#strangely i only feel this way about book fandoms

[lailyn]

The thought of Callum Nova suffering everytime he uses his powers, and knowing that he keeps it to himself because he doesn't think anyone will care or that he doesn't deserve to be cared for breaks my heart...of course, being the whump writer that I am, I have a bajillion hurt/comfort Novacaine fic ideas, but am terrified of writing them because there is no way I can ever emulate Olivie Blake's beautiful, uber-deep, thought-provoking prose. It's devastating.

[fangdokja]

Some truths are better left buried.

❤︎ Synopsis. A charming façade hides a mind unraveling, as jealousy sinks its claws into a man obsessed with the untouchable "Ice Queen," her mysterious past igniting a sinister need to claim what was never his to own.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Ex-Boyfriend x Fem. Reader

♡ Novella. Friction & Fire - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 8,000

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, general non-con + manipulation, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances

♡ A/N. Not me only realizing recently that this was a FINISHED work that I never posted. My drafts in Tumblr are a mess I tell you. It's like the various requests, fandoms, and works in general are mixing wahaha. YOU KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE???? It's like I'm universe hopping in the multiverse, going to different fandoms and worlds to bring the content you all want. And, just like someone with multiple jobs and side hustles; if it's not recorded or arranged right, it gets lost to the void I tell you. wahhhhh

The office was silent except for the rhythmic tapping of your keyboard and the faint hum of the air conditioning. The morning sun bled through the blinds in fractured slivers, painting your desk in a dull, sterile glow. You sat across from him, your shoulders squared, your focus unyielding as you combed through line after line of data.

And yet, despite the quiet, he could feel the tension lingering between you like a living thing.

It was still on his mind.

He wasn’t the type to fixate—hell, he prided himself on letting things roll off his back—but this? The thought of your first kiss, of the strange, detached way you spoke about it last night, had lodged itself in his brain like a splinter.

He leaned back in his chair, one leg lazily draped over the other as he watched you with sharp, predatory focus. On the surface, he looked relaxed, his usual cocky nonchalance on full display. But beneath it, his mind was a storm.

“You know,” he began, his voice cutting through the stillness like a knife, “last night got me thinking.”

You didn’t respond, didn’t even look up. Your fingers danced across the keys, swift and precise, as though you hadn’t heard him at all.

He smiled, leaning forward just enough to rest his elbows on the table. “For someone who’s so good at everything, you sure don’t like talking about yourself, do you?”

Still, you gave him nothing. Not a word. Not a glance.

He didn’t let it deter him. If anything, your silence only spurred him on.

“So, first kiss,” he said, his tone as light as a feather, casual enough to sound innocent. “When was it? And don’t give me that ‘transaction’ excuse. I want details.”

Your fingers paused for half a second—so brief it was barely noticeable—but it was enough to make his grin widen.

“I’m working,” you said flatly, your voice like steel.

“And I’m curious,” he shot back smoothly, his grin taking on a sharper edge. “Come on, indulge me a little. Was it some rich heir your parents set you up with? Or…” He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Was it someone you actually liked?”

You exhaled slowly, your gaze still fixed on your screen. “Drop it.”

“Oh, I would,” he said, his voice dropping into a softer, more insidious tone. “But it’s kind of hard to stop wondering when you’re so damn mysterious about everything. I mean, it’s not like I’m asking for state secrets here. Just a name. Or a story. Something.”

Your fingers hit the keys a little harder now, your movements growing sharper, but you still refused to look at him.

He leaned back again, tapping his pen idly against the table, his expression deceptively calm. “Okay, fine. Let’s broaden the topic. Ever had any other boyfriends? Or am I the only one lucky enough to deal with your charming personality?”

The sarcasm in his tone was sharp, but it wasn’t enough to mask the strange, simmering edge beneath it.

“Work,” you said simply, not bothering to look at him.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about!” He leaned forward again, his voice growing louder, though his grin remained firmly in place. “You’re like a damn iron wall. It’s impressive, really. But also kind of annoying.”

You finally paused, your hands hovering above the keyboard as you turned to meet his gaze. Your expression was calm, cold, and utterly unreadable. “If I don’t answer,” you said, your voice low and measured, “will you stop asking?”

“Not a chance,” he said, his grin widening into something wolfish.

You sighed, turning back to your screen. “Then keep asking. It won’t change anything.”

He let out a soft laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was something else there now, something darker and more insistent, coiling tightly in his chest.

He didn’t know why this mattered so much. Why the thought of someone else—someone before him—made his jaw clench and his stomach churn. But the idea wouldn’t let him go.

“Fair enough,” he said finally, his voice dropping into a softer, almost dangerous tone. “But don’t think I’m letting this go. Sooner or later, princess, I’ll get you to crack.”

Your silence was answer enough. But the faint flicker of annoyance in your eyes as you typed? That was all the encouragement he needed.

———

The late afternoon sun filtered through the office windows, casting long, golden streaks across the sterile desks. Papers and coffee cups littered the space, evidence of a day stretched too long. You sat at your desk, immersed in another report, your brow furrowed in concentration. The tension that had gripped you for days had finally loosened, and though your posture remained rigid, there was an air of calm about you now.

It was a calm he intended to disrupt.

He stretched lazily from his chair, a satisfied smirk curling his lips as he sauntered over to your side. His steps were slow, deliberate, the kind of gait that was both casual and predatory. Leaning down just slightly, he peered over your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck.

"Still working, huh? You're really setting a new standard for the term 'workaholic.' Should I be worried you're cheating on me with a spreadsheet?" His voice was light, teasing, but there was a flicker of something sharper beneath it.

You didn’t even glance his way. "Your jokes are terrible."

"Terrible? Wow, you wound me," he said, clutching at his chest as if your words had pierced his heart. But his grin didn’t waver. Instead, he slid closer, resting a hand casually on the back of your chair. "Seriously, though. You’re in a much better mood now. My charm’s working, isn’t it?"

"Or maybe I’m just ignoring you," you replied dryly, typing without pause.

He chuckled, his laughter rich and low. "Ignoring me? Oh, sweetheart, if you were ignoring me, you wouldn’t have responded at all."

You sighed, still refusing to meet his gaze. He watched you intently, his eyes tracing the lines of your face, the subtle movements of your lips as you murmured something under your breath. For a moment, he was silent, caught in the strange, unfamiliar pull of wanting to touch you—not for show, not as part of this ridiculous transactional arrangement, but because he wanted to feel the solidity of you beneath his hands.

So, he acted.

Before you could react, his arms were around you, pulling you into a firm, almost possessive embrace. He buried his face against your hair, his lips brushing against your temple in a gesture that was disarmingly tender.

You stiffened but didn’t pull away. Not yet.

"Not in public," you said flatly, your tone devoid of emotion.

He laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest. "We’re in an office. No one’s here but us. Doesn’t count."

You sighed, finally turning your head just enough to give him a withering look. "Still. Stop."

"Stop what?" he teased, his grin widening. He tilted his head, pressing his lips to your cheek in a playful kiss, lingering just enough to make your expression harden. "I’m just fulfilling my boyfriend duties. What, you don’t want me to be affectionate?"

"This isn’t affection. It’s a distraction," you retorted, your voice sharp but your body strangely still in his hold.

"Oh, so you do know what affection is. I was beginning to think you were allergic to it," he quipped, his arms tightening slightly as if daring you to push him away.

But you didn’t. Not yet.

His gaze drifted down to your lips again, unbidden memories of last night creeping into his mind. The way you’d slapped him, the way you’d rubbed at your mouth as if scrubbing him off—it had stung. More than he wanted to admit. And then you’d dropped that bomb about it not being your first kiss. That knowledge sat heavy in his chest now, simmering with something dark and ugly.

Jealousy.

He hated the word, hated the feeling even more. But there it was, coiled tight around his thoughts, tainting everything.

"Hey," he said suddenly, his voice softer, almost coaxing. "You never did tell me about your first kiss."

"Drop it," you said firmly, shifting in his hold.

"Come on," he pressed, his tone still light but his grip on you unyielding. "It’s not like I’m going to judge. I’m just… curious."

"I said drop it." This time, your voice had an edge to it, and you finally moved to shrug him off.

But he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression carefully masked with that infuriating grin. "Alright, alright. I’ll drop it. For now."

You narrowed your eyes at him but said nothing, turning back to your work.

Still, his hands lingered, his fingers brushing over your arm in a way that felt deliberate. He smiled to himself, his mind churning with thoughts he didn’t want to dissect too closely.

Transactional or not, he was still your boyfriend. Your first boyfriend. The only one you had now.

And that? That was enough. For now.

────────────

The garage hummed with a low din: the scrape of pool cues against felt, the occasional clink of beer bottles, and the raucous laughter of his friends echoing off the cement walls. The air reeked of oil, sweat, and cheap cologne, a heady cocktail that somehow felt like home. He leaned against the pool table, a cue stick balanced lazily in one hand as his gaze drifted—unfocused, distant, and entirely unlike him.

“You good, man?” One of the guys leaned in, squinting at him. “You’ve been off all night. Usually, you’re the one running your mouth the loudest. What gives?”

He blinked, snapping out of his trance, and a lazy grin slid across his face. “What? I’m just letting you losers have your moment. Can’t have me wiping the floor with you every game.”

The group laughed, though the scrutiny didn’t ease. Someone else chimed in, gesturing toward him with a beer bottle. “Nah, nah, there’s something going on. You’ve been staring off into space like you’re in some indie movie montage. What’s eating you?”

He rolled his eyes, straightening up and spinning the cue stick in his hand. “Nothing’s eating me. You guys are just too boring to hold my attention.”

The teasing jabs came quick after that, each more ridiculous than the last. “Oh, I know what it is,” one of the guys said, smirking. “It’s that ice queen of his. What’s her name again? Miss ‘I’m too good for this world’?”

A chorus of laughter erupted, and he smirked, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You mean my girlfriend?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, you wish you could land someone like her. Don’t be jealous just ’cause I’ve got taste.”

“Girlfriend, huh?” Another guy leaned in, grinning. “Man, you’ve never been serious about anyone in your life. What’s the deal? She finally melt that big ‘I don’t care about anything’ heart of yours?”

He snorted, the sound sharp and dismissive. “As if. It’s a transactional thing, remember? Don’t go reading any Nicholas Sparks nonsense into it.” He paused, spinning the cue stick once more before adding, almost offhandedly, “Though she did mention something interesting.”

That got their attention. “Oh?” one of them said, his tone dripping with curiosity. “What’s that?”

��She’s got a past,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “Romantic history or whatever.”

There was a beat of stunned silence before the room erupted into laughter again.

“Her? No way!” one of them wheezed, slapping his knee. “You’re telling me the Ice Queen actually let someone get close to her? Hell, I thought she’d freeze anyone who tried.”

“Right? She barely tolerates him,” another joked, pointing at him with a pool cue. “And he’s the boyfriend! Can you imagine anyone else even standing a chance?”

He shrugged, the grin on his face sharp and self-assured, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes. “Hey, I’m just as shocked as you guys. But yeah, apparently she’s kissed someone before. Wild, right?”

“Pfft, no way,” someone scoffed. “She’s probably messing with you. Bet she said it just to get under your skin.”

“Yeah, no offense, but she doesn’t exactly scream ‘romantic whirlwind.’ What, did she date a robot?”

The laughter rolled on, but he didn’t join in. Instead, he leaned back against the pool table, his grip tightening on the cue stick. He kept his expression light, easygoing, but inside, something coiled tighter and tighter, a venomous knot of jealousy and something he couldn’t quite name.

“Maybe she did,” he said finally, his voice smooth but edged with something razor-thin. “Or maybe she just has good taste and doesn’t fall for losers like you.”

The guys hooted and hollered, taking his words as another well-timed joke, but he didn’t laugh. Instead, his mind lingered on the thought of her—her cool, distant demeanor, the way she brushed him off like he was nothing. And yet… someone else had touched her first.

The idea churned in his gut, hot and nauseating.

Transactional or not, she was his now. Wasn’t she?

———

The laughter around him ebbed and flowed, but it barely registered. He leaned against the edge of the pool table, staring blankly at the neon beer sign on the wall. The buzz of their voices blurred into a distant hum, and his mind gnawed at the frayed edges of the conversation like a dog with a bone.

“Yo, you’re spacing out again,” one of the guys said, snapping his fingers in front of his face. “What’s the deal, man? You look like someone ran over your dog.”

He smirked, forcing himself back into the moment. “Please, like I’d ever let that happen. You guys know me—cool as a cucumber.”

“Cucumber, my ass,” someone quipped. “You’ve been weird ever since you brought up her romantic history. What’s the matter, hotshot? Jealous someone else got to her first?”

The words hit like a sucker punch. Jealous? Him? Of course not. He was the picture of casual detachment, the poster boy for not giving a damn. It wasn’t like they were in love. The relationship was an agreement, a mutually beneficial arrangement. It wasn’t supposed to be messy. It wasn’t supposed to matter.

But it did.

“Jealous? Me?” He barked out a laugh, the sound a little too sharp. “C’mon, you think I care about some guy who’s probably ancient history? If anything, I’m curious. What kind of guy would even catch her eye? She’s not exactly handing out free passes.”

“Curious, huh?” One of the guys grinned, leaning against his pool cue. “Sure, let’s call it that. I mean, it’s not like you’ve ever been the possessive type.”

The comment was met with a wave of snickers, and he rolled his eyes, his grin widening. “Exactly. I’m chill. Relaxed. Totally unbothered.” He emphasized the last word, slapping the pool table for effect, but the laughter around him only grew louder.

“Yeah, sure you are,” another guy chimed in, taking a swig from his beer. “That’s why you’ve been stewing over this for, what, ten minutes now?”

He forced another laugh, but inside, the knot in his chest tightened. What was wrong with him? This wasn’t like him. He’d had plenty of relationships—flings, hookups, even a couple that could loosely be called serious—and he’d never felt like this. Never felt this gnawing, restless ache that made him want to punch a wall and pull her closer at the same time.

It wasn’t even logical. So what if she’d had someone before him? It wasn’t like he owned her. She was her own person, icy and untouchable as she was. And yet…

And yet.

The image of her brushing off his kiss the night before crept into his mind, unbidden and unwelcome. The way she’d wiped her sleeve across her mouth, the way her voice had been sharp, cutting, when she’d told him it wasn’t her first kiss.

The thought burned.

He clenched his jaw, spinning his pool cue in his hands like a restless fidget. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. He wasn’t the jealous type. He wasn’t the possessive type. He was laid-back, easygoing, always ready with a joke or a grin. That was who he was. That was what made him so good at this kind of thing.

So why did the thought of her with someone else make him feel like he was coming apart at the seams?

“Alright, spill it,” one of the guys said, breaking through his spiraling thoughts. “Who was it, huh? Some prince charming? Some straight-laced business major who knows how to schmooze parents?”

He scoffed, the sound automatic. “Please. Like I’d even know. She didn’t exactly give me a play-by-play.”

“Bet it was some boring, pencil-pushing nerd,” another guy chimed in. “She seems like the type to go for someone... predictable.”

Predictable. The word grated against his nerves. Predictable wasn’t him. It wasn’t them. Their relationship, transactional as it was, wasn’t supposed to fit into neat little boxes. It was supposed to be different.

He was supposed to be different.

But here he was, sitting in a dingy garage with his friends, trying to rationalize the irrational. Trying to figure out why he cared so much about a past that wasn’t supposed to matter.

“You guys are way off,” he said finally, his tone light but his grip on the cue stick betraying him. “If she did have someone before me, they weren’t memorable. She’s with me now, isn’t she? That’s all that counts.”

“Spoken like a true charmer,” one of them teased, and he smirked, though the weight in his chest didn’t lift.

Yeah, she was with him now. That was all that mattered.

So why didn’t it feel like enough?

———

The ribbing didn’t stop. If anything, it picked up speed like a train without brakes, and he was tied to the tracks.

“You’re really off your game tonight, man,” one of them said, chalking the tip of his cue stick. “You keep spacing out, missing shots, and letting us win? That’s not you. You’re usually the one handing us our asses.”

Another chimed in, leaning against the edge of the table with a sly grin. “Seriously, you’ve got this whole garage thinking. Is the great charmer finally losing his touch? That what’s bugging you?”

He twirled his cue with exaggerated nonchalance, plastering a smirk across his face even as his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles. “Please. Like I’d ever lose my touch. I could charm the rust off a bolt if I wanted to. I’m just... keeping things interesting. Letting you guys feel like you’ve got a shot for once.”

The laughter was immediate, loud, and thoroughly unconvinced. One of them even doubled over, clutching his stomach.

“Yeah, right. You’ve been distracted all night. And don’t think we didn’t catch the little bombshell you dropped earlier. The Ice Queen has a romantic history?”

“Shocking, right?” another piped up, voice dripping with mock astonishment. “I mean, no offense, but she doesn’t seem like the type to go for you. Or anyone, really.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t interrupt, knowing that trying to stop them would only make it worse. He’d been here before—well, not exactly here, but close enough to know the best way out was to wait until they got bored.

Too bad that wasn’t happening anytime soon.

“I mean, think about it,” one of them continued, his tone growing more amused by the second. “She’s this cold, untouchable, straight-laced type. Always looks like she’s got a stick up her—”

“Careful,” he interrupted, his tone light but the edge unmistakable. The shift in the air was subtle but palpable, like the faint scent of ozone before a storm.

The guy raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. My bad. I was just saying—she’s not exactly your usual type. And you’re definitely not hers.”

“Yeah,” another added with a smirk. “She probably goes for, like, bookworm types. You know, the quiet, nerdy guys who read poetry and bring her tea while she’s working. The ones who wouldn’t dare try anything until they’ve written a formal letter asking for permission.”

That earned a round of chuckles, and his smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. Not that anyone else noticed—they were too busy piling on.

“Yeah, man, face it. You’re too loud, too flashy. She probably thinks you’re just a walking ego trip. All charm, no substance.”

“Exactly,” someone else added. “It’s probably why your charm doesn’t work on her. She’s immune. Bet she’s only with you because it’s convenient or something.”

The words hit harder than they should have, slipping under his skin and sticking there like splinters. He forced out a laugh, sharp and just a little too loud. “Convenient? Yeah, right. She’s lucky to have me. I’m the full package: brains, brawn, and a personality that makes life interesting.”

“Interesting, huh?” another guy said, raising an eyebrow. “Or annoying? Pretty sure those are interchangeable in your case.”

“Hey, she hasn’t dumped me yet,” he shot back, deflecting with practiced ease. “That’s gotta count for something.”

But even as he spoke, the words rang hollow. His usual bravado felt like a thin shell, barely holding together under the weight of something he didn’t want to name. Something ugly, and burning, and clawing at the edges of his chest.

Jealousy.

He hated admitting it, even to himself. But the idea of her with some quiet, bookish type—the kind of guy who might actually understand her silences and match her calm, reclusive nature—was like sandpaper against his nerves.

And worse, the idea that she might prefer someone like that...

He clenched his jaw, his smirk freezing into something sharper.

“You know,” one of them said, breaking into his thoughts, “it’s kinda funny. For all your talk, you’re acting a lot like a guy who’s got something to prove. Like you actually care what she thinks.”

“I don’t,” he lied smoothly, his voice as light as air. “Why would I? It’s not like this is anything serious.”

The words tasted bitter, but he swallowed them down, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Whatever you say, man,” someone said, shaking their head. “But you might want to figure it out before she realizes you’re not as cool as you think you are.”

The garage erupted into laughter again, and he joined in, the sound loud and hollow.

But later, when he was alone, the laughter would fade, leaving only the burning question that wouldn’t let him rest:

Why did it matter so damn much?

────────────

The stars above the city burned cold, distant, and sharp as needles. The private balcony was far enough from the glittering chaos of the gala to offer a semblance of quiet, though the muffled hum of music and laughter still seeped through the glass doors. The cold air bit at your skin, but it was a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat of the crowd.

He leaned against the balustrade, a champagne flute dangling from his fingers, the liquid untouched and shimmering like pale gold in the faint light. His tailored suit clung to his frame, the picture of nonchalance, but his eyes betrayed him—glinting with something predatory, something calculating.

“So,” he began, his voice smooth and edged with a teasing lilt. “I was thinking.”

You didn’t bother to turn from the view of the sprawling city below. “That’s dangerous.”

He chuckled, soft and low, but there was a weight to it that made your spine stiffen. He tilted his head, watching you like a hawk sizing up its prey. “Funny. No, really, I’ve been thinking about us.”

“Us,” you echoed flatly. “The contract is clear. There’s nothing to think about.”

“Sure,” he said, pushing off the railing and stepping closer. His presence was like a shadow swallowing light, oppressive and impossible to ignore. “But I’ve been reviewing it, and I think we’ve overlooked some... fine print.”

“Fine print,” you repeated, finally turning to face him, your expression impassive. “There is no fine print. You drafted it yourself, remember?”

“Exactly,” he said, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Which means I have the right to amend it if I see fit. And I’ve noticed a few areas that could use... adjustment.”

You crossed your arms, your gaze narrowing. “Such as?”

He stepped closer, close enough that the faint scent of his cologne mingled with the crisp night air. His tone was light, almost playful, but there was an undercurrent of something darker, something that coiled around his words like smoke.

“For one,” he began, “I think we need to establish clearer boundaries about third-party interactions. You know, to avoid misunderstandings.”

Your brow twitched. “There haven’t been any misunderstandings.”

“Not yet,” he agreed, his voice soft and coaxing, like a blade hidden in velvet. “But let’s be proactive. For instance, we should clarify what kind of behavior is acceptable when interacting with... other men.”

You stared at him, your expression as unyielding as stone. “That’s unnecessary.”

“Is it?” he countered, his grin sharpening. “You don’t think it’s wise to define expectations? After all, appearances are everything. Wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about us.”

“People already know what this is,” you said coolly. “A performance. There’s no need to complicate it.”

“But isn’t the whole point of a performance to make it convincing?” he asked, his tone dripping with feigned innocence. “And for that, we need consistency. Unity. Which is why I propose we add a clause about exclusive proximity.”

“Exclusive proximity,” you echoed, your voice flat. “That’s absurd.”

“Is it?” he asked, tilting his head. “Think about it. If we’re seen with too many... distractions, it undermines the whole charade. It’s just common sense.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he was already pressing on, his words smooth and relentless.

———

The air seemed to thin as his words settled between you, the kind of silence that carried a weight far heavier than sound. He leaned closer, bracing himself against the railing with the kind of ease that betrayed the sharpness lurking beneath his carefully curated mask of charm. The city glittered below, but its brilliance felt muted compared to the fire smoldering in his gaze.

“Let me break it down,” he said, his voice silken, the edges just sharp enough to catch. “Exclusivity isn’t just about proximity. It’s about cohesion. A story without holes. Every moment you’re with someone else—a colleague, a stranger, hell, even a waiter—it opens a crack in the facade.”

Your eyes flicked to him, narrowing. “You’re reaching.”

He smiled—a wolfish, predatory thing. “Am I? Think about it. Someone catches sight of you laughing with some random nobody, and suddenly, the gossip mill is running wild. The illusion cracks. We lose credibility. And if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s losing.”

The venomous certainty in his tone made your stomach twist, though your face remained unreadable. “So what exactly are you proposing?”

He straightened, his shadow looming over you as if it carried a weight beyond the physical. “Ground rules. For both of us. Simple ones. For example…” He tapped a finger against the champagne flute, the ring of the glass echoing faintly. “No private conversations with anyone of interest. No one-on-one meetings without prior notice. And no touching—intentional or otherwise—unless absolutely necessary.”

Your brow arched, your lips tightening. “No touching. That’s… excessive.”

“Is it?” he shot back smoothly, tilting his head as if genuinely curious. “Think about it. Even the smallest gesture—a hand on the shoulder, a brush of fingers—can be misconstrued. Especially when it’s you.” His gaze flickered, a flash of something unspoken. “People notice you. They watch. And they talk.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back slightly against the balcony rail. “Fine. But if we’re establishing rules, they go both ways. You don’t exactly have a reputation for restraint.”

His grin widened, amusement flickering in the depths of his eyes. “Touché. Consider it mutual, then. No unnecessary interaction, no inappropriate proximity. Strictly business.”

“And why now?” you asked, your voice measured, almost detached. “Why bring this up tonight?”

For a moment, something flickered across his face—an almost imperceptible crack in the facade. But he recovered quickly, his grin sharpening. “Call it foresight. With the families involved, things get messier. More eyes, more pressure. We can’t afford to slip.”

You studied him, your silence stretching just long enough to make his fingers twitch against the railing. Finally, you inclined your head. “Fine. If that’s what it takes to keep this convincing, I’ll play along.”

He exhaled, a sound that was almost a laugh but carried none of the humor. “Good. I knew you’d see reason.” He lifted his champagne glass in a mock toast, the liquid catching the starlight like liquid fire. “To flawless performances.”

You didn’t respond, turning back to the city below. The cold bit deeper now, but you didn’t shiver. Behind you, his gaze lingered, heavy and unrelenting.

The ground rules were set, the game clearly defined. But as the night pressed on, the sense of control he so carefully clung to felt like it was unraveling thread by thread.

And it wasn’t the rules that haunted him—it was why he felt the need to create them in the first place.

———

He leaned casually against the railing, but his posture was deceptively loose, the sharp intelligence in his eyes betraying his calculated intent. The champagne glass in his hand caught the faint glow of the city below, though he hadn’t touched a drop.

“So,” he began, his tone laced with a playful edge, “while we’re ironing out the details, there’s another area I think we should revisit. Physical affection.”

Your eyes snapped to his, cold and narrowed. “What about it?”

He smirked, tilting his head slightly as though considering his words carefully. “Let’s be honest. Right now, the way things are? We’re convincing, sure—but just barely. The hand-holding, the occasional arm around the waist? It’s surface-level. Anyone with half a brain can see through it.”

“That’s the point,” you replied, your voice calm but firm. “It’s enough to maintain appearances without crossing unnecessary lines.”

His grin widened, but there was an almost imperceptible edge to it, a flicker of something darker in his expression. “Enough for who? The nosy old ladies at brunch? Sure. But for the vultures at this level? Not a chance. They smell weakness. And right now, what they see screams ‘contractual convenience,’ not passion. We need to up our game.”

You folded your arms across your chest, your stance unmoving. “Define ‘up our game.’”

“Well,” he said smoothly, setting the untouched glass on the railing, “kisses, for one. Not just the casual kind. Something real. Convincing. Hell, even a few heated moments in public wouldn’t hurt. And behind closed doors?” He gave a mock shrug, his grin turning teasing. “Who knows? Maybe even a little noise for the sake of appearances.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t fall from your skull. “You’re joking.”

“Am I?” he replied, his tone maddeningly reasonable. “Think about it. The way things are now, people will start talking. Rumors of a weak marriage. Arranged out of convenience, not love. And with you being... well, you—” his gaze flicked over you, deliberate and lingering— “it won’t take long for people to start circling. People like to test boundaries when they think they can get away with it.”

“People already talk,” you shot back. “That’s inevitable. But none of this changes the fact that this is fake. I’m not pretending that far.”

“Why not?” he countered, his grin sharpening. “You’ve already agreed to exclusivity. This is just the logical next step.”

“It’s unnecessary,” you said flatly. “The exclusivity rules make sense. This? This is overreach.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, almost coaxing tone. “Is it, though? Think about it. If we don’t convince them, it undermines everything we’ve built. You don’t want to spend the rest of this arrangement fending off speculation and propositions, do you?”

“Speculation is manageable,” you said, your voice cool and steady. “And propositions are irrelevant. I can handle myself.”

“Of course you can,” he said, his tone light but his gaze intense. “But why should you have to? Why not just nip it in the bud? Make it clear to everyone that you’re untouchable.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, your patience fraying. “I already am untouchable.”

His grin didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something else beneath it—jealousy, sharp and bitter. “Sure. But people don’t see that. What they see is opportunity. The kind that comes from a woman who’s too beautiful, too brilliant, and too unattainable for her own good.”

The words were teasing, but the way he said them made your skin prickle. There was something possessive lurking beneath the surface, something he tried to bury beneath layers of logic and charm but couldn’t entirely hide.

“This isn’t about logic,” you said, your voice steady but edged with steel. “It’s about control. And I’m not giving you that.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin turning mischievous. “Touché. But hey, I’m just saying—when the rumors start flying and the vultures start circling, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You turned back to the city, dismissing him with a sharp glance. “Noted. But the answer is still no.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous. “Fair enough. For now.”

———

The cold of the night pressed against your skin, biting and relentless, but his body, wrapped tightly around yours, was an oppressive heat you couldn’t shake. The weight of his arms on your shoulders felt heavier than it should, his fingers grazing your arms with a possessive slowness. He leaned into you, his chest firm against your back, his breath warm and invasive against your ear.

“You know,” he murmured, his tone as smooth as the glassy city lights below, “this hesitation of yours—it’s fascinating. Almost charming, in its own way. But... I can’t help but wonder.” His voice dipped lower, a silken purr laced with something darker. “What’s got you so hesitant? People do this all the time, don’t they? Even when it doesn’t mean anything.”

You stiffened, your gaze locked on the sprawling cityscape, refusing to turn. Your neutrality was a fortress, built brick by brick to withstand his probing. But his persistence was a battering ram. Slowly, deliberately, he dipped his head closer, inhaling deeply near the curve of your neck, the action intimate enough to send a shiver rippling through your body.

“Unless,” he mused, his lips curving into a smirk you couldn’t see but could feel like a knife at your throat, “it’s because of them. You know, the one who got that first kiss of yours. Was it them?”

The question hung in the air, venomous and cutting. For a fraction of a second, the apathy on your face cracked—a millisecond’s slip in the armor you wore so flawlessly. Your hand twitched, and your lips parted as though to respond, but no words came. Instead, your expression hardened once more, a glacial mask snapping back into place. Silent. Untouchable.

But he had seen it.

That brief, fleeting moment of vulnerability had told him more than you ever could. And though his smile remained, it was stretched too tight, his teeth bared in something that wasn’t amusement. His fingers dug into your shoulders, just a little too hard, before softening as if to mask the momentary lapse in control.

“Ah,” he said, the word slipping out in a low exhale, almost inaudible. He pressed closer, the air between you suffocating. “So it was them. That explains so much.”

His tone was still light, teasing, but the undercurrent of tension was unmistakable, coiling tighter and tighter beneath his practiced facade. His lips ghosted near your temple, the proximity a calculated weapon, and his fingers trailed down your arms, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

“You know,” he continued, his voice honeyed but sickly sweet, “whoever they were... they must have left quite the impression to make you this way. But I’m curious—did it mean anything to you? Or was it just... a moment?”

Your silence was deafening, a dagger plunged into the space between you.

He chuckled softly, though the sound was hollow. “Not that it matters, of course. You’re here now, with me. That’s all that really counts, isn’t it?”

But his grip tightened imperceptibly, his smile curving into something dangerous, something that betrayed the storm raging just beneath the surface. He didn’t let go. If anything, his hold on you became stronger, his presence more invasive.

And though he kept his composure, the truth was a venomous whisper in his mind, sinking its fangs deep and twisting.

Not fucking happy at all.

────────────

He didn't bring it up again. Any of it, anymore.

But, the room still felt colder than it should have. The air conditioning hummed low, but the chill that seeped into your skin wasn’t mechanical. It was the kind of cold that came from within, from the way your fingers gripped the edge of the desk too tightly, from the rigidity in your spine as you pretended not to notice the man leaning against the corner with the practiced ease of someone who could read you too well.

He’d been watching you for too long now, his gaze like a scalpel, peeling away layers you’d tried so hard to keep intact. He shifted, breaking the stillness with a deliberate, exaggerated sigh.

“You know,” he began, his voice carrying that maddeningly playful lilt, “if looks could kill, that desk would be in pieces by now. What’d it ever do to you, baby?”

You didn’t answer. Of course, you didn’t.

He moved closer, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the sterile air. The sound of his footsteps was soft but deliberate, a hunter’s tread. “Still giving me the silent treatment? Harsh. I’m starting to think you don’t appreciate my charming company.”

“Go away,” you said, your voice clipped, devoid of emotion. Your fingers tightened on the desk, a small tell he didn’t miss.

“Aw, come on,” he said, his grin audible in his voice. “Don’t be like that. I’m just trying to help. You know, as your incredibly dedicated, selfless boyfriend.” He leaned closer, his hand resting on the back of your chair. “And let’s face it, I’m the only person who’d put up with you when you’re like this.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t look at him. It was exactly the reaction he wanted.

“Seriously,” he continued, his tone shifting to something softer but no less teasing. “What’s going on? You’re more wound up than usual, and that’s saying something.”

“I’m fine,” you said, the words flat, a wall slamming down between you.

“Sure you are,” he said, circling around to lean on the desk beside you. He crossed his arms, his smirk unwavering. “You know, for someone so icy, you’re terrible at hiding when something’s bothering you.”

“I said I’m fine,” you repeated, your tone sharper now.

“And I said I don’t believe you,” he shot back, his voice light but with an edge of persistence. “C’mon, Ice Queen. What’s eating at you? Work? Family? Or did someone finally dare to make eye contact for more than three seconds?”

You ignored him, your focus locked on the papers in front of you, but he wasn’t deterred. He crouched slightly, putting himself in your line of sight.

“Look, I get it,” he said, his tone almost mockingly serious. “You’re all about the whole ‘strong, independent, untouchable’ thing. Very admirable. But newsflash, sweetheart: nobody’s that stoic all the time. Except maybe statues. And even they crack eventually.”

You pushed back from the desk abruptly, rising to your feet, but he didn’t give you space. Instead, he moved closer, his hand brushing your arm as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re really not gonna tell me, huh?” he said, his voice dropping to a murmur. He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your ear. “Not even a hint? A clue? C’mon, I’m dying here.”

You stiffened, stepping away, but he followed, his persistence like a shadow clinging to your every move. His hand caught yours this time, his grip firm but not forceful.

“You know,” he said, tilting his head with a smirk that was all sharp edges, “this whole ‘bottling it up’ thing you do? It’s kinda cute. Annoying, but cute. But it’s also not healthy. So spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill,” you snapped, finally turning to face him. Your eyes were cold, your voice even colder, but he wasn’t fazed.

“Liar,” he said simply, his grin widening. “You’re terrible at it, by the way. And you know I’m not going anywhere until you give me something.”

You glared at him, your jaw tightening, but he just leaned closer, his fingers brushing against your arm. “Is it work? Someone bothering you? Or—” His tone shifted, sly and teasing now. “Wait, don’t tell me. Is it me? Did I finally get under your skin?”

“Always,” you muttered, pulling your hand free and turning away.

He laughed, the sound warm but with a sharpness that didn’t quite match. “Good. Means I’m doing my job right. But seriously, baby girl, if someone’s bothering you—besides me, obviously—you’d tell me, right?”

You didn’t answer, and for a moment, the teasing dropped from his voice entirely. He straightened, his gaze darkening as he watched you retreat to the far side of the room.

“You don’t tell anyone anything, do you?” he said softly, almost to himself. The words weren’t a question; they were a statement, heavy with an emotion he refused to name.

You paused, your back to him, but didn’t turn.

“Fine,” he said after a moment, his usual bravado snapping back into place like armor. He grinned, stepping toward you again. “Keep your secrets. But just so you know, sweetheart, I’m very good at getting what I want. And you? You’re not as unreadable as you think.”

The way he said it—soft, teasing, but with an undercurrent of something darker—sent a shiver down your spine. But you didn’t respond, and he didn’t push further. Not yet.

────────────

The glow of his laptop bathed the dim room in cold, blue light. The muffled sounds of the city filtered through the cracked window—a distant hum of engines, the occasional wail of a siren. But none of it reached him. His focus was absolute, his fingers ghosting over the keyboard with a precision that bordered on surgical.

Lines of text blurred and refreshed, tabs multiplied, searches refined. It was nothing. It was nothing. Just... research. A precaution, really. Something any diligent professional would do in his field.

"Due diligence." The phrase rolled through his mind like a soothing mantra as he adjusted his search parameters. Business students did this all the time, didn’t they? Gathering information on potential clients, tracking leads. It wasn’t unethical—it was smart. Practical. Just like he was.

His brow furrowed as the screen refreshed again, yielding nothing new. No personal social media accounts. No tagged photos. Everything you had out there was airtight—pristine. Your LinkedIn was polished to perfection, clinical and devoid of any personal flair. Your work email was meticulously professional. No footprints, no cracks.

You were a fortress, an enigma wrapped in ice, and it was maddening.

"Not even a stupid Instagram," he muttered under his breath, leaning back in his chair and scrubbing a hand through his hair. His other hand hovered over the touchpad, fingers twitching with a restless energy he couldn’t quite contain. He hated how good you were at this, at keeping the world at arm's length. It was infuriating.

And yet, it only made him more determined.

Because how else was he supposed to help you? Protect you? It wasn’t like you’d talk to him, let alone open up. You were a steel door slammed shut, your apathy the lock, and your sharp, biting tongue the key he could never quite reach.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t stalking,” he murmured, as if saying it aloud could make it true. “This is... protecting my investment.”

He winced at the word. It felt wrong somehow, but logical. The contract between you two was the foundation of your relationship, after all. If you didn’t want to share your problems with him, fine—but he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. That wasn’t who he was.

“People research celebrities all the time,” he reasoned, his voice low and even, the rhythm of his own words calming. “Background checks, public records... It’s normal. It’s not like I’m invading her privacy. This is just... strategy.”

But even as he said it, a part of him bristled.

It wasn’t just strategy. And he knew it.

The truth was, it gnawed at him—the not knowing. The mystery of you was a drug he couldn’t quit, the unanswered questions keeping him awake at night. Who was the person who kissed you first? Why did your walls feel so much higher, so much thicker, lately? What the hell was going on in that brilliant, maddening head of yours?

He leaned forward again, fingers flying across the keyboard with renewed purpose. If he couldn’t ask you, he’d find out on his own. He told himself it wasn’t because he needed to know, wasn’t because the thought of anyone else touching you—or knowing you—made his stomach twist with something cold and acidic.

No, it wasn’t jealousy again. It was logic. Rationality.

But as the hours ticked by and the search grew colder, that logic began to crack.

His phone buzzed, breaking the silence. He glanced at the screen—one of the boys from the garage had sent a message, probably another joke about his “domestication.” He ignored it, returning his gaze to the screen.

Nothing. Again.

“Damn it,” he hissed, slamming the laptop shut with more force than necessary. He sat back, running both hands through his hair, staring up at the cracked ceiling.

You were impossible. And that impossibility—it thrilled him. Infuriated him. Tore at him like a splinter buried too deep to pull out.

But he wouldn’t stop. Not until he had answers.

Because protecting you wasn’t just part of the job anymore.

It was everything.

────────────

♡ Masterlist. If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology. Thank you.

♡ Tag List. “A Heart Devoured”: @definetlythinkimanalien , @floooring , @lilyalone , @theogborjie , @ne7zach , @songbirdgardensworld

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

[enkays-den]

Enkay Watches the Imp and Skizz Podcast #127 (featuring @joehills)

First of all, if you are not watching Joe Hills on either youtube or twitch, DO IT!!!! He's streaming pretty much every day and the conversations are always so interesting and he has the best little windows into the workings of Hermitcraft. Folks will pop by and have super interesting conversations with him! He's one of my favorite hermits and I think his unique way of experiencing minecraft, life, and hermitcraft is something that deserves more eyes on it, because I know people are sleeping on him.

First off, THIS is how you show up to the Imp and Skizz Podcast! Classy, on brand, and unique!

I love Impulse's little nest of pillows, he's so cozy nestled in there, holding his mandated amount of water like a security blanket

I love that the reason they wanted Joe on was to talk about the coup SPOILERS: they never even touch on it

joe's dad being a logician makes so much sense tbh

"a creationist universe where god wants you dead and i play minecraft like a greek hero idiot" is such an amazing way to talk about super hostile maps

HOW IS IT THAT JOE AND SKIZZ BOTH HAVE EDGAR ALLEN POE ANECDOTES OFF THE DOME

Joe having his wedding taking place during the recess of a vehicular manslaughter trial feels so strange and yet so Joe

JOE HILLS FULL NAME DROP?????

"YOU'VE GOTTA BE JOE KING" okay he mentioned on stream that there was a joke that maybe two people would get and I will proudly claim to be one of the two.

"fighting to become an artist" is so validating to Skizz's journey so far. It's gonna be his year anniversary of being a hermit soon and im gonna get emotional about his path this last year

Joe WOULD put on the Scottish Parliament sessions as background noise, love that

"I don't trust any platform with my art. I'm the one that makes the art and the audience is the one that appreciates my art" "I need to be as platform/brand agnostic as possible" "next time Amazon does something terrible to the unions" 👏👏👏

CHEERS REFERENCE, SKIZZ'S SITCOM BRAIN IS ACTIVATED

talking about his streams like a bar and like,,,,, he's so smart about the role of creators and fandom and i just appreciate joe so much

it's funny that they're shocked about the relationships can be formed within fandoms when like,,,,, that's how they met tango

((also if we talk regularly and read this i love you guys <3))

skizz, the worst chat reader ever i love you

i need hermitcraft standup. please. custom texture snowballs as tomatoes or flowers to throw

thinking about a younger skizz using a tape recorder to record his 'genius ideas' and quotes he likes and annoying the crap out of his friends

YES JOE AND SKIZZ TALKING ABOUT THE SCIENCE OF COMEDY AND THE STRUCTURE, THEY'RE SUCH AN INTELLECTUAL DUO

I'm glad that we got to hear Joe's JFK impression

COURT CASE TALK!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Bdubs will only let Doc win if it's funnier for doc to win, because that's how guilty doc was"

Joe quoting Sun Tsu and then going on the stand and said "Your Honor, Your Highness, my client is a baby" in an asymetric star trek dress, that's the Joe Hills Difference

"DELICIOUS" skizz i love how schadenfreude you are

"FIVE DIAMONDS PER F TIER BOOK???" impulse my favorite wet cat

"I'll make one sale every two months" and also implying that the shopping district has property taxes

the delivery on "two. some people say four" was SLICK

TUMBLR MCYT SEXYMAN POLL MENTION

"tumblr defines sexyman to mean 'most bizarre, cryptid, creepy thing' " not wrong there.

"well scar is obviously going to win the sexyman competition"

"once i found out that it's for weird, cryptid energy, I knew "oh nevermind I'm gonna win this"

joe hills is my favorite weird guy and he deserved to win

cleo as our nonbinary icon placing third place in the tumblr sexyman poll

All in all, fantastic podcast, and not long enough imo. I hope Joe gets to be there in person one day like he originally envisioned, and there's just an untapped well of information that could go into future podcasts

Reminder that you should subscribe and follow Joe!

BONUS, edited by me, please credit if you use it, I HIGHLY ENCOURAGE you to use it (original screencap under cut):

[cece693]

Replacement (Enoch O'Connor x M! Reader)

I wanted to add something to the relatively small pool of fics for this fandom. All characters are of age and can be envisioned as their book or movie counterparts.

Summary: As a healer, you naturally seek to care for those around you. So it was easy to befriend Jake when he first entered Miss Peregrine's loop, confused and hurt by his grandfather's passing. However, your best friend doesn't see it that way.

It was official. Enoch hated Jake. Not that the other children noticed, or if they did, they were smart enough to not mention it. Maybe it was jealousy. Perhaps he was bothered by how Emma's eyes sparkled with interest whenever the American boy was around. Or maybe, it was the disruption to their routine, as Jake's presence always seemed to stir the loop like a stone tossed into a still pond.

But Olive knew the truth, for she had quickly discerned Enoch's emotions behind the venomous words he threw at Jake whenever he came near. It wasn't about Emma or their routine being disrupted. It was all because of you.

From the moment Jake first stumbled into their world, he latched onto you—an oddball healer with a gentle touch and ability to mend the deepest cuts, both physical and emotional. So when Jake arrived, it was natural for you to be his guide, explaining things in a way that made the strange world of peculiars feel less threatening.

Naturally, Enoch hated it.

Before Jake arrived, you’d spend every minute by his side—looking over his shoulder, letting out a bright smile whenever his creations came alive. Enoch secretly treasured these moments, feeling comfortable in your presence and falling for you more each day. But now? Now it was Jake this and Jake that.

No space was safe from Jake's influence, nor did the American make it easy to escape his presence. It seemed like whenever Enoch and you were together, he appeared from thin air, begging you to help him with something. It was as if the American knew of Enoch's feelings and acted to rile him up, whisking the attention of the only person he actually liked. It's not as if there weren't any other children who would be happy to spend time with the American, why did he seek you out specifically?

Every time he saw you two together, a storm brewed inside him, and a tight knot formed in his chest. Enoch wasn’t stupid. He understood what jealousy was, but this wasn’t just jealousy. This was fear. Fear that you were slipping away from him. Fear that Jake was replacing him.

One day, it all became too much.

Enoch was sitting at the table in the library, flipping through one of his old, tattered books on embalming techniques, though his focus had long since disappeared. His mind, as usual, was on you. He had tried to pretend like nothing was wrong, but the bitter feeling gnawed at him constantly. And then, as if the universe was mocking him, you and Jake walked into the room together.

Jake was talking about something, gesturing wildly with his hands, and you were laughing—a bright, carefree laugh that Enoch hadn’t heard in days.

That was the last straw.

"Seriously?" Enoch snapped, slamming his book shut, startling you both. Jake stopped mid-sentence, blinking in confusion, but Enoch didn’t care. His gaze was fixed on you, his voice sharp and biting. “Do you really have to follow him around all the time?”

Your smile faltered, a confused frown replacing it as you looked at him. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Enoch’s voice grew colder, harsher. His jealousy had festered too long, and now it spilled like poison. “Ever since he got here, it’s like you’ve forgotten everyone else exists.”

Jake shifted awkwardly beside you, clearly unsure of what to say, but Enoch didn’t give him a chance. “You’re spending so much time with him, acting like he needs you for everything. It's pathetic."

Your eyes narrowed, a flash of anger crossing your face. “He’s new here, Enoch! He does need help adjusting. And I’m not just going to ignore him because you—”

“Because I what?” Enoch cut you off, his eyes blazing. “Because I’m not needy enough for you? Because I don't fawn over you like a mutt every second like he does?””

Your mouth opened slightly, stunned by his words. Enoch could see the hurt forming in your eyes, but he was too wound up to stop now.

“Face it,” Enoch continued, his voice colder now, “you just want to feel like you matter to someone, right? Like you have some purpose. Well, here’s the truth—you’re not needed here. Jake can deal just fine on his own and I don’t need a dessolent friend.”

Your face twisted in hurt, and that twisted something deep inside Enoch. You stared at him, your hands trembling slightly at your sides. “You’re wrong,” you finally said, voice breaking. “But I guess I was wrong too, thinking you were my best friend.”

Before Enoch could respond, you turned and stormed out of the room, leaving him and Jake alone. The American looked like he was about to say something, but Enoch shot him a cold glare, daring him to speak.

Days passed. Days where Enoch didn’t see you, didn’t hear from you, and the space you used to fill in his life became an empty void he couldn’t bear to acknowledge. You weren't just avoiding him, you had begun to spend even more time with Jake, much to Enoch's dismay.

He tried to act like it didn’t bother him. He pretended he didn’t care when he saw you laughing as if his absence meant nothing to you. But it did. It hurt more than Enoch was willing to admit. It was only when Olive pushed him to accept his mistake that led him to stand at your door, long after the other house's inhabitants had gone to bed.

Enoch stood there for a long moment, his hand raised to knock, but his usual stubbornness kept holding him back. What if you didn’t forgive him? What if you’d already moved on and replaced him for good?

Taking a deep breath, Enoch knocked.

After a few agonizing moments, the door creaked open, and you stood there, blinking groggily at him in the dim light. You looked surprised to see him, and Enoch couldn’t blame you.

“What do you want, Enoch?” you asked, your voice flat, distant.

“I…” Enoch faltered for a moment, struggling to find the right words. His usual snark and bravado were gone, replaced with something more vulnerable, more uncertain. “I came to…apologize.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the doorframe, clearly not ready to let him off the hook so easily. “For what?”

“For what I said,” Enoch muttered, not meeting your eyes. “For being a complete prat.”

Your expression softened, but you didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue. Enoch sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Look, I didn’t mean it. Any of it,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “I was just…jealous. Of Jake. Of the time you’ve been spending with him.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Jealous? Why?”

Enoch hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. This was it. He could either admit the truth or lose you for good. Taking a deep breath, he finally met your gaze. “Because I like you,” he confessed in a whisper. “I’ve liked you for a long time, and seeing you with him made me feel like I was losing you. Like I wasn’t needed anymore. Like I was being replaced.”

The weight of his confession hung in the air, and Enoch braced himself for your response. He had no idea how you would react, but he had to say it. He couldn’t keep pretending like it didn’t matter anymore. You stood there for a long moment, staring at him, processing everything. Then, slowly, you stepped aside, opening the door wider.

“Come inside, Enoch,” you said quietly. “Let’s talk.”

And for the first time in days, Enoch felt a small glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, things could be fixed after all.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I know that Yuu is gender neutral in the game for many reasons so it makes me wonder if Yuu was a girl in Conan would that change the dialogues and the way the characters interact with her?

Like not a major change to the main story or turning the game into otome but some small ones like in some characters interaction with Leona when stepping on his tail he won't want to beat us (because of the respect woman thing lol) in book one or Deuce being shy in the beginning of their friendship.

Hmm... For the most part, I honestly don't really think so? Cater still calls Yuu cute, Azul is still pretty polite, etc. Rook still waxes poetic and creepily recites your sizes, etc. regardless of gender. At best, maybe some of those traits would be exaggerated a little more or expanded on to suit the scenario?? Like maybe Ace would initially tease fem!Yuu about being at an all-boys school or something, isn't she bothered by it? But I really doubt that anyone would be tripping over themselves to protect or befriend fem!Yuu or anything, especially when most at NRC are primarily concerned with their own interests. Most of the characters aren't noted to treat women particularly differently than other genders. We also don't get to see the NRC students interacting with girls around their age either, so it's hard to discern how they'd be with them. I think even the "Deuce being shy in the beginning of the friendship" headcanon comes from a perspective colored by writings in fandom; Deuce in canon doesn't really seem to demonstrate major issues interacting with girls, at least not that I can recall. At best, he expresses surprise when Grim mistakes Epel for a girl and fails to romance the Ghost Bride (he freezes up and his mind blanks; it’s difficult to say this is how he’d act around most women or if he just acts this way due to the demands of the situation). Deuce does mention in Ace’s Suitor Suit vignettes that he mainly interacts with his mom, as most girls—and guys—would run away from him due to how intimidating he was. He says he gets nervous about hurting girls’ feelings, though this is in reference to faking a proposal and not romance or interactions in general. I think if we eliminated romantic interest altogether--because, to be clear, one girl in a cast of mainly guys is NOT always meant to be romantic or a harem--most of the cast would be their usual selves, if not maybe a little more polite due to how they’ve been socialized to see women as the “fairer” sex. For example, Riddle, Epel, and Jade underestimate Sally, though this isn’t clear if it’s gender-based or because they sympathize with her poor home life. They may also be instances of the guys not really knowing how to deal with girls? For example, Trey fails to help Sally up after she has fallen (which Sebek chastises him for); Trey later admits that he doesn't know many women beyond his mother and sister who is 4 years younger than him. Because of this, he says it may be that he was subconsciously nervous to interact with her.

The exception to this, many would point out, is Leona, who comes from a country in which women are respected. The strange thing is, whenever this point is mentioned, I always see people speaking about it in relation to Leona and Leona only, even though Ruggie and Rook also come from the Sunset Savanna (so technically those latter two would also theoretically be respectful to women). Now, there's a lot of discussion in the fandom about just how far Leona's "feminism" (a term used by fandom, never said in official materials) stretches. The most extreme of takes paint Leona as a misandrist who actively hates on or mistreats men while upholding women as superiors. And that... Well, I don't agree with this interpretation whatsoever. Yes, Leona no doubt respects women and is more likely to listen to them if they ask him to do something (for example, attending a party for a female painting in Cater's School Uniform vignette or taking a picture of himself in his robes for his sister-in-law in his own Ceremonial Robes vignettes). However, he won't just keel over and do whatever is asked of him simply because it is coming from a woman (think back to Ghost Marriage; he was still pretty pissed off when Eliza slapped him), and nor is he shown to disparage his own gender.

Rather than putting women on a pedestal, I think it would be more accurate to say that Leona doesn't underestimate women or think lesser of them because of their gender. (If you're interested my detailed breakdown of "feminist" Leona, check out this analysis.) For example, while his classmates worry for Sally's wellbeing in Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas, Leona lauds Sally's cunning and ability to save herself. We also get a pretty good look of this in the Episode of Savanaclaw manga, which features a female Yuu. (And before anyone says, "Yuuka could be hiding the fact she's a girl!", take a look at these panels. She is clearly not making an effort to hide her chest and given her nonchalant personality + ability to physically defend herself, Yuuka has no in-universe reason to be hiding her gender. The other students probably don’t bring up that she’s a girl because she’s already been around at NRC for roughly a month at this point and have likely acclimated to her presence. Besides, people don’t normally bring up “well, that’s a girl” out of the blue in everyday conversations.)

Riddle seems to treat Yuuka the same as the gender-neutral Yuu in the game; he still adjusts her tie for her without any flourishes, flinching, etc.

If you read the Episode of Savanaclaw altogether, pretty much all of the characters treat Yuuka like another fellow student and not "oh, this is a woman and a woman has to be treated differently".

Leona stops Savanaclaw mobs from beating up Yuuka and co., but this isn't significant because he does the same for gender-neutral Yuu in the game. It's not "I stopped the guys from hurting a woman" behavior. And get this: Leona still challenges Yuuka and co. to a magift/spelldrive game and he STILL kicks their asses and expects them to get up for more. He doesn't give even Yuuka special treatment or leniency because she is a woman. He wants her to play him again, the same as the other students (who are all guys). It is Jack who has to intervene and stop his dorm leader from bullying Yuuka and co.—but again, this isn’t a change from the game, as Jack always steps in anyway.

Yuuka recognizes Leona as "the garden caretaker" from back when she accidentally stepped on his tail. Unfortunately, we don't get to see if Leona attempted to attack her from this instance. It could be that the manga excluded it because he didn't try or it could be that he did (if the magift/spelldrive demands were of any indication) and the manga just didn't have time to show it in full. Buuut we should also note that Leona makes exceptions to his own... "moral code" when it is convenient for him. For example, he tells his students to not pick on outsiders but then still wails on us through sport. When Yuu steps on his tail in the garden, he says, "Well, can't say it'd be much fun to hurt someone so helpless," but then adds, "Still gonna do it, though."

My point is, this is the closest we'll get to "how would the boys treat a fem!Yuu", and that's what I'll leave you with.

[virtualflowerbatathlete]

Weird opinion nobody asked me for:

Several things can be true at once when talking about Leo’s arc in HOO regarding romance.

NO, Leo did not need to resolve his self esteem issues and insecurities before he started dating. You don’t have to be fully mentally healthy to date someone or be in love (Look at Percabeth! Both of them were a mess when they started dating, but they grow together.) The implication that you need to be fully recovered from any mental illness or trauma before being “allowed” to date is a dangerous one.

BUT it was incredibly disheartening to watch these insecurities lead Leo to being in a relationship where he is not as happy as he hoped he would be, and even in some cases, being abused by a girlfriend who seems almost ashamed to be associated with Leo at all. Calypso’s irritation and snipes at Leo don’t feel at all like when couples like Percabeth or Solangelo tease each other. When Percabeth and Solangelo tease each other, there’s an undercurrent of genuine affection, and also a sense that the two are on even footing in the relationship; Nico can call Will his “significant annoyance,” and Will can call Nico his “little ball of darkness.” Annabeth calls Percy “Seaweed Brain,” and he can call her “Wise Girl.” But there is no even footing with Caleo. Leo is so desperate to make things work with her that he won’t fire back when Calypso insults his interests or personality. The relationship is volatile and imbalanced, and honestly, that feels like a far more tragic ending for Leo than him being single at the end of HOO.

ALSO it was fully possible for Leo to have an arch where he realizes that he doesn’t need romance to be happy, and later getting into a romantic relationship. (Hell, it could even happen in the same book) I deeply resent the takes where people somehow see both these things as mutually exclusive. As an example of this, over time, I learned that grades don’t define who I am, and that I can build my self worth outside of them. That doesn’t mean that I have to give up on getting good grades entirely. What that does mean is that I focus more on learning the material for my own benefit than trying to get the highest score, and strangely enough, my grades started going up. In the case of Leo, a character arc where he learned to love himself and not need a romantic relationship doesn’t mean that he would stop looking for one. Instead, he would seek meaningful connections with the people around him, one of which could bloom into a romantic relationship.

ALSO it would be fully possible for Leo to have this arc while in a romantic relationship with someone. While a partner can’t “fix” you, the people we love can open doors for us to learn and grow. Hell, in the books, we see this demonstrated with Leo and Jason. Leo confides an insecurity, and Jason challenges this insecurity. This causes Leo to think, and thus to grow. Yes, they were not canonically romantic, but my point still stands that this isn’t necessarily a journey Leo would need to do alone. He could have had a romantic partner who helped in his journey of learning to love himself.

ALSO the desire Rick, and by some extension we (the fandom) had in HOO to pair every single character off with their “perfect match” is one that should be questioned. I think that Rick and the fandom have come a long way, and I think TOA really played around with this concept in a very interesting way. But the strange implication I sometimes see is that Leo having no romantic partner must mean that it’s an unsatisfying arc. As an aroace person, the implication that life and stories are only satisfying if the person involved ends up with a romantic partner is disheartening.(I say this as a Valgrace shipper) If your first instinct when hearing a character is single or learning to love being single is to go, “OH GOD, THEY’RE ALL ALONE AND WILL NEVER BE HAPPY! THIS IS THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN FOR THEM!” Maybe, it’s time to examine the implications behind those thoughts.

ALSO shipping is fun and not that serious. If you like a ship, go for it. This is not me telling you not to ship Leo with anyone, as I said, I’m a huge Valgrace fan.

Anywho, if you want more extensive thoughts on Calypso, lemme know. Also feel free to add, I’m sure there’s even more nuance to talk about

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Prologue

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Prologue: Troublesome "Friends"

Summary: Saiki gives everyone the rundown on his "bothers," including (L/N) (Y/N).

Mouse Note: Welcome to A Not-So-Disastrous Romance! I am very excited to share this story with everyone, even if this fandom is very old. Truth be told, I wrote 11 chapters like three years ago, so the first few chapters don't have the level of writing I have now, but I ended up finishing this story and wanted to share it. For another point, I know that people view Saiki as asexual and sometimes aromantic, but I feel an affinity for him being asexual but demi-romantic, so I play it slow-burn. That being said, terrible beginning writing aside, I really hope everyone enjoys. Let me know what you think, commenting helps me keep writing, and I love interacting with people! Welcome to the story!

Quick Key: "Hello" -Saiki speaking telepathically Hello -Saiki thinking "Hello" -regular people talking out loud Hello -regular people thinking

            Saiki teleported to the roof to avoid Teruhashi and Nendou. One was troublesome enough. Two was insupportable.

            “Where’s Saiki? Huh? What’s going?” wondered Teruhashi, confused.

            I teleported without thinking. Saiki looked down at the crowd below him. People around me didn’t seem to notice me, but naturally, Teruhashi thinks something is strange. Well, Teruhashi, just think I was an illusion and forget about it.

            “Nendou!” remarked the pretty blue-haired girl upon seeing him.

            “Oh, wow, Teruhashi!” squeaked Nendou, blushing.

            “Have you seen Saiki?” asked Teruhashi.

            “What? My pal? No, I haven’t.” Nendou was too startled to think.

            N-no way…did he disappear? thought Teruhashi, Is it possible that I was the one seeing an illusion? She recalled what she had assumed of Saiki: “You’re so much in love with me that you see illusions of me, huh?” A light blush spread across her face. Don’t tell me I’m…No! I can’t be… She clutched her heart. Oh, no…What’re these feelings? Is it possible…that I fell in love…with Saiki?

            Oh, wow, thought Saiki as he deadpanned. This is not how he wanted things to go.

            He sighed and teleported to a nearby, empty alleyway. Sighing, he decided to go for a coffee jelly. With the new problem he had just acquired, Saiki decided he might as well enjoy a little bit of peace. He walked quickly in the opposite direction of Nendou and Teruhashi, even if it took him on a long route to Café Mami. For once in his life, he was lucky and didn’t bump into anyone on the way there. His luck ran out, however, as soon as he entered.

            “Saiki!” called a teenager with (H/C) hair and (E/C) eyes. They were grinning and waving.

            He couldn’t avoid them now; it would draw attention to him for being rude. He sighed and sat down across from them.

            This is (Y/N) (L/N). They’re another troublesome person who complicates my life. They even call me their friend and insist I use their first name. The worst part is I can’t read their mind. They aren’t dumb like Nendou, though. Do you see those earrings?

            (Y/N) had simple, metallic studs in their ears.

            They’re made of germanium, which apparently keeps me from seeing through them with my X-ray vision or hearing their thoughts with my telepathy.

            He had only realized this after he saw them during school and on the weekends and the only thing that was the same between the outfits was their earrings. Saiki wished he could get his hands on some germanium. Hearing everybody’s thoughts was tiring. That being said, (Y/N) being unreadable was…disconcerting.

            “Nice to see you, Saiki. Are you here for your usual coffee jelly?” asked (Y/N) cheerfully.

            The pink-haired psychic nodded. Yare yare…Why do I hang out with you?

            “Oh!” They brightened. “I guess since you’re kind of like my guest right now, I should treat you!”

            Saiki’s eyes widened in excitement. Ah, I remember now. (Y/N) treated him to, well, treats. That made them more tolerable than other people.

            Seeing his expression, (Y/N) laughed. They knew what he was excited for. “You’re more excited to see the coffee jelly than to see your friend.” They didn’t mind, though. They knew Saiki wasn’t one for being open or friendly, but they’d spent enough time with him to know he’d just leave if he really didn’t like him.

            He wanted to say that they weren’t friends, but even he had to admit, he thought they were pretty tolerable compared to most of the people who crowded around him. Sure, their bright optimism was sometimes exhausting to Saiki, but for the most part, they were pretty low-maintenance and understood he was an extreme introvert and liked time to himself. Plus, although they were energetic at times, but they understood when things were too much for Saiki. And, to be completely honest, he didn’t mind getting to be around someone he couldn’t hear the thoughts of. He could act like a relatively normal person.

            Saiki would never say all that, though. No way. No, the only thing he’d say was, “Coffee jelly is really good.”

            “Can’t argue with that,” admitted (Y/N).

            Their server, who coincidentally was Mera (probably trying to make money as usual), approached their table. She took their orders and headed to the kitchen to alert the chefs.

            “You look more annoyed than usual, what happened?” asked (Y/N).

            Saiki sighed. They unfortunately pay attention to me and can read parts of my emotions. It’s weird. Maybe they’re an empath. “I ran into Teruhashi.”

            (Y/N) laughed. “The only guy immune to her charms.”

            “She brings too much attention.”

            “You’re friends with Nendou and Kaidou. A bit of attention is inevitable,” teased (Y/N), leaning on their hand and grinning.

            “They’re not my friends.”

            “Uhuh, sure, whatever helps you sleep at night,” chirped (Y/N).

            Mera brought their orders. Luckily, she hadn’t stolen a bite from either of the coffee jellies.

            “Mmmm,” hummed (Y/N) and Saiki contentedly at the taste.

            Peaceful relaxation with (Y/N). Just the way I like it. Saiki sighed happily.

Taglist:

@elaemae

@painstakingly-juno

@characterreaderwriter

@melovepurple

@sleep-7372

@w0mank1sser

@geminigengar

@noodleryworld

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Evan “Buck” Buckley: Belt 

This is my first Buck and 911 story! I'm so excited to be writing for a new fandom! If this is what brought you to me welcome!

This was inspired by complete brain rot. I couldn’t get it out of my head so I had to write it down. I’ve been catching up so I can watch the new season of 911! Damn, Buck just does something to me. Is anyone else hoping for buddie to be canon this season? I wish I could keep him for myself but if he does have to pair off with someone it better be Eddie. 

You were known to get yourself into strange and interesting situations. You blamed it on your big mouth and openness about discussing pretty much anything without thought. Usually when people had trauma, they kept it close to the vest but you weren’t ashamed of what had shaped you. Normal taboos like mental health, past trauma, and sex were easy for you to talk about. Giving voice to things took away their power.  

This situation wasn’t one you thought you would find yourself in. Sitting in a chair trying to teach Javi how to belt handcuffs and to start foreplay in a more dominant way. When he told everyone he had a date, you had been excited for him and asked about her. When he told you she was a shy introvert who liked to read things like Haunting Adeline, Den of Vipers, and Credence you hadn’t been able to hold your laughter. 

His confusion was immediate and between laughs, you had told him to look up the books to see what they were about. His reaction had been priceless. You had tried to calm him down telling him the belt or tie trick would work on any book girly. A few TikTok thirst traps later he looked more concerned than when you had started.  

That is what had landed you in the chair in front of him. You had shown him how to loop the belt into handcuffs and pull them tight. Javi knew how to do it but was just struggling with the sass of the move. He would put your hands in the belt but he was so gentle that the movement seemed awkward instead of sexy. “Alright, I’m calling it. I’m just not getting this.”  

“Javi, it’s getting a lot better. You just need a little more...” You pause trying to think of the right word. You had been giving him corrections and he had been doing better but you were struggling to give him the right feedback.  

“More attitude,” You both look up to see Buck just a few feet away. He looks at you and requests, “May I?” Your brows furrow together but give him a deceive nod. You weren’t close with Buck but with frequenting the firehouse you knew each other well enough. He was an attractive man and you wouldn’t complain about having him in your space. 

Buck's long legs ate up the distance between the two of you while one hand undid his belt buckle using his other hand to yank it out of the loops with a snap. His hands easily formed the belt into two loops for the makeshift handcuffs. You held your wrists out willingly. He stepped even closer his tall frame overshadowing you, his legs brushing yours. You could smell the spice of his aftershave, the warmth of his body making heat flood through your lower stomach and up your body.  

He briefly looked down to slide the leather belt over your wrist but otherwise, his blue eyes stayed locked on yours. You couldn’t look away. Then in one fluid movement, he pulled the belt tight, the leather biting just enough into your wrist, as he pulled your hands up and over your head and back towards your shoulders. You inhaled sharply your body naturally arching up. Buck was leaning down enough that your breast brushed his chest. Your nipples hardening in your bra. You pull reflexively against the hold but Buck holds a firm resistance and your hands don’t move. 

His face is only inches from yours and you can feel the warmth of his minty breath. The rough fingertips of his other hand caress from your chin up your cheek to push your hair back and out of your face tucking them behind your ear. Your heart is pounding in your chest and your breath is coming out in pants. His nose grazes your ever so slightly.  

You think he is planning on kissing you. Your lips part eager for his kiss. Ready for his taste on your tongue. You are disappointed when instead you feel cold as his body heat is pulled farther from you. You look up at his retreating figure with hooded eyes. But his attention has turned to Javi. “You don’t want to hurt them- I get that. But women aren’t as fragile as you think. You want to put just enough force behind it to surprise them- catch their attention. Give them the feeling of being completely under your control. Not so they feel powerless but so they can let go.”  

Buck’s name is called from another room and he doesn’t even glance back at you as he quickly strides out of the room. “After watching that I think I know what I am doing wrong. Can we go again?” Javi’s voice pulls you out of your head. You shake your head as you slowly bring your hands back up in front of you. Your movements are shaky as you start to pull at the belt Buck had left tight around your wrists. 

“Yeah,” You breathe out finally getting the leather loose. You try not to press your thighs together as you feel the wetness in your panties and the now throbbing ache in your core. You need a minute. A long minute. “Let me just go to the bathroom first.”  

[annalacerda17]

So, I was thinking about how it seems like a huge part of the MDZS fandom has really poor reading comprehension, and I came to the conclusion that that's true, but also, that CQL is partly to blame for rampant misinterpretation of several characters. I think people who came to this fandom through CQL and only read the book afterwards (or not at all) are more likely to have formed certain opinions that are very different from what the book says.

When it comes to CQL, I think basically the entire pre-timeskip part of it is a mess. First off, the relationship between Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng is totally different. CQL insisted on inserting Jiang Cheng in places where he wasn't needed, they made up that disgusting romance between him and Wen Qing - like, book! Wen Qing wouldn't spare him a second glance. She literally saw him throwing tantrums left and right like a total toddler for a while, and she'd never consider him a potential love interest, she saw right through the pretentious prick- and to me that's made all the more horrific when we consider their actual relationship in the book: Wen Qing saved Jiang Cheng's life after Wen Ning had already taken huge risks to rescue him and she helped him hide and evade the Wens, she gave him medical care, which is already a huge favor if we don't take into account the core-transfer surgery, which Jiang Cheng didn't know Wen Qing was a the surgeon of (he did know, however, that Wei Wuxian was the one who helped him get a new golden core, so he doesn't get a pass there). But in return, Jiang Cheng refused to help her and her people after the war, and worse, he joined hands with the Jin sect in order to destroy his savior and her people. But CQL inserted a romance there????

Still on Wen Qing, CQL made her somewhat complicit - even if reluctantly so - in Wen Rouhan's evil schemes by making her go to the Cloud Recesses as a Spy. This plot didn't exist in the book at all. But what this does is to blame her for how the sects treated the Wen remnants after the war. This muddies the waters in a truly terrible way,when in the book it's very clear who is the victim and who are the perpetrators.

Then, there's the actor who played Jiang Cheng, and I don't know if he just chose how he wanted to act this character or if he was instructed to act this way, but the Jiang Cheng in CQL very strange. I think they interpreted the character as that misunderstood poor baby that his stans think he is, and that's how he is portrayed in all of the CQL-only scenes. But when he appears in a scene that's from the novel, he is portrayed as he is in the novel - a selfish, self-centered, angry, and violent man. So I can see how someone who first met this character in CQL might've come out of it confused about what this character is like, because the Jiang Cheng portrayed in CQL is inconsistent.

CQL definitely played up the "friendship" between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian, which was mostly done in the beginning, before the sects' disciples were made into hostages by the Wens. Up until that point, their relationship is portrayed like a normal friendship and when Jiang Yanli is inserted, it sometimes does look like a brotherhood. Especially in the Cloud Recesses arc and later when they go chase the pieces of Yin Tiger Tally. However, that's not how their relationship is portrayed in the novel, and that whole arc of chasing the Yin Tiger Tally is non-existent, because in the novel it's Wei Wuxian who creates the Yin Tiger Tally, and it works differently from what's shown in CQL anyway. In fact, everything about Wei Wuxian's cultivation is completely different in CQL.

Then, after Lotus Pier was attacked, we stared to get a few glimpses of book Jiang Cheng. But even then it was mixed with a lot of crying and toddler like tantrums that even the book version of Jiang Cheng - who also loves to play the victim no matter how unreasonable it might be - would feel embarrassed.

Only at the first siege of the burial mounds do we get a more book like version of Jiang Cheng - a murderous asshole - and even that is framed in an ambiguous way. Like, remember that scene in CQL where Wei Wuxian falls down that cliff? A lot of people thought Jiang Cheng had hit the stone (with his sword) on purpose, and that he hadn't meant to kill Wei Wuxian. Now, I personally think it's quite obvious that Jiang Cheng was, in fact, trying to kill Wei Wuxian, and the book tells us that that's what he did during the first siege of the burial mounds, although that didn't involve a cliff, but I also think that for someone whose first contact with this character came from CQL, they might look at this and think of that first part of the story, where their "friendship" was played up a lot, and then look at the actors crying face, and reach the wrong conclusion. I think the portrayal of Jiang Cheng is awful. The actor only showed 2 expressions throughout: moderately happy or angry-crying. That can make it difficult for the audience to discern what emotion they are supposed to see there.

Then, by the end, they inserted that line where Jiang Cheng thinks of Wei Wuxian and says "live well" with a nostalgic smile on his face. Where did that come from????

Moving on, CQL is also responsible for spreading the idea that Wei Wuxian had depression or that he was suicidal. This i don't think is the fault of the actor, because he was clearly told to act this way. But CQL tried to make the story a lot more angsty in general, maybe to make up for the lack of an explicit romance. Although I have to give them credit for making sure everyone who watched it knew without a shadow of doubt that wangxian was a couple, despite censorship.

CQL also downplayed Wei Wuxian's genius. This to me was a poor choice. I understand that they had to make some changes when it came to Wei Wuxian's cultivation because of censorship, but I'm sure they could've done it ia a way that didn't take away his accomplishments.

Another thing that I blame CQL for is the abominable existence of the XiYao ship, or at least for it's popularity. First, they inserted Jin Guangyao into the Cloud Recesses arc, then they played up all of his interactions with Lan Xichen, and framed it how we would typically see a romantic couple's relationship develop in most dramas. I think this gave a lot of viewers the idea that Jin Guangyao liked Lan Xichen first, but then became corrupt as the story progressed. However, in the book, Jin Guangyao had been manipulating and using Lan Xichen from the beginning. Their relationship has much more of a sinister feel to it from the beginning in the books.

Anyway, right now I can't think of any other problem brought into the fandom by CQL, but I'm sure there's a lot more. My brain is tired now, so I'll stop here.

[gb-patch]

Sorry to send another ask amongst the sea I'm sure you're receiving, but I find myself more concerned about Rose being a sensitivity reader as I find more information. One of Rose's friends continues to insist that the conversation about Tamarack and male MCs was part of a larger discussion about biphobia in the fandom. However, they claim that Rose's position is "people erase Tam's bi/pansexuality by refusing to portray [her] as being attracted to anything other than men." This explanation of Rose's belief is, in-and-of-itself, biphobic. It claims that portraying Tamarack as attracted to men erases her queerness. This is textbook biphobia and bi-erasure that I as a bisexual encounter every day. It is NOT a good-faith defense of a queer character. It reduces us down to our partners and makes the claim that if we end up in a relationship that's "straight-passing," we're erasing our queerness. Especially as a bi sapphic myself, it reduces my identity strictly to the perceived-man I'm dating, and not my inner or previous experiences, or those of my partner. It's very uncomfortable that Rose, a non-bisexual, was discussing this like they're defending Tamarack's queerness when they're doing the opposite.

This is a doubly strange position when Our Life is a game about the acceptance of love in all its forms. The conversation could be different, MAYBE, if Our Life was a TV show or a book or a comic. But this is a game where people are meant to play as characters of their own design. I do not feel confident about Rose being a sensitivity reader for a game with bi/pansexual love interests if these are their beliefs about bi/pansexuality, particularly if they're unable to adapt their opinions to be relevant to different formats of media; this shows they're lacking in skill in the areas of media literacy and critical thinking.

I’ve been trying to make a post that presents the concerns people have about this, but your ask touches on the points I was going to, and I’d say it’s better to have it said by a player than me deciding what people are thinking. So, this is something that I want to make clear- that I see this and other asks/comments about it. What you’ve said is something a lot of people are unsure and upset about. I am sorry that you feel so out of place in this community now. And I am also sorry to players of any sexuality who use a male MC. That comment dismissed players and Tamarack’s identity.

It did come from a longer discussion about bi-phobia issues. The overall feelings were “if people did only want Tamarack to be interested in men, I really wouldn’t like that and wouldn’t it be a funny concept if Tamarack then left them for a woman?”. The comment itself didn’t encompass that idea at all. It does not give a good impression about where they’re coming from. It was unkind.

The viewpoint Rose is trying to have isn’t that “Tamarack can never express an interest in men” which would be wrong, it’s “I stand by the fact that Tamarack is someone who wouldn’t only be interested in men and no one else”. If it’s true that Rose likes Tamarack being interested in all genders and doesn’t want her bi-ness to be forgotten, I’d say that’s an acceptable view. If the point actually is that Tamarack should only be with women and if she’s not than Tamarack is no longer bi or she’s a bad character, then you're right- that isn't acceptable and that is going to get someone removed from the project. I do believe Rose agrees with what you’re saying and means it when they say they want to stop bi-erasure, not participate in it for real. But they had a very harsh way of talking about it.

I understand that people don’t know Rose and this situation has made them believe they do seriously hold that first view. But from working with them, there’s never been any feedback that shows an opinion of the sort.

Right now, I think that comment was being edgy and making a quick, very poorly-worded quip to people they’d been chatting with about that topic already. Rose has left the GB Patch discord servers, they used to be a mod, and may or may not ever be back in there. Rose won’t make blog posts responding to players going forward. They’re going to take a break from this and then try to give helpful feedback. We’re going to see if things can be okay from here.

And with this coming up, we’re all really aware that it’s something to consider about the game. I’m going to be as conscious as I can for any advice that seems to go against the character’s identities and I’m going to question my own knee-jerk choices for how I handle things. Other sensitivity readers will be able to give their viewpoints as well, so will the players. If the game’s content isn’t welcoming or is biased people will notice, and I’ll be here to accept what I’ve done. I don’t want that to be the result of this, of course. I hope the game will be thoughtful and considerate, but I can’t fire Rose at this point to try doing that.

No one has to keep following the game, though. I’m sympathetic to anyone who is too uncomfortable with all this to stay around.

[twistmusings]

Character Analysis of the Twisted Wonderland Dorm Rooms - Heartslabyul

Not my usual content, exactly, but I thought this was interesting while I was researching for one of my upcoming posts!

Though the characters are in dormitories, they actually show really great characterization in the way they organize and lay out their rooms.

Long and with lots of images, so they are put under a cut.

Dorm Room Character Analysis Series

Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle has a lot of books. As in, so many that they aren't able to be contained to the larger bookshelf provided to the Dorm Leader. They have been stacked on top, as well as used to fill the smaller bookshelf to the left and stacked on top of that as well, and then also throughout the rest of the room. Little man is the highest ranking member of the library's readers club.

It is of note that Riddle's dorm is not as organized as you might think at first glance. I know a lot of people look at Riddle and oftentimes peg him as being the hyper-organized person with seems to be impossibly able to maintain how many tasks he has to balance. While that's not entirely untrue, and his room is far from messy, he does have books left open on his ottoman and stacked up on his nightstand that he was, most likely, reading in bed. His single framed art in his room is hung crookedly - and this is not a stylistic choice for the Heartslabyul dorm as some of the strange furniture. Both Deuce and Cater have similar wall decorations, but they are not hung crookedly.

Riddle is the only character to have a repeated motif of a broken heart in his decorations in Heartslabyul. Given what all we know about him and his history with his mother, this is fitting, if a little sad. Little details like this make me love to look at these rooms because you can see so much of how the designers considered the characters and their stories when designing their rooms.

Riddle also has a bouquet in a vase of Roses and White Lillies. While Red roses are a rather obvious motif throughout Heartslabyul, White Lillies are thought to symbolize purity, commitment, and rebirth. These are all strong character themes in Riddle's story.

Ace Trappola

We know that Ace likes card trick, as he learned them from his older brother, but I feel like it gets a little lost on a lot of the fandom that he likes magic tricks in general unless you pay close attention to his room card. He's got a magic wand, magic cups, and magic balls.

He likes basketball enough that he has an entire book dedicated to basketball and a hoop installed in his room.

He either has a spare dorm uniform jacket, or when he's in his room he takes off his uniform jacket and just walks around in the patterned vest and t-shirt. It's also possible, given that his brother was also assigned to Heartslabyul, that it's a hand-me-down jacket from his elder brother.

Ace has a card motif throughout his room, which is a cute touch considering he's based on one of the card soldiers. More than likely, it's because he does like card tricks and games. Of note, he also has a little callback to Deuce being his friend in his spade side table and the rest of his dorm as his rug features the Ace of Hearts, Spades, Diamonds, and Clubs.

Ace's desk doesn't seem to see a lot of use, considering that he has a tower of cards on it, which are notorious for being fragile and falling apart with too much movement. Given that we know in canon he doesn't like to study all that much, it makes sense - more than likely he built it while avoiding studying and then it hasn't been jostled because he hasn't really used his desk since.

Both Ace and Deuce (coming up) have not added personalized bedsheets to their bed as opposed to the rest of their dorm, and they're both freshmen,

As has been pointed out before, Deuce shares a room with Ace.

Deuce, of course, has magic wheel posters on his wall.

Deuce's desk is well used, and he has additional bookshelves hung on his wall. Deuce has notes sticking out of some of his books. He also seems to have a book on ducks and either cats/grim (it could be a book on magical beasts, but it's an interesting detail to add). - see addendum!

Deuce has a framed photo on his desk. I would guess this is probably a family photo of him and his mom, though I cannot confirm this.

Deuce has a jacket hanging on his wall, and while at first glance it might be easy to assume it's a PE Jacket or a Track Jacket, it doesn't match the NRC track uniform or PE uniform. This, actually, based on the cut, seems to be a motorcycle jacket, likely for riding magic wheels. It could also be something leftover from his delinquent days.

Cater's room is actually full of characterization, there are so many little details in his room it isn't funny.

To begin with, it seems like Cater's favorite color might be Orange, given that he's the only one in his dorm so far who has a noticable amount of it that breaks away from the normal Heartslabyul colors. This, of course, could be a design choice because Cater's hair is ginger, but consider that across the board it seems like quite a bit of thought was put into what goes into a character's room. Ace, for example, doesn't feature orange in the same way, and Deuce only features a small bit of blue in his rug. If someone was decorating a room, the likely reason to have so much of one color is because you really like that color, or because it matches the theme of a room. Since we know the latter isn't true, it's likely the former. Orange, symbolically, is often used to portray enthusiasm, agreeableness, and excitement when talking about color symbolism, and that tracks as that's the sort of image that Cater tends to display toward other people even if his own emotions are complex in canon.

Cater has a lot of hobbies in his room - which makes sense because canonically he does a lot of various hobbies. Cater is the sort of person who seems to be deeply into experimenting with who he is and who he wants to be.

Though Cater takes a lot of photos with his phone camera in the story, he also has what appears to be a DSLR camera.

He, of course, shows his love of music by having a small stereo, his guitar, and a pair of headphones next to his computer.

Speaking of Cater's computer, it takes up the majority of his desk, which is fitting for someone who wants to be an influencer.

Cater has a sweater at the ready on the back of his chair, leading me to believe he probably gets cold easily.

Cater also has a skateboard. I don't recall Cater ever talking about skateboarding in canon, but it's possible I missed it. Regardless, he has one - whether or not he can use it is a different story entirely.

Faces on everything. Similar to Ace, Cater's rug is a callback to all of his dormmates, though he also has a couple of emoji-like pillows/plushies. Emojis, of course, are a hallmark of digital communications so it fits with his character, though they are notably cheery and cute. I have to wonder how Cater's decor might be different if he was more honest about how he feels as opposed to playing a character most of the time.

Trey's room, similar to Cater, keeps in with having a notable color scheme with the color green. Again, this is the same color as his hair, however as was the reasoning was explained with Cater, this likely means that Green is Trey's favorite color. Green is a color associated with harmony, focus, efficiency and security.

Trey's room is notably more sparsely decorated than the other students. Most of the Heartslabyul cast have something - a photo hanging up, a unique piece of furniture, etc, however Trey really only has his hat stand. If you were to consider Cater one end of a spectrum that leans maximalist, Trey is the opposite, leaning much more minimalist.

It's also of note that Trey is probably the most organized person we've seen so far, even surpassing Riddle. His books are all kept in vertical rows, he has a pen holder on his desk, and he has a hat-stand to keep his hats. Everything in his room has a place, and there is no notable clutter.

Given that we know that Trey likes to bake, he probably doesn't spend much of his free time in his room, which is likely part of why it's so sparsely decorated outside the bed.

Similar to how Ace has a callback to Deuce, and how Deuce has a callback to Grim, Trey's rug is a clover that is divided into the shape of hearts, which is Riddle's motif, and a cute callback to them being childhood friends.

Addendums:

Several people have pointed things out in the comments, so I figured that I would go ahead and add them to this main post as well as they come in.

@margorako has pointed out that the jacket in Decue's room is indeed his jacket he wore during his delinquent days. As was featured in the Twisted Wonderland Manga. I thought it looked familiar, but this confirms that a) it's a magic wheel jacket, and b) that it is embroidered on the back. Great eye!

@eternalsnowfan02 mentioned that Cater does indeed skateboard, as is confirmed in his Union Jacket Birthday card when Jamil purchases him stickers for his skateboard. This means he is, in fact, a Skater Boy.

@xhazmia Pointed out that the book that features a head that appears to be Grim's Head is actually likely the hidden mickey for Deuce's room. Good eye! My vision is bad™ so I'm not usually the best for picking these out in the bedrooms in TWST. I managed to spot a few in the other rooms where they were pretty obvious though:

I have not managed to spot the one for Trey's room, but in looking closer I did notice something else.

This object on Trey's bookshelf is a glasses container, lending further to the notion that he's the most organized of the characters in Heartslabyul.

[set-wingedwarrior]

My most important sapphic ships post before Pride Month ends

What the title says, studying kept (and still keeps me) busy so we gotta go fast lol

Bumbleby (RWBY)

to the surprise of absolutely no one, they get first place (despite me not going in a particular order) because of reasons. They're perfect. Soulmates. Slowburn of all time. Yin and Yang. Eyes the color of each other's souls. Truest OTP to ever OTP in my book. ∞/10

Konosetsu (Negima!)

I already talked about them in their own post, this scene changed my life leading to my self-discovery and it still lives rent-free in my mind.

Kyosaya (Madoka Magica)

I'd also add MadoHomu but I'm trying to keep it to just one for each fandom. That said, they still make me mentally unwell. I love them, and I did for a long time now. I can't wait for the next movie to come out and suffer.

Ruby and Sapphire (Steven Universe)

These bitches had the first cartoon gay wedding and kiss DO I NEED TO SAY MORE???

Korrsami (Avatar)

Still down the queer cartoons making history path, these two made me insane back in the day because I still didn't understand I was queer and lots of sapphic couple were starting to appear in media, and I remember jokingly say how "lesbian ships were hauting me". All I can say now is "Thank you" lol. Anyway, they were incredibly important and all the people criticizing how little queerness there's in the show will never understand just how massive this scene was.

Catradora (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)

Friends to Enemies to back to Friends to Lovers. Iconic. I still want a movie with their adventures bringing magic back to the universe.

Hollstein (Carmilla)

My third beloved blonde with a cat gf ship. I miss this web-series every day. Also, Natasha Negovanlis played an immense role in my gay awakening.

Ellie and Riley (The Last of Us: Left Behind)

Ellie and Dina are adorable and I love them, BUT I just will never get over these two. That dlc fucked me up. (also, they're in the same category with Korrasami as "gay ships that hauted me before I realized I was queer" lol)

Lumity (The Owl House)

I remember starting this show feeling it as the successor of Steven Universe, at least to me. We could say that at level of mistreatment from its parent company, it defenitely surpassed it, but at least I'm glad I was right and we got Luz and Amity becoming canon. I love these two and not a day passes without me yelling at Disney for what it did to them.

Bubbline (Adventure Time)

I actually watched Adventure Time fully only recently, but I always loved them even when I watched the show randomly when it appeared in tv back in the day. Getting to see the progression properly just made me love them even more.

Yasammy (Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous/Chaos Theory)

Incredibly recent addition, but I am so glad that I checked out Camp Cretaceous and got into it. It's a nice show and these two are a really cute couple, their confession and especially Yaz's internal turmoil were just so on point. I was really happy to see them go still strong in Chaos Theory, and I can't wait for next season.

Pricefield (Life is Strange)

These two caused me pain in the best possible way. I felt literal heartbreak at the Bay Ending, and I was just as emotional at the Bae one (Bae > Bay Forever) I hope the new game will respect their relationship OR ELSE.

Wow, this is quite the list. I do have an amazing taste, if I do say so myself, ahah!

Well, I guess this is it for now, glad I could make it before Pride Month was over! Knowing myself I might have actually forgotten some though, so keep an eye out for possible updates (what makes me even think that you'd care? lol).

That would be all, be gay and do crimes! Bye!

[bluelavendre]

**Title: "Bound by Obsession"**

Fandom: BTS

Pairing: Yandere Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Dark, Romance, Psychological

Warnings: Obsessive behavior, stalking, manipulation, dark themes

---

You had always thought Jungkook was the perfect blend of warmth and mystery. He was sweet, almost too perfect, with a smile that could melt anyone's heart. But that was before you realized how far his affection for you truly went.

---

It started innocently enough. A shared glance across the room during a BTS interview, a brief interaction in the hallways of the agency. At first, you thought nothing of it. Jungkook was kind to everyone. You weren't special.

But then, the subtle signs began to show.

He started lingering near you, his eyes always watching from afar. Whenever your eyes met, there was this intense, almost unholy focus in his gaze. His smile was different, more intense than you had ever seen, as if it held a secret he was dying to share with you… but never would. The way he would appear "coincidentally" at the same places you were, making it seem like fate or mere coincidence.

And then, one day, he spoke.

"You're always so... alone."

You blinked in surprise, not knowing how to respond. You hadn’t realized he had been watching you so closely. You smiled awkwardly, brushing it off.

“I… I guess I am. I like to have some time to myself.”

He nodded, but there was something strange in his eyes—something possessive, almost hungry.

“I think you’d be happier if you didn’t have to be alone all the time,” Jungkook said softly. “I could... keep you company, if you wanted. I don’t mind. I’m always around.”

There was an intensity in his voice that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

But you brushed it off. He was Jungkook, after all. He was kind, he was sweet. You convinced yourself you were imagining things, that he was just being a good friend.

---

Days turned into weeks, and his behavior grew more erratic.

Jungkook would appear at your favorite coffee shop, as if by chance. He would show up at the gym you frequented, always with that quiet, knowing smile that made your heart race. He’d send you messages that seemed innocent enough, at first.

*"Hey, what are you doing tonight?"*

*"I saw you looking at that new book. I got you a copy."*

*"I’m on my way to pick you up. Don’t worry, I’ll be there soon."*

You didn’t remember inviting him anywhere. You didn’t ask for any of it.

At first, you thought it was sweet—maybe even flattering. But when he started showing up at your door without warning, you began to feel a sense of dread creeping up your spine.

One evening, you were watching TV alone in your apartment when you heard a knock on the door. Thinking it was a delivery, you opened it without hesitation.

There, standing in the hallway, was Jungkook. His usual smile was gone, replaced with something darker, more intense.

“I was worried about you,” he said softly, stepping inside without waiting for permission. “You’ve been so distant lately.”

You took a step back, trying to process what was happening. “Jungkook, what are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” His voice was soothing, almost too soothing. “I don’t like seeing you upset. You’re mine to protect, you know?”

You froze. The words seemed innocent, but there was a dark undertone that sent shivers down your spine. The way he said “mine” made your chest tighten. It wasn’t the possessiveness of a lover, but the claim of someone who felt entitled to you.

“I—I’m fine, Jungkook. Really. You should go.”

But he didn’t move. Instead, his gaze darkened, his jaw tightening. “I don’t want to go. Not when I’m the only one who truly cares about you. You don’t need anyone else.”

“Jungkook, this isn’t healthy,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

His eyes flashed. “I don’t need anyone else either. Just you.”

Before you could react, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with alarming strength. “You belong to me. I can’t let anyone else take you away.”

A panic blossomed in your chest, but before you could do anything, he pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly as though trying to make you understand something you were too scared to comprehend.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll protect you from everyone. I’m the only one who knows you. I’m the only one who truly understands.”

You trembled in his grip, the realization hitting you like a wave. The Jungkook you thought you knew wasn’t the person standing before you. This Jungkook was someone else—a man whose love had twisted into something dark and consuming. His affection wasn’t love. It was obsession.

---

The days that followed were filled with confusion and fear. You tried to distance yourself from him, but it was impossible. He always found a way to insert himself into your life, always watching from the shadows, always waiting for the perfect moment to “rescue” you.

He would show up at your work, pretend to be a concerned friend, and “accidentally” overhear your conversations. When you tried to tell others, they just looked at you like you were crazy. “It’s Jungkook,” they’d say. “He’s harmless.”

But you knew the truth. You could see it in his eyes—the desperation, the mania. And no one else seemed to understand.

He began to leave little gifts in your apartment—things you hadn’t asked for. A lock of your hair, a t-shirt you’d forgotten at his place. Things that made your blood run cold. It was like he was trying to leave traces of himself everywhere, marking you as his, so no one else would dare to take you from him.

---

One night, you woke up to find him sitting at the edge of your bed, watching you sleep. His dark eyes gleamed in the dim light of your room.

“I told you,” he whispered, “you don’t have to be alone. I’ll never leave you.”

And you realized, with a sickening jolt in your stomach, that you weren’t sure if you could ever escape him.

Jungkook wasn’t just a man in love. He was a man who had become addicted to the idea of you—and there was no way out.

No way but to give in.

[queers-gambit]

The Black Dread part three

prompt: after word is sent for Dragonseeds to raise up, you shockingly claim The Black Dread. knowing your stance would all but determine the war, both Alicent and Rhaenyra send emissaries to persuade your allegiance through means of marriage. when tragedy strikes, you fly to war. -> in this part - you and Aemond get to know one another.

pairing: Jacaerys 'Jace' Velaryon x female!Tyrell!reader pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!Tyrell!reader -> hair color specified reader -> technically Targaryen!reader -> ALL characters aged 18+

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

series masterlist:The Black Dread < < < previous part, part two: read here > > > next part, part four: read here

word count: 4k+

note: ALL characters are aged up - they are NOT minors

warnings: it's not much!!! cursing, ye ol’ flirting without chaperones, temptation / feelings are hard, romance, small angst, eavesdropping, men being gossipy little cunts who talk shit, broken family dynamics, we see a little more into big!sister!reader, depiction of medical phenomenons to a child.

Monday -

Eyme had been your lady's maid for years now, to the point the pair of you had formed an intimate relationship. Granted, Alora had been your closest companion since childhood, Eyme was close to an additional guardian; a kind and sweet soul that helped guide you through life. This mornings, she stood behind you, brushing your hair, watching you in the vanity mirror as you could not hide the deepening thoughts that melted your brain.

Even if not so obvious, she could read you like a book.

"You ready for today, dearie?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, as I'll ever be," you mused, finding her gaze over your shoulder.

"Who is it you'll see today?"

"Prince Aemond. It's strange, you know? Picking between two Princes of the Realm when I was run out and humiliated during courting seasons at the Red Keep. What a rush, finding a husband the old fashion way; by being a bargaining chip in war," you mocked with a roll of your eyes.

She chuckled, securing the long, golden-red tresses, "No, the Gods were saving you for this moment. You'll turn the tides, my darling, in this war, in history, in the Targaryen lineage - "

"What does that mean?"

Eyme sighed, "We both know the rumors, darling girl. About the Black Queen's sons?"

You waved her off, "Oh, that's petty business - not our own."

"I'm just saying, you will change a lot of fates with your choice between the Princes."

"That's pressure I never imagined."

"You will make a handsome match to either," she assured softly. Eyme tied off your hair, fixed minimal make-up over your skin, and helped you dress in something comfortable with sensible shoes. Just outside your door, your usual household guardsman, Bryer, escorted you to your father's old office chambers to go over accounts for the day with Maester Keiff Foral.

It was there Aemond found you.

"I do not mean to interrupt," the Prince stopped short in the doorway, "I was a bit turned around - I can leave, if you could direct me - "

"No need, my Prince, please, come in," Maester Foral insisted, taking up several tomes and scrolls. "I'm on my way out, please sit. Could I send some tea up?"

"That would be nice, thank you, Maester," you agreed, shuffling a few accounts on the grand desk you sat at. "My Prince, I must apologize, unfortunately, being Lady of the House does not come with days off."

He hummed, "I understand that. Is now a bad time, my Lady?"

"No, you are most welcomed," you gestured him forward. "I need but a few moments to clean this up - "

"Take your time," Aemond smirked gently. "I had an idea, in fact, that might be of interest? Since you're in this clerical mindset?"

"Oh? I would like to hear it."

"Would you say you are proficient in High Valyrian? Being a Dragon Rider and all?"

You chuckled dryly, nodding, "Uh, well, no, I only know but a few words, and even those, I murder the pronunciation."

"Would you like to learn?"

"I need to," you nodded, "but it is also a personal desire of mine, yes."

"Is it too forward to ask if I could interest you in but a few lessons?"

There was a knock at the door as you left paperweights on the few stacks of parchment you had been reviewing, calling, "Come in!"

"My Lady," Eyme spoke softly, entering with a tray of tea, "Maester Foral sent me."

"Thank you, Eyme. But I think we might take this in the library, yes?" You asked Aemond, standing from your seat.

"Yes, if that's acceptable," he nodded, following your lead.

"Oh?" Eyme asked, scurrying out the door when Aemond held it open for you both.

"The Prince is kind enough to offer me lessons in High Valyrian."

"How nice," Eyme complimented, leading the way down the corridors. "Gods know you could use the lessons, she sounds like a drowning cat, my Prince - "

"I do not!"

"You have the attention span of a passing squirrel! It'd be a miracle if you could focus!"

Aemond found your relationship with 'the help' strangely cozy, something he wasn't sure how to feel about. He did not comment and instead smiled politely, but mostly just listened to the two of you bicker lovingly and wondering what kind of Princess of the Realm would speak so candidly to the commoners. The One-Eyed Prince reminded himself that the Tyrells weren't prominent in court and still considered 'low born', trying to cut you some slack when he accounted for your lack of royal decorum.

In the library, Aemond's nose turned up ever so slightly at the - by comparison to that of the Red Keep - minuscule space and minimal literary options. You and Eyme set up the tea at a table as he browsed the limited selection, doing his best not to literally pet a finger over the wood and through the dust. He heard you dismiss your handmaiden and asked over his shoulder, "Are you sure about these lessons, my Lady?"

"Why would I not be, my Prince? I ride a Dragon of Old Valyria, do I not?" You quipped.

"Yes, but it would appear your selection is vastly... Limited," he frowned, gesturing at the shelf he inspected. "It would seem you do not have... Anything on the subject at all."

"I've already pulled the literature," you told him smugly, his hair fanning around his shoulders as he turned to look at you in what appeared to be surprise. He discovered your fists on the table, candles arrayed for ample lighting, and stacks of books spaced out around you, the teapot, and cups.

"I see," He smirked in return, making his way back towards the table. "Is there a reason you've already arranged them?"

"In truth, I might be one of the few who frequents the library anymore," you shrugged, gesturing him to a seat. "And with my new acquaintanceship with Balerion, I've been the only one with need to refresh their memory on the histories of Valyria."

Aemond hummed and gazed over the spines of the books, nodding before making a selection. "I'm familiar with this volume. It's a good introduction," he opened the book with a rickety spine.

"That's been read," you eased, pointing to the pile he chose from, "those have all been read, actually."

"Very good," he nodded, storing his selection and turning for the other pile. You realized how much you liked his praise. "Anything you wish to disclose before we dive in?" The Prince distracted your rampant thoughts.

"I'm familiar with the histories, it's the language and pronunciations that I struggle with."

"It's not a language for the faint of heart."

"So I've discovered. I've oft heard it said immersion is the best educator, yet none in these parts can speak enough for me to practice with."

Aemond nodded, "Well... Should you choose to return with me to King's Landing, there's plenty to practice with."

"Oh?" You chuckled.

"Well... At least there's me," he purred, making a new selection and pulling the book closer. "Here we are," Aemond opened it, careful of the fragile pages. "This is good for what you need to know with Balerion."

You leaned forward on the table, smiling gently and listening intently; following his finger over the inked words on parchment as he began his lesson. In the candlelight, shadows contoured his face in an eerily handsome cast.

Wednesday -

It was difficult to remain so unbiased when both Princes were bringing their A-game; and it seemed, Aemond honed in on your lack of Targaryen experience to romance you with your birthrights. On Monday, Aemond had spent hours with you in the library, pouring over old tomes; patient in his lesson, trying to ensure you knew basic and important commands for when riding Balerion. And now, he was ushering you off the Keep's grounds to where the dragons were planted outside the gates.

"I must confess, I'm a bit nervous. Where are we going?" You laughed gently, the ground still slippery from early morning dew.

"For a flying lesson."

"Oh, no, no - I've only rode once and I'm fairly certain I blacked out for most of it."

"I can see why," Aemond mused, approaching the great ebony beast resting in the valley, "you don't even have a saddle, what terrible discomfort."

"Oh, well, I've sent ravens to King's Landing, asking any saddlery of his left be sent."

"Good," he praised, petting over the hand you had curled around his bicep. "He's... Larger than I would've imagined."

"He's a sweetie - " And of course, in that moment, Balerion lifted his head and bared his teeth in warning. You yanked Aemond to a halt, "But also conversationally temperamental."

"I was merely curious to see him with my own eyes," Aemond admitted. "He's greatly impressive."

You smiled, "Gorgeous, no?"

"I'd say."

"Did we come all this way to gawk at him, or...?"

"No, no," Aemond cleared his throat, "I thought perhaps I could tempt you into a flight on Vhagar. She's the closest thing in size and speed to Balerion, thought it might be good practice."

"You mean...?"

"By yourself? No, no, I'll be there, but yes, you'll need to know how to fly."

"I'm sure I could figure it out. Right?"

"If you'd like to take the chance," he agreed.

"All right," you took a breath and exhaled deeply. "All right, yeah, sure, let's do it." Balerion growled again, his eyes ablaze like the fire brewing in his chest; snorting in warning. In High Valyrian, you called, "Be calm, my friend."

"He's very protective of you," Aemond noted.

"As he should be," you smirked. You told your dragon, "We're visiting with Vhagar, be still. We'll be back."

After The Black Dread grumbled and lowered his head, the Prince offered his arm, "Right this way, Lady Tyrell."

You chuckled and let Aemond lead you upward, Balerion's growl vibrating the ground you ascended to hike out of the crater. You made idle chitchat as you walked, learning about his family unit and his influence in this war - but he seemed to shut down around that subject, so, you steered away.

Vhagar was impressive in size, but in earnest, a fraction of your beast. She was a sleepy old lady, Aemond rousing her with words you now understood and repeated after him - per his direction. You laughed, "You're a thorough educator."

"You're a dedicated student."

Sharing a smile, you watched him encourage his dragon into consciousness; telling her they were going for a fly and to behave. Carefully, Aemond showed you how to climb the rope ladder to mount Vhagar's saddle, giving a small but genuine chuckle when you teetered for balance and he needed to stabilize you. Together, with Aemond sat close behind you, showed you the ways in which a Targaryen Dragon Rider could control and hold onto their mount. He latched you to the saddle for safety and then himself; pressed so close, it was surely indecent.

Before anything could be said, Aemond was encouraging Vhagar to her feet. "Gods be fucking good!" You yelped at the sensation, grabbing onto the arm Aemond anchored your waist with. "Oh, fuck, okay, yeah, all right, this is fine," you muttered, nodding as you forced yourself to get used to the fact that you were a Dragon Rider now - an elite group amongst those who even ruled the Realm.

"You're all right," Aemond muttered in your ear. "I've got'yah." You gulped a little when Vhagar shook out her sleepy hide. "Ready?" He asked, repeating himself in High Valyrian.

You agreed in the same Tongue, "Ready."

Within moments, Vhagar was taking off over the grounds and into the air. You gasped shrilly and held on where Aemond placed your hands, trying to remember what he taught you - but every rational thought was out of your head in that moment. "Open your eyes," Aemond chuckled, hot breath fanning your neck and cheek, "a Dragon Rider must be alert at all times, open your eyes, my Lady."

"Oh, this is fucking scary," you breathed, doing as he said and letting your eyes pop open.

"What a mouth on you," he teased.

"We're in the bloody air! There's no place for decency up here!" You squealed, calming down enough to pant lightly and take in the sights around you. "Oh, wow... Wow, would you look at this..."

"Gorgeous, no?" He teased your words from earlier.

"Just - wow," you could only answer, Vhagar leveling out to flap her wings lazily.

"Vhagar," he commanded in High Valyrian, "higher."

You held onto the saddle as the dragon soared into the clouds, making you giggle a little from the strange sensation of flying through them; Aemond smiling against the shell of your ear. When you broke the seam of clouds, the sun was rising at the perfect moment to give you a shining display of brilliant blues, pinks, oranges, and yellows all painted in the sky and clouds.

"Hold here," Aemond instructed through the flight. "Lean left." "Lean back." "The dragon and rider must bond, they'll take verbal command." "Use this reign when in a fight - this one for altitude - hold here for casual cruising."

You soaked up his words like a sponge.

"Remember to breathe," his words tickled your ear, large hand splayed on your waist. "Keep your heels down, planted - like a horse, good, good, that's good."

Your head turned to watch his other hand 'check' your legs, ensuring they were in the right position on the saddle. When his gaze lifted, it was almost too natural for your foreheads too meet and press together. "It's improper..." You whispered, "But I feel the innate desire to kiss you, I think."

"Perhaps it's only improper beneath the clouds. There's no place for decency up here, right?"

You chuckled, "Right, but it's still improper of me as an unmarried lady no matter if above or below the clouds. I will resist, I'm sorry for voicing such desires."

"Don't apologize," he whispered, both content to simply be for a moment, "it's something I want to do as well."

"Looks like we're both being tempted," you tisked, pulling back. "Can I ask you a serious question?"

"Of course."

"What does life look like if your side is victorious in this war?"

Aemond pondered for a moment, offering, "I cannot say. Though, my brother is but a puppet."

"And you the master?"

"Amongst others, I suppose," He admitted, though it stuck in your mind. "Though, I suppose, life would be simple enough with Aegon on the Throne - there'd be no further challenge to his seat. We would live as comfortably as possible."

You hummed and decided to test your new knowledge. Picking up the right rope-reign, you commanded in High Valyrian, "Back to the Keep, Vhagar."

"Very good," Aemond chuckled, then repeating your command - as his dragon didn't listen to anyone other than him. Once on the ground, Aemond walked you through proper landing skills and then the dismount by unhooking all belts and climbing off the rope ladder.

Once safely away from his dragon, you chuckled, "Is it like that every time?"

"Like what, my Lady?"

"The rush? The adrenaline?"

"I'll let you know if it ever wears off."

You were beginning to think you'd have to 'let him know' if your budding affection for him ever began to 'wear off'. The One-Eyed Prince escorted you back into the Keep.

Saturday -

The Tullys House words were, "Family, Duty, Honor," and while you were a Tyrell and Targaryen, you held these words dear to your chest. You would always place your family above your duty and honor; your duty above yourself.

The night prior, your little brother began showing signs that he was starting an "episode", the kind term to his "fits". It worried you, but there was little to be done for now; so you told the staff to alert you to any changes he might have. You had plans to see Aemond one last time, so you left them directions on where to find you.

You were exhausted by the week's events; where your duties didn't stop, you were entertaining the Princes, and playing mother to a child not yours - though, that, you wouldn't give up or exchange for the world.

Still, you made an effort to visit with the Princes after their effort to travel to Highgarden.

Family. Duty. Honor.

So, the pair of you met in the lush gardens of your home, showing the Prince the vast array of different vegetation your family could boast. You spoke of little things from your youth to aspirations later in life; from favorite foods to how war might affect your marriage. All good things, all proper logistics needed considered before committing to lifelong matrimony. The peace shattered when Eyme came sprinting through the gardens, "My Lady! My Lady!"

"We're here," You turned immediately, Aemond's brow furrowing. "What is it?" You demanded when the handmaiden was within sight.

"It's - It's Ryden, my Lady, it's your brother - "

"I have to go, I'm so sorry," you bid Aemond, patting his arm as you disentangled yours from his. "I'm so sorry, my Prince, but my brother needs me. Please, en-enjoy the gardens! The fruits are edible, you must try them! I'm so sorry, again!"

He didn't get to answer as you intercepted Eyme and started up the path she had come barreling down. Aemond stood there, dumbfounded, blinking in shock before scoffing gently. He didn't even remember hearing what the problem was, only that it was something with your brother - then you were leaving. Without a thought, no other information requested. Aemond found this response dramatic as he returned to his guest chambers.

Later that evening, when your brother was safe in bed and under the watchful eye of Maester Keiff Foral, you decided you owed Prince Aemond an apology and explanation. You decided to seek him out in his guest chambers, sending for a reserve of sweet Dornish wine; approaching the cracked door when voices spilled into the hall in an echo.

Unfamiliar booming laughter accused, "Perhaps the Tyrells have taken a page from the Targaryens! And they love one another deeply! Too deeply!"

"Oh, please," Aemond was heard, "it was more panic than anything. It begs the question why she is caring for a child not her own? Am I foolish to think the Lady's reaction was extreme? Dramatic?"

"No, it sounds as if it was," the voice of Aemond's household guardsman, Criston Cole, was heard - possibly indicating the two were alone. "But women usually are, my friend. Why would the Lady Tyrell be different?"

"Her beauty might give her a pass," Aemond mused, "though, little else. Should hear the way she speaks to the castle staff, Cole, it's as if they're friends."

"Once she's out of her element, she'll calm down and depend on you, my Prince, she'll come to follow the rules. Then, I suppose all that's left is to thank the Targaryen whores for such a pretty bride," Cole snickered.

"How's that?"

You were repulsed by what you were hearing yet could not walk away, intrigue rooting your feet.

"You heard your mother," Cole lamented in amusement, "the Vanished Princess was granddaughter of Old King Jaehaerys, sister of the Queen Who Never Was."

"Mhm," Aemond agreed.

"She broke off her engagement to a Northern Lord, married some Tyrell instead, and was overlooked in favor of Viserys. But before that, she was disinherited and became a whore, all promiscuous and rebellious. At least Lord Tyrell managed to wrangle her in, right? Saddle such a ridden filly?"

"Unless you believe the rumors that say the Vanished Princess was pregnant already and Lord Tyrell raised the bastard as his own out of the goodness of his heart. Or that he was infertile, a eunuch, the rumors are vast - "

Cole cut Aemond off, "It still gives Lady Tyrell Dragon Blood, and we need her dragon, my Prince. So, bastard or not, we need Balerion on our side, it's in the Realm's best interest you cast aside your prejudice and conclude romancing her."

"She makes her decision tomorrow."

"So go to her tonight."

Your face pulled in a look of disgust, stepping back a few steps and loudly approaching. You knocked heavily on the door, letting it swing open further to reveal yourself to the two scheming bastards. Your hand discreetly held up to halt Eyme before she was in view, intercepting the decanter of Dornish wine before it could be delivered.

"My Lady," Cole jumped to his feet.

"No, please, don't get up, I will not be long," You spoke diplomatically, waving the guardsman back to his seat. "I merely wished to offer my apologies to the Prince again, explain what caused me to leave in such a dramatic fashion."

The two didn't seem to pick up on your choice of words.

"As most of the Realm knows, my father has been sickly for quite sometime and as his firstborn, his responsibilities fall unto me. My father is now fully disabled and bound to a bed, but for years, he's been friendly with Death. He's not long for this world, and without our mother, I am all my brother has. He's just a boy of 10, named Ryden. When he was about 7, he fell from a tree and hit his head, where now, he suffers from some affliction that gives him what we call 'episodes' or 'fits'. Any could be his last and it takes a team to pull him out of them. I apologize for my abrupt departure earlier, my Prince, but Ryden began having symptoms last night and I knew today could get bad; so I wanted to be there - since he has nobody else."

Family. Duty. Honor.

"Oh," Aemond blinked, slowly standing from his seat, "no, no, my Lady, please, do not apologize. Is your brother all right?"

"I appreciate the concern - yes, he's all right now. I have assigned a trusted few to the nightshift in preparation for the morrow. I trust your company will be present?"

"Of course," Cole agreed, looking rightfully shellshocked.

"Right. Then, goodnight, I shall see you both tomorrow afternoon."

Aemond might've opened his mouth to stop you, but you were rushing from the room and shutting the chamber door with a loud, reverberating clang. It was your silent way of saying, 'That's how you close a fucking door!'

You seethed against the wood for a moment, feeling your lip authentically twitch in pure rage; movement catching in your peripheral and alerting you to another presence.

It was Eyme, still holding the wine.

Swiftly, you lifted a silencing finger to your lips and ushered her back several feet. She followed suit, hustling along your side when you changed direction to head for your chambers instead. You were huffing and puffing with exertion when you reached your private salvation, facing Eyme in anguish as tears filled your eyes.

"What did I miss?" She asked softly.

"Much I care not to repeat."

"If you do to me, you need not to anyone else."

You mulled over her words, nodding along. "You knew my mother, didn't you, Eyme?" You asked instead.

Your handmaiden set the wine to a table and sighed, "Aye, I did. I adored the woman, we knew one another in youth and she brought me here when she married your father."

"Would you pour a glass?"

She nodded and did as bid, handing you the chalice; pausing, then pouring her own. Eyme deflated into one of your armchairs, asking, "Why do you ask, poppet?"

You gulped about half the wine, swallowing bitterly. "I think I wish to address rumors of her... I know what I wish to say, would you help me write it out? Tell me what I missed?"

"What brought this on? What did you hear Prince Aemond say?"

"For that, we'll need more wine," you muttered, going to open your door to flag a passing maid as Eyme gathered parchment and a quill with ink.

It was a long, sleepless night.

< < < previous part, part two: read here

> > > next part, part four: read here

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

The Black Dread series masterlist

[midnighmoonligh]

Can you maybe write Ghost + Child Regressor Reader who had an accident and got scared that Ghost would get angry or be disgusted? :3 You're one of the only people who write COD with a regressor reader and I love it!! 🩷

A/N

Ironically I had just been finishing up a oneshot book I made with this concept! This is just a chapter of it 🫶. If you want to read more I have the entire store post on wattpad here! Hope you enjoy overall and thank you for your request!

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

Fandom

Call of Duty

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

Characters

Y/N ; 17 ; Gender Neutral ;; They/Them ; little

Simon " Ghost " Riley ; 31 ; He/Him ; CG

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

⚠Content Warnings⚠

Violence, War stuff, COD yk. Potty accident & internally shaming of self!

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

A sudden anxious urge washed over you. You tossed and turned over the covers you had not put on yourself. You were trying to go back to sleep, but instead found yourself awake anyway. With a huff, your eyes finally peeled open. You looked out the window to your left, enjoying how pretty the moon looked tonight with the way the snowy clouds dropped layer after layer. The window seal was covered in snow, making it pile up on the sides to reach higher. You found it pretty, peaceful.

Until you felt it.

You felt a strange wetness, almost coldness too. Well, it was warm in some spots cold in others. When you shifted, the jeans you had fallen asleep in stuck to you. You froze in place at it.

The seconds ticked by as you began to process what happened. The anxiety you had felt when you were refusing to wake before hit you like a train when it had clicked. It was suffocating, quickly becoming hard to breathe as you process how embarrassing it was.

You had wet the bed.

You've never done that before, genuinely. You didn't understand what had happened and god you rather shrivel up and die than really acknowledge what had happened. You suddenly sat up in the bed, eyes darting across the room. First, they focused onto the alarm clock placed on the suspiciously chewed up night stand. The clock read 3:48 am. It was really early, or late depending on your standards.

Then your eyes fell onto Johnny and Simon. Both were now settled into the air mattress on the floor. You've never actually seen them sleeping together, so it was a bit of a shock to find Simon without his mask and laying on his side toward the door. John was also on his side, but pressed against his larger partners back with an arm tossed over his side in a loose hold. They had about four or five blankets tossed on then, most leaning toward the larger man in the bed.

You shook that shock from your mind since you confirmed that they were asleep still. With a shaking body, you began to rip off the sheets from the bed, tossing the blankets onto the floor at the foot of the bed since that was the only space free. You grabbed a spare pair of pants and underwear before scrambling out of the room. You'd worry about searching for new sheets later. For now, you went around as quiet as physically possible searching for the laundry room. You found it on the main floor, in the hallway under the upstairs. It was a small space, had a door too.

When entering, you closed it and turned the lights on. The sudden brightness made you flinched, but with the tears quickly filling your eyes you needed it to see better. You tossed the bedding onto the floor, the clean clothes on the surface of the dryer. Then you opened up the washer, happy to see it empty. With that being confirmed, you began to stuff the bedding into it. You were clumsy, feeling that fuzzy headspace wash over you as you berated yourself in your mind. Insult after insult, you didn't hold back on yourself. You couldn't believe you had done this. It was definitely a new one for the books, one you hoped to take the secret of it to your grave.

Suddenly, the laundry room door opened.

" What are you doing? " Simon's exhausted voice rumbled out from deep within in chest.

It scared you, making you visibly jump. He had caught you mid struggling to shove the thick sheets into the machine. You were quickly loosing your usual motor skills as you fell further into that, normally, comforting headspace.

" Um- I, uh, spilled somethin, " you told Simon awkwardly while trying to shove the bedding harder into the washer.

Ghost's expression was a mix of exhaustion and irritation as he observed the mess in front of him. It was evident that Ghost was already in a bad mood, and your little accident likely added to that.

" What the hell did you spill? " He sighed, moving closer to you and reaching out to take the sheets from your trembling hands.

You flinched as the bedding was taken from your shaking hands. You sniffled as quietly as you could manage while stepping back. Now you knew it was a matter of time before Simon smelled it. You stared at the floor in shame. The anxiety of the fact of what had happened hammering through you harshly. You've never done it before, it scared you.

" Don't remember, " you mumbled.

Simon's frustration was palpable, and as he picked up the damp bedding, his expression darkened. The smell of the accident clung to the sheets, and while not the most pleasant, he has endured far worse on the battlefield.

" Bloody hell, " he muttered as he looked down at the sheets in his hand before giving them a rough twist and shoving them into the washer. " I hope this was a one-off, " he said gruffly as he reached over and turned the washing machine on.

You continued to stare at the floor of the laundry room. You still wore soiled pants, tears spilling over uncontrollably while you wished you could just sink into the ground and completely disappear from shame. You didn't reply to Simon, deciding it was likely better not to.

Simon made sure the washer door closed properly before turning it on. Then he turned around and saw the tear stains on your face. His annoyance softened slightly, replaced by a mixture of surprise and concern. He crouched down to be more on your level, knowing it tended to comfort you when agere-related things happened.

" Hey," he placed a hand on your shoulder, "look at me, " he requested as gently as he could manage. It helped you realize his frustration was more at being awake, not directed toward you. Although it ate at you, you did lift your head for him. You blinked heavily at him so you could see him clearly. This caused your tears to practically pour.

" You know this is not your fault, right? Even the big boys have accidents sometimes, it's part of life. I'm not mad about the sheets, just... just be careful in the future, okay? "

Shock quickly washed over you. He was comforting you, not scolding you? It was gross what you had done, yet he was being so patient and sweet. You didn't deserve this, at least that's what you had convinced yourself. Despite what you told yourself, you did deserve this. You deserved every ounce of his love and affection.

" 'm sorry, " you mumbled up, raising your arms up to wipe your face even if it wasn't worth the effort. The words seemed to make you crumble. " Don know what happened, " you hiccuped as you began to cry freely at last.

Seeing you break down, Simon sighed and pulled you in for a hug. He held you tightly. It didn't feel right or fair, especially when you were still wearing gross clothes. It made you feel more guilty as much as you wanted the comfort.

" Don't apologize, it's okay, " he mumbled against your shoulder and slowly rubbed your back in soothing circles. " Sometimes these accidents happen and no one's to blame, " he said with a softer tone as he tried to soothe you. " Let's get you cleaned up and into some fresh clothes, yeah? "

" 'm gross, " you whined quietly, squirming in Simon's hold to get away from the hug. " 'm sorry, " you added, soon hiccuping out a sob.

Simon sighed, his annoyance returning as he tightened his hold. He wasn't as patient as John, unfortunately for you both.

" You're not gross. You just had an accident, it happens to everyone," he said firmly, hoping it would get through to you this time. "Now let's get you cleaned up, silly bug. "

With that said, he picked you up in a strong but gentle grip. Being picked up us 100% you're weakness, something you had found our several months ago. Mostly because Johnny absolutely loved carrying you around. In his arms, you slumped against him and calmed your crying faster than you'd care to admit. You buried your face into a mixture of his shoulder and chest, your favorite spot. Simon had turned off the laundry room light before leaving. He was quiet as he walked through the hallway, only a few steps before pushing obathroom downstairs bathroom door. He continued to hold you as he pulled the shower curtain closed and turned on the water. While standing there, he tested the water to make sure it didn't get too hot or cold.

It made you nervous, hoping that no one would be woken by the sound. The last thing you wanted to explain was your regression to John's family, let alone the fact you had an accident in the bed as a, now, 17-year-old. You didn't even want to tell Johnny.

Simon seemed to pick up on your nerves and spoke up, " Don't worry, Johnny's a deep sleeper and the others usually mind their own business. The shower won't disturb them," he said as he gently set you onto your feet. " Do you want help? "

You nodded without missing a beat. Both pair always made sure to ask, which helped in general. Even if sometimes the asking for permission to do something got a little out of hand. Without missing a beat, Simon began to help you out of your pants. He's become a pro at helping you with closed eyes too. You held onto his forearms for support while doing your part to get them off.

He knew how vulnerable you were feeling, so he spoke softly to soothe your nerves. " You're okay, " he repeated as he helped you step into the shower, clothes now disguarded safely. " Let's get you cleaned up, alright? You'll feel much better once you're clean. "

You hiccuped quietly and sniffled as you pulled the curtain of the shower closed. Simon waited patiently outside the shower, likely standing half leaning against the bathroom sink like he usually did at home. You did your best to bathe yourself, but you kept dropping the soap bottles and just about everything you tried to hold. The sound of it hitting the tile floor kept making your flinch. You felt so little, making it hard to control this bigger body of yours.

" It's okay, take your time, " Simon spoke up from the other side of the curtain, " You're doing great. "

The praise helped you. You sniffled and did your best. Somehow, you managed to not drop stuff as much. It did still happen, just not as frequently. When you finally finished, you turned off the water and peeked out from the curtain.

" Towel? " you mumbled quietly.

Simon's expression softened as he saw your clean face peeking out from behind the shower curtain. " Yeah, " he said gently, stepping closer to the shower and handing you a soft white towel. " All clean, eh? Good job. "

He remained nearby as you dried off, making sure you were comfortable and giving you a small smile of reassurance.

You to on the towel when it was offered, soon disappearing back behind the curtain to dry off. When you felt you were finished, you wrapped the fluffy towel around yourself then carefully got out of the shower. It wasn't an easy task, barely trusting yourself to not slip right now. However, with Simon keeping an eye on you, you didn't feel as anxious about it. You stood in the bathroom, shivering now from how cold you were without the warm water.

Simon looked around before spotting a robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door. It had one of John's sister's names on it, so he just grabbed it and plopped it onto you.

" Here, use this for now. "

" is okay? " you whispered as you wiggled around a bit to tie it in place and free yourself of the towel. It was big on you, not that you minded. Though you quickly noticed the ducks on it in a few spots. It made you giggle, so you showed him too.

" Oh that's cute, " Simon told you with a nod. He may not have agreed, but you didn't really care that much. " And yes it's okay, we're just borrowing it. "

You nodded slowly at that information. Taking his offered hand, he lead you all the way upstairs and back to John's childhood room. Much to your surprise, he was awake and laying on the air mattress, just on his phone. He blinked a few times when he noticed you two come in. First you, then Simon. He made sure to shut the door behind you two.

" Everything okay? " Johnny asked, quietly and gently.

You only nodded, looking to Simon who did the same. He didn't say a word. That much made you feel relieved and genuinely cared for.

" I noticed the sheets on the bed were gone, so I put a fresh pair on, " John told them while turning his attention back to his phone.

Nothing was added nor asked. It relieved you. Simon shuffled with you to the foot of both the beds, where there was a lot more space to comfortably stand.

" Anything you want to wear in particular? " he asked as he tugged open a drawer of the dresser in the closet. You quickly noticed the same, probably bite marks, all over the wooden furniture.

" 'm dunno, " you mumbled as you lifted your hand, soon chewing on your fingers. You just felt the need to have something to chew on.

" Hmmm, " Simon hummed as he shuffled through the clothes. " How about some sweatpants? I'll let you wear one of my shirts if you want. "

You paused your chewing to blink at you, even catching John look up from his phone in the corner of your eye. It had surprised you both. Simon was not a big clothes sharer, well willingly.

" Really? " you asked, sounding a tad more excited than you had meant to.

" Sure, why not, " he shrugged.

" kay! " you agreed, nodding your head and even bouncing a little.

It made him smile. In return you found yourself smiling too.

After getting dressed, with some help too, you ended up snuggling into the air mattress with Simon and Johnny. You were squished between them, though comfortably. John was still on his phone, smiling contently while he did whatever it was he was doing.

" Comfortable? " Simon has asked, getting you to look at him. You nodded after, moving to your side to face him then cuddling into his chest. He pulled one of the blankets to be around you better. " Good, " he sighed contently.

" Just relax now, we've got you, " he whispered before yawning and settling down himself.

You gently tugged on his shirt, making him look down at you. He looked barely awake, yet he still wanted to make sure you had everything yih needed.

" 'm wan 'm paci, " you mumbled you him, moving to chew on your thumb to emphasize what you wanted. He frowned.

" Not sure we packed it kiddo, sorry, " he told you sadly, hand rubbing your back.

You shook your head, shifting a little to your back to point to your backpack still settled in front of the nightstand.

" You packed it? " Simon questioned with surprise peeking on his tone.

" Mhm, " you admitted shyly. Yet, he was clearly proud of you with the way he squeezed you into a hug. Then he pulled out a spare pillow and smacked John with it.

" What on EARTH-" John yelped louder than he really should've.

" Y/N's pacifier is in their bag right next to your head. "

" Oh. "

John turned over to face where the bag was, tugging it over then shuffling through it. Soon, he turned over to face you both, showing off the prized pacifier he had fished out. You rolled to your back, opening your mouth for him to nicely place it in. Happily, you chewed on it. You didn't really move from there, clearly soothing yourself into such a sleepy state it was hard to move.

" So sweet, " the scot cooed as he shuffled over. He brushed some of your hair from your face, then snuggled up to you and Simon.

Judging by how quiet the older of you three are being, you figure he fell asleep at last.

" Better not kick in your sleep, " the younger man teased you. You huffed at him playfully, making him smile wider. " Okay okay, try to get a bit more sleep. Sure we'll all be up in a few more hours if you can't, " he told you, soon yawning too.

You caught the yawn, making him absolutely beam. He laid his arm over you, just above where Simon's was. Soon after, you were both falling back asleep together.

[olderthannetfic]

I'm following a fic writer I absolutely adore. We write in the same fandom and I discovered her only recently but through sheer luck we also share a good chunk of fandoms based on her ao3 profile.

She is an inspiration for me. She writes in such a beautiful way, on the topics that I'm deeply interested in, in the ships I'm also deeply interested in, but at the same time there's this strange feeling in me that I know that I'll never be as good as her.

And I don't need the encouragement in the sense 'oh don't be hard on yourself.'

I have eyes. I read fanfic, books, manga everything. And I'm painfully aware of just how mediocre my writing is. I publish often. I try to work on my craft but its rare that I'm satisfied with it. And now there's this feeling of me imagining her reading my fics and hating them.

This feels weird and parasocial and I even unsubscribed from her fics today because of this today because I felt like this online attachment went too far. Because now when I publish a one shot my frist thought is that if she sees it she will hate it.

I don't know. I feel like this isn't normal.

I'll add that I don't act weird in her DMs or ao3 comments or notes. I'm leaving very simple "thank you" comments. So she has no idea and that's how it's gonna stay. I know this is my and only my problem.

--

These feelings are 1. common and 2. not all that related to your actual skills.

You might`indeed be bad at art, but you'd still feel like this even if you were brilliant. How people feel about the gap between their ambitions and accomplishments is very different from how they judge others.