#second ones from a few days ago when the sunrise was really lovely with the snow outside
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heartmix · 3 days ago
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Never Be - Jack Hughes
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Pairing: Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1.4K+ (with lyrics)
Warning: theres angst, pre-devils Jack
A/N: inspired by never be by 5sos. this is not how i wanted to end the fic but it just went in that direction
Masterlist \ Hockey Masterlist
We'll never be as young as we are now It's time to leave this old black and white town
"Let's leave."
"What?" Lifting your head to look at him beside you on the couch to ensure you heard him right. Both of you were in the Hughes family basement enjoying a film you knew he wasn't really paying attention to. Everyone else was asleep upstairs, ditching the both of you two movies ago.  
"Let's leave, go somewhere. No turning back." He repeated giving you a serious expression. Jack was full of surprises and you've learned to love that about him but the look in his eyes tonight was different. There was no pinpointing what emotion he was feeling but you knew he needed this, whatever this was. 
"What's gotten into that brain of yours Hughes?"
"This is the last time we get to be young and dumb. By next week, we'll be both adults off to do our own thing. Just one last time being a teenager with you."
"Well, what do you wanna do? Where do you wanna go?"
"Follow me." He said holding out his hand. Glady taking it you let him pull you off the couch and straight to his car. 
Jack wasn't exactly sure where he was driving to; he didn't have a destination in mind. He just wanted to leave the town with you and soak in the few moments you had left together before his world changed. By this time next week, he would already be practicing at the devil's rink and you would be moving into your new college dorm. As much as he didn't want to think about it, he wouldn't get the chance to talk to you every day. From the stories Quinn has told he would be lucky to catch you when you both are free or when in the same time zone when he's away for games. The Hughes brothers, as close as they are were lucky to catch a back-to-back conversation when the season started. 
I've seen myself here in your eyes I stay awake 'til the sunrise I wanna hold you hold you all night I wanna tell you that you're all mine
The farthest place Jack could think of going was the lookout where the both of you were frequent visitors. He remembered the first time he took you here. It was just a few years ago when he was learning how to drive and accidentally took the wrong turn. Between the nervousness from driving and you teasing him every second of being so nervous, he ended up on the lookout. A happy accident that became both of your spots.
"This might be your last view of our spot for a while." He looked over seeing you take in the sight yourself. 
"Same goes for you, you had to move away for college."
"You had to move away for hockey." teasing back, Jack couldn't help the hint of a smirk pulling from his lips. 
A moment of silence passed through. The only sound was from nature surrounding you both. There was no telling what time it was, time seemed to not exist but at the same time moving faster than he would like. If he could take this moment with you in his arms watching the slowness of the town, he would hang it on every wall so it would make it feel like it never ended. 
"What's going on with you Jacky?"
"I'm just taking this in before leaving." He didn't want to meet her eyes, he was holding on by a thread, and with one more push, he was going to spill his guts. 
"I thought we came to terms with this changing?"
"We did. I came to terms with leaving for New Jersey, not leaving you." There it was. The thing he was trying to hold back and not tell you. He didn't want to guilt trip you and make you feel bad. This occurrence was part of growing up, they weren't the first people to experience this change. 
"Jack.." 
"You are the only constant I had in my life these few years, I don't remember a time we've been apart for a long period of time."
"We'll see each other at Christmas right? that's just a few months away." He knew what you were trying to do and although you giving him hope usually cheered him up, it didn't work this time. 
"Might as well be a whole lifetime."
"You're not making this any easier for me." looking at you he saw tears welling up in your eyes. That wasn't what he wanted to do and he wished he could take back what he just said. 
"I thought you accepted it already." 
"I accepted it until tonight. I've been trying so hard to accept it and it took me nights of crying to be okay and here you are not moving on and it's breaking down my walls." at this point the tears couldn't stop and just kept following. he's never seen you like this, breaking down about the two of you being apart. You were always the strong and level head one out of the two, so seeing this right now he wished more than anything he could be in control of time. Reversing it so he never poured his heart out or freezing it so the both of you could stay like this forever. 
"Why didn't you tell me you've been crying?" The crack in his voice snapped something in you.
"Because you're going to the freakin NHL. I was with you on draft day and saw all the excitement from everyone. How selfish would I be if I told you I was sad about you moving away from me."
"Now you know how feel when I read your acceptance letter to a school on the other coast."
A beat of silence passed before either of them said anything. This was the first time both of you confessed how you were really feeling. Jack knew you were feeling upset about the change just like him, but hearing you confess how it was affecting you tugged at his heart even more. 
"Can you promise me one thing?" Her ask almost came out as a whisper, like she wasn't sure if she wanted to say it.
"Anything you want."
"When you make it big, and you get new friends, a new life in Jersey, a girlfriend, and start a family, promise that you'll never forget me. I'll be good with one call a year or a text for my birthday. I don't think I could take being out of your life for good." The confession made him mad. What was she even talking about? Did she really think that she could be replaced so easily, after being connected by the hips since grade school? 
"Baby, what are you saying? I'm never ever going to forget you. You are my person and the only constant I want in my life. If you are down the road from me or on a different coast, you'll always be mine. Don't think for one second I'll want to find someone else. I want you and I'm happy with any way I'll get that."
"Jack you're not saying what I think you're saying." He was. He didn't want to confess it this way but hearing all the nonsense she was talking about, he needed to end those thoughts right now. 
"I am. I just haven't had the courage to tell you until now."
"I need to ask you for one more thing." The tone in her voice made him scared. Of course, she wouldn't feel the same way. 
With the last bit of dignity he had left he still wondered what she wanted to say, "What is it?"
"I need you to tell me this when we aren't about to move away from each other. It can't be at Christmas or off seasons also. I need you to tell me this when we have adulthood somewhat figured out. If you still feel the same way, tell me then." Although it wasn't what he wanted to hear, he was glad she felt the same way. Of course, she wanted to be logical while in the heat of emotion. 
"I've felt like this for years, if I have to wait a bit longer I will." A smile cracked through. He wasn't kidding. He's waited years since they first entered high school, what difference does it make if he has to wait for her to finish college? 
"We'll see."
"Can we pretend for the last few hours we have tonight? I wanted to remember this."
"You got until sunrise Jacky." With a content smile, he pulled you into his side, entangling your fingers together and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. If he had to wait a few years so be it. 
We'll never be as young as we are now As young as we are now
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ciearcab · 1 year ago
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misc irl studies for fun
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spiderfunkz · 11 months ago
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✦ RING, RING, RING!
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"i think i can really fall in love with him."
word count : 0,9k
warnings : fluff, fem!reader, gwen is mentioned to be readers best friend, harry is mentioned as well, cutesy first dates, peter being just so madly in love & so are you. not proofread!
a/n : inspired by that one scene from 'before sunrise' where celine and jesse pretend to call their friends and tell them about each other :)) also i know i'm late to valentines but it's still february sooooo
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if you told yourself a few days ago that you'd be spending valentines day with peter parker, you would laugh at the thought of it.
but right now you couldn't laugh at anything but peter's stupidly unfunny jokes and his cheesy, dry, pickup lines.
you couldn't imagine what valentines would be like with peter parker, but you don't have to. you're experiencing it right now.
he had asked you in a way you've only seen in rom-coms from the 90s. he knocked on your door with a ridiculously large bouquet of flowers, a heart shaped box full of chocolate, and a nervous nerdy smile.
and you accepted it obviously. peter's nice. really nice. out of all the boys in your class, he's a gentleman compared to them.
he's got those big brown doe eyes that make you blush if you make eye contact. that weirdly fluffy hair, that makes you wonder what his hair care routine is like sometimes. the sweetest smile you could ever imagine. and a heart bigger than a size of a lake.
and my gosh, you love him.
he made a reservation at this restaurant. one that you've passed by many times but never seem to stop by. you've always thought it was too fancy for a normal hangout with friends or family, it was always crowded with couples too. it always had a jazz band playing, roses on each table, and you could smell the scent of love from outside.
it was everything you've ever dreamed of. you didn't want it to end but unfortunately, the day got darker and the sun began to set.
"i really enjoyed today, peter." you smile.
"yeah of course. i really enjoyed today too." he replied, there was still a splotch of spaghetti sauce near his mouth.
"unfortunate that the hours went by so quickly, i think i have to go home soon." you pout, peter was still smiling, that spaghetti splotch is not going anywhere.
"or maybe we could still talk, for a bit." he paused for a second before making a hand gesture resembling a phone.
"ring, ring, ring!" he mimicked. you furrow your brows.
"pick it up." he stays smiley.
"okay, beep." you laugh, following his gestures.
peter mouths a 'thank you' before continuing, "oh yeah uh, harry? harry are you there?" he asks.
you knew harry, he's peter's closest friend. they're like two peas in a pod and you could never separate them, not even when harry moved away for years.
you join in his little joke. "uh yeah dude, this is harry. dude." you try to mimic his voice.
"yeah, hey harry! do you remember that girl i was gonna ask out for valentines? the really pretty girl from bio class?" his face became pink.
"oh yeah! the really pretty girl. i know her."
"yeah so, she's with me right now and i am just so happy."
"really? how happy?"
"extremely. she's so fun to talk to. she's so incredibly wonderful and i cannot put it into words how beautiful she is. really harry, you were right. she's an angel."
you smile. "really what else? how did the date go?" your voice rasps, clearly you couldn't really perfect the accent harry has. but peter seemed to like it.
"amazing. the food was great, this restaurant is good, i uh- got the reservation in time so everything has been going perfectly.
she's such a ray of sunshine. i can't stop stealing a glance every time, harry. i dunno what's about it, she's just so- perfect."
peter continues. he's doing it on purpose. well, not really, he was going to call harry and say all of those things. but he thinks it's better to tell you face to face. besides, he loves seeing you smile.
you try your best to blurt out a reply without stuttering. "that's um, that's amazing, dude. i bet she feels the same way about you." you could feel the butterflies in your stomach.
"you really think so?" peter tilts his head.
"i'm sure."
"well, thanks harry. i'll see you later, bye bye." he hangs up, mimicking a beep on the table.
you laugh.
"okay now it's your turn."
"my turn? oh, okay." you gesture your hand.
"dring, dring, dring!" you say, "ugh she's probably studying right now." you explain.
peter picks up, in a voice that will haunt you for years. "hey, girl! what is up!" peter laughs.
it took every cell in your body to not burst out laughing in front of everyone in that restaurant. "hi, gwen. is uh- is your voice okay?" you ask.
"better than ever!" — "oh, okay." you hold your laughter. "um, you know peter? peter parker from biology. the one with fluffy hair and pretty eyes?"
peter smiles, he blushes from his nose.
"yeah so, i'm on a date with him right now. and it feels like a dream. he's prettier up close. he styled his hair, yeah, it's pretty. and he's got spaghetti sauce smeared near his lips." you smile.
peter immediately fixes the splotch, finally.
"he's kind of tall. and he's kinda nerdy too. just my type." you cover your smile, "i like to feel his eyes on me when i look away." you continued.
peter smiles, "what a nice guy."
"he really is. as the date goes on i start to like him even more. i feel like i can really open up to him."
"really?"
"mhm. he got me flowers and some chocolate too. he's funny too, he's got a voice i can listen to for hours. he's like a shot of espresso, you know?"
peter couldn't hide his blush anymore. "a shot of espresso?"
"he makes me feel energized in a way, and he also makes my heart beat really fast." you laugh, "i think i can really fall in love with him."
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shu-of-the-wind · 12 days ago
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happy holidays, my lovely secret santa @flyfreeskylark! ‘tis i, your holiday flower fairy @shu-of-the-wind, with the trouble with holiday mead (soon to be now coposted to ao3). your prompts included everybody lives/nobody dies, mission fic, undercover fic, first kiss, first time, kissing for the mission, and smut is great but not necessary. unfortunately the smut fairy did not visit me this year but i hope the rest is up to snuff!
slight cw for honeytraps (not fulfilled/no sex) and pushy men in bars.
---
She hates Nevarro.
Some childish, long-lost part of her might say it’s because her first memories are from a snowy prison world, and being stuck on a planet loaded with lava flows is roasting her alive. Some other parts of her, bits that sound like Saw, like Magva, say it’s because it’s a logistical nightmare. Nevarro is all open space when it’s not flowing lava, an incomprehensible smear of ash and ancient, cracking magma rivers. There’s nowhere to hide on Nevarro, no cover to take, no place to go that isn’t baked grey with soot that lingers in every footstep.
Jyn wipes out another glass, and sets it on the counter. They picked this place for its heavy bounty hunter population—any Imp-controlled planet is bound to be lousy with them, but Nevarro City’s famed for it, all over the Outer Rim—but she hadn’t expected it to be this intense. If she lets herself get nostalgic, tips her head and squints, it almost reminds her of days with the Partisans. Insurgents and criminal syndicates aren’t all that different in their mechanics, if you don’t look too hard.
“You don’t get paid to stare,” says Drek, and whacks her on the back of the shoulder with the end of his filthy towel. Jyn almost seizes the towel and snaps it back in his face, but she’s not Jyn, not right now. She’s Giba, and she needs to keep her shit together. “Deal with the ‘troopers before any of this lot.”
“Yessir.” She’s scraped the Coruscant out of her voice with a razor, and approximated something like Cassian’s accent in its place, though she’s not entirely sure she’s getting the vowels right. In the corner, a Houk smashes his glass into the floor and howls with laughter, and the ‘troopers in front of her don’t even flinch. Something rich and smug swells in her chest. Knew it. They’re so used to this place they don’t even think to check scan-docs anymore. “Right away.”
Drek scoffs, and hauls his eight-armed self away back to the other end of the bar. Jyn lifts her chin to a handful of new bounty hunters that have just come in—“Be right with you, lovelies”—and slips down between the other bartenders, all of them considerably less human-looking, to the ‘troopers. 
“Sirs,” she says, and curls her forefinger and thumb into her apron pocket. “What can I get for you?”
One of the ‘troopers—sergeant by his colors, helmet off completely against regs in a non-controlled zone, birth-born human and not a clone by the color of his eyes—gives her a toe-to-top look that lingers around her hips and shoulders. “Nevarro sunrise,” he says, after a minute, and Jyn slips on an old mask, a smile from six years and seventeen planets ago, tapping the order into the touchscreen on her side of the bar counter. “Alky, what do you want?”
“You got any ale?” says the second ‘trooper,  definitely not XO material, birth-born with hair way too long to meet Core regs. Jyn puts a hand on her hip, cocks her head, lets the smile settle in on her face.
“Nothing I would serve you. Though—” She considers, tapping her finger to her hip, and a few stools away, Cassian, who’s been nursing a drink of his own for the last five hours playing the jealous ex, pushes his glass back. “I think I could probably wrangle you a Riosan mead out of the back if you really want something different.”
The second ‘trooper, the one with long hair, leans a little across the counter. “Could you now?”
There’s a scoff from the side. Jyn ignores it, props her elbows on the counter to lean in a little herself. She isn’t Jyn, not right now. She’s Giba, and Giba is a flirt. “Depends on if you’re gonna be nice.”
He has teeth that have been surgically sharpened, like a predator’s. Sharptooth says, “I can be nice if you’d like.”
She bops a finger to the point of his chin, and says, “I’ll go get you those drinks, then.”
“Giba—”
“I’m busy,” she says to Cassian, and aims directly for the back room behind the bar, dragging bottles out of the wall, popping the little bottle of sedative out of her pocket to conceal in her hand. Her fingers are trembling. She draws in air, sends it out in a slow wave, and after a beat, the shaking isn’t visible, for all she can feel the reverberating adrenalin rattling around inside her ribs.
She hates honeytraps. She hates them with every fiber of her being, but the thing with stormtroopers is that there just aren’t many ‘troopers out there that will openly let themselves be seduced by non-female bartenders, and that means she has to put on masks that she hates and play roles that have her nails gouging into the meat of her palms. She has to flirt and play pretend and not do what she wants to do, which is find a baton and cave in their skulls with the end of it, to hell with the bar and the mission and the information they need. She has to do all of that, and she has to do it with Cassian watching, impassive, and she doesn’t know if the thing shredding itself in her chest is her heart or her guts or her nerve or all three.
Over the comm that’s tucked into her ear, Cassian makes a huffy little noise, and says, “Typical,” just loud enough for the ‘troopers to overhear. There’s a hum of sound, and then: “Giba’s predictable, is all.”
Focus. Come on. “Predictable, huh.” She tucks the bottle of mead under her arm. “Dial it up a little? One of them has to take the bait or the last week getting all this ash in our clothes will have been completely pointless.”
There’s a beat of silence, the echo of audio that she can hear fuzzily through the walls of the back room, before he clears his throat in an assent. “Nothing, just that she runs after anything in a uniform.”
A crackle of static, and then she catches a little bit from one of the ‘troopers, the sergeant this time. “—that make you?”
She can picture it perfectly, Cassian spreading his hands in a what can you do gesture understood all over the galaxy. “Sanitation worker.”
The guffaw of the ‘troopers makes her teeth itch. “Sanitation? You’ve got to be joking, this hellhole has a sanitation crew? I thought everyone threw their shit into the lava.”
“Most people can’t get close enough to the flows to try,” says Cassian, and she thinks he might be injecting a little of Luke Skywalker’s enthusiasm into it, because she’s never heard Cassian this excited to talk about magma. “Most civilians don’t have the proper shielding equipment to be able to—”
“No wonder she dumped you,” says Sharptooth.
“Careful she doesn’t bite anything off when she takes you home,” says Cassian. “Though looks like you like that sort of thing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
That’s her cue. Jyn slips out of the back room again, the Riosan mead in one hand, three glasses in the other, pausing just long enough for the ‘troopers to see her face flicker with annoyance. “Riff, I told you—”
It’s in moments like these where she knows how good of a weapon she snatched out of Draven’s arsenal a year ago, when he went AWOL with her aiming for Scarif. Cassian puts a hand to his chest, all wounded lover, eyes wide and wet, lips parted. Even with the limp and the slight hitch to his shoulders from his sore back, he’s every part of him Riff the jilted sanitation worker. She knows it’s an act, but still; the shredded, blistering pile in her insides gives a horrible little wrench of pain. “Giba, can we just—” 
“She doesn’t want to talk to you, sanitation,” says Sharptooth. The sergeant has completely tuned out, nursing the Nevarro sunrise someone must have brought him while she was hiding in the back. “You need me to get him out of here, sweetheart?”
“Oh, would you?” Jyn turns to Sharptooth. “Just—don’t break him, there’s—”
“I’m going, I’m going.” Cassian skitters out of reach of Sharptooth, knocking over his drink in the process. Sharptooth bolts out of his stool so he doesn’t get caught with the splatter, knocks into the sergeant, a blaster goes off—she thinks that might have been the Houk in the back—and Jyn seizes the sergeant’s Nevarro sunrise off the counter in just such a way that when she tips her hand, the sedative dribbles into his drink without anyone the wiser.
“I’m so sorry,” Jyn says, and seizes the nearest towel. “Get out of here, Riff—”
“I’m going, I’m going—” Cassian backs up. “Um—my tab—”
“Get out of here!”
“Gone,” says Cassian, and vanishes into the crowd of bounty hunters while Jyn sets the Nevarro sunrise back onto the counter in front of the sergeant.
While she wipes up the counter, the sergeant drains half of it in one drag.  
“I’m so sorry,” she says again, and lets some of the frustration show. “He just—he’s a nuisance, I wish I’d never gone out with him—”
“You deserve so much more than a sanitation worker, lovely,” says Sharptooth, and reaches out to stroke the backs of his gauntleted fingers down her cheek and throat. Jyn stays very still, and lets him, for all that it makes her heart kick up to dangerous speeds. ‘trooper fingers near her throat have never meant anything other than danger danger danger. She’s hardwired. She can’t not have her heart race. “You need somebody to show you a good time.”
“Oh?” She tosses the rag aside, and leans an elbow onto the counter. “Is that what you’re showing me?”
There’s an odd little sound over the comms. She thinks Cassian might have bit his tongue.
“Depends.” Sharptooth smiles again, his fangs too-white in the dim light of the bar. “What’s a good time look like for you?”
The sergeant makes a disgusted noise, and goes back to nursing his drink.
It takes a good ninety minutes for the sergeant to go unconscious. It’s not meant to be a fast-acting sedative; fast-acting ones draw attention that they don’t want, not on an imperial stronghold like this one. On top of that, every single person in here is a bounty hunter or worse; she doesn’t need anyone recognizing the symptoms of a knock-out vial. So she waits, circling back to top up the mead and Nevarro sunrises, until the sergeant’s head begins to dip lower and lower, his eyelids drooping. After an hour, he’s practically laying his entire body against the bartop; another thirty minutes after that, and he’s snoring, and Sharptooth huffs. “Shit, I didn’t realize those things were that strong.”
“Every drink is strong for the ‘troopers that keep us safe,” she says, smiling at him. “And sometimes humanoids have a stronger reaction to the alcohols we have in our Nevarro sunrises.”
“No shit,” says Sharptooth.
“If you like,” says Jyn, “I could just put him in the back to sleep it off. We got a room for guests we like, so they’re not out on the streets past curfew.”
He sucks his teeth, and considers. “Where’s that leave you?”
“Off shift,” she says, smiling and pretending she hasn’t gnawed her cheek bloody. “So…we could keep spending time together, if you wanted.”
Sharptooth’s pupils flare, and Jyn almost breaks his nose. She curls a hand tight around the glass she’s cleaning out, and hopes she doesn’t crack it. “Where’s this back room?”
“Just through there.” She points towards a filmy, beaded curtain that’s the only thing that separates Drek’s bar from the brothel just upstairs. “If you go and let them know that Drek says the sergeant needs a place to sleep things off, they’ll come collect him. And I can meet you outside?”
Sharptooth leans across the counter, just close enough that his breath puffs across her face. She’s proud to say her smile doesn’t wobble, but her face hurts from keeping it in place. “Sounds like a plan, gorgeous.”
Jyn keeps the smile in place until Sharptooth’s gone through the filmy curtain. Once it’s rattled back into place, she spits on the floor, and takes off her apron. “Hey, Drek?”
Drek, down the bar, doesn’t look at her. “What?”
“I quit,” she says, and slips out from behind the bar to grab her coat.
She waits in the alley they decided on a week ago, when she and Cassian first touched down on Nevarro with the goal of finding a way into the ‘trooper garrison being set up in Nevarro City. It’s mangy, a dumpster overflowing with garbage and smeared paint on the walls, but Jyn drapes her jacket—not for warmth, but to protect her arms from any potential burns from passing magma flows—over her shoulders and leans against the wall of the bar, just inside the lip of the alley.
“Breathe,” says Cassian, soft into her ear. If everything’s gone according to plan, he’s been stuck crouched down behind the dumpster for the last hour and a half, listening to her outrageous flirting and waiting for her to come out with one or both of the targets. Their best option is an XO, and they have that in the sergeant, but now it’s a matter of dealing with Sharptooth in a way that doesn’t set alarm bells ringing for the garrison. In the brothel, Chirrut—who somehow in the last week has made fantastic friends with everyone working upstairs—will be cloning every scan-doc and identifying code that the sergeant has, and putting them back exactly where he found them. In a few hours, the sergeant will wake up in bed with a sex worker they’ve hired just for this purpose, and never tell anyone about the time he got drunk at Drek’s and propositioned an alien. You don’t bed aliens and keep your job as a stormtrooper, even on the Outer Rim. “Almost through.”
Jyn clears her throat—they’ve long-since decided that means yes, when one of them can’t speak; a sneeze means no—and curls her hands in and out of fists. Her fingernails, stubby as they are, have left bruises on the flesh of her palms. “Shit.”
“Breathe,” says Cassian again, and it reverberates into her body the way drumbeats do, echoing and vibrating against her ribs. Breathe. They’ve done this, or something like this, a thousand times, and will do it a thousand times more. On and on until we win or the chances are spent. She takes a deep breath, and then another, and so when Sharptooth comes out of the bar, she’s smiling again with teeth she’s sucked clean of blood.
“Hey, stranger.”
It’s easy, in the end. She takes three steps back; Sharptooth follows her into the alley, just past the dumpster; and in an instant Cassian’s lunged. The stun gun has long prongs, modified for dents and gaps in ‘trooper armor, and Cassian’s got a sniper’s aim; Sharptooth doesn’t even seem to realize what hit him before he’s on the floor, eyes rolling back into his head. This time, the sedative they put down his throat is fast-acting. He’ll be snoring in the alley for the rest of the night.
They dump him behind the dumpster, trash with trash. Jyn allows herself exactly one retaliatory kick in Sharptooth’s ribs. “Bastard.”
Cassian’s smile is the hooked edge of a crescent moon. “Quick, before someone sees—”
They snag the scan-docs—along with his credit chit, the plate armor, his blaster—a mugging; make them think it’s a mugging and no one will wonder about everything that’s missing—and Jyn’s just stowed what looks like a fairly pricy bit of flashy jewelry that’s also not standard Core World regs when there’s a scuffing at the head of the alley. It doesn’t matter who it is. They can’t be seen standing over an unconscious ‘trooper, even one like Sharptooth.
It's not a thought, or a question. It’s training and instinct, more than anything else. Jyn seizes Cassian by the wrist, and tugs him close to her, stepping back in the same moment so she’s pressed against the dumpster, so there’s a clang of body on body on metal, and whoever is at the head of the alley will see limbs and clothes and two figures hauled in close together in the dark. It’s only after she’s done it that she realizes her mistake; that in pulling him forward and in so fast she might have jostled his back; that now it’s Cassian drawn close into her, breath puffing against her face, the warmth of him too much on this stupid magma ball of a planet, smelling of skin and sharp smoke and capsaicin.
“Stay still,” he says, almost inaudible.
Jyn can’t speak. She looks up at him, at the line of his jaw, and swallows. Cassian must notice, because his eyes shift from the head of the alley down to her face. There’s no lighting in the alley, but one of the signs for the bar casts a dim red glow that reflects in his eyes. She can’t make out his expression. His face is spy-quiet.
“Hello?”
It’s Drek. Cassian doesn’t look away from her. He shifts, ever so slightly, and there’s a question on his mouth.
Jyn goes up on her toes, and kisses him.
It’s not an actual kiss. She tells herself this even as it happens, even as warmth blooms in her throat, down her limbs, too much in the wake of the magma flow beside Nevarro City, a thrum of something she can’t identify. It’s a mask. Another mask, like they’ve both been wearing all night. Cassian draws in air through his nose, and then tangles a hand in the hair at the back of her head, pulling her closer into him, and the second kiss isn’t a kiss either. There’s a star going supernova in her chest. Jyn pushes herself higher on her toes, hooks an arm around his neck, kisses him open-mouthed and messy, because it’s an alley, but it’s also not a kiss, but it’s Cassian, and there’s something tight in her throat that might be close to tears when he cups his other hand so gentle against the nape of her neck, petting against the thrum of her pulse with his blistered thumb.
“Horny idiots,” Drek mutters, and there’s a bang as he tosses something into the dumpster. Cassian doesn’t jerk away. If anything, he pulls her closer into him, a third kiss, and then a fourth, and Jyn can’t hear Drek walking away. Her heart is racing in her ears.
It’s only after a door has closed that Cassian pulls back, only enough to wet his lips, searching her face.
“He’s gone.”
Jyn grips the fabric of his shirt for a long moment. Then, carefully, she unclenches, one finger after the other, letting him go.
“Good,” she says, and looks away. “Let’s get the hell off this mudball.”
She seizes the bag, and bolts down the alley, her mouth tattooed with something she can’t take back.
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alessiathepirate · 2 years ago
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Resident Evil 4
CIGARETTES IN THE MORNING: Luis Serra x fem!reader
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Summary: Just some soft morning moments with Luis Serra - including some cigarettes -, because we all need some soft Luis Serra moments in our lives.
Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistakes I made while I wrote this short story.
As I wrote before, my Spanish isn't the best so I'm sorry if I made any mistakes in the Spanish words I used. With that I'd like to say a special thank you to @angi-writes-filth for the kind words and the reassurance that my Spanish isn't as bad as I thought it was :)
Also I'd like to say thank you for all the positive feedback and responses I've got. I really appreciate it :)
Luis Serra makes me go weak these days, so have some soft moments with him as proof to that.
Warnings: smoking
•••
The room was painted in a shade of orange mixed with some gold and red as the sunrise found its way inside the apartment. Waking up to that sight was truly breathtaking and after all the hard, physically demanding work she had to do, it gave her a peace of mind. Eyes only slightly open, looking at her own hands where all the colours the sunrise brought were mixed together, she finally felt at ease.
Her eyes slowly, but surely examined her environment, this time being sure that it's a safe place. It's not some shack in Spain, it's not some big hallway in a castle - it's her home. It's her home where she isn't lonely anymore.
She turned around in the bed, kicking the duvet back to its place when it got tangled with her legs. She was about to reach for a bare chest or the soft, dark brown locks of hair, when she realized that her lover's side of the bed was empty. She let out a long breath in annoyance - no cuddling this time.
Sitting up and pulling the duvet off of her body, she looked around the room, this time being more observant, checking the side what she didn't examine a few seconds ago. There he was, at an open window with his back to her, elbows resting on the windowsill. He was smoking, she was sure of it, because she could see some small clouds of smoke running up in the air, even if his body was hiding the cigarette in his hand.
She laid back down, hugging a pillow to her chest, while she kept her gaze on him. She had to admit that Luis Serra was attractive even in the mornings - more than attractive, beautiful; damn the people who say that word can't be used for men.
She wouldn't use that word for anyone who wasn't special, but Luis truly deserved that compliment. His physique, his dark brown hair - what she liked to play with at night - and those eyes most of the time shining from something flirty yet clever, made him irresistible. And she didn't even think about the way he talks or acts yet.
She got out of bed as quietly as she could and walked towards him slowly, not wanting to disturb him and also wanting to surprise him with a hug. When she was right behind him, she gently put one arm around his torso, while she touched the scar on his back with the other.
Luis seemed surprised, making her chest swell with pride. He didn't neccessary jump, but his shoulders became tense and his hands started to shake slightly, almost dropping the lighter he was even now playing with. She loved the trick he could do with it - it was a Luis-thing, and the fact that he could make that seem attractive was also a Luis-thing.
"You got a smoke?" she asked teasingly, making him giggle. God, she loved to hear him laugh.
"Good morning, cariño." was the first thing he said as he put the lighter down and tenderly took the hand she was keeping on his abdome to press a gentle kiss on it.
"Good morning to you too."
She drew an invisible circle around his scar with her thumb, then drew through the whole, rough line where once the deep wound was. She pressed a kiss to his right shoulder as an I love you. When she felt his grip on her hand tighten, she knew the message got through.
"You didn't stay to cuddle." she said, doing her best to sound angry, but in reality both of them knew she wasn't upset about it.
"I'm sorry, querida. I didn't think you'd wake up so early." he kissed her palm this time as a sorry. "But I'm sure we can still make some time for it."
Next thing she knew she was standing in front of him, with her back to him, while one of his arm was around her torso. He also did his best to keep the cigarette far away from her face and hair, not wanting to burn her.
"Yeah, this is much better."
Luis threw the cigarette into an ashtray, now being able to fully concentrate on his lover. He put his head on her shoulder, while his free hand was playing with her hair.
"Your bedhead is really cute, cariño."
She felt her cheeks become slightly pinker at the compliment. "Thank you."
"You know, for someone who went to Spain to find the missing señorita, you can get pretty shy sometimes, querida."
There was no way she could hide her face from him, so she did her best to ignore the feeling that her cheeks are red. "Yeah, I bet you're really happy that this shy señorita was there to find your flirting attractive."
"Of course I am."
"Of course you are. You should be." she said teasingly.
They were standing there for a while as the first few people started to appear on the streets, most likely going to work to start the day early. For the first time since forever she wasn't jealous of them for having a normal life. No, this time she was happy that she can stay in with someone she loves, with someone who loves her.
After a while they changed the position as Luis started to smoke again.
"Do you want to go back to bed, querida?"
"We can if you want to. But only after a coffee." she answered as she looked him in the eye, liking the way his eyes lit up when he looked at her.
"Of course, I can make you one."
"And you called Leon Prince Charming, when you offer to help a señorita?" she teased, while she took his cigarette to take a puff from it.
"I only offer to help one certain señorita and you know it." her grip on the cigarette almost failed her at the compliment. Luckily Luis took it from her in time.
She didn't answer, not knowing what to say to that. Teasing or joking with Luis was always a loosing game. There was no way she could say anything to him to make him flustered or shy - even if only for a second. Or even if she succeeded in it, he'd always have a clever, either cute or flirty comeback what always made her blush.
His second cigarette landed in the ashtray as well after he kissed her. He tasted like the thing he was smoking, not like it bothered her. It was also a Luis-thing, something what couldn't just disappear without leaving an empty space behind.
"Let's go and make that coffee."
This time she kissed him - as a thank you.
The days with Luis Serra definitely started off happily.
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justrainandcoffee · 9 months ago
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For a better future (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc)
He could never choose death over her.
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Alfie Solomons x Rose Coldwell (ofc) Masterlist
Summary: Alfie wakes up after Tommy shot him. After the hell he went through. After the hell she went through. It's a warm morning but he doesn't open his eyes yet. Alfie prefers to enjoy the sounds and smells around him first. He's back to life for her. He promised her a future together and he's now ready to give her, the best future of all. Starting with the fact that he's alive.
Warnings: None.
Words: 1.8k || continuation of this fic.
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1926.
When Alfie was born 38 years ago, Rose was already there. She was 87 days old. She was little baby wrapped in a white blanket in her mother's arms.
Alfie decided to born around 3am when everyone was sleeping and his mother's screams woke up the neighbours who run to help her. One hour later he was already part of this world. Alfie was a big healthy baby.
Neither of them were concious at all of what happened but the morning, while his mother was resting trying to recover from his birth and Rose's mother was there to clean Mrs. Solomons' sheets and towels, both babies were resting in the same crib. That day, his first morning on Earth, Rose was already there.
And 38 years later, she is still there.
He can smell the breeze. Mix of rain and sea. Mix of salt and sun.
Alfie is back. A bullet sent him to hell but the devil sent him back to Earth. He's back because while he was still in a limbo some words reached his ears.
"Don't leave me."
And there is no man on Earth, no supernatural entity who can stop him from helping his wife.
"Don't leave me."
That wasn't a request, it was her begging for him. It was her crying over his chest, imploring him not to die.
He could feel her. He could feel her tears and hear her sobs. Her soft hands touching his face, whispering lovely words. He could feel her sadness. But he couldn't do anything about it. He was less than a man. He was more dead than alive. And his wife was dying with him.
Only when he couldn't bear with it anymore, Alfie's brain could make his body respond to her words. Although it was just his hand squeezing hers.
How easy it could have been if he had allow death to embrace him. Sweet death, helping him to forget all his physical pain. But how sad at the same time.
Alfie doesn't dare to open his eyes. Not yet. He breathes deeply and the let the breeze fill his nostrils.
He knows one of his eyes is covered in bandages. Alfie fears that he won't be able to see with it anymore, but it really doesn't matter. His cheek hurts like hell. He feels like it's burning and the fire is inside his face.
Far away in the distance he can hear the seagulls, probably they're eating near the seashore. Fucking seagulls. He can hear voices on the other side of where he is. Probably nurses or maids. Along with them, there's a dog barking and he knows that's Cyril. He could recognise his barking anywhere. Alfie smiles for the first time.
And yet his eyes are still closed.
He hears the door open and he pretends to be sleeping. He doesn't want to speak yet. After few seconds, the door closes again.
Alfie remembers the incidents that lead him to where he was now. The sunny day, the beach, the sea in front of him and Thomas Shelby shooting him. It was his own fault, Alfie knows that and he paid for it. What he never wanted was to her suffer because of him.
There's a new voice now. Not behind the door but next to him. A very familiar voice.
"No! No! Don't! Alfie! Alfie!"
That's when he opens his eyes. It's still the sunrise. He can see the sky through the open window. It's a mix of orange, yellow, pink and blue and some white clouds. It's a beautiful view. But he barely watches it. His sight is fixed on her.
She's curled up, embracing herself and her body is shaking, whispering his name in her sleep. She's crying too.
"Alfie, please… don't die."
"Shhh… it's over. Rosie, it's over," his hand is stroking her head. "Rosie, wake up, luv."
First, she calms herself. She's still sleeping but she's not having nightmares. Alfie keeps stroking her head.
He could never choose death over her.
Her hair is a mess and her dress is crumpled. Signs that she never left his side. Of course not. The most loyal person he knows. And she's his wife.
Alfie touches her face. His fingers tracing a path across her forehead and nose. And then her cheeks and jawline. Why die and private himself of having her a lot of more years? His fingertip touch the tip of her nose. Alfie smiles looking at her.
If he could only describe in one world what that she means to him…
When Alfie woke up from his first nap ever, 38 years ago, Rose was still sleeping and the baby he was had his eyes on her. He was lying on his back with his little head facing her. Impossible to know what he thought, if he thought at all, but the baby looked at her. And for a few and quiet minutes, after she woke up as well, they looked at each other. That was the first time they saw each other.
Suddenly, she opens her eyes and stares at him. Confused. Is it a dream? Is her mind playing with her?
"Rosie," he says.
She is still cautious. Slowly, her hand touches his healthy cheek and he puts a hand over hers.
"Oh my god… Alfie."
It's not a dream.
He sits on bed and carefully she sits on him hiding her face on his neck. His arms are around her, like preventing her to go anywhere. Alfie is hugging her tightly and her hands are clutching his pajamas shirt.
"I'm sorry," she says. Her face is still against him. "I'm sorry, Al."
"Sorry for what, sweetheart?"
"For being mad at you. I-I thought I was going to lose you. I thought you're going to die and I could never have had the chance to apologize. Never… Al-"
"It's okay, Rosie. Not your fault, luv, it wasn't your fault. And you were right, as always. Except that ya believed I was going to die. Fuckin hell, luv, dying it's not in my immediate agenda. Ya know, that. Leaving 'ere alone… no. Never."
Alfie knows what she's talking about. Their biggest argument ever. When Rose knew about his pact with Luca Changretta they argued strongly and lead them to not talk to each other for days. In fact, when Tommy shot him, they weren't in peace. So, he understands her pain. Too much love between them and it could have ended with one of them dead and without the chance of saying sorry.
"My love for you is stronger than a bullet, sweetheart."
"I'm sorry," she repeated.
"I'm sorry, too, Rosie. Never again, right, pet? I promise it won't happen again, luv," he says and she nods.
Alfie closes his eyes again but this time is to kiss her. The muscles in his face hurt but he doesn't care. If that the price to pay for kissing his wife after his almost death, then let it be. Her hands are on his shoulders and Alfie can feel her fingers pressing on him. He also feels her tears wetting his own face.
"Rosie…" he says pulling apart from her, to look at the woman in her eyes.
"I was there, Al. I saw you fall over the sand. I saw the fucking bastard standing up… fuck! I always hated him! I saw your almost lifeless body. You were cold… And the bang. I hear the bang in my dreams. Every fucking night. In my nightmares I see you falling, your blood in my hands. Sometimes you die there. If… if you- if you have died, I was ready to kill him. And you know that."
"Yeah, I know that..."
He knows she's not lying. Those aren't just empty words. Alfie knows that it's true because no one knows Rose the same way he knows her. Because no one else except them know about the kind of love they have for each other. Every person in his path knows what are the consequences of saying something about his wife. But few know that it's the same with her. Nor Polly Gray, nor Arthur Shelby, nor his fucking cousin, nor Lizzie… no one could be able to stop Rose to put a bullet in Thomas Shelby's brain. He, Alfie, taught her how to shot. Only an idiot could underestimate his wife.
"…But you don't have to now. Because I'm back. I reborn. I can't protect you from your nightmares, luv, but I can do my best to help you to erase them."
Alfie caresses her face again. She's tired maybe not physically but mentally.
"I love you," she says.
"Me too, luv."
He kisses her again and she reciprocates. It's slow and intimate. Alfie doesn't know how many days passed since the cunt shot him, but it feels like a century, since he could kiss her that way. Savouring her, feeling her, smelling her. Alfie pushes Rose to him to have her closer to his body. Not longer after, the morning finds them making love again. Smiling at each other, not just because they love each other. But also because they're alive.
38 years ago, after helping to clean her neighbour's house, Mrs. Coldwell went to see her daughter. It was strange that Rose wasn't crying demanding to be feed. To her suprise she found her still sleeping but the newborn baby wasn't. He was awake and in silence. Mrs. Coldwell felt like he was guarding Rose. Stupid to think because Alfie was less than 10 hours of life. But that was she thought.
It's not longer the sunrise. The sky is completely blue and the sun is shining. Alfie had already taken his pills and had his first breakfast in a long time. The drugs are making effect, he's a bit dizzy now but awake. At his side Rose is sleeping against him. His arm is around her. Protecting her. Guarding her. His, sweet and yet strong, Rosie. Alfie strokes her hair, she's sleeping peacefully with no nightmares. They will return, sooner or later, Alfie knows a bit about having nightmares after a traumatic episode. But for now she sleeps.
The sound of the waves give him the rest of the calm he needs.
Something good is about to come. Alfie doesn't know what yet. But there's something there… he can feel it.
Down in the beach a mother and her daughter are having a day at the sea. They are playing and collecting seashells. It won't last, she has to go to work again but the day is too nice to not be there with her two year old baby. A childish laugh can be heard for all over the beach.
"Come here!! Leave that crab, alone!! We have to go, Allie!!" the mother yells before grabbing her daughter's hand and walk towards the building where they're living.
But Alfie doesn't hear the name. Drugs finally did they work and now both Solomons are sleeping.
But he's right, the best is about to come.
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neewtmas · 1 year ago
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24 days of Appreciation
DAY 2
Welcome to the second day of appreciation this month, where we shine a spotlight each day on those we appreciate in this fandom!
If you want to submit someone or something (for more info read here), you can do so here or just message me! If you wanna stay anonymous, either tell me or submit on anon.
Appreciation from me:
Today, I wanna appreciate @waitingforthesunrise, who might just be the absolut sweetest person in this entire fandom (case in point: the ask you sent me asking to submit me🥹). Your positivity is unmatched, and your presence is light and warmth, the sunrise personified basically. You were so very nice to me when I joined this fandom and made me feel welcome even though I really struggle to build friendships, online just as much as irl. I always read your poetry, even though poetry is not really my thing, but I admire you so much for being able to write it so beautifully. The poem you wrote for me some months ago? That still hangs on my picture wall. Also, remember the one time you made fanart for my locklyle fic??? Literal best thing ever. And now I always think of you when I see a pretty sunrise/sunset. ILY🧡🧡
Appreciation from others (submissions):
from @novelizt: Hi, I'm Liz! Since this season is all about sharing, I'd like to share my appreciation for a few people that made this fandom feel like family to me. I'm not really sure if there's a limit to how many people I can mention, but the list is long so I'll stick to my ride or dies First of all, @tangledinlove who made me fall in love with Anthony Lockwood. Your kindness basically cemented my place in this crazy family. You're the loveliest, and I always round back to reading your fics when I need a pick-me-up. Your words are forever tattooed into my brain. On top of that, you are one of my favorite persons I've met on this app, and I hope you know how much I appreciate you. Next, @kiyasoup and @avdioblisss who I basically share braincells with. Any notif from y'all means my day will be good. I don't know what else to say other than I love you and I hope all your dream come true 💙 Also, @mitskiswift99 who always makes me blush and sob and shriek. If I had the power to teleport and hug you, I would! My Swiftie soulmate, I love you dearly 💙 Last, but definitely not least, the feeders of my delusions, @lewkwoodnco @bella-rose29 @ukulelevillainwrites and @atlabeth !! I used to read your fics and think "damn, they're so cool" and now we're moots jsnhs Some days, I still feel like I'm dreaming. Your fics are my fuel for life. Please keep doing what you're doing. 70 years from now, I'll still be reblogging your works 💙 Yeesh, I really don't know how to keep things short. I just have a lot of love for this fandom, and I hope everyone enjoys their holidays. Lots of love <3
Show your appreciation and submit someone or something here :)
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infintiandbeyond · 2 years ago
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Marigolds don’t taste like honey || Bakugou x GN!Reader
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Prompt: Reader catches hanahaki disease for Bakugou. Will he figure it out before it's too late?
This is my first real completed fanfiction work. Please be nice. I tried to make this gender neutral and non discriminate so everyone can enjoy. Constructive criticism is welcomed. No beta so if there are mistakes please let me know. Thank you and enjoy.
Warning: Angst, happy ending, mentions of blood, near death experiences, self-sacrificing behavior, oblivious boys, tears and cursing. 
Word count : 5.5k
Read this on AO3 as well
--------------------------
You and Katsuki had been friends for exactly 7 years, 11 months and 29 days.
You were on the verge of spending 8 years by the side of the rudest, self-centered, egotistical megalomaniac and could not think of any other way you would have rather spent your time. Because no matter how much Katsuki pushes your buttons, it's hard to hate the love of your life. And it’s moments like today that make you realize just how gone you are for your best friend. 
You glanced around at the pieces of marigolds scattered around and the splotches of blood that stained your favorite Dynamight graphic tee as you gaze at the last few moments of the sunrise over the horizon. You reached your hand up and brushed against the trunk of the tree that had been here for years. Childish scratches had been carved into the trunk. 
Katsuki + (Y/n)
Well…at least he won’t be alone. You looked at the brightening sky one last time and whispered your final goodbye as the heaviness in your body finally caught up with you, closing your eyes to the sound of firecrackers in the distance.
___________
A day ago…
“Mina, I really don't think this is a good idea.” You threw yourself onto the bed inside your apartment, suppressing the urge to hide inside the closet and never see the light of day again.
“(Y/n), think how romantic it would be for you to confess to Bakugou on the anniversary of the day you guys became friends. I can't think of a more adorable get together story.” you could hear Mina swooning over the phone at the thought of how picturesque that moment would be in theory. However, in reality, that is probably the furthest thing from the truth that could happen. 
“You mean how suicidal it would be to confess to an emotionally constipated man that could kill me without a second thought,” you moaned in frustrastion. “We’ve been friends for forever and I would hate to ruin the years of trust built into that bond over a stupid crush.”
You got off the bed and started to head to the small kitchen down the hall for a glass of water. They could feel the start of a sore throat beginning, maybe karaoke night with Mina and Denki wasn’t the best idea in hindsight. 
“But it isn’t stupid, you won’t ever know if those feelings are reciprocated if you never give it the chance.” Mina was a sweetheart, really, but when it came to matters of the heart, her approach tended to lean more towards the hopeless romantic side of things. You could tell she meant well and maybe she was right, Kats might feel the same way. 
Or he could hate her for even suggesting such a thing. Honestly there is a 50/50 chance here. 
“Maybe you’re right Mina, I'll go see if he wants to hangout after patrol next week and maybe I will have the courage to confess by then.” You continued to take some more sips of your water. Geez, I might have to grab some cough drops. The tickle in your throat seemed to get a little worse with the addition of the water. you feel the phone vibrate on your face, indicating an incoming message.
BoomBoomBoy:
Hey idiot, I left my lunch in my fridge so I have to order takeout. I’m getting some curry from the place on 50th, and I don’t want to hear your fucking complaining about how I ate it without you. Meet me in my office in an hour. 
“Speaking of the devil, he just demanded I spend his lunch with him so I gotta head to the office now. Maybe I'll be able to ask him to -” You began to cough very hard, as if there was something stuck in the back of your throat. “Sorry Mina, I think I'm coming down with something, but I am going to start getting ready now.”
“No problem, I hope you feel better, and remember even if he says no, there's still a place for you in my heart.” you loved Mina, truly. They hung up the phone and left to get ready to eat lunch with Bakugou, not noticing the three flower petals lying precariously next to the glass of water. 
___________
At the office…
You march your way into the building, past the receptionist and into the elevator that was specifically reserved for Midoriya and Katsuki. You pressed the button for the top floor. As the numbers on the screen begin the increase, signaling your ascent to his office, you couldn’t help but feel a heaviness weighing in your stomach. This is the kind of confession that could change the course of your life. You and Katsuki had been friends for so long and much of your lives were ingrained with each other’s presence. Movie and dinner nights when he was free from patrol, quick lunch outings when he couldn’t get away from the office, quiet brunches at the coffee shop when you were having trouble sleeping or when work got too stressful. He was a pillar in your life that you didn’t think you could afford to lose. 
The elevator rang, notifying you that you had finally made it to your desitination. You walk briskly down the hall to your left, hoping to not lose your nerve. As you get closer to Katsuki’s office you can hear the gruff rumbles of his voice through the walls.
“Of course I don’t know what to fucking do Shitty Hair, i’ve never been great at this type of shit.” Bakugou sounded very frustrated with the topic of conversation. You start to slightly open the door, aiming to signal your entrance, just in case this was a sensitive topic. However, before you could peep your head around, the next words that tumbled from his math stopped you in your tracks.
“You know it’s not that fucking simple, dumbass. I can’t just tell them how I fucking feel. I think I might actually love them- No, I know I fucking love the shit out of them and I can’t do anything about it.” There was a slight pause where you assumed Kirishima was answering him. “FUCKING FINE!” He lowered his tone, “I’ll talk to them tonight about it and see, but if this shit doesn’t work and I lose her, you're gonna wish I had killed your ass.” His voice had sounded more serious than you had ever heard him before. Even more than when he had declared that he would stop at nothing to be Number One. 
I felt something drop on your hand, and looked down. Water was dripping from your hand. You quickly touched your face…no that wasn't water. You had started to shed tears and didn’t realize it. You released the door like it was on fire and ran to the nearest restroom. 
Katsuki is in love… 
You grasp at the edges of the sink as you try to coach yourself to breathe. You glanced up at the mirror and grimaced at the puffiness of your face and the redness of your eyes. Grabbing some paper towels you start to wipe your face with some cold water to try and salvage your demeanor before you have to go back. As you finally get cleaned up and start fixing yourself to head back out the door, a sudden wave of dizziness starts to overtake you. You lean over the sink and begin to hack and cough as if something was lodged within the back of your throat. Little splatters of blood began to cover the white porcelain sink and you watched yourself in horror as little by little, bunches of yellow petals began to litter the rest of the sink. When you had finally finished with your coughing fit, you looked at the sick. In utter despair you fell to your knees at the sight of 3 rather large marigold flowers on top of the pile of petals. 
Katsuki is in love… and it's going to fucking kill me.
___________
You finally were able to manage and get yourself together enough to exit the bathroom. Bless whoever has to clean up that mess. You shakily made your way to the frosted glass door labeled: DYNAMIGHT. You slowly knock on the door, interrupting Katsuki’s current conversation.
“I ALREADY TOLD YOU FUCKING EXTRAS THAT IM TAKING MY LUNCH AND TO LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” his voice bellowed throughout the hallway, bouncing off the walls. You opened the door anyway and peeked your head in the door. Bakugou sat upright at his desk and hurriedly hung up the phone, not even bothering to tell Kirishima goodbye. You resist the urge to not feel offended as he laid his eyes on you. His features visibly softened as he recognized who had knocked on his door and graced you with a wide and vicious smirk. 
“Hey shortcake, what took you so fucking long?” To an untrained eye, he looked as if he had been waiting for you to come this entire time. But you could tell, outside of walking in on his earlier discussion, the slight sheen on his forehead, the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on his desk and the shakiness behind his shit-eating smirk very much signaled that he was nervous about something and DID NOT want to talk about it. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest. 
“Hey Firecracker, what are you up to?” You secretly hoped that he would clear up the fog of confusion in your brain. You’re his best friend, he told you everything. The day that he thought about leaving Endeavor’s agency and starting his own, he spent the night with you planning out everything to get started. The nightmares he had about the LOV, were comforted by you. You were there for everything, and as much as it would pain you, there’s no way you wouldn’t be there for this. 
“Absolutely nothing, just dealing with some goddamn PR nightmare. Some dumb shit about my image not being too great.” Your heart dropped. He had lied to you. He lied to you. He LIED to you.  Katsuki is in love with some women and didn’t even plan to tell me about it. Your shaky smile dropped fiercely, but you quickly recovered and attempted to give another smile but only managed a bleak grimace. Bakugo, mistaking that look as a response to his answer, gestured for you to come and sit at his desk with him. His usual client chair was replaced with a comfortable armchair in anticipation of your visit. He knew that the chair was unbearingly uncomfortable on purpose to make his clients uneasy in his presence but switches it out for something more comfortable when you visit him. 
“Come sit the hell down shortstack.” He had also taken to calling you aggressively affectionate names after a small incident in which you yelled at him that calling you a ‘dumbass idiot’ all the time wasn’t the most friendly experience. Thus these ‘sweet’ insults were formed. 
You walked your way over to his desk, why he had it at the absolute other end of the room still astounded you but you’re starting to believe everything about his office was an intimidation tactic. Usually it doesn't bother you but after the events that just occurred, it starts to nip at your nerves, leaving you a little unsteady. Once you had made it to your designated chair, you were shocked to see that in place of the mediocre curry that you were expecting from Mrs Lee’s cute little curry shop down the street, Katsuki had placed you very beautifully made bento boxes on his desk. The smell of his signature curry wafts up your nose and you look at him in confusion. He gave a slight smile in response.
“You really think I’d feed you shit that wasn’t the best, huh?” He raised his eyebrow in question. “You know know my food is the fucking best, and I don’t settle for anything less than perfection.” And while those words would usually send your heart soaring at the gesture that is so unapologetically Katsuki Bakugou, you couldn’t help but feel a faint pang in your heart at those words and you feel your throat start to close up just a bit. You gave a strained smile back at him. “Damn Kats, you didn’t have to do that. How am I supposed to hold up my end of this friendship if you’re always trying to one up me?” 
“You’re not. I’m the fucking best.You can’t compete with me.” He looked at you proudly, as if he was pleased that he could do shit like this and leave you feeling swept off your feet. You sat down in your chair, feeling a little lighter than when you came in. You both began to quietly dig in, but you could still feel the nervous energy radiating off him in waves. You glanced up at him and noticed that he was already staring right at you. 
You blinked at him, “Suki are you okay?” you gently grabbed the hand that was still tapping away at the edge of the desk. That was the name reserved for the softest of moments, when he knows you're genuinely concerned. 
He blinked back, shaking his head and gave you back a shaky smirk. “Yeah, just going through a lot of shit at work, but we’re not here to talk about that bullshit. We’re here to enjoy a nice lunch by yours truly. So don’t worry your pretty little head, ya little ankle biter.” He ruffled the hair on top of your head. You swatted his hand away, and he gave a deep chuckle as you attempted to readjust your hair back to its original state. You spent a lot of time looking presentable… not that you’d be able to do what you planned to do anyways. 
“I got a couple of things to do after work today but I’m coming over tonight.” Bakugou had a way of inserting himself in your life without asking but knew when he was welcomed. You were sad. Would he go confess his love tonight and tell you in the aftermath? Am I the asshole if I tell him to fuck off? You shook the thoughts away. “Okay, i’ll pick out some movies then.” You hate your life sometimes. 
“Not any of that psychological thriller shit either, can’t get a good night's sleep after that.” He frowned at the thought. 
“All Might’s new documentary is out.” You suggested, knowing that he couldn’t resist seeing his hero. His eyes lit up. “Now you’re talking, tiny.” You finished your lunch in companionable silence. 
___________
Home…
Once you made it through your apartment door, you raced to the toilet. The next several hours were spent in a pattern of throwing up bloody golden petals and researching the hell out of what you hoped you weren’t experiencing. You stared at your phone.
WebMD
Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病) : a disease in which the patient coughs up flower petals when they suffer from a one-sided love. It can end when the object of thier affections returns thier affections (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. It may be cured through surgical removal, but with the infection goes all romantic feelings for thier beloved. 
No.Fucking.Way.
What the hell does WebMD know? I need a medical professional, because I can’t possibly be going through the dumbest shit in history. You call up Recovery Girl, having gained a more personal relationship with her during your time in UA. She was able to make some room for you in her schedule. 
When you made it to her office, she was already set up and waiting for you. You made your way over to the medical bed and began to explain what was going on as she checked your vitals. When you mentioned the pile of petals that began to appear seemingly overnight, she looked at you with a horror stricken appearance. It did not look comforting. She confirmed your self-diagnosis, it was Hanahaki and you were in the final stages. 
“Oh dearie,” she paused with a heavy sigh, “I can have you scheduled for the surgery in three days. You’d have to avoid whoever it is until then, or risk furthering your condition even more, and considering you’re in the final stages already you’d be facing a fatal end.” She hung her head and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Everything will be oka-
“I don’t want the surgery.” You said it before thinking, but you were sure about your decision. Losing feelings for Katsuki, means losing everything they had built over the past almost eight years. They’ve been through so much together and you’d be damn to have to lose it all now. You looked at her in a false determination. “I’m going to talk to him. There’s gotta be something we can do. I refuse to take the easy way out here.”
She tried to stop you as you began to collect all your things and head to the door. “But dear, if you confess and he doesn’t return those affections then you could die.” She looked as if the room might collapse on her at any moment. She had grown fond of you in the past few years you’ve known each other and would hate to see you risk your life. You shook your head and walked out the door, missing the small tear that ran down Recovery Girl’s face.
“Young Mr. Bakugou better realize his feelings for them before it's too late.”
___________
As you pulled back into your apartment complex, the panic and reality of the situation had started to settle in your mind. You began to hyperventilate. How the hell are you going to save yourself and your friendship? Can I really hope for the best and confess? Even if I don’t, I still have to explain the gravity of the situation. Would it be delusional to hope that maybe Kat’s mystery girl was me? You started to feel a little hope in the pit of despair you call your heart. 
You were greeted on your own front door steps by the man in question. Katsuki Bakugou stood firmly in front of your door with bags in his arms, irritation on his face and knuckles poised to knock fiercely again. “OPEN THE DAMN DOOR, (Y/N)! I KNOW YOU HEAR ME FUCKING CALLING YOU.” 
You rushed to his side and grabbed his hand, nerves sparking at the touch. “Don’t burn my door down, you damn spitfire. I just went out real quick. Geez, you’re so impatient.” You open the door to let you both in, he makes his way straight to the kitchen. Placing his overnight bag by your door and the snacks he bought in the living room. Throwing his jacket on the coat rack, he made himself at home on your couch, scrolling to the All Might Documentary scheduled to come on. 
“You know I hate waiting, it's not like I was worried about your ass or anything.” What you didn’t manage to catch was the small blush on his upper cheeks at his behavior as he faced away from you and fiddled with the TV remote. 
Once you go and get comfortable, you make your way onto the couch right beside him. This was a common occurrence between the two of you. Days when you both were free from responsibilities and work, you’d cuddle up on the couch and binge whatever TV trash was on today while sipping on some handmade cocktail Katsuki had made for the two of you. They were always good and ALWAYS strong. It was a nice distraction from the woes of everyday life, which was particularly helpful on days like today.
Before you were even aware, you’d both fallen into easy conversation, drinks were flowing and it had begun to reach further into the night before you had gained the confidence to finally have a conversation with him. You both stared at each other, a moment of silence had passed, and then you both opened your mouth.
“I need to talk-”
“I have a question-”
You both stopped and blushed in embarrassment at the moment. You swallowed your nerves and let him go first.
“So (y/n),” he never really says your given name unless it's urgent. He swallows hard. “There’s been something that i’ve been meanin to talk to ya about. I’m not really sure how you’ll take it but it’s important that you understand that I would never want to hurt ya, and your friendship means the absolute fucking world to me.” He gets a little choked up. “Um..there’s this girl ya see… and i kinda like the little shit but i’ve just been uh… a little too distracted to talk to her. It’s not because I'm nervous or any dumb shit like that… just a little overwhelmed with some things. But tonight is the night im gonna tell ‘er.” He was breathing a little too heavy as if these were dying words. “(Y/n), I really fucking like - no im in love with-”. His dialogue was discontinued by a loud ringing sound coming from his phone. He looked really frustrated at the interruption. He picked up his phone and glanced at the caller. You were only able to glean the name from the top of the phone before you swiped right on the caller and looked at you - Round Cheeks.
“Sorry, (y/n) - fuck, i really need to take this right now. Just hold on a sec.” He raced to the spare room and closed the door. 
You sat on the couch frozen. You weren’t sure how to feel. You were almost sure you had a chance at this, but from what it sounds like…you’ve been friendzoned pretty hard. For fucking Uraraka. You could hear your heart beating in your ears. The blood rushing to your face at the utter embarrassment you would’ve just made of yourself had you confess your feelings for this man. This man who valued you as a friend, and apparently nothing more. Your chest started to feel constricted. Your airways are closing. You were overcome with several emotions all at once. Anger, jealousy, despair and of course… fear. You were gonna die unless you got that surgery. 
He exited the bedroom, looking very relieved and almost… happy. You guess the phone call went well. He walked in big strides to your side and grabbed your hands. They were sweaty like always, it was one of the things you had always liked about him, no matter how self-conscious it made him. You both stared into each other's eyes. You could feel the oncoming signs of another floral arrangement, and if he said those fatal words to you, you didn’t know if you’d be able to take it. He started to open his mouth again, but before he could finish his thought, you stopped him in his tracks. 
“Hey Katsuki, i don’t think i’m feeling too well. Could we maybe raincheck for another day. I think i’m going to be sick.” You start to clean up the snack wrappers from the living room. He immediately looked concern. 
“If you’re feeling sick, munchkin, then let me help ya.” He started to walk away to maybe make some soup or grab medicine like he always does, but that’s not what you wanted. You wanted him to go. 
“No, Katsuki, I think I'm all good here by myself. I’ll just go to the doctor’s tomorrow.” You hated turning him away, but it was for both of your own goods. 
“What the hell is up with ya, shorty?” He was starting to get frustrated. Why won’t you let him help? “Just let me take care of ya.” He walked over to your side where your back was turned towards him. He grabs your arm and turns you around. You were crying.
“NO, BAKUGOU! I'M GOOD JUST LEAVE!” You shrugged his hands off you and headed towards the door. He was just making this harder for you, why couldn’t he just understand. He needed to go, the longer he stayed the sicker you felt, but when you looked him in the eyes, it broke down every defense you had, you couldn’t lose your feelings for this man. No surgery could stop these feelings.
“I'M NOT JUST GONNA LEAVE YOU HERE TO FIGHT THIS DAMN SICKNESS ALONE!” He just wanted to help you. He cared about you more than he wanted to admit, and you denying him was something he didn’t know how to take. 
“Fine then,” You put your shoes on and grabbed your keys. You looked back at him as you put one foot out the door. “If you won’t leave then I will.” Maybe you were overreacting here but you couldn’t stand to stay there in that room with him, knowing that any second you’d cough up bloody marigolds and have to explain why you might die there in his arms. You closed the door behind you, coughing on your way out as you struggled to make your way to your car. 
___________
Bakugou wasn’t sure what the hell was going on. One minute he was enjoying the only real piece of comfort he had in this world, and now he stared at a closed door as the love of his life walked out on him. Confusion settled in his stomach. 
What the absolute fuck just happened? He replayed all the events of tonight's festivities. You guys were finally watching that All Might documentary that he had been putting off for ages just to watch with you. You were both a little tipsy but the atmosphere was light and fun. You looked so beautiful. Your cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, and you stuffed your face with chips, not worrying about how you might look. He loved that about you. The way you were unabashedly you, how you cared about him, how you seemed to love him. It was that moment that gave him the confidence to confess. He had to tell you now, there’s so much he wanted to do, to experience, to learn with you, and if he didn’t take those steps now, he might never take them. He steeled his nerves to tell you the truth of his heart, but before he could say those important words, Uraraka called. 
Fucking round cheeks has the worst fucking timing. He had commissioned Uraraka and Kirishima to set something of a date up for the two of you, had this evening gone to plan. However, the plans were a bit time sensitive, given that your friendship anniversary was in two days, and he wanted everything to be perfect, this call was important. He swore he had only stepped out for two seconds to confirm the dinner reservation and the schedule swapping he did to ensure that no one would bother him for work duties that day.  
When he stepped back out into the living room, he could feel a change in the atmosphere, but that wasn’t enough to deter him from talking to you. He walked towards you, butterflies in his whole body. He grabbed your hands. They were soft. Comforting. Just like you. But before he could express these thoughts to you, everything went to shit. 
You were sick, you usually were after a few too many drinks but never this early in the night. He went to grab your tylenol from the medicine cabinet, he couldn’t resist the urge to take care of you. Especially, when that’s all you’ve ever done for him. He’s gone through a lot to be the man he is today, and a majority of that he owes to your too-kind-for-your-own-good nature. But today you didn’t want his help, you wanted him to leave, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why.
He sat on your couch, confused about what to do now. 
Maybe I should call Shitty Hair, it was his dumb fucking idea anyway. He looked around for his phone but couldn’t find it. He walked past the front door, where he saw you had dropped your phone in your haste to leave. He looked at the time 5:36 AM. 
The sun is about to fucking rise and their out there, god knows where, sick to thier goddamn stomach. What the hell am I doing? I need to go find them.
He was about to grab his jacket when he caught a missed call and voicemail from Recovery Girl. He knew you two were pretty close, especially after all the time you spent by his side in the infirmary. He clicked on the voicemail, it must’ve been important if she left a voicemail. 
“Hello dearie, I hope this doesn’t reach you too late. I did some analysis on your bloodwork after you left so I could see if there were some more options for you. Unfortunately, it seems as if you have contracted a very rare form of Hanahaki Disease. This particular form takes place over a 24 hour period and only allows you that time frame to find a cure. I’m not sure when you first started to develop signs but it is imperative that you give me a call right away.”
Bakugou dropped the phone from his hands. Hanahaki Disease? The fucking love disease? You had fallen in love? And with some dumbass idiot who didn’t feel the same way? 
How dare that bastard not love you? You were perfect. You were kind, caring and smart. You didn’t take anyones bullshit and you stood by those you love. Now you were god knows how long away from fucking dying and there was nothing he could do?
No. There was something he could do. He could find you and make this right. Even if you didn’t love him the way he loved you, you didn’t deserve to die over it. You deserved to be happy. He was going to make sure that fucking happened. Bakugou grabbed the door but was met with a wet sensation. There was blood on the door, and a trail of yellow petals greeted him from the door to the parking lot. 
Fuck…I hope im not too late. He jumped in the air and began to search for your figure. You didn’t make it far. Your car was haphazardly parked on the side of the park that you two often frequented together. You were laying by the tree that you two had carved your names in years ago. His heart seized at the sight of so much blood and flowers that surrounded you. 
He landed by your side. Two fingers pressed against your throat. You were barely breathing. He had to get you out of here. 
“Shit, wake up shortcake.” His voice sounded teary. “We gotta find the bastard that did this to ya. I’ll make him pay” He started to pick you up.
You roused a bit from the noise. You had to be dreaming. Bakugou stood over you. The rising sun shining behind him, giving him a golden glow. You smiled.
What a way to go. You raised your hand up to his cheek. Blood smears across his cheek. Even though he wasn’t real, it couldn’t hurt to lift this heaviness off your shoulders. You locked eyes with him and croaked out your last words. 
“I’m sorry for loving you, ‘Suki. You mean the world to me and I wish I could’ve told you.”
Bakugou froze in his panicked state. You loved him? Then why the fuck were you dying? Of course he loved you too. How could he not.
He grabbed you by the face. “Don’t you ever dare be sorry for loving me, because I’m sure the hell not.” He pressed his lips to yours so brutally, you’d think he was waging a war on your face. 
The suffocating feeling in your chest lifted itself so quickly as if it had never been there. You could breathe again.The feeling of being on death’s door had miraculously disappeared, and against all odds you had lived. You had lived because Katsuki loved you and you loved him back. 
Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes and you wrapped your arms around him.
“I love you so much Katsuki.”
“I love you too (Y/n). Now let's get your ass home, and into some clean clothes. I can’t let my girl get sick for real.” He quickly lifted you off the ground, not giving you a chance to voice your protests. But you’d gladly be in his arms forever. 
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stargareed · 9 days ago
Text
Leave Your Mark
Summary: Jon and Dany have a fight, then make up after Jon gives a thoughtful gift, then realize that the issue they were fighting over isn’t as pressing as they thought.
(Jonerys fanfic)
Jon sat with Dany on the beach of Blackwater Bay waiting for the sun to rise. They tried to come out a few days before, but it was far too cloudy. However, this morning the reds, oranges, yellows, and pinks graced the sky above the horizon unobscured, signaling that they likely didn’t have long to wait to see the sun in all its glory. Though Jon wasn’t in a hurry, with his trousers rolled up to his knees and his bare feet only a foot or two away from the water.
A few weeks prior they had watched the sun disappear beyond the horizon from the shores of the Sunset Sea on Fair Isle, and Dany said it was strange that they had never seen the sunrise from the shores of Blackwater Bay. Apparently, watching it from the safety of the Red Keep was not the same for Dany. A sunrise isn’t a sunrise unless you could potentially be attacked by a crab, Jon thought as he watched a red, eight-legged creature scuttle sideways not far from where they were sitting. Or was it ten-legged? Do the claws count as legs? A true king should know such things. Ghost was supposed to be protecting them, but only the gods know where he went. While Jon could warg into Ghost, he was afraid that the moment he did he’d find a seagull in his mouth, and he’d rather have bacon for breakfast when they got back to the Red Keep.  
Jon turned to look at Dany, who had her toes buried in the sand and seemed lost in thought staring at the waves. Her profile was absolutely stunning. There was a perfect dip between her graceful brow and small, but regal nose. And then there were her imminently-kissable full lips, which gave way to a lovely chin. Gods, am I really lusting after her chin? Truly, she belonged on coins. Though, on second thought, it would likely ruin Westeros’s economy because no one would spend anything as they’d never want to part with her portrait. I am a lucky man.
She turned to look at him and grinned, futilely trying to keep stray hairs from being blown into her face by the wind which seemed to grow stronger over open water. Then she turned back to look at the bay, and her grin faded once more into a more contemplative look. I can’t wait for her to open her present when we get back.
“Isn’t it strange how the waves come, one after the other?” Dany asked, breaking the silence. “And each one is only here for a moment before it recedes, quickly replaced by another. I couldn’t tell you the difference between the last wave I saw and a wave I saw five minutes ago. They all look the same. They don’t leave a mark.”
“Well, some waves leave a mark, just not a good one,” Jon reasoned. “Don’t you remember the tidal wave that came through a few years ago that damaged some of the homes along the shore?”
“I do. And that’s precisely what I want to be: a tidal wave, but for good. I want to leave a mark,” Dany stated boldly.
Jon chuckled. “I’m fairly certain you’ve already left a mark. You brought dragons back, defeated the Army of the Dead, restored House Targaryen . . . first ruling Queen . . . should I continue, or do you get the point?”
“We’re co-rulers, Jon. And while those things are nice, I don’t want to become fat and complacent,” Dany dismissed his praise.
Jon snorted and looked back at the open waters. “You’ll never do that. It’s simply not in your nature.”  When he turned to look at her again, he noticed that she looked slightly hurt that he wasn’t taking her seriously. Seven help me.
Jon once again turned his attention back to the white caps along the water. “Well, what would you like to do to further leave your mark?” He squinted his eyes as he saw the yellow-orange sun begin to peak above the horizon. He opened his mouth to tell Dany.
“I’d like to change the rules of succession so that the oldest child is the heir, regardless of what is between their legs,” Dany blurted out.
Jon closed his mouth and furrowed his brow. “That . . . that would certainly leave a mark. And of course, the Dornish have done it that way for a thousand years and it seems to work for them. Well, we can speak with Aemon and get his thoughts on the matter.”
“Why would we need to speak with Aemon?” Dany asked.
“Because he’s the heir, and he’s the one who’d implement the change,” Jon explained, looking at Dany slightly confused.
“He’s the heir under the old system. He wouldn’t be the heir under the new system. That’d be Alys.”
“You’re not serious?” Jon asked, getting offended on his son’s behalf. Though, when he saw a flash of anger cross his wife’s face, he immediately regretted his choice of words. I need to be more measured. He sighed. “Dany, if we decide to make the change, we can’t implement it now. Aemon has been the heir for 14 years. If we tell him that Alys is now the heir, he’ll assume we think he’s unworthy. That would crush him.”
“No, he won’t. I’ll talk to him and explain that we all must sacrifice for future generations. He’ll understand. Unlike his father, he’s capable of being reasonable,” Dany complained. Jon glared at her, both for her words and the disdain in her voice when she spoke the word “father.” Dany refused to meet his stare, and instead looked out over the water at a sunrise that didn’t seem to matter anymore.
Don’t lose your temper. She’s hurt because she thinks you’re being dismissive. “Dany, he might say he understands, but you know inside he’ll be hurt. Why not just wait a few years and apply it to the next generation of unborn children?”
“And what about Alys, Jon? You of all people know how brilliant she is and what a great Queen she’d make!” Dany boldly met his stare and spoke with passion in her voice. “After all, you’re the one who stays up half the night talking to her about history and politics. I know she’s your favorite.” Dany cocked her brow.
“Maybe she is, we’re . . . we’re very similar. But that doesn’t change the fact that changing the rules now would be unfair to Aemon, who I know is your favorite, which makes it even more puzzling that you’re so willing to hurt him.”
“It won’t hurt him, Jon. He’ll understand. I know my son. He’s good, and he wants to do what’s right,” Dany defended.
“Is it right, though?” Jon asked.
“Are you serious? You don’t think women are capable rulers?” Dany was indignant.
“No. I never said that. Quit putting words in my mouth,” Jon said frowning. He hesitated for a moment to collect his thoughts. “My point is, even if it’s a good rule in theory, that doesn’t mean it’s a good rule in reality.”
“Explain.” Dany crossed her arms.
“Well, for one, for better or worse, the majority of lords will prefer a male ruler,” Jon reasoned.
“Why does that matter?”
“It will cause tension. I’m not saying that that fact alone should prevent the new rule, but it is something we should consider at the very least.” Dany sighed. “Also,” Jon continued, “there’s the issue with last names. Despite being the heir, Rhaenyra’s children with Laenor were Velaryons. So, there’s a chance that, unless she married her brother, any ruling queen’s heirs would not be Targaryens. Is that what we want?”
“First, everyone knows Rhaenyra’s children with Laenor weren’t Laenor’s. Which is another benefit to a ruling queen. We can guarantee that her heirs are actually hers and that there won’t be any repeats of the Robert-Cersei-Jaime farce.”
“True,” Jon admitted.
“And as for last names, we can just do what the Dornish have done. Any inheriting female gives her last name to her children,” Dany reasoned. "And I'm sure Jacaerys would have inherited the Targaryen name along with the throne had things turned out differently." 
“But what man would marry a queen knowing that his sons won’t share his name?” Jon scoffed.
“Um, one that gets to be a king?! You know how ambitious families are, they’d take that trade any day!”
“A consort isn’t a king,” Jon dismissed.
“Are you saying Queen Alysanne wasn’t a real queen?” Dany retorted. Fuck, she’s got me there.
“Look, my point is, even if the rule is a good one, that doesn’t mean we should immediately implement it without consideration of the consequences.”
“I’m tired of compromising to placate old men. I tried to do that in Meereen and it almost got me killed!” Dany exclaimed.
“Well, I refused to compromise as Lord Commander and it did get me killed!” Jon shot back.
Dany glared at him. “Of course, you’d bring that up,” she complained as she got up to leave.
“Why shouldn’t I bring that up? If you were murdered, you can’t tell me it wouldn’t affect your future decisions!” Jon was getting exasperated at his wife’s stubbornness.
“I wouldn’t let it paralyze me into inaction, and neither should you!”
“I’ve done plenty of action and made plenty of changes as King. I’m sorry if I’m not as impulsive as you and actually like to think things through,” Jon replied harshly.
“Fuck you, Jon!” Dany bent down, picked up a handful of sand, and threw it at him before storming off.
“Are you serious? How old are you?” Jon complained as he wiped the sand from his shirt. Dany didn’t answer. He sighed and took one final glance at the sun, which was now sitting high above the horizon in a blue sky, the earlier vibrant colors having long disappeared.
The trip back to the Red Keep was long and full of awkward silence. Jon couldn’t help but notice the looks of pity his kingsguard gave him. Or maybe he was imagining it? After all, they’d heard far more embarrassing sounds coming out of Jon and Dany’s bedchamber than a heated argument.
When Jon finally returned to his bedchamber, he found Dany standing beside a box. Gods, I forgot about the present. “What is this?” she asked, looking almost annoyed.
“It’s a present,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Don’t think you can just buy your way out of trouble,” she warned.
Jon rolled his eyes. “I got this before I knew you were going to be so mean to me this morning.”
She huffed and opened the lid. Then she paused, staring wide eyed at the contents of the box. She slowly raised her shaking hands and picked up what was inside, revealing a slender gold crown set with gemstones of different colors.
“How?” she choked.
Jon smiled. “Well, it’s quite a long stor--” he began, stopping when he saw her fall to her knees.
She hugged the crown tight and wept, whispering “muna” over and over as she slowly rocked back and forth. Jon’s heart tugged at the sight of his love’s raw emotion. He wanted desperately to comfort her, but he also wanted her to have time alone with the crown, the only physical reminder she had of a mother she never knew. After a few moments Dany started shaking and Jon rushed over, fell to his knees, and enveloped his aunt in a tight hug. She put the crown down and returned his hug fiercely, continuing to cry. Their earlier argument now seemed so petty.
“I’m sorry,” Jon said with a muffled voice.
“I’m sorry I threw sand at you,” Dany replied, her crying beginning to abate, replaced by sniffles.
Jon smiled. He helped her stand up and Dany placed the beautiful crown on the bed. She once again hugged him tightly, then broke to look up at him with glistening violet eyes that never failed to mesmerize him. “You got me my mother’s crown?” Dany asked, her voice filled with emotion. Jon nodded. “You got me my mother’s crown?!”
Jon laughed. “Aye.”
She hugged him again, even tighter than before. Then she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, supporting herself by wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulders. It was the most deliberate kiss he ever experienced, and it caused tingles and feelings of warmth to rush over his body.
After several seconds Jon started to break away, only to have Dany’s hands cup the back of his head to keep him in place. “Mm-mmm,” she commanded, and so the kiss continued a while longer, though he didn’t mind.
She eventually separated their lips, though she remained close, lightly brushing her nose against his, while her wet lashes kissed his cheek. Then she lowered herself and rested her head on his chest, draping her arms around his lower back. He kissed the crown of her head. How fitting.
“I want to show Alys,” Dany broke the silence, her voice muffled by Jon’s chest.
“Of course, that’s a wonderful idea,” Jon agreed and got Dany something to wipe her eyes with.
Alys’s door was already cracked, so they opened it and made their way inside, only to stop dead in their tracks at the sight that greeted them. Alys and Aemon were laying on the bed, kissing one another passionately and running their hands all over the other’s body. Jon blinked a few times in disbelief, and upon realizing that his children were oblivious to their parents’ presence, loudly cleared his throat.
His two children quickly separated at the sound, flushed with embarrassment. “Uh, sorry, um, we were just, uh, reading,” Aemon said, picking up a long-forgotten book that also happened to be on the bed beside him.
“Yes, and, you see, the characters . . . um, kissed partway through the book, and well, we wanted to know what that was like, so we could, uh, better understand the story,” Alys added.
Jon and Dany just stared at them in silence.
“But don’t worry, it was surprisingly gross, actually,” Aemon chimed in, his excuses getting worse by the moment.
“Yes, we definitely won’t be doing that again anytime soon. Or ever, I mean, ever,” Alys replied.
Dany and Jon continued to silently scold them by letting the awkwardness hang over the room, embarrassed for their children’s sakes. Thankfully, Dany finally spoke. “Yes, it looked like you both were just having a miserable time kissing one another. And we are impressed by your dedication to understanding the book characters.” She looked at Jon.
Jon nodded. “Yes, very . . . impressed.”
“Alright, well, you two may continue reading, as long as the door remains completely open.” Dany raised her brow, warning her children. “After all, you need proper ventilation when you read. You don’t want things getting too stuffy.”
“Aye, stuffy reading is the worst,” Jon added.
“Thanks, we love you!” Aemon and Alys said as Jon and Dany left the room and made their way back to their bedchambers.
“Well, it looks like our earlier argument is now moot,” Jon said.
“Yes. And honestly, co-ruling has worked well for us, and it will likely work for them, too,” Dany added. Then she stopped walking and turned to face him. “Wait, how did you get my mother’s crown again?”
Jon grinned. “As I said, it’s a long story. But it may have involved making the person who originally found it a lord of an abandoned castle in the Crownlands. I mean, it’s not like I gave him Harrenhal.”
“No, that’s . . . I agree. That was reasonable.” Dany said.
“And, well, I may have threatened to dracarys someone’s house who was trying to extort a higher price. But it was only a threat, I wouldn’t have actually done it even if he refused to retract his exorbitant demands.”
“As king, you are expected to vigorously negotiate on behalf of House Targaryen. As far as I’m concerned, you did nothing wrong.” She once again defended his questionable actions. He smiled. We may end up in one of the Seven Hells, but at least we’ll be there together.
“Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to do a little reading myself,” Dany said suggestively. “But with the door shut. I want things to get a little . . . stuffy.”
Jon grinned as he wrapped his arms around her and patted her bottom. “Aye. Stuffy reading is the best.”
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bellatrixobsessed1 · 1 year ago
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Cottonwood Fluff
Summary: Azula and Sokka go for a walk in the Earth Kingdom countryside.
Note: Really short story for Sokkla Saturday (Combined this prompt and the last).
Spring in the Earth Kingdom is a far cry from spring in the Fire Nation. It isn’t so sizzling hot but it is still teeming with nature. She likes the daisies and dandelions the best. How they spot the rolling countryside with vast pops of white and yellow. Little bursts of sunlight. She also enjoys the cottonwoods and the fluff that they put in the air, even though it makes her nose tingle and her eyes water. Sokka says that she might be allergic to pollen. 
Most of the time she doesn’t mind. Watery eyes and tingling is a small price to pay to feel the earth; the grass between her toes, petals between her fingers, and–when she is in the right mood–dirt and mud on the soles of her feet.
It is good for her, she thinks, to smell dew on the grass and honeysuckle in the early morning. She certainly hasn’t felt as stressed and distraught since Sokka started taking her here. To be frank, she isn’t entirely certain of where here is, or if the little town even has a name. 
It is, afterall, just a cluster of houses. Maybe ten or eleven of them and then that path that leads to Gaoling.
Sunrises and mornings are quiet here.
She likes to take her tea with honey and chamomile and listen to the grasshoppers chirp and the bees buzz. She likes to listen to the wind shake the tall grasses, barely, and branches. The Earth Kingdom is full of grains and oats. Sometimes, when she is lucky, Sokka gets some peanut butter and some honey and bakes those grains and oats into a little snack for the both of them to eat on the porch or by that pond with the rickety little bridge. 
She swears that one day it is going to collapse on the both of them and they’ll have to walk all the way home drenched. 
The creek likes to gurgle, it isn’t all that deep but it is long and it meanders alongside the path to Gaoling. The one that she and Sokka walk often. Hand in hand without much urgency to get anywhere in particular. 
Sometimes Azula misses the hustle and haste. But these lazy afternoons have treated her so well. So she will take them until she truly starts to itch for Caldera City’s rush and clamor. That busy life that keeps her mind sharp and her soul entertained. 
Today Sokka carries her on his back while he babbles about nothing in particular. The cottonwoods are shedding so much fluff that it could be a snowy winter. Except the grass is vibrant green and the hummingbirds sing and the woodpeckers tap, tap, tap. 
She is starting to doze off. This isn’t particularly uncommon. If she gets relaxed enough she can nod off in seconds.
“Nice day, isn’t it?” Sokka comments. 
“Hmm?” She mumbles. “Yeah.” It is a warm day. Blue skies. Rolling clouds. Rays of sunlight that cut through them and kiss her exposed shoulders. Most days are nice days, she thinks. Which is refreshing considering how many perfectly lovely days had been gray in her mind some not too distant time ago.
“How’s this spot?” 
Azula looks around. He has found them a clearing ringed by dandelions that have yet to lose their wispy white crowns. There are a few fallen logs and several clusters of mushrooms. It smells like moss and pine. 
She hops down from his back. “It’s nice, Sokka.” She wouldn’t mind just sitting here in silence for a little while. Perhaps hours even. That’s what they usually do. She wouldn’t have it any other way. 
They have gotten to a point where they don’t need to talk. They only need to be in each other’s company in the earth’s embrace, counting clouds and robin’s nests until the sun begins to set. 
And all feels right in Azula’s world.
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raccoonfallsharder · 11 months ago
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oh my god! so i kept on telling myself that i’ll read window across the galaxy whenever i find time (haven’t really done that yet T_T it feels like i have all the time in the world and yet not enough) and i come to do my daily check of raccoonfallsharder to find out IT’S FINISHING SOON?! you work at the SPEED OF LIGHT (which is a compliment ❤️‍🩹 i am a snail and i wish i wasn’t.) but hopefully i can start binge reading WATG soon, the excerpts i’ve seen look amazing (which isn’t shocking coming from you. everything you write is a masterpiece!)
all of this to be said, i hope you’re doing okay. i know you write the Rocket Reminders for others but i hope you apply them to yourself as well. you deserve amazing things And More!
okay first of all you do a DAILY CHECK of my blog?? 。°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°。 i mean that has to be an exaggeration but it’s still the sweetest fucken thing ive ever heard?? this seriously has made my whole shitty week better (hello tuesday morning, ive peaked). this whole ask is just so sweet and caring and kind. i might be tearing up in my office. thank you. i am carrying your words with me everywhere i go today, like armor ♡
secondly window will be here waiting for you whenever you’re ready babydoll. it’s not going anywhere (also you don’t gotta binge it! it’s perfectly fine to take bitesized chomps)
thirdly snails are incredibly important. they’re recyclers and pollinators and they are very cute when drinking water. there is nothing wrong with taking time, and fanfic writing should be enjoyable — not something to punish or pressure yourself about. 6 out of 10 experts agree that in all likelihood, trying to rush something like this is just a result of capitalism convincing you of the lie that “productivity” (whatever that is) is the most important thing. the other 4/10 say that you would have more time to create if it weren’t for capitalism in the first place, so it’s still not your fault. anyway the point is please keep being a lovely perfect snail going at your own lovely perfect pace and don’t be too hard on yourself
finally here’s an extra window excerpt (the very beginning) just for you ♡♡♡ may your day be full of soft and happy moments, you gorgeous winter sunrise, and may you feel loved & cared for every second
☆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
The Eclector is dark and, despite the raucous laughter and fighting of the crew, every footfall on the gridded catwalks seems to echo. It smells like rust and oil and old metal, and sometimes sweat, and there’s generally very little that is pleasant about it.
But Kraglin Obfonteri had sent word that the Yondu clan had recently overtaken a Xandaran luxury liner. Among its treasures, there had been a pretty vast art collection, and Jolie is a reliable assessor and - for some of the more common mediums, as well as a few blindingly unique ones - a restorer. It’s not the first time she’s contracted her services out to a Ravager crew. Hell, it’s not even the first time she’s worked with the Yondu Clan. She crosses paths with them at least once every fifteen cycles or so.
So here she is, following some hulking brute named Taserface and dodging when pirates on the catwalk above decide to spit over the side.
What a way to spend my morning, she thinks. There better be something worthwhile in this pile of junk.
They finally leave the belly of the ship and Taserface leads her through a network of cargo holds and corridors, trying to make very awkward conversation and occasionally leering at her. Jolie is a consummate professional, though, and she’s dealt with a lot of creeps. She keeps a polite smile on her lips and a dead look in her eyes. She’d been hoping today’s escort would be the aforementioned Kraglin, or maybe fellow-Terran Peter Quill. Pete’s been family since Jolie met him - almost seven years ago - even if they don’t usually see each other more than once every few cycles at most. He’s a handful of years older than her, but his relative optimism still makes her feel like he’s a sweet, annoying little brother. Frankly, it pulls some heartstrings, because Jolie has baggage where younger siblings are concerned.
Kraglin, on the other hand, is a remarkably endearing moron, and Jolie kind of adores him, the same way she adores particularly stupid cats.
Unfortunately, Jolie gathers that Pete has apparently disappeared in his M-Ship without a word - much to the irritation of the rest of the Yondu clan - and Obfonteri is offsite on orders from the captain, engaging in some kind of criminal activity or another. So here she is, stuck with a guy who could’ve picked any name in the galaxy and settled on Taserface.
Each chamber the pirate guides her through is packed with stolen goods, and she keeps her eyes open in case there’s some incredible artistic masterpiece that has somehow escaped the haul he’s currently taking her to examine. No luck so far, and Taserface is pulling ahead of her, trying to impress her by droning on about some recent brawl he’s been in. She zones out of the conversation, only smiling placidly and nodding vacantly when he glances back at her.
They pass another corridor, this one even more abandoned, and enter yet another chamber. More goods are stacked all around, a disorganized horde of stolen treasures: casks of silverwine from Vanaheim, crates of shimmering pearls from Morag, pleasure-bots from Contraxia. At the far end, she sees what looks like the corner of a cage.
Her eyes narrow, and her head tilts.
That’s unusual.
Normally, bounties are housed in the caged cells lining the main corridors just off the belly of the ship - not hidden, and not mixed in with the loot. As they draw closer, Jolie can just make out a shadow shifting inside - something the size of a kid.
Her blood runs cold.
She’d heard Yondu and his crew had already been exiled from the loose coalition of Ravager clans due to trafficking children, but she’d thought they’d stopped doing that years ago, when Pete had come on board. Is that why this cage is hidden way out here?
They draw closer, and she catches a glimpse of fur moving behind the rusted bars. Out here in space, that doesn’t mean anything in particular: it could still be a child. Her stomach becomes a stone in her gut, and she knows she's not leaving this stupid fucking ship without knowing what's going on, and making sure everything is okay. She’s got enough units on her that she can probably afford one or two kids, maybe a few if she needs to - a bribe more than a purchase, she thinks, and a mean fucking talking-to for Yondu Udonta. But if he's making some kind of a habit out of this, she’s going to need a lot more resources than she currently has available to her.
And maybe he’s not. She's trying very hard not to jump to conclusions, because to be honest - despite his reputation - Yondu really doesn’t seem like the type to continue engaging in this shit. And she kind of likes him, like the grumpy old uncle she's never had.
Taserface keeps heading straight across the chamber to the other door, boasting and blathering, but Jolie’s drawn to the cage. Smoothly - never breaking stride - she veers to the left, and her tour guide doesn't even notice.
The metal box is about three feet tall, sitting on top of a knee-high crate scrawled with the words “sovereign porn” in Kree - lovely, Jolie thinks drily - and there’s definitely a lifeform inside. She leans in just a bit, and catches a flash of bright eyes and teeth and - she thinks that’s a ringed tail, and a mask.
That can’t be right.
Her eyes scan him again, and yeah: the caged creature looks almost like a raccoon from back home, but he’s standing upright on his hindlegs and…yep, he is most certainly wearing pants.
The lifeform rears back: teeth bared in a vicious, silent snarl, ears flat against his skull. In this position, she can see some kind of metal has been embedded in his chest. The fur around it - and in a few other places - has long since stopped growing due to scarring, and the flesh around the metal itself looks painfully inflamed. Her heart slams into her sternum and her stomach drops.
“Oh, love,” she breathes out, unthinking. “What did they do to you?”
The raccoon tilts his head to one side, eyes bright with biting intelligence, and she could swear he’s practically sneering. He opens his mouth and for all the world, she almost thinks he’s going to answer her.
Taserface interrupts any miraculous revelations with his too-loud, too-boastful voice, suddenly behind her, leaning too close. “T’was the High Evolutionary Hisself what cut the critter up and stitched it back together. Replaced some of its bones with new ones and made it walk like it’s tryin’ to be a man.”
She straightens and stares up at him, and the asshole chuckles, like it’s funny.
Jolie makes a noise in her throat before she can stop it. “Nope. Don’t like that.”
She turns back, still eyeballing the creature on the other side of the rusty bars. It’s shadowy in there, but she’d guess he’s maybe three-feet tall with change. And if he is a raccoon - and he sure does look like one - he’s probably already plotting his escape.
She gnaws on her lower lip. “And where are you all taking him now?”
Taserface looks at her like she’s an idiot. Maybe she is.
“Back t’ HalfWorld an’ the High Evolutionary, a’course.”
Her head snaps around to face him so quickly that something in her neck audibly cracks, sending a hot flare of pain up the back of her skull. She ignores it. “So they can torture him some more?”
Taserface shrugs and glowers and spits dismissively. “It'll be two hunnert-thousand units.”
Jolie sucks in a breath through her teeth. That’s more than…well, that’s more than a few children.
She looks at the rusted bars, and back to her brute of a tour guide, and sighs heavily. Slowly, she turns back to the cage, swaying toward the bars so she can peer in at eye-level. She’s immediately face-to-face with the creature. His ears are still pressed flat against his head, fur bristling, and he’s gazing back, clearly suspicious and probably - justifiably - feeling more than a little bit mean. She’s suddenly certain that if she got close enough, he’d take out her eyes.
There’s no helping herself, is there? Goddamn, she’s an idiot. One corner of her mouth twists up in exhausted resignation and she sighs.
“Welp,” she says solemnly to the raccoon with a polite nod, “fuck me, my dude.”
Swiftly, she stands back up, turning to Taserface and flattening her palms together in front of her with a soft clap. Her fingers lace together and she presses her knuckles to her lips in half a prayer. She’s not going to think about the consequences too much. Not till later, anyway. She’s going to move through these next moments in a flurry, a manufactured whirlwind: partly so she doesn’t second-guess herself, and partly to keep Taserface from applying too much critical thinking to anything she’s about to say.
She imagines that second part should be easy.
“It looks like it’s Udonta’s lucky day, because I happen to have two-hundred-and-thirty thousand units on hand, and I’ve always wanted a raccoon.”
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nrdmssgs · 1 year ago
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OC ask game
Second part of answers for this request. This is quite upsetting, sorry. There are serious triggers out there: mentions of real life events, mentions of mental struggles, mentions of unhealthy behavior.
#B What inspired you to create them?
Ok, this is the fourth time, i'm starting answering this question. Lets do it like that: I'll give a short safe answer and a long one, but with TW.
So, short answer: personal trauma and a few characters/situations from popular culture.
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Now to the long one. When I started this blog, I promised to myself to keep it politics free. So I'll really try to make it the first and the last time.
First and the foremost important: I know, I'm not a victim in this situation. There are people out there, whos lives are turned to hell on earth, who don't know if they see the next sunrise. So my whining about 'feeling bad about it' means nothing, and it's not a request for compassion or pity. I know, I must be nothing but happy and grateful for my calm and full life. I promise, Im working on it.
Four years ago I moved from my country to Germany. A year and a half ago my country invaded a neighboring country and started a heinous, bloody war. A number of war crimes committed by my country is multiplied daily. Never before I thought, I could cry every day, for multiple times, could stop eating, struggle to sleep. I never had depression, don't know, how real emotional problems feel. But the start of that war changed something in me, because in a few months I started committing to some unhealthy thoughts and patterns. I absolutely understood the reasoning behind possible hate towards anyone with the same citizenship as mine, I still do. I know we must feel bad, guilty not till the end of the war, but for the rest of our lives. And I swear, I do. But at some point my hate, I channeled towards myself, started to be destructing. I couldn't get professional help, as it is complicated to express your feelings in another language. I understood, that I struggle to do anything other than read news and cry. And it's actually a problem, when you are a grown adult, who is supposed to work on a thesis, do an internship, fight your cats cancer and find a job. So I clutched my teeth and just tried everything to just keep going. And one of the things was finding a hobby and reanimating this old tumblr blog.
I liked almost everything in CoD. Almost, because there was Nikolai. My problem with Nikolai was that we shared an origin, yet he wasn't a bad guy in the story. And by the time I started falling down CoD hole - I was already neck deep into self neglect because of my origin and everything, that happened. So it frustrated me, he wasn't depicted, and he wasn't feeling himself as a bad man. So when any discourse on tumblr came to him - I usually just went completely silent. That was until I found two blogs writing beautiful stories about him. My initial reaction was 'ok, those people are just super-nice and maybe they don't know about where he comes from'. But then I read one story. And all the comments. And another story. And, once again, all the comments.
I was startled. I sat before my screen and just cried. Because I saw people, looking far beyond this characters country of origin. And they loved him for who he is. By no means he was a perfect, no, but they LOVED him, they gave zero fucks, where he was born, they cared for what he was actually doing.
And at some point I thought, I have something to say about the guy, I have a story about self-acceptance, acceptance of others around you, and it means a world to me right now, because it hurts so much.
So I opened new file and started talking to myself in it. And I manifested all the pain I was dealing to myself into this poor thing, my Zhar. At first, I didn't even let her have a name or an appearance in my head, because I thought, she never deserved it. I wanted her to entertain me and others, speak to Nikolai about trust and fears. The main role in a Heart was always Niks, as it was him, who practically said her 'hey, I know, it hurts. I know, it's really bad. But I'm here to accept you, to show, you still can do something good. And I'm here to love you on this way and beyond it'. It was the hardest message to write, because i myself still struggle to 'sit before a mirror' and say it all to myself. But maybe, just maybe, its a step in a right direction.
The more I wrote, the more details Zhar got. By the third chapter I already knew, how her voice sounds, how she looks. I didn't add it in the story to not spoil it.
I took inspirations from many characters, I deeply love. There is a bit of struggle of Senua from Hellblade, there is a bit of my favorite scene with Cersei from GoT, there are little droplets of Claire Underwood being uncanny and friendly at the same time. All my favorite things. I also bring together a small playlist for Zhar that helps me a lot. But thats that - her and my story. I wish, I could tell, it's just a self-insert, but sadly it's not, at least not in a traditional way.
#F What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?
Well, now that I told her story, its only fair to admit - my heart is full of compassion for her. I wish I could hug her. I think, if I ever won her trust - we'd have quite a talk. I wish I could make it hurt not so bad, but I guess, its Nikolais work now. Hope, he doesn't give up on it.
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jaytoons7 · 2 years ago
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"What's going on?" When Slice proposed to Wilhelm, Please!
💍💖
It had been about a year since Terrence was overthrown by Reginald. The clan was still sort of picking up the pieces after what happened during those past few years. With all that in mind, It made Slice wonder...
...Was now really the right time to do this?
Now, Slice was never known to be the nervous type. He always leaped into any battle or raid with confidence, Machete in hand and a grin on his face.
But after the raid that killed many beloved Toppats like Caly and Crusher, Not helping that he completely snapped at Terrence and even threatened him afterwards, Slice took a more backseat role in the clan for his own sake. Although, If anybody asked, He would say it was because of the scar he got on his face that same day.
Slice had been through many hardships in his life that changed him, And that was honestly what he was worried about. He looked at the small box in his hand, What if he wasn't the same person that Wilhelm loved anymore? What if he says no?
Besides joining the clan itself, Wilhelm was one of the best things that had ever happened to Slice. Wilhelm had directly asked Slice to help him improve his English, Which they spent a lot of free time together doing.
Between that and doing heists together, The two began to get really close, Eventually falling in love.
Slice took a deep breath to ground himself. He wasn't gonna back out now! He hid the box behind his back and walked to the cafeteria.
Wilhelm was sitting in said cafeteria finishing his lunch. He saw Slice walking over and smiled. "Good afternoon, Meine Liebe. I hope your paperwork has not been too taxing today." "N-No, It hasn't." Slice tried to keep his cool. "I just got finished with a huge batch, I have the rest of the day off."
"Wunderbar! I was actually wondering..." Wilhelm started to blush. "If we could spend the rest of the day together..." Slice nodded, But his hands began to shake. "I-I'd love to! B-But... I wanna ask you something first. C-Could you stand up real quick though?"
Wilhelm gave Slice a curious look before standing up. "What would you like to ask me?"
Slice took a few shaky breaths. "W-Wilhelm, I know things have been a bit shaky in the clan recently. Terrence just got dethroned not long ago and we're all still adjusting to Reggie's leadership, So I don't know if this is the best time but..."
His face turned red from both nerves and blushing. "I-I love you so much. You've made me so happy in spite of everything that's happened. Th-That's why I wanted to know."
Wilhelm looked down in surprise when he saw Slice going down on one knee. "What is... Going on..?" Slice pulled out the box and opened it, Revealing a ring with a gold band and a red sunstone in the center.
"Wilhelm Krieghaus, Will you marry me?"
Wilhelm stood in stunned silence for a second before tears began falling down his face. "Ja..! Ja, Schatz! Of course I will!"
Tears began falling down Slice's face as well before he got up and hugged Wilhelm. "Thank you! Thank you! You've made me the happiest Toppat alive!"
The two hugged for a minute before separating. Slice then gently slid the ring onto Wilhelm's finger. "You have chosen a very beautiful ring." He hummed.
"Thank you." Slice wiped a few remaining tears from his face. "Right helped me pick which one to steal. The gem's a sunstone. I chose that because well, You've been the light of my life. Like the sunrise at the end of a cold harsh night. That's probably really cheesy..." He nervously laughed.
"It is perfect." Wilhelm leaned forward and pulled Slice into a kiss. They would both finally be united as one.
(I changed the quote a bit to match Wilhelm's speech pattern)
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aebi12 · 2 years ago
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"Sinful Desires" - Chapter 15
Alyssa is still hugging Aemond's body when she wakes up, although not because of her nightmares, and the sun's rays are just beginning to rise on the horizon. Actually, she thinks as she buries her nose between the prince's head and shoulder, it's the first time in weeks that she's managed to sleep without dreaming and wake up without feeling that she's more tired than she was before. Alyssa smiles at the thought and breathes in Aemond's familiar scent.
"Good morning" he says hoarsely.
She pulls her head out of his neck and looks at him with an apology in her eyes, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."
 "I'm used to waking up early" he replies, taking the hand that Alyssa has on his chest and bringing it to his lips to deposit a soft kiss, "My training sessions with Cole are always before sunrise"
“I didn't know that one of the best warriors in the realm still needed training sessions with his old childhood tutor,” she jokes, raising her eyebrows.
Aemond laughs, and Alyssa thinks it's the first time she's heard him laugh since they were reunited. The sound warms her heart, and she brings her hand to his face, stroking his cheek with her thumb.
"I must continue preparing for war"
“Surely you won't need to fight with a sword when you have Vhagar,” she says with a frown. The thought of Aemond fighting against numerous soldiers makes her heart pound eagerly in her chest.
"You never know," he shrugs her off, "I have to be ready for any possible scenario."
Alyssa nods. The topic of war is inevitable. Sooner or later it was going to come up and they are going to have to learn to deal with it. The princess is willing to marry Aemond, to fight for the future they can have together, but...
"What is it?" he asks, noticing that his fiancée seems lost in thought
"We need to talk," Alyssa says after a few seconds of silence.
“Hmmm.” From her expression, Aemond knows that this is a serious matter. He guesses what it is, so he waits for her to continue talking.
"I cannot support Aegon's rule and turn my back on my mother"
"I don't get it Alyssa, I just don't get you" his expression hardens, "Your mother doesn't deserve your loyalty, she called you a traitor in her letter"
"But I'm sure she doesn't think that, not really" she shakes her head, "Mother is angry, disappointed with how she thinks things turned out, she didn't…"
"She was going to send you to the North to win swords for her cause"
“Don't use that against her. Your mother was going to do the same to you when she promised you to the Baratheon sisters."
"Is different"
"No, it's not" she points out and adds "Aemond, the last thing I want is to fight you."
"Then let's not fight. From my point of view, it's very simple."
"Nothing in this situation is simple," Alyssa lets go of his embrace and sits on the bed, "I know it seems simple to you, but at the end of the day, it's my brothers you'll fight when the war breaks out."
Her voice breaks. Aemond sighs and sits up on the bed as well.
“So, you don't want to marry me anymore? Is that what you're going to tell me?" he asks after seconds of awkward silence
She glares at him, patience beginning to leave her body, “Don't take me for a capricious or fickle girl, I'm going to marry you, Aemond. I decided to marry you and I will do that"
"Because you love me" his statement sounds more like a question
"Of course, I love you" she looks at him, exasperated, "Wasn't I clear enough when I told you that right here a few hours ago?"
"Then why are we still arguing about this?"
“Because I love my mother and brothers too,” she hisses, “I'm sorry if my affection for them offends you or if you think I should erase them from my mind because of the letter my mother wrote, I can't. They are my family"
Aemond clearly holds back on his response because his jaw clenches and his hands ball into fists, “They don't deserve you, Alyssa. My half-sister especially, doesn't deserve you to continue to hold her in such high regard."
"My mother is impulsive and gets carried away by anger, like someone I know" she replies, staring at him, a hint of a smile on her lips.
"Hmmm"
“I know that she loves me,” Alyssa continues, “and I know that what she wrote is actually what my stepfather was whispering in her ear. Daemon doesn't like me"
He seems shocked at the princess's words, "Why do you say that?"
Alyssa shifts uncomfortably on the bed, “When my mother found out what happened between us, she insisted in marry me off as soon as possible. She thought no noble lord was going to want me if it became public knowledge that I was no longer a maiden, she thought you would use that information against me,” she places a finger to his lips to silence him when he seems to want to interrupt her, “I know you wouldn't. That possibility never crossed my mind. But my mother thought it was necessary for me to find a suitable husband so she gave me options."
"Options?" there is contained anger in his question
“I would never have chosen the North and my mother didn't want to send me that far either,” she says, “I'm sure it was Daemon who convinced her otherwise. He questioned my loyalty to my mother when she found out about my affection for you, he kept an eye on me and who got the information about our night together. And I think that…"
"What?" he asks, holding her hand, urging her on when she can't bring herself to voice her suspicion out loud.
"I think he would rather put his own son on the throne than concede power to Jace."
Aemond frowns. Alyssa's doubt doesn't seem unfounded considering all he knows about his infamous uncle.
"Daemon has spies in the Red Keep," he says, going back over everything she had told him.
“Yes, he still has many informants in the city. Surely that was how they found out about our engagement”
They are both silent for a few seconds, Alyssa giving him time to absorb what she just told him before continuing.
“This war has to end before there is more bloodshed between our families,” she says, her voice almost pleading, “and I need you to promise me that you won't hurt my brothers if you ever go against them.”
Aemond frowns and looks down, "Alyssa I can't promise you that."
“Yes, yes you can” she takes her hands desperately, “I couldn't bear to lose other brother, not by your doing”
"But this is war" he turns to face her, "Things get out of control and anyone can end up hurt"
“Please, Aemond” she takes his face in her hands and moves closer to him, their knees bumping, “I need your word. I need to know that you won't hurt them, I need to know that I can count on you to end this war."
“End the war?” he gives her a sad smile
"I know I can make my mother see reason, I just need time"
“Do you want me to help you communicate with your mother?” the smile fades from his face and the familiar mask of coldness settles in his eyes
"I want what’s best for the realm and for our family"
“Do you think your mother is what is best for the realm?” he moves abruptly, cutting off contact between them, “My half-sister doesn't know anything about ruling, for years she has been separated from the political affairs of the crown. It is my mother and grandfather who have kept the peace, who have ruled these past few years and have brought prosperity to the realm."
“I won't deny that,” Alyssa nods, trying to calm him down, “But now your brother is king, tell me Aemond, how long will it be until he wants to do his bidding and makes the wrong decisions? Aegon is not fit to rule, he never took his duty seriously, he is a…”
"I know my brother well" he cuts her off.
"Do you think he is a good king?"
"No matter what I think, it is Aegon's birthright to rule because he is the firstborn son."
Alyssa smirks, "But my grandfather was the one who designated my mother as his heir, not your brother."
Aemond scowls, “Yes, my father only had eyes for my half-sister. His love for her led him to set aside the laws of the kingdom without even caring what happened to us."
His bitter tone causes the princess's heart to ache. She knows well that Aemond still bears the wounds that Viserys' indifference caused him.
“I know my grandfather wasn't fair to you,” she admits, “But all in all, he meant well. He wanted the house of the dragon to be united again”
“A little late for that”
"No, it's not, I don't think so," Alyssa sighs, "Aemond, if I could talk to my mother I'm sure I could get her to listen, to understand that what happened with Luke was an accident."
“For what purpose would you tell her that? So that I can kneel before my half-sister and accept her as queen?" He doesn't give her a choice to reply, "I won't do that Alyssa, don't ask me to do that."
"I know you would never betray your mother and siblings" the princess replies, shaking her head, "I couldn't ask you for that."
"Not to mention that Rhaenyra would surely allow her dragon to eat me before giving up on the revenge that she surely already plots against me"
Alyssa wants to deny his words, but she knows that Aemond is probably right, so she allows a few seconds to pass before speaking further.
“Jace can help me. I know I can convince my brother to join my cause."
"Which is what exactly?"
"To truly unite our families, with Jace on the throne and you by his side, as his hand," she looks anxiously at his face, waiting for his reaction, "You would have real political power and you and my brother would be good for the kingdom, I'm sure of it. You have studied your whole life, you have prepared yourself to serve the realm and be a good prince. Besides…"
"What?" he asks, intrigued
“Eventually, Jace's firstborn son would marry our daughter, so our families would be united and both sides would continue to rule together. Our daughter would be the queen of the seven kingdoms."
"What about my brother?"
"I think Aegon would rather have his freedom than a crown he never wanted."
Aemond frowns, his mind flashing back to Aegon's almost desperate plea when he found him, still drunk, after their father had died. The desire of him to take a ship to the free cities and be freed from the burden that he considers the crown.
“We could have true peace,” Alyssa continues, “And a safe place where Helaena and her children can live in harmony with my brothers.”
"Your mother will not want to give up what she considers her birthright"
“My mother loves her children. War endangers us all, surely, she would choose a peaceful option. I know she would trust me to protect my little brothers."
Aemond seems to consider her words, she waits for him to speak again, but she takes his hand, stroking his palm with her thumb.
“It's the best scenario for the kingdom,” says Alyssa, “The people deserve rulers who choose peace. House Targaryen must be led by leaders who put aside their differences, that's something neither your mother nor mine can do. Neither can your grandfather or my stepfather."
"And Jace and I can do that?" he still seems to doubt
“I have faith that you two can build something better” Alyssa takes his hands and places a kiss on them, “I know it's asking a lot, but think about my proposal, okay? All I want is to have my family back. All my family, together"
If she is delusional or too optimistic, Alyssa doesn't know and he doesn't tell her, the prince just nods and joins their lips in a short kiss.
***
Maelor is a very calm baby.
Or that's the impression Alyssa gets after spending the last few hours taking care of him while Helaena plays with the twins, who claim her attention after meeting their little brother.
"He's so sweet," she whispers as she cradles him in her arms.
"Hold his head more carefully, babies are very delicate at this age" says Queen Alicent before approaching her and accommodating the baby in a position that she considers appropriate. Helaena looks at her with an apology in her eyes and Alyssa reassures her with a smile.
“I'll be more careful from now on,” Alyssa replies in a conciliatory tone, saving her scathing retort in which she points out to the Queen Mother that she knows exactly how to hold a newborn considering she has two younger brothers, “Thank you, Queen Alicent”
The three women are in the children's room. The twins playing with their dragonflies and wooden bees in the floor with Helaena, who looks fully recovered just a couple of days after giving birth
"He is not as demanding as the twins" says her aunt, "He never wakes up at night"
"I still think you should let the wet nurse help you," Alicent sighs, "You haven't even completed your rest properly."
"I feel fine" Helaena replies with a smile and then looks at Alyssa, "We should start planning your wedding."
“Well, Aemond and I haven't talked about it yet,” the princess replies sincerely, “I don't know what he has in mind for the ceremony or…”
“A simple, traditional ceremony in the sept,” Alicent cuts her off, “Nothing too extravagant, we can't afford an expensive wedding under the current circumstances. The kingdom has other priorities."
"But it's Aemond's wedding." Helaena looks at her mother with her big blue eyes full of disagreement.
"I agree with your mother" Alyssa interjects, "It is better if just us, family, celebrate together. That way it will be more meaningful for Aemond and me"
Queen Alicent nods and then approaches one of her maids, saying something to her in private. Maelor starts to cry and Helaena rushes to her son, "He's hungry," she tells Alyssa, who places him in her mother's arms once she has sat down in the sofa, ready to feed the baby, "I'm sorry that my mother interferes in your wedding"
"I'm sure she'll have a lot of opinions about the ceremony from now on," Alyssa smiles, "But honestly, she's right about us having a small party."
Helaena caresses her baby's face, removing the traces of sweat before looking at the princess, “It will still be an opportunity to celebrate. And dance"
"You like to dance right?" she remembers the time she saw her aunt dance with her brother, how happy she seemed.
“Very much, yeah” Helaena says, “Aegon dances with me from time to time. When he's in a good mood”
"Really?" Alyssa can't imagine the scenario
Helaena nods, “We practiced together many times when we were kids. Aemond too. He is a good dancer, my little brother”
A mental image of Aemond dancing settles in her mind, and Alyssa smiles. The truth is that she hasn't really thought about everything that a wedding involves, so the idea of dancing with her future husband surprises and encourages her at the same time. Another happy thing to look forward to in the near future.
Have you thought about the dress? What color will you wear?
“I have an idea,” Alyssa lies.
“I will ask the royal dressmaker to come to your room so that you can choose the colors and best fabrics. It will be my wedding gift to you."
"Thank you, Helaena," she replies, happiness bubbling in her chest at the thought of imagining her wedding dress.
Queen Alicent returns at that moment and approaches the two young women. A steaming drink is in her hand and she extends it to Alyssa, "Drink up, princess."
"Tea?" asks Helaena, puzzled.
“Moon tea” Alyssa whispers, recognizing the beverage.
The queen's gaze meets the princess's, "We both know you need it, considering you spend most nights in my son's chambers."
"Mother!" Helena sighs. Alyssa blushes, but she finishes the drink, handing the empty container to the queen, "That was totally unnecessary."
"They're not married yet," the queen replies, fidgeting nervously with her rings.
"But they will be soon," Helaena says.
“Still, it's better to be safe than…” she trails off, “Helaena, why don't you call a wet nurse?”
The young queen does not respond to her mother, only pulls her son into her lap.
“Thank you, Queen Alicent,” Alyssa says, “Aemond and I are in no hurry to have children yet. For now, the best thing will be to enjoy these little ones” she points to her little nephews
Alicent doesn't answer, just stares at her. Helaena then stands up and places Maelor cradling him on her shoulder. Alyssa realizes that the baby has fallen asleep.
"I'd better go," she says softly, "I'll be back tomorrow."
Helaena nods before beginning to hum a song. Alyssa gives the twins a couple of kisses and leaves the room with Alicent.
"I thought we had a deal, princess," the queen says once they are out of Helaena's ears.
"What do you mean?"
"You said you would not marry my son"
"I'm sorry, but I never gave you my word on that matter." Alyssa stops and so does the queen, both looking at each other.
"You seemed pretty determined not to."
Alyssa sighs, "I love Aemond, Queen Alicent."
The woman smiles, although joy does not reach her eyes, "You don't even know my son"
“I know him better than you think,” the princess replies, “isn't that enough for you?” Her eyes clearly tell her the answer is no. Alyssa sighs once more, "If you'll excuse me, your son is waiting for me."
She doesn't wait for Alicent to reply and continues to stride in the direction of her room.
***
"I'm sick of us doing nothing"
Aemond realizes that his brother's patience has reached its limit. The other members of the council seem to have noticed the same thing because they alternate their apprehensive glances between the king and Otto.
“We are making alliances that…”
"Letters!" Aegon interrupts, “All you do is write letters and talk about alliances when my half-sister makes real moves for war. The Velaryon fleet is still in control of the Blackwater, we haven't received any ships for weeks and you do nothing about it."
There is resentment in his brother's voice. Aemond watches the suppressed anger with which Aegon addresses his grandfather, anger that he has been accumulating for years and that now that he is king he is able to bring out. Yes, the prince thinks, his brother is clearly enjoying being able to humiliate his grandfather as the man had done so many times with Aegon during his teenage years.
But there is something else. Aegon is increasingly present in council meetings, in the evolution of the war, in the economic affairs of the kingdom... his brother seems to be liking the power he holds. He's not going to give up being king easily, Aemond now understands as his mind drifts back to his quarrel with Alyssa a few days ago. The prince has been considering her words, internally debating whether or not to agree to what he sees as a crazy and desperate attempt to settle deeply rooted conflicts between the two sides. He doesn't have an answer yet so he hasn't brought the topic up again. His fiancée has not spoken about it again either. So, as is the norm for both of them, they have spent these last few days living in a happy bubble.
"The Triarchy is our best option to fight the Velaryon fleet" Otto replies without flinching, "Our alliance is almost guaranteed, it's a matter of waiting a little longer"
"I'm tired of waiting," Aegon spits, getting to his feet and pounding the table, "I am being perceived as a coward before my sister, who gathers her men from different parts of the kingdom."
"Your grace…"
Aegon interrupts him again, walking up to him and removing the Hand's badge, “We are at war. I need a warrior to fight my half-sister, not some worthless old man."
Aemond shifts in his seat uneasily, waiting for Otto's reaction. But this never comes. Aegon instead goes to Ser Criston Cole and places the hand badge on his chest.
"Ser Criston Cole, you are now the hand of the king and in charge of military strategy," Aegon says, "where do we begin?"
Aemond stops listening to Cole, who begins moving figures around the map, explaining to his brother the scattered location of Rhaenyra's allies. His mother will not be happy with the change of Hand, she will probably feel very affected that her father has lost the position again. Aemond must convince his brother not to send him to Oldtown. Alicent needs Otto's support in the capital, her mother is too stressed and tense enough to be separated from her parent. The prince wonders if the queen will try to change Aegon's mind. He doubts that she can do it. His brother's recent display of power has clearly fueled his pride, surely Aegon will not falter at Alicent's request.
"The crownlands are unprotected at the moment," says Cole, "I propose to attack Duskendale."
"House Darklyn," Tyland Lannister nods, "One of his sons is a member of Rhaenyra's queens guard."
"Indeed, my lord" continues Cole, "That way her supporters will know they won't go unpunished for their betrayal."
"An exemplary punishment" says Aegon
“Once we take Duskendale, which won't be difficult,” Cole moves the pieces on the board, “we'll continue on to Rook's Rest. Surely by then they will have already requested help from the princess, who will have to send a dragon rider."
“Do you think she will go herself?” asks Jasper Wylde
“Prince Jacaerys has yet to return from the North,” Lord Larys Strong replies, “And Prince Daemon marches into the riverlands with most of the army they have so far. No communication will easily reach him.”
"Then my half-sister will surely go to the aid of Lord Staunton" a smile appears on the face of the young King
"I propose to march with the scorpions and well-trained archers," says Cole, "The Dornishmen could take down a dragon before, we can do it now too."
"Maybe," Aegon tilts his head, "But this is my war, so I'll go with you too."
“As you command, Your grace,” Cole agrees, “but it would be better if your presence is not known to anyone else, not even the men of our army. Surprise is the best element in war and that way we can ambush Princess Rhaenyra, who will expect an easy win to a small army”
“Very well, get everything ready then, we leave at dawn.” Aegon stands up and walks over to Aemond, “Get ready too, brother. You come with me to battle."
***
Alyssa runs her hand over the gorgeous deep red lace on her bed.
As Helaena promised, the royal dressmaker has brought the best fabrics in the kingdom so that she can choose the one she likes best for her wedding.
The princess looks indecisively between the Velaryon and Targaryen colored silks, not knowing which one to choose for herself. She is clear, however, that she will not use the dark green that the woman recommended without much pretense, surely at the behest of Alicent.
“They are all very beautiful,” she says, examining a gold lace that would look perfect on black silk.
“Whatever you choose,” says the woman, “it will look good on you, princess. Although I think that green silk would help a lot to highlight your eyes”
Alyssa suppresses a smile and is saved from retorting because Aemond enters the room at that moment.
"I'll let you know my decision," she says, "You can leave now."
The woman curtsies to Aemond and herself and calls for a maid to help collect her many silks and laces.
"I'm sorry if I interrupted your afternoon" says the prince when they are alone, "I didn't mean to"
"No problem" she shrugs and goes to him, who has sat down in the antechamber, "Is everything alright?" she asks, noticing that Aemond seems dejected.
"I'll have to leave the city for a few days"
"Oh" she wets her lips and feels her heart pounding hard in her chest, "Is it because of the war?"
Aemond nods and begins to tell her everything that happened at the council meeting and his brother's decision to fight.
"So, they think a dragon rider will come to the aid of Lord Darklyn or Lord Staunton?"
"Surely your mother will want to quickly appease our forces, yes"
Alyssa nods, her anxiety eating away her mind and the air starting to run out of her body. Aemond goes to battle, hers Aemond will have to fight on the back of his dragon... against whom? Uncertainty terrifies her, her hand goes instinctively to her wrist to sink her fingernails into her flesh. He seems to notice because he stops her action and meets her gaze.
"It's going to be okay"
"No, it won't," Alyssa replies, shaking her head, "if Jace and Vermax go…"
"Your brother has not returned from the North yet"
"Then my mother" she whispers, terrified.
Aemond sees the fear in her green eyes, her uneasy breathing, and her trembling hands. He can't tell her the truth. He does not dare to confess that she is right, that it is Rhaenyra who they seek to liquidate with the surprise attack.
"Most likely it will be Daemon" he says, "Your stepfather has battle experience"
"Daemon?" Alyssa looks at him, still scared, "But it's dangerous, very dangerous for you and Aegon to fight him."
“Vhagar is the biggest dragon in the world,” he replies with more confidence than he feels, wanting to reassure Alyssa, “And my brother and Sunfyre are practically one when they fly. Caraxes will not be able to defeat us” Aemond takes Alyssa's face in his hands, staring at her, “Everything will be fine. Now breathe, my love, breathe and trust me”
Alyssa does as he asks and tries to calm her breathing. It takes her a few long seconds but her heart finally settles, and she places her hands on top of Aemond's, who are still cradling her face, "I trust you."
Aemond kisses her gently and then hugs her. Alyssa snuggles into his chest and they remain silent, he playing with her curls and she listening to his heartbeat to stay calm.
"When will you leave?" she asks after long minutes
"At dawn"
"Promise you'll come back to me" she raises her head to look at him.
“I will come back to you. Always” he takes her hand and kisses it, “Never doubt my love for you, Alyssa”
His words sound like a farewell, but she prefers not to think about it and returns to the shelter of his arms.
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raviliuz · 2 years ago
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Okay, that's extremely random but I won't make another blog for one Rovinsky brain rot so here we go
AU where Kavinsky didn't kill himself and was still there when Ronan and Adam started dating
*Content warning: cheating, fighting, drugs, toxic relationships, physical violence mentioned, smut mentioned*
***
Ronan knows he shouldn't do this. He knows it won't help, more, it will for sure make everything worse. It's still not stopping him and he absolutely hates it about himself.
Another fight with Adam and the same old shit. Ronan truly loves Adam and that's the problem. They're fighting, as every couple does, and he's getting too mad but doesn't want to take it out on Adam. He cares too much to scream at him, to risk blowing up and hitting him. So he runs away.
Ronan knows it will hurt Adam hundred times more than his fist ever would.
But he cannot do any better.
Farm in 20?
He texts the number he blocked many times and unblocked after at most a few days when he needed something.
Sure princess
seen
Trouble in paradise?
delivered
Ronan arrives at the farm first. Of course he does, it will be a miracle if the other boy won't be late. He cannot sit still so he leaves his car and starts walking in circles. Ronan hears the aggressive sound of Mitsubishi Evo but doesn't care enough to stop walking and greet.
"Catching up on weekly step rate, princess?" Kavinsky says instead of hello.
Ronan knows he wants to hit that guy, wipe that confident smirk off of his face. He's just unsure whether he should do that with his fists or lips.
"Fuck off" he grunts.
He's answered with a mean, half-fake laugh.
"You texted me, at midnight to see you. Could have been doing coke with Proko now, so spill, what did your lovely little Adam Parrish do this time?".
The worst thing is, Ronan can't even deny so he decides to focus on the question and grabs Kavinsky's shirt's collar and tugs him closer harshly.
"Keep his name out of your dirty mouth, K".
Kavinsky is sure Ronan's about to punch him but he won't flinch, it's not like he cares about bruising his jaw.
Instead, Ronan pulls him even closer and after another second he zeroes the distance between them, kissing Kavinsky.
The kiss is rough and mean, they bite and their teeth clash while they are fighting for dominance.
"Aww, you're getting softer, Lynch" Kavinsky coos, genuinely surprised. Usually kissing comes after at least some punching.
"I'm getting my mouth dirty" Ronan whispers, more to himself than to Kavinsky.
The other boy doesn't say anything to that, just holds up his hand with two yellow pills. Ronan doesn't thank him, never will, but swallow pills without second thoughts.
***
They are sitting on the roof of a half-destroyed Mitsubishi Evo, watching the sunrise. Both boys have a few hickeys more than five hours ago.
Ronan hates those marks. They make it so much more real. He couldn't lie to himself that it didn't happen, having evidence on his neck and stomach. Kavinsky enjoys marking toys as his and Ronan hasn't even argued.
"You know what's the worst?" Ronan's whisper sounds like a scream in the silence of the farm. Kavinsky is high enough for existential crisis "I know I will hate myself when I sober up. I know that. And I know he" Ronan doesn't dare to say Adam's name "will know what I did. He will be hurt but won't hate me. He won't leave me even though I'm living garbage that just makes his life messy."
Ronan stops and takes a joint from Kavinsky's mouth to take another hit.
"I know all of it. And I'm still here."
Kavinsky just lets him ramble, it's not the first time they have had that conversation. Kavinsky knows it's a really dark shade of morally grey but he's not the one to give a crap about Parrish's feelings. It's entertaining. Ronan is entertaining.
"It's just so much easier to be with you" Ronan continues, face covered in white smoke "It's easy because I don't give a shit about you, man. We can scream, we can make out, we can throw punches. And I'm not feeling guilty that I hurt you, that's an advantage even" he blows a few smoke circles in Kavinsky's face "I hate your gut, man. But I'm used to being around people I hate, hating myself. I always come back, hating myself more every time."
He always comes back.
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keisgirl · 1 month ago
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stuck in your orbit; kozume kenma
pairing; classmate!kenma x reader
wc; 1.5k ish
1 those eyes/ 2 all because i liked a boy/ 3 / 4 fool for you
sorry 😼 anon!! i didn’t really finish with your prompt but ILY FOR GIVING THAT PROMPT!!
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you’d never thought you’d stop caring about where kenma kozume was during the school day. a few months ago, it was like your every move was calculated—strolling by his usual hangouts, lingering outside class to catch a glimpse of him, or even timing your lunch break just right. it was always intentional, always for him.
but now? now you were just walking with your friends, minding your own business, yet somehow he was everywhere.
the holidays had changed you. it wasn’t some dramatic, movie-worthy transformation—no dramatic "cutting your hair in the mirror" moment. no, it was quieter, slower. your cousin dragged you to the gym at sunrise, your best friend convinced you to try on new clothes that somehow made you feel like you were walking a little taller, and somewhere in the middle of it all, you stopped thinking about everyone else.
including kenma.
well, you tried.
maybe it was easier to forget him in the haze of late-night calls with your friends or early mornings baking with your mom. maybe it was because for the first time in a long time, you weren’t trying so hard to impress anyone. your love, your time, your energy—it was yours. just yours. and when school started again, you felt lighter, freer, even if the familiar halls threatened to pull you back into old habits.
you saw him again at lunch.
it wasn’t supposed to matter anymore. you’d told yourself over and over—he didn’t like you like that, you’d accepted it, moved on. but when you saw him under that tree, headphones around his neck, scrolling on his phone while his friends sprawled out beside him, your heart didn’t get the memo.
it was instinct to glance his way, but this time, he glanced back. his hazel eyes—warm, golden, and distracting as ever—locked onto yours, and for a second, you forgot how to walk.
“wait, is kenma staring at you?” one of your friends asked, nudging your side.
“no,” you lied, but the way your heart pounded said otherwise. you turned away quickly, acting as if you hadn’t noticed the way his gaze lingered even as you passed.
the next few days blurred into a strange, confusing routine. kenma was suddenly everywhere.
not because you were trying to see him—no, this was different. you’d be heading to your locker, and there he’d be, leaning against the wall with one of his friends. you’d walk into the library, and he’d already be there, headphones on, typing away on his laptop. even walking to class felt like some strange game of fate, where you’d glance up and find him watching you from across the hall.
“is it just me, or is kenma always around lately?” your friend teased, nudging you as you grabbed your books.
“it’s just a coincidence,” you replied quickly, brushing it off. “he probably doesn’t even notice me.”
but he did. you weren’t imagining the way his gaze lingered, the way he seemed to turn up wherever you were.
it happened after class one day.
you were gathering your things, chatting idly with your friend, when someone tapped your shoulder.
“you dropped this,” kenma said, holding out a pen you didn’t even realize you’d dropped.
“oh, thanks,” you replied, surprised. your fingers brushed his as you took it, and you swore he hesitated just a little longer than necessary before pulling away.
“i like your hair, by the way,” he said, so casually it took a moment for the words to sink in.
“what?”
“your hair,” he repeated, glancing at you briefly before looking away. “it suits you.”
“oh—uh, thanks.” your heart raced, caught between disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.
the next day, he said something else. this time, it was about your uniform.
“that color looks nice on you,” he commented when you passed him in the hall.
you blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. “what?”
“your uniform,” he said, his tone as nonchalant as ever, though there was a faint warmth in his gaze. “i like it.”
you laughed nervously. “well, good, because i don’t have a choice.”
he smiled—an actual, genuine smile—and for a moment, it felt like the world had shifted.
despite the compliments, you couldn’t quite shake your confusion. why now? why, after months of silence, was kenma suddenly noticing you? you tried not to think about it too much, but the questions lingered in the back of your mind.
it all came to a head one afternoon when you ran into him on your way to the library.
“you’re here a lot lately,” he said, falling into step beside you.
“what do you mean?”
“i mean, i keep seeing you everywhere,” he replied, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.
you laughed lightly, shaking your head. “funny, i was about to say the same thing about you.”
he shrugged, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “maybe we’re just walking in the same circles now.”
“maybe,” you said, though the way his gaze lingered on you suggested there was more to it than that.
as the weeks went on, kenma’s quiet attention became a constant in your life.
he didn’t talk much—he was still kenma, after all—but when he did, his words carried weight. a soft compliment here, a fleeting glance there. it wasn’t much, but it was enough to make your heart race, enough to make you wonder if maybe, just maybe, things were changing between you.
and yet, the doubts lingered. after all, you’d heard it from his own friends—he didn’t like you like that. he’d said so himself.
but then there were moments, fleeting and fragile, that made you question everything.
like the way he’d hold the door open for you without a word, or the way he’d glance your way during class when he thought you weren’t looking. like the way he said your name, soft and careful, as if it meant something to him.
“hey,” he said one afternoon, stopping you in the hall. “you, uh, free this weekend?”
“why?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the way your heart raced.
“just thought... maybe we could hang out or something,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden invitation. “oh—yeah, sure. that sounds fun.”
he nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “cool. i’ll text you.”
and just like that, the walls you’d built around your heart started to crumble.
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