#thank you for explaining your pov in a respectful way !

[dcandmarvelimagines]

sweeter than you ever knew. (pt. 2)

Series: pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 Pairing: Wade Wilson x Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.2k Warnings: AFAB reader (uses she/her pronouns), 1st person POV, non-mutant Reader, Oral sex (f! recieving), vaginal fingering, overstimulation, Wade breaks his nose so a bit of blood, Wade is an absolute pervert Logan is too, voyeurism, Logan puts his cigar out on his hand, Logan is also very emotionally stunted but we'll work on that Author's note: Holy shit guys?? This blew up in a way I totally didn't expect. I seriously thought this would just be something I uploaded and would get like five notes. You guys have been so sweet! Thank you so much! I hope you like this next installment. Things take a bit of a turn at the end and in the next chapter, but fear not besties, we will make it out of this and to a happy ending I swear! ao3 Tags (if you would like to be included or removed, just let me know): @fallout-girl219 @xolosimp @o0aligoth0o

Early that Monday, I met with my supervisor. When I explained that I was becoming attached to Al’s roommates and it would most likely affect my working relationship, he just sighed. Apparently, Al had requested that I’m her only caretaker and said she would refuse anyone else. “So keep your head on straight around them. Don’t make me regret it.” 

When I walked into the apartment later that day, I knew Wade would make me fail. He instantly wrapped me in his arms, covering my face in slobbery kisses. But I was able to keep him at arm's length while I was on the clock for Al. He was allowed one kiss when I got there and nothing else. Despite his protests, he respected my boundaries. With Wade forced to behave, it allowed me to start talking to Logan more. There was some sort of tension between us that had eased. The crease between his eyebrows whenever he saw me had slowly faded. I saw him smile more often. He was surprisingly nice to be around once I got past his gruff exterior. I kept myself an open book, answering any questions he had, but he kept his life close to his chest. I didn’t expect him to spill his guts and I accepted the little crumbs he gave me. But sometimes he was broody and quiet, keeping his responses short, a distant look in his eyes. 

Nevertheless, it began to grow into something more. It started off small, little touches to the back, him forcing me to sit when I had been rearranging Al’s furniture. Then it was a gift of delicious chocolate when they came back from France and a home cooked meal when I was too busy to make it myself. I found his eyes tracing my body more often, lingering in certain places. He sometimes stood just a little too close to me while I did the dishes. He wore a shirt less often and I greedily drank in his body when I could. None of this escaped Wade’s notice. I knew he was scheming. 

It was a crisp autumn night when I climbed out on the fire escape to settle next to Logan. The cigar smoke was a comfort now, earthy and sweet. We sat in silence for a few moments. Sometimes that was enough for me, just to be in his presence, but not tonight. I shoved my chilly hands deep into the pockets of my jacket. I titled my head, watching his cheeks hollow around the cigar, the ash skittering across his forearm. He didn’t so much as flinch as the hot ash touched him. “Could I try?” I had tried smoking before but had just ended up coughing for a minute straight. He shook his head, watching a bike roll by. 

“Last thing you need is lung cancer.” I tentatively laid my head on his shoulder. He would still sometimes jerk away like I had burned him. This time, he allowed me to sink closer, our thighs pressed against each other. I could feel the heat of him sinking through my clothes.

“Mm, it smells good though.” He takes a long drag, letting the smoke linger in his lungs before letting it out in a puff. A long moment of silence passes. We’ve been slowly circling each other for weeks, all lingering touches and heavy glances. How would he react if I finally did something? Pull away? I knew he and Wade still slept together, Al complained about it enough that I couldn’t escape it. Wade and I hadn’t really gone beyond our kisses. Despite what he called himself on my phone, I didn’t want this to be a friends with benefits situation. He seemed to know that and hadn’t pushed for more. Wade made it very clear to the both of us that he has no qualms about sharing. If anything, I think he wants Logan and I to have sex more than he wants to have sex with me.

Steeling my resolve, I rest my chin on his shoulder. “Can I try a taste?” Logan glanced down at me, that crease reappearing between his eyebrows. 

“What?” His voice is dry, a touch on edge. I wanted to apologize for my flirting and run but I can’t allow myself to. My fingers trace the corner of his lip, the edge of his jaw. He turned just an inch closer to me and I’m able to take in his lined and handsome face. 

“Just one taste?” It comes out breathy, barely audible. But he hears it, he always does. There’s the faintest tick at the corner of his lips like he was going to smile. “I promise to be gentle,” now that got a smirk out of him. 

“You don’t scare me sweetheart,” his voice was a low rumble. 

“Then why haven’t you kissed me yet?” He pressed the still burning cigar onto his palm. The smell of burning flesh floated up to me and my nose twitched at it. “Why would you-“ but the words are cut off as his unburned palm cupped the back of my neck and dragged me closer, our lips pressing together. The kiss is chaste. My eyes fall shut, a surprised gasp leaving me. His beard scratches lightly at my face as we move our heads. But then he nudges my nose, tilting his head back. “No, please,” I whispered, chasing his lips. I felt his sigh ghost across my face before he cupped both cheeks and drew me back against his mouth. I moan against him, clutching at the front of his sweatshirt, wanting him closer, craving it. Then his lips are moving against mine. My hands slide into his hair and give the strands a tug. His mouth parts on a growl and I take the opportunity to lick my way in. I can taste the tang of whiskey, the sweetness of the cigar, a hint of mint. I want to crush myself against him, to feel his body against mine, to explore his skin. 

Just as I’m reaching under his sweatshirt, hungry for the feel of the torso that’s been haunting me, he withdraws. His breath still coasts across my face and my nose was full of the scent of him. My breath was ragged while his was perfectly even. Embarrassing. My eyes are slow to open. I found him only a few inches away, a smug expression on his handsome face.

“There,” he whispers, “got your taste.”

“Asshole.” Now he smiles, perfect teeth glinting in the streetlight. 

“Yeah, get that in your pretty head now.” His calloused fingers tapped at my temple. “I’m not someone to get attached to.” 

“Well she’s sticking around me and I’m about as much boyfriend material as sandpaper.” I jumped nearly out of my skin at the sound of Wade’s voice. Logan just smirked and circled his hands around my wrists, squeezed once to make me let go of his sweatshirt. I had half a mind to refuse, crawl into his lap and kiss every inch of skin I could find. But I let my hands fall weakly to my lap. “When you two fuck, can you record it? I’ve tried finding look-alikes on pornhub, but it’s just not the same.” I huffed, glancing down at where Wade’s head was, a spark of annoyance at him interrupting Logan and I. He’s half laying on the metal grate, his legs dangling off the couch beneath the window. 

“Ain’t gonna happen dickwad.” I can hear Logan’s lighter flicking before the smell of the cigar is back. I hoped he had just meant recording and that gruff tone wasn’t for the idea of us having sex. But he let me remain close so I took that as a good sign. 

“Don’t listen to him, baby bunny. Look, he literally tried killing me and we ended up fucking in the end.” 

“Was still trying to kill you,” Logan growls. Wade gasps dramatically, clutching his chest like Logan actually succeeded.

“Don’t lie peanut! What’s more romantic than stabbing me in the neck? That Honda Odyssey was shaking all night.” 

“I hope that’s not how you plan on being romantic with me,” I laughed, reaching down to tug at Wade’s cheek. “I can’t snap back like you two.” 

“Of course not darling,” he covered my hand in sloppy kisses, sucking a hickey on my wrist. “I’ll let you stab me in the neck while you fuck me. Would never want to hurt that sexy face.” 

“Ugh, get a room you two,” Logan snapped, nudging my knee with his. I glanced back at him but found his face reserved again. As much as I wanted to linger and force my time on Logan, I knew he wouldn’t appreciate it.

“We should take Mary Puppins out, yeah?” Wade nodded, wiggling free of his awkward position. The decrepit dog came bounding around the corner. She wiggled her naked butt as Wade grabbed her leash. I looked back at Logan. He was determinately ignoring me, eyes locked onto the dark apartment across the way. “I’ll probably head home once that’s done.” He nodded and brought the cigar back to his lips. “Why did you put it out on your hand?”

“Didn’t want to drop it on you. It’s a nasty burn.” There was something fleeting and tender that passed over his averted face. A little smile spread across my face. 

“Thank you, you’re my hero.” I pressed a kiss to his stubbly cheek, lingering just a beat too long, before I pulled away. “Goodnight Logan.” I didn’t wait for his reply, if he even intended to give one. 

Wade was happy with the progress me and Logan had made. 

But it wasn’t fast enough. 

Which is how I found myself locked in their shared cramped bathroom, Wade’s head buried between my legs, while two of his fingers plunged inside me. My legs were shaking, my heel pressed against his shoulder to spread me open more. “Wade,” I whimpered as tears pricked my eyes. He had already drawn one orgasm from me with his rough and agile fingers before he dropped to his knees. “I c-can’t.” 

“I know you can honey bun.” His breath was hot against my tender skin and I gasped. “Just one more for me, yeah?” I nodded, hips grinding against him. “There you go. You’re close again aren’t you?” I nodded again, eyes rolling back. He kitten licked across my overly sensitive clit. I knew I was making a mess of his face but he seemed to revel in it. He left a trail of sticky kisses along my bruised and bitten thigh. “Do you hear yourself? Got that WAP.” I smacked his head before pushing him deeper to keep him from running his mouth more. He latched back onto my clit, sucking harshly, and a third finger wedged into me. My back arched and I had to bite my lip hard to stay quiet. My eyes fell closed. His spare hand moved from my hip where it had been holding me. 

The sudden sound of the door opening made me freeze. Al had laid down for a nap which was the only reason I allowed Wade to drag me in here. But instead I found Logan framed in the doorway. He had the look of a deer in headlights. “Now peanut,” Wade cooed, his head laid against my thigh. to look at the other man. He didn’t stop fingering me, the squelching sounds suddenly too loud. “Don’t you know it’s rude to eavesdrop.” 

“I wasn’t, you two are too fucking loud.” Logan’s nostrils were flared, heaving chest straining against his thin tank top. 

“Uh huh,” Wade teased, his tongue swirling around my clit. My hand clamped over my mouth as a sob caught in my chest. “That massive tent in your pants has nothing to do with you hovering.” Logan growled, palming at himself, seemingly angry at his body. “Come on handsome, look at her.” Wade pushed my thighs farther apart, his free hand spreading me. 

“Oh god,” I mumbled, embarrassment making me cover my face. I couldn’t hear Logan’s steps, he was always so light on his feet, but I could feel him examining me. The hairs at the back of my neck stood on end. 

“Don’t hide from us gorgeous,” Wade chides. “Logan Ioves to watch orgasm faces. I can feel you fluttering, I know you're close.” When I don’t remove my hands, Wade sighs, the exhale of air making my hips jerk. “Come on, you can be brave for us.” I take a shaky breath and remove my hands, curling them around the edge of the counter. Wade smiled while Logan’s dialated eyes were glued to my pussy. I watched his Adam's apple bob and he shifted from one foot to the other. “Good job,” he kissed my clit, popping obscenely. “Now make a mess on my face.”

He dove back between my legs. With Logan there, Wade seemed determined to force me to come as hard and as fast as he could. His fingers drove into me with firm thrusts, tongue flicking cruelly at my clit. My leg was trembling so much it slipped from Wade’s shoulder, only to be caught by Logan. I struggled to focus on him, my vision blurry from prickling tears of overstimulation. His calloused palm traced up my ankle and calf before notching behind my knee. With my pussy covered by Wade’s head, Logan could only look at my face. I wanted him closer, to feel his mouth against mine again, that scrape of his beard. His eyes fastened to my neck, watching my erratic pulse. 

“Logan,” my voice tilts up at the end, hands reaching for him. Before I was able to even breathe, just as the orgasm was rushing through me, Logan’s lips crashed against mine. I clung to him, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and locking both of my shuddering legs around his waist, moaning wildly into his mouth. Wade groaned as his head was pinned between our hips and the vibrations made me cry out. Logan was kissing me like a man starved, biting at my lips, grunting like he was the one coming. A combination of our spit collected at the corner of my mouth and he licked at it hungrily. His blunt nails dug into the tender skin behind my knees as he clutched me closer. Tears streaked down my cheeks as Wade kept working me into near painful overstimulation. 

Logan separated first, his forehead pressed to mine. My breath was ragged, sweat collecting along my hairline. I wanted more, to lose myself between their touches, their bodies. Wade finally stilled, his fingers still buried deep. His mouth released me and I gasped as his harsh breaths coasted across me. “You okay down there?” My voice shook. I reached down and ran my nails across his scalp. 

“Broke my nose, but it’s okay.” I bolted up straight and Logan stumbled back to avoid my head cracking against his. Blood and my slick was smeared across his face, staining his white teeth as he beamed up at me. The tip of his nose was bent at an odd angle. 

“I’m so sorry,” I cupped his face, panic rushing through me. “Are you okay?” 

“He’s fine,” Logan said. One of his big hands braced on Wade’s head before he grabbed the broken nose with two fingers. With a pop and a grunt from Wade, the nose slid back into place. “There,” he tapped Wade’s sticky face, “good as new.” 

“You’re always so nice to me,” Wade grumbled, itching the rapidly healing bump. His drenched fingers slid from me, glistening in the harsh bathroom light. Logan glanced between Wade and I, one finger twirling in the drawstring of his black sweatpants. I wish I could read his mind, be able to tell his emotions from one glance, or a touch. I wanted to understand this unsure look on his face. He almost seemed nervous to be in here now that the haze of lust had passed. He swallowed thickly before he pressed a kiss to my cheek. 

“See you tomorrow sweetheart.” My arms, which were about to latch around his neck to keep him close, hung limply in the air. I blinked as he walked away, disappearing into their dark bedroom. Wade shook his head as he stood and closed the bathroom door. 

“Did I do something?” I whispered, knowing Logan would hear me anyway. Wade’s hands went to my thighs, kneading at the tight muscles, leaving behind wet handprints with his right one. 

“No, he’s just a fucking idiot who doesn’t think he deserves happiness. I’ve been trying to ease him into this but he’s stubborn.” He turned his head, “and he’s stupid!” I heard their bedroom door snap shut. “He’s worried he’ll scare you off. Just give him time. He’s just…just had a lot happen to him.” I nodded. “Don’t take it personally, okay?” 

“Okay,” I mumbled. 

“Are you two done in there?!” A cane hit the door. “She needs to read me my mail!” 

Never more in my life have I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. Only compounded by Wade wiping the door open, cocking his hip to glare at his roommate. I knew she was blind, that she had completely lost vision almost twenty years ago. But that didn’t stop me from stretching my shirt down to try and cover myself, crossing my legs. “I see Miss sleepy granny pants is awake. What do you need? A diaper change?” Al scoffed, her cane clicking along the floorboards of the hallway as she moved to the kitchen. Once she was out of our sight, Wade plucked my panties from the floor. 

“Why?” He shrugged, an evil glint in his eyes. 

“Maybe I need to get him used to your scent, like a dog.” I rolled my eyes but bit back a hiss as he dragged the coarse material through my wet folds. “Need a lot of it I think, yeah, nice and soaked.” I shoved his hand away and he tucked my panties into his pocket. Wade helped me off the counter, his hands braced on my waist to keep me steady. My jeans had been tossed carelessly to the side and I dreaded putting them back on without the barrier of my underwear. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you wear those pesky jeans, even if they do make your ass look so good I want to rip them off you every time you wear them.” He passed through the bathroom and into his and Logan’s room. I peeked around the edge of the door frame and nearly fainted at the sight. 

Logan was splayed across their dark sheets, body bare, hard cock in his hand. While the room was dim, the beams of light from the hallway were able to reach in. The shadows played over his muscles and I watched as they flexed. I wasn’t able to see his cock well, both his hand and the poor lighting limited my vision. But I was able to see a long, thick vein along the underside. My face heated at the sight of him. “Knock, asshole,” his voice was husky. The sound of him made my toes curl. If I hadn’t just had a mind melting orgasm, I would have been striding into that room, ready to do anything he wanted me to. His stomach fluttered as his strokes became more rapid. 

“Here,” Wade said as he tossed my drenched panties on Logan’s face. His hips jerked, knuckles flashing white around himself. Wade searched through a drawer before pulling something from inside. “Now be good and keep those right there for when I come back.” Logan growled, removing the fabric from his face but kept it clutched in his fist. Wade blew him a kiss and a wave before closing the door again. He offered me a pair of sweatpants. I tugged them on with a mumbled thank you, having to roll the waistband down multiple times so I wasn’t swimming in them. Wade pinched my chin and our eyes locked. “I’ll get him to warm up, promise.” I nodded. “Now go take care of Miss Migoo. Remember to text me when you get home.” 

“Of course,” I stood on my toes to kiss his healed nose. “I’m sorry about that.” 

“Don’t worry babykins. If it makes you feel better, I was near suffocation. So a busted nose was the best case scenario.” He laughed at my horrified expression. “Hey, I’d much rather die from pussy smothering than my heart being ripped out.” 

“You know, that doesn’t make me feel much better.” He smirked and drew me closer, his lips connecting with mine. I could taste the tang of me coating him. But I pulled back first. I needed to keep my head on straight for the last hour of my time with Al. “Keep it down with him, please? It’ll be too distracting.” His expression turned wicked. 

“Trust me, I have a way I’ll shut him up.” His hands coasted down my hips, grabbing a handful of my ass. “I’ll send pictures of what happens to your cute little panties once we’re done with them.” My face flushed and I pressed my hands to his chest. 

“God, you’re such a pervert.” 

“Mhm, you like it though.” 

“Will you two stop! My vision isn’t coming back anytime soon.” We reluctantly broke apart. Wade slipped into the bedroom. I was only able to catch a brief glimpse of Logan’s back arched, heels dug deep into the mattress, before my sight was cut off. I grabbed my discarded jeans and stuffed them into the tote bag I had brought with me. The last bit of my shift ended in mostly silence, minus the occasional creak of the bed frame from the guy’s bedroom. I helped Al sign a few checks, read through her mail, and took out Mary Puppins. I said my good night and left the apartment. My mind conjured up thoughts on what could be happening behind that closed door all the way home on the train. Wade, clad only in my stolen underwear, bouncing on Logan. My panties stuffed into Logan’s mouth as Wade pounds him from behind. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop my imagination from getting too wild. It wouldn’t help anything to get turned on now. 

If my mind hadn’t been so filled with dirty thoughts, I would have noticed the man watching me from the other end of the train car.  

I made it to my apartment. The key fob scanner was broken again. “Advanced security my ass,” I groaned, trudging up to my apartment. It was Friday and I felt like ordering something in. I knew I shouldn’t, the delivery fees were astronomical, but I just wanted to relax. After placing my pizza order, I grabbed a fresh pair of underwear and a shirt stolen from Logan by Wade, then gifted to me. It always felt illegal to wear it, but it was easily the softest shirt I had. His scent lingered on it and it always soothed me. I had around an hour before my pizza was going to arrive. I made a little nest for myself on the couch and tucked in to watch some mindless reality tv. 

A knock woke me up. At first I was confused, rubbing at my eyes and looking around to locate the sound. Then my mind caught up. “Oh shit,” I mumbled, scrambling to the door as the poor delivery guy knocked again. “Sorry! Sorry!” I called. I unlocked the door and swung it open. 

I froze. 

A man, with no pizza box, stood before me. “Um, can I help you?” The man had ice chips for eyes, cold and lifeless. A tattoo peaked above his collar. He took me in, tracing each inch of me. I felt my skin break out in goosebumps at the cold calculation on his face. My arms curled over my chest, hiding it from him. “Can I help you?” My tone was stronger, a small snap to it. That horrible gaze found mine again. Then he said my full name. Fear oozed through me. 

I heard something from my bedroom, a little thump, but was too terrified to look away from the man in front of me. “Get the fuck out of here,” but the words lacked conviction, a slight tremble to them. “I don’t know who you are. Leave or I’m calling the cops.” 

“Why wouldn’t you call your boyfriends?” My heart stuttered in my chest. 

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” I heard the creak of my floorboard. I cast a wild glance behind me and found a wall of a man emerging from my bedroom. I went to scream but the man at my door latched his hand around my mouth. I kicked and thrashed, biting wildly. He didn’t react. There was a pinch in my neck. 

My elbows tried to find his face, but he was able to easily deflect them. The man in my apartment was searching for something. My eyes were blurring, limbs turned to lead. I saw him hold my phone up. 

Then I slumped to the ground.

[gguk-n]

Chapter 4- Heartbreak and Understanding

Unravelling Max's Mystery (Max Verstappen X Online Friend!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N decides to forgive Max. Max wins his home race. She meets Max's girlfriend who doesn't seem to like her very much. Did I tell you Y/N watched Max win his home race?

{Reader's POV}

Falling in love with your friend is a bad idea. Falling in love with your internet friend who has a girlfriend was an even worse idea. Falling in love with Max Emilian Verstappen was the worst idea. He's all over my screen after I searched him on every social media ever. I cannot escape him when I'm trying to get over him.

It's been a few months since the either of us have spoken to each other. After I asked for time, Max respected my wishes. After our call, I received a message from him saying that he would always be there for me no matter what and that he would like to clear up the misunderstanding one day. I knew I would talk to him, however I hoped that it would be when I was over him. Doesn't look like that's about to happen any time soon since this man is everywhere and anywhere I look.

Summer break was here, so I was having a girl's night with my friend Riley when I decided to ask for her opinion on this whole debacle. "Sooooo, Riley" I began. "You're about to unload some shit you did aren't you. Who fucked you up?" she interrupted me. "What?" I questioned. "I've known you for 6 years, I know you too well. Tell me who do I have to beat up." she said. I began to laugh. "No one" I said in between laughter. I wiped a tear away from the side of my eye, "I haven't laughed like this in a while." I muttered. "Go on, love" Riley prodded. "Yeah, so I have this internet friend, we've been friends since 2013. He's nice, kind, funny, handsome, blonde, blue eyes" I was talking when she cut me off; "exactly your type" I nodded along. "It's all nice and all. I didn't know what he did for a living. I recently found out that he is famous" I mumbled. She looked at me shocked. "Who?" was all she said. "Max Verstappen, Formula One driver for Redbull Racing" I said. "Damn, I mean he's like cute for a white boy. I think he's cool and shit for driving in fast cars, I appreciate him as an athlete for sure; as my bestie's potential love interest, questionable at best" she replied. "why, I mean I didn't say I was interested in him?" I asked defensively. "Bro, he is literally exactly your type, I've seen the men you date or hook up with, on the other hand, he has a girlfriend" she pointed out. "Ok, I know and you scare me sometimes" I lamented. "so, my real question is, I didn't know he was Max Verstappen. I didn't know he had a girlfriend. I was hurt when I found out and stopped talking to him, had a confrontation and then I said I need time before I am ready" I explained. "Understandable" she nodded along. "what do I do?" I asked. "what do you want to do?" she questioned back.

I love Max and I would like to be a part of his life even if it meant only as friends because I cherished the time we've had together. Also, I feel like I didn't let him explain himself the last time we spoke. I want to mend our ways. I would love to have him forever, even if only as a friend. "I want to still have him in my life even if it meant only as friends." I said cautiously. "Then there's your answer." she pointed out. "Talk to him, clear stuff out. If his explanation seems legit then continue to be friends." she suggested. "great idea. Thanks Riley" I said. "Don't mention it. Now can we un-pause the movie." she asked. "yes" I said while un-pausing the movie.

A few days after the heart to heart with Riley I texted Max. I knew he was supposed to be back next weekend for the race and was currently at home. I kind of confirmed that by watching his streams where he did SimRacing. I don't think I'll be telling this to anyone, honestly. He was on stream when my text went through, I saw him check his phone and ask to leave the stream early since he needed to do something; that something being to call me because within seconds my phone was ringing with the familiar name cropping up on the screen. I answered the call, Max staring back at me, a tentative smile played on his lips. He waited for me to start talking.

Y/N- Hi Max. Max- Hi Y/N, how've been? Y/N- Good, you? Max- Yeah, OK. Y/N- I'm sorry for lashing out the last time we spoke. Max- No, no, don't be sorry. I was at fault for hiding such important information from you. Can you ever forgive me? Y/N- Depends... Max- What do I have to do to get you to forgive me? Y/N- Why didn't you tell me? About everything; your girlfriend, your career? Max- I...When we started talking I just enjoyed being a regular teenager, where we talked about school and random stuff. I got to be Max the teenager not Max the youngest Formula One driver. I enjoyed the disconnect I got with you. I got to be myself and forget about racing for a minute. You made me feel like a regular guy. Y/N- I wish you had told me because when I found out about your championships, I felt like I missed out on celebrating such a huge and momentous occasion with you. That hurt. Max- I'm sorry for that. I didn't know how to tell you since it had been so long, I did want to tell you, I really did want to share my happiness with you; I just didn't know how to. You made me feel normal. Y/N- I'm glad I could be of some help. Max- You were of so much help. You calmed me down before many races and reading your messages or hearing your voice was like a comfortable constant. Thank you. Y/N- Fine, I get it some times famous people want to live regular lives, what about your girlfriend. Why didn't you tell me about her? Max- I....am not really sure. We started dating 2 years ago, it just happened. We'd known each other for a while. It just happened. Y/n- Hmmm....doesn't she mind that we talk so much? Max- No, she's chill about it. (He laughed awkwardly) Y/N- I hope we won't have anymore lies between us Max- No not at all. I cherish our friendship too much Y/N- me too. Max- This weekend is my home race. Y/N- I saw Max- You did? Y/N- I might like watching my best friend win... Max- That's great, then you can watch me win in person next week. Y/N- Sweetheart, Maxie, You might be a millionaire; your friend here is broke as fuck. I can't fly out so suddenly. Max- You don't have to worry about anything. I'll get you the tickets and stuff. Just say yes. Y/N- I mean, I would love to meet you in person.... Max- Then, that's final. You're coming to the Dutch GP next week. I'll pick you up at the airport. You should come early and leave a little later. I'll show you around. Max looked and sounded excited. Y/N- Ok (I couldn't help but laugh at his excitement)

As soon as I ended the call, I got plane tickets to the race. He said he would come pick me. I couldn't wait to meet him. I'm sure nothing bad will happen; from meeting my long time friend.

I thought maybe I should show Max some support and buy his merchandise or something; no one told me it was this expensive. I decided against it. The race was on the 27th; I was flying in on the 24th. The flight there was nerve wrecking. I've seen him although not in person. I got a text from Max telling me to go to a certain gate in the parking area where he would be waiting. I found him rather quickly; he had his hand sticking out of the car. I tapped on the window with a big smile plastered on my face. "Hi Maxie!" I greeted. "hey, schat. Get in, I don't wanna get caught." he said pointed at the door. "By who?" I quizzed. "I feel like you forgot what I did for a living and where we were." he chided. I laughed before walking to the opposite side and getting in.

Initially, things felt a little awkward but the atmosphere turned friendly quite quickly. We reached the hotel I would be staying at; Max had planned the entire week of my stay out. I was going to just rest today while Max attended to media stuff and then we would have dinner together tonight. He would take me along to the paddock for all the 3 days. And after the race weekend, he would take me to all his favourite place; my personal tour guide.

I crashed for the day after a shower and having food. I only woke up when Max called me to let him in. It took me a while to realise where I was. I apologised for not being ready to leave when that was the plan initially. Max didn't mind and offered to wait till I got dressed. He told me we were going somewhere fancy so I pulled out my black satin dress I kept for special occasions. This was a special occasion, right, I thought. Max was a lot more patient compared to all my exes who would start getting antsy; he even helped me decide on the jewellery and shoes I should pair with my outfit. Why are all the good men taken, God?

We had authentic dutch food in a fancy restaurant as a three course meal. I loved the Apple tart. I almost moaned as I placed a spoon of it in my mouth; "Max, this is so good" I groaned. Max smiled, "I'm happy you like it." "I love desserts Max, but this is almost up there with my favourites" I said with a mouth full of apple tart. "What are your favourites?" Max asked. "I love tres leches, tiramisu and cheese cakes" I mumbled. After finishing the food, we decided to walk around for a while; it was kind of dark and Max would probably not get recognised was the thought. "Thanks for the food. Maximilian" I said. He just nodded along. "It's an atrocious name Maxie, no offence but Emilian as a middle name; who ever named you, hates you" I said shaking my head. Max laughed it off; "I would've thought you were fucking with me, if you told me that was your middle name" I said patting his back. "I'm sorry" he said. "Don't apologise for your name, you had no control" I said now facing him. "No, I mean I'm sorry for lying and hiding things from you. I never felt good doing that. I wish I had told you sooner. I wish you had found out about it through me." he said regretfully. "It's ok Max, the past is in the past. I hope we'll be more honest in this friendship" I said enveloping him in a hug for the first time. His head found it's way in the crook of my neck, a woody scent wafted into my nose while Max clutched on to my waist. I felt warm tears drip down my shoulder. "Max, are you crying?" I asked, trying to pull away. He tightened the grip on my waist and buried his head deeper, if it was possible, "No" he replied, making my skin on the shoulder vibrate. "It's ok Maxie, let it all out. I'm always there for you." I said patting his back to console him. "I thought I lost you, I thought you'd never speak to me again, I thought you hated me." he muttered softly. "I could never hate you, I might've been angry but I knew I didn't want to lose you either. You are a very important friend to me" I said. "I don't ever want to lose you" he said, finally deciding to look at me with his tear streaked face. I wiped away the tears. "Me neither, now let's go, you have a race tomorrow" I said pulling him along.

The conversation kept me up at night. It was giving me mixed signals. I didn't know what to make of it. He has a girlfriend, granted I haven't met her yet. There was desperation in Max's eyes and his words. They felt heavy and part of me wasn't sure what I was supposed to do with this. Was I thinking too much into it? What was Max's deal?

I got to meet Max's girlfriend the next day. She didn't seem too pleased with me; I mean I don't think anyone could welcome a random women your boyfriend said was his childhood friend suddenly. I didn't hold it against her. I got to meet Max's teammate and the other drivers. All of them were very kind and welcoming. I got to learn a lot about Max while I waited for him to get done with interviews after free practise. I was talking to Lando while he waited his turn after Max. Max returned which made Lando leave. "You didn't tell me you had such cute friends. I would've asked you you set me up with him sooner" I said while we walked back to Redbull. "No" he stated. "You're patronising with the enemy" he continued. "Your enemy, my future boyfriend." I joked. "He's not your type" Max interjected. "And you know what my type is?" I asked. Before he could say anything, his girlfriend whisked him away.

I ended up talking to Checo who was surprised to know me and Max had been friends for so long. Almost everyone in the garage was shocked about our friendship. Checo told me it's because Max had never told them about me. Max and his girlfriend came back who looked visibly annoyed; I tried asking Max what was up but he brushed me off. I spent the rest of the day being dragged around by Max who couldn't stop talking about anything and everything.

I spent Saturday with a lot of the mechanics and engineers who had so much good stuff to talk about. It would probably help me in editing that author. She was almost done with the book; but a few more additions won't hurt. Max qualified pole, he was so excited. He dropped me back at my room when I told him he should rest up before the race when he offered to watch a movie with me. He couldn't care less, he promised to win the race for me even with a little sleep. We ended up watching some movie. His girlfriend's annoyed face was etched in my brain through out the movie, so I decided to ask him about that. "Max, I'm sure your girlfriend minds you spending so much time with me" I suggested. "No, I told her I'm meeting you for the first time. She shouldn't care." he said. "I'm sure she does, she doesn't look very happy to me" I commented. "Don't think about it too much" Max said handing me the can of cold drink. I wasn't very satisfied, but there's only so much I could do.

The race was crazy, it got my heart beating really fast watching all of them zip past at such a high speed. Max did so well, he finished the race in P1 just like how he started it. Everyone rejoiced and headed to where Max was. GP took me with him. Max got out of the car and took his helmet off, his eyes were scanning the area. As soon as our eyes met he strode towards me. His girlfriend was a couple of steps away, before I knew it Max hugged me. "I won, just like I told you I would" he whispered. "Congratulations Max." I said while turning my head towards his girlfriend who looked visibly annoyed and quickly turned on her heels and left. "You shouldn't have done that" I told Max while pulling away. "Done what?" he questioned. "You should've gone to your girlfriend after winning your home race." I said. "She's here for so many of my races, you're not" he stated. I face palmed myself, "Doesn't matter Max, she probably hates me" I said. Max just shrugged his shoulders and went to get weighed.

After all the formality and interviews Max was on the top step of the podium. I was very proud of him and you could see it on my face. I couldn't find his girlfriend anywhere around. Max got down from the podium drenched in champagne trying to hug me while I pushed him away. "No, you'll get me all sticky" I shouted while running away from him.

[ Winning his home race felt special to Max because Y/N was watching. He walked right up to her the moment his eyes landed on her. He couldn't help but wrap himself around her. After the race, they were going out to celebrate his win because Y/N wanted to go out with the other drivers and so he agreed. After reaching his room to quickly shower and leave, he was met with his girlfriend who was sat on the edge of the bed. She didn't look happy and after a bit of back and forth; Max said it. The words that had been floating around in his head for a while now; he didn't know why he didn't say it sooner. He broke up with his girlfriend. He wasn't sad but rather relieved. He walked into the shower while his girlfriend packed everything up to leave]

[moethewriter]

Could you do one for Finnick where no one knows they are together except close friends, we know katniss doesn’t like him much at first and the reader knows the rebellion plan and obviously Finnick so she doesn’t stop him from flirting with her and maybe(?) thinks it’s amusing because she knows why he’s doing it but it’s revealed in the arena they’re together and katniss is shocked

I hope you like it! I was excited to write it but I fear I made it far more angsty and less flirty than you would like! TITLE: A Lover's Cry WORD COUNT: 1.8k PAIRING: Finnick Odair x Reader WARNINGS: General hunger games violence, secret relationships, angst and multiple POV! (Katniss, Reader) TAGS: Let me know if I need to tag anything else! A/N: I actually really loved writing this one, and i hope you enjoy it despite only loosely basing it off your prompt! Thank you so much for the request and as always I take constructive critisicsm! Not beta read as usual! -

“So what’s with those two?” Katniss questioned, pointing towards the screen.

She had watched Haymitch flick through the tributes, giving her and Peeta the basics on everyone who was going into the arena. Two had caught her eyes immediately, Finnick Odair from District 4, and Y/N L/N from District 8. She knew their names, their faces but she didn’t know anything about their skills or who they were. But both seemed far too polished, posh and pretty standing in front of their respective crowds. It seemed like they were ready to head back in there, almost like they wanted too. 

Haymitch turned towards the television.

“Finnick Odair and Y/N L/N.” He stated, watching the scenes of people he knew, waving towards the crowd of people. Picture perfect smiles adorning their faces.“The Capitol Darlings, everyone loves them … and people to watch out for. Finnick Odair, the youngest Victor in history at only fourteen and Y/N L/N took the top spot for kills from Beetee during her games. Took out nine people in one go. Extremely humble” He shook his head, remembering the brutality.

Katniss made a face. “You’re kidding right?” She snorted.

“Yes, I’m kidding.” Haymitch rolled his eyes. “They’re both peacocks, preeners … The Capitol loves their charm and friendship. They have a lot of support. They would make good allies … but deadly competition.” Haymitch explained.  

“Weaknesses?” Peeta questioned, leaning towards his mentor.

“Finnick will have Mags in there, she basically raised him. He’ll want to protect her in whatever ways he can” Haymitch told them, taking a seat. “Y/N … far too trusting at heart and will do anything to protect them both. She’d rather see herself die than her friends.” He stated.

Katniss simply nodded.

-

Katniss walked into the training room, and scanned her surroundings … She didn’t know these Victors well enough to decide who she wanted to align herself with. According to Haymitch … to make it through the Quarter Quell, she and Peeta needed strong allies. Though she knew deep down the only one she could truly depend on was Peeta. 

Katniss walked towards the bow and arrows laying on the table when she heard the sound of a faint giggle, something she thought she would never hear. She looked up, and her eyes moved around the room … finally they landed on the culprit. She frowned at the sight as she watched a blush rise on Y/N’s face. It wasn’t from endurance training, but from Finnick Odair. 

Katniss had not taken Finnick, refused to, even … he was far too cocky for her taste and she didn’t want him anywhere near her. But Y/N seemed almost enamoured by him … like she liked … whatever the hell was going on.

Katniss made a mental note of the two, as she headed towards Mags … she would keep that to herself for now. She needed to make some friends here, and Katniss thought that Mags would be a good start.

-

“You’re going to get us caught, Finnick.” You blushed, pushing him away as you headed in the opposite direction. “Play it cool, Odair … can’t have everyone knowing about us.” You whispered.

“Sorry.” Finnick put his hands up in defence, a small smile lacing his features. “I’ll try to tone it down but looking at you … that’s going to be hard to do.” 

“Zip it.” You made the motion of your lips. “We’ve got training to do.” You told him, gesturing towards the room.

Everyone else was laser focused on honing their skills, making it known that they were not to be messed with in the Games. But you two were simply goofing off, and giggling like two schoolgirls who had gossip that no one else knew. You were certain that Snow wasn’t pleased, nor was the new Game Maker but you were in your world. Finnick had always made it hard to concentrate on the task at hand.  

You and Finnick had been together for three years. During the 71st Hunger Games you had both been mentors for your respective Districts, and he had confessed to you. It was strange … so confusing to find love in the hardship of the Games but you wouldn’t trade that for the world. You loved him more than anything and he loved you right back. Long distance had been hard at first but you made it work, you would always make it work for him. 

“Find me later?” He asked.

“I know your room number.” You said, smiling towards him.

-

“I don’t know if I’m ready to go back in there.” You whispered, snuggling closer to Finnick.

You knew the plan, and you knew you had to get Katniss and Peeta out of that arena. Plutarch and Haymitch had made that abundantly clear. There was a Rebellion and Plutarch was on your side, he was hiding in plain sight, ready to take down The Capitol. You jumped at the chance to join, even if that meant sacrificing your own life. Finnick had agreed immediately once he knew you were joining. He had always shared your sentiments about having a better future for everyone.

You wanted a better life, a quiet life with him and you would fight for that every single day. You finally had your chance, and you had no idea if it was going to work but you had to try, you had to fight.

“I know.” He whispered, his thumb gliding across your hip. “I’m not either.”

“When we’re in there …” You muttered, kissing his jaw. “You have to remember that Katniss and Peeta are the most important ones there. Okay? You have to protect them first and everything else comes later.” 

He smelt like vanilla, probably from the soap supplied from The Capitol, but it was so soothing to you.

“I … I don’t know if I can do that.” Finnick said, plainly. “I know this Rebellion is important … I know that they are important but they’re not the most important things to me, Y/N. You and Mags will always be far more important than some Rebellion.” 

“Finnick.” You felt the lump rise in your throat.

This could be the last time that you two were together, and you weren’t handling it well. You knew you would never be safe again after winning The Games. You were well aware that you would never have peace again, but you didn’t think you would be in this position ever again. You certainly didn’t want to be here with Finnick.

“Let’s just be together right now.” He said, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s pretend that nothing is going to happen tomorrow and we're just laying under the stars and nothing is going to go wrong.” His breathing started to even out, and his heartbeat steadied your own.

“Okay.” You whispered, desperately swallowing. “Okay.”

-

“Finnick! Katniss!” You cried, chasing them into the woods, Johanna and Peeta on your tail.

The Games hadn’t been going as planned. 

First you had been separated from Finnick, which had caused you great distress. You ended up pairing with Johanna, Beetee and Wiress, fighting your way through blood rain and wild beasts. 

Then you had lost both Wiress and Mags. You had lost so many who joined The Rebellion, you watched the announcements every night and flinched whenever a cannon fired, wondering if you were losing a friend or foe. But you didn’t have time to grieve either of them, so much was at stake. You had to make it through another night to ensure that you would be saved. Giving up when you were so close wasn’t an option

But God you were so tired.

Then … the jabberjays started. 

You hated jabberjays.

They hadn't been used during your games, but you knew they tortured anyone who listened.

You had stepped out to find something food for everyone, and Beetee volunteered to come with you. You were all hungry, and getting weaker, especially after the fight at the cornucopia. You needed some sort of energy, and you weren’t going to see anyone die of starvation. 

You had been gone for maybe twenty minutes when you heard Katniss scream, shortly followed by Finnick. Fear had seized your heart, as you wasted no time chasing the sounds, Beetee desperately calling for you. 

You weren’t afraid to fight whatever threat was out there … especially when Finnick’s life was on the line. You would gladly die if it meant he lived.

You had met up with everyone, chasing down the other two and when you had found them, screaming, Jabberjays fluttering above them … your voice crying for help … you had cried, desperately trying to reach Finnick but to no avail. 

He and Katniss were trapped, writhing on the ground … sobbing and there was nothing you could do but wait.

It had been horrible to watch, you could only imagine what they were experiencing. 

You didn’t care who knew anymore, you would scream from the rooftops that you were in love with Finnick, if that meant he would be okay. You needed him to be okay.

It seemed like hours before the Jabberjays had flown away, and you had run to his side in an instant. Holding him close to you, assuring him that you were okay. 

“Y/N?” His voice sounded so goddamn small.

“I’m here baby.” You whispered, into his ear, gently rocking the man. “I am here, and I am okay. You’re okay.” You leaned in and kissed his forehead.

You were well aware of the shocked eyes on you, no one but Johanna knew anything about the two of you, and you met the brown eyes of Katniss. She seemed the most shocked out of anyone here. You knew she didn’t particularly like Finnick, she had only really met the persona he portrayed to the world. She didn’t know him like you did, you knew his heart.

“Everything is going to be okay.” You told him. “It’s going to be all okay.”

-

“He loves them.” Katniss said after a moment of silence, watching the two figures in the water.

She wondered how she could have missed it, all the signs were there yet she had been shocked. She didn’t understand the two, probably never would but that wasn’t really any of her concern.

“Yeah.” Johanna nodded. “They do. They’ve been through a lot together, I’ve known for a long time that those two were together. It’s disgusting really how much they love each other, they would quite literally kill for one another. Can’t blame them though, when you find someone like that you keep them close to your heart.” She shrugged. 

“I never thought …” Katniss trailed off.

“That anyone could ever love someone that much?” Johanna questioned, crossing her arms. “Well believe it, Katniss, because it’s right there.”

Katniss moved her gaze away from Johanna and back towards the water, the kiss was short and sweet but in that moment she knew that nothing could break those two apart. Nothing would, and they had something worth fighting for.

[genericpuff]

hi, i know the episode came out weeks ago, but i wanted to talk about ep 277 and your essay on it. i thought it was very well thought out and had brought up lots of concerns abt apollo's other victims and the harm persephone caused to others that i just. hadn't really thought about myself because honestly this webcomic is a BLUR to me LOL. thank you for writing these insights and putting them online for others to read ! i think you manage to keep a respectful distance to rachel [1/]

Yeah, regarding how the SA was handled...

I think Rachel did exactly as well as anyone might have expected someone like her to write a plotline like that.

Honestly if Rachel really did want to do the arrow thing, I think it would have worked WAY better if she had used the arrow of hate. First of all, because it had already been established back in S2 when it was shot at him by Psyche, but ALSO because making it an arrow of love confirmed that Eros literally did what Apollo asked despite the fact that he's Persephone's best friend and should have been more suspicious of what he was going to use it for. Why not just do a bait & switch where Apollo is under the impression that it's an arrow of love but Persephone trusts in her friend and pieces it together that it's probably an arrow of hate? It would also payoff the whole "news crew being nearby" thing (as well as all the other gods that just randomly showed up) because uh oh now they all see his true nature and he can't hide behind his lies anymore!

After all, as I mentioned in my previous post about this (the one I believe you're referring to) it's not like there wasn't already foreshadowing that Apollo was going to fall on his own sword the way of Mr Waternoose from Monster's Inc, he was already showing signs of cracking under the guilt that he was feeling towards how he treated Persephone/Eris/Hermes/etc. so why did it have to be Persephone taking a massive risk by sticking him with an arrow of love that still doesn't fully explain why he would even suddenly be a changed man? Loads of people like Apollo think they're in love / define their infatuation as love so I don't see how an arrow of love would suddenly make him empathetic to her pain. Especially when, again, he still begs her not to make him confess, so the guilt he's feeling is still completely empty and unmotivated.

I will leave this with one final thing that I saw the other day that very much reminded me of the Apollo SA plotline and I think it rings very true for the misdirected conclusion of the plot itself:

One of the biggest issues of the Apollo SA plotline, at least in my opinion, is that it never really gets to the root of why people like Apollo exist. There absolutely were strong foundations for this - he's the son of a guy who's known for being a serial cheater, he's popular and egotistical and is used to women wanting him, etc. - but all of those foundations kind of fell to the wayside in favor of turning Apollo into just another boogeyman, especially to lift Hades up as a "good man" by comparison (when Hades himself also falls on this spectrum). But many people like Apollo aren't just random guys in an alleyway or conspiring with some "higher power" that's manipulating them, they're men who fundamentally do not understand consent and assault on the varying spectrums in which it exists from "SA just exists, oh well" passiveness to "I'm an actual monster who gets pleasure out of victimizing women" aggressiveness. I think there's a lot to discuss about how people like Apollo exist WITHOUT sympathizing with them, but LO manages to do neither - not only does it give us uncomfortable and unnecessary looks into the rapist's POV more than we get the victims, but it does it in a way that doesn't actually address the issue of how people like Apollo come to be, it's just "Apollo is the big evil boogeyman who raped Persephone". Not only does it not actually put enough focus on the victims, but it reduces the societal and cultural complexities of where Apollo's brand of egotistical entitlement comes from to just "some guys just be evil like that". Guys like Apollo don't just come out of the womb like that, they're often shaped into what they are by a society that both excuses them for awful behavior towards girls ("Boys will be boys!") and enables - if not outright encourages - them to objectify women as trophies that they're entitled to. Even the seemingly innocent and sentimental practice of "giving away a bride" at a wedding is rooted in these patriarchal systems, with the belief that a woman first "belongs" to her father before being "given to" her husband.

It's the part of feminism that often gets overlooked - it's not just about uplifting female voices and helping survivors speak up about and heal from SA, it's also about deconstructing and challenging the patriarchal systems that lead to SA victims being created in the first place. Sure, Apollo got sentenced to building temples in the Mortal Realm, but what is that actually doing to address the bigger topic of how men like him come to exist in the first place? Especially when it was also treated as a good thing for TGOEM to be disbanded, instead of, idk... reworking it into a women's support group for survivors like Persephone?

IDK, it's a very complicated subject that you can approach from a million different angles, I don't think that my criticizing it should outweigh the opinions of those who were satisfied with the punishment that was given to Apollo (my saying the SA plotline sucked doesn't mean you're not allowed to find your own validation in it) but I do think that, at best, Rachel ended the SA plotline the only way she could because she herself is just not equipped to tackle such broad subjects that require a lot more education, experience, and nuance than what she's capable of writing. There are definitely 1298423108 better ways that plotline could have been resolved, but not with Rachel Smythe at the helm.

And that's my many cents on that.

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem! reader | part seven

summary: you and luca go to a club opening and take an opportunity to learn more about each other.

warnings: fluff, smut (18+ only), eventual angst not use of y/n, conversations about divorce, slow burn, baby, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 5.3k

listen to: the official 'burn your life down' playlist

a/n: hi cuties. here is a long chapter with a whole lot of juicy content considering i've been gone all week. i'm also hard launching what luca's last name could be in this series -- something i've brainstormed with @arctvrvs and @superhoeva. there IS smut so please be respectful of it being 18+ only content.

also: mild implication on reader/mc having some kind of asian heritage, but you can super not take it that way, which is why i wrote joe's family as japanese-english. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

part six | masterlist | part eight

“Cool shoes,” you say, your eyes fixed to Luca’s choice of Nikes for the night, instantly chuckling to yourself as you realize how silly the words coming out of your mouth sound. It’s like you’re a kid again, sitting on the back of the bus with her crush, trying to come up with something– anything – to say.

Luca chuckles, stealing a glance your way as he replies, “Yeah I've got a bit of a thing for them – trainers.”

“I… noticed,” you say, exchanging a look with him, your eyes meeting his as the two of you sit side by side on the train.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, with a raised eyebrow. 

“Well, there’s the coffee table book – that and you wore some to the ballet,” you explain, a blush running across your cheeks. 

“You noticed that?” he questions with a hint of amusement in his voice, only a little surprised that you’ve picked up on the little things before he’s shared them with you. 

“I notice you,” you answer, your voice quieter, yet genuine in your admission.”

He smirks. 

“And?”

“And… so far, I like what I see,” you flirt, boldly, this time. 

The right side of his mouth turns up into a small smile, and while you’re too busy reading his facial expressions, Luca’s busy finding your hand with his. You can feel it: the lightest touch that sets off butterflies in your belly, his fingers tangling with yours as you ride the train with him to Vesterbro, the humble beginnings of something good. 

As Luca continues glancing over at you, he shakes his head incredulously, letting out a small laugh in the opposite direction. 

“Hmm?” you hum, inquisitively, stealing a glance his way this time. 

“You just ehm…” he trails off, almost as if he’s not sure how to say what he wants to say next. “... you look… really beautiful tonight.” 

“Uh-, I-, Thank you,” you stumble through, deciding you’ll just accept his compliment. 

It’s not like you don’t know it – didn’t know what you were doing when you put on the barely-there lace bodysuit meant to be a lingerie teddy, that lays perfectly layered underneath your high rise pair of denim. The plunge neckline is cut deep, showcasing quite a bit of inner boob, so much of your cleavage, that you put pasties on just in case. You can tell Luca’s having trouble not ogling you as you smirk, giving his hand a confident squeeze. 

As you get off the train and back up to street level, you discover that it’s not a long walk to where the newly-opened club is located. Luca hasn’t let go of your hand and you savor the feeling of new love as the two of you walk hand in hand. 

“So explain to me again what all the drama’s about again,” Luca requests, recalling something you previously mentioned. 

“Oh it’s a whole thing,” you sigh, as you begin trying to explain yesterday’s gossip. “The guy Jesper is dating is one of the guys opening the club. I don’t think it’s serious, perhaps just a… fling of sorts, but Jesper’s ex-girlfriend who he dated for two years is a… well, she’s a bit of an influencer and it’s a whole thing because she’ll be there too.”

“Ooof,” Luca sounds, giving you a grateful hand squeeze. 

“Yeah. Any ex girlfriends we might run into tonight?” you ask, only half-joking. 

Luca shakes his head, “I doubt it. I don’t get out much.” He pauses. “Think my last serious ex-girlfriend moved to Spain a year ago or so.”

You hum in response, momentarily relieved that the likelihood of running into any of Luca’s exes tonight is low, considering it wasn’t something you’d worried about until the words were coming out of your mouth. You’re ready to wait in the line that’s formed outside of the club until you hear the sharp sound of Jesper calling your name, waving you into the club. You watch as he exchanges words with the bartender, while Luca mutters something to you about how fancy he feels about skipping the line. 

You and Luca follow Jesper down the long, dark hallway, the feeling of pulsating music and a heavy bassline undulating underneath your feet with each step. It feels more like a grungy club in Berlin than Copenhagen, but it seems like it’s what they’re going for, and you thank your past-self for choosing to wear something this sexy. While you feel out of place, at least you look like you knew what you were getting yourself into. 

“I’m glad you made it!” Jesper shouts over the loud music as he leads you and Luca to a table in the VIP area. 

“What? Thought I’d skip?” you shout back with a raised eyebrow. 

This time, Jesper leans in closer, “Thought you and Prince Charming would have a hard time leaving the bedroom now that you two are-.”

“Jesper!”

“What?” he asks with a shrug, looking from you to Luca, who sends you a quizzical look of his own. 

You send him an ‘I’m so sorry’ look before ignoring Jesper’s comment. 

“I don’t think I’m drunk enough for this yet,” you say, and you’re only half-joking. 

“Can I get you a drink?” Luca asks, overhearing your comment. 

“Yes,” you nod, before telling him your drink order. 

“Great. I’ll go,” he offers, though it’s more like a confirmation than anything else. He leaves the sweetest peck on your lips, earning a look from Jesper as you watch Luca disappear into the crowd. 

“Please don’t tell me you haven’t-,” Jesper groans. 

“We haven’t,” you interject, firmly. 

“You’ve got more self control than I would,” Jesper sighs, disappointedly as he shakes his head your way. 

Before you can reply, a pair of arms are wrapping around you as Mathilde’s voice follows with:

“Jesus Christ! Who said you could be hotter than me at my brother’s fling’s club opening?” Mathilde teases you, giving you a big hug. 

“It’s not just a fling!” Jesper protests at the same time as you, replying with: “It’s good to see you too, Mathilde.”

It really had only been a few hours since you closed down the restaurant for the night, but seeing the Mikkelson twins off the clock was a whole other animal. You can imagine a time, when they were both single, that the two of them could have ruled the Copenhagen social scene – two fiery forces to be reckoned with. 

“So have we run into the ex-girlfriend yet?” you ask, desperate to get the spotlight off of whether you and Luca had slept together yet. 

“Ahhhh,” Mathilde smirks. “No sign yet, but my money is on a fashionably late arrival.”

“What’s the drama? Claudio knows you’re bi. You and Sofia ended on good terms. I don’t get it,” you ask, curiously. 

“Because it’s Claudio’s big night. And I don’t want anything to fuck with it,” Jesper begins. 

“And because Jesper’s a big drama queen,” Mathilde adds, as her brother glares at her in response. 

“Who cares about how the night goes,” you chime in, from the perspective of an optimist.

“So you and Luca…” Mathilde solicits, raising her eyebrows a few times cheekily. 

“It’s good,” you guys, a broad smile spreading across your lips. “I mean… it’s really, really good.”

It’s good morning texts. And funny cartoons he sends you from the paper. And using him as a soundboard for new dish ideas.

“I’m proud of you, babe,” Mathilde smiles proudly. “For taking the leap.”

“I-,” you begin, before pausing. “Me too. I’m proud of me too.”

It’s then that you see Luca appear, just at the opening of the VIP area, headed in your direction with Emil following closely behind. 

“Hey!” you greet the both of them as they approach. While Luca has your drinks, Emil carries a tray filled with shots that you're not entirely sure you’re ready for. Your eyes widen. “Shots?”

Emil only shrugs, as Jesper corrals you, Luca, and Mathilde for a round of shots. You all pick up the soon-to-be-yours shot glasses, as Luca scoots over so that he stands closely, next to you. 

He leans in, the feeling of his lips ghosting over your ear sends a chill down your spine as he murmurs, “How much do you want to bet we’ll regret this tomorrow?”

“Oh, so much,” you answer, turning ever so slightly towards him, your lips inchest away from his. 

“To a night of letting loose,” Jesper shouts over the loud music as he begins his toast. “To old friends.” He pauses, toasting his glass towards Luca this time. “And new.” 

“Skal!”

“Skal!” you all echo as you cheers. 

“Eye contact!” Jesper orders, earning a laugh from you and another questioning look from Luca. 

Over the electronic music and flashing laser lights, you take in the sound of shot glasses hitting the table, the faces made in response to the bitter liquid, the whoops and cheers of a triumphant first shot of the night. 

You set your shot glass down on the tray along with the other empty ones as Luca asks you:

“Eye contact?”

“Yeah,” you shrug in response, taking a more flirtatious approach as you continue your explanation. “You’ve gotta make eye contact while you cheers or it’s seven years of bad sex.”

“Huh,” Luca smirks in response as you take his hand. 

“I think I’m ready for a proper drink now,” you coo, a seductive tone in your voice that Luca hasn’t heard yet. 

He likes it. Not just because it’s for him, but because he likes discovering these new parts of you, unraveling you as he goes, finding something different every time. 

And the more he learns, the more he likes you. 

He really likes you.

Luca is quick to locate where he put your drinks down right before you started taking shots. He hands you yours, then goes for his this time, raising his glass towards you. 

“Cheers,” you say with a raise of an eyebrow. 

“Cheers,” he replies, clinking his glass with yours with immovable eye contact. 

You raise your glass to your lips, taking your first sip, as Luca does the same, holding your gaze the entire time as if it’s a damn promise. Before anything can get too heated (because you swear the way he’s looking at you could start a forest fire) you hear the sound of Mathilde’s voice as she saunters over to the two of you. 

“Luca!” you hear her call out. “Come. Have a sit. I want to know everything about you.” 

You giggle, watching her usher Luca away so that she can bombard him with questions, and your heart fills with warmth. He’s here – meeting your friends, meeting your people – and you don’t even feel like running in the opposite direction. 

-------------------------------

In tandem with the loud, pulsating dance music, you move your hips in a swaying motion, against the feel of Luca’s tall, broad body. You’ve got your arms wrapped around his neck and at this point, you’re quite sure you’ve lost count of the drinks you’ve had. 

That anyone’s had, really. 

“Have I told you how absolutely ravishing you look tonight?” Luca rasps, leaning down so that the sound he makes vibrates right against your ear. 

You let out a gasp, the feel of his body pressed up against yours and the sound of his voice all feel too good. 

“I think last time you said ‘beautiful,’” you tease him, playfully. 

“Why can’t it be both, darling?” he asks you, grinning down at you. 

Instead of answering, you pull him towards you, pressing your mouth to his in a passionate attempt, yet very sloppy, drunk kiss. 

Do you want to get out of here? is what you think he’s going to say, but instead, Luca pulls back from the kiss, only to lean in once more as he whispers in your ear:

“Are you hungry?”

You laugh at the unexpected question, and suddenly, it becomes apparent to you that you’re starving. 

“Yes. You wanna get out of here?” you ask back. 

“Lead the way.”

Knowing it’ll take longer than you’d like for it too, you bypass the idea of trying to find everyone to say goodbye, and skip right to the Irish Goodbye, leading Luca out of the noisy club and back out to the bustling streets that are the red light district. The two of you are blissfully drunk and giggly as you sit on the train, on the way back to your place.

You’re more than grateful that you live so close to the train station, since it’s only a quick walk back to your apartment.

“I can’t believe those girls from the train were only just starting their night’s. Can you believe it?” you ask with a giggle, as Luca follows you up the stairs of your walk up. You fidget with your keys, unlocking the door as you continue on about how you’re not twenty five anymore and tonight’s reminded you that you can barely keep up now.

But Luca doesn’t answer your question. 

Instead, as soon as you close the door behind you, he’s pressing you up against it and kissing you like he’s going off to war tomorrow. You sigh his name against his lips as you kiss him back, completely turned on by the brute force of a man as tall as him. Your head spins as you realize that he’s only just started kissing you and he’s already got you this hot and bothered. You can’t tell whether it’s the alcohol, the way his lips move expertly against yours, or the way his hands snake up your torso, inching dangerously close to the exposed skin of your plunging lace teddy. 

“Touch me,” you gasp as an encouragement, impatient with the way your nerves seem to be screaming for more of his touch.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, his large hands moving to cover your breasts, only confirming his suspicions that you’ve been braless this whole time. 

This new discovery leads to another moan from his mouth as his hands wrap around you, pulling you closer to him. Luca presses his forehead against yours, abruptly breaking the kiss, his breath heavier, more uneven now. 

“Fuck, I think I might be too pissed for this,” Luca murmurs, as you try to catch your breath, knowing that he means drunk. 

You giggle, as you admit, “That’s-. Yes. I… too am very drunk.” 

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he starts up again, leaving a small kiss on your lips. “But I’m not sure that’s quite the impression I want to leave on you either.” 

“That’s… so respectable,” you say on an exhale, in pure disbelief of how perfect this man is. 

“Plus,” he continues, in between kisses as his lips begin to place gentle kisses along your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. “When we do finally sleep together. I want you to remember. Every. Single. Thing. I do to you.”

You’re not sure whether you feel completely sexually frustrated or entirely turned on by how responsible of a decision Luca’s making for the both of you, considering the circumstances. Luca leaves a trail of kisses up your neck once more earning a moan from you as manage to get out:

“Fuck, okay. Just let me cook you something.” 

You both laugh as he agrees to the terms of your agreement. You playfully shove Luca off of you, knowing that you won’t be able to function much longer if he stays pressed up against you like this. 

“Wait here,” you order, holding up your index finger as if to say, ‘give me a moment,’ before disappearing into your bedroom. 

-------------------------------

By the time you emerge from your bedroom, you’ve changed into one of your favorite t-shirts to sleep in – an old, mildly tattered Rolling Stones tee that you once bought at the thrift shop back in college. Luca’s kicked off his shoes and has found a few of your cookbooks that he’s started flipping through as you pull an amalgam of half-full frozen dumpling bags out of your freezer. With your pan on the stovetop preheating, you silently offer Luca a glass of water, before leaving a soft kiss on his lips once more. 

You put a little music on, just something soft for the background as you add oil to the increasingly hot pan. Luca hums along with the song that’s playing, cookbook in one hand, glass of water in the other, as he approaches you, making his way to the kitchen island that sits directly across from your gas stove. He settles in, placing both objects down on the counter top as he sits down on the barstool you have tucked underneath the kitchen island. 

There’s a quiet intimacy about the way you move around each other, so comfortable, so familiar, even if you’ve only just met within the last few months. The sound of sizzling hot oil as you place the first frozen dumpling down into the pan adds texture to the symphony of your evening: your choice of music, Luca’s soft humming, the way the pan slides against the coils of your gas stove as you shake it. 

“Did you grow up cooking like this?” Luca asks, breaking the comfortable silence between you. 

“Uh… yes. And also no,” you reply, cryptically, ready to explain more. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Luca says with a chuckle. “You know… when I met you. When I first came to the restaurant… I was pleasantly surprised.” He takes a beat, taking a quick sip of water as he explains himself. “It’s just that the whole fusion thing got a little tired, a little too played out, but you seem to have given it new breath… new life.” Luca flips the page of the book he’s been examining. 

“And I recall you saying something about an Italian restaurant… so the Asian inspired flavors….”

“Yeah, no, it’s a great question,” you reply, turning to look at him as you let the bottoms of the dumplings crisp up. “So my mom was a single parent – raised me solo. Growing up we ate a lot of easy things… you know, like frozen dumplings… and lots of Stouffer’s lasagnas which… you could say that that combination alone is perhaps the foundation of discovering my culinary voice.” 

You chuckle, recalling your childhood memories as you share more.

“So no, I didn’t grow up cooking with her often. We didn’t do the whole… sit around a table and make dumplings for hours kind of thing, but Mom always has a bag of ‘em in the freezer and chili oil on hand. But yes, I grew up cooking like this, more so than anything I do now.”

Luca nods as he listens, his half smile growing as you so openly share about yourself. The way he responds to you – to learning about you – only makes you want to share more. It’s all true… but it’s not the whole story. 

“Do you have siblings?” he asks, curiously. 

“Nope, just me,” you answer, before deciding that you really do want to answer Luca’s initial question. 

“I actually learned a lot of this stuff – about miso, how to make a proper dashi, how to pleat dumplings – from Joe. From his mom,” you hesitate, before pausing. 

You want to check in with Luca, searching his face for any kind of reaction, before you proceed to talk about your ex husband considering you were so close to getting naked with him just minutes ago. 

“Is it okay… if I talk about him?” 

“Yeah,” Luca answers with a shrug, as if it were the simplest answer in the world. “He was a big part of your life – of you. And I like learning about you.” 

You accept his answer, trying your best to be cool about the fact that the level of emotional maturity it takes to respond that way really impresses the hell out of you. Realizing that it’s time to add water to your fry pan you turn your back to Luca momentarily once more. You add the smallest bit of water from your drinking glass, a white hot sound filling your ears as the cooking process goes from pan-frying to pan-steaming. You cover the pan tightly with its lid before turning back to Luca. 

“Joe’s family… they’re Japanese-English, which is really where I learned to start blending my own stories into food,” you explain, with an honesty that makes you feel incredibly naked right now. “His mom would teach me very traditional Japanese recipes when we first started dating – I think it’s how she knew how to connect with me, how we got to know each other, and I was more than eager to learn. we got to know each other. I… sort of always had a thing for food, for cooking, and learning things I didn’t necessarily learn in my immediate family unit… it was cool, you know? I just, I didn’t think it could really be a career, wasn’t my priority at the time to be an artist as the full-time gig.”

“But the more I learned from her, the more I realized that it wasn’t dissimilar from what I’d learned growing up inside of my best friend’s family’s Italian restaurant. And it all just kind of… grew from there. After Joe and I got divorced, I figured it was now or never, take the leap, do the thing I always wanted to do.”

“Opening a restaurant. That was your dream?” he asks, searching for confirmation. You nod as he smiles proudly. 

“And look at you now.”

“Yes,” you chuckle, taking a breath. “Yeah, somehow I now have a whole new life and restaurant in Copenhagen.”

“You do,” Luca nods, admiration evident in his eyes. 

You take a beat because the way he looks at you sends another rush through you, and this time, you know it’s not the alcohol. 

“While we’re on the subject… What about you? What are your parents like?” you ask, shifting the spotlight over to him this time. 

“Well, like you, I grew up mostly with a single mom,” Luca replies, as a flash of recognition flashes through your eyes. 

“Mostly?” you question. 

“Yeah um..” he trails off.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t-,” you interject.

“No, I-, I want you to know,” he reassures you, a soft look in his eyes that makes you want to trust his word, as if he wants you to know him too. 

“Okay,” you say, softly. 

You’re not sure a man’s ever let you in like this before and it feels terrifying and electric all at once. 

“My full name is Luca Davies-Bernardi,” he starts. “...but I dropped the last part when I turned eighteen.” Luca flips another page over, glancing down quickly before he returns his gaze to yours. 

“My mum had me when she was pretty young. Got a bit of the short end of the stick when my dad left her and me. I was… three or four maybe? A real tosser, if you ask me.”

“Woah,” you sound on an exhale, as you listen. 

“Yeah,” he scoffs, before continuing. 

“He got another woman pregnant. Moved back to Italy instead of staying here with us. Apparently I’ve got a sister, out there… somewhere.”

You wait a beat before asking:

“And he never tried to keep in touch?”

“He tried,” Luca admits, a hint of bitterness in the way the words come out. “But I was a really angry kid. And as I grew older, I just didn’t see the point.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, empathetically. 

“No it’s-, I dunno,” Luca shrugs. “I much rather put my energy into my relationship with my mum. We’re actually quite close.” 

“Yeah?” you ask with a smile, because it really is the most darling thing you’ve ever heard. 

“Yeah,” he answers, leaning in to show you the larger forearm piece he has on his left arm. “I got this tattoo for her. She was a nurse… for most of my childhood. It’s what she had to do, so she worked a lot. I had a lot of time on my hands, perhaps why I got into so much trouble as a kid. Really put her through it till I started working in the kitchen.”

“You little rebel, you,” you tease him, with a giggle. Turning your attention back to your stovetop, you remove the lid and the pan for its heat source, before turning off the stove entirely. Giggling again you add, “You know, I’m just trying to picture it. 

“Oh, I’m sure I have a few old photos around my flat somewhere,” Luca laughs, as if it’s a promise that he’ll show you someday.

“Your mom sounds like a badass,” you sigh, making your way around your small kitchen island so that you’re standing right in front of him. 

“So does yours,” he replies, reaching for your hands. 

As your eyes take in the ink that adorns his hands and his arms, you drag your fingertips across the little designs: the A, the scotch bonnet, the nurse tattoo he got for his mother. 

“And I like them… your tattoos,” you finally say, breaking the momentary silence between the two of you. 

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, his eyes catching yours as you look up at him. 

“Yesssss. They are… very sexy,” you smirk in return, biting down on your lower lip as you run your fingertips along his inked forearms. 

“Glad you like ‘em. They’re permanent,” he preens, showing off cheekily

“Oh shut up,” you tease him as you place the gentlest peck against his full lips. 

He chuckles, pulling you in for another kiss, this time deepening it. 

As Luca kisses you, your mind wanders to his choice of words. 

Permanent. 

Of course it’s too freaking soon to think anything else of it other than this: 

If it were up to him, Luca’s not planning on going anywhere anytime soon. 

-------------------------------

As the morning light trickles in through your bedroom window, it dawns on you that you are not alone. You blink your eyes open, taking in the image of the gorgeous man that lays beside you. 

The one who you ate dumplings with on your couch in the early hours of the morning. The one that fell asleep with you in your bed last night, because there was no way in hell you were letting him walk home at 4 am. The one who's making your heart race and your head spin and who reminds you that there is romance in this world. 

Yep, that one. 

You slip out of bed, careful not to wake him as you get up to pee, the massive headache a result of far too many drinks consumed last night. You tiptoe into your kitchen, filling up your glasses from last night with fresh water before heading back to the bedroom. 

“Good idea,” Luca says, as he notices the glasses of water you return with. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” you ask. 

He shakes his head, “It’s alright.”

“Figured they’d be helpful considering neither of us are 21 any more,” you joke in reference to the water, as Luca sits up in your bed. 

Handing him his glass, he happily takes it before taking a few greedy sips of water. It’s a silent exchange: he hands you the water glass and you place it back on your bedside table before crawling back into bed with him. 

The way you fit curled up against his side feels better than you imagined as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, whispering a soft ‘good morning.’ 

“Morning,” you reply softly. 

You’re not sure how long you lay there, or how long it takes, or who makes the first move, but one minute you’re peacefully snuggled up to Luca’s side, and the next, he’s all over you, rolling you over onto your back as he presses hot kisses to your mouth, to your neck, his hands snaking underneath your favorite Rolling Stones t-shirt as you sigh out his name. 

“Luca.”

“Yes, love?”

You repeat your plea from last night – now that neither of you are intoxicated. 

“Touch me.” 

No longer hesitant, Luca grabs at your breasts, his face buried in your neck as he sucks, kisses, leaves love bites all over you as you arch your chest up into his hands. Large hands cover each breast and you moan as you feel his thumbs graze your nipples, your breathing becoming heavier with each touch. 

“God, you’re incredible,” he murmurs into your skin, one hand making its way down your body at a smooth, slow pace. His fingers play with the waistband of your panties, and he knows that he’s got you in the palm of his hand as you’re more than impatient for him to continue his exploration. 

“May I?” he asks cooly.

You let out a frustrated moan, anticipating his touch like your life depends on it. 

“Please,” you beg, a desperateness in your voice that you’re unfamiliar with. 

“Well when you ask so nicely,” Luca smirks, cockily. 

You wish you had it in you to roll your eyes, to shake your head, to tell him to shut it, but as soon as his fingers slip into your panties, your mind goes blank. He sighs softly at the feel of you, then puts all of his energy into sliding your panties down your legs, the wet heat of you already slick with desire for him. 

“My god,” he groans, as soon as his fingers find the wetness that’s pooled between your legs. “This all for me?” 

And you don’t even have it in you to reply, letting out a loud, keening moan as his fingers slide through your folds, parting them as he explores new territory. They move up a few inches, dragging your wetness up and down your core, expertly finding your clit as you hiss in pleasure. 

“What do you think?” you bite back, letting out another moan. 

Luca smirks, watching as you writhe underneath him, enjoying the way you look at his mercy. 

“I think,” he begins, his fingers rubbing circles around your clit, earning a gasp from your mouth. “I know. That this is all for me.”

“Fuck!” you cry out as Luca pushes his index finger into you. 

The way you feel stretching around his finger elicits a moan from him too this time. 

“You’re so tight, love,” he groans, as if he’s getting off to the idea of you. 

You fall into a haze as Luca begins to fuck you with his finger. One. Then two. And before you know it, he’s moving at a rapid pace, his fingers buried deep inside of you, hitting that spongy spot inside of you that has you calling out his name while his thumb comes up to pay close attention to your clit once again. You’re on the edge, ready to come undone, the coil that’s building in your belly ready to burst. 

It’s all Luca, and fuck, and I’m so close, and yes right there, are met with groans of your name, eyes that look at you like you’re a work of art, and hands that are intent on bringing you to your climax. 

“I want to see you fall apart, love,” Luca commands, his voice low and raspy. 

And that’s all it takes for you to cum around his fingers while they work you through your climax so beautifully. You cry out his name, your eyes snapped shut as you experience one of the best orgasms you’ve had in a long time. 

“Holy shit,” you pant, trying your best to catch your breath as you come down. 

You whimper at the loss of him as he slides his fingers out of you, both hands come up to your torso as he kisses you passionately, deeply, breathlessly. 

“C’mon,” he says as he pulls away from the searing kiss, knowing that he is fully in control here. 

“Let’s get you some breakfast.”

-------------------------------

a/n: IS EVERYONE DOING OK BC WOW THE SEXUAL TENSION

[simpxxstan]

perfect complements (ch. 1)

pairing: professor!seungcheol x professor!f.reader

genre: fluff, enemies to lovers, angst, slight smut

series summary: four and a half years of working together breeds familiarity, resentment, and everything in between. it's almost like living together.

chapter word count: 2.1k

warnings: bickering (will be a major feature in this story, so please do not read if verbal fights are not your cup of tea), seungcheol smokes.

a/n: seventeen is my new addiction and i'm not backing off! this is inspired from my dream life (hehe i want to be an econ prof). the series title is an econ term lolol sorry if it's too geeky. i think this series will have multiple spinoffs, maybe you can guess for which characters? all i can hope for is that i'll be able to pull through the plot till the very end and not get writers' block midway :(

slight heads up? seungcheol is 32 here, and the f. reader y/n is 33 here. wonwoo is 35-36, and minghao is slightly younger than seungcheol, probably 30. chan is 24-25 years old. y/n is shorter than seungcheol, and wears glasses. not much other physical description of y/n. also, this fic will probably have different povs, so this chapter is from seungcheol's pov.

thank you so much for reading! your reblogs, likes and comments mean sooo much honestly. i know every content creator says this, and i know we all mean it from our hearts.

enjoy some of my ult svt bias, seungcheollie!

series masterlist

With four and a half years of working together comes a ton of familiarity. Choi Seungcheol knows it annoyingly well: annoying because he’s greeted by the sight of your coat on his chair again, and well because this is a sight he sees nearly every Monday. Four years ago, he would have tried to explain to you that it’s a Monday morning, he didn’t want to come to take classes this early, and his patience is running thin, so it would be very nice if you could remember which chair was yours every morning when you came and took off your coat. Three years ago, he would have shrieked out, irritation burning through his veins. Two years ago, he would walk up to your desk, and spill your coffee all over the term paper you were currently checking. One year ago, he would purposely ruin your day even if it increased his headache tenfold just thinking about ways to annoy you. 

But not any more. Choi Seungcheol has decided you are not worth a penny of his hard earned money, a moment of his precious time, and a nano atom of his genius brain cells. He simply picks your coat and dumps it on the ground, deliciously close to the dustbin. He knows his ears shouldn’t perk up, but they do, and when they hear your reaction, it is so gratifying, it feels like he has won a World War. 

“Prof. Choi, if you feel you cannot respect the personal property of others, feel free to accompany me to the Dean’s Office.” You have somehow stomped up to him, standing right before him, as he pulls out the chair to his desk, taking in the endless papers and books that are arranged neatly before him. Your attitude never ceases to surprise him, given that you’re an entire head shorter than him, and even if you’re wearing heels, he can tower over you whenever you stomp up to him in these little furies. It makes you look like a little furry puppy, your hands on your hips, and Seungcheol thrives off the fire burning in your eyes. “There, there. I’d actually love to, but it seems that you need to remember how to respect public property and not hog over the space of others.” 

You’re staring at him above your glasses, which have slipped down to the middle of your nose, and god, Seungcheol finds it hilarious. He wants to burst out laughing, the only thing holding him on is his determination to not break character and push you further. 

“And if your routine morning tantrums are over, Seungcheol and Y/N, please settle down in your seats. It seems like I have to send you both to college again.” 

Said Dean’s voice booms out behind you, and although his voice is surprisingly firm, there’s a shit-eating grin on his face, and he walks towards the two of you. He picks up the coat, lying on the floor, and hands it to Y/N. Jeon Wonwoo does not miss out on how flustered you both look on getting caught during your little lovers’ quarrel, as Wonwoo likes to call it in his mind, all alone in the Economics Department Staffroom. 

“Morning Wonwoo! Enlighten me why no one else is here. Why am I stuck with this lady through this sad Monday morning?” 

Seungcheol leans back on his chair, casual now that Wonwoo has calmed down the mood. You walk back to your desk, which unfortunately is right opposite Seungcheol’s, but he’s used to your ugly face to stay unfazed by it now. It’s like a terrible gift from a nosy relative you’ve hung up on the wall for long enough that it doesn’t catch the eye anymore and is just… there. But he’s quick to take note of how you’re smiling at Wonwoo, your glasses have been pushed to the top of your head, revealing your forehead and the same tiny pair of diamond hoops you wear every day. 

It is, like he knows well, a scene of familiarity. And he really despises that fact. 

“Minghao has a conference, he’s in the States. This is in preparation for his exchange program thing.”

“Oh yeah, he texted me on Saturday that he’s leaving soon… wasn’t aware it’s today.” You speak softly, already opening your laptop to get started with your work for the day. 

“And Minhee is in the Girls’ Hostel.”

“Why?” You both ask, confused. “I thought Prof. Kim from History is the warden?” “Yes, but they’ve recently gone on their maternity leave. Minhee has to take over. And, bad luck for her, but on the very first day, there’s been a kind of emergency. Some punches were thrown while drunk, and now Minhee’s lecturing them.” “As if anyone’s gonna take her seriously,” Seungcheol scoffs, since everyone knew Minhee to be one of the coolest professors in the university. 

“Hey! They took me very seriously, thank you. This is the problem with men. Give them a woman with good tits and a kind face and they think she’s a dumb bitch to run over.” Minhee walks into the small Staffroom, looking very much exhausted but she’s never going to admit it. She plops down on your desk, pushing away the laptop. “Is the situation better now?” you ask, holding out your coffee to Minhee, asking her silently to take a sip. “Yes, thankfully. I’ll have to go and check again after classes get over for the day.”

“Well then, you’re all up to date. Don’t forget the meeting with the Faculty Coordinator today at 5 pm!” “Yes Sir,” you all echo unenthusiastically, as Wonwoo chuckles and walks out of the room. It’s going to be a long day and Seungcheol can already feel his temples buzzing. 

_

Six classes down, and he’s feeling the Monday blues wear off into a blissful exhaustion. At the end of the day, this is a profession he has not once regretted choosing. He absolutely adores spending time with his students- mostly. There’s always going to be a black sheep, like Lee Chan from his Advanced Game Theory course. Chan isn’t a bad guy, per se. He’s just over-enthusiastic and is always looking to impress: which results in him reading texts beyond his level just to try and make Seungcheol happy and end up confusing the entire concept. 

But at least dealing with the well-meaning Chan is better than going to the faculty counselling meeting with you. Well, not just with you. But he knows very well what he’s going to hear at the meeting, and he’s absolutely dreading it. He has nearly the same look on his face as his students do when they get the term results, he’s just better at masking it. 

As he walks into the Faculty Coordinator’s office, he sees you’re already sitting in a corner, staring outside the window, while Minhee is chatting with the Coordinator. He notices you glancing his way once, before turning your eyes towards the sky again. “Good Afternoon Prof. Choi! How are you doing?” Ms. Song looks at Seungcheol with warm eyes as he takes a seat. “I’m fine, thank you, and you?” It seems that nervousness has rendered Seungcheol incapable of forming sentences beyond nursery-level, and both Minhee and Ms. Song let out a small laugh at his childish response. “I’m sure you know why you’re here, Prof. Choi, as does Prof. Y/L/N. I’ll spare you the intro.” Minhee asks, “Am I really needed to be here?” Ms. Song says, “Prof. Jeon, unless you seriously want me to be alone with this pair who want to murder each other, I would really prefer if you could be here.” Seungcheol is blushing now, embarrassed to the toe. He can hear you groan, and Minhee somehow finds it all funny enough to smile. “If it's so amusing to you, Minhee, you can leave. We swear we won’t kill each other today, if we’ve been able to control ourselves all this time.” Seungcheol’s not even looking at you, but the sarcasm is biting his skin. 

“Alright, alright. Calm down, Prof. Y/L/N. Remember, aggression is not the key. We’re here for resolutions.” 

“Well then, could we please proceed to the point directly?”

“You’re in a rush on a Monday? You play baseball with the kids after class-” you ask him, staring into his face.

“I have a date today after class.” 

That shuts you up for good, and Seungcheol feels queasy. It’s one thing trying to get the last word in, and it’s another to hit your weak point just to get the last word in. He wants to explain but Ms. Song interrupts. “I’ll cut the chase. From what I can see now, and from all the reports I’ve received in the last three months, there’s been not much improvement from the situation we had observed earlier. In fact, it’s only gotten more alarming-”

“Ever since I’ve turned thirty-three,” you sigh, but Ms. Song ignores you. 

“I’ve spoken to the Dean, Dr. Wonwoo, and also to some of the other faculty members you share your classes and university space with. We collectively think it’s only fair to say that your interpersonal relationship is harming the kind of environment we want to foster in our university. It is, by no means, a new development, and students of several batches have noticed this relationship of yours as well. This kind of banter, which includes quite serious threats at times-” she raises a hand to quieten Seungcheol’s attempt to interrupt, “is not conducive to a healthy academic environment.”

You both sigh, you whisper something along the lines of it’s not that serious, and although Seungcheol hates to say it out loud, he agrees with you. 

“I would recommend you both to go to the University Counsellor and take a few… bonding sessions over the next semester. We think this kind of banter is not too serious, we’re extremely hopeful of a resolution. It’s just not happening right now, because you’re not aware of the efforts to be taken. Once you sit with a counsellor, the path will be clearer-”

Seungcheol doesn’t even realise when he’s stood up. It feels stuffy. He had thought he was long past the age of getting reprimanded for fighting with his peers. 

“I really have to leave now. Thank you for the talk, Ms. Song. I’ll get back to you with my schedule and we can set up the meetings with the counsellor.”

“Prof. Choi.” The voice is stern, and Seungcheol holds up. He needs a cigarette, or fresh air. Neither is really available right now, so he grips on to the chair to steady himself. “I will mail you the meetings and Plan of Action, and you shall adjust your schedule accordingly. You know the consequences-” Seungcheol nods before the threat gets completed. Wonwoo has explained the consequences several times to him. 

“I will do so. Don’t worry, Ms. Song. You shall get nothing but my best efforts.” “I hope so. Really.” 

Seungcheol finally steps out of the room, and heaves deep breaths to get his brain working again. His phone rings, as he walks down the stairs to get away from the building. He picks it up while lighting the cigarette between his lips as he leaves the campus-

“Hello Cheollie! Should I come over to your place to pick you up or-”

“Hyerin?”

“What? Did you forget about our date? Yah! Oppa!”

“No no, I just-” he realises that you’ve just left the campus walking past him, not even sparing him a glance. He watches you as you walk farther away from him, your car blinking in the distance, and the tap-tap of your heels fading out amidst the sounds of the wind. The campus is remarkably quiet for this time of the day, or maybe he’s just too out of it all. 

“I’ll meet you at the cafe. We can go to your place later, right?”

“Yes yes, I’ve talked to my roommate already, but why not Oppa’s place this time?” the sickly sweet voice from the other end of the phone irritates him, but he knows she’s acting cute just for fun. 

“You know why-” 

“Oppa, Kkuma doesn’t care about the girls you bring over.” “She does! She’s a very sensitive princess.” “Cheol-ah, you can just say you don’t care enough about me, and I’ll get it. Don’t bring the poor baby into this.” Seungcheol sighs. This is why he likes Hyerin, she can be mature when she wants to.

But it seems like now is not the time.

“I’ll see you later then, Oppa! Maybe tonight will change your mind!” “Hmm!” Seungcheol hears the call get cut, and he finally drags a puff from his cigarette. You’ve disappeared out of sight, and Seungcheol’s mind is clear now.

[lostcauses-noregrets]

Why is the answer always "Levi said this Levi did this" whenever one asks about the signs of Eruri in canon? Levi's side is pretty clear, but every time I talk to an Eruri and I ask "but why do you think Erwin loved Levi" the answer is very long but it's mostly empty and just "I am sure he did" or "but Levi loved him so Eruri is canon". Sorry this isn't a "hehehe your ship is one sided it's not canon" type of question. It's more of a writing-wise question, since you are a writer yourself I thought you'd give the best answer to this.

I am wondering, is this because of lack of Erwin's pov in aot manga or anime? I know Erwin is important and plays an important role and story revolves around him in s3 p2 and all that but when you look at the bigger picture he's mostly just there. He's in the story but you don't see his pov. We don't get to see the inside of his head until the end. Is this why "does Erwin love Levi" question is a hot topic in aot fandom always? Or are there any side stories like smartpass aus that suggest Erwin had feelings for Levi? I'm sorry I don't know those very well I only know the manga and the anime.

Lastly, I am sure you answered this before but my question is very specific, do you actually believe it was mutual? After all it's fiction and you don't need their love to be mutual to ship them. People ship characters who barely interact. It's what fandom is and that's totally normal and valid. I guess I am wondering if you ever doubted, th ship or even yourself which I do a lot (in a "oh I love this so much and I read so much fics I made myself believe" way) Thanks I hope this doesn't sound rude or offensive, my English isn't very good so if I sound rude that must be it it's not my intention :)

Ooof there’s  a lot of different questions here but I think they boil down to the following: 

Are Erwin and Levi’s feelings for each other mutual? / Does Erwin reciprocate Levi’s feelings?

Why do people question Erwin’s relationship to Levi? 

Do I personally believe their relationship was mutual, and have ever “doubted the ship”?

I’ve answered the first question many, many times over the years. You can read all my various answers here.  In short I do think that Erwin reciprocated Levi’s feelings and I think the evidence is there in the manga, the official guidebooks, the Smartpass stories, and the side content for anyone who cares to see it. I’m not going to list all the side content here, but there’s a very old post by @erbeansandravioli that links to a lot of it: Eruri receipts.

As to why people question Erwin’s relationship to Levi, well that’s an interesting one.  Some people clearly just don’t get Erwin’s character (see the previous ask I just answered), they don’t understand his role in the plot or the significance of his relationship to Levi.  For example I’ve seen people arguing passionately that Levi’s vow had nothing to do with Erwin, which is just mind boggling to me. It’s certainly true that Erwin is a much harder character to read than Levi who very much wears his heart on his sleeve.  Erwin is more reserved, and holds his cards closer to his chest.  However the fact that Levi is the only one who he reveals his true self to is significant. Daisuke Ono put it beautifully when he said in an interview that the amplitude of Erwin’s feelings is so great that it can be hard to see.  

It could also be that some, perhaps younger, readers just don’t recognise their relationship for what it is. It’s certainly not a typical shounen romance, but it is a deeply believable adult relationship; one that is based on mutual trust, respect and understanding. This is from a previous ask I answered on the subject:

It frustrates me enormously when people deny their canon relationship, despite Yams being at paints to explain it repeatedly in the guidebooks. I want to shake them and ask what the hell they think a relationship looks like when you’re an exhausted 30 + year old war veteran who has spent their entire life fighting for survival.  It looks like this; finding someone who you can trust with your life. If you were to ask me what characterizes a successful adult relationship I would say it’s exactly this; mutual trust, respect and understanding, and when push comes to shove, the willingness to do everything in your power to help the person you hold most dear, even if that means letting them go. 

And as to whether I’ve ever doubted the ship, the answer to that would be no, never.  Sure we’ve never seen them swear undying love in canon (though some would argue with that and point to Erwin’s "Arigatō Levi".) I wrote this in response to an ask about Eruri canonicity: 

Do you mean that you don’t believe they’re canon because we never see them kiss? Because they never marry?  Because the main focus of the story isn’t romance?  All those things are true, but in my opinion, they’re also not the only things that make a relationship canon.  Particularly when that relationship is between two war-weary 30 year old men who have been fighting for survival almost their entire lives. The irony is that, in some ways, Erwin and Levi’s relationship is actually quite conventional. They really do behave a bit like an old married couple.  They have a long standing relationship that has matured over many years, they have their own weird sense of humour, they’re not afraid to challenge each other, but they care about one another deeply, and they also trust each other unconditionally.  That’s all the canon evidence I need tbh.

Having said that, you are absolutely right that you don’t need any canon evidence to ship a couple.  Hell, I’ve had great fun written Hanji and Petra as a side ship and I don’t think they ever even interacted in canon.  In Erwin and Levi’s case though there is more than enough evidence in canon to attest to the significance of their relationship. 

Hope this answers your questions.

[bahbahhh]

begin again

a lot of change happens in between Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom. let’s fill in the gaps. zelda pov | zelink | totk spoilers | multichapter | rated T zelinkweek2023 | @zelinkcommunity [ ao3 ]

Chapters: [2 ] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

The Calamity is gone. The remaining leaders of Hyrule gather for a Summit to determine the future of the kingdom, starting with how to repurpose all the Sheikah Technology. Zelda is among them, and while everyone still calls her Princess, she’s not sure she wants to lay claim to an old throne. What she really wants is to move on. She wants to continue her research, to prove her worth beyond her bloodline, and to spend as much time with Link as she can…which sounds an awful lot like what she wanted a hundred years ago…

[ A story set between BotW and TotK, containing many spoilers for TotK as it was born from my need to explain many of the changes we see. A tremendous thank you to @zeldaelmo who volunteered to beta read this before she knew what she was getting herself into. I am immensely thankful for your eagle eye and your patience. ]

chapter 1

for the prompt “yearning”

Zelda doesn’t have a bed. 

She thinks about this lying on the spare one in Purah’s study. She’s staying with Purah for the Hyrule Restoration Summit, which is what they are calling the first official gathering of Hyrule leaders since the fall of the Calamity, and the more she thinks about it, technically speaking, it's a cot.

It’s not unlike the one she uses when they are in Kakariko, albeit a few inches shorter, like everything else customized for a child in Purah’s lab. Zelda has to lay at an angle to fit and even so, her feet dangle over the edge when she straightens her legs. Symin offered her his bed, as Paya had in Kakariko, and like there, Zelda declined. 

When she traveled a century ago, families were forced to give up their entire homes to host her. Royal quarters were permanently built in Kakariko, Rito Village, Gerudo Town, and Zora’s Domain. Due to the hostile environment surrounding Goron City, the Gorons agreed to travel to Akkala Citadel whenever there was official business with the Royal family which, in addition to a military fortress for the Hyrulian armed forces, acted as a second residence for her family. Another bed.

But that was all before. Akkala Citadel is in ruins, all the Royal quarters have since been repurposed by their respective domains, and Zelda will never ask anything more of the people of Hyrule so long as she draws breath.

Still, selfishly, and in the safety of her own thoughts, she yearns for the comfort of a real bed. Nothing extravagant, no need for anyone in Hyrule to forfeit their comforts on her behalf. Just somewhere she can readily count on for rest when sleep decides to visit. 

That’s what Link says: a visit of sleep. 

They are alike in this way. Their internal clocks recalibrated in the prolonged absence of waking, such that their bodies don’t readily cue the need for sleep. In the beginning, it took her weeks just to register the sensation of fatigue again. She stayed awake for two full days after the final confrontation on Hyrule Field before collapsing abruptly during the climb up to Kakariko’s western entrance. Link had to carry her the rest of the way. She slept for ninety-two hours straight. 

When Zelda finally awoke, someone was smoothing her hair out of her face. Another sensory experience she needed to register again: touch. Not toxic oil on her skin, claws of shadow raking down her spine, or darkness pulling so tight it feels like it might become one with her. Actual human touch. 

She hoped it might be Link in a delayed return of her affections for a heartbeat, but when she opened her eyes, it was an old Sheikah woman at her bedside. Zelda’s expression must have soured or pulled with confusion, because the woman began to laugh. Laughter. Warm and inviting and familiar. The sound vibrated inside Zelda like a bell. She gasped, set her hands on either side of the women’s face and felt a sudden and painful ache that has accompanied every subsequent realization of her losses. 

She will never age like she was meant to. With the people of her time, with the people she loved.

And after a century in stasis, she is on the verge of being completely left behind.

“Now, it’s not that bad, is it?” Impa teased.  

Zelda didn’t answer. She wept.

It has gotten a little better in the months since she returned to her physical form. She’s started to suspect Link is “visited’ by sleep out of preference more than necessity. But really, he slept for a hundred years, so she can’t blame him for rejecting a more traditional sleep cycle. She, on the other hand, was frozen. Not sleeping, not waking, just there—like gravity itself. Holding everything and everyone in place, unnoticeable until she wasn’t, when the Calamity would slip free of her grasp, swirl about the castle, and remind Hyrule of the horrors that awaited them if she failed again. 

Zelda smudges a tear against the side of her face and turns onto her back. Regardless, she can’t help but feel like having a bed, a ceiling overhead she recognizes, and the freedom to get up and roam down to a kitchen for a slice of fruitcake when the night is still young, that she might be visited by rest more willingly when she wants it. Needs it.

Like tonight. 

“So, what you're really talking about is wanting a home,” Zelda tells herself, a habit formed in the decades of solitude. Sometimes, in periods of dormancy or resignation, the Calamity would growl back at her in a tone that was almost human. But for the most part, she started talking to herself in and out of days and throughout the years until her sense of time too was a thing Hylia claimed in penance for her failures. 

“That’s not accurate,” she chides herself and flips onto her stomach. Blaming the Goddess is a bad habit she is trying to change. When she finally unlocked her Powers, suspended in divinity, the closest to holy she’s ever been, the Goddess didn’t even answer her then. It was just the sound of her own voice, echoing back at her from inside the Calamity. 

A bed. Something simple and fixed, like the one Link has in his house right on the outskirts of the village. Zelda’s caught glimpses of it when they’ve stopped there to replenish supplies; nestled against the wall on the second floor, beneath the only window so natural light kisses him awake when he finally decides to rest. He has a small dresser for linens and travel spoils, and a bedside table that is home to a painted vase from Rito Village he often fills with fresh flowers. 

She wonders which flowers are watching over him right now. Has sleep visited him? Or is he rolling about his sheets, worrying about the Summit, trying to break old habits, or craving something warm from the cooking pot down the stairs?

If he is awake, it is likely the latter. He would be able to sleep on a night like this. The air is cool. Everyone at the Summit knows him personally; is indebted to him in some way, although he carries no ledger. He is known. Respected. Tomorrow is just another day. Sleep will visit.

Zelda’s role in all of this is yet to be defined. While news of Calamity Ganon’s defeat spread quickly, there was no whisper of the lost Princess’ return at first. Rumors focused on the disappearance of the shadow around Hyrule Castle and then later, turned into formal requests for Link’s presence in the aid of investigating the Divine Beasts sudden malfunctioning. No one asked about her.

And it was nice. 

For a brief moment, she fantasized about cutting her hair, burning her dress, and letting Zelda disappear with the embers into history. Maybe she would accompany Link as a traveling scholar under another name? Or join the Sheikah and train with the weapons she was forbidden to touch a hundred years ago?

Impa, however, had other plans. She suggested Zelda travel with Link to investigate Vah Ruta so the Zora could verify her identity. They found her old travel clothes, Link presented her with a descendant of her horse, Storm, and the dreams of obscurity ceased. The Zora instantly recognized her, adding credibility to the announcement of her return and soon, her identity grew heavy with an unspoken claim to a throne that needed rebuilding.

No one has officially said anything, but there is a generous amount of speculation surrounding tomorrow and the opportunity to reestablish a centralized and unifying governing body. If they asked it of her, she would have no choice but to accept, right? It is the duty tied to this life. This title.  

Maybe she could convince them of her usefulness as a scholar? She no longer has any restrictions on time spent researching. She could help the Sheikah redesign their technology. Perhaps to aid in the great restoration…if she could just get the Divine Beasts up and running again, they would prove so useful in the rebuilding! 

This part of her, shunned by her family and now forgotten with them, could be the key to proving her worth beyond a head to carry the crown. She will show them. She has to.  They don’t seem to know what else to do with her, otherwise. Rarely does anyone use her name, even after they realized who she is.

They all call her ‘Princess’.  

Except for Link. 

Zelda turns onto her side and inspects the empty sliver of cot beside her. She runs her hand across the weaving and thinks about how she used to be able to visit Link. When the Calamity was dormant and her Power was still new and untaxed, she would separate a part of herself from Hyrule Castle and ride the wind to the Great Plateau. She watched the seasons turn by Link’s side in the shrine until the Calamity would wake and pull her back into herself like a rubber band. This went on for decades. 

When he finally woke up and the shrine’s toll for restoring his life was realized, Zelda felt her strength begin to waver. She is not aware of a word that accurately describes the feeling of being forgotten by the person you tethered your heart to; to have it remain connected to that person and witness it drift behind them, becoming more of a dark cloud than guiding light.

Her love for him burned for a hundred years. Somehow, in the depths of a living, breathing, rageful hell, it grew. It grounded her within the swirl of eternal darkness, the unyielding burn of malice, the mourning of time. As his memories of their kingdom, their comrades, and of her, returned to him, his reckoning of it all remained indistinguishable. 

The last six months between them were uncomfortable. He never outwardly answered her question on the field. He extended his hand and led her away from the castle. He was gentle yet reserved, closer than the three paces he once stood as her appointed knight and still somehow further than when he sunk into the glowing waters of the shrine and she stepped into the center of the darkest night.  Did his love die with him on the field that day? Was it left in the spot where he bled out, where flowers now grow? Has one unknowingly ever made it back to his bedside table? Could he recognize it now? 

Did he want to? 

She glances over her shoulder quickly, half expecting him to be there like he always was all those years ago, appearing out of thin air, as a part of her as her own shadow. 

But there is no one else in the room. Her shadow is empty. Her window shut. 

Zelda turns her attention back to the empty spot beside her and begins to imagine the weight of his arms around her. The sound of his sleep. His breath on her face. The cot is small, like his bed, but in the way she imagines they might fit together, it would be enough for sleep to find her. Even on a night like this. 

But there is no one else in the room. 

Just her and a bed, that's not even a bed, that doesn’t belong to her. 

—

Sleep doesn’t visit her. 

Zelda eventually gives up and pours her energy into drafting up a proposal on how to repurpose the Sheikah Technology. The Divine Beasts will be a tremendous asset. Vah Ruta can create new water reservoirs. Vah Medoh can mass transport supplies and people across Hyrule. Vah Rudania and Vah Naboris will be essential for maneuvering the harsher terrains of each region. 

She is confident she and Robbie could reprogram the guardians and assign them different purposes. She will recommend they remove all of the mechanics for combat, save for a select few machines that will be assigned to aid in monster defense.

Their greatest challenge will be finding a new power source. When Zelda obliterated Calamity Ganon from the realm, her Light purified every non-living thing it held influence over; every pool of Malice evaporated instantly and every guardian -earthbound, skyward or decayed- from the North Akkala Beach to Daval’s Peak stopped working. Robbie has yet to find a working ancient core and hypothesizes Zelda “nuked the network”. Whatever that means. 

The Sheikah Towers and shrines remain functional, so once they isolate the remaining source of power, she is confident Robbie and Purah will be able to design and power up new cores. 

 If only she had access to the old blueprints in her study…

On her way down to the main floor, she scribbles a note about returning to the castle upon acceptance of the proposal. She folds the pages carefully and tucks them into the small leather satchel Link gave her. Purah assumes ownership of the Sheikah Slate whenever they come to Hateno, so Link presented her with a satchel enchanted by the koroks so she can carry multiple items outside of the Slate on her at all times. Link has an identical one. 

He jokingly calls it an ‘adventure pouch’.  

Purah, Symin and a few others are already buzzing about the lab. Purah has the Sheikah Slate in the Guidance Stone, a tear drop of crystal blue bouncing between the stone and the Slate every few seconds. Zelda always thought it was interesting that information takes the shape of a teardrop. Was it intentional by the Sheikah who created the technology all those years ago? Or is it just the natural form of data? Of memory? 

There is so much for them to learn.

“Good morning, Princess!” Purah says without looking up from her work. Zelda decided earlier this morning, just as the sun started peeking through her window, not to fight the title of Princess anymore. She would help them rebuild the kingdom, sit on a new throne if they asked it of her, but she would have a hand defining the responsibilities of the title. 

“Good morning,” Zelda answers. 

Purah rapidly flaps her hand in Zelda’s direction. Zelda moves into the spot beside Purah, who is balanced on her knees on a pillow in order to sit level with the table. There are sketches of the Sheikah Slate, looking very much like a six year old drew them, along with an unflattering portrait of Symin, and handwriting Zelda won’t even attempt to decipher. 

“I think I can duplicate the Slate,” Purah says, snapping her fingers.

Zelda grins. She imagines each region having their own Slate. The possibilities for research, for communication. How quickly Hyrule could share information…the problems they could solve! 

Link pushes open the door to the lab. Zelda imagines how his shoulders might relax the more Hyrule becomes connected. His burden would finally be eased...then maybe…

“Good morning!” She practically bursts. 

Link waves and crosses the room to the cooking pot. Symin starts explaining what he is cooking and Link casually dumps the entire contents into the fire. Symin sighs in relief and pulls out a notebook. Link produces the ingredients one by one from his pouch, displaying each carefully so Symin can copy the recipe. A dozen eggs, Hylian tomatoes, assorted mushrooms, a handful of greens, and a tiny bottle of Goron spice. Zelda’s mouth waters before he even starts cooking. 

She watches Link demonstrate how to slice the tomatoes before setting Symin to work, involving Symin in the salvaging of the meal and in doing so, lessening the blow of his failure. It is a change in Link’s behavior she has loved witnessing: he is eager to share his knowledge after awakening from the shrine; to spread it generously with everyone who asks for his help. In this way, he is teaching Hyrule how to need him less in the long run, a step forfeited a century ago by the pressure he felt and the structure of the role assigned to him. 

Hero, knight, swordsman; whatever title he is to carry moving forward, she will protect his freedom to define it as well. 

They eat quickly and head down the hill toward the village together. Hateno is the chosen location for the Summit because it has the largest settlement of Hylians, who, as a whole, have been without formal leadership for over a century. Central Hyrule was initially considered given the proximity for all participants, but the general consensus is six months of calm is not enough time for anyone to meet comfortably in the shadow of the castle. 

“I heard this is the first time King Dorephan has left his domain in two hundred years,” Purah whispers to Zelda as they turn the corner down the split in the road to Hateno Pasture. A farmer named Dantz offered up his land, which borders Lake Sumac, to host. The water provides an added measure of comfort for the Zora. Zelda spots King Dorephan sitting close to the shore with several elder Zora and Prince Sidon.

There are a handful of Hylians mingling with leading members of the Sheikah, Rito, Gorons, and Gerudo. 

Purah and Symin split off to join Impa, who is sitting in the shade of a nearby tree with Paya. Their movement pulls the attention of the crowd in Zelda’s direction. She watches recognition ripple across the group. The conversations soften and then die off completely at the mere sight of her. Just like old times. 

Zelda flexes her fingers. 

Suddenly, there is a hand in hers. She jumps, glancing to her side where only Link stands. He’s looking right at her, the same way everyone else is, but she doesn’t feel the weight of the crown on her shoulders in his gaze. He squeezes her hand and nods her forward.  

“Right. Okay, then,” Zelda whispers.

Link leads her around the crowd so she can make introductions before the Summit starts. She is already known to the Sheikah, who are represented by Impa, Robbie, Purah, Symin, Paya, and Cado, and the Zora. Prince Sidon embraces her and compliments Link relentlessly. 

It is Zelda’s first time meeting the Goron Boss, Bludo, who introduces Zelda to a young Goron named Yubono and emphasizes he is a descendant of Daruk, as well as the Rito Chief, Kaneli. He is joined by a Rito warrier named Teba, and his son, Tulin, who begs Link to go shooting with him later that day. Link offers the fledgling a thumbs up and then gestures like, you want to go now, quick? 

Teba scolds them both. 

Her favorite introduction is the last one. Chief Makeela Riju, who insists Zelda calls her Riju, informs Zelda the Gerudo sun has missed her and personally invites her to come meet her pet sand seal. 

There certainly is a lot of personality, but Zelda feels certain the proposal will appease them all equally. The fact Link’s hand has remained in hers the entire time only boosts her confidence. Should she request the floor immediately or wait to see if there are region-specific needs she can weave into her proposal? She wants to emphasize the importance of each region’s involvement. 

“I think it’s time,” Impa makes her way out of the shade with the other Sheikah and takes the spot closest to Zelda. “that we begin again, don’t you all agree?”

“Well said. The Zora recognize the start of the Hyrule Restoration Summit,” King Dorphean says. 

“As do the Rito.” 

“And the Gerudo.”

“The Shei-kah!” Robbie throws his hand in the air and postures. 

“Gorons,” Bludo grunts.

“The Hylians have elected four representatives: I, Reede of Hateno Village, Elder Rozel of Lurelin Village, Hudson of Tarrey Town, and Traysi for the Stable Association. We recognize the start of the Hyrule Restoration Summit.”

“I officially call this meeting to order.” Impa claps her hands together and sits. She thanks everyone for traveling and for the village of Hateno for their hospitality. She summarizes the objective of the meeting as a gathering of the people of Hyrule in preliminary discussions about plans for a massive restoration following the purge of Calamity Ganon. She explains the forum will be open, but organized, in order for accurate minute keeping. Everyone motions in favor of detailed records. There are too many nameless ruins, too many stories and lessons lost to time scattered across Hyrule.

“Since there is no old business to attend to, I suppose it might be best to open the floor up to hear any initial recommendations for the restoration?”

Link raises his hand. 

He so rarely speaks out loud that the anticipation of it commands the attention of the entire Summit immediately. It might be her imagination, but Zelda swears the wind stops, too.  

“Let the record show the Hylian Champion and Hero of the Wild, Link, has the floor,”  Impa dictates and gestures for Link to continue. Zelda fishes her proposal out from her adventure pouch and folds it in her lap. Whatever he says, she’s assuming he will have some brilliant suggestions on how the former trade routes can be optimized or offer insight into the state of Central Hyrule for an exhibition, it will provide the perfect opportunity for her to follow. 

Link turns and smiles at her as he rises. It’s small. Relaxed. The kind of smile that’s only meant for the space between two people. Which means it is meant for her. 

She smiles back. 

With her plans for the Sheikah Technology, which will no doubt be strengthened by Link’s expertise, they can face this new Hyrule together. Self-chosen, this time, not forced by fate and the responsibilities of an old kingdom. 

Her heart flutters so rapidly at the thought, it takes her brain a moment to register what he actually says:

“I propose the first step in the restoration of Hyrule should be the destruction of all Sheikah Technology.”

[importantchaosgiver]

The Griffin And The Dragon:

For Now, Goodbye

Summary: (Y/N) knows it's time to go home. But what she didn't expect was a goodbye from an unlikely person...

Warnings: None

Masterlist

******

No One's POV

The sun hadn't began peeking over the horizon when (Y/N) was nudged awake by Alcatrax. She let out a groggy groan as she felt the hard beak nudging her hand before his tail whacked her in the face making her sit up with a start. Alcatrax's piercing yellow eyes glittered with amusement at his rider's unimpressed look. "Very mature. I am awake now," she huffed underneath her breath, pulling the covers off and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. Her bare feet touched the cold stone floor, making her flinch a little before standing up entirely. Her arms stretched above her head as she yawned. Time to get ready to head home.

(Y/N) brushed through her unruly hair (which was almost always frizzy whenever she woke up) before getting changed into a new dress and breeches since she would be on Alcatrax for the better half of five to seven hours on the long flight. Once she was deemed presentable, her and Alcatrax headed outside. Where no one else was. Her parents were most likely still asleep of getting ready. (Y/N) stifled a yawn behind her hand as Alcatrax went to go drink from the fountain. Then... "You are up considerably early, my lady,". (Y/N) jumped, quickly turning around to see...

"Your grace? You... uh, yes. It takes a while to get to and from Concordia," she said, regaining her composure from the sudden fright. Viserys stood there with a soft look, wearing a white shirt, black breeches and boots, having just came from his bed chambers. Most likely at least. "I see," he said. It was rather quiet between them for a moment. "I... wanted to thank you for coming to the funeral. Aemma would have been happy," Viserys said softly. (Y/N) nodded gently. "She was a good friend and woman. I wish there was more I could do and say. But, she was truly a rare soul," she said with a kind smile. Viserys nodded in agreement. That she was. "Tell me, my lady. How come you can ride such a magnificent beast?" he asked, glancing at Alcatrax who was cleaning his feathers, his lion like tail swishing from side to side. "Some believed we have ancient magic to communicate with creatures. From the mightiest beasts to the tiniest mouse. Our history is as much as a mystery to anyone," she said with a light chuckle. "I see. And... was Daemon interested in your history? I saw you talking to him," Viserys explained.

Oh, that. (Y/N) let out a small and nervous chuckle. "No, he was telling me how much I intrigued him. Considering how far I came with my parents to pay our respects," she explained nervously, putting her gloves on. The king nodded in understanding. Although, he took felt uneasy. Daemon was never one to be spontaneous. He had a reason for everything. Especially if it included a foreign princess. And, if Viserys was honest, he almost didn't blame Daemon. The princess was rather beautiful. But, he didn't dwell on that fact too much.

"Well, I wish you safe travels, my lady. And you are always welcome here should you desire to come and visit," he said with a smile. "Thank you, your grace," (Y/N) said and returned his smile with a curtsy. He headed back inside as Maximus and Galene came out with their griffins. "What was the king discussing with you?" Galene asked her daughter with a curious expression. "Nothing much, mother. He just expressed how glad he was we came," she explained, mounting Alcatrax. She didn't mention when Viserys said she was welcome any time. She didn't believe it was a big deal.

But it was. As the three griffins set off, more than one pair of eyes watched. Daemon watched from the streets. He thought of Princess (Y/N). How she was perfect in every way. Her features, her posture and poise. Not to forget that level of sass she gave him. Oh, he was going to have fun with this one. Another set of eyes belonged to Otto Hightower who had been observing the foreign royalty ever since their arrival. He didn't like how mystical and magical Concordia was and its inhabitants were just as bad in his options. In addition, (Y/N) seemed like a threat to his plans. She was kind, too kind. She was pretty, young and smart with wit to match and wisdom. She had the capacity for being the perfect suitor. He had to play his cards right. The last pair of eyes was Viserys himself. He watched the griffins soar through the dark blue sky as the morning began, yet no sunlight was visible yet. To meet these royals was like a breath of fresh air. No ambition, no pressure. They were there out of the kindness of their hearts no matter how many viewed that as a weakness. No, kindness wasn't a weakness in their culture. It was a strength.

Could something flourish from here? Or would the outcome be as clouded as ever? Only time can tell...

******

Part 3! Well, technically chapter 2. But, whatever. Now, real question: Which one do you think will win? Daemon or Viserys? I know it may stray from the original plot, but I'm going to try and make it relate to it or follow some of the original plot. But, tensions are rising...

[beanghostprincess]

Not only did OPLA took the fun out of Nami (and Zoro), but hate how they also made Nami steal from Kaya in the LA even though Nami only steals from pirates in the manga

I mean... I don't really agree? I can see your point, though. The manga focuses way more on her hatred for pirates and emphasizes the fact that she steals from them respectively more. But I don't think stealing from the rich is something out of character for her. In fact, I think it's pretty much in character and also gives us a great scene about Luffy's views on rich people and money.

Nami won't stop complaining about how much stuff Kaya has and that she doesn't need all these luxuries. That it's unfair for the people who don't even have the chance to eat properly. She complains from a place of experience and hatred towards monetary difference and privilege. Nami grew up poor and her whole story is about finding comfort in money because that's what could've saved her mom and her village. She had to fight for it. Her mom wouldn't stop saying that it didn't matter that they weren't rich because they had each other, but Nami wanted more. Nami wanted stability and knowledge she could only achieve from the books she stole and,, She wanted to be able to live without sacrificing these things because it's just unfair people have to live this way while others swim in money. Arlong took everything from her and the ONLY thing that could've saved them was money. So of course she finds comfort in money. And of course she doesn't like rich people. Nami stealing from the rich and complaining about how they didn't have to fight for these things is extremely in character, in my opinion. It was a great addition to her character and a good way to build up her story.

Then, Luffy. I like the scene in which Nami's trying on outfits and saying rich people don't need all these things, and Luffy responds in a more emotional, concerned way for Kaya. He's like "but there's so much stuff in here and it's so empty at the same time... I'm sure she feels lonely without somebody to share this with" and Nami instantly goes to a more extreme, stubborn POV of "nah, rich people don't have feelings". And I honestly think it explains their characters so well. Luffy is an empathetic boy who grew up in the wild and he had to fight to live. Not even for money because he didn't care about that. He fought to live. He doesn't consider money something good or bad. He considers it just another type of living. And honestly? For him, it's not even good because his own brother was rich. Sabo grew up in a rich family and the kid wasn't happy at all and Luffy knew this perfectly. In fact, Sabo was only happy with Ace and Luffy and Luffy knows this. And I don't know if OPLA wanted to do something like this, and maybe it's a reach, but I honestly think Luffy was thinking about Sabo in that scene. For him, the more you have the less you have to lose because none of those materialistic things are worth it. For Nami, the less you have the more you have to lose. Simple as that.

I like their different views on this topic, honestly. Especially since Nami ends up befriending Kaya and understanding Luffy's POV. That money doesn't give you happiness and Kaya misses her parents the same as Nami. Death doesn't discriminate and money won't save you from tragedies like those. Nami finds comfort in money but it's not even something real. It's a trauma response from losing her mom but she knows it won't save them at the end of the day. At least it'll help them be comfortable, of course, she won't ever let the crew be poor. And also she likes shiny things and expensive stuff but like, obvious trauma response. She's fond of luxuries because she couldn't have them when she was a kid and now she has the chance to enjoy them and it's like telling her mom she finally made it and she's living comfortably thanks to her sacrifice, even if it's unfair she had to do it in the first place. That money isn't all but it's quite obviously it is something useful. Unlike Luffy, who gives 0 fucks about it and honestly, I don't think he even has a good opinion on that. At the end of the day, they both agree on the fact that everyone should live equally and nobody should have this much money to waste when others are dying of hunger (Wano my beloved).

TL,DR: I think it's in character for Nami and it gives us a great view of her opinion on money and also Luffy's past and empathetic personality.

[morimakesfanart]

Sindria's Prophet #38

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [Intermission] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31] [32] [33] [34] [35] [36] [37]

[AO3] [wattpad]

*CW -cults+ mentioned; child abuse mentioned; suicide attempts implied

~POV Mori~

While I was sick, the magicians developing alchemy magic were able to make a wider range of materials by doing something closer to assisted chemistry; they started transmuting rubber from the milky saps of some plants -like the rubber gloves from my medical scrolls. It was inspiring! With the power of success and dopamine I finalized my printing press schematics in only 2 days.

These accomplishments were later brought up at the morning Assembly, not by the people making them, but by Ja'far and the accountants of the White Capricorn Tower. "Even before becoming the official Prophet of Sindria, Mori has help our magicians, engineers and doctors make leaps and bounds of progress in their fields. Many countries of the Alliance have agreed to help fund these projects and have already preordered scrolls of the information. *However,*" he held up a document, "due to all of the extra people and resources needed we are already over budget for the year! And so we request that the Prophet not invent anything new for the rest of this quarter and the next. This way we will have time to start finalizing what we already have for production and can start receiving a return on these investments."

Yamuraiha jumped to my defense. "The work Mori has been doing in the Black Libra Tower has been revolutionary! How can you say you don't have a budget for life changing-"

"I am not denying their contributions! We simply can't afford this rate of advancements!"

I raised a hand to get their attention. "If there's no budget, then there's no budget. However, I can't just sit around and do nothing for 5 months."

There was a bit of a back and forth, and eventually it was agreed that I would continue helping in the Black Libra Tower, but any future schematics would be placed on hold and judged for priority by the researchers and accountants. And so I went to working as an encyclopedia in the mornings, and would work on Fate scrolls after lunch.

---

The Great Bell rang, and thanks to the power of hyperfixation, none of us could tell what time it was. Not long after, I noticed a familiar shift in the waves that gave me the answer. Knowing who was coming gave me another boost to get a little more done.

Menachem greeted him when he arrived. "Ah- good morning, your Majesty."

Sinbad's laugh made my heart race. "Yes. Good morning." For the past week, King Sinbad had came in person every other day for updates even though it would be covered in the next morning's Assembly. The violet haired man walked over to where I was sitting, while showing me the world's most charming smile. "Mori. How are you doing?"

'Excited. Happy. Nervous. Embarrassed. Confused. Self-conscious.' He hadn't said anything directly flirty since I was sick. And yet, it was noticeably harder to refute the Magicians' claims. Sinbad had said at the Announcement that he didn't want to play at flirting with me, and wanted to become someone I could trust. He certainly didn't trigger my lactose intolerance anymore. 'He said he wanted to move me to the Purple Leo Tower.'

I fought back the urge to hide. "I'm fine." The room definitely felt hotter than it did a minute ago. I re-explained what I had gone over with the magicians. Sinbad nodded along and asked questions at all the right times. He also remembered the things I had said previous days. He made me feel validated and respected every time he stopped by. It was becoming increasingly bad for my heart.

There was a suspicious amount of people meandering nearby. Most were watching us out of the corners of their eyes. At least the magicians didn't comment as much as the first time they saw the pink Rukh around us. Although, it was getting easier to judge when they were looking at the Rukh even without those comments.

The King smiled, and I cursed his ability to charm me without flirting. He used a hand to point at the scroll from over my shoulder. He was much closer than I realized; I would only need to lean over a little to make contact. Just like how he had stopped overtly flirting, he hadn't touched me either. He knew I needed space, and I was grateful for that, but it also illustrated for me just how used to his skinship I had become.

I couldn't do this anymore. It hurt too much. I was projecting my past onto someone who might actually reciprocate my feelings. What I was feeling might not have anything to do with the present or him as a person. I could just be recognizing my past in him and repeating those patterns while hoping for a different ending. But the patterns include the endings, and if I wasn't self-aware enough I'd force those endings out of fear of being caught unaware. Even if Sinbad actually liked me now, the attention he showed me would dry up eventually, right? I require closed relationships so eventually he'll come to resent me for limiting his options. We aren't compatible. The waves rose slightly and I couldn't ignore the thought that this was fanfiction, so anything was possible.

"Excuse me, Mx. Prophet?" A voice called for me from the entrance to the library.

'OH THANK GOD' I was saved! "Yes??" I looked in the direction of the voice and called back. "Do you need something?" My face was finally starting to cool down. At least now I could stop thinking about how easy it would be to touch Sinbad. 'Remember who he is in 5 years.'

The worker appeared from around a line of bookshelves. He froze at the site of the man next to me for a moment before giving the message. "There's a- There's a blacksmith looking for you."

'A blacksmith?' "THE SCISSORS!" I was out of my seat in a flash. My brain shifted gears quickly after passing through the doorway into the hall.

The blacksmith that made the scissors during my first week in Sindria understood how important of a development this was and came to talk to the designer, me, shortly after seeing who I was at the Announcement. If he was here to see me again, he must have finished some prototypes for different types of scissors! The thing that made the evolution from shears to scissors so important was the addition of the hinge to the tool. There was no time to worry about Sinbad right now! There was history happening!

---

~POV Sinbad~

Sinbad had figured out that Mori wasn't the type to leave in the middle of work, even when she was putty in his hands. So, what was so important that she was willing to leave while in the middle of talking with her King about said work? They wouldn't have been interrupted if Mori had her own office. Sinbad crossed his arms as he watched them leave. At least she looked excited for whatever this was about.

Menachem came back over, as if he hadn't just been enjoying the show from behind a potted plant. "You know, your Majesty, I didn't think it was the case at first, but now I'd be willing to bet money that the Lady Prophet has blue Rukh." He stroked his beard as he talked. "You're going to have to be more direct if you want her attention." The old man laughed.

Sinbad sighed a laugh back and shook his head, but didn't answer.

There was a superstition that you could tell a lot about a person's personality from what type of Rukh they had. People with Type 2-Blue Rukh were said to get lost in their personal interests, and struggle to recognize romantic advances. That first part definitely sounded like his Beautiful Prophet, but Sinbad wasn't sure about the second. Mori was ignoring his signals on purpose. It would take a while to convince them he was worth the risk.

((In one of the Magi extras Yunan describes these Rukh based personality types with canon characters as examples. It's not stated as common knowledge. I wanted to add it because it reminded me of the way people talk about astrology signs sometimes :3 Btw, according to the manga's personality quiz, I normally get Rukh type 7 -the same a Sin. Sometimes I get Type-2, 8, or. 4))

When Sinbad turned the corner, Mori was already out of sight. Not a problem; the waves would lead him. The King found them on the first floor talking with a burly old man that was a known blacksmith.

Mori had two fingers in rings with blades attached. "This pair is really close to the ones I first commissioned. Thanks again for those. I've been able to cut my bangs without worrying about accidently shaving my eyebrows with a knife."

Sinbad walked up to them. "How would someone even do that?"

Mori turned to him with a knowing smile. Her cheeks turned a little pink when they made eye contact. "I didn't think it was possible until I saw it happen in one of my visions. He had to go without sleep for several days, and often cuts the left side of his bangs too short." Sinbad unconsciously brushed his bangs at the mention of a habit he knew he had. "He was lucky that he knew a magician that was able to regrow it." She wasn't talking about him, right?

"Hello, your Majesty," the blacksmith greeted King Sinbad before explaining: he had originally wanted to make a deal with the designer to make and sell scissors, but after finding out that person was the Prophet he wasn't sure if that was acceptable -the information from the Prophet's visions were the property of the King. The two had been working on a pitch together which Mori immediately got into since Sinbad was clearly available.

The King examined one of the pairs of scissors during the explanation. He could see how this allowed a higher level of finesse then shears or a knife for certain tasks. This would be a profitable and widespread product even if Mori's visions weren't right. Still, those eyes full of expectations just made him want to tease her. "You know Mori, I remember you agreeing to withhold on inventing things for the time being."

"Ah- Well..." Her surprise was cute. "I actually reinvented scissors before I made that agreement!"

He smiled down at her. "I'm not sure if that will be enough to convince Ja'far and the others."

Mori froze as she calculated her next strategy. The waves did not give Sinbad enough warning before she made her way over to him and placed her hands on his forearm. "You'll help me then," her fingers made his skin tingle, "right? My King?" Sinbad couldn't look away from the eyes glittering up at him.

How long had he been holding back only for Mori to touch him first? He'd relent even if she hadn't invented them beforehand; the production wasn't coming from the Palace budget anyway. "Of course." Sinbad smiled down at his Beautiful Prophet. He sheathed the scissors he was holding and turned to the blacksmith. "I brought Mori to Sindria so they could help all of my citizens thrive."

The conversation wrapped up quickly after that. And through the whole thing, the King couldn't stop thinking about the hands holding onto him so affectionately. Without looking, Sinbad put his free hand over one of Mori's to keep it on his arm a little longer. But it didn't stop her from pulling away after the blacksmith left.

The person pulling at his heart started to head back towards the stairs to return to the library. He wasn't ready to part ways yet, but there was also no reason he could think of to follow them back. "Mori. Would you tell me more over lunch?" He had been trying to keep their time together to a minimum for Mori's benefit, but if they were reaching out to him then it should be fine to take the next step, right?

The waves moved between them, and Mori looked back his way. "Oh. Um..."

"These inventions from your visions are so interesting. And we could discuss some potential future inventions."

Their smile was nervous but not forced. "Yeah. Okay."

Sinbad offered his arm to them like he did in the past when they walked together, but Mori declined even though she had just been clinging onto him so sweetly. They walked side by side, but the distance between them felt larger than before. She made his heart race and then dropped it when she got her way. It made him think of their first dinner together. She claimed she was seducing him just like he seduced others to get his way. He really had no idea how it felt to be on the receiving end until now.

---

~POV Mori~

Multiple scrolls laid out on the table in my room drying. I had reached the slave arc in copying down Fate. After drawing the first pic of Sinbad fighting little Masrur in the Coliseum, I couldn't bring myself to draw again until I reached Ja'far punching Sinbad when he was freed. I laid on the floor between the pools of light from the windows to cool down my ruminating.

Seeing Sinbad go through it and directly acknowledge how horrible it is and eventually go numb... There was an eerie beauty in it -like a memento mori. 'I'm disgusting.'

((CW until marked))

The Slave Arc is my favorite arc in the Adventures manga -not because of what happens, but because of how it affected me. When my mom was hospitalized, and then died, she could no longer stop me from seeking therapy. When I explained my home life and childhood to my personal therapist, I was told that it sounded like the stories of children raised in cults and manipulated to become slaves for the leaders. Even though it was a comparison I made when I was young, I thought it had to be inflated hyperbole until I read how Maader indoctrinated Sinbad and the slave children. I was never put in a collar, but I related way too much. It got me to look up actual cults and victim stories. The abuse I grew up in was the same level of high control.

My mom almost died having my sibling and it changed her. By the time I turned 10 I couldn't deny there was something wrong with how my parents treated us. The one thing saving us from complete brain washing was that they couldn't afford to home school us. I tried to ask outside adults for help, but my mom was too well known in the community and I didn't emote properly. So when I read the scene where Sinbad convinces the children to rebel, I cried. I didn't care that he was manipulating them from his perspective; he validated the pain they were hiding, and gave them agency long before I got it. Yes, many of the slave children died in the rebellion, but many also lived to finally be free. When the cruel refuse to stop nothing can change until someone dies. Many have risked their lives for that reason.

Just like them, I knew nothing would change in my life unless someone died. The conversation Sinbad has with himself after he remembers his life's purpose was very similar to the one I had with myself from 12-14 years old -especially after how my parents normalized suicide. I realized it wasn't worth the risk to fight back , but also I chose to stay living anyway at the last second so I could continue to protect Lyly from our parents; and when they were a little older, Lyly chose to live to support me too. 'You can't protect anyone if you're dead.' No one was coming to save us so we had to learn to survive and protect ourselves. ((Yes, the thing Mori said to Alibaba in ch6 was this mantra I made for myself))

Our mother was already working herself to an early grave when I was child. She was rapidly aging from stress. I knew we had a strong chance of outliving her as long as we were able to hold on. Still, I wish she would have changed before she was on her deathbed. Her last words were an apology to Lyly. Things greatly improved after our mom died in 2016. Knowing how things were going for the other me, gave me peace of mind. Both versions were healing. I didn't feel as guilty for wanting to stay in this world anymore.

((End of CW))

I needed breaks because, just like being reminded of my own past, Sinbad wasn't just a character to me anymore. It felt wrong to draw any scene where he was shackled. Even if I never showed him this scroll, I didn't want to immortalize it. There were a few panels I had always wanted to redraw because they helped me process my own experience, but now that I was in this world I couldn't do it. If I ever drew them for the catharsis, I'd have to burn them afterwards. Each time I reached the plot points for one of those panels I had to step away and go through the same cycle of thoughts before I returned to the table and continued writing without drawing again.

"Ugh~" Who would have guessed that writing would help me process and get the ruminating out of my system? Me, actually, because this is always how I process things. I had separate scrolls for my ruminations so they wouldn't get in the way of the Fate scrolls, and because I kept writing in a circle. At least each time the rants got shorter. I'd already written this or that, and continuing to write the same thing gets frustrating to the point that I am forced to move forward. Like all types of mourning, it will always be there, but it can't hold me down forever unless I let it.

I couldn't stop the waves of disgust I had for myself. When I had originally read this arc, it carved Sinbad into my heart. It made me think, 'This person would understand me.' But I wasn't projecting my experience onto a character anymore; I was projecting it onto a real person who went through far worse than I ever did. I pressed my palms into my eyes. Ruminating was far easier than addressing this. I had to strip away all of my projections so I could see him clearly. And not just the Sinbad I read about, but the one who talked to me regularly and called me '(his) Beautiful Prophet.' Sinbad said he wanted to find a new path, but what would it even look like? What would it take for me to recognize it?

((I forgot to draw the curtains again...I really don't want to fix it though, so please pretend there are curtains framing the window.))

The sound of fluttering drew my attention. I had left my windows open on purpose in case Sinbird decided to stop by, but I also didn't think I would cycle this hard. I removed my hands from my eyes and looked up to see the possessed bird in one of the windows watching me.

"Hi, Sin. I'm okay. Just doing a big think, and that's easier from the floor."

The bird flew from the window to perch on one of the chairs at the table.

"I've been working on Fate scrolls. I want to get a few more done before I pass them off to you. I know this room probably isn't the most secure-"

'The vent scroll!' I sat up with a jolt and stumbled my way to the table after getting up too quickly. Sinbird flapped his wings in surprise when I yanked the vent scroll off the table. "This one is personal." I started rolling it up. "I don't mind talking about my past or feelings if you ask, but I'd rather you didn't read my unfiltered thoughts."

The bird watched me. I wished I knew what he was thinking.

I walked across the room, and put the tied scroll within the growing pile filling one of my bedside dressers. "It would be nice if I had somewhere to store these. This room isn't exactly designed for me to be using it as an office."

Wings flapped behind me and the bird landed on my shoulder as I turned to see what he was up to. He gave a small trill and I had the feeling he was proud of himself for something.

"We're both lucky that bird doesn't have talons, you know?" I was definitely going to need perches for him, and to start wearing a shoulder cloth that I wouldn't have to worry about getting pulls. As the bird watched me innocently another thought struck me, 'I probably shouldn't ask for a cat if I'm going to be visited by a bird frequently.'

((Hey, so you know how I said I was all better when I posted the last chapter? Apparently I was in the incubation period of COVID. It's out of my system now, but brain fog from long covid is kicking my ass. I had a bad fall last month because of it and got scraped up a bunch (including a little road rash). It's been 3 weeks and there's just the faintest remains of a scab left :D Just in time for my birthday (today) too! Here's hoping that my bad luck era is over!

Also, I am in a Magi server on discord. https://discord.gg/R5yzce4e I'm there all the time (and an admin). We talk about Magi, OCs, and fanfiction a lot))

[aurora-313]

For the fic writer asks meme! :)

a character whose POV you’re currently exploring

a trope you’re really into right now

if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

2. A character whose PoV you're currently exploring:

Right at this very moment, that would be Rukia. I'm working on the next chapter of OMTSYA and she's subtly attempting to investigate if Kaien is in fact his own reincarnation, functioning as my vehicle to explain how his situation works and the taboo behind it. Of course, that means she's reckoning with the fact he hollowfied as a human in the previous chapter (bringing back uncomfortable Meta!Kaien memories), Ichigo's blasé reaction to it and generally WTF is up with these two.

Naturally Kisuke knows precisely the answers she's looking for. But he's also weaving his own elaborate cover story for why the boys are as powerful as they are. Can't exactly say "they're the shinigami-hollow-quincy hybrids I've known since birth, whom I'd hoped would slurp up all your power so I can transform them into weapons against Captain Aizen", can he?

Nor can Urahara confirm that he knows Kaien is his own reincarnation, or his studious efforts attempting to complete that reincarnation process to A) save his life, and B) bring another pawn back onto the board either.

12. A trope you're really into right now:

I think For Want of a Nail, Peggy Sue and Reincarnation are a given. But if I had to pick; Merger of Souls is a pretty big one I've always liked for some bizarre reason. Two - no three of my current major projects have involved this trope in some way. Either as resolution to a problem or a source of conflict.

18: If you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic:

This is a Black and Blue deleted scene. For context: after Ichigo's surprise Quincy reveal during the Visored training, Kaien seeks aid and answers from Ryuken, who he figures out is a Quincy by extrapolation.

"My respect for privacy goes out the window when that privacy endangers the lives of my family. I'll spare you the detailed diatribe but I've been training Ichigo Kurosaki recently. In the midst of our training, he manifested Blut Vene and a reishi construct I'd only ever seen in my clan's history books. Then promptly went berserk trying to kill us all." Shiba leans forward, hands clasped loosely in front of him. Ryuken observes Isshin’s nephew critically. "You're a Quincy and a human, I'm a Shinigami and a Hollow. We're natural enemies and you owe me nothing. That said, I would sincerely appreciate anything you'd be willing to share in spite of that." Ryuken considers him. Then after a long stretch of silence, lowers his pen and folds his hands. "What would you like to know?"

Thanks for the ask~! :D

[kindoffruity]

Smitten - Chapter Three - Aonung's POV

Mild Warning: Non canon compliant :P

Smitten - Chapter Three - Adore - Aonung's POV

The ride back on Neteyam’s Ikran had been brutal, the pain settled in on his body, there wasn’t a part of him that hadn’t been aching. But Aonung learned fast that the more he reacted to the pain the more Neteyam seemed to be worried.

So Aonung sucked most of it up until they arrived back. 

Unfortunately, their parents had been gathered in a line to meet them, Ronal and Tonowari seemed to be a mixture of angry and concerned for their son. “What is this! Why do you look like this? Was this you, demon?” Ronal seemed to accuse Neteyam as she practically yanked her son towards her inspecting him. 

“No ma’am..” Neteyam immediately looked down, not wanting to upset Ronal more. He dismissed his Ikran, looking like he was struggling to find the words to describe what had happened. 

“Neteyam saved me, please do not disrespect him.” Aonung pulled away from his mother, he looked more insulted than Neteyam had been. “I am fine, I would probably be dead by now if he had not shown up, he deserves respect for that.” Aonung corrected his mother and it was a feat that left many stunned. 

“What happened?” Jake asked Neteyam after inspecting his son and not seeing a scratch, “The altercation earlier.. I followed those boys from the Ta’unui clan, they mentioned they would get their brothers and teach Aonung a lesson for embarrassing them. I tried to go back to warn Aonung but I couldn’t find him. So I got on Etera to search.” Neteyam explained to his parents.

Aonung watched from the corner of his eyes, he hoped that Jake and Neytiri would not find some way to blame Neteyam. 

“Why didn’t you tell anyone else before you left? You could have been hurt. I’d expect this recklessness from Lo’ak but not you.” Jake huffed and looked disappointed in Neteyam. Neteyam nodded his head and looked down at the sand before looking back up at his father. “I am sorry sir, it won't happen again.” Neteyam apologized, Aonung wanted to scream. How could they blame Neteyam?

“But I do not regret it.” 

Neteyam’s words stunned everyone at this point, even Aonung was taken aback by his words. Despite this, there was a small smile tugging on his bruised lips. It wasn’t like Neteyam had disrespected his parents, but Aonung respected that Neteyam finally said something.

“Excuse me?” Neytiri asked, completely full of disbelief that her oldest son had spoken out of line. Aonung could see the twist of emotions on her face, his mother had mirrored the same emotions earlier. There was anger, hurt, and confusion all brewed into one look. 

“I reacted completely appropriately for the situation, had I taken any longer or detoured myself, who knows what could have happened.” 

Aonung couldn’t even hold back the smirk, Neteyam had finally spoken, a small chuckle escaped his lips and Tonowari gripped the back of his head and pushed in down to bow towards the Sully’s. “Your son speaks the truth, I apologize for any inconvenience my son may have caused, and I thank you for protecting my son.” Tonowari’s words were enough to put an end to the bickering. 

“Yes, thank you, Neteyam.” Aonung looked up, a smile adorning his lips as he took in Neteyam’s appearance. His posture was tense, like he was trying to seem strong but Aonung knew he was probably shaking inside from being anxious. Aonung did catch his eyes for a moment, the second they locked they seemed to share a silent moment.

 They were thanking each other for different reasons. 

Aonung was thanking him for saving him and finally speaking up for himself. 

- - - - 

The next few days were particularly difficult for Aonung, the injuries he had received and the entire talking back situation had his parents keeping him on a short leash, he wasn’t able to sneak out in the evenings and see his Forrest boy.

Aonung was struggling with just looking at Neteyam during dinner, his mother kept him attached to her so there wasn’t much he could do besides exchange longing looks with one-another as they ate. 

It wasn’t much but at least seeing Neteyam was enough to make the day bearable until he had been all healed up. 

The Ta’unui clan brought forth a series of topics with Aonung’s parents that he truthfully wished to avoid: Mates, Iknimaya and Olo’eyktan.

“Tane, while he may not have handled it correctly, he had the right idea. You will be Olo’eyktan one day, you must get serious about your Iknimaya to become an adult within the clan. You need to search for a strong mate who will continue our way of life.” His father, Tonowari, spoke to him at dinner. 

Did this conversation need to be public? Why speak of this at dinner when the Sully’s were at the other side of the room. Aonung tried to look at Neteyam for.. Guidance? No, that wasn’t it. Maybe confirmation? Could he be bold enough to claim Neteyam as his own at their communal dinner? 

But Neteyam didn’t look up at him, he hung his head low as if trying to hide himself. 

“I will focus on my Iknimaya, but I will allow my mate to choose me.” Aonung knew who he had in mind as a mate, but claiming Neteyam now without properly courting him would make him just as bad as the men who had sought after his sister's hand. 

The dinner progressed, it seemed like it was dragging, and then Neteyam excused himself from dinner. 

Aonung took that as his opportunity to escape as well, he didn’t know where Neteyam was heading but he could only imagine he would find him at the end of the beach where he went to clear his mind. 

“I knew you’d be here..” Aonung called out as he moved to sit next to Neteyam, his tail almost instinctively wrapping around Neteyam, his finned hand resting atop the others. “I have missed you, my mother worries too much when I am injured and puts me on bed rest.” Aonung felt a need to explain why he hadn’t been around, he grabbed the other's slender hand and pressed a gentle kiss to it. 

Much to his surprise, Neteyam slowly pulled away his hand. 

“Nete..?” Aonung looked confused, had he done something wrong? Was Neteyam upset with him? His mind ran through all the scenes, he couldn’t recall what he had done wrong. 

“You will be Olo’eyktan one day.” Neteyam started to speak, a tense silence filled the gap, “This...This cannot happen.” Neteyam referred to their potential relationship, his hands at his side. 

“I do not understand you.. Do you not wish to be with me? Did I do something wrong?” Aonung turned his body to face Neteyam entirely, his hands grabbing both of Neteyam’s and squeezing them gently in the middle of his hands. 

“No.. You have done nothing wrong. I think it will be best for us to end this now,” Neteyam couldn’t even look at Aonung in the eyes, his hands were shaking and Aonung couldn’t help but feel hurt that Neteyam would even suggest they stop this relationship now.

“You must be someone of your kind, a strong Metkayina, someone who understands the way of water.” Neteyam’s words were rushed, as if he didn’t want to give Aonung the opportunity to speak. 

“I want you,” Aonung felt frustrated immediately, was this why Neteyam wanted to end ‘this’. It was a terrible excuse. 

“You must be with your own kind- they will never accept me.. Aonung, you will be a great leader one day, you mustn’t waste your time with someone like me.” Neteyam tried to plead with him, but those golden eyes were saying otherwise. 

“You are a strong Metkayina. You are one of us now.” Aonung spoke, he knew he had to keep a level-head otherwise his irrational emotions would get the best of him. 

“Aonung.. I am Omatikaya, when the war is over I will return home..” Not even Neteyam believed his own words, Aonung knew it, there was hesitation in that voice. Neteyam’s voice was usually confident when he believed in his words. 

“You have been ingrained in me, I do not wish for anyone else but you. I will become an Ole’eyktan worthy of you.” Aonung’s eyes were locked on Neteyam’s, he was looking to see if Neteyam had made his decision. 

“Please.. As much as I have enjoyed this time together, and you’ve made me happier than I have been in a long time.. Your parents-” Neteyam was fumbling with his words, they were full of hesitation. 

“Then look me in the eyes and tell me you do not wish to be with me, I will not accept this otherwise.” Aonung cut off Neteyam’s fumbling words, Neteyam looked up for a moment in shock. 

“I.. I do not..” Neteyam could not look him in the eyes, he tried though and immediately those golden orbs spilled the truth. “I want to be with you.. But you need to be with-” Neteyam started again and Aonung huffed in frustration. 

“I do not want anyone other than you, I have every intention to court you.” Aonung cupped Neteyam’s face with both hands, forcing him to lock eyes and look nowhere else. 

“I adore you.” 

Aonung’s words must have struck heavy with Neteyam because he nodded, his braids bouncing around as he did. Aonung could only take it as Neteyam had accepted his words and would dismiss this thought of ending ‘this’.

“Why must they look like they are in some tragic love story everytime we look for them? I swear your brother better not hurt mine. I’ll rip off that fish tail of his.” Lo’ak asked at the other end of the beach, he had been sent to gather his brother for bed. 

Similarly, Tsireya had been tasked with the same thing. “Perhaps their relationship is troubled..I wonder if ours will be like that.” Tsireya spoke softly, tilting her head as they walked through the sand slowly just enjoying their time together. 

“I would fight Payakan for you,” Lo’ak said seriously and Tsireya couldn’t help but giggle at that. “You would not need to do that, but I do appreciate the thought.” The two locked hands as they decided to give the couple at the other end of the beach some much needed alone time.

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[c-m-stuff]

Surrounded

-Description: You and Spencer are together. You were overwhelmed by the press, and began to panic.

-Warnings: Fluffiness, angst, Autism Spectrum Disorder (reader)

-Word count: 869

-Note: First things first, I mention here a "celebrity", I completely made that name up, so don't bother searching it up. I also talk here about Autism, so please have respect for this subject, as some people are seriously dealing with it. Everyone's experience is different. Be safe! <3

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_________________________

Y/N POV:

This case was different than the others. This time, a celebrity got killed. Mac Callen, a famous actor and director. Some hikers found him in the park. He was killed yesterday night, strangled to dead. But, of course, this was world news, it was all on tv.

Derek, Aaron, and me, just arrived back at the station. We saw JJ, already dealing with the press. There were so many of them.

We got out of the black SUV, but the press immediately surrounded us. All the cameras, microphones, and loud talking, overwhelmed me.

'Do you know who killed Mac?'

'Are all other celebrities in danger now?'

'The killer must to die!'

'Why got Mac killed, and not someone else?'

'Do you have any comment on what happened?'

So many questions. So many people. JJ always told us, to not answer questions until the press conference. So, I didn't said a word.

'We will answer your questions at the press conference. Thank you.' JJ spoke, before heading to the building.

I didn't really was honest, earlier. It's true, I said nothing. But, the truth is, I couldn't say something. I was so overwhelmed, with the whole press, and so many people coming at us. I just froze. I panicked, but was too scared to move.

Perhaps, Aaron and Derek noticed this. Derek came closer to me.

'Are you okey?' he asked, concern raising his voice.

Normally, I would say "I'm fine". I only would be completely honest, if something really wasn't fine. Just like now.

I shook my head, not able to answer with words. The press, who still surrounded us, didn't seem to notice at all. Or they don't care, who knows? Derek saw what was happening, and hold me close.

'You're going to be okey. Just stay close by me.' he spoke, calmly, as he held me close, while we tried to make our way through.

I clung to his arm, not daring to loose him. We made our way through the press, as we finally made it inside.

It was like I came back from trance, as it finally came through where I was. Here were less people. Some people of the team were here, some cops, it was much better now. But, that didn't changed the fact, that I still was nervous, and a little in panic.

'Are you alright?' Derek asked, as I slowly let go of his arm.

'Y-yeah, t-thank you.' I spoke, as the panic still grew.

'Excuse me.' I needed to get away from here, I needed to calm down. With quick pace, I walked to the conference room, knowing there was no one.

_________________________

Spencer's POV:

I just came back from the break room, as I saw (Y/N), walking away in quick pace. I immediately saw something was wrong.

'What happened?' I asked Morgan, as I began to worry.

'We just came back from the crime scene. The press was outside, surrounded us, and (Y/N) got overwhelmed and slammed shut.' he explained, as I began to understand the problem.

I walked quickly to the conference room, sawing she went to there.

'(Y/N)?'

And, that's when I saw her. She hold on to the table, her breathing uneven. She was clearly in panic. I gently placed a hand on her shoulder, in an attempt to comfort her.

'Everything is going to be fine, (Y/N). The press is gone, it's only the two of us.'

'I need you to breathe with me. Inhale and exhale. Inhale and exhale.' she followed my breathing, as she eventually calmed down.

She wrapped me into a sweet hug, while I softly rubbed her back.

'Everything is okey, love. You did so amazing, I'm so proud of you!'

'Thank you, Spence. I needed that. It's just-'

She stopped for a moment, struggling with her words.

'It came, because I have Autism.' she confessed, as I smiled softly, happy she finally admitted it.

'I know.'

'You know?' she asked, confused, as she pulled away a little, to face me.

'I know, because I myself have Autism Spectrum Disorder.'

'That explains, why you're the only one who really gets me. You really helped me through it.' a small smile, appeared on her lips.

'I'm glad, I could help.'

After a few more seconds, we decided we should go back to the rest of the team. Finding the unsub.

'Are you sure, you're okey?' I double checked, and she nodded.

As we came in sight of the others, they all looked concerned at her.

'Is everything okey?' I heard Morgan ask.

'I am now. Thank you, Derek. You really helped me a lot with the press.' (Y/N) said, smiling a little.

'No problem, pretty girl.'

[adelaidedrubman]

and then there was wednesday

i went and got tagged on this day of wednes by beloveds @direwombat @socially-awkward-skeleton @inafieldofdaisies @corvosattano to wip, thank you my beloveds!

bitches will be like “i’ll never actually write america’s sweetheart it’s a joke au” then be like “anyways here’s 600 words of america’s sweetheart, the definitive wildfire ending.” have some jestiny attempting to make her directorial debut, warnings for drug and alcohol use and me being annoyingly meta. and jestiny publicist pov

“Sure,” the actress chimed, twirling a strand of short red hair around her finger. “I heard it in Sunday school.”  “Then perhaps you could fuckin’ explain to me, Olivia,” Jestiny said, pausing to draw a deep breath in through flared nostrils, “Why I would be turning on the water works before he cut my hair?”  Olivia furrowed her brow. “Um, because you were afraid? You had to be. You were being chased through the woods by a crazy cult leader brandishing a knife.”  Jestiny’s eyes widened. Andrea pinched the bridge of her nose in anticipation. 

“It’s not about fear, it’s about vulnerability,” Jestiny ground out, jabbing a finger of her coffee cup-clasping hand towards the actress and causing the pungent drink that was definitely not coffee to slosh loudly inside. “That is the scary part — not the knife. The hair cutting is an act of intimacy,” she said pointedly. She waved her free hand as if conducting a symphony as she continued, “It’s the culmination of a careful dance, all about the subtle struggle of who’s leading. There should be build-up to it!” She pulled out an Altoid tin and shook out a few white tablets that were definitely not breath mints to chew on. “It’s supposed to be predictable, but still devastating! It’s a tragedy!”  She glared down at Olivia. “And it’s a tale of hubris. The protagonist is arrogant before the downfall, not scared and crying.”  Henry rose begrudgingly from his director’s chair. “That’s in your memoir?” “That’s in the Bible.”  “Your memoir is like the Bible, to me,” Flynn chimed in, fluttering his eyelashes and clasping a copy of Urges from God by Jestiny Rook pulled seemingly from thin air. Andrea almost pitied him, to not foresee he’d be dumped the moment he shaved for the premiere party like all the others had.  “You want me to play it more smug, then?” Olivia asked, flipping through the pages of the script, as if the method to Jestiny’s madness would be buried somewhere amongst stage directions.  “Fuck no!” Jestiny cried. “I have to be relatable and likeable. Someone the audience wants to root for to come out on top, not see crash and burn!” She threw back her cup, gulping down the last of its contents. “I’m not smug, that doesn’t sell. I’m a plucky and bold underdog. I’m cheerful. I’m compassionate. I’m humble. I’m…” She restlessly drummed her fingers against the cardboard of her empty cup. “I’m America’s fucking sweetheart!” Jestiny paused as the words rang against the walls, eyes scanning with a familiar frantic jitter along the blank faces of the crew as she crushed the empty coffee cup in her hand.  “But, like —” she fidgeted with the ends of hair that fell just above her collarbones. “In a way that respects the fuckin’ integrity of the greater symbolism, and all.” Olivia sighed. “Does that mean I’m supposed to cry before or after the haircut thing?” “You’re a fuckin’ hack, Olivia. Pun once again intended.” “Should I be crying?” Flynn asked, looking up from the book cradled in his arms. “What is my motivation in this scene — in the Biblical sense?”  “Are none of you fucking getting this?!”  “Wait,” Henry mumbled, peering over Flynn’s shoulders. “Was he saying he’s Delilah?”  A low growl sounded in the pit of Jestiny’s throat, a final warning.  “They —” She clenched her jaw so forcefully that Andrea could see dimples sink into her cheeks despite the thin line her lips scrunched into, a hard knot of muscle popping its hinges as she tilted her head down and to the side. She drew in a deep breath as her hand clenched into a fist, releasing it as a ragged exhale as she splayed the fingers straight with a back and forth jostle of her arm. “They should have never let a man direct this movie,” she said with finality as she stormed off set.  Andrea sighed, turning to the side and picking up the fruit plate she’d been grazing on just in time to save it as Jestiny flipped over the craft services table. 

tags out to my sweethearts @florbelles @josephslittledeputy @afarcryfrommymain @poetikat @just-another-wasteland-merc @voidika @captastra @confidentandgood @belorage @deputyash @blissfulalchemist @shellibisshe @thedeadthree @nightbloodbix @ladyofedens-blog @miyabilicious @simplegenius042 @henbased @clicheantagonist @firstaidspray @strafethesesinners @nuclearstorms @jackiesarch @v0idbuggy @orionlancasterr @stacispratt @8bitpizzacoupons @strangefable @shallow-gravy @roofgeese + opt in HERE to be tagged for writing wip shit!

[countrymusiclover]

29 - Two Dragon Queens

( Gif not mine - belongs to respectful owner )

Part 30

The Lion Knight and Dragon Princess

Tags- just send an ask to be added @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea

Tyrion’s pov

Someone rolled the dwarf over harshly waking him up where he saw multiple dragoon guards standing over him.  They yanked him up from his bed wearing only a night shirt and some trousers not given the chance to put on some boots so he was completely barefoot.  “What’s going on?  It seems a bit early and I doubt our queen would like to see me this way.” 

“Be quiet, dwarf.” One of the guards orders while the others push the door open, shoving him into the throne room of Dragonstone. 

Tyrion lifts his head up to the dragon queen seated on her chair. “Your grace, I’m quite confused on what is going on here.” 

“What is going on here is you lied to me.  You lied to me when you said that my sister would be loyal to my reign.  That she would come back with more men to my cause.” 

“It takes time to sail across the world as you know.  Give them time to respond.” He attempted to explain the possible situations. “Or we have to think of the worse option that they are dead.” 

She clasped her hands together in her lap. “How would you feel if that was the case?” 

“I would feel utterly horrible for the loss of my brother.  He always treats me better than the rest of my family.  And if Vaella was gone I’d miss a very dear friend, I happen to have few of those.” 

The Targaryen girl barely showed a sad expression on her face. “Let’s say she’s alive.  What would you have me do if she shows up here with an army claiming her queen of the seven kingdoms?” 

“I'd offer her a chance to explain.  You have offered the chance to bend the knee to others.  Your sister should be no different.” Tyrion clasped his hands together. 

“She has the same claim to the throne as I do.  Yet she’s the oldest daughter of our departed father meaning she could take the throne before I do.” 

Tyrion began getting more nervous seeing her purple eyes growing darker. “Vaella has never had any interest in claiming the throne.” 

“So she’s said.  That could just be a lie to you.  She could be swaying your brother and commanding your family’s fleet behind your back without your knowledge.” 

“Vaella and I are very good friends.  I have high faith that she’d never do such a thing to a friend.  My queen, please don’t lose belief that you’re sister will support you-“ 

Daenerys rose from her chair glaring down at her Hand. “Nothing you can say will change my mind.  Either my sister shows herself and proves her allegiance to my claim or she’s dead and you’ll spend the rest of your life rotting in a cell-“ 

“Queen Vaella Lannister , first of my name, formerly of House Targaryen , Lady of Casterly Rock, Adventurer of the Summer Sea and Sothoryos, Lady of The Dragon Island!” The double doors got thrown opened causing everyone to turn their heads when a random man announced someone’s entrance. 

Tyrion dropped his shoulders releasing a sigh of relief at seeing his friend stride into the room with a black crown on her head. “Vaella, thank the gods.” 

Vaella’s pov 

Striding up to my sisters thrown with my loose gown flowing behind me as I walked I showed no fear towards her.  Jaime followed behind me with our four little ones on his toes.  A few of the Valyria Queensguard were behind them.  “Sister.” I simply said giving her a curtsy. 

“Ser Barristan.” My sister called our fathers former knight's name causing him to draw his sword aiming it at the front of my chest. 

Moving my right hand down I draw out my Velaryon sword aiming it at the center of his chest. “Ser Barristan, you swore you’d always defend my family.  I know you wouldn’t strike your blade against your other Targaryen princess.” 

“I will defend the Queen I have pride in serving.  You're against my Queen at the moment.” He responded sternly. 

Gripping the handle of my sword I didn’t remove my locked gaze from the knights. “Jaime!” Jaime draws his sword telling the others to do the same.  My members of the guard draw their sword and my sisters men drew their weapons aiming them at my men waiting for either of us Queens to give our next command. 

“You let the man who profaned his blade with the blood of the King he swore to defend command your Queensguard!” Barristan scoffed in my direction, eyeing Jaime standing behind me. 

Glaring at the knight who protected me and my brother and was one of my friends. “Jaime, saved my life and the population of King's Landing by doing so, including yours.  He is also my husband and father of my children.  Rhaegar approved of him.” 

“He wouldn’t if he was still alive to see him stab your father in the back, princess.” 

Holding my sword still I poked him with my blade tip, knowing it wouldn’t break easily through his heavy armor. “My brother wouldn’t allow you to strike his baby sister if he was still alive though.  Is that what you want Ser Barristan to strike the only child left of Aerys II who lived through his reign of Wildfire and Blood.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you, princess Vaella.  But if my Queen commands me I shall do as I’m ordered to.” 

I knew the man before me was a true and loyal knight and he would be until the day he died. “Then lower your weapon, Ser Barristan….Daenerys, if you wish for a fight I will give you one but allow my children to leave before we do such a thing.  They are still innocent and I’d prefer to keep them that way for as long as possible.” 

“Escort the children out now!” She raised her head watching two dragon guards lead them out into the hallway. Slowly walking to the edge of the steps standing slightly behind her lord commander of her Queensguard. “Nyke’ll tepagon ao nykeā minute naejot explain aōla gō nyke mazverdagon issa decision. Yn nyke leaning va letting ao se ser barristan jikagon rȳ ziry rūsīr aōha korzoti. - I’ll give you a minute to explain yourself before I make my decision.  But I am leaning towards letting you and Ser Barristan go at it with your swords.” 

“You’re grace-“ Tyrion attempts to speak. 

She cut his sentence short. “I didn’t ask for your advice, Lannister.” 

Eyeing my sister I spoke old Valyrian to her. “Ziry istan dōrī issa intention naejot gūrogon se āegenka dēmalion se bona nykeēdrosa remains sir. Nyke dōrī intended naejot betray ao yn lo ao don’t jaelagon naejot emagon mirre competition hen someone qilōni shares aōha ānogar pār nyke vestragon - “It was never my intention to take the Iron Throne and that still remains now.  I never intended to betray you but if you don’t wish to have any competition from someone who shares your blood then I say -“ 

“Princess?” Ser Barristan raised a brow. 

Moving my sword down to the ground with a few steps backwards from the knight. “Raise your sword, Ser Barristan and face me.” Raising my blade slightly behind my head keeping my gaze focused on him. 

“Your grace?” The knight looked at his dragon queen. 

Daenerys simply answered. “Face my seemingly traitorous sister.” 

“Forgive me, Rhaegar.  Forgive me, princess.” Ser Barristan reluctantly raised his sword and we began charging at the other about to strike the other until the double doors flung opened making us halt in our tracks. 

Missandi rushed inside the room announcing. “The man named Jon Snow has arrived.” 

“Who the hell is Jon Snow?” Lowering my sword I placed it back in my holder on my hip. 

Tyrion came over taking my hand in his nodding for his brother to follow him. “You’ll like him and he’ll like you.  I know I like him.  Come I’ll introduce you, Vae.” The three of us left the throne room without a word to my sister.