#the first one is from the very small bit of writing i Have for a little tori and tybalt story

[mggslover]

Reflections

In which Spencer sees himself in a suspect, making him willing to do anything to protect her. Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: crime x angst? x fluff? Content warnings: post prisoner!spencer (but no spoilers bc i'm still on s11 lol, so sorry for inaccuracies), one time mention of suicide and rape (no details), fade to black smut so suggestive content Word count: 3,8k A/n: my own entry for #lovers1kevent ! bit different from what i usually write. didn't exactly turn out like how i had envisioned it, but i'm still very curious to hear your thoughts!

“Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. I see my reflection in your eyes.” The sound of a clock striking midnight made you jump in your seat, the plastic stool screeching loudly against the cold, concrete floor. The interrogation room was filled with nothing but the rhythmic ticking of the clock and the pounding of your heartbeat. Everything in this room felt eerie: a harsh light shone down on you, irritating your eyes, and there was no escaping your reflection in the two-way mirror in front of you. You observed yourself through the glass, and to put it simply, you looked awful. The dress you were wearing was crumpled as it hung loosely on your frame, the dark circles under your eyes were noticeable from a distance, and your eyes themselves expressed no spark. They looked dimmed, with no emotion behind the colored irises. Though, that had been so for a while now.

The creak of the door jolted you out of your thoughts. You turned your head, feeling disappointment when the same agent as before walked in. He wasn’t hard on the eyes: dark skin, rolled-up sleeves that showed his muscular forearms, a neatly trimmed goatee covering his sharp jaw, and eyes that looked just as cutting as they darted over you. Maybe, in another life, you would’ve considered dating him. In a life where he didn’t suspect you of killing three men.

He stayed quiet as he made his way over to you, taking a seat at the opposite side of the table. He placed a folder in front of him, shoving it toward you. “Still not going to talk?”

You cleared your throat. Nevertheless, the words came out hoarse. “I have nothing to say.”

He rolled his eyes in annoyance before crossing his arms. “Do I need to remind you of your rights? You can contact a lawyer, or we can get you one.”

“I also have the right to remain silent.”

A small huff escaped his lips, and you noticed the way he clenched his fingers, as though trying to hold himself back from making a comment he’d regret.

His eyes landed back on you, glaring. “A girl like you won’t survive in prison.”

“Well, then it’s good that I’m not going to prison,” you snapped back with a small smile. You weren’t going to let him intimidate you. You didn’t do anything wrong, yet here you were.

“I’d lose the attitude if I were you because it’s not looking good.”

Before you could open your mouth to respond, he cut you off. “Open the folder.”

You inhaled deeply before obeying. You hated the way you couldn’t help the nerves from creeping in. Your hand trembled as you opened the folder. The picture that greeted you was one of three lifeless bodies slumped over each other in an empty alley. A bitter tang formed in the back of your throat, but you ignored it, forcing yourself to look back at the agent.

“Looks familiar?”

Your eyes flicked over the image again. “What exactly are you referring to?”

“The people. Do you recognize them?”

You nodded.

“I want a clear answer,” he said, his voice raised.

“Yes,” you replied, matching his tone. “We went to college together.”

There was no way you could forget them. Unfortunately. The idea that they were wiped off the face of earth gave you a strange sense of comfort. Maybe now you could find the peace you’d been looking for. The peace she was looking for.

The agent seemed relieved to have gotten an answer out of you. “And you met up with them again today. Is that right?” he queried, nodding toward the folder.

You got the hint and pulled the first picture off the pile, revealing another underneath it. It was a selfie taken by two women. You spotted yourself in the right corner by the bar, in conversation with the three men he was referring to. His gaze stayed focused on you, trying to see if you’d reveal any emotion.

“It was our college reunion. As you can see I wasn’t the only one there,” you explained.

“Multiple witnesses have told us you were the last person seen talking to them.”

You shrugged. “Is that something significant?”

“Not necessarily so,” he answered, sitting up straighter. “What is, is that you left through the emergency exit. And what makes it even more suspicious is that you left right after the victims got their drinks served.”

You gave him a blank look.

“The victims were poisoned.”

Ah.

You offered him a tight smile. “I think that’s something you need to bother the bartender about.”

“We checked him out already. The only person we can connect to this case is you.”

A silence followed. It truly didn’t seem like you’d be leaving anytime soon. You rubbed your hands down on the material of your dress, gathering courage.

“It’s an unfortunate coincidence. Like I told you, I had nothing to do with it. I don’t want anything to do with them,” you clarified, the disdain evident on your tongue.

The agent turned his head around, looking at the two-way mirror. The thought of other agents standing behind that wall, all analyzing you full of judgement, made your skin crawl. 

“Seems like you’re not too fond of the men.”

You scoffed, “No one is.”

“What about Natalie Fisher?” he wondered aloud. “She seemed close to you. We found multiple pictures dating back to high school.”

Like a gust of wind, the memories came back to you. How you found Natalie standing in front of your college dorm room, smiling brightly as she introduced herself as your roommate. You instantly hit it off: sharing the same humor, the same passions. Only a year younger than you, but a carbon copy. From that day on you were inseparable. 

It all came back to that one night — that one time you bailed on her, deciding studying for an upcoming exam was more important than joining her at a frat party. It was only when she called you awake in the middle of the night, her voice shaking as her words tripped over her tongue, telling you she didn’t know where she was and how she woke up in an empty alley, possibly drugged and with her clothes torn — that you knew you made the biggest mistake in your life.

You shook the thoughts away. Pursing your lips as you shrugged. “She was. I don’t know why you’re bringing her up.”

“Her report says she died two years ago from suicide. Or did you kill her as well?”

It felt like he’d knocked the breath out of you. You made a choking sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry. “You’re sick,” you spat in disbelief.

“I’m sick?” He chuckled sarcastically. “You’re the one who murdered those people.”

“I didn’t murder anyone!”

The sound of your yelling reverberated off the concrete walls, the echo scaring you. You squeezed your eyes shut, holding back tears as you bit your tongue. There goes your attempt at staying calm. He was playing games with your mind. You knew this was all a trick — a way to get you to admit to the crimes he was naming. And it drove you crazy that it was having an effect.

“I’m not talking to you anymore,” you muttered.

-`♡´-

Spencer couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as he looked through the glass. You’d been sitting there for three hours, forty-three minutes, and twenty-six seconds, counting. He didn’t know what it was about you that made it impossible to look away. Hotch had told him to go home. Hotch was certain that they got the right unsub, and he assured him that you’d confess at some point. But he couldn’t get himself to move. To turn his head even. All he felt was a nagging guilt as he watched you being questioned by Morgan. It was a different experience to see an interrogation when he’s been in one himself. He now understood what it was like. How pressuring their questions can be, how the weight of a sentence is crushed on your shoulders, and how they keep pushing you to the point where you even start doubting your own truth. 

All he could think of when he saw you was innocence. A soft, radiant white light surrounded you. You were bright even against the harshness of the room. There was no rational way to explain how he felt, only that he sensed the deepest desire to keep you safe from everything that could hurt you.

“She’s working on my nerves,” Morgan exclaimed, tension visible in his shoulders as he stomped out of the interrogation room. 

“We can’t stop,” Hotch stated. “We haven’t gotten an answer out of her yet.”

Morgan let out a deep huff. “It’s clear that she did it.”

Spencer's focus was back on you. Since he’s been to prison he’s been more aligned with his feelings. His heart overpowering his mind at times. 

“She’s not our unsub,” Spencer spoke up, surprising even himself with the firmness of his voice.

Everyone looked at him expectantly, waiting for the genius revelation he always had. But the room stayed silent.

Hotch eyed him, “What makes you say that?”

“I just know.” Spencer replied, not caring to elaborate further. He nudged Derek aside and headed for the door. “I’ll take it from here.”

He pulled the heavy metal door open, at once met with your doe eyes as you faced him. For the first time tonight, you didn’t flinch when someone entered. 

Spencer had to swallow. His gaze momentarily dropped to the floor, feeling overwhelmed by how beautiful you looked up close. You seemed tired, cold, yet somehow angelic.

His eyes never left yours as he made his way over to you. You held his gaze, observing him with the same intensity as he was. He carried a calm, magnetic presence, which made you feel an unexplainable urge to get closer to him.

“Are you cold?” he eventually asked, his voice gentle and considerate.

You blinked at his question, clearly not expecting it. You remembered how you were only wearing a light dress, noticing the goosebumps that had formed on your bare legs. Inevitably, you nodded.

He surprised you again by taking off his suit jacket and draping it over your shoulders. The fabric felt heavy, enveloping you like a warm blanket.

“Thank you,” you silently mumbled, noticing a small dimple appear in his cheek.

He sat down in front of you, resting his arms on the table between you, as though compelled to get as close as possible. The moment felt intimate, your eyes locked on his tender brown ones, making the world fade around you. “I believe you.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, a frown formed on your face as you realized he wasn’t about to say more. “What?”

“I believe you,” he repeated in the same composed manner. He leaned forward even further, and it was then that you noticed you had subconsciously mirrored his movement, drawn to him like a magnetic pull. 

“They suspect you, but I don’t.”

He didn’t need to rephrase his words for you to understand who he meant by them. You could almost feel the other agents’ glaring stares pressing down on you through the glass.

“Try to forget about them,” he reminded you, as if reading your thoughts. You didn’t look up to face him, instead your focus was on the proximity of your hands on the table, his finger just inches away from touching yours. Spencer noticed the look in your eyes, and moved his little finger just enough to brush against yours.

An electric shock coursed through you. Simultaneously, both of you shuddered, stunned as you saw the other wearing the same stupefied expression. Sure, it could’ve been a static shock, but something told you it was more than that. And by the look of the curly haired agent, he felt the same.

“Why don’t you?” you asked, returning to the subject. “Suspect me, I mean.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “Because I know what it’s like to be in a situation like you are.” He saw the confusion written on your face, continuing his explanation. “There’s something about being in a room like this — being treated like you’re guilty before you even speak — that makes you start questioning your own truth.” 

Questions flooded your mind, but you chose not to press further. You had someone who believed you, you weren’t going to ruin that opportunity by being too curious.

“So, what now?” your voice sounded more sure, hopeful even.

“Usually, we ask people if they’re willing to take a polygraph exam,” he explained. “It can also be referred to as a lie detector test, even though that term is often used incorrectly. A professional will ask a series of questions, and as you answer, the device will measure multiple psychological indicators which are associated with lying, like your blood pressure and pulse. I know it can sound scary, but in cases like these — when there’s no clear evidence — it might be the only thing keeping you from going to prison.”

His words hit you hard, though the gleam in his eyes remained soft. You inhaled deeply before nodding. “I’ll do it.”

-`♡´-

“She’s telling the truth.”

You hadn’t known pure relief until now. Your eyes closed, trying to stop the flood of emotions from flowing in when the pressure cuffs and sensors were being removed from your arms and hands. You didn’t know whether to cry or to cheer, but when you opened your eyes and saw Spencer — who had introduced himself as Dr. Reid, smiling at you, you were sure everything would turn out okay.

“Impossible,” the agent who questioned you earlier huffed under his breath.

The chief who had introduced himself as Aaron Hotchner walked up to you. “For now you’re free to go. However, this case isn’t closed yet. You’ll remain our primary suspect until we find more proof.”

The sharpness in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. You kept quiet as he and the other agents left the room, leaving you alone with Dr. Reid.

He closed the distance between you two, standing near enough that he could see all the details on your face. He fought the urge to tuck the loose strings of hair behind your ear, to hold you and tell you that you were okay.

“You did really well,” he said with a soft smile. “Your heartbeat stayed on an average of 70 beats per minute, only going up to 86 once, which is still in the normal range.”

“Did you peek at the monitor?” you jokingly teased.

“I- uh, no. I just counted.” Spencer shyly admitted, earning a playful grin from you. You took his hand in yours, his palm slightly sweaty, as if he was nervous about the outcome too. Then you placed his hand on your chest, right where your heart was. “What about now? Higher than average?”

He swallowed, a blush creeping up his neck. “95 beats per minute.”

The tension between you was palpable, though his touch felt comforting. Your hand was placed over his, and you could both feel the way your heartbeat steadily decreased as you brushed your fingers soothingly over his.

“Can I drive you home?” Spencer offered.

You bit your lip in an effort to hide your grin, but then the corners of your mouth slightly dropped. “I don’t really have a place to stay.”

His brows lifted in surprise, but an empathetic twinkle appeared in his bambi eyes. “You could stay at my place.”

Spencer wasn’t sure why the words came out, but he meant them. He could practically hear the voices of his team telling him to not get involved with someone on a case, let alone a potential suspect. But it wasn’t like he was the first person to do so. And he wouldn’t waste the opportunity of getting closer to you. Maybe if he could get to know you better, if he could make you comfortable enough to open up to him, he could prove to everyone that you were innocent. Because deep down, he knew you were.

-`♡´-

“Hey, hey, hey! What are you doing, man?” Morgan called out, rushing after Spencer, who had just entered the bullpen to grab his satchel bag before heading out with you.

“Hotch told me I could go home,” he hastily replied, stuffing his papers into his bag.

“Yeah, two hours ago. Before you decided to flirt with a suspect,” he exclaimed in frustration.

“I didn’t flirt with her,” Spencer recounted under his breath.

Morgan let out a dry laugh. “Everyone saw what went on in that room, Reid,” he shook his head in disbelief. “I would’ve least expected this from someone like you.”

“Someone like me doesn’t exist anymore, Derek,” Spencer snapped, a sharp edge to his voice. “I’m not who I was before prison, and neither will I ever be that person again. However, I can help her from turning into someone like me. So, if you don’t mind, I am leaving now.” 

He left Morgan at a loss of words as he walked off. You were waiting on him; your posture stiffened as you wrapped his jacket closer around you. Gently, Spencer threaded his fingers through yours and guided you to the elevator.

Once inside, Spencer pressed the button to the ground floor, then leaned his head back to the wall, letting out a fatigued sigh.

“I am sorry for causing you trouble,” you apologized, nervously picking at the fabric of his jacket that hung loosely over your arms.

His gaze softened, and he shook his head before he reached out to hold your hand once more. It was ironic how he longed for your grounding touch. “You’re not causing me any trouble. I’m sorry for the way they’re treating you. It’s our job to be cautious, to not easily trust someone.”

You squeezed his hand. “But you trust me,” you stated, though it came out more as a question, waiting for confirmation.

His other hand lifted up to touch your cheek, and his heart warmed at how you instinctively leaned into his touch. “I do.”

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “Can you prove it to me?”

He responded with a soft chuckle, reaching up to cup your face in his large palms. You rose to your tiptoes, leaning in until his sweet lips found yours.

-`♡´-

Spencer had expected to spend the ride home talking to you. Instead, you spent the entire ride trying to resist the urge to climb on top of each other. Once he tasted your lips, he couldn’t get enough, and neither could you.

Your giggle sounded through the dimly lit halls of his apartment complex as he dragged you up the stairs. 

“Hurry,” you impatiently chuckled as he struggled to find his keys in his bag. He joined your giddy laughter as you entered the apartment. The second he shut the door close, he gently pressed you against the wall, his lips finding yours again. You let out a satisfied hum, your fingers sliding into the soft curls of his hair, tugging on it as he bit down on your bottom lip.

“Wait—one second,” he murmured.

“No,” you pouted, capturing his lips. 

He kissed you back—then again, and again—before finally pulling away. “I just need to put my gun away.”

“Fine,” you mumbled, pressing one last kiss to his lips. “Just make it quick.”

He gave you a big grin and walked to the cupboard, where his safe was hidden behind his jackets and a row of spare shoes. It felt strange to have someone in his apartment. Strange to be smiling so brightly, to feel so much, after the emptiness prison has brought him. But strange didn’t mean bad. It felt new. And new could be good. You could be good.

His fingers pressed down on the familiar buttons: 62383. With a soft click, the lock opened; he took his gun from its holster on his pants and safely put it away.

When he turned back, he saw you leaning against the wall, a sweet expression on your face as you awaited him. He strode toward you, immediately pulling you in and kissing you fiercely.

Spencer was aware of his actions. Aware that he shouldn’t be doing what he was about to do with you. But as his hand made contact with the warm skin of your inner thighs, and as your sweet sounds filled the air, he chose to simply not care.

-`♡´-

The next morning you woke up with messy curls tingling against your face. You chuckled as Spencer lay asleep with his head resting on your chest. Your fingers ached with the urge to graze them through his hair, to press a soft kiss to the top of his head. Instead, you held your breath as you climbed from underneath him.

The golden sun shone brightly through the curtains, illuminating your surroundings. You tiptoed through the room, gathering the items of clothes one by one, until you were fully dressed. 

Wearing yesterday’s dress sent a shiver through your body, being reminded of the long hours spent in that bleak interrogation room. 

You mumbled a sorry, before opening his closet and fishing a T-shirt out of it, a blue one with a faded Caltech logo, barely visible. You ignored the thoughts forming in your head, the itch to want to know more about the man who was still sleeping soundlessly in the bed that you shared. 

Once you found yourself a suitable pair of pants, Spencer started groaning from the other side of the room. You turned around, catching his hand patting down the empty space beside him, as if in search of the heat of your body. It felt irresistible to not check up on him. You slowly made your way to his side of the bed, crouching down and lightly stroking his face. His eyes blinked open, and the way he smiled made your heart churn. 

“I need to go,” you softly whispered to him.

His smile faltered. “Where to?” He sat up straighter on the bed, but you gently pushed him back down.

“Will I see you again?” Spencer asked when you didn’t respond.

Your lips curled in a smile, “I’m sure you will.”

And sure you were, because as soon as you left the bedroom, you were headed to the cupboard, pushing aside the jackets that hung on the hooks, until your eyes landed on the shining steel safe. 

62383.

The lock sprung open, and in a swift motion you took the gun and hid it in the bottom of your purse. I will be seeing you again, Spencer. Just under different circumstances.

[vettelsvee]

hiii!! 2 with oscar please?😭

YOU WANT THAT BOOK? I'LL BUY YOU THE WHOLE SERIES | Oscar Piastri

Oscar Piastri x Girlfriend!Reader

SUMMARY: Oscar takes you to a bookstore and, after he sees you fingerling over a saga, he decides to buy it for you (without knowing it was about fictional versions of Formula 1 drivers) ↳ REQUESTED: Part of VEE'S F1 PROMPTS LIST (VOL. I)! Feel free to request anything you want <3 Hope you liked it anon! 💖

WORD COUNT: 1891

WARNINGS: Brief mention of drugs, mentions to Dirty Air saga (spoiler free) with not much knowledge about it

VEE'S NOTES: Was I expecting posting a fic today? No. Did I have to write something to distress after the pretty bad exam I made today? Yes! Now writing this and thinking about Teacher!Seb fics has made me feel in a better mood (ngl I'm pretty disappointed with myself). Anyways, hope you like today's fic and remember that, if you did, feel free to comment me your thoughts and, also, reblog as it helps me a lot! Thank you so much for reading <3 ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | TALK TO ME! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

The moment you crossed the doors of the bookstore, you felt like you were at home.

Maybe it was the scent of vanilla and coffee, or perhaps the instrumental music playing softly, just like the one you were used to listen to at home in the afternoons while spending hours lost in a book and its story. You were so excited that you gripped Oscar’s hand tightly, your heart pounding faster than usual at the movie-like moment you were living.

"Alright…" Oscar began, his gaze wandering in every direction, completely absorbed by the towering bookshelves surrounding you both. "I’ve taken you to a bookstore, so I think my job here is officially done."

You stared at him in disbelief before rolling your eyes.

"Osc, you don’t just take your girlfriend to a bookstore. You stay with her the whole time to live the experience, you know… that whole reader's boyfriend thing."

Now it was Oscar’s turn to roll his eyes, though he couldn’t help but smile as you spun around and rushed toward a nearby table. Despite having little to no interest in reading, unless it involved race reports or it was Mark Webber’s biography, he loved the passion you had for books. Though, much to your dismay, he had never actually finished any of your recommendations even you insisted on him a lot.

"Yeah, okay, sure. You lead the way, Mrs. Bookworm…"

You weren’t listening. Instead, you were completely lost, eyes darting from one book to another, unable to stand still from sheer excitement. The overwhelming number of stories in front of you didn’t help either.

Then, it happened. The moment you spotted the book you had been searching for longer than you cared to admit, you let out a small squeal. Oscar jumped at the sudden sound, hurrying over to you only to find you clutching a red book, turning it over in your hands, inhaling its scent like it was some rare artifact.

"Oh… my… god…" you whispered.

Oscar glanced at the cover. Throttled. His eyes flickered to the camera and polaroids, especially the one in the center, which showed a red car eerily similar to the one Charles had driven a few years back when he first joined Ferrari.

"Oh…" Oscar muttered as realization hit him. "So it’s a Formula 1 book…"

Do Formula 1 romantic books exist?, thought Oscar, a bit in disbelief.

You turned to him, shoving the book in his face.

"It’s not just a Formula 1 book! It’s THE Formula 1 book! Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted it for?"

"Since before we started dating, or after?" he teased, smirking. "You’re dating an actual Formula 1 driver, and here you are, thrilled to read a love story about one."

"Noah Slade is different. Very different, actually."

"Oh, so I guess this Noah guy is gonna replace me now, huh?" Oscar feigned offense.

"Well… I like you more. A lot more. And… I don’t know… you’re you. No one could ever compare, so…"

It wasn’t just you who turned red. Oscar did too, lowering his gaze while you pretended to read the book, using the pages as a shield to hide just how flustered you were.

This wasn’t how you had imagined telling Oscar you loved him for the first time.

"Well…" you tried to speak, clearing your throat, but Oscar cut in.

"Are you getting it?"

You opened your mouth but hesitated. It was a limited edition, and also very expensive. If you bought this one, you’d have to get the rest of the series too, but you were broke because, of course, you had impulsively bought five books just last week.

"Uh… I don’t know…" you murmured.

He studied your face for a few seconds, and without thinking too much about it, he stepped closer and grabbed the book from you.  

“What are you doing?”  

“Buying it for you,” he said casually as he walked toward the checkout.  

“Oscar, don’t you dare!” you shouted, rushing after him and snatching the book from his hands to put it back on the shelf. “You don’t have to—”  

“You want that book?” he asked. You nodded timidly. “I’ll buy you the whole series.”  

You stumbled, nearly falling as you tried to stop Oscar from grabbing Collided, Wrecked, and Redeemed.

“Oscar, you can’t just buy me an entire series just because…” you whispered, trying to keep up with his hurried steps.  

“Oh, no? And why not?”  

“Because… Because…” You opened and closed your mouth, struggling to find a reasonable enough answer to make him stop. “Because… It's too much money, Osc, that’s not right!”  

Oscar laughed. You knew perfectly well that your boyfriend was a millionaire, and even though he was very careful with his money and his expenses, buying four books wasn’t much of an expense for him the way it was for you.  

“Besides, you already spend so much time around the Formula 1 world. I don’t think it’s necessary for you to spend even more time listening to me obsess over fictional drivers and talk about them nonstop.”  

“Don’t worry, love, I’ll be more than happy to hear you ramble about those cheap copies of us,” Oscar scoffed, smiling at the cashier as he handed over the books.  

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, giving up as the woman started scanning the books.  

“And yet you love me…”  

Your face burned instantly. Not knowing how to respond, you focused on watching Oscar swipe his card and chat briefly with the cashier about you, his girlfriend, before taking the paper bag with the books inside.  

“Boys nowadays should be more like you, son,” the woman commented to Oscar, beaming. Then she turned to you. “And you, sunshine, enjoy your books and your wonderful boyfriend as well!”  

You nodded shyly. Oscar bid the woman goodbye and headed for the exit, holding the bag in one hand while placing the other on your back, guiding you outside before wrapping an arm around your waist.  

You couldn’t stop wondering what you had done to deserve such a thoughtful and attentive boyfriend like Oscar.  

“So, I guess now you’re going to try to make me read this series… Dirty Air, am I right?”  

“Oh, absolutely,” you said, finally looking at him and pushing aside that lingering shyness, the feeling that you didn’t deserve such a gift. “I’m convinced you’re going to fall in love with Santiago Alatorre.”  

“Santiago Alatorre?” Oscar repeated, curious. “Wait, wait… Are these characters, like… completely fictional? Or are they based on any of us?”  

You chuckled softly, carefully taking the bag from Oscar because you were excited to carry it yourself.  

“Well…”  

“Oh, come on. Don’t act like you don’t know, because that’s already an answer in itself.”  

You bit your lip, unsure whether to tell him the truth. It was obvious, really, but you felt… weird about him discovering the fantasies the author had written based on some of them, and moreover the fandom surrounding those stories.  

“Okay, fine…” you sighed, giving in. “Yeah, some of them are based on you guys.”  

“And?”  

Oscar raised an eyebrow, though he wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to know more about what was written about them.

“What do you mean and?”

“Who each of us is who. If there are supposedly four main characters…”

“Oh, yeah, about that…” You played with your hands, mentally trying to stay calm and not go into full fangirl mode, like you always did whenever Oscar talked about something that excited him. “So… Noah is supposed to be Charles, at least physically and in terms of teammates… but his personality and life are much more like Max’s. You know, toxic father and all that…”

“So, this Noah guy is a menace? Like Max back during the 2023 season?”

“No, no! I guess he’s… ambitious, let’s say.”

“And the others?”

“Liam, the one from the second book, is a bit complicated,” you commented. “People see him as Pierre, and some others as Mick, but to me, since he’s German, he’s kinda like Nico Rosberg mixed with Seb’s personality from his Red Bull years… or at least the way teenage girls see him, like a playboy type. I think you’re too sure what I’m talking about”

“And not just teenage girls I must say,” Oscar added.

“Then there’s Jax, who is one hundred percent Lewis,” you continued. “Jax is Liam’s teammate, so it makes sense, you know… what I explained to you earlier.”

Oscar nodded, understanding very little but happy to see you so excited.

“And the last one, Santiago, the one I mentioned before, is Carlos,” you blurted out with a growing smile. “He’s Spanish and Charles’... I mean, Noah's teammate! And, well… they say he’s really cute, so I hope to read the first three books as quickly as possible to get to his.”

“I’m starting to think that, from the way you talk about him, he’s going to become your newest addition to you not so short fictional crushes list,” Piastri laughed.

“Oh, absolutely. You know I have a thing for the good guys, and according to the TikToks I’ve watched, Santi is exactly that.”

“I can’t believe you’re fantasizing over fictional versions of my rivals,” Oscar said, tilting his head as he laughed.

“Don’t be dramatic, Osc. Why do you think I like Santi so much from what I’ve seen? Because he’s supposed to be as much of a sweetheart as you!” you exclaimed. “But I promise that no matter how much I talk about these guys after tonight, once I start the first book, it’ll just be some kind of substitute for you or whatever ridiculous thing you’re imagining.”

“You know what?” You tilted your head. “I think you should write one of those Formula 1 romance books based on our story.”

Your eyes widened in shock, unable to believe what your boyfriend had just said.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean it. You should do it,” Piastri shrugged. “I know how much you love writing, and seeing how happy these books make you… Plus, I’m curious to see what kind of terrible personality you’d give me. You could make me the typical egotistical guy who constantly gets into PR trouble for, I don’t know, smoking weed? Like what happened with Zayn and Louis from One Direction. You told me about that once, right?”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back your laughter and look serious, but it was impossible.

“Bold of you to assume I’m not already writing a fanfic about us and posting it on Tumblr.”

Oscar’s jaw dropped.

“What?”

You laughed again.

“No, Y/N, that’s not funny. You’re joking, right? Tell me you’re joking…”

“Do you really think I am?” you teased, raising an eyebrow, feeling quite pleased that you had finally confessed one of your best-kept secrets, one you had been dying to tell him even you felt a bit ashamed.

Oscar stared at you, his mind struggling to process the information.

Were people actually reading a story about his life, possibly with real details, and thinking it was completely fictional?

“What exactly are you writing about… us, Y/N?”

You just giggled, took his hand, interlaced your fingers with his, and kept walking.

“I don’t know. I guess you’ll have to check out jellyastri81 on Tumblr and find out for yourself.”

[chilling-seavey]

George teaching your daughter how to play backgammon and saying she learned better than her brother

LOVE IT. For those who haven't read the blurb this is referring to, you can read it here

George stared down dumbly at the backgammon board sitting on the small patio table in front of him. Eyes wide in disbelief, he tried to wrap his mind around what he was looking at. The meticulously placed red chips still lined up in his home board...the white chips all piled outside of the set and on the table top.

Ever the learner and momentarily confused by his sudden silence, his four-year-old daughter blinked up at him from the other side of the table in the back garden, "Now what?"

"Now...nothing," George stammered out, "You...won."

"Oh," she grinned and looked down at the board too, "Yippee! That was easy."

Just then, you brought them some lemonade, setting the glasses down on the table, "How's it going?"

"I won, Mommy!" your daughter announced proudly.

Your eyebrows raised, "You won?"

You glanced at George who looked absolutely beside himself in confusion.

Sensing your unspoken questions, he explained dully, "I was teaching her for the first little bit and then...she just got the hang of it."

Your daughter shifted on the patio chair to rest on her knees and lean over the board again, already starting to put the pieces back in their starting positions, "Can we play again, Daddy? I like winning."

You snorted and set a hand on George's shoulder, "Oh, she sounds like you."

George, who also liked winning, bit his tongue. The last thing he wanted to be was a sore loser in front of his four-year-old. Instead, he reached out to pinch your hip in silent retaliation for your sass and you yelped quietly and swatted his arm.

George then leaned forward to help the little girl set up the board again, explaining as he did so, "You know, jellybean, your brother didn't learn as quickly as you have. You've given me a real challenge here."

"Really?" she glanced at him in surprise, like backgammon was the easiest thing known to mankind.

You spoke up with a matter-of-fact, "Even I have never beaten Daddy so you must be very talented."

Her little mouth dropped open and she looked back at her father for confirmation. A proud little smirk at your statement of the truth came to his lips and he nodded.

"Wow, I'm better than Daddy and Mommy!" she squealed.

"Hey, now," George defended lightly, "I've had this board for enough time to make up five of your lifetimes. Don't think your one stroke of beginner's luck means you're reigning champion."

His just-as-competitive daughter narrowed her eyes at him as if challenging him right then and there. He stared back just as firmly into the eyes that were carbon copies of his own, steepling his fingers as he waited for her to make the first roll.

As she lunged forward to grab the dice, you swatted his arm to get his attention and leaned down to remind him lightly against his ear, "She's four. Don't be too competitive with her."

With an almost maniacal laugh, pleased with her roll, the little girl announced loudly, "Ha ha! Sucker!"

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[yoursweetheartsrevenge]

Summary: While touring the countryside, Aegon and Aemond get lost from the rest of the royal party. Left with no other choice during a thunderstorm, they enter a quaint inn with no rooms left. Surely they can convince the maiden who paid for the last available room to share?

Read on Ao3

Written for @hotd-bigbang

Warnings: smut (fingering, p in v sex, oral - female and male receiving, threesome), loss of virginity, Aegon has only one thing on his mind, MINORS DNI, 18+ 

Word Count: 7.9K+

Author’s Note: Written for @hotd-bigbang First Prompt: Tropes - one room, one bed, love triangle kind of. This is the first time I am writing Aegon as a main character and writing the two brothers together. I had a fantastic time. I suspect more Aegon x Reader X Aemond in my future writings. Also apparently I can’t keep anything short!

On A Dark Stormy Night You Awaken

The meal is warm while the outside rages. 

You can hear the thunder shake flickering the candles laid about the cozy interior of the inn. You slice into the breaded mutton with thin utensils glad to have the last room for the night. The storm had caused many travelers to flock to the inn on the road to King’s Landing. There were many who were going to the tourney for the prince’s name day. 

At this point in the evening, slightly damp and a bit nervous, you could not remember which prince was celebrating the joyous occasion. 

Your wares were in your single bedroom nestled in the corner of the room. Before retreating to receive some warm food, you had been working to repair a small trinket in your collection. As a jeweler it was your duty to inspect each piece of your trade to make sure only the finest quality made its way to lords and ladies willing to spend coin at the tourney. 

While the tools laid abandoned upstairs, the fine emerald ring laid perfectly on your finger. The silver band glistened thickly in the candlelight as you admired the craftsmanship and the resetting of the stone now nestled safely in the band. The stone had come loose a few times, but you had managed to reset it to make it truly a beautiful piece. 

Your stomach had rumbled reminding you that you had spent far too long working. 

The nice piece of meat and freshly cooked potatoes seasoned with garlic and thyme made happiness sing on your face. It was quite late so you were truly excited to see it was only you and the barkeep awake. You were certain the older woman was the owner of the inn as well. 

She had been very kind to give you the last room this late in the evening. 

You had told her your tale of woe. Your family had deemed you well crafted enough to venture off to represent the family alone at the tourney. Your father would normally travel with you, however he had taken ill in the past few weeks never truly recovering enough to travel. Your mother needed to stay by his side to nurse him back to health. 

Being the only child of your family it was your duty to represent. You had joined a group of merchants from your village and neighboring communities to venture forward. The journey shouldn’t have been too long. 

Perhaps only a few days, however a great storm had broken through the clouds in the early afternoon leaving the winds and slanted rain a troubling sight for your old mare. Betsy was a sturdy girl, but was no match for the stubborn storm or the lightning for that matter. It was best not to push her. It had resulted in you being separated from your group and ending up here for the evening. 

The wind howled louder breaking you from your thoughts. The door smacked open against the wooden walls of the inn from the power of the rains outside. Two hooded figures entered. The taller one pushed the door closed while the other made their way confidently over to the inn’s owner who was eating a small plate of bread and cheese. 

You could tell by the voice that there was an air of entitlement to the tone of the male voice who no doubt was inquiring  for a room. You smile to yourself as you hear the raised voice wondering why there is no room for him and his companion. You know of men of his type, feeling as if the world owed them something simply for being a man. 

The whispers became more hushed. 

You look up to see the hooded figure at the counter is looking your way as the woman behind the counter casually points to you. The taller figure seems to be looking down waiting for conversation to end. You can see his long silver hair clings to his neck under his hood. 

A set of violet eyes peak in your direction with a smile so charming you wonder if you will actually give your room to them should they approach. 

They most certainly approach you. 

“Greeting, my dear.” His voice is oozing with confidence. You spear a potato before deciding it should be cut into a smaller piece. “Pardon us for interrupting your meal, but we are quite weary from travel, my brother and I.” Said brother is behind him, peering curiously to you. You can tell from his sharp features that under that hood lies a dashing young gentleman. “The inn keep has told me you have taken the last room here. And it appears you are the only one still awake at this late hour.” 

At that thunder rattles shaking the building and the dinnerware. You hold your plate as if it should fall. This makes the man in front of you smile, endeared at your caution. 

“I was wondering if you would be so kind as to share your room for the night.” 

You look between them. 

Their hoods are no longer clinging to their heads. 

You can see them. 

Violet eyes. 

Silver hair. 

A charming smile from one. 

A solemn serious expression of the other. 

These are the Targaryen princes. 

You have, of course, never met them, but the girls in your village whisper of them as girls do with princes. Aegon is the charming one who is sought after by many ladies. Aemond is the quieter, more serious sort of prince who trains and studies by way of sword and pen. Of course, both have been described as handsome young men worthy of swooning. 

They are standing before you asking for you to share your room. 

Your single bedroom. 

“We can pay you triple what you paid.” He tells you already retrieving a large sack of coin from under his cloak. 

“There is only one bed in the room, mi’lord.” You say sounding quite innocent. 

“We can all share.” He says sounding a bit as though he expects you to do more then simply share your bed. 

“We will sleep on the floor, my lady.” It is the first time you hear the taller one, Prince Aemond, you suspect based on the description your village friends have given, speak. His voice almost sounds gruff as if he is privy to choosing his words carefully. 

“We will do no such thing.” Aegon argues brushing his brother’s thought aside. “We will be well behaved unless the lady hopes otherwise.” The hood falls then revealing how truly handsome Prince Aegon is. His smile makes your heart curl in your throat. You can not help yourself. You shove a potato in your mouth to stop your smile and perhaps halt your blush. 

“We will sleep on the floor.” Aemond looks sharply at his brother. 

“You can sleep on the floor, brother. I would be honored to share a bed with the prettiest girl in the inn.” You blush at the elder prince’s flattery. 

“I do not mind sharing.” What are you saying?! You are not betrothed. You have never in your life shared a bed with a young man, let alone two! Let alone TWO TARGARYEN PRINCES!!! “If it is your wish . . .” You wait to whisper the next words. “My princes.” 

They are not surprised you recognize them. 

“See, Aemond, she is generous. And ready to serve the crown.” Aegon winks at this. You look down at your food. “Let us celebrate our new accommodations. Barkeep! A round of ale for us and our new lady companion!” He waves to the inn owner. You can see she struggles to be polite. 

It is quite late. 

***

You find yourself a bit tipsy after two ales. 

It is a pleasant buzz, but you are used to enjoying some libations with a meal. The brothers ordered a platter of cheese, fruit, and bread to pick at as they enjoyed your company while you finished your dinner. 

Aegon discussed the entire journey that their mother had insisted they travel on to see the kingdom. You learn it is Aegon’s name day that will be celebrated in a few short days. You barely get a word in to explain who you are. It is no matter to Prince Aegon who continues to compliment your beauty and how soft your lips look. 

You manage to mention that you are also journeying to King’s Landing, but that is all. Aegon seems excited by the prospect of spending more time with you touching your arm softly. You note that he watches your face to make sure you are enjoying his little touches. He must clearly see you are because he spends most of the latter part of the meal tracing your knuckles softly. 

Aemond looks down most of the evening eating small pieces of fruit. You note how he likes to take small bites and savor the flavors of each piece of food he enjoys. Aegon merely shoves food in his mouth without a thought. Upon hearing you are traveling to King’s Landing the younger prince perks up. You catch his one eye noting for the first time the leather eye patch there on the other eye. 

That eye is curious. Perhaps always curious. 

He watches you as you twist the ring on your finger nervously. 

As you make your way up to your room, Aemond saddles up beside you. 

“Are you married, my lady?” It is a question you had not imagined to be asked. “Your ring.” He motions toward the silver band. 

“Oh.” You can not help but laugh. Immediately you cover your mouth. “Apologies, mi’lord. It is not a wedding band or even a symbol of betrothal. I am a jeweler. I was re-setting the stone earlier in the evening. I like to wear what I make as a symbol of pride.” 

The explanation seems to both excite and be a relief to the prince. 

“It is a stunning piece. You are a master craftsmen.” He admires it as you approach the door. Aegon seems to wander down the hall, having enjoyed too much drink. “Excuse me, sweet one.” Aemond moves to fetch his brother who begins to loudly bang on an occupied room. 

You can not help, but giggle at the interaction. 

You unlock the door to your own room. 

It is a bit larger than typical accommodations. It appeared that the room was left unoccupied due to the sturdier price. The innkeep had taken pity on you, a young woman separated from your group with a gray mare who shivered and shook in the thunderstorm. She had offered you the room at half cost, though you did not tell the princes that as they paid you triple for the base price of the room. 

The bed you now realizes is large enough for the three of them. You would have neither of the princes sleep on the floor, no matter how you felt about the accommodation. You realize your tools are a bit strewn about on the desk noticing the shavings of metal and small bent tools. You quickly tidy up as the princes enter with their baggages. 

You see out of the corner of your eye Aegon immediately begin to disrobe. 

Aemond scolds him quietly before blocking his brother from your view. 

“Oh come now, brother. Surely the young miss would love to take a gander on Targaryen beauty.” You can practically hear the wink he gives though Aemond is still shielding you. 

“I apologize for my brother,” Aemond says assisting his brother in removing his clothes as the young man struggles to fit his under shirt over his head. “He has had too much drink.” 

“I have not!” Aegon insists. “I can still get it up. I assure you.” He hiccups. 

You snort a laugh. Aemond looks to you as you return your tools to your bags. 

“Are you to sell your wares at the tourney?” Aemond’s voice is curious. 

Aegon flops face first into the bed. He begins to burrow under the covers as if some mole or other underground creature. 

“I am. I have several. I can also make custom jewelry for any lords and ladies who enjoy my offerings.” You open a small case that displays the rings you have created. You cushion the emerald ring back in the case. 

You can feel Aemond’s breath at your neck as you press your fingers against the velvet dark blue cushion that houses each unique ring. Aemond runs his finger over a bright large sapphire set in a gold band. It is one of your favorites as it appears that a dragon’s teeth are about to swallow the sapphire. You have fashioned a few rings for the celebration to represent various houses. Many represent House Targaryen with dragon motifs. 

“I should like to buy this one. If the lady is willing to depart from it?” His eye blinks at you. 

“Oh, I would be honored, my prince.” You remove it from the casing to retrieve a small velvet pouch your mother had sewn for clients. You offer him the ring for free, but Aemond insists on paying double for it. You try to stay his hand. 

“You should be paid for your materials and time. I see you take great care in your work. I would be most honored to wear this at the tourney and talk up your finery to the lords and ladies at court.” 

You smile thinking him the kinder of the two brothers. You thank him for his generosity before awkwardly deciding to disrobe yourself. The pair of you look away as your clothes are removed. You begin to undo your corset letting your mind wander to the bed. It had been soft when you settled in it earlier that evening. The innkeep had said she had just purchased a new mattress and new silk white sheets with gold threading. Aegon is face down in them asleep so they appear to be fit for a prince. You are in your white slip before removing it so you are bare. 

You clearly see Aegon peeking at you from his awake position though he quickly closes his eye when you catch him. You smile not minding the attention. Nobody in your village has paid this kind of attention to you before so the attention is almost a welcome. You pull a white night gown over your head settling it against your bare breasts. 

You turn to the bed but catch a glimpse of Prince Aemond. 

He is VERY well toned. Of course he is, being the prince who trains with the sword. He wears soft trousers to cover his lower half, though they hang low on his hips. His eye quickly casts downward as he gazes on you. 

He seems to be pleased with your night time appearance as well. 

“I will be in the middle. Hopefully this will stay my brother’s wandering hands from you.” Aemond states, eye still set to the floor. 

You can only nod. If you spoke you may something crude, such as you not minding should any hands wander over your body in the middle of the night. 

While no man has ever touched you in such a way it does not mean you are not without want. 

When both princes are in bed and under the covers, you decide it is your turn. You pull them back to reveal the soft mattress below. You settle hearing the rain beginning to pound louder outside. You shiver tucking yourself in. The heat of the younger dragon prince feels welcoming as you snuggle beside him turning yourself to face away from him. 

The bed looked larger when you had been looking down at it, but now it felt small. Prince Aemond turned a bit trying to get comfortable settling to curl forward against your back. You could feel small steady breaths against your neck, hot with nervous energy. 

“Is this alright? I can move, but your body is . . . quite warm. Hmmm . . .” His fingers graze your hip in a moment before pulling away. 

“Yes, you are fine this way.” 

It is the last thing you say before closing your eyes. 

You fade in and out of sleep occasionally being awakened by the storm. The thunder is loud enough to make you whimper. As you awaken with a start you are not sure if it is the thunder that startles you or the hardness against your bum. On instinct you move against it cause it to stir with movement. You hear the prince groan low. 

“I . . .apologize.” He says clearly embarrassed by his member, long and needy of attention. “I . . .” His fingers are brushing at your hip again, this time a bit more with intent. 

“It is flattering.” You decide to say after a moment in thought. “I do not mind it.” At this you feel Aemond’s hand dip lower to the soft flesh of your thigh. 

You whimper a bit too loud. 

It causes his breath to quicken. You hear him swallow hard. 

You decide to turn to face him. He lets go of your thigh immediately at your movement. You see him now. His eye is moving rapidly looking to you with a sweet desire. Your eyes focus over to the sapphire, large and round in his scarred eye socket. He leans forward halfway with his lips, testing the waters. 

You will not let Prince Aemond suffer any longer. 

You meet him halfway for the kiss. 

You do not expect Prince Aemond to be inexperienced with kissing, but he is. His movements are needy and a bit rough. You have had some stolen kisses with stable boys that you feel as if you can judge a good kiss from a bad kiss. His kiss is not bad, but it is sloppy and fast. You slow him down by softly petting his cheek. After a moment or two you fall into a rhythm that is pleasant for you both with slips of your tongue against his. The wet sound echoes in your chamber as you feel your lower half begin to stir with need and wetness.

Your hips hump against his hardness in the dark room as the storm rages around you. He moans against your kisses especially when your clothed sex rubs against the tented tip of his cock. 

“You are behaving quite unfairly, Aemond.” The younger brother nearly breaks upon hearing Aegon’s light scolding. You manage to hold his chin to your lips to steal his attention away from the other prince. “I am the elder brother. I should have her first.” 

You can feel Aegon watching as you and Aemond continue to lose yourself in sloppy kissing. You open your eyes to make contact with Aegon. He slips his hand below the sheets. You watch as it moves slightly. His eyes flutter momentarily in pleasure as he touches himself.

“I can share myself.” You do not know where your boldness comes from. It may be the storm threatening to swallow this inn whole or the idea you will never get an opportunity like this ever again. Aemond is kissing your neck as you speak too focused on his pleasure to note you are offering yourself to Aegon as well. “Come here, my prince.” 

There is no hesitation as Aegon kneels. You can see now he sleeps nude, a tuff of curled silver hairs grace the base of his girthy cock. He crawls over his brother as the pair of you shift to make room for the elder prince behind you. He grabs your hips settling his hands in a comfortable position. He kisses the back of your neck moving your hair as he focuses on your spine with little slips of his tongue. 

You can feel, he too is hard. 

The pair of lips on you sparks you with a divine energy that makes you feel like you could be finished on these sensations alone. 

“Oh, you are a loud one. You like what we are doing to you, sweet girl?” Aegon nips behind your ear in a pleased whisper. 

Aemond has made his way down between your breasts, lips leaving a soft wet trail. His fingers toy with the ties there. He looks up at you. His eye is nearly pleading with you. There is only a slight movement of your head up and down. He loosens those ties without an ounce of hesitation. 

“Yes .  . .” It is a soft sort of agreement. Aemond licks and suckles at the side of one of your breasts. “Gods, yes!” The sensation is so good it leaves you panting. Aegon laughs at your enthusiasm. 

“Well, let’s see how pleased you are.” His palm glides up your leg pulling up your night gown. He palms at your small clothes moaning at the wetness gathered there. “Oh, my dear, you are wetter than the storm outside.” He bites your neck softly. “So ready for our princely cocks. You would like that wouldn’t you? To have our cocks all nestled safe inside your tight pussy.” 

The pleasure is nearly too much. You have lost all grasp on the common tongue too entrapped in the movement of their royal tongues. You feel long slender fingers massaging against your breast. Aemond releases your breast from the confines of your top, his tongue laps at the rosen perked nipple teasing it between his lips. Aegon’s hands squeeze your hip while the other slips underneath your small clothes. 

You gasp as a finger slips inside you. 

“So very tight.” The prince nuzzles his lips to your jawline. “Are you a sweet little virgin, dear?” You can barely think to answer. 

“I . . . yes. Please.” You do not know if you are begging for more or less of them. 

“Yes? No wonder this little cunt is so tight. Let me help.” He pumps a second finger inside you which causes you to gasp in a little more painful way. The fingers drag inside you slowly. 

Aemond nearly growls in response. 

“Relax, brother. She is enjoying it. Aren’t you?” Aegon is now peppering you with kisses as he pumps his fingers inside you. 

“It hurts. A bit.” The pain is slowly subsiding as you grow used to a foreign set of fingers inside you. He curled both in unison and it makes your mind go white. You cry out loud over the thunder feeling so close to your peak. 

“Oh you want to release now, don’t you?” Slowly Aegon withdraws his fingers. “Not quite yet.” He smacks your thigh lovingly as Aemond continues to massage and play his tongue along your breasts. “My brother has only ever been with one woman. An older whore from the streets of silk. Certainly no virgin.” You feel Aemond moan into your other breast releasing it too. He lavishes sweet kisses upon the flesh before swirling his tongue around the perked nipple. “My brother should feel a virgin cunt shouldn’t he? Would you like my brother to take your maidenhead, sweet girl?” 

You would like that. 

There is nothing more you would like then to feel what both cocks would feel like inside you. 

Aemond could have his turn. 

You nod your head. 

From Aegon’s cackle you know you are too eager to get fucked. 

“Oh you are a bit naughty, aren’t you? You hear that brother? This little virgin would like you to take her maidenhead.” He ruffles with the curtain of his brother’s long silver hair which has fanned forward. 

You feel Aemond groan against your nipple tucked between his lips. Wetness and whimpers escape you. Aemond focuses his eye upward before pulling away slowly. 

“Would you like that, my lady?” His hands pet the sides of your breasts as you lay on your side. “Hmmm?” 

“Please.” 

You want it so badly

You NEED it so badly. 

The brothers assist in adjusting you so you are laid flat on your back. Aegon lays on his side, head propped on his open palm watching. He moves your hair aside so he can see your pretty face while his brother fucks you. Aemond is above you hovering. He parts your legs slowly beginning to remove your small clothes. The sensation of your pussy hitting the cool air makes you gasp a bit as the wetness makes your sensitive area feel cool. Aemond’s fingers run over your folds in a loving gesture. His eye watches you as he sinks his digit into you. Your chest heaves as a sigh escape. 

There is a playful smile on the Targaryen’s lips as he pumps and curls his finger inside you. 

Your back arches as you are drawn closer again. Your small hans grasp at the sheets. 

“Oh for Gods’ sake, Aemond. Get that cock inside her. You’re hard aren’t you?” Aegon complains with a roll of his eyes. 

You can see Aemond is uneasy. Your hand goes to his cheek as he withdraws his finger from inside you. You smile trying to let him know you want this and it is alright. He smiles in return and bends forward. As his chest crushes to your body you can feel his lips against yours, but also his long cock pressing hard to your thigh. 

He slowly a lines his cock to brush against your slit. You can feel the bulbous head at your entrance. 

“Be slow. She’s very tight.” Aegon warns. He plays with your hair as Aemond lifts from the kiss. “The tightness will make you want to fuck her hard, but stay yourself. You want to make her first time feel good, make her peak. Ease into her slowly. Do not finish too quickly despite how well her pussy squeezes you.” 

Slowly you feel Aemond push into you, a little at a time. 

You groan so loudly at the initial stretch. 

“That’s it.” Aegon is rubbing your shoulder gently. 

Aemond pushes inside a bit more slowly stretching your inner walls. You bite your lip. That detail seems to make the prince’s cock twitch inside you. Your walls flutter. Aemond curses and seems to falter, slipping in a bit further. 

“Hold it. I know she is a pretty one, but contain yourself, brother.” 

“She’s so tight, Aegon. I do not think I can hold much longer.” You feel your eyes are screwed shut trying to concentrate on the pleasant feelings and holding your own composure. 

“She’s pretty. Doesn’t she deserve a good first fuck?” You feel Aegon’s lips against your forehead. “I think you deserve this sweet virgin cunt. Be easy. Be good to her and that pussy will be good to you. She will remember your cock first before all others. She will compare you to everyone after including myself. Perhaps even on her wedding night she will think, ‘Is my lord husband’s cock as good as Aemond One-Eyed?’ ”  

Aemond continues to ease in slowly stretching you. He drags along your walls a little out then more in. Before long you feel him fully inside you. He is nearly panting from the effort as you feel his hot breath fan across your face. Finally you open your eyes. His one eye is closed as his brow is furrowed in concentration. Aegon continues to brush your hair away from your face and press his fingers to your shoulders. 

“Aemond, my prince,” You call to him as he opens his eye slowly. “Please.” Your hips move slightly. He lets out a long breath. 

He is breathing so hot now. 

His body and breath are heavy. 

He begins to move slowly in and out. 

“See? Listen to her! She loves it. You love my brother’s cock, don’t you, sweet girl?” Aegon says with a smile and a kiss to your forehead. 

You did not realize how loud you were being at this slow pace. The sensation of feeling the prince’s cock moving inside you makes sounds you never knew you could make leave your mouth. It encourages Aemond to move quicker inside you. The stretch begins to hurt as he moves faster, but the pleasure blinds out the pain. Your hands are to his lower back pressing his hips forward. 

You call out the prince’s name over and over again. The frame of the bed begins to shake as the thunder and lightning crash outside through the pounding of rain. Inside the prince is pounding you making you close to your peak. You cry out feeling your body unravel. 

“Pull out of her. Release your seed on her, not inside. Wouldn’t want any bastards.”

You barely register Aegon’s voice as several waves of pleasure roll over you. 

“Oh look at her!” Aegon calls out delighted. “She is peaking multiple times! Job well done, brother.” 

You feel Aemond’s seed warm on your thigh as he whimpers his own peak on your flesh. You are catching your breath feeling hoarse and raw in the throat. Your walls flutter slowly as the sweat beads across your breasts. You feel Aegon kiss your forehead. 

“Such a good girl. I can not wait to rut inside you.” His curved lips feel encouraging against your skin. Your chest puffs in and out as you slowly open your eyes. “Aemond, let’s clean her. There is a wash bin and cloth on the desk. Don’t worry, love. We’ll take care of you before I have my turn. Make sure you are well prepared to take me.” You see him wink. 

You see Aemond run his hand over your thigh not coated in his spend. He traces the flesh there with reverence as if soaking in the memory of feeling you. His hand lazily travels to the dips of your hips. You feel tender there and wince. 

“Did I hurt you?” You look down to see he is tracing over a small bruise, yellowed at the edges. It is in the shape of a thumb. 

“It does not hurt. Only a bit sore.” 

He nods. His lips bend down to kiss the spot. You sigh happily at the loving gesture. Aegon groans impatiently, a signal for Aemond to stand. He kisses the bruise one more time before standing. You watch his backside move across the room only lit by the flickering of lightning outside. 

“We have not had the same woman before. Aemond and I. I must say it has been quite an enjoyable experience so far. You are such a lovely little plaything for us.” Aegon shifts to move a pillow to his lap. He places your head there. “Comfortable?” You swallow and nodd. “Did my brother fuck you well?” His thumb roams over your lower lip. 

“He did.” You feel a wetness against where the drying spend rests. 

The soft rag glides across your sweat soaked skin. The water is lukewarm and pleasant. 

“I feel very well cared for. Thank you, my princes.” You look between them, up at Aegon who sweetly plays with your hair and forward at Aemond who washes and dries your body clean. There is a lovely little smirk of satisfaction on his face. 

“Tell me, Aemond. How is her cunt?” Aegon asks with a sparkle of curiosity. 

“It was . . . good.” There is a blush that creeps across his cheeks, shame or embarrassment bright on his features. 

“Just good? Come now. It is just us. Tell me. Was she tight? Did she milk your cock? What do I have to look forward to?” The elder prince nearly laughs with anticipation. 

“I . . .” He seems to struggle to find the right words. He looks into your eyes. There is still desire there. “I should like to have her again. She felt . . .divine.” His fingers tease your slit making you whimper. “Let me make her wet for you.” 

Without hesitation Aemond tossed the rag to the floor with a wet slap. He kneels, spreading your legs apart to get better access to what is between them. He bends his head to kiss your inner thigh before kissing sweetly along your slit. A small gasp erupts from your lips. The brothers laugh playfully at your reaction. Where he was sloppy with kisses on your lips, Aemond’s wet puckered kisses leave you nearly breathless here. 

“Get her nice and wet for me.” Aegon pets your head as Aemond kisses your cunt, dragging his tongue inside you. “Don’t take too long. I am eager to have her.” 

He curves his tongue as he did his fingers. The sensation makes you cry out with pleased whimpers, high and needy. You can not help yourself as you run your fingers through the Targaryen prince’s long silver mane. You try to steady your breathing so you do not sound as desperate as you feel, but it is too late. Your needy little moans of desire hit high making you wet for the prince’s cock. 

“That is enough. She is plenty wet.” Aegon shifts to remove your head from his lap. 

You call out for Aemond as his tongue flickers over your sensitive bud. 

Aegon grunts pushing at his brother’s shoulder. Aemond lifts his head as if a hound hungrily defending his food. Aegon is the alpha in this situation. He relents to his brother moving to place your head and thr pillow in his lap. Aegon is above you with a toothy grin. His thumb runs along your plump lower lip. 

“Such a needy little thing. Don’t worry, sweet girl. I’ll pleasure you even better than my brother.” 

Prince Aegon captures your lips savoring each little kiss and whimper. Slowly you feel his cock enter you. There is a small sigh that escapes your lips as you feel his girth, thicker then Prince Aemond. He stretches you more. 

“By the Gods,” His eyes flutter closed. “You have such a tight cunt. Fuck.” He chuckles pushing deeper. You feel Aemond’s hand stroke your throat as a stretch of pain washes over you as Aegon’s cock stretches you deeper. 

“It is alright. You are doing wonderful, here.” Aemond’s hand reaches to fondle with your exposed breasts. His thumb and index finger tweak your hardened nipples. It leaves you with a bit of a distraction. “Better?” 

“Mmmmm. . .” Is your only response. 

“Good.” Aemond says as he plays with each of your tits equally. 

“There we are.” Aegon bottoms out inside her. “So bloody tight.” 

He begins to move not requiring much effort to sate himself. He pushes his thumb to the bruise on your hip. You know it was not Aemond who made it, but Aegon. He is a bit rougher than his brother. You cry out a bit in pain as he gives no care to being gentle now that you have been taken kindly for your first time. He lifts your leg higher prompting him to bury his cock deeper inside you giving you deep strokes. 

“You are hurting her.” Aemond says through gritted teeth. 

“I am doing no such thing. She is enjoying a good pounding by her prince. Aren’t you now?” His own words prompt him to go faster. He grazes a spot inside you, but quickly pulls away before truly hitting it. 

Your lips quiver. Aegon jackhammers into you panting like a rabid animal. His throat releases harsh noises. You try to bring his face down to kiss you, but he is hesitant. He appears not used to kisses while he is fucking. Maybe the whores in King’s Landing are not allowed to kiss the prince. He eventually relents kissing you, which slows his pace though removes Aemond’s hands from your tits. 

“You are so sweet tasting.” He breaths in small pants between kisses. “You know that, sweet girl? Like honeyed wine and fall spices.” He nuzzles your neck as he pumps inside you in an easy rhythm. “Mmmm . . . so sweet.” 

You feel his cock twitch within you indicating he is close to spilling his seed. However you do not feel your peak approaching. Everytime you are about to reach a desirable peak or spot inside you he seems to deviate to his own pleasure. He lifts from your neck and face, a hand on either side of you as he snaps his hips wildly cursing. Aemond reaches downward to your sex. 

“What are you -?” 

“It will feel better if she peaks.” Aemond’s finger moves to tease the small bud in your folds. “This is her bud. The madame showed me. Stroking her here,” You make a noise that is a mix of a sigh and a moan. “Is as if you were teasing the tip of your cock. It’s sensitive. Pleasureable.” Aegon moves his thumb over the bud. He presses too hard causing you pain. “No, stroke. Gentle. Yes. Listen to her.” Aegon alters the movement stroking you gently before licking his thumb and slipping it over your bud. 

Your voice groans at the sensation. Even the pounding of his hips does not dissuade you from the pleasure you receive from the stroking of your bud. You whimper as he gasps. 

“Fuckin’ vice on my cock! Gods!” He cries out. 

Aegon waits until the final moment to pull his cock free. He ignores your bud for the moment to spill himself on the sheets. Aemond replaces his brother’s thumb stroking you until your walls flutter leaking your arousal on his fingers. He brings them to his mouth tasting you. 

“Hmmmm . . .” Aemond hums against his fingers. 

The elder prince pants before turning those pants into laughter. He is knelt on the bed holding his softened cock in his hand. His brother is licking his fingers of your arousal as you are laid out satisfied. 

“No regrets on your part I see.” Aegon chuckles. “But . . .” He looks between you and Aemond. “It would be a grand thing if we could get both of our cocks inside your holes.” Aegon reaches to rub his thumb along your lower lip again. You kiss it softly. “Here.” His other hand strokes your center, remembering exactly where that bud is. “And here.” 

“Aegon . . .” Aemond says it as if a warning. 

“I would like that.” You say looking at Aemond first. His eye is wide. “I am not tired. I want to feel more.” You palm at Aemond’s thigh. Your fingers tease the side of his cock. 

You know you will remember this moment for the rest of your days. Someday you will be wed. Someday you will have babes at your breast instead of needy princes. You want to take as much pleasure from them as they do from you, savor the passion of this moment even as the wind howls and the storm rages. 

You kiss the tip of Aemond’s cock. He hisses, though the sound is not unpleasant. Aegon moves to sit on the other side of your face. You feel the tip of his cock trace your neck. Your tongue swirls around Aemond’s tip on instinct . He guides your mouth further down on his cock while instructing you to take what you can not fit in your hand and stroke it. You do as instructed, feeling him graze your cheek as his cock grows larger inside your mouth. 

“How is her mouth?” Aegon is nearly humming with excitement beside you. 

“Exquisite.” Aemond says maintaining his composure. 

Your tongue flickers at the underside of his cock as you take him further into your mouth. He is gentle with his instructions, kind when telling you what he desires from you. He tells you to hollow your cheeks. When you do he moans much louder then he did when he was fucking you. You are glad you can give him pleasure simply with your mouth and tongue. 

“Let him fill your mouth then I will as well.” Aegon teases in your ear.

You feel a little uneasy at the thought. You can taste salty remnants of Aemond against your tongue. Aemond seems to see how uneasy you have grown. He pulls you from his cock with a pop. His thumb runs across your bottom lip gathering his essence to rub it further into your mouth. You suckle his thumb looking into his eye. 

“Hmmm.” He looks to you slowly blinking. “I think you want my cock inside your cunt again. Don’t you, sweet one?” You swallow whatever salty essence he has released in your mouth, not much but enough to know what he tastes like, an aftertaste of sweet fruit. 

You hum approval. 

“Alright, fuck her cunt. I’ll take that mouth of hers. It sounds as if it is better than her cunt by how pleased you seemed, brother.” You feel Aegon pull your mouth toward him. 

Without hesitation he pries your mouth open. 

“Careful.” Aemond is hissing again. “Be gentle with her.”

“What if she wants a bit of roughness?” You feel Aegon pump two fingers into your mouth. You suckle tasting bits of cheese under his nails. The corners of your mouth seep drool. “Oh good girl. She’s drooling over the thought of sucking my cock. Let me hear it from your mouth then, sweet girl. What do you desire?” 

You have never been asked such a question in your life. 

The thunder crackles shaking the room. You are looking into one prince’s eyes before looking into the eye of the other prince. 

What is it you desire? 

You were practically forced into your current line of work. A family trade is tradition and should be treated as such. You love your work now, but were never given the opportunity to try anything else.

You will not have a say in your husband. 

You will not have a say in your friends. 

Your free time has never been your own. 

Yet here, in the darkness of night, in a storm that rages outside you are asked such a question from the least likely of people. 

“The crown demands to know your true desires.” Aegon seems sweeter now removing his fingers from your lips. The wet fingers stroke from your temple to your cheek catching some of your sweat stained hair. 

In the storm you awaken your true desires. 

“I want to be touched. Worshipped. I want to feel you both inside me. It does not matter where, but yes, I should think a gentle embrace is what I would like most.” Your eyes flutter with a mixture of innocence and pure lust. 

“Well then, I will remain gentle. But I may lose control. Tap my leg thrice if my cock is too rough, my lady. I do not wish you pain, only pleasure. For tonight you are the one we shall worship.” He bends down, giving you a sweet kiss on the temple. 

Aemond slowly begins to remove your night dress so you are bare before the two princes. It does not feel like exposure, but instead it feels as though you have truly given yourself to the moment, to this place in time, to your lovers. In that moment the prince titles fade from your mind. 

All three of you only want to make each other feel good. 

“You are so soft.” Aemond says. 

His lips are trailing down your body, between the valley of your breasts, at your soft belly, and then to your thighs. You can feel how soft you are in each spot as he travels. Aegon slowly rubs his fingers over your lips letting you kiss him before his cock, hard and ready rubs across your lips too. You open your mouth taking the thick cock. 

As you suck on Aegon’s cock, Aemond slowly inserts himself inside your cunt. 

“By the Gods, your mouth . . .” He groans almost as loud as his brother did. 

You are glad you are making him feel this way. Each brother has a hand on one of your tits. Slowly their rhythms seem to match thrusting into each of your wet holes in unison. You tap Aegon’s leg thrice when you find it difficult to breath. He does seem to care about your comfort as does Aemond who has gently folded your thighs upward as he strokes his cock inside you. 

The gentleness of it all makes time seem never ending. 

It is fine by you. You are feeling elated in this moment. 

Enjoying yourself perhaps too much. 

“I am close.”

“As am I.” 

“Are you close, darling?” 

You do not know who’s voice is who’s in that moment. You simply hum around Aegon’s cock before he can pull out. 

“I want to fuck your mouth a little rougher. Would that be alright with you?” Aegon blinks softly. 

It is hard to deny him, but also you feel your pussy twitch at the suggestion. You nod. 

“Mmmm. . . her cunt twitched at the suggestion. She’s so fuckin’ close.” You hear in Aemond’s voice he is ready to spill himself. 

You wonder if both of them will spill inside you. 

Hands fit against the back of your head as Aegon gently guides your mouth over his cock. Your jaw is beginning to hurt from holding open for so long, but you want to feel good as well. A small price to pay, you suppose. Aegon’s cock begins to go deeper inside your mouth before thrusting faster. You feel spittle gather at the corners as you hear your hollow chokes begin. Those sounds seem to spurn Aemond on. 

His thrusts are deeper as well inside your cunt, which is well stretched at this point. He is muttering curses as his fingernails make half moons on your thighs. All you hear is the men’s moans as they reach their peak as you choke and gasp around Aegon’s cock. 

“Swallow all of it.” You feel it hit the back of your throat. You choke and slurp it back into your mouth. He is saltier then Aemond and there is much of his spend. You lick your lips when Aegon pulls from your mouth. 

Aemond pounds viciously into you. 

Your pussy twitches as you feel your eyes go white for a moment in your peak. 

He is growing soft inside you collapsed. 

“Naughty Aemond.” Aegon scolds. “Spilled his seed inside. Don’t worry. We can prepare some moon tea in the morning. Make sure no bastards grow in this cute little belly.” Aegon leans down and kisses your stomach. 

Aemond rolls to his back panting. 

“You enjoy her, brother? Tight cunt is much better then the cunt of an old whore.” Aegon nearly laughs. “And you my dear, how was your first time? Hmmm . . . you feel thoroughly worshipped by your princes?” 

“Yes. I do.” You are nearly panting as well. 

You will be sore in the morning, but the pleasure was worth every ache and pain. 

“Perhaps when you are in King’s Landing we’ll have you again. It is my name day after all.” Aegon lays beside you his hands under his head watching you breath and your eyes lazily begin to close before opening to look at him. “We wore you out. Didn’t we?” He runs his hand over your lips once more. 

“Yes, my prince.” 

It is then you turn to Aemond. He is looking at you in a similar position to Aegon, but on your other side. He reaches forward to kiss your lips, moaning against them. He presses himself to you. On instinct you wrap your arms around him to cuddle him and stroke his hair. It is in this moment when he is nestled between your breasts and suckling comfortably at your skin you think this is typical for him after sex. Aegon hugs your waist from behind. 

“Such a beautiful night.” Aegon mumbles into your hair. “Such a strange and beautiful stormy night.” 

One the three of you will never forget. 

[delight-angelsbliss]

Don't you notice how I get quiet when there's no one else around?

Heh I wanted to post this sooner but here we are

welcome to my February valentines special that will go on for the full duration of February!!

You may choose a prompt and Character from my list and request<3 this is actually my first ever special/event I'm doing lol S1 prompts from 1 - 11 are by @/novelbear they're really cool and have amazing prompts (^-^) there also inconsistent small and large texts so it's actually readable cuz it gets cut off sometimes lol!! I'd also recommend that when requesting u say which Season ur prompt is from for example "S1 nr 4 with ___" u can also request up to 3 prompts in one! I'll try my best to use it all<3 everything can be requested as platonic!! Edit: can you guys please specify gender and if it should be hcs or not? As much information as possible would be nice and helps alot

S1 Cute scenarios<3

Spending all day watching cute crafts and baking to do

Rom com marathon!!

Trying (and maybe) failing to make food heart shaped

Realizing you both have contrasting views on valentines

"Baby, I love you, really, but if I eat one more piece of chocolate I'll throw up"

Making the same reservations at the same time but different restaurants and/or the same one

"I thought you'd at least ask me to be my valentines" "we've been together for years, I thought that was a given"

Both not caring much abt valentines but get dragged to a double date by friends

"How much did this cost?" "Does that really matter?"

Spending the night walking through the city silently

Begging your partner to get matching sweaters until they say yes

Buying couple shirts and deciding the whole day which one to wear that u completely forgot ur date

Not leaving bed at all

Going to the carnival

Double dates

Confessing with a love letter

first kiss together on your first valentines

getting proposed on valentines

Picking grapes together

Making heart cake pops and eating them but they fall down

"I think I deserve a kiss"

"You didn't have to do all of this!" "Yeah, which is why I did it for you"

"I wish everyday could be like this"

"Is it just me or do your lips look softer than usual?"

"We don't have to go out"

"I can never get enough of of how pretty you look"

Ordering in and watching crime action series

"You remembered?" "Of course I did, I love you"

Trying to do pilates together only to fail miserably

Writing a love letter only to throw it away but they find it

S2 Yandere scenarios!:

"I just got some very wise advice from a wise woman..." U can ask more abt this btw and I'll explain a bit more what I mean with this

"Gosh, you smell so good when we cuddle like this"

"Do you think I enjoy punishing you?! I don't!"

"Tell me how much you love me"

"I'm jealous of the way you are happy with them but not me"

"This world is a ugly place, you're too beautiful for it"

"I know I'm sick in the head, but you'll be my cure"

"I love it when we're so close together like this"

"Of course I'm jealous! You're mine, not theirs!"

"Dont you get it? I would die for you if you asked me to"

"Your skin is so soft"

"I just love the last souvenir of your eye so much that I'd like the other one please"

"I could kill you if I wanted to"

"I live for you, you're like my oxygen"

"If you run, I'll break your legs"

જ⁀➴ ♡ Matchups

I actually do match ups which isn't really known cuz it's in my rules and dni lol but I do make matchups in case anyone wants one<3 this was added on 20:37 on 4th of February which is a bit later than this was posted

For a match up I need as much information as possible it's also allowed in a platonic form

If there's a preferred age range and gender

Hobbies

Likes

Dislikes

Special interests

And more would be needed (^-^)

[crescenthistory]

Hi sweetest angel❤️it's me again although I already asked for the interpret of your 2k event and I LOVED SO MUCH❗️❗️...maybe can I ask for an Argue too? 🥺

I was going through your event and when I saw the List B and my eyes landed on the prompt 4 Coffee Shop AU I instantly thought of Regulus🤷‍♀️How could anyone blame me?? I love everything you write and if is for Regulus I'm down bad🤭

Anyway congratulations once again my angel❤️You deserve and I'm sure you'll achieve even more cause you just write works of art❗️❗️ I love you so much big hugs❤️

you could probably ask me for anything and i'd give it to ya di — regulus coffee shop au coming right up <33 a bit of a unique take on it, but still

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will ARGUE for prompt 4 "coffee shop au" with regulus black

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: fem!reader, non-compliant wizarding war, (implied) exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, making up post-war, open ending

wc: 1.1k

If you had told Regulus Black five years ago that he would be working in a muggle coffee shop on the outskirts of Edinburgh, he would have scoffed in your face.

Had you told him ten years ago, he might have burst into tears.

Today, though, all he felt about it was a monotone neutrality about this new reality of his, in addition to a little ache in his heels from standing upright eight hours a day five days a week.

A nagging voice in the back of his head kept murmuring about how that pain is the least of what he can shoulder, but he tried to push it away – not out of disagreement, but exhaustion. Carrying guilt tires out your bones and Regulus must admit his had already been weary. After the stunt him and his friends pulled with the horcruxes, they were lucky to be alive in the first place. Not to mention to be free, at least as far as the Ministry was concerned.

Though for the time being, his elusive group of reformed purebloods turned war heroes were scattered all over the country as top notch aurors – regretfully including his brother and his brother's friends – hunted down the last of the loyalists. Barty and Evan refused to be separated and were somewhere near Bath, a choice they made during their very last night together when the friends all got wine drunk and reminisced about their various heists over the past few months. Their sole reasoning was that Bath was a "funny sounding name" and "Bath sounds like Barty trying to say his name after getting his teeth kicked in". Pandora was supposed to be in Wales, but Regulus had a sneaking suspicion she had snuck off to France instead to be with Xeno. Dorcas had simply been unable to separate from Marlene after the war, so the two were happily engaged and hiding in one of the many Potter properties.

Moody – who Regulus still refused to admit he was intimidated by – had stressed that it's not hiding, it's just waiting the storm out.

In his apron and with his hair pulled up with a small silver claw clip, Regulus surely felt as though he was hiding.

The long queue of customers felt like it was only growing, all the 9-5 employees from the various office buildings around his coffee shop relying solely on Regulus for their morning fix before their first meetings. He was mixing and pouring and adding and shaking all the while the minutes ticked away. 

Regulus never let his mind drift when he worked like this. Instead he kept it in check between focusing on the tasks and tuning out all the noise. If he started thinking, he might begin wishing and once he began wishing he would never stop.

More than anything, if he began wishing, a longing would fester itself in his chest, a longing he managed to quelch during his horcrux heists and thus had no business reasserting itself in his life. A longing for a certain witch he managed to not be able to say goodbye to twice – once before embarking on the months-long endeavour and now before running off to wait the storm out.

This last time, he might have been able to say goodbye first. Before the horcruxes it was too dangerous, but now… now he could have waited. If he had tried, Regulus was certain he would have been able to.

Yet, here he was. Without a goodbye and with a pocketful of regret and cowardice. 

He shook his head, cursing beneath his breath as a few strands of his hair fell in his face at the movement, as he tried to get the thoughts out of his head. Focus on the work, he kept telling himself. Turn it all off. He used to be so good at it, but apparently having a “redemption arc” as Barty kept cheerfully calling it, had made compartmentalisation a bit tougher. 

Regulus never half-assed anything, not even a temporary barista position he had no intended future within, so it saw the queue dwindling fast despite him being the only one on shift today. 

As he neared the last customer of the first rush hour, Regulus had to take a quick break to fix his hair. He shucked off his gloves to put his hair back up, stubborn strands refusing to stay put. While mid-movement, he turned around to the counter, plastering on his most neutral and polite customer-service smile.

“Good morning, what can I get you?”

As his eyes landed on his customer, Regulus’ entire body froze. Arms in the air, polite smile still on his lips. The only part of him that moved was his eyes blinking rapidly as they widened.

“Good morning. I’d like to order an apology or two and then maybe a hug, depending on the flavour.” You matched his customer service tone of voice, but you had him pinned beneath your gaze.

Stood before him, was the very witch he had banished from his train of thought earlier, every day, that still somehow managed to sneak on. Except you were very much not a thought as you leaned against the counter, arms crossed defiantly over your chest and an expectant brow raised at him. 

“Amour,” Regulus breathed out. It was a word he hadn’t said aloud since before the war.

“Hi, Regulus.” Your gaze softened and he could see the sadness beneath it. “What are you doing here?”

He let his hair go as his arms fell down to his sides, looking around to ensure there were no more customers waiting. “I could ask you the same question. How did you find me? I’m supposed to be in hiding.”

If you were offended by his questioning in place of greeting, you didn’t let it show, which he was grateful for. There were a hundred thoughts rushing through his head at the minute and the sound of the creamer didn’t make it any easier to sort through them. 

“I had a word or two with Moody.” You shrugged your right shoulder as if it was no big deal. “Explained that he had no business hiding you from the wrath of your girlfriend, only the loyalists.”

Regulus’ lip quivered a little at that word, and you seemed to catch it because your entire demeanour softened this time. “Girlfriend?” he asked quietly.

“Supposedly,” you amended, but you gave him a small smile. “If I could get that apology I ordered. And maybe a coffee to talk it over.”

Regulus’ eyes were wet and his face twitching as he began losing control over it, but he nodded emphatically. “There’s heaps of both apologies and coffee here.” His attempt at lightheartedness. “I would be happy to serve you.”

Your expression matched what he was sure his looked like – pained and hopeful, bittersweet and in love. “Then I think a chat’s long overdue.”

[firstkanaphans]

You were the person that pointed out that THKs screenwriters were the ones from pit babe and now we have a brainwash-y parent whose abused kids are slowly waking up from their abuse to see the real villain in THK and I just wanted to know if you had any thoughts on the topic? like pit babe and the heartkillers and their narratives etc

You know, it's really hard to say because I'm not sure how much of the script was already written by Jojo before he passed it along to Change's writing team to finish up. My assumption is that Jojo gave them a pretty detailed outline and then they wrote the script from that. First said during Live House yesterday that Jojo tends to add a lot to the script on the day of filming so I'm assuming he just kind of tweaks their work to his liking as they go along.

Basically, I'm just not sure how much autonomy these writers had over the THK script whereas they're the only ones credited on Pit Babe. I do think we can thank them for the fantastic dialogue, though, and there are also some similar overarching themes between the two shows such as the evil parent getting their comeuppance and the central conflict being external to the relationship rather than internal, which I love.

One thing I've always been kind of curious about is how much of a screenwriter's previous works bleed into their current projects—especially in a small industry like Thai QL where some of these screenwriters are writing five or six scripts a year. While Peaceful property was airing, those screenwriters talked about how difficult it was to write for Peach and Home because they were the same team that wrote Cherry Magic and they still had Karan and Achi in their heads. I wouldn't be surprised at all if, on some level, THK was Pit Babe fanfic to them. (Style as Alan, Fadel as Jeff, Bison as Charlie, Kant as Babe. Do you see my vision???)

I really do adore this team of writers, though. In addition to Pit Babe, they wrote This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans, Dead Friend Forever, Be My Favorite, and are currently working on Petrichor. They're very talented and I hope they keep working for Change because I think they really thrive with plots that allow them to be a bit more sensual.

[not-magdi]

-a deal's a deal / ben shelton

Warnings: none just pure fluff :)

Words : 937

Reading Time: 4 min 41sec

A/N My first time writing fo Ben Shelton!You are very welcome to request something ! Hope you enjoy it love y'all Magdi<3

Ben let out a deep sigh as he settled onto the massage table, his muscles aching from his three-set battle earlier that day. His shirt was off, his back glistening slightly with sweat, and he was already melting into the firm padding beneath him before Y/N had even laid a hand on him.

Y/N, standing beside him in her navy-blue physio uniform, rolled her eyes as she squeezed a bit of massage oil into her hands. “You act like I’m about to fix all your problems,” she teased.

Ben turned his head slightly, flashing her a lazy grin. “You usually do.”

She scoffed but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at her lips. “Flattery isn’t going to get you anywhere, Shelton.”

He smirked. “You say that, and yet here you are, touching me.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh and pressed her thumbs into his upper back, starting to work out the knots in his shoulders. “That’s my job,” she reminded him.

Ben hummed, his voice slightly muffled against the table. “Mhm. Still doesn’t change the fact that you like it.”

Y/N shook her head, ignoring him as she worked her way down his back. They’d had this same playful banter for months now—ever since she’d been assigned as one of the ATP physios at his tournaments. At first, she’d assumed his constant flirting was just part of his personality. Ben was naturally charismatic, always cracking jokes, always keeping things lighthearted.

But lately… she wasn’t so sure.

Ben wasn’t just throwing out compliments for the fun of it anymore. He was looking at her differently, holding eye contact just a little too long, finding excuses to talk to her even when he didn’t need a physio session. And the way he was acting now—completely at ease under her touch, grinning even through the discomfort of the massage—made her suspicious.

“You know,” Ben said after a few moments, “we really should hang out outside of these sessions.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You mean outside of me fixing your body after you destroy it every match?”

“Exactly,” Ben said, his voice dripping with amusement. “I was thinking more along the lines of dinner.”

She stilled her hands for just a second before continuing her movements. “Ben…”

He immediately picked up on her hesitation. “What?”

Y/N sighed, pressing a bit harder into a particularly stubborn knot. Ben let out a quiet groan at the pressure, and for a second, she thought about pretending she hadn’t heard his question.

But Ben was persistent. Always had been.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she finally said. “It’s not exactly professional.”

Ben scoffed, turning his head so he could look at her from the side. “Oh, come on. It’s not like you’re my full-time physio. Just one date.”

Y/N shook her head. “I don’t know…”

Ben propped himself up slightly on his elbows, ignoring the way his muscles protested. “Alright, then let’s make it interesting.”

She gave him a suspicious look. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

Ben smirked. “If I win this tournament, you have to go on a date with me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “And if you don’t win?”

“I’ll stop asking.” He shrugged. “Promise.”

She exhaled, debating for a moment. The chances of him winning the whole thing weren’t impossible, but they also weren’t guaranteed. It was a stacked draw, and anything could happen.

“…Fine,” she relented. “If you win, I’ll go on one date with you.”

Ben grinned. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

—

Y/N should have known better.

She should have known that Ben would take this bet personally.

She had watched from the sidelines as he steamrolled through his next opponents, his confidence only growing with each match. And when he stepped onto the court for the final, there was a determination in his eyes that she had never seen before.

Now, as she stood among the crowd, watching him lift the trophy above his head with a victorious grin, she felt an odd mix of emotions. Pride, amusement, and—if she was being completely honest—dread.

Because she had lost the bet.

And Ben was never going to let her forget it.

—

She had barely made it back to the physio room before she heard footsteps behind her.

“Don’t even start,” she said without turning around.

Ben’s laughter filled the room. “What? I’m just here to check when you are free for our date.”

Y/N sighed dramatically, finally facing him. His face was still slightly flushed from the match, his trophy tucked under one arm, and in his other hand—much to her surprise—was a small gift bag.

She eyed it suspiciously. “What is that?”

Ben smirked, handing it to her. “Just a little something from the city. Thought I’d soften you up before I tell you when and where we’re going.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but took the bag, pulling out a delicate bracelet with a small tennis racket charm on it.

She stared at it, momentarily caught off guard. “Ben…”

“You like it?” he asked, his voice softer now.

She nodded, unable to fight the small smile forming on her lips. “Yeah. I do.”

Ben’s grin widened. “Good. Then you’ll love the restaurant I picked out for our date.”

Y/N let out a laugh, shaking her head. “You really don’t give up, do you?”

Ben tilted his head, his expression completely serious for once. “Not when it’s something I actually want.”

She met his gaze, her heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his voice.

“…Alright,” she finally said. “A deal’s a deal.”

Ben’s face lit up. “Damn right it is.”

-----

Don't forget to leave a note if ypu enjoyed it, feedback is always welcome !❤️

[dcdreamblog]

Do you think David Bowie was inspired by the Starman legacy when he wrote the song?

Ha, no but that would have been fun. Actually Bowie was rather clear as to his inspirations and as much as I love the Superman edits around the song that have cropped up in the last few years that wasn't the inspiration either.

(A photo portrait taken of the Martian Manhunter at Bowie's behest) See, Bowie was a fan of the Martian Manhunter, certainly the highest profile fan of him and based a lot of his writing around the Ziggy Stardust character on J'onzz. Bowie said that the Manhunter's palpable isolation and sadness was juxtaposed with an inspiring honor and goodness that was important to him. The Manhunter doesn't get the credit he honestly deserves from most of us. While him losing his entire world is similar to the story of Superman, we all know that Superman was an infant when Krypton was lost. J'onn J'onzz was well into what would have been considered Martian middle age, married and with two children, established in his occupation and community when his planet was lost. Despite that, when he was spirited to Earth by an accident of fate he did his best to acclimate to this new world, taking multiple guises over the course of decades in order to not rouse suspicion that he was a man from beyond the stars, especially considering the way the our pop culture was obsessed with the idea of violent alien invaders during the time when he was originally introducing himself to our culture. It wasn't until the appearance of Superman and the beginning of the second heroic age (on top of being inspired to live open and notoriously because of the tragic apathy that lead to the deaths of his friends and partners in the Justice Experience) that J'onzz unveiled himself to the world as the defender of Denver, Colorado and its surrounding environs. The reaction he got at first was...mixed. While Superman was met with a small amount of distrust to his alien origins, the Manhunter is obviously much more visibly alien (and even then his superheroic persona is crafted via his shapeshifting, his true Martian form is even more inhuman.) However, slowly, and through his insistence on helping people despite his own fears of rejection or violence he became a beloved fixture of Denver and the trusted backbone of the Justice League, which is around the time that his story would have been inspiration for Bowie. Ever since then the Manhunter's popularity has only grown, he's been measured as the most popular superhero by far within the southern hemisphere because many people from the global south identify with him and read into him as some manner of person of color (though J'onzz has of course stated that identifying him with any human racial characteristics is a bit absurd, especially as he has reminded is that human races from his perspective are very hard to tell apart) Those of you who used to be on Twitter, or just on the general superhero internet in February probably know the popular hashtag #MartianManhunterCanSayIt where African Americans tongue in cheek claim the Manhunter as one of their own to which he has accepted their acclaim with equal good humor. I think there's even a video on the League's socials somewhere from a few years back of Black Lightning presenting the Manhunter with a hand crafted "N-Word Pass" on card stock. The face the ever polite and patient Manhunter makes when he gets the joke is priceless.

[blondielockscherry]

bunny!reader x loser rafe… ^ྀི

mdni 💗 my first time writing..

bunny aka you was the most popular girl in school with every boy obsessed with her. it wasn’t uncommon for you to have girls hate you , it was pure jealousy because in everyones eyes bunny did no wrong her big doe eyes sold you as innocent and pretty. your pretty pink, frilly babydoll dresses made her look easy and approachable but you was different. bunny had a sharp tongue and a attitude your standers where very much high.

it was chemistry class bunny’s weak subject all what the teacher said felt nonsense to you it came in one ear and out the other. you sat in the class with your small little pink dress on overdressed for the low budget high school but you didn’t care. you sat on the table confused, chin resting on your hand. to your oblivion sat just a few seats across her a pathetic virgin called rafe cameron was cumming in his pants to the sight of you. he stared at your perfect lips and pretty perky tits he would just do anything even touch your hair. he kept around a little sample of you staple expensive perfume just to even know what you smelt like. it was more than just a crush more of a obsession.

you chewed on the end of her pencil as rafe watched her from afar he licked his lips nervously as his cock throbbed through his shorts. the way you lips parted around the pencil was driving him crazy. it took a whole lot of courage for rafe to finally speak to her after his pervvy obsession since 8th grade. he had just bought his new glasses yesterday. they where round and sleek but he felt happy and confident. confident enough to speak to the most popular girl ever.

as bunny was assigned to give out the test papers. as you walked around the room rafe was beyond nervous. he slid up his sleek glasses up his nose adjusting them. rafe gulped hard as you approached his desk, your perfume intoxicating. you places the perfectly graded paper on his desk.

“hm A+? smart.” you say to yourself not expecting a response. rafe felt his cheeks flush bright red, stammering incoherently as he clutched the test sheet to his chest. "Uh... thanks... I... I just studied really hard..." His eyes flickered down to her lips briefly before darting back up to meet her gaze.

“yeah.” was your reply. you didn’t expect or take his stutters and sentence to heart your reply was just a shrug off. you didn’t really notice rafe much in class he didn’t speak but he definitely worked hard.

“i kinda just study a lot i like it.” he says smiling softly at her. god he was just pathetic really embarrassing him self in front of her.

“no shit sherlock” was your reply. he giggled softly before taking a drink from his water bottle. she didn’t expect another reply to him. “do you need help.” he just blurted it out. he needed to keep the conversation going he couldn’t stop with the attention he was getting from her.

“with?” was your dumb reply, obviously you knew it was with school. rafes heart raced as he tried to think of something, anything, he could ask her for help with. "Um, with... with anything, I guess. Just... just sit with me for a bit?" He bit his lip, hoping she wouldn't say no. you looked down at him. he was lowkey hot, big biceps, nice eyes, but 10 pound of gel in his hair but he was none the less. but god how pathetic he was pulled you in. he wanted you to sit with him for bit? the thought made you giggle but how could you decline? flirting with boys was your job.

“why not.” you sighed before flipping your perfect shiny hair and sitting down next to the absolute loser. you was doing anything to make this boring class go any faster. “so what do you like to do?” rafes words sounded genuine like he actually wanted to know.

“party i guess” your tone was monologue, it wasn’t a lie you liked to party and drink and flirt.

"Parties? With your friends?" He nodded, trying to picture it. "I've never really been to a party before... I mean, I've heard about them, but..." He trailed off, his gaze drifting back to the sketch. he stopped himself before he could ask if he could come he didn’t want to anyway he knew he would be bullied. in all honestly bunny wasn’t fully even listening to what this nerd had to say.

"Do you, um... drink?" Jesus, what was he doing? Trying to seem cool? “I mean, not that you should or anything..." He could feel his palms getting sweaty.

“yea i drink and god your soo fucking pathetic stupid virgin loser!” he was so pathetic it pissed you the fuck off. how could anyone be so anti social and weird it made bunny wet. as. fuck.

rafes heart stopped at her words, face burning with shame and humiliation. He felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them back. "I-I'm not a virgin!" He lied desperately, voice cracking.

“don’t be silly… uh..” you trailed off.

“rafe” he corrected, wiping away tears that didn’t fall yet.

“don’t be silly rafe! your cleary a virgin you hasn’t had there dick sucked but i can change that.. for you let me help you…” your voice was seductive.

Rafe's eyes bugged out in shock at her crude offer, his brain short-circuiting.“W-what? You'd... you'd do that for me?" He licked his suddenly dry lips, heart pounding wildly. "I mean, y-yeah, sure. I'd like that” he says wiping away his tears once again. you didn’t always suck random boys dicks from your school but rafe was different he needed this bad and he was so far from sex you almost felt bad for the boy.

“yeah i’ll do it cuz i feel bad for a weirdo like you now what’s your instagram or snap?” you didn’t want his number, only something you could erase and block easy after.

“i don’t have social media.” he said looking down at his feet. typical. his voice was a low whisper scared she would take back her offer.

“I just... I don't really see the point. I'm not really the social type, you know i’m not aloud it too” he fumbled for his phone, pulling up his contacts screen to find his number. "Here, just text me and we can, uh, arrange something.” at this point you prayed his dick was big you watched has he wrote down his digits on a small piece of paper for you to text and call later. luckily, the bell rung as you walked out of the boring class you felt embarrassed for talking with rafe. was there any point in even texting him after this?

my first time writing should i do pt2 it’s poorly written cuz it’s 7am all nighter loll

[ahyperactivehero]

☢☢☢

(hello there friend! since you were the only one so far to request a fallout snippet you get a bit of a longer one!)

X

Edwin tried to run, but Simon and his friends were faster. Hands gripped him– his arms, his shoulders, even his legs as they lifted him up, up, up. He could hear them cackling, a crazed, keyed-up laugh that he could only associate with young boys being as cruel as they could be.

A door whooshed open, compressed air filling Edwin’s ears for a moment before he was airborne. His flight came to an abrupt end as he slammed into the ground, the metal flooring biting into his elbows and knees.

With another whoosh the door closed, locking him in. 

“This isn’t funny!” Edwin said, immediately racing for the door. He banged his fists against the solid metal as he stared at Simon through the tiny window. It was barely bigger than his face. “Let me out!” They were all going to be in very serious trouble if anyone found them fooling around like this.

His cruel smile only grew as Simon waved, clearly intent on leaving him here.

Edwin didn’t even know where here was. It was clearly some sort of holding cell, although what RobCo Industries needed with a holding cell he was unsure. 

Then again, they had been partnering more and more with the military. That was part of the reason he and Simon’s families had been invited to tour the facility in the first place. Military and money, that was all it took for RobCo to open their doors. Who cared if it was British money, they could be allies as long as they were willing to shell out.

“Simon,” Edwin said, pleading for him one last time. 

For a moment, Edwin thought he might open the door. A sympathetic look came over his face, one that was quickly replaced when a group of scientists started to approach.

“What are you boys doing down here?” a man asked, his voice scratchy and angry. 

Their excuses came out in a splutter of sorry and we’ll go now. Unescorted guests should cause a full lock down, the whole place should shutter itself tight until they figured out who and where the boys had come from.

It would seem the man was merciful. 

“Get out of my sight,” he said and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. Edwin’s peers practically tripped over themselves in their haste to get away.

Edwin froze as the man turned towards him and checked out his clipboard. “Get the prisoner ready for surgery,” he said to the Mr. Handy floating next to him. “We’re already behind schedule.”

Prisoner? 

The Mr. Handy moved towards Edwin’s cell, its floating limbs twisting and rotating until a needle was selected and ready. It gave a small test squirt, some sort of liquid spraying out from it as it approached his door.

“Wait, please,” Edwin said. “I am not a prisoner. I’m not!” He backed away from the door, as if that might stop either one of them from getting any closer. “You have the wrong person!”

The door opened and the Mr. Handy filled the entryway. He thought about making a run for it, but he hadn’t even been able to outrun Simon. What hope did he have against this robot assistant?

The man sighed and folded his arms behind his. Sa’al was printed on his nametag and Edwin wondered if that was his real name or if it were a misprint. “That’s what they all say, kid. Sorry.”

X

Make Me Write Game

[qwordavoider]

Parting Waves

Chapter 8 is up! It is almost 9,000 words. Yet Chapter 9 is taking me like 10 years to write, so I am hoping something inspires me soon. I will definitely be posting more of More Important Than Blood in the near future to give myself time to figure out Chapter 9.

Straightening the finishing touches of his dress uniform, Tommy found himself wondering who from the 118 was all going to be at the hearings. Based on the examples that Evan had provided to the Chief, it was a safe bet that Eddie and Howie would be there. Plus Bobby is the focus of this investigation so he would naturally have to be there. He was willing to bet that Hen would show up as moral support if she hadn’t also been called to testify. 

He knew that the entire Leo team planned to be there even though they hadn’t all been called to testify. Tommy got a little emotional at how much the team had grown closer over the last couple of years since he had joined. The Leo team had turned into a family in many ways. But one of the many things that he admired about Captain Kato was that she always stressed that they were in a professional work environment. No matter how their personal relationships grew, with her or among the crew members, she emphasized her decisions would remain as unbiased as possible and follow policy. It was a testament to her leadership that she stuck to it even as Melton’s kids started calling the crew members' aunt and uncle. Or when Alex had started bringing Cat Benatar by for some comfort after hard calls. 

Tommy had felt something start to shift in the 118 in the final months before he transferred. He knew Bobby was trying and create a welcoming environment. But it seems his former captain had struggled to create boundaries to protect himself and the 118 from the very situations they were being called to testify about. He knows that Evan wants to one day return to the 118 but, for his sake, he hopes the 118 figures all of this out before he decides to go back. 

Speaking of Evan, he needed to leave now if he was going to pick him up and still get downtown to headquarters in time for the start of their testimony. Tommy once again found himself outside Evan’s apartment door. Not long after he knocked, the door swung open to reveal Evan in his dress blues. 

Tommy wasn’t even ashamed to admit that he gaped a bit as he scanned Evan’s uniform. He pulled off the formal wear, very well. Tommy didn’t fail to notice that Evan had styled his curls so they looked even better than they had before they went to the monster truck rally. He was so focused on how handsome Evan looked that he almost missed the way Evan’s breath caught and the blush that appeared on his cheeks. 

They stood there admiring each other for a moment longer before Tommy said, “Are you ready to go?” His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears. 

If it were any other day Tommy would definitely have commented on Evan’s hair or the way his ass filled out the dress pants. But today was not any other day. Evan was about to come face to face with the 118 all together for the first time since he transferred. Tommy guessed Evan’s hands fidgeting with his uniform had everything to do with that and not the way Tommy had checked him out. 

“As ready as I can be. Let’s go before I chicken out,” Buck affirmed.

“Yes sir,” Tommy replied pointing a finger gun at Evan.  Finger gun? Seriously Kinard? Get it together. He couldn’t be too embarrassed though since Evan huffed a small laugh. Tommy would take it. Whatever he needed to do to help Evan get through the day.

tags (reblog or comment to be added): @consulting-goddess-of-deductions @sensitivescream @inawickedlittletown @walkedthroughfires @cannibalhellhound @fenrirscarsback @nochance-noway @meltedredweasels @moonydanny @thestrangestthlng @the-little-red-queen @sagahaft @tommy-loves-evan @deansmilo @fierybuck @manifestingchaoticvibes @javanicko @chococara25 @911coded @911-is-my-emergency @harmonic-intervention @teabroomsandbooks @comeon-intothemadhouse @sweaters-and-silly @magdad @n1kkii @nephilimeq @partofthelouniverse @xoxo-jnh-xoxo @angelus-bellator @sleepy-lazy-loser @sassybeautydiysports @dandelioncasey @sporadicmakerwerewolf

[luvmyboyss]

MIDNIGHT MEETINGS | GEORGE WEASLEY

✮ Pairing: George Weasley x Slytherin!reader

✮ Synopsis: You and your friends wanted some food from the kitchen, to your surprise someone else was in the same path.

✮ Warnings: None? First meeting, there is no year specification, fluff, no use of reader nor y/n, no friends names

✮ Word count: 0.4K

✮ A/N: This is the first time that i write something and i publish it, i'm very sorry because it's very short and english is not even my first language but i hoppe y'all like it. I accept reviews of all kind, even more if it will help me improve, thank you. 🫶🏻🫶🏻

✮ PS: Thank you @hyuneskkami for the red dividers, these are the perfect color!! 🫶🏻😭

You and two of your friends were slowly and silently walking around school going to the kitchen after curfew. This was because Slytherin won a quidditch match without sly strategies, nor anything out of the ordinary, and since some of your friends were in the team you all felt like celebrating.

You had walked half of the distance when suddenly footsteps were heard, all your body was now filled with goosebumps and your blood ran cold.

You could've sworn that filch was behind the corner, but to everyone's surprise and relief, it was just the Weasley twins.

¨Bloody hell, you could have been more careful, you Weasleys don't know how to live without making noise do you?¨ one of your friends asked.

None of you have actually interacted with them, but you sure liked to stare at George from a distance, see the softness of his hair, how he is always laughing, even trying to steal glances from him in between the halls or at meals. 

¨Well there is no fun in being cautious all the time, is it?¨ Fred replied while his twin smirked from his side.

You heard the small talk that came from your side, but were more focused on the twin you'd been eyeing for some time now. You wondered if he even knew who you were, ¨definitely not¨ you thought to yourself. 

¨should we keep going on this nightly quest?¨ George offered to everyone and took you out of your daydreaming.

Your friends and the twins kept going to the kitchen, there was some laughter here and there, but you all managed to stay as quietly as you could. In that time your mind was all over George Weasley, you wanted so badly to say something but didn't know exactly what.

¨Hey you are the only one who hasn't spoken in all this time, 'cat got you're tongue?¨ 

HE asked you, laughing a bit, suddenly you felt all red and out of breath.

¨Well I'm not a person of many words¨ you spoke softly since you still didn't want to make much noise.

¨Come on don't lie to me, I've seen you laugh and talk nineteen to the dozen¨ he told you with a big smirk on his face.

You tried covering your red face, he was indeed watching you, what were the odds ?!

You wanted to talk to him but you soon realized your destiny was in front of you and your friends were already urging you to come take bottles with you, so with a small gesture of your hands and a smile you left George there, watching you from the distance waving goodbye too.

[turtleblogatlast]

Small but significant character moments that I actually really adore are from both the times we see the boys as tots. There is a reoccurrence that happens in both of them that I find so incredibly interesting.

For the turtle tot short, Splinter leaves the boys with weapons. In the short, Raph is the one who suggests they do “what Lou Jitsu would do” and Leo is the one who takes point when Splinter comes back to reprimand them. Leo, in taking point, is the one to defend them and get Splinter off their tails.

And then, in the flashback regarding the Kuroi Yōroi helmet, Raph is the one who grabs and throws “Skully” as a way to replace their missing ball which breaks it into pieces, but Leo is the one who speaks for the group and rushes into action to fix the teapot.

I love this for multiple reasons, but the biggest are how it shows that Raph has always been inclined toward the bold and fun and making the plans to include his brothers in what he loves and believes they’d love, whereas Leo has always been inclined to be the “Face” of the group and shoulder the attention even if it’s potentially negative all while coming up with on the spot attempts to fix the situation.

[icewindandboringhorror]

recent things and such~

[possamble]

Question to a fanfic writer: do you think that, in Marcille’s research ways *And* her love for romance novels… would result in her writing some in-universe fanfics of her own? Like, maybe she hypes herself up on something and get disappointed, or maybe she finds some character decision isn’t as ideal as she thinks it could be? Or it’s as simple as she wants to play around with the characters and see what happens?

I can’t help but imagine a scenario where she’s struggling with some romantic trouble irl and she’s struggling with deciding on what to do, but then the answer slaps itself upside her head when she rediscovers her fanfics and how she LITERALLY made a character or two do the exact romantic decision she needs to do? It would so silly but yet I can’t help but find it so charming. Hell, just the imagery of her writing romance fanfics of her own At All is just… delightful to me hehehe.

you know I've been rotating this in my head since I saw it this morning and. I went through a wild journey of opinions before I realized... Marcille wouldn't think about fanfiction like we think about it. In the modern age, yeah, she'd be a complete tumblrina -- but we're talking about a 17th century-ish fantasy setting.

Writing before the digital age was a physical commitment to investing ink and paper into your thoughts -- and this is even before mass production can make pens and notebooks kind of whatever to buy and use on a regular basis. I'm sure the situation wasn't dire, but I really can't see Marcille, perfect honor student, using her allotted supply of stationery at the academy on super frivolous things.

Fanfiction has been normalized incredibly fast in the past few decades. Think about now normal and popular D&D is nowadays compared to how much people looked down on it 20-30 years ago. Fanfiction was a freakass nerd thing to do until relatively recent history, something that was even considered offensive to the original creators.

Remember, we've already seen Marcille react to adaptations with disgust. She's kind of a hater and an elitist fan. She also considers herself a Reputable Academic. In a setting where a digitized culture hasn't reframed fanfiction as an act of appreciation and creativity, she would absoluuuuuuuutely think that fanfiction was complete loser shit.

If she did write anything about her favourite books... She'd. She'd be one of those assholes who writes huge scathing reviews of Dal Clan translations into Common. She'd be the fantasy equivalent of those Weebs/Japanese elitists on twitter tearing through every single localization choice in anime and JRPGs and being so so annoying about it.

If we're being charitable, we could say she'd be able to appreciate non-faithful translation choices that still do a good job of carrying over the original spirit of what was said. But I think we also have to acknowledge the possibility that, at her worst, she'd really really be like those guys who were malding about the Unicorn Overlord localizations so hard the (correction: Final Fantasy Tactics Creator, not the Unicorn Overlord devs) had to step forward and ratio them. (The silver lining is that she'd never get published in the arts review newspapers/journals that she submits her essays to. those poor editors just have to deal with her being persistent.)