#this helped me organize my thoughts actually LMAO

[wundrousarts]

Something I’ve noticed for awhile is that I often get comments from people about how they are surprised how I always come up with theories and try to guess what might happen and they “could never do that” themselves. I want to say: yes you can! There’s honestly a shortage of Nevermoor theories and ideas and speculation and etc and I want to see MORE!!!

Want to talk about how Morrigan’s mom is actually secretly alive? How the Scholar Mistresses are a Wundrous Act? Do you think the Tempus Divinity looks like an owl, or do you think Weaving and Ruination would be met together? Or have you ever thought about how this one line, from Chapter 19 of Nevermoor, about Betram Crow actually means he was a Cursed Child? Whatever it is you want to talk about: GO FOR IT!!!

I personally find it very fun to go sort of “English class mode” and look at the text in front of me and think about what different things might mean and analyze it and even overthink it to an unnecessary (but fun!) amount. But that’s just me and how I like to approach things! You don’t need to make long posts and quote specific lines if that isn’t your style. The big thing to remember is that so much can happen in the next six books, so throw any idea out there! You never know what twists and turns will be thrown at us. I think it’s fun to share these ideas and discuss with other people— sure, maybe there’s just something you missed when reading, but perhaps some new ideas spawn might from it. Some speculation could even serve as inspiration for fics!

There are some theories and thoughts that I’ve posted that have been “debunked” when I reread a book, or when someone pointed out something, or even just when something had a real-world basis that I as an American didn’t catch. But it was still fun to think about it all, and there’s some bits and pieces that I see as notable and worth considering. I think most of the Silverborn Masterpost is going to be “wrong”, but if just 1% of it is “correct”, even indirectly, I will take that as a win. I know it feels like during the hiatus everyone’s talked about everything, but I hope that the incoming communal reread (fingers crossed) and obviously Silverborn brings some speculation back to the fandom because I want to discusssssss!

[dead-potato-monster]

what the opps don't know is that i lock to write my big thesis papers by listening to apt by rosé ft. bruno mars on loop.

[ahsterism]

LEON AND ETHAN DOCS ARE UP

[kitten4sannie]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝟏 - 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐮𝐞

pairing: mafia! ot8 x undercover officer! reader (fem)

genre: mafia/organized crime au, drama, angst

w.c: 3.3k

ch. summary: after countless months of preparation and ensuing anxiety, you finally revisit the infamous Black Pirates, but from the other side of the law, and it’s almost as if you’ve never left.

ch. warnings: not too many….uhhh very light depictions of violence, a bit of blood, a bit of manhandling (not the sexy kind), mingi is unhinged (?) and has a gun lmao, no smut this time but just you waittttt

a/n: hi thereeeee i cannot tell you how excited i am to share this with you all 🥹 this is my first mini series and i’ve never tackled anything this big before so please be patient with me when it comes to updates~~ (also this chapter will be the shortest of them all given it’s the intro hehe) but aaaaaaa i’m so happy we can go on this journey together >w< now sit back, relax, and enjoy ~ and if you like, please pleasee share your thoughts and feedback with me <33

song rec: scene 1 - value ~ ateez, concrete jungle ~ bad omens

fic masterlist

“Are you ready for this?” 

All you could hear was your heart thumping inside your ears, unable to focus on your Commander in Chief’s loaded question, tuning into the sounds of keyboard tapping and faceless chattering about the current crimes and cases that were plugging up the figurative drain of your local prescient, rather than what he was saying to you. Were you ready to infiltrate one of the most prevalent crime families your law enforcement agency has come to know and loathe over the better part of the year? Not as their friend, but this time, as an enemy? They had half your city in the palm of their hands and were itching to take it over, pushing the drug and gun trade into overdrive, washing countless loads of dirty dollar bills, and in turn, leaving you and your agency to clean up the mess they left behind — and what a mess they always made. Bullets, bodies, and broken dreams. Crime and punishment. Officers, regulations, and yellow tape. An endless game of chess that nobody ever seemed to win. The perpetrators of this game, their faces never left your mind, etching their likeness inside the grooves of your memory even after being away from them all for so long, at least, until now — if you stopped being such a goddamn pussy and answered your boss. 

“Y/N…? You can back out if you need to…” He gave you an apologetic smile. “Given your history, I know it might be a lot on you. We can always put somebody else in instead.” 

“No..!” you suddenly protested, bringing a closed fist near your mouth as you forcefully cleared your throat. “With all due respect, sir, I’ve been preparing myself for this since you helped me…change course and join the academy.” Realizing you were digging your nails into your palms, you relaxed your grip, leaving red idents behind. “And, of course, when we realized what the Kim Estate was actually doing behind closed doors.”

“It certainly wasn’t tennis,” the seasoned man chuckled softly, leaning back slightly inside his fraying office chair, rubbing at his eyes from underneath his reading glasses, not aware of how prominent his eye bags were becoming. He let out a small sigh. “Y/N, I have a lot of trust in you. Going back into that world as an undercover operative is not a walk in the park under any circumstances, but this…they have proven to be unpredictable. I’ll ask you once more. Are you sure you can handle this case?” 

In all honesty, you were never too sure what you could handle, both in your professional and personal life, but the uncertainty never stopped you from diving in headfirst. And this, this case, being one of the dominos that would knock them all down, well…it was simply too delicious to pass up. 

You stood up, bowing your head to your superior, before giving him a knowing nod. “I’m ready, sir.” 

-

Your closest friend back in your police academy days and fellow undercover partner, Yeonjun, was the first person you spotted upon exiting your boss’ office, well, specifically his bright red hair, slowly navigating past the maze of desks and whispering coworkers to make it over to him, privy to the looks some of them gave you as you slipped past them — though it didn’t phase you anymore. Your past did not define you. At least, that’s what your therapist had been telling you the past few years. 

“Hey, partner,” Yeonjun greeted you with a smile, reaching out to hand you a paper cup full of freshly steeped coffee, leaning back to sit down on the crowded surface of his desk. “Tomorrow’s the big day. You ready?” 

You took the steaming cup, your jaw tensing as the bitter liquid hit your tastebuds. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, Choi.” You always thought of someone else when you uttered that surname. He was the complete opposite of your partner here: calm and collected, soulless when he wanted to be and full of love the very next moment, ticking back between the two like a malfunctioning metronome. You hated him for it. 

“Hey, it’s just Yeon, now. Come tomorrow, I won’t be my normal sexy self.” He pulled his freshly printed fake ID out of his t-shirt pocket and held it up to your face, replicating the toothy smile he had inside the picture. “Well, still sexy, yeah?” 

Chuckling, you leaned in, studying the fake ID, impressed by how real it looked. “Very sexy, Yeon, but remind me why you dyed your hair red? Is it the quarter life crisis settling in?” 

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, tucking his ID back into his pocket. “Ha-ha, funny. I just thought I should look the part if I’m going in as some renowned hacker.” 

You pushed a few files out of the way to lean against Yeonjun’s desk beside him. “Have you been studying up on your skills then?” 

“Of course, I have. I know I joke around a lot, but I’ve  dedicated my life to this, Y/N…” 

You looked down at Yeonjun’s hand, the one that rested on the desk in between you, his fingers drumming against the surface. “Good, because they don’t play around…”

The drumming stopped. Yeonjun turned his head to look at you, a flicker of light inside his brown eyes, like he was trying to understand you. “Do you…ever think about your life before the academy? Before this? Do you wish you could go back?” 

You bit into your lip, gazing past Yeonjun’s hand at one of the files that contained information about the very people you would be betraying. “I…just want to be good. Do what’s right…That’s why I left all of that. It’s why I’m here now.” 

He leaned over slightly until his shoulder pressed into yours, using his pinky to nudge at yours. “Not many would do what you’ve done, y’know. Giving up their way of life for something like this.” 

You nudged back, staring into the half empty cup of coffee you were still holding onto. “Not many people are this stupid.” 

“Not stupid.” Yeonjun pretended to clink his empty paper cup against yours, giving you a soft smile. “Brave. You’re the key component of this entire operation, Y/N. That’s huge. You’ll make a difference. Isn’t that what this is all about?” 

“Maybe…you’re right,” you replied softly, once again distracted by the folder from before, the one that was slightly open just enough to reveal the image of a man with slick back hair, dressed in quaint Victorian style clothes, with a big bow wrapped around his neck. Kim Hongjoong, owner of the Kim Estate and leader of the Black Pirate Organization. You knew him all too well, and all his closest cohorts. Would they recognize you? You hadn’t seen them since you were a young girl, forgotten by most and lost inside a system that didn’t care about you, except for the ambitious young man that swore he would one day be sat atop his ivory tower with those that followed his path. And now there he was, living the high life inside his big shiny mansion, sipping on fine wine, while you were still forcing down bitter instant coffee day after day, surrounded by people that looked at you, but never really saw you for what you were, whatever that was. Maybe Hongjoong knew. 

“Y/N…? You’re staring off into space again…” Yeonjun whispered near you, getting up from the desk once you came back to Earth. “Anyways, it’s late, and we have a lot to do tomorrow. We should get going.” 

“You’re right, we need as much rest as we can get.” You stretched out your legs before standing back up, just now noticing that you were the only two left inside the workspace, the light from your Chief’s office still peeking out past the dusty blinds. Maybe your Chief knew. 

Packing up your briefcase, you smiled at Yeonjun. “Should I dye my hair too?” 

Yeonjun pouted, resting his own briefcase against his hip. “That’s my thing.” 

-

Particles of dust and dirt filled your lungs, joining the blood that you began to choke on. It hurt to breathe, but your body carried on supplying oxygen to your lungs, not giving you a choice in the matter. You rolled over onto your back to face the night sky, your teary eyes focusing on the twinkling stars and the bright blue moon that loomed over the town, storm clouds rolling past until they blocked out the pretty view. Heavy rain began to pour down, soaking you to the bone. Even though you were losing the will to live, you still held onto the silver pair of scissors that you used to prove a point, even though it might’ve cost you your life. That was still something. However, your dear mentor still stood over you, his neck being clutched tightly by his trembling fingers, crimson slowly slipping past them. 

“See what happens when you bite the hand that feeds you? Ungrateful brat,” he choked out in between shallow breaths. Frustrated, he let out a gurgled growl, tossing his bloodied shank onto the dirt road beside his feet. You could’ve sworn you saw tears slip down his flushed cheeks, but then again, it was raining. “I didn’t want to do this…but you gave me no choice.” 

His closest companion took a step forward to securely grasp his upper arm, urging him, “Sir, we need to get you to the nearest hideout. I won’t let you bleed out like this.” 

The disheveled man’s other trusted subordinate placed a gloved hand on one of his shoulders, squeezing into it with urgency. He surveyed you past his foggy glasses, pushing them up the slope of his nose. His eyes were once filled with a sense of endearment when he looked at you, but now, they held contempt. “She made her decision, sir.” 

The struggling leader turned his head to look back and forth between his dear followers, then at his men who all waited behind them, their rain-streaked faces contorted with conflicted apprehension. They stood perfectly still like statues, until the all too familiar sound of sirens rang out in the distance. That’s when they all scattered, like rats, escaping from the flashing lights and disappearing into the dark of the night.  

Your soon to be killer was the last one to leave, looming over you as though he was Death himself, beads of rain, sweat, and blood dripping from his chin and down onto your face below. “Just one question, darling…” He held his neck tighter than before, growing dizzier from all the blood loss. “Why?” 

A small, self-satisfied laugh painfully bellowed from your chest, causing you to grab at your stomach where it had been sliced into. “The blade cuts both ways, sir. I was just following your lead…” You weakly lifted your hand up in the air, as though you wanted to reach him, but simply couldn’t. “Why aren’t you proud of the monster you created?” 

The man began to beam at you, but the corner of his lips stretched to an unfathomable degree, as though he had carved a smile into his own face. He lifted his chin up just enough to rid himself of the shadow that was cast over him, his brown eyes now void of anything, simply black. Soulless. “Oh, darling…the monster was always there. I simply dug it up.” 

You suddenly woke up and sat upright in your bed, your entire body covered in a layer of sweat, leading you to desperately kick off the comforter that had trapped you inside the sweltering heat. Upon realizing you were no longer caught inside a warped memory from your adolescence, you looked down at your stomach, lifting up the edge of your shirt to see if your scar was still there, sighing softly when you saw the jagged patch of skin. 

Your past doesn't define you. He doesn't define you — none of them do. And, now, you had the opportunity to create your own definition, and get a little revenge while you were at it. 

-

“Do we ring the doorbell…?” Yeonjun asked from beside you, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot, getting a bit dizzy from trying to take in all of the glory of the Kim Estate. 

You were too busy studying the faded stains of blood left on the stone floor below to notice how out of character Yeonjun was already behaving, not that you could blame him. A similar prick of anxiety was already embedding itself into your mind, but you waved it away as soon as it made itself present. “We may be entering a lion’s den, but we won’t behave like them. I’ll knock.” 

Yeonjun nodded swiftly, clutching the handle of his messenger bag tightly inside his sweaty hand. “Hopefully they don’t eat us alive.” 

You gently pushed a few strands of hair behind your ear, making sure you didn’t disturb the positioning of the micro earpiece that was sitting just behind your tragus. “They won’t, as long as we prove our worth.” 

You grabbed onto the obnoxious ivory door knocker, and just as you were about to make your presence known, you found yourself being yanked into the mansion by someone much bigger than you, Yeonjun’s squeaks of protest becoming background noise as soon as the man slammed you against the nearest wall. What felt to be the cold barrel of a compact handgun pressed up into the bottom of your chin with a click, your assailant’s focused, deep-set eyes boring into your own. “Is this how you welcome all your guests?”

“Not all of them…some I leave dead on the doorstep before they can even get a chance to beg on their knees,” the man muttered in a distinctly gravelly voice, a small chuckle bubbling out of his throat. Usually, the people he dealt with would be pissing themselves at this point, but it just seemed to be another day for this strangely familiar visitor. 

You could almost see your partner out of the corner of your eye, already on his own knees, his distinctively red hair being held onto by a nameless man in a 3-hole knit balaclava. It was then that you angled your head up slightly to get a good look at your old friend, feeling the barrel push harder into your skin. “Every guard dog has to have their fun, right? And, if you blew my head off now, well, where’s the fun in that?” 

“You’re right, doll.” The tall man’s plump lips quirked up into a smirk, slowly dragging his gun past your chin, down your neck, and along the softest parts of your body, poking and prodding at you in an attempt to humiliate you. “Should I see how many new holes I can give you? Fill them all with hot lead?” 

“At least buy me a drink first,” you said through gritted teeth, trying not to show any discomfort when he pushed the loaded gun roughly into your abdomen, directly into your scar, not that he could’ve known it was there. 

He seemed to enjoy your pained response, leaning his head back to let out a sudden laugh, one that was short and abrupt like a bark. “You’re one crazy bitch…” The man licked over his plump lips. “I like that.” 

It was just then that somebody else entered the foyer, their presence so distinctly powerful, the lot of you couldn’t help but notice before he even stepped foot in the room. “Is that any way to treat a valued guest, Mingi? I thought I trained you better than that.” 

Mingi immediately de-cocked the gun and brought it behind his back, tucking it away inside the waistline of his tailored pants. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Seonghwa patted Mingi’s shoulder with a gloved hand, giving him a small nod of understanding, before turning his attention to you and Yeonjun, the both of you cautiously standing with your backs against the paneled wall. “I do apologize for my guard dog. We try to keep him on a tight leash, but sometimes…he gets loose.” His shifting eyes formed half crescents. “You understand.” 

Yeonjun glanced over at you for guidance, and you responded with a small smile, before nodding your head obediently at Seonghwa’s words, Yeonjun following your lead. “It’s not a problem.” 

Seonghwa clasped his hands together, shaking his head slightly, a strand or two of raven hair falling past his forehead from where the rest of it sat perfectly still. He couldn’t seem to understand why he was experiencing a bout of deja vu. “Where are my manners?” He pressed his palm into his chest, and gave a small bow. “I’m Park Seonghwa, the second in command, if you will, here at the Kim Estate.” 

Yeonjun bowed back instantly, pushing his dyed hair behind his ears as he stood up straight. “My name’s Yeon. That’s what I go by online.” 

Seonghwa’s eyebrows raised up slightly. “Ah, I know you.” He chuckled to himself, glad that he was able to pinpoint the air of familiarity, but still annoyed that something wasn’t quite right. “You’re that hacker that’s going around and fucking with the local government, aren’t you?” 

Yeonjun was glad he didn’t eat too much that morning, otherwise he would’ve already thrown it up by now. He brought a peace sign up to his face and smiled. “That’s me, professional shit-stirrer at your service.” 

As more men began to trickle into the foyer to see what all the commotion was about, Seonghwa slowly turned his attention back to you, the true object of his frustration. It’s like he had seen you many times before, in a dream, perhaps? In the casino they ran behind closed doors? Or maybe you were one of the many playthings that were brought in to appease the voracious appetites of his degenerate cohorts. Either way, Seonghwa both loved and loathed the way you were already inside his mind, like you had already lived there, and your existence had simply been unearthed by the sands of time. 

“And, you are…?” he asked in a slow, calculated manner, his head tilting to the side. 

“I’m a diamond expert,” you explained vaguely, motioning to the large suitcase of supplies you were holding. “I can see the value of most things from a mile away, much like your dear leader.” 

Hongjoong was already aware of your arrival. You could feel it in your bones. 

Seonghwa brought a closed fist to his chin, nodding at your words, still not completely sure why he felt so uncomfortable. “But, who are you?” 

Your bubbling amusement was starting to rush to the surface, unable to keep yourself from smiling. And, just like that, you reunited with your dear mentor, except on opposite sides of the chess board. You were delighted everyone was there to witness the beginnings of your awaited rematch. “Why don’t you ask him? I think he’ll have an idea of who I am,” you replied giddily, prompting you to motion your head to the man that stood above the rest of you. 

You felt something stir within the men that looked at you, as though what had been hidden for so long had finally come to light. You weren’t a ghost, much to their surprise — well, at least, not yet. You were, of course, taking a gamble with your life, and your partner’s as well, but risks were meant to be taken, rules were meant to be broken, and strings were meant to be cut.

As though right on time, Hongjoong dug his nails into the mahogany railing of the expansive landing, his free hand unconsciously adjusting the bow that was wrapped securely around his neck. He understood the most out of all them. Value. You looked up to him, moving your fingers as though you were using a pair of scissors. 

“Remember now?” 

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[notsodailycake]

Ok, this was originally done as an apology for my angsty drabble about Shockwave controlling Prowl then straight up killing Jazz at the end lmao.

Now, with the added fic made from it, I feel like we fans will be needing some fluff, so i bestow yall with this little drabble.

This was based off of a little something that me and my sister have talked about few times. Laughter, and how much that can spiral out of control heh.

Hope this makes yall laugh as much as it made us while writing this (seriously, we ended up going on our own spiral of laughter while trying to get the ideas out to write).

To give the very deserved credits to my sister @saltynsassy31 who wrote down some of the parts of this fic herself, so give your praises to her as well for it!

Mecha pilot au belongs to @keferon

Now onto the fic:

------

"Human laughter scares me"

It had been a normal and quiet afternoon, how did it escalate to this?! That's all Prowl could think of when trying to rationalise this situation, currently holding a wheezing human on his palm.

...

Jazz was out of his suit, needing a break, by Prowl's insistance, to eat something. Despite not being an organic himself, he seems the one most concerned about the condition of his partner. Humans were so fragile, yet somehow very much not, it baffled the mech.

So many things worked against the survival of a human, their own bodies sometimes, the more he learned about it, yet somehow they prevailed.

But he was not about to take any chances, so, in turn, he made sure Jazz would be taken care properly, if not by himself, then by Prowl.

Jazz was sitting down on Prowl's desk, just telling a story from his home planet while the mech listened, the little human insisting that if he needed a break, so did Prowl, and his leader was not opposed to the idea.

As he went on about a random story of his childhood, the human seemed to remember something branching from that train of thought and when he tried to get to the point of the story, something odd happaned.

He snorted a little. That, Prowl has seen the human do a few times, even heard him do this strange noise when he was just seen as the mecha suit itself. He learned quickly that was simply how humans sometimes held their laughter, to try and compose themselves.

But that only seemed to be the start of it. As little by little, Jazz struggled to utter out a single word as he snorted and wheezed slightly the at words.

"Did you- heheh- Did you- Hahaha-"

And as Jazz attempted to say whatever it was he wanted to say, it was as if his body refused and rejected the word, air being sucked in hard with a wheeze before being pushed out even harder that it made a gutteral noise rip out of the human's throat. And if Prowl thought that was all he needed to push out the words he wanted, he was sorely mistaken, as this was only the start.

Jazz suddenly got up from his previous sitted position, wheezing a little as he lifted a trembling hand up to point at the mech, seeming to think that could help with his inability to speak out his thoughts. Instead that just caused him to let out a audial piercing screech. He moved his hands around more, trying to somehow convey whatever it was that caused this reaction, but the way they frantically moved did little to help and actually made whatever was happening to Jazz worse, if that was even possible.

And it was, because suddenly Jazz was clutching at his stomach and throwing himself backward as his voice became a cacophony of scratchy noises and incoherent mumbling, and what alarmed Prowl the most was how Jazz seemed to start getting dizzy and stumbling around, throwing one hand to try and catch anything as he stumbled forward but only swatted at air. Which, Prowl may add, seemed to be something that the human was struggling to take in.

And, if his memory serves him right, he needed that.

Quickly Prowl moved his servo over to Jazz, looming over him to catch him if he were to fall, or even just to serve as support. Jazz seemed to have taken on the offer, leaning a hand over the palm while his other hand clutched at his stomach.

That didn't last long though, as quickly as he made move to look at Prowl's servo, something clicked in his head, and quickly he stumbled back, letting out more uncomfortable and uncontrolled wheezed laughter.

Prowl got intensely more worried at his partner's condition, now deciding to call him out on it. "Jazz, what's wrong? Is everything alright??"

That seemed to have been the wrong move, as although the other had momentarily stopped to look at the mech with tear filled eyes and a strained smile, it quickly devolved to even more incomprehensible laughter and struggle to convey any words. Jazz tried his very best to form any words that would explain the situation, but it only came out as puffed wheezes following a rhythm that Prowl could only guess were the vowls of what he wanted to say, but he could distinguish none of them as he was not all that familiar with the language.

The human quickly fell to his knees, his hands clutched into fits as his knuckles turned white from the pressure and he slammed them on the desk's surface, as yet another strange attempt to bring air into his lungs.

Before Prowl could try and resson any sort of an appropriate action to this, Jazz let out a scream. Much less screechy than before, and much more like a war cry. Prowl wouldn't be surprised if somebot came in questioning what all the commotion was for.

"Jazz!!" Prowl called out exasperated and yet again, that was another wrong move, causing the human to start rolling on the surface of the table as maniacal laughter dripped from his intake, hands flailing around and slamming hard against the table as if that would somehow force his body to breath properly.

Jazz began to stutter, and sometimes his mouth would stay open yet not a single noise would cone out of it, neither did he seem to be taking in or exhaling any air, like he was frozen in the moment before an audial peircing noise ripped from the human's throat after a big gasp of air.

He had flipped over to his side before trying to lift himself up, body trembling with strain, before he suddenly dropped his head and slammed his forehead against the table and reached to place his hands over right behind his audials ears and shakily exclaim "it hurts!" While still smiling. It sent Prowl mixed signals.

The mech sat there in abstant horror as he processed what was being desplayed infront of him. In delayed reaction, Prowl could only mutter one word.

"What?"

And for the third time that was, once again, the wrong  reaction as Jazz let out a howling screech at that with more breathless laughter.

Prowl was left clueless as to what he should try and do to help his partner, simply reaching out and gently picking up the tiny, breathless  human to see if he could do something to ease the possible pain.

He moved his cupped servo close to his face to try and analyse Jazz's condition. Maybe he should take him to one of the medics who had been helping them so far with organic knowledge, but as far as he knew, this wasn't supposed to be harmful, it was simple human laughter! To express joy or humour to something, and clearly there was a lot of it to cause Jazz to get like this. But he was clearly struggling to breath with this, so it has to be something serious.

Could humans die from something as simple and supposedly joyful as laughter?

Before Prowl could open his intake, Jazz had seemed to have sensed his partner's internal struggle and need to understand it, and quickly placed a tiny hand on his dermas. Although it might have been quite aggressive, and hurt the regular human with its strength, it felt nothing but a pinch to Prowl.

"Don't-" he wheezed out, barely audible to Prowl, the second word lost to another wheezed breath, mouth only mimicking the movement it was supposed to take. Though, this time, the mech understood quite well what he ment.

So he did as instructed, and didn't utter a single word, hoping his optics did the job to deliver his thoughts.

That was the fouth time, and counting, the mech did something wrong, because it seems like his worried glance were funny to the little human. That his concerns for his health were humorous to him. And honestly, Prowl wasn't sure if he should take offence to that or not.

At this point, Prowl could do nothing else other than to sit there, dumbfounded, which was not a situation he felt pleased being in (and didn’t find himself often in, until this human came crashing into his life), as his partner laughed off uncontrollably, slamming his hands over his own knees, or sometimes at the palm of the servo holding him, while clutching his stomach in what seemed to be strained pain.

Prowl made move to get up now, thoroughly done with this and ready to deliver the troubled human to a medic. He was losing too much air at this point and it could very much fatal.

But just as he did, before he could even fully stand from his seat, the mech caught a glance over to Jazz who, despite his struggles with breathing at the moment, waved over an arm in signal for Prowl to stop moving. Prowl raised a questioning brow, which was the fifth wrong move (he might as well just assume everything he does that expresses concern will be a wrong move at this point), as Jazz quickly fell into more laugher, but the exhaustion was clear to any bot as he gasped far more aggressively for air in attempt to stop his uncontrolled laugh.

"Sit." He breathed out, gagging a little at the word before attempting to speak once more. "Don't- haha- move." After more strained giggles, he uttered one more word he deemed necessary; "please."

So Prowl sat down, and watched as Jazz let out whatever was left in his system. To his relief, it seemed like that had been the first correct move Prowl has done over the past joor, as Jazz was finally starting to calm down, fallen flat on his back by now, as he let out exhausted breaths.

It was quiet for a moment, Prowl wasn't sure how long, but slowly Jazz started to move himself from his fallen position to sit back up, using trembling hands to hold himself from the back. It took a little more of breathing before the human decided to speak again, hesitantly, as if to test for himself if it was safe to speak.

"S-sorry about....that"

Prowl was unsure if he should speak up himself, but deemed appropriate enough by now. "Care to....explain, all of that?"

Jazz let out another snort at that, which caused the mech to panic that he might have caused the human to spiral down once more. But he just shook his head while bitting down on his bottom lip, as if to hold his smile from growing.

"I just....lost control."

"Lost control?" Prowl raised a questioning brow, Jazz just kept looking away as if he knew just looking at the mech would cause trouble once more.

"Y-yeah."

Prowl had so many questions about how that was even possible, one such question being whether there could be a system override for such an occasion, but his processor quickly screamed back in reminder that that was not possible.

They sat in silence once more as Jazz caught up with all the air he missed out during his fit, and Prowl contemplated on what or if  he should ask something. Finally, after maybe a klik or so, Prowl finally inquired on something.

"Jazz, you looked like you were about to die-"

"Sure felt like it" the human chuckled, Prowl did not find humour on that.

"I'm serious Jazz, could such a simple thing as laughter really kill you?" The most demanding question on his processors, slipping out without a second to stop it. That seemed to have caught his partner off guard, and, thank Primus, such concern was not left for the human's humour as he looked genuinely guilty and possibly conflicted over the question.

"Weeellll..." As he made move to rotate one of his hands, as if to try and roll out a proper answer, the answer itself seemed to click for Prowl.

"Oh my Primus it can." The mech looked utterly horrified at the revelation. "You could have died Jazz-"

"NO! Wait Prowl, stop!" Jazz panicked, quickly trying to console his giant partner. "I would have been fine! It would take alot more to kill me!" That did not seem to comfort the mech.

"How much?!"

"Uhm, ok, 'm honestly not sure." Prowl raised his brows, looking very much not pleased with that answer, but Jazz continued before Prowl could, "but I know that worse case scenario I would've just passed out, but would be able to breath normally again. You'd just have to wait till I woke up again!"

The mech seemed to contemplate whether that was a satisfactory answer or not. He seemed to have landed in the middle.

"You seemed to be in genuine pain though, so pardon my concerns about it."

"'S cuz I was."

"Then why didn't you stop?"

"I just couldn't, 'nd I don't have the answer as to why honestly, so sorry to disappoint. Sometimes we humans just start laughing and it gets out of control, to the point where everything's funny, even a pencil drop could cause the spiral to worsen."

"Or a concerned partner's face?" Prowl mused

Jazz chuckled, "yeah."

After a few seconds, Prowl decided to muse a bit on something. "So, what was it that you wanted to try and tell me earlier?" He smirked down at his partner.

The human just shook his head, chuckling slightly, but not falling down exasperated laughter. "I'm not even gonna try that again."

-----

Final notes. I added a little moment of Jazz pressing the back area of the ears, idk what they're called, while exclaiming he's hurt, and it's from my own personal experience of laughing so much that area would start to hurt from smiling so much, and I'd have to scream out "it hurts!" To try and stop it.

Not sure if anyone else experienced that, so yeah. Either way, thought it be funny to have this happen with Jazz, as I dont think cybertronians can necessarily go through the same issue of laughing so much in insanity because of lack of air. And also, yeah, it can be deadly, but it would take alot for that...as far as I know-

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 2

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut (still not in this chapter lmao), No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon what canon

Word Count: 2k

A/N: So... this was posted prematurely a couple hours ago. This is the actual finished longer version. If you don't know what I'm talking about, thank god. Sorry this took so long, lmao

Just letting you guys know that my knowledge of the lore is purely based off of the movies and the Dune wiki rabbit hole I fell into right after watching part two. I also took a few liberties with the canon here.

I'm super open to constructive criticism, or any criticism at all (feel free to absolutely roast me). Like I mentioned, I've never written fanfic before so I'd love to hear your thoughts!

The evening of your first day in Giedi Prime was celebrated with a banquet where you were introduced to the most important people on the planet. You've heard many stories of the ruthlessness and brutality of the Harkonnens, hence surprised by the courtly welcome during the dinner. Although you did your best to politely ignore the Baron who floated at the head of the table being fed by servants.

You were sat beside his nephew who, despite your mother's education, has evaded your insight. You couldn't quite get a read on him.

Feyd-Rautha whispers to you amid the buzzing conversations of the banquet hall, "are you enjoying the food, little hawk?"

You shoot him a questioning look.

"I like your hairpin," he sneers.

You resist from reaching to touch the Atreides symbol affixed in your hair.

"We don't see such ornaments often here." He quietly laughs in his devilish way, only too amused with himself.

Ah, you realize. He means to torment you.

"Seems early for pet names," you say, picking at your plate, "we've only just met."

"Oh, and yet we are to be wed in less than a week's time," his raspy voice rings in your ear, "I should like to be familiar with my future wife, Lady Atreides."

The marriage pact had been signed when you were only a little girl. Inheriting your father's inclinations, you swore you would uphold your duty, undeterred by the gruesome and abhorrent stories about the Harkonnens—because you knew that centuries of conflict could end within a generation with this union. You were a willing bride.

And yet.

You give him a smile that, to those not privy to your conversation, would seem genuine, "You know nothing of me, na-Baron."

"I should like to learn," you doubt his sincerity but care not enough to discern it. He takes a smug bite of a forkful of meat, "perhaps tomorrow, you shall learn something of me."

The following morning Iassa helps you into another black gown, this time with a veil in anticipation of the black sun.

"Is it not dangerous for Feyd-Rautha to wager his life for a show?" you question.

"The na-Baron is a skilled fighter, my lady. He will emerge victorious," Iassa is straight-faced as she drapes the veil over you.

"Yes, I do not doubt it, but given he is the Baron's heir. Does it not seem a touch irresponsible to even risk it at all."

Not that you actually cared for his life, you just expected that the Harkonnens would be concerned with the preservation of their house regardless of their brutality. You recall your grandfather who got himself killed fighting bulls for sport.

"The na-Baron will be fighting war prisoners. They will be drugged beforehand. It is perfectly safe, my lady."

"Oh." You couldn't decide if you were disappointed or not, "I see."

Iassa seemed intent on dropping the subject, so you do.

You stand before a mirror and take a look at yourself. It is impossible not to be reminded of your mother. She was never one for vanity, but you like to think there was a part of her that always enjoyed the elegant dresses she and you 'had' to wear. You allow yourself a somber smile behind your veil.

"You look beautiful, my lady," Iassa curtsies.

"Thank you," you look at her bowed figure, gray robes made more dull by the stark black choker on her neck. You were sure she was at least 2 standard years younger than you are and it had only been a few months since you came of age. You wondered if she liked pretty dresses too.

Before you can ask her, there is a knock at your door.

The house steward, Jaromir, clears his throat when Iassa opens it for you, "The na-Baron requests your presence before he enters the arena."

Heavy doors open for you in one of the chambers beneath the arena. You are greeted by the sight of a half-dressed Feyd-Rautha being helped into his armor by a servant.

"Lady Atreides," he looks you up and down, "I hope you slept well."

You bow your head in acknowledgment.

"Your knives, master," a large man whom you assume to be the bladesmith presents Feyd-Rautha with two daggers.

The young Harkonnen takes one and caresses the blade with his fingers.

"I've come to wish the brave na-Baron well before his fight in the arena," you say in false earnestness.

He smiles at your inflation of his ego.

"Though I must say, I am relieved it is all for show. I would not like to see my groom wounded before we are wed."

"For show?" Feyd-Rautha tilts his head and you see his arrogant facade show the slightest crack.

"Yes, I've heard your opponents will be drugged will they not?" your voice dripping with innocence, "to ensure your safety, of course."

His grip on the dagger tightens, "and where did you hear this exactly?"

You sense the awkwardness and tension in the servants. The one who had helped don Feyd-Rautha's armor has quietly retreated to the far side of the chamber. There is a subtle tremble in the hands of one holding a plate of towels. You finally notice the three women piled upon a raised platform glaring at you.

"Just voices around the fortress," you shrug.

A deep breath recovers Feyd-Rautha's smug expression. "Call for the warden," he orders one of the guards by the door, "tell him to prepare new prisoners. Sober ones."

"My lord, you need not endanger yourself," you feign worry.

"Nonsense." The na-Baron walks closer to tower over you, "My lady bride deserves to see my true prowess."

He sees through your challenge, but you don't care. Seeing his self-satisfied smirk wiped from his face for even just a second was worth it.

"Besides," he turns away from you to inspect the second knife, "my darlings enjoy meat that's fought for its life."

The three women sneer at this and you see their sharp teeth as they hiss amongst themselves.

You've heard of Feyd-Rautha's concubines long before you arrived on Giedi Prime. Tales of their taste for human flesh were one of the things that tested your resolve in fulfilling the marriage pact. You didn't mind that the na-Baron would keep other women. It would result in less of his attentions on yourself, you figured. It was their perverse appetite that nauseated you.

A look of revulsion hides behind your veil which you sense they would be all too happy to rip to shreds.

"I will see you in the stands, little hawk," Feyd-Rautha whispers to you as he waves for a guard to escort you out.

You do your best to drown out the noise of what seemed to be a countless audience that came to see the na-Baron fight. You could understand now why they uphold such brutal traditions. The people are so excited for it.

On the other side of the arena, you sense Vladimir Harkonnen watching you from the Baron's Box that towered over the whole arena. The blazing sun only helps you avoid looking in his direction. You were sat at a viewing box, still for nobility and separated from the masses, but much lower and closer to the sands of the arena. Jaromir had told you that you were to 'give the na-Baron your favor'.

Before long, the master of ceremonies announces Feyd-Rautha's entrance in Giedi Prime Speech. They are celebrating his betrothal to you and the union of Harkonnen and Atreides, you translate in your head. You wonder if the people care for the politics of the Great Houses. They seemed no less excited to cheer at your name despite the centuries-old blood feud.

Massive doors open as the na-Baron walks into the arena. His arms outstretched holding his knives like an extension of his limbs. He riles up the crowd as he walks towards the Baron's Box and kneels to his uncle. He then rises and walks toward you, smirking under the stark light of the black sun.

You may not fear earning the Harkonnens' contempt, but you were the Duke of Caladan's daughter and you knew that the favor of the people was invaluable.

You stand and walk to the edge of the viewing box. The glowing smile you reveal as you lift your veil draws cheers from the crowd that rival what Feyd-Rautha received. You produce a pure white handkerchief from your dress pocket and make a show of kissing it and waving the cloth at the buzzing crowd. You throw it off the edge and it floats toward the na-Baron who had moved both daggers to one hand to catch it. He looks up at you with what you think could be the seeds of respect and tucks the cloth into the tight armband around his right bicep.

He turns back to the audience and raises his knives in a war cry. The crowd explodes in guttural cheers and applause. Feyd-Rautha takes his position in the middle of the arena as his first opponent is released into the white sands.

You've heard of the Harkonnen heir's aptitude in single combat. It's time to see if the stories were true or if it was just another part of their menacing facade.

You were handed a pair of spyglasses to observe with. The two fighters approach each other, the prisoner wielding a knife of his own. Feyd-Rautha holds a taunting stance. The prisoner was sober, you were sure, but even without the spyglasses, you could see he was weak. You surmised the Harkonnen cells weren't very hospitable. He attempts a swipe but the na-Baron parries with ease. Another and the na-Baron dodges. Zooming in, you could see Feyd-Rautha's twisted amusement. He was toying with the poor man—and the people loved it.

The crowds cheered at the clashing of metal, thundering when the na-Baron drew first blood by slashig his opponent's arm. It wasn't long before Feyd-Rautha's dagger had impaled the prisoner's heart. There was no pause before a second prisoner was brought out to meet a similar fate.

Feyd-Rautha stood unwounded, seething with exhilaration. He enjoyed this; the thrill of killing. He basked in the roar of the crowd. You had never ended a life before, but some deep part of you could almost understand how he felt in that moment.

A third prisoner enters the arena. He looked older than the first two, bearded and taller. He reminded you of Gurney Halleck, the Atreides Warmaster. This man certainly wasn't at his prime but you could tell he would not go down as easily as the first two.

The warrior holds his blade out in a firm fighting stance, refusing to make the first move. You notice picadors in black suits have entered the arena, circling the na-Baron and his opponent. Feyd-Rautha lunges at the prisoner and a quick series of parries from both sides occur. You see the finesse in the na-Baron's movement. He recognizes his opponent's skill and he is taking this one seriously. You were not sure what you expected of the Harkonnen's fighting style but Feyd-Rautha was vicious but precise. The crowd gasps when the prisoner disarms one of the na-Baron's knives. The warrior manages to get a grip on Feyd-Rautha's armed hand and aims to pierce the na-Baron's neck with his blade. The na-Baron struggled against his hold and the arid air was thick with anticipation.

You were unsure what outcome you desired as you stared through your spyglass. Perhaps this warrior kills your betrothed. What then? Would you really be able to go back to Caladan's windy cliffs again? Return to the arms of your mother as if it were all a bad dream? You wonder if when Feyd-Rautha becomes baron, and you his baroness, could you convince him to let you see your family.

The warrior's blade was dangerously close to your future husband's throat when one of the picadors lashes at the warrior. The na-Baron growls at the offending picador as the warrior is weakened. Feyd-Rautha pushes him off and allows him a moment to recover, taunting him to try again. Blades clash once more and after a sequence of quick ferocious movements, Feyd-Rautha's blade slashes the warrior's throat. Blood made black by the infrared of the sun splatters onto the na-Baron. He licks the darkness that landed on his lips. Heaving, he takes your bloodied handkerchief off his armband and raises it to you and the roaring crowd.

You did not even realize you were already standing, breathless at the sight.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore

[mkkk12345]

Divus Crewel x Wife Reader

He forgot something at home headcanon/fic

I had an idea lmao

A few details to note before the fic, Reader is Crewel's wife and assistant for his fashion-related work (my personal headcanon please I need this) so reader usually stays at home or goes out to get things organized or checked on for Crewel.

Divus is not the kind of person who would usually forgets anything at home, but this morning he was in a rush

That night he had stayed up later than usual to finish grading papers

In fact, he stayed up so late you had to pull him out of his office and into bed so he could actually get some rest before another day of headaches from his students (and Crowley)

Unfortunately that morning his alarm clock had run out of batteries

You had woken up before him wondering why he was still in bed and not getting ready for work so you woke him up

In a panic, he quickly thanked you with a kiss told you to go back to sleep, and rushed to get ready and get to work

You of course decided to not go back to sleep and instead helped him out by getting his bag out of his office and making him coffee as he was putting on makeup 

And with another quick thank you and a kiss, he was out the door

Luckily today was a nice and slow day for you, so you luckily got to start without such a rush

it was around 10 o'clock when you got a call from your husband informing you that he had forgotten to put all those newly graded papers in his bag last night

"If you have time could you bring those over to school for me?" he asked as he rubbed his temples in frustration

"Of course what kind of assistant would I be if I didn't" You laughed as he sighed

"You'll have to come to my classroom, I really don't have enough time to meet you at the front gates today. Sorry about that."

Well today was going to be more exciting than you thought

After quickly throwing together a nice outfit you grabbed the papers put them in a folder and made your way to school

Driving up the road to NRC was stressful you really didn't know how Divius did it every day

You parked your car outside the gates and quickly speed-walked to your husband's classroom using the instructions he had given to you over the phone

As you approach his classroom you could hear the chatter of students inside, ‘was class already over? Looks like I made it just in time’. You knocked on the door and poked your head inside all eyes were on you as the chatter suddenly dimmed. 

“Is now a good time?” you asked as you opened the door a little wider so you could gesture to the folder in your hand

“Oh perfect timing dear I was just about to dismiss these pups for lunch, well then pups it looks like you will be getting your grades back today after all.” You quickly made your way inside and over to his desk handing the folder to him “Wait here a moment we can get lunch together once I dismiss them.” he smiled at you. 

As you waited you noticed how messy his desk was, he must have been stressed, you thought as you decided to organize it for him. “Once you receive your grade you may be dismissed, if you have any questions regarding your grade you may ask me, just make it quick. Homework is due tomorrow before class” he spoke with a stern voice over the chatter, clearly glaring at some students 

As the students slowly filed out you could feel their questioning glances at you, hearing questions like

Who is that? I’ve never seen her around school before.

Does prof have a girlfriend???

Do ya think I got a chance with her?

That last one seemed to annoy Divis quite a bit. 

After all the questions had been asked and quickly answered he quickly made his way back over to you slumping back into his chair with a sigh “Sorry for the inconvenience dear I hope you weren't too busy today,” he said as he leaned his head to the side onto you. 

You laughed softly as your hand moved to stroke his hair “Dont worry Divius my only appointment is later this afternoon, you aren't interrupting anything.” 

he sighed slowly getting up and taking his coat off and draping it across your shoulders, “It’s cold here take this for the time being I dont need my lovely reliable assistant and wife getting sick now do I.” he looked over at you with a smirk. 

“Yes yes keep flattering me, I'm the best aren't I” you said holding in a laugh “Divius you’ve had nothing to eat all day you must be hungry let's get you something to eat shall we?” you looked over him with concern. 

“You are not wrong there, let me lead you to the cafeteria the food is surprisingly good.” he chuckled as he offered his arm to you with a smile.

As the two of you made your way out of the classroom you took note of the three students and a cat that stood chatting conveniently close to the entrance of the classroom looking over at the two of you ever so stealthily. “They are going to be a problem tomorrow.” your husband sighs as you laugh leaning into his side. 

BONUS

“Who tf was that????” Ace whisper shouted at the prefect as they headed to the cafeteria. “How stupid are you did you not hear him clearly say ‘assistant and wife’?” Deuce whisper shouted back. “I didn't know he was married. How long has he been married???” Grimm said borderline shouting directly into the prefect's ear. “Who cares about that, she looks like a model! How did he snag her? And you didn’t answer my question earlier, ya think I got a chance with her?” the prefect rolled their eyes at Ace as they thought ‘I need to go apologie to Professor Crewel later.’

[atlabeth]

come on back to me - nikolai lantsov

summary: five times you save nikolai and one time he saves you.

a/n: if you've seen my thoughts as i read through siege and storm and ruin and rising then you know that i am deeply in love with nikolai lantsov and since ive finally finished the trilogy i finally feel qualified to write about him lmao. i actually don’t think i’ve written a 5+1 which is crazy so here you go. i wrote this in like 2 days in a spurt of inspiration and im absolutely in love with it, so i hope you all are too!!

title from you’re the one by greta van fleet

wc: 7.3k

warning(s): fem!reader, canon typical violence, siege and storm & ruin and rising book spoilers (i have not watched the show), medical inaccuracies, nikolai's volcra era, hurt/comfort and a happy ending (as usual)

Os Alta

It all happened rather quickly. 

One moment, you were in the infirmary mending a poor soldier’s broken arm. The next, screams were erupting everywhere. 

You and the soldier locked eyes, and you did a final bit of healing on his arm before you nodded at each other and darted off. 

The soldier grabbed his gun and went further into the palace, no doubt to find the royal family, and you adjusted the collar of your kefta before you ran out into the fray. 

Nichevo’ya had surrounded everything, attacking anyone they could find, and their shadowy bodies were like a void’s blight on the land. You knew the sight would be forever burned into your mind.

You knew the Darkling was going to march on Os Alta, that he would have to do it directly to use his shadow soldiers, but this was so much earlier, so much worse than you’d expected. Enforcements were meant to come from Poliznaya. You guessed that was off the table. 

You were fine at fighting—alright with a pistol and better with a dagger—but you were a Healer. You spent more time dealing with the aftermaths of battles, more skilled at setting broken bones and mending bullet wounds than inflicting them. 

Times like these were the ones when you normally questioned your decision to not hone your abilities into a Heartrender, but now you would at least be a dead man either way. Nichevo’ya didn’t exactly have hearts to stop and organs to manipulate. 

You had to get to the other Grisha. You had to make sure the Sun Summoner made it through this attack, even if it meant you wouldn’t. 

You broke into a sprint, trying your best to ignore the crippled and broken bodies in the carnage. Your instincts tugged against you, but you knew there was nothing to be done. If you stopped to help a dead man, you would soon join them. 

You nearly battered into a group of people from your speed and lack of attention, and you reeled to the side seconds before a head-on collision. When you looked up, drawing in ragged breaths in the one second of rest you’d gotten, your eyes widened. 

You were face to face with the royal family. The King, the Queen, and Nikolai Lantsov. The absence was glaring. 

“Grisha,” Nikolai breathed, and he grabbed onto your shoulders like a madman as his fingers ran over the embroidery. He might as well have been one, the way wildfire flickered in his eyes. “You’re a Healer? One of Alina’s?”  

You nodded rapidly. “Are you—” 

“I’m getting them to safety on the Kingfisher,” he cut off, “and she wants me to get that old woman as well.”

“Baghra—?”

“You’re a Healer?” the King interrupted harshly. Your heart stuttered—you’d never been directly addressed by the King, but you supposed circumstances like these called for different standards. 

“Yes,” you nodded. “Are you hurt?” 

“My wife,” he said, and your attention turned to the Queen. Genya’s absence had taken a toll on her, and the shards of glass sticking out of her side weren’t doing her pallid frame any favors. 

“Madraya,” Nikolai whispered, his eyes wide, “I didn’t even notice.” 

“Alexander—” her voice was ragged, her entire appearance pallid— “we’ve much bigger concerns.” 

“Nonsense.” The King’s gaze bore into you. “We have time. Heal her.” 

You screwed your eyes shut, your hands closing into fists for a moment before both opened and you nodded. “Keep an eye out, moi tsarevich,” you huffed, and you moved to the Queen’s side. Nikolai’s head perked up for a moment at your words, but it disappeared just as quickly as he adjusted his grip on his pistol. 

“Of course,” he said wryly. “Not that I don’t trust your work, and not that I don’t trust my abilities, but it would be grand if you could do this quickly.” 

“Working as fast as I can,” you muttered, ignoring the noises the Queen made as you pulled the shards of glass out with little care. Your mentors would be rolling in their graves if they could see you. 

“Vasily is dead, by the way,” Nikolai said, attention focused on the nichevo’ya all around. Thankfully, you’d run into each other in a spot relatively hidden from view. Hopefully it extended to shadow creatures. “I know you were wondering.” 

Your hands faltered for a moment, but it was hardly noticeable as you continued to work. He wasn’t wrong. “I’m so sorry.” 

The Queen choked back a sob, and the King’s face betrayed the slightest bit of emotion. 

“An awful way to go,” Nikolai muttered, more to himself than anything. “But fitting that he brought about his own end.” 

His parents said nothing to your surprise, but you stood up from your knees and nodded at the King and Queen. “She’s healed enough. No internal bleeding, at least.” 

“Healed enough?” the King repeated. “That is not—” 

“It’s the best we can hope for,” Nikolai interrupted sharply. “We’ve already wasted too much time out here.” 

He then nodded, grasping your hands with fierce desperation. “The crown thanks you, darling.” You’d never seen him like this—you’d never seen him fear anything. The Darkling and his creations were a good start. “I thank you, truly.” 

“Just doing my duty,” you assured, and you pulled a small container out of the pocket of your kefta, leftover from your work in the infirmary before it all went to hell, and pressed it into his hand. “She should be alright, but I’ve been slightly rushed. Rub this salve on her wounds when you’re out of danger just to be sure.” 

Nikolai nodded again, slipping it into his own pocket. “Keep our Sun Summoner safe,” he said. “Or else this’ll have all been for nothing.” 

You nodded. “With my life.” 

Nikolai’s eyes met yours, and something unsaid passed between you. Then his hands slipped off of yours, and he continued to herd his parents away from the chaos. You muttered a quick prayer to any Saints that would listen for their safety, and then you head off on your own way. 

2. The Pelican 

You thought either the bones in your hands or the wood was going to crack with how tight you were holding onto the side of the ship. Your heart was still hammering away in your chest—the adrenaline from the battle and Nikolai Lantsov’s sudden appearance and being shot at a thousand different times by a thousand different militiamen still had you quite shaken. 

You knew the sort of chaos you were in for when you made the decision to travel with Alina Starkov rather than stay in the White Cathedral, but you think you hated being in the air like this even more than you hated being trapped underground with those zealots. 

Someone called your name, and you turned to see Adrik a while away with wide eyes. You huffed a sigh as you reluctantly let go and hastened your pace to catch up with him. If he was sent to fetch you, then someone needed healing, and you couldn’t exactly hold off on the one thing you were good at. 

Adrik led you over to a corner of the Pelican where a large portion of your group of Grisha were gathered. Tamar was kneeling next to whoever was injured, one hand splayed above their chest, and you took a deep breath as you forced calmness to wash over your mind. 

“What are we dealing with?” you asked Tamar, but it was clear enough when he spoke up. 

“I’m telling you, it’s fine,” he insisted. “Just a flesh wound.” 

“He was shot,” Tamar said dryly, “and he refuses to accept its severity.” 

“So we meet again,” you said placidly. 

Nikolai seemed to perk up when he saw you, any prior frustration absent from his face as he grinned at you and said your name. “If you’re the Healer here, then I guess I’m not so fine.” 

“Am I ever going to be around you when you’re doing important princely things,” you said as you crouched on the other side of him, Tamar continuing to keep his heart rate steady, “or only when you’re injured?” 

“This is a very important princely thing,” Nikolai said. “I’m showing my soon to be subjects that I’m just like them.” 

“You were shot and you thought you were fine?” You let out a loose sigh and shook your head—it wasn’t worth getting into it. “Keep it steady, Tamar.” 

She nodded, and you reached out to begin unbuttoning his outer coat. He wouldn’t stop shifting around, and it made it infinitely harder. 

“Will you sit still?” you snapped. 

“I am,” Nikolai said. 

“You are not,” you asserted, and you undid the final button on his coat after a struggle, “and you are making this much more difficult.” 

“My apologies,” he said. “Usually women that are taking off my clothes aren’t this angry with me.” 

You scowled, only making his smile grow. 

“You do it yourself if you want to be like that,” you said, letting your hands fall back to your side. “I’m sure the rest of your soldiers will listen to a Healer.” 

“Ah, but none of them bravely threw themselves into danger for you,” Nikolai remarked. “I’m sure that earns me a few points.” 

“Points that you’ve immediately lost by being this difficult with me.” You crossed your arms. “And you did not throw yourself into danger for me—you were in the battle and you got shot.” 

“We came to save you all, and you are a part of it,” Nikolai said. “I’d say I definitely threw myself into danger for you.” 

“You’re impossible.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “Will you not even allow a dying man some honor?”

“You are not dying,” you said, “but you will be if you continue talking. Now take off your clothes and stop being so difficult so I can fix this up before you do die.” 

He tutted as he shed his jacket and worked on the rest of his clothing. Princes were apparently fond of multiple layers. “For a Healer, your bedside manner is remarkably poor.”

“Don’t worry,” Nadia piped in, “she’s always been like this.” 

“I have very fond memories of you healing my broken ribs,” Alina said dryly. 

“All of you are still alive,” you said tartly with a glance back at your fellow Grisha, “aren’t you?” 

“I think you made me wish I wasn’t,” Harshaw mused. 

You scowled again and Nikolai laughed. “That bodes very well for me, considering how much I seem to irritate you.” 

“You’re going to be fine,” you grumbled. When you turned back to him, he’d gotten down to his undershirt and unbuttoned it. Blood had spread across the white fabric, but apart from being shot, the wound wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. It’d had the chance to fester for a bit, but with Tamar’s aid it hopefully wouldn’t be a problem.  

You took a deep breath as you placed your hands on his chest—lucky as always, you could sense the bullet missed all his major organs—but Nikolai grimaced before you could even do anything. 

“Are you alright?”

“Your hands are very cold,” he said and you just shook your head. 

“How no one has wrung you by the neck is beyond me.” 

“Many have tried.” He flashed that smile again. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t add your name to the list.” 

You ignored him, taking another deep breath before you closed your eyes. You felt your power within you, the tug you’d grown accustomed to over the years, and you focused it into a single point. 

You slowly worked on healing Nikolai, making sure you went from the inside out to stop any internal bleeding before you carefully wedged the bullet out with your knife. Surprisingly, he managed to keep his mouth shut for the most part. He watched you the entire time though, wholly unyielding, and it was unnerving. 

Nikolai covered up his pain remarkably well, but you still caught the slightest grimace when you practically stuck a dagger inside him.

“Do you always try to injure your patients more when you’re healing them?” he asked innocently. 

“You typically don’t make fun of the person fixing you up,” you said, and you held up the knife, “or the one holding the blade.”

“Surely you could’ve used David to get it out,” Zoya offered lazily. “Better than practically stabbing the King of Ravka.”

“I’m not the king,” Nikolai said. “Not yet, at least.” 

“And I’m not stabbing him.” You held up the bullet with your other hand, then let it fall to the floor. “I just didn’t feel like digging around inside him.” 

Nikolai picked up the bullet, and you frowned in question. He just shrugged. “To hold onto the fond memories of this battle and the kindest, prettiest Healer I’ve ever laid eyes on.” 

Someone snickered behind you, and you turned to see all of them just standing around—Zoya, Harshaw with Oncat perched on his shoulder, Adrik ignoring his sister to watch, even Alina and Mal were still there. At least Tamar had enough sense to stay quiet while she helped you. 

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you snapped. “It’s hard to focus with you all watching me.”

Alina blinked, seeming to come back to her senses. You almost didn’t blame her—she had so much on her shoulders, it made sense to just want to stand and stare for a minute.

“Right,” she nodded, and she gestured at Zoya and the Squaller siblings as she started walking across the ship, “Adrik, Nadia, I need you all over…”

Alina's words trailed off as she got farther away, and the small crowd dissipated to find duties to carry out without their Sun Summoner to indulge their whims. 

“Thank you for your help, Tamar,” you mumbled. “I can take it from here.” 

She nodded and went off to join the others—the controlled state Nikolai had been in dissolved as she let go of the hold she had on his heart, and the slight daze in his eye went away. 

“Are you always this mean?” Nikolai asked. You turned back to find him with that same unshakable confidence, same lazy smile even in the face of it all. It was no wonder noble and commoner girls alike tripped over themselves when he returned to Ravka. 

It was no wonder Alina fell for his charms despite the tracker by her side—he always knew the right thing to say to make you feel like everything would be okay, and in the midst of Ravka’s endless war, that was a valuable quality indeed.

“I save it for irritating princes,” you remarked. With a final flourish, his wound was sewed up, and Nikolai raised his eyebrows as he touched the newly healed skin.

There was another slight wince, but he still smiled up at you. “Excellent job.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you said.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to Grisha handiwork,” Nikolai said as he pulled himself up from the side of the ship. “Especially the healing kind.”

“It would do you good not to get used to it,” you said. “You may not be king yet, but Zoya is right. I’d appreciate it if you tried to stay out of my infirmary.”

“Do you not enjoy my company?” he asked. 

“I don’t enjoy bringing Ravka’s only heir back from the brink after every battle,” you corrected. “You’ve got a lot more weight on your shoulders now, moi tsarevich.”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly at your Ravkan. “Say that again.”

You frowned, wondering if you’d heard him correctly. Nikolai continued staring at you, so you sighed. “Moi tsarevich?”

He laughed, and that only soured your mood further. “What are you laughing about?” 

“I recognized it back during the attack but I didn’t fully think about it,” he said. “It comes out the most with your R’s. You’re not Ravkan, are you?”

You paused at his sudden subject change. “You were focusing on my accent when everyone was dying around us?” 

“Answer the question.” 

Your frown deepened. “I am in most senses of the word.”

Nikolai’s eyes narrowed. “You’re Kerch.”

Your lips twitched. “Yes, but I don’t—”

“You still haven’t lost the accent somehow,” he continued. “At least, in how you speak certain Ravkan words. Is it Ketterdam?”

“Don’t you have better things to do than quiz your Healer on her childhood?”

“Perhaps,” Nikolai said, eyes twinkling, “but if you’re really my Healer, as you said yourself, I’m surely allowed to ask as many questions as my heart desires.”

“Your heart desires no more,” you said wryly. “I have other injured to attend to. Call if you find yourself actively dying.”

To his credit, he didn’t try to fight it. Just offered that same smile that weakened knees from the Kaelish to the Shu. “I’ll be sure to ring before I’m dead and buried.”

“Put your clothes back on before you do,” you said.

“Ah, but isn’t this your reward for putting up with the irritating prince?” Nikolai asked with a slight gesture at his chest. “I’d imagine you’d want to keep an eye on your handiwork.”

That sparked a rare smile of your own, and you bowed your head. “Moi tsarevich,” you said before you walked off.

You felt Nikolai’s eyes on you even as you approached an injured First Army soldier, and after the first few preliminary questions you couldn’t help but look back. 

When you did, he was gone. 

3. Monastery of Sankt Demyan

You sat on the Spinning Wheel, off to the corner so you wouldn’t be disturbing anyone, staring at your hands as you tried to ignore the thousands of things bumping around in your mind. You’d been on the run with the Sun Summoner and a smattering of other Grisha for longer than you would have liked, but you had to accept that this was what life would be like until the Darkling was either defeated or destroyed you all. 

It was a damning sort of fate, knowing what awaited you unless the impossible was done. At least it would be quick if the nichevo’ya tore you apart. 

You grimaced. That was one thought that would do you no good—if you’d made it this far, from Os Alta under the Darkling’s control to Os Alta under Lantsov control to the White Cathedral and now to Fjerda of all places, what was one more piece of the puzzle? 

A very big piece of the puzzle, of course, and there was still the intrinsic distrust that some soldiers—and even Alina at moments, flickers of it you could see in her eyes against her will—had towards you. You, like the rest of the Grisha here that hailed from the Second Army, served the Darkling until you’d switched sides. You wanted nothing more than to see the Darkling to his grave, for Ravka to be restored and for all of this to be over. 

But you had switched sides in the first place, and you knew enough from the looks of those soldiers—they still believed that if you could betray the Darkling, you could always still betray the Sun Summoner if given enough cause. 

You didn’t try to dissuade their views through words; it wouldn’t do any good. You just hoped the long hours you spent holed up in the infirmary healing the injured would. You missed Maxim if only so you wouldn’t have to do it all alone. 

“Vlachka for your thoughts?” 

You looked up, surprised to see Nikolai Lantsov of all people. You hadn’t held a true conversation with him since you healed him after his bullet wound. He’d been busy with princely things like banishing his parents and saving Genya’s livelihood. 

You were thankful for that, at least. She’d suffered too much at the hands of the Darkling and the King. 

“You’d need a lot more than that,” you said. 

He smiled. “I’ve got quite a bit. Have you seen this place?” 

You chuckled and shrugged. “Just thinking. About our next move, about the Darkling, about what will be after this.” 

“You certainly aren’t the only one,” Nikolai said. “Lately it seems to be all anyone can think about.”

“I’m sure you’d much rather have them thinking of you,” you said wryly. 

“Oh, there’s plenty of that going on as well.” Nikolai smiled. “An even balance, I’d say.”

You chuckled again. “What brings you here, Nikolai?” 

He shrugged. “I wanted to get to know my Healer.” 

You huffed a sigh and looked away. “Why do you call me that?” 

He was awfully good at feigning innocence. “Call you what?” 

“My Healer,” you repeated. “Your Healer. I don’t understand it.” 

“I like the sound of it,” he said. “I’ll stop if you don’t like it.” 

You felt your cheeks heat and you felt his eyes on you. “It’s not that. It’s just—” 

“Because I can,” he continued. “Would you prefer lapushka? Milaya? Perhaps babya.”

You scowled as you turned back to him, and you hit him lightly on the shoulder. “You should stick to the seas and the throne, moi tsarevich. Comedy is not your strong suit.” 

“I like it when you call me that,” he mused. “I like your accent, your voice.” He sat down next to you, mildly unexpected, and you hoped you did better at hiding your surprise than it felt. “There’s something soothing about it.” 

“I am from Ketterdam,” you said after a moment. “You guessed right. Born and raised. When my abilities started showing, my parents put me on a ship to Ravka with a map, some vlachki, and the clothes on my back. I made my way to the Little Palace, pleaded my case to the Darkling, and I haven’t seen them since.”

Nikolai was silent, and you fully turned to look at him. “You wanted to know more about me. That’s who I am. A girl from Ketterdam in over her head.”

“Give yourself some credit,” Nikolai said. “You’re a woman from Ketterdam in over your head.” 

You huffed a laugh, and Nikolai’s expression softened a bit. “Why did they send you away? If that’s alright to ask, of course.” 

You shrugged. “Being a young girl in the Barrel is bad enough. If anyone figured out I was Grisha, I would either be dead in the streets, indentured before I could blink, or worse.”  

“They thought it would be safer in Ravka,” he guessed. “In the Second Army.” 

You nodded. “They couldn’t have known any of this would happen,” you said dryly. 

“Do you miss your parents?” he asked. 

“Every day,” you said quietly. “We sent letters when we could, but it was never enough. And those stopped after Alina left the Little Palace, obviously.” 

You didn’t need to recount the months of the Darkling’s madness as he searched for his Sun Summoner. Nikolai might have been Sturmhond at the time, but you didn’t doubt that he had contacts in the Little Palace. You didn’t exactly want to remember it either. 

“How about this?” Nikolai adjusted his position so he could look right at you, those smart hazel eyes enough to get lost in. You forced yourself not to. “On the slim chance that we make it through these next few weeks, when the dust has settled and I’m officially King, I’ll charter a ship for you back to Ketterdam.” 

Your head whirled back to look at him, eyes widening. There was no sign in his eyes of a false promise, only that soft smile, charming as ever. You had the sudden, misplaced urge to wind your fingers into those blonde curls and kiss him. 

“You’d do that for me?” 

He nodded. “Of course. Only the best for my Healer, right?” 

That got a laugh out of you, but the heat rose to your cheeks all the same. “That would be incredible, Nikolai. Thank you.” 

“Of course.” 

He looked—gazed— at you for a touch longer than usual before he spoke again. 

“There’s going to be a meteor shower later tonight,” Nikolai said. “One of my crew figured it out—he’s very fond of the sky, and he told me it would be… quite the sight.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. Was he—

“I’d like to watch it with you,” Nikolai continued. “Of course, I have to put on a display with Alina, but after that,” he looked over at you, hazel eyes gleaming, “I’d like to spend the night with you.” 

It took a moment for your brain to fully process his words. “Moi tsarevich, are… you asking me on a— a date?” 

“Just Nikolai, please,” he said with a grin. “And yes, I am.” 

It seemed so trivial in the scheme of things. You were leading an impossible battle against the Darkling, and as a traitor to his throne, you would end up dead or worse if he caught you. The near entirety of the Second Army was dead, friends you’d grown up and honed your power alongside with ripped apart by nichevo’ya. Your chances for victory relied on the firebird, and no one knew a damn thing about it. 

It was trivial. It was frankly ridiculous, for the prince— the King of Ravka—to be asking you on a date, especially when it was imperative for him to present a certain image with Alina. 

But for all the triviality and ridiculousness and idiocy, you found that you’d never wanted to accept something so badly. 

So you did. You nodded, smiled, brighter than usual. Nikolai seemed to have that effect on you. 

“I’d love to.” 

“Wonderful.” Somehow, impossibly, his grin grew bigger. Nikolai took your hand and pressed a delicate kiss to it before he stood back up—you’d never been so thankful for his confidence, because you found yourself at a loss for words. “I’ll see you tonight, darling. Try not to get into too much trouble without me.” 

You nodded again, and you knew you looked like a dazed idiot. The better half of a decade spent training as a Grisha and all it took was a kiss to your hand for your brain to stop working. You really had been at war for far too long. 

Nikolai could tell every thought—or lack thereof—in your head by the overly pleased expression he wore as he walked away, and your entire face burned as you bit back your smile. 

He knew exactly what he did to you. 

4. The Bittern 

Sergei sold you out. 

That son of bitch had betrayed you all to the Darkling the first chance he got, and he’d been rewarded with a quicker death than any of you would get. 

You’d been left fighting for your lives against the Darkling’s oprichniki, Grisha, and nichevo’ya alike, and as usual, you were hopelessly outnumbered. You knelt over Adrik as Zoya, Nadia, Harshaw, and David kept the crowd of enemies back, doing your damnedest to keep him from bleeding out from his nichevo’ya bite. 

His arm hung at a bizarre angle, and you didn’t know how you would tell him and his sister you didn’t think you could save it. You were sure Genya’s whispered words were the only thing keeping him even slightly calm.

By the time the Bittern was in the air, precarious but afloat, you were about ready to collapse. It had all been too damn much, with the Darkling and Baghra and Nevsky, and now the poor schoolboy lying beneath you with an arm you couldn’t save. 

“He’ll be okay,” you murmured to nobody but yourself, wiping beads of sweat from your forehead as you laid against the side of the ship. As okay as any boy who lost his arm to a shadow monster and went through what he just did. 

Thank the Saints for Tolya keeping both Adrik’s and your heart steady during that ordeal, because you were sure your panic would have won over. 

Everyone in your motley crew was injured in some way or another, and you were the only Healer. Soon you were back on your feet, pushing the horrors of the night out of your mind as you mended lacerations and fixed up bullet wounds. 

Every so often, your eyes would drift over to Adrik. You’d healed him the best you could, but it wasn’t enough. 

And then your mind went to Nikolai. 

Nikolai. 

In the chaos of the battle and the subsequent healing haze, you hadn’t even realized he wasn’t with your group. The Pelican had taken off before you all got to the Bittern, but Nikolai wouldn’t have left Alina on her own after all he’d done to ensure her safety. 

You were almost too scared to ask, but you did anyway. 

“Alina,” you asked, slightly surprised at the sound of your voice in the silence of the night, “where’s Nikolai?” 

Her eyes were unfocused, arms crossed around her midsection for warmth despite the light that glowed beneath her skin. “The Darkling,” she murmured. 

“Wh— what did he do to him?” you continued. “What in the Saints’ name happened to him, Alina?” 

“He ruined him,” she whispered. “He turned him into a monster.” The look on Alina’s face broke you into even smaller pieces. “He turned him into a monster all because Nikolai dared to stand against him. He’s gone.” 

Your grip tightened on the side of the ship as she explained what she had to watch, and your knees threatened to buckle. 

Maybe it was stupid, but you hadn’t even realized you cared this much about the prince. The king, you had to keep reminding yourself. But the thought of him hurt—a hurt that you couldn’t heal—it tore your heart to shreds. 

Only last night you were laying on a blanket next to him, staring up at the meteor shower through the glass dome. He’d never looked more beautiful than he did then, with the streaks of light illuminating his handsome features and those hazel eyes you’d grown to appreciate. 

Few words had passed between the two of you, but once Nikolai had taken your hand in his, neither of you let go for the remainder of the night. That urge to kiss him came back in spades, but you never acted on it. 

Saints, you wished you had. 

“Do you think you can heal him?” Your voice sounded oddly foreign, but you didn’t even feel like you were in your body. Like you were watching it all happen from above, because this couldn’t have been happening. Not to Nikolai— to your Nikolai. 

You were his Healer, and he was your Nikolai. That was how it was supposed to be. 

“I don’t know,” Alina admitted, her tone strained. “My light might be able to help, but… but whenever I’ve used it against the nichevo’ya, against the volcra, I— it kills them.” 

Her voice broke on the last few words, and you wanted to hug her. Alina didn’t love him, you knew that much, but anyone could tell she’d grown close to Nikolai over the months. She was hurting just as much as you. 

You didn’t. You found that you couldn’t do much but stare into the night sky.

He was all alone. Forced into a monster, and now he was all alone. 

It felt like ages before the Bittern finally landed, everyone’s teeth stained rust-orange and bones run deep with exhaustion. Everyone was still alive when you woke up the next morning, and after another check-up on Adrik, you went off into the woods under the guise of searching for kindling. 

Really, you needed some time to yourself. After what had happened—Sergei’s betrayal, losing even more Grisha when you had little to start with, Baghra’s sacrifice, Adrik and his arm, and— and Nikolai—

It was too much. It was just too damn much. 

You’d never gotten close like this to anyone before, never moved further than some useless flirtations and a few stolen kisses with various Grisha when you were bored back at the Little Palace, and when you finally did, with the damned future King of Ravka, this is what happened. 

Guilt tore away at you as you plodded through the woods, and you let the tears you’d been holding back all night fall. You wished you’d been there for him. You wished you’d kissed him. You wished you were strong enough to take the Darkling down on your own for what he’d done. 

The hairs stood up on the back of your neck, and you heard the rustling of branches. You whirled around to the source of the sound, taking a few steps to peer through the trees, and that was when you saw it. 

Your eyes widened and your heart cracked all at once. 

“Nikolai,” you whispered. 

You’d have recognized him anywhere. Despite the shadowy veins splintering across his chest, the wings furled behind his back, claws and fangs in place of fingers and teeth—he was still your Nikolai. His blonde curls remained, his sharp cheekbones and strong jaw, even his clever eyes—even if they were black instead of hazel. 

The smear of blood around his mouth was a sharp contrast to it all. You wondered what—or who—had become his unlucky victim when he could no longer control his hunger. 

Nikolai didn’t move as you stepped closer. His dark gaze was unreadable and you wanted to sob for what the Darkling had done to him. 

“It’s me.” You continued to speak softly as you moved closer, saying your name in hopes of even a spark of recognition. “Your Healer.” 

His eyes followed your movements, his gaze falling down to your hands. He pointed at them with a clawed talon.

You held them up. “My hands?” 

You realized the blood around his mouth wasn’t the only bit of it on his body as your eyes trailed across his bare chest. There were cuts all across his arms and chest, most small but some deeper. He pointed at a thin scar near his abdomen, the only sign of the bullet wound you’d stitched up. 

He wanted you to heal him. He knew who you were. 

This time, a small sob escaped you, and your hand flew up almost on instinct to cover it. You brushed the tears brimming in your eyes as you moved closer to him, and you gently placed your hand on his arm. You felt his limb stiffen for a moment before they relaxed, and you couldn’t help your small smile. Your Nikolai was still there. 

The thin cut vanished as you healed it, and you continued to do the same for the myriad of other injuries on his body. You felt his gaze on you the entire time, and some part of it was comforting. Nikolai was still there—his humanity was still there. This was the least you could do to make him feel the part. 

Once you’d healed up the last of his wounds, you felt the glow of Grisha power inside of you. Nikolai grabbed onto your hand the moment you’d finished, and you looked up into his dark eyes as your fingers clasped around his talons.

“We’ll figure this out, Nikolai,” you whispered. “I promise.”

The corner of his lips curled up ever so slightly, the barest sign of the old smile you’d grown to love.

And then he let go of your hand, and he shot up into the air. It took only seconds for him to disappear, but your gaze remained stuck in place. 

All you could think of was Nikolai’s dark eyes and the shattered shadows beneath his skin, the feel of his taloned hand in yours.  

You would find a way to bring him back. You knew that much. 

5. The Shadow Fold 

“For Saint’s sake— catch him, Zoya!” 

“You screeching at me isn’t helping,” she snarled, her hands held out above her as she summoned wind to break Nikolai’s fall. 

It was almost laughable, how Alina ended it all with a bit of stabbing. First Mal, then the Darkling—now Soldat Sol and oprichniki alike were glowing like human lamps around the Fold. The nichevo’ya dissolved with the Darkling’s power, the same thing that created Nikolai’s monster—you screamed in general when you first saw him falling, and then you screamed at Zoya. It was a credit to her growth that she didn’t slap you first. 

Thankfully, the updraft did its job, and he only landed in the sand at concerning speeds rather than very concerning. 

You ran for him without thinking, not even feeling the jolt in your ankles as you lept from the skiff onto the sands. You no longer had to fear the Fold—the various Sun Soldiers that had gotten Alina’s powers had done away with the remainder in no time—and even if you did, you would brave a thousand volcra for Nikolai. 

He looked so small, so vulnerable laying there in the sand, only clad in torn pants and a myriad of bruises. The last of the shadows receded when you finally reached him, and you didn’t try to stop the tears as they flowed freely down your cheeks. 

“Nikolai,” you whispered, falling to your knees in the sand next to him, “Nikolai, can you hear me?” 

You cradled his head in your hands, tears splattering in the sand around you, and then his eyes opened. 

His beautiful hazel eyes opened and looked right at you, his lips tugging into a smirk as he said your name. 

“Would you say this is an important princely thing?” His voice was husky, damaged from whatever dark thing that had taken a hold of him, but the usual lilt was there. “Or just another injury?” 

You broke into full on sobs, unabashedly and unashamed as you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a hug. You felt his arms around you as well, and he rubbed circles on your back. 

“I had time to think,” Nikolai murmured, “and I think I’ll settle on lapushka.” 

Darling. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, and you moved away from him just so you could look at him, gaze at him, never forget his beautiful features. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” 

“I knew I would be,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I had you looking out for me.” 

“Stop,” you said, your voice watery. “I can’t keep crying in front of you.” 

“I think you’ve more than earned it, lapushka.” 

You laughed again as you shook your head. “How do you feel? Can you still move all your limbs?” 

Nikolai took his hand in yours, fingers intertwining with yours. His gaze didn’t move from you. “Limbs are fine.” 

You let your smile shine unabashed as you squeezed his hand, thankful for the lack of talons. “Can you sit up?” 

Nikolai visibly winced at the effort, but he managed with your help. “My chest hurts quite a bit.” 

“You’ve definitely broken some ribs,” you murmured, “but it’s nothing I can’t fix up.” 

“There’s nothing you can’t fix,” Nikolai said. 

“Careful with all the praise. I might get used to it.” 

“Good.” 

You glanced over to see Tolya and Zoya moving across the sand towards you and you looked back at Nikolai. 

“We’re going to get you back on the skiff, Nikolai,” you said. “I’ll get you healed up and then we’ll get you some clothes. Alright?” 

“I told you,” Nikolai said, “this is your reward for putting up with the irritating prince.” 

“That was for the prince,” you said, running a hand through his blonde curls to untangle them. “My reward for putting up with irritating kings is to make sure they’re clothed and healed.” 

His smile shone brighter than anything Alina could conjure up. 

The Darkling’s Skiff 

You ended up below deck with Nikolai, Tolya, an unconscious Alina and Mal, and the Darkling’s body. It normally wouldn’t have been a cheery atmosphere, but you were just thankful to be alive after all you’d done. Thankful that Nikolai was alive and himself and that the Darkling was dead. 

A First Army uniform was folded next to Nikolai’s makeshift cot where you sat next to him, and Tolya’s companionable silence was appreciated as he stayed by Alina and Mal to ensure they stayed alive. 

“You broke a few ribs in your fall,” you murmured, your hands placed on his chest, “but overall, I’d say you made out pretty well.” 

“Yes,” Nikolai said wryly, looking at his hands. Faint black lines ran across each of his fingers, where claws had torn through his skin. Though the other shadowy marks had faded, these appeared to be permanent. “Pretty well.” 

“You know what I mean, Nikolai.” You moved your hand over his ribs and focused your power—by the slight grimace on his face, the itch that came along with Grisha healing, you knew they were mending back together. “You’re still alive. You’re you again. That means everything.” 

“And your hands are still freakishly cold,” he mused. You smiled. 

A moment passed before he spoke again. 

“You know,” Nikolai said, and you felt his eyes on you again, “I remember everything. Everything that I did when I was that… that thing.” 

Your throat bobbed, but you nodded, encouraging him on. 

“I went to you,” he said, “and… you helped me. You weren’t afraid—you understood what I meant, and you healed me.” 

“Of course I did,” you said softly. A smile tugged at your lips. “I am your Healer, after all.” 

Nikolai placed his hand over one of yours, and your power wavered for a moment as your heart stuttered. 

“One of your ribs is still broken, Nikolai,” you said. “I have to—” 

“I love you,” he interrupted. Your eyes snapped to him, and you thought you misheard him. 

“What?” 

“I love you,” he repeated, as if it came as easily to him as breathing. “Forgive me for the lack of ballads and sonnets on how to express it—I plan to remedy that as soon as we’re back in Os Alta. But I love you, and it’s the one thing I’m sure of at this moment.” 

You continued to stare at him, as if you’d suddenly forgotten how to speak. Nikolai was no Corporalnik, but you were sure he could hear how loudly your heart was beating. 

“It’s alright if you don’t feel the same,” Nikolai said, “or if you’re not ready. I’m a very patient man.” 

It was like your limbs had suddenly regained the ability to move, because something clicked in your mind. You took his face in your hands and you kissed him with a brazen fierceness you didn’t even know you had. 

For a man with two bruised ribs and one broken one, he kissed you back with the same intensity, if not more. You poured all your fear, all your anxiety, all your worries about him into the kiss, reveling in the warmth of his lips and his hands and—

Tolya cleared his throat. “We’re nearly out of the Fold.” 

You pulled away as quickly as it had started, Nikolai looking very pleased with himself as you fixed the collar of your kefta and looked over at him with eyes that were surely more pupil than iris. 

“Thank you, Tolya,” you said, and you cleared your throat as well. Good of him to ignore the two of you. Embarrassing of you to nearly forget about your surroundings when you looked at Nikolai. 

“Yes,” Nikolai said, mirth in his voice, “thank you, Tolya.”

You rolled your eyes as you turned back to him, your lips still burning from his kiss, and you settled your hands back on Nikolai’s chest. 

“No more interruptions,” you said. “I’ve got to get you healed and dressed before we’re off the sand.” 

His eyes twinkled. “Whatever you say, lapushka.” 

You had no idea what was next. The Sun Summoner died on the Fold, the Darkling’s reign of terror was finally over, and Nikolai was to be King. You didn’t know where you would fit in, though you were sure he would find a place. 

But you loved Nikolai, and by the Saints, Nikolai loved you. 

And for now, that was more than enough. 

[jules-ln]

Viktor is literally art nouveau

I was looking at Viktor's design in league of legends and it hit me, Viktor in Arcane IS Art Nouveau

Not literally but yes literally in a way lmao

Let me walk you through my thought process

I was looking at the league of legends design, and I thought that the fact that Viktor still had hair was weird if the whole point of Viktor is human bad machine good, then why does he has something as human as hair?

Then I thought about the Arcane Herald design, and it actually made more sense that this Viktor still had hair, why? Just look at his robots

The first thing that called my attention was their shoes, because those aren't normal heels, no, those are heelless heels! and let me tell you

1) Viktor isn't straight (no straight man would know and like those shoes, you can't fool me)

2) That's like the worst shoes you could ask for to fight/run in, do you know how easy is to fall with those shoes? No, they aren't practical, those shoes are merely for visual pleasure

And it doesn't seems like Viktor would be the kind of man that would put looks above functionality but then you think about how his designs in general have a very heavy preference for art nouveau; which, is also very much beauty over function

His robots have the asymmetry, A flowing organic shape, a preference for a feminine figure, the reference to flora on the patterns. They're are art nouveau bots and theres no way to deny that, and Viktor's Herald design is too, to some extent

Again, preference for a feminine figure, flowing organic shapes, his staff looks like a tree (kinda), asymmetry to some extent (not as much a his robots), hair (very important). You can reasonably say that it was at least inspired by art nouveau

Then we have the design of his room/house in the commune, it's pretty much art nouveau inspired too. I've seen some people say that Viktor made this to reference the Hexgates because he missed Jayce, but now I'm thinking, what if it wasn't that he missed Jayce, but more that the Hexgates were originally his design

And listen, I know I know, both worked on the hexgates, both should be credited equally, but realistically, I think it's fair to say that both of them probably had different levels of involvement on different things? So what if Viktor was the one with the original idea for the outside design and Jayce then added the art deco elements? Then Viktor repeated it on the commune with a more art nouveau style simply because he likes it?

And you might ask. Why does it matters? Why does the fact that Viktor likes art nouveau means that he's the personification of art nouveau?

Well; now to the point, I studied a little of art history on college, and I was a bit obsessed with art nouveau back then, and you know what was the goal of it?

Art nouveau was made to bring art to the common person, to have every day objects being a piece of art. It was supposed to get art away from the rich and to give it to everyone. But it failed

And you know why Art Nouveau failed and was quickly abandoned?

Two things, 1) it was too expensive, and 2) World War 1

So ironically Art Nouveau ended up being too expensive to reach the people they wanted to help so it stayed a rich people thing, and then it had to be abandoned almost completely because of WW1; there weren't enough materials to make it and a lot of people that became poor because of the war didn't have the money to spend on it

It was very short lived even when it made a big impact on history (That reminds me of someone)

Now compare art nouveau's history to what happened to Viktor (And Jayce)

They wanted to make magic accessible to the common people, to help; but it ended up being so that Hextech only helped people in Piltover to get richer while people in Zaun got worse and worse

Then something happened, a war, and both Viktor and Jayce had to abandon their dreams

Add to that the name art nouveau means new art, and in Spain it was called "Modernismo" Why? Because it wanted to be the future of art, young, refreshing, a bright future different from the past. Who else wanted to be the future of something? Men of progress who?

Viktor (and Jayce to some extent but I think he's more art deco lmao) IS Art Nouveau. It's his story

(And funnily enough, you can find art nouveau in Zaun, but I don't remember ever seeing art deco in Zaun, while it's the main thing on Piltover)

(Also also, I have some thoughts about Jayce being Art Deco, but that's for maaaybe later lmao)

Listen I'm a death of the author guy, I'm going to find meaning on my own. But either someone in the art department had to know the history of art nouveau and made a point of making it Viktor's main style (because it is Viktor's style, like I showed before), or it's just an extremely funny and fitting coincidence

[sweetkpopmusings]

felix coworker headcanons <3

a/n: i've got headspace focus music playing and i'm in my stray kids feels today so here is another coworker headcanons post !! this one realllllyyyy catapulted me into felix feelings, so i hope it brings you comfort and serotonin as well <333 pics not mine !!

content: fluff, nonidol!au | wc: 0.9k | warnings: none really! some mentions of food | pairing: coworker!felix x gn!reader | requests: open

oh sweet felix!! 

you’ll never forget his first day–the receptionist was walking him through the workspace, introducing him to everyone, and explaining their roles. felix, a genuine ray of sunshine on that gloomy monday morning, smiled and waved at everybody with pure enthusiasm :’-)

when the receptionist introduced you, felix pointed at the mug on your desk and commented on how cute he thought it was ! you could practically hear the exclamation points in his voice when he spoke :,-)

later in the day, you noticed he was struggling with the coffee machine how rude of the coffee machine

you offered to help–though admittedly, you didn’t know much about it either–and he was so so grateful someone was being this kind to him 

like he actually was so touched he ended up telling his friends about it that night :,-(

but anyways back to you and felix vs. the coffee machine

eventually you did get it working…you just pressed different buttons a ridiculous number of times until felix’s hot chocolate came out properly

once his mug was full, felix cheered and high-fived you, promising to pay you back one day for your service

you assured him that he doesn’t owe you anything and that you’re happy he isn’t defeated by the coffee machine on his first day

that led you two into a conversation about what it’s like to work here, the do’s and don’t’s of the office, the cool people, tips and tricks for boring meetings, and so on

felix looks up to you so much after this interaction :,,,,-)

he calls you his mentor <333 

it doesn’t matter that you work in completely different departments–even the person who is supposed to be mentoring felix refers to you as his mentor lmao

at the end of his probation period, felix bakes brownies for you because he swears he wouldn’t have survived this long without you to keep him company <33333333

you two share the brownies during your lunch break while watching silly little videos 

it’s so cute that everyone is jealous but they wouldn’t dare interrupt because they know for a FACT that you’re felix’s favorite

aside from being your personal baker, felix loves to play little pranks on you in the office

they’re super harmless–i’m talking pranks like leaving stickers in random places around your workspace, so you can transfer them to your laptop or water bottle whenever you find them–but he is THRILLED every time you get a surprised look on your face as a result of his antics

there’s no doubt in your mind that felix was behind it, so you look over to where he’s sitting and he’s just staring at you like >:^)

while he’s too far away for you to hear him, you know that he’s doing his classic little heh heh and plotting his next attack :,-)

felix also has cute polaroids at his desk !!

you get him one as a gift :,-) and he cherishes it so much !!!!

it’s displayed at the center of all his polaroids and he even wrote “from y/n <3” on the bottom of it so everyone knew it was his most special one :-( 

he encourages you to decorate your desk because he thinks it's important to have things that make you smile while you're working !! and he's so right for that

if you don’t know where to start, felix will dedicate an afternoon to making a mood board for inspiration

he loves nothing more than shopping online with you for the perfect items

felix gets so invested that he helps you to organize everything and workshops all possible setups before you both decide on the best one though honestly he’s more concerned about it being the optimal arrangement than you are lol

after your new desk decorations are complete, felix proudly takes a picture of you at your redesigned workstation

when you make that your profile pic for your work chatting platform, felix just about faints from happiness

he’s practically twirling his hair, giggling, and kicking his feet when he messages you “nice profile pic!!” :,,,,,-) <3333

felix, though known as being happy-go-lucky, is far more in-tune with your emotions than you realize

if you come in sleep-deprived, felix is the first one to ask you if you would like coffee/tea/a pick-me-up

when you’re feeling stressed due to an upcoming deadline or having a pile of work upon your return from vacation, felix stays late with you to prioritize all your tasks so you have a clear game plan

he’s also always, always, always reminding you to take breaks !!

it’s a mini tradition for you two to do desk stretches together :-( like you just look at each other from across the workspace and do the same stretches while making funny faces at each other and holding back all your giggles :-((((

activities and conversations with felix become so embedded in your daily routine that you can’t imagine how you got through the workday before he started here

one quiet afternoon when you two are hanging out in the breakroom, you ask him why he takes such good care of you

without missing a beat, felix smiles and answers, “i promised you i’d pay you back for helping me out with the coffee machine on my first day, didn’t i?”

all you can manage to do is smile and i’d be tearing up if i were you because, just by stepping into the breakroom and offering a hand, you met the brightest, sweetest, most loving man on the planet

little do you know, felix also can’t believe his luck in meeting someone as caring, reliable, and wonderful as you <333 

this is why, sitting in the breakroom where your friendship began, he pinky promises to stay by your side through coffee machine problems, stressful workdays, and whatever else life has in store for you :,-)))) 

oh i love felix so much i'm inconsolable my sweet baby angel </33

[aviradasa]

Hi hi again ! I just wanna say I ABSOLUTELY ADORE the chubby reader x Larry n' Sal hdcns you wrote !! It's very nice and comforting, and really made my night - I can't stop re-reading them :') . THANK YOUUU 👹🖤‼️

Anyway, I was wondering if you could do something similar to the chubby reader hdcns, but with an ADHD!reader ? Just some Larry n' Sal with an adhd having gf hdcns ! Pls & ty, ilyyy <3

(also, if you're not comfortable with writing these, or don't know abt the symptoms of adhd [with depression & anxiety symptoms, bc it's a big struggle for me personally lol], no pressure abt writing these hdcns !! Remember to eat and stay hydrated <333 !!!)

Heyyy I actually loved writing this as I've struggled for years with depression as well and me and my family have been unsure if it's Adhd or autism since I was a kid lmao So here is

Larry,sal x Adhd!Girlfriend!Reader (separate)

Sal:

Sal is really good with you

He's a really calming person to be around, so if you're really struggling that day, he's got you

If you're too hyperfocused and forget to take care of yourself, he will find a way to pull you away without bothering you. Even if it's just for a bit so you can eat or something

But if you have trouble focusing? Well, sals next to you and talking you through whatever you're trying to to.

He will even help you.

One day, you started frantically cleaning your room. Pulling stuff from the drawers pulling the stuff out from under your bed. Unloading your desk.

But then once you saw the amount of stuff, you kinda froze up. not sure where to even start.

You were honestly so overwhelmed you almost had a breakdown, but then sal walked into your guys' room, looking confused as shit asking you what's going on.

He waited patiently as you explained, and then he sat on the ground with you and started helping you organize everything,talking you through the process the entire time to keep you from getting more overwhelmed.

He's a damn angel

And once you guys got done and the room was back in order, you guys put on a movie and just passed out

If it's a day where you can't seem to sit still. He won't try to stop you.

Naw, he's saying ok come on, let's go to the apartments and run around checking on the ghost.

He doesn't try to hold you in place or stop you he tries to encourage you to do what you need to in a healthy way.

Also, if losing or misplacing things is a struggle for you, that's fine, don't worry.

Cause either he knows where it is or he's looking for it with you. And sometimes, when he sees something in an odd place, he will just grab it and put it where it should be.

And then when you need it, you don't have to go on a scavenger hunt.

On days where you can't seem to drag yourself outta bed or you're just not doing good with racing thoughts

He's with you. If you both have class that day, he will coax you out of bed,

and while you guys are driving there you guys will talk about it, and if you can't put it into words, he will just tell you stuff to get your mind off it

If you don't have class, he will lay with you, and you guys will just put on a show and chat, which makes you feel a bit better

He's like your other half at this point, and it's nice to have some calm when things get crazy

Overall, you both have a pretty good system, and if he's having issues, you help him out too, so it's a pretty win-win you

guys are great together

Larry:

Well, now Larry, I think, has a bit of it to but a little different. He's more on the hyper focus end.

He will get to painting or playing a game, and he's not moving from that spot until it's done, and if you are also hyper focused at the same time it can start off good but then can get a bit unhealthy

It's whoever comes out of it first that will snap the other out of it

But if you're having trouble focusing, he will do his best to help, but let's be honest, you both will probably end up distracted

One day, you were trying to work on a project for one of your classes and you were stuck because you had so much to do and didn't know where to start.

So you tried to put on some music. We'll that didn't work too well because now you're sitting there watching MTV music videos.

By the time Larry got back, you were spaced out at the screen with your project forgotten sitting next to you.

He asked you what it was, and when you told him, he asked if it was done and you ended up explaining that you got stuck.

Well, he sits down with you and takes a look at it and also kinda blanks. Then you guys started talking, and the conversation ventured off, and yall ended up rushing it the night before.

At least he tried lmao.

Now, if it's a hyper day for you guys and you're running around trying to do a bunch of stuff, he will probably roll a joint and give it to you like.

Smoke this.

After you do, it can have one of two reactions

1 you actually slow down and are able to chill for a bit, or 2 it just makes you wanna go on an adventure.

If it's the second you guys end up in a gas station getting snacks and then heading over to sals to bother him and his girl it's cool they don't mind lol.

Now, when it comes to misplaced objects it really fucks with larry. Like I said in my general Larry HCs, he's messy but in an organized way.

So if he's digging around trying to find a certain paintbrush and he ends up finding it in the living room instead of in his art area he it really fucks with him.

But he's not mad he's just more confused and like what the fuck I didn't put that there.

And if he asks you and you don't remember, then you guys jokingly blame the ghosts. You both know it probably wasn't them but it's a Lil inside joke.

Now, for days, you can't get up, he stays with you. He's either in the same boat or he just feels bad and understands. Sometimes, he will lay with you, and you both might smoke and talk to each other. Or he will put on a show or music and paint while you do you.

It's just nice to know he's there and that he cares.

Overall, you guys got a lot going on, but you guys manage it as well as you can and what's important is that you do it together 🖤

[the-moon-files]

YESSSSS I BEG GET INTO THE CULTURAL DIDFERENCES BETWEEN HYLIANS AND HUMANS 🙏🙏

...now ur just sweet talking me 🥰 /lh

Not years, well maybe 1 year-

but i have wanted to ramble desperately to smone, even the tumblr void if i had to, abt humans vs. hylians so much, esp with a guide reader or male reader bc whatdya know im into niche stuff that only u and like 2 other ppl like lmao ¯\(ツ)/¯

Anyway im so shocked, since ur like the third person to be interested in this and wanna hear abt it 🥺 🤲💌 here u go!! Hope u like it <333 👉👈

Sun: Masc!Reader (he/him)

Orbit: Humans are Not Hylians/Humans are Space Orcs AU, Headcanons-ish, long overall but each section is kinda short

Stars: Mostly worldbuilding! you've been warned, don't get mad me for not talking abt the boys too much✌️

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: mild cursing, mentions of private area/joke in the clothing headcanons, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

just some quick headcanons bc tbh i haven't given it too much thought, and i feel like I've been able to somewhat get into it in other posts? or maybe im thinking of stuff i have in my drafts idk-

Imma make another list, so buckle up for the short ride lol

Courting periods/dating/marriage

individual/small groups society-based hylians v. large personal groups/large community society-based humans

simpler foods hylians v. complex food humans

clothing modesty/style/relationships with fashion

fighting styles/strategies

entertainment complexity/differences

and language

☆

1st one, not much yet, im also making a separate post bc someone else asked me to talk abt that more 🥺

(tysm for all the enthusiastic asks guys <33)

anyway, basically hylian courting is a lot shorter, think “lesbians with the uhaul” type of energy, like sort of the classical medieval “does thee wish to pursue marriage with this one?” ← how hylians ask u out for the first time lmao

if it helps, they do tend to get to know one another well, talking about morals/kids/life goals/preferred lifestyle/house/etc. pretty clearly and quickly, then using the in between time to sort of stew on that information

id say the total time is sort of something like 6 months? maybe 3/4 if they're really compatible

(so bc i love interpreting video game logic for real world building, I actually blame this on how fast Zelda/link get together in games despite having sometimes never met before that moment lol)

like i said, ill be posting about this later

2nd one!!

pretty basic, just saying we don't really see hylians in big groups, despite the organizations they form, like kingdoms/knights or on a more personal level, towns/families/etc.

(once again, in-game appearances/video game logic translated to real life to draw these conclusions)

like not only are family units pretty small, like nuclear family setup, with like 2 parents and 2 kids, or single parent 1 kid type of situation, but the towns or collections of these families arent very big either

hylians kind of use their government the way it was intended lmao?

like the villages and towns matter more for everyday decisions than the kingdom/royalty, like Zelda would esstientally just be the mayor of Castle Town for those constant decisions,

while occasionally is called on to make decisions like for several towns or like is a natural disaster happens

meanwhile humans are, in comparison, in Way Bigger groups, both on an organization scale, and a personal scale

like u have all these specific branches of government, whereas im sure the population difference doesn't help,

and on a personal level, humans can easily have like multiple parents, lots of siblings, and once u combine that with each parent having family too, and those families like to meet up? All together??

yeah, itd look insane to any hylians (who’s smaller extended family may just make up their own village and that's it)

3. I've touched on this

like the use of spices, syrups, seasonings, etc

but also the complexity of dishes too, like chilling cream and mixing it for awhile to make ice cream, or even just getting ordering a pizza,

that's a lot of processing, like making the dough from flour and other ingredients, to letting it rise, to making the tomato paste, making cheese, then combining those things with any other toppings, all into one dish??

i like to think that hylians have only just started to touch on actual complicated cooking processes (as in BOTW, where they sell flour and salt, so people besides Link/Wild must know what to do with it)

this has the advantage of impressing any hylian with what a “creative genius” you are lol

4. look im just a fan of medieval time periods Links

so i think its funny if the hylians are used to like 4/3 layers and ur over here like, “wym, if i take off my shirt there's nothing underneath?”

one of them gets bold enough to ask, “d-do you not. do you not have undergarments??”

you “just my boxers? like just to cover my di-”

also this makes its easy to seduce people here? LMAO

clothes are def higher quality, after all there's not as many artificial processes or materials interfering,

plus u usually get some sick embroidery on it too!!

5. so like i get it, Link is the main fighter in games

but like, the few times there is a war/army in loz games, there's rlly not a lot of strategy, beyond just finding the enemy and fighting

tho im partial to that hylians/most inhabitants of Hyrule abide by the “lets meet up either literally by inviting each other or just between our territories to fight”

with occasional guerilla warfare (by any means necessary/stealth/ambush attacks/strategy) that's only rlly used either by Demise/Ganon, or by the wilder individuals/races in games

or maybe even the more civilized fighters in an emergency

and so that means by this logic that all of the Chain use kind of wild techniques compared to their race/kingdom lmao

id imagine its not too surprising to also see “every fight is a bar fight if its for my life” from individual travelers, so im sure they're not viewed too crazy (esp when ppl know their the hero that constantly has to deal with guerilla warfare from Ganon)

but its be hilarious to watch the reactions of both the Links realizing they’re in a bigger group that should be using “proper” fighting strategies and seeing the general publics reaction to this absolutely feral, armed to the teeth, trained hylians with their equally wild human lol

LMAO everyone thinks ur the reason they started using the more brutal fighting methods bc ur human, ur a bad influence lol

(humans would use it primarily, esp after we converted to use that method in warfare a couple hundred years ago i think?)

changing course a bit, hylians tend to use weapons (to compensate for difference in strength compared to humans, and since they don't experience/get a lesser version of adrenaline)

while humans tend to equally rely on weapons and our body as a weapon (marital arts/basic self-defense)

6. this is mostly bc the hylians only rlly seem to have the basics of music, books/stories, theater, and art

i have, surprise surprise, another post abt how i think this came to be,

mostly based on how human curiosity is indomitable and insatiable and the endless force that has not yet met its immovable object.

or at least an immovable object they haven't at least poked a little, out of curiosity lol

like we went to space for that reason, we reach the most dangerous corners of our planet (deep underwater/volcanoes) out of sheer curiousity/for the sake of simple knowledge of the thing

so needless to say, curiosity can absolutely drive any field to its limits, including the arts, which is why we can have stained glass, or movies/tv shows, hell, the marvel that is Hatsune Miku lmao

(fully for entertainment, a projection of light and sound, what is essentially magical illusions but u did it hte hard way, to the hylians)

on a different entertainment related note, i don't know if the hylians would be super into sports, or not really at all? mostly bc they have to use their fighting/training against real threats, not the sort of “fake” threats that sports are

but on the other hand i could see people like knights wanting to use their abilities for something other than violence and fighting bc their life or their villages lives depended on it

bet the Links would enjoy it for those reasons especially, what with at least sumo wrestling being a sport or activity for them at some point in history, and practically beg u for any new games to play, or to ref their games, bc whewwww

im sure they could get pretty competitive lol

7. obviously, their mostly influenced by the Japanese language

id almost like to imagine a sort of, if not outright Japanese (like with earlier heroes like Sky) then a sort of English-Japanese hybrid further along the line

sort of like how English has German/Greek/Latin roots and therefore u can see what words or structure comes from where, or even how u can understand a fair amount of basic words when other languages share the same roots (english, pants = spanish, pantalones)

would make for some funny miscommunications

or even better, most hylians liking ur unique accent or the Links love to hear u talk bc of it lol

☆

well the fever has broken, i am now free of the sickness that made me hack this up geez

i hope u got some enjoyment out of these my beloved anon!! esp since u were so nice as to ask abt it <33

hope u guys have a great weekend, look out for some more posts, bc its been great to get some more asks in lately and very motivating,

not to mention i actually have time to write now that my siblings graduated/we’ve moved several states over 💀

so i have reliable internet now too! sheesh :’)

Peace out,

🌙

[svltzmans]

take it out on me - h.m.

a/n: hi! i'm trying to get back into writing longer stuff that's not in headcanon format so let's see how that goes (also this was a requested prompt and 🫣🥵)

warnings: smut (18+), dirty talk, slight nipple play? minor overstimulation? hope is stressed :(, but not for long lmao, i accidentally deleted this whole thing and had to write it again, so sorry for any mistakes :(

hope's stress-filled lifestyle was getting to her, and she knew it.

being both a full time student and monster hunter wasn't exactly the easiest thing, but she thought she would be able to handle it with ease.

that was, until, malivore decided to bombard the salvatore school with creatures during the week of final exams.

hope was constantly getting pulled away from her studies by alaric, and although she knew she was protecting herself and those she loved, she couldn't help but be annoyed.

performing well in school had always been important to hope, and not being able to prepare had her brain in shambles.

when hope finally does get to sit down to study, she just can't focus. she has too many things to think about, and she just can't seem to organize herself.

closing her book in dismay, she throws herself onto her bed and stares at the ceiling.

she decides that if she's not going to be studying, she might as well have company. picking up her phone for the first time in what feels like hours, she sends a text to her girlfriend.

exams are stressing me out and i think i'd feel better with you here.

hope stares blankly for a few minutes, awaiting a response, until she hears the door to her bedroom open.

"hey beautiful," y/n says, plopping down on the bed next to hope.

"couldn't even get a text back?" hope teases, giving y/n a quick peck on the lips.

"i was a little busy running over here."

hope can't help but laugh, admiring the girl in front of her. she was wearing an oversized sweatshirt and joggers that made her look undeniably adorable.

when y/n speaks again, there's concern in her voice.

"so, stressed about your exams, huh?"

"i just can't focus on reading my textbooks. dr. saltzman has me running around what feels like the whole world, and i'm just exhausted."

y/n's heart twinges hearing the pain in hope's voice. she rests her hand on her girlfriend's leg, hoping to provide some comfort.

"he relies on you too much. i know you're like, a powerful force and he's just an old man, but..."

before y/n can finish her sentence, hope is laughing harder than she has in days.

"you always know how to make me feel better," hope smiles, looking into y/n's eyes.

"actually, speaking of that," y/n pauses. "i had an idea."

y/n stands up, never breaking eye contact with hope. hope stares up at her, confusion in her eyes, but her questions are answered when y/n takes her hoodie off, her joggers following shortly after.

hope is speechless when she sees her girlfriend in a set of deep red lace. the color compliments y/n's skin perfectly, the material extenuating hope's favorite parts of her.

"god, y/n," hope chokes out. "what's this all about?"

"i thought i could, help with the stress," y/n seduces, wrapping her legs around hope's waist and resting her hand on her girlfriend's face. "maybe you could take it out on me, huh?"

the second y/n finishes speaking, hope pulls her into a passionate kiss, y/n's hands still resting on her face.

"i knew you'd like this surprise," y/n teases in between kisses.

"you're so beautiful," hope responds, holding y/n's waist tightly.

"take it off, hope."

without another word, hope makes quick work of taking off y/n's lace bra and underwear, throwing them across her bedroom before doing the same to her own.

unable to help herself, hope cups y/n's chest, running her fingers lightly across her nipples. y/n lets out a guttural moan, her fingers in hope's hair.

"fuck, hope," y/n slurs before giving hope a gentle push, encouraging her to lay on her back.

"i'm gonna fuck you until you can't think of anything else but me, nevermind stress about anything," y/n whispers, lightly kissing hope's neck.

y/n continues kissing down hope's body until she lands at her inner thighs, peppering them in soft pecks.

"please, don't tease y/n. need this so bad," hope whimpers, trying to raise her hips enough to ride y/n's face.

"oh i know you need this, hope. you're so wet for me already," y/n coos, just barely running her finger up hope's pussy.

"please baby, want it so bad," hope moans, her desperation growing by the second.

"want what, pretty girl? you gotta tell me what you want, or i can't give it to you." y/n knows that bringing hope to the brink of insanity makes the entire experience more gratifying.

"i need you to eat me out, y/n," hope begs.

satisfied by hope's response, y/n's tongue finally makes contact with her, sending hope into a state of ecstacy immediately.

hope feels like she can't contain herself, not even attempting to keep her voice down. she pulls y/n closer by her hair, unable to get enough of her.

hope's moans only motivate y/n, her pace quickening with every noise out of hope's mouth.

"can't be stressed if you're busy cumming on my face, pretty girl," y/n teases, hearing hope only get louder at the sound of her words.

"you just, you feel so good y/n," hope writhes as she speaks, her voice shaking.

y/n is relentless, not wasting a second. she knows how badly hope needs this. how badly hope needs her.

luckily for hope, the feeling was mutual.

y/n was in awe of the way hope looked under her, the desperation and need vibrant in her eyes.

without hesitation, y/n thrusts a finger into hope, earning a near-scream from her girlfriend.

"oh god y/n, more," she whines, trying to coax the girl into adding another finger.

when she does, the combination of y/n's fingers and mouth are almost too much for hope, sensitivity coursing through her body.

"need to cum baby, can't take any more," hope whines, struggling to form a full sentence.

"then cum for me, beautiful. let it all out," y/n talks hope through her orgasm, enjoying every second of her reaction.

hope somewhat collapses, her legs lightly shaking and her cheeks flushed.

"i don't think i'm stressed anymore," hope laughs, y/n soon joining her.

"always here to help."

[irondad-defensesquad]

My Irondad fic recs!

I thought of doing this because why not? Admittedly, I'm not reading as much fanfiction as I did a couple years ago, but some fics have changed my life entirely. In case I forgot one, I'll add it later!

I would’ve organized this in a bullet list, but Tumblr hates me and invented a character limit for that. So this is going to be long and will be under the cut. Anyway, let’s do this!

Rare and Sweet As Cherry Wine by loubuttons – I've mentioned this one before, but this fic right here was what inspired me to write my own Irondad works. One very particular detail I like about it is how it portrays Maria, Tony's mother. It's not what I usually see in other fics about Tony's childhood, since they tend to make Howard the big bad parent. Of course, this is because I personally related to it, as I don't believe in the "bad parent vs. good parent". I also like that it praises Edwin Jarvis as the one who looked out for Tony the most. It's pretty realistic and a very melancholic character study, IMO. *TW for abuse and neglect*

You're Always Iron Man by madasthesea – a very short fic but I absolutely love the premise. Takes place after the big battle in Iron Man 2, and Tony finds little Peter again. They have a very endearing interaction. The following chapter is also very cute!

Nothing like a fresh cup of humiliation in the morning by madasthesea – Pure fluff! This one is probably a classic in the Irondad fandom. Tony kisses Peter's forehead without second thought. Shenanigans ensue. It's so adorable and funny. If you just want to read fluff without angst, this one is for you.

when my body won't hold me anymore (where will I go) by madasthesea - I think I heard about this fic thanks to @/irondadfics here on Tumblr, but I might be wrong since I already knew the Nice work, kid series. Anyway, Peter is believed to be dead, so Tony (and the rest of the Avengers team) is mourning him. In reality, Peter is astral projecting. You know, sort of like how Stephen Strange, in his first movie, was fighting a guy in the other dimension while his body on Earth was struggling to live. That's basically what happens. Strange appears, of course, and saves the day. And I pretty much LOVE the presumed dead trope. I don't know why. Maybe it's the angst of it all. *TW for grief/mourning and temporary character death*

The Reason by doctornineandthreequarters – I think I read this one when I was still writing Oh, take me back to the start. I was looking for fics for inspiration, and I found this one. During the Time Heist in Endgame, Tony remembers the reason he's fighting to bring everyone else back. It's very emotional.

Couch Cuddles by happyaspie – Classic sickfic, but with more fluff than anything. I like rereading it when I feel lonely and touch-starved, especially when I'm also sick like Peter.

You’re So Much Like Me (I’m Sorry) by SpaceCowboysFromMars – Irondad + Miles Morales! Peter is an adult in this, and he freaks out when an injured Miles arrives in his apartment. Tony gives him some wisdom about mentoring and parenting. I don’t usually find Irondad stories featuring Miles (and not necessarily a Spider-Verse crossover), so this was a nice discovery. Peter & Miles & Tony is a very underrated trio IMO. *TW for slight gore*

I'm Glad I Have You by punkybunny – Peter has been having a rough time, dealing with loneliness as Aunt May is not home often, and with bullying at school... until he finally has the chance to spend time with Tony. However, the demons don't disappear completely. Obviously, more Hurt/Comfort, lmao. *TW for nightmare/bad dream*

I Want to Trust You by punkybunny – Actually part of a series that, admittedly, I haven't read all the other stories. But even this one is a very interesting concept on its own. This is a Hydra Peter AU, after Peter has been rescued. He gets sick but given his past in Hydra, he thinks Tony is going to get angry. Peter is proven wrong when Tony helps him get better. The ending is very adorable. I'll see if I can read the rest of the series one day. *TW for past abuse and experimentation*

what you think I've done wrong by ironxprince – I don't often read Biodad stories as you all know, but I was, again, looking for inspiration for You keep me searching for a heart of gold, and I stumbled across this one. Basically Peter, as Tony's biological son, finally meets Howard. It goes as well as you think /sarcasm. *TW for physical abuse*

i, in time, will climb my mountain by ironxprince – This one is heavy. Once again, Peter is Tony's bio son, and he's suicidal. Every time Peter attempts suicide, he buys a new plant. Tony doesn't know this, so he's confused as to why there are so many plants in their house. I love this one, but of course, I try to read it when I’m not having a really bad day. *Once again, TW for suicide attempts*

how do you get that lonely (and nobody knows?) by parkrstark – Yeah... another heavy one. Peter attempts suicide but he saves himself before he reaches the ground. With that, he goes to Tony. This ends happily, don't worry. *TW for suicide attempt*

When You Can't Sleep by Emily_F6 – Pretty much Tony comforting a sleepy Peter, who has just had a nightmare about Thanos. Just Hurt/Comfort and domestic fluff. *TW for mention of death*

i get by (but it's eating me alive) by Livinei – Honestly, I think this is the BEST May's Abusive Boyfriend story I've ever read. For one, none of the characters are oblivious nor dismissive of Peter's feelings. May isn't neglectful and Ned actually tries to encourage Peter to tell someone. I also like that Peter isn't completely helpless. I don't usually see those things in other fics with this trope, sadly. And of course, Protective Tony is my weakness. *TW for emotional and physical abuse*

Hold Me Together by An_Odd_Idea – Post-Endgame where Tony is alive, and Peter and Tony are both trying to cope, so they rely on each other. Pure Hurt/Comfort.

A Tremendous Thing by ExpectoPatronum – Possibly one of my favorite Irondad stories EVER. Also post-Endgame with Alive Tony (though the author better explains it in the notes, it's supposed to be part of a series, but this story can be read on its own). There are a lot of references to Charlotte's Web if you're familiar with it. Basically, it's Father's Day and Peter is feeling guilty and out of place at Tony's lake house, even though everyone is readily trying to include him. It's absolutely beautiful and painful.

Hug You I Must by spiderwriting (catch_you_later) – Probably one of the first touch-starved Peter fics I've read. I like how it describes touch-starvation as this "itchy" current in your body, something that makes you anxious. Thankfully, Peter gets his hug later on. Plus there are some Star Wars references (the title probably is one, lol). *There's some minor violence here when Peter is fighting off some bad guys, but not the focus of the fic*

When You're There With No One There To Hold, I'll Be The Arms That Reach For You by Squibbles94 – Another touch-starved Peter fic. But I really like the references to Cast Away. Ironically I saw this movie in the same year the author published this fic (dare I say SHORTLY after it was posted). I also had no idea that Cast Away was entirely about isolation. Gosh, the main character's monologue at the end ALWAYS gets to me... anyway, yeah, the peak of the pandemic was awful to me, so reading fics like this one helped tons. It still does.

I am cold by N/A (orphan account) – Peter tries to visit Tony, but he gets lost in a subway tunnel on a freezing day. Eventually we learn why Peter wanted to see Tony, but overall this is mainly domestic fluff. Everything ends well.

Sorry Pedro by PinkEasterEggs – One of the first Irondad fics I read. Peter has a nightmare about Homecoming (mainly Toomes), but he avoids waking Tony for that reason. But thanks to F.R.I.D.A.Y's protocols, Peter goes to his mentor. Tony is also super soft here and it makes my heart swoon.

you are enough by diaz_evan – Another post-Endgame fic. Arguably I began reading Irondad fics only after Endgame released. Anyway, this one is short, kinda sad but it ends well. It’s Tony’s birthday and Peter feels very anxious about what to get him as a present. Thankfully, he doesn’t need to prove his love for Tony. *TW for panic attack*

Happy Father’s Day, Mr. Stark by downeylove – There are a lot of Father’s Day fics for these two, of course, but this one takes the cake for me. It’s simple but very endearing to me. Tony obviously doesn’t have good memories of this day, but Peter changes that for the first time. It’s really cute. Plus, Pepper is here, and I love her. I wish I could read more of her interacting with Peter. *TW for mentions of alcoholism and past child abuse*

5 Times Peter Didn’t Say He Was Struggling… And The One Time He Did by Bladam_Shevine – Again, an old fic I read years ago. I admit I haven’t re-read it in a while, but I remember enjoying it and even saving it to read offline. It’s basically what it says in the title: Peter struggles in many ways and he initially refuses help. Tony is always there to reassure him he can count on him. Bruce is here if you like him! And MJ helps Peter on one of the chapters as well. The chapters might get heavier as they go, but it ends on a hopeful note. *TW for injury, panic attack, suicide attempt (it doesn’t involve Peter), and depression*

The Good Days and the Bad by SoupGirlLovesSoup - Peter has had a bad day, now he's cuddling with Tony. It takes a while before Peter finally tells him what happened. It gets sad, but it's mostly fluff and it ends hopefully. I love re-reading it when I need the comfort. *TW for mention of suicide attempt, depression, and bullying*

Breathe Again by gwenoakley - Post-Endgame where Tony survives. He's recovering in the hospital and Peter finally reunites with him. Before that, though, we can feel the anxiety and trauma Peter feels. Definitely makes me emotional. It's the ending they deserved.

Popsicles and Playgrounds by ironfamjam - I can't believe I forgot to save this one in my bookmarks. I used to re-read this all the time! It's an AU where MIT student Tony meets a kid Peter. Eventually, Tony becomes Peter's babysitter! This is part of a series, which I still have to read fully. It's such a wholesome idea!! <3 *Howard's bad parenting is mostly mentioned*

Well, for now this is it! Again, I might add more fics here. I think I also could make a list of what particular concepts I want to read more in Irondad stories, so maybe you guys could give me your own recs. I might try to resume my habit of reading Irondad fics, because they give me a lot of comfort. Thanks for reading this far! I hope you enjoy any of the stories I included.

(I'm aware some authors here have their accounts on Tumblr, but I didn't want to annoy anyone by tagging them, so yeah 😅)

EDIT (June 4th, 2024): What Irondad fics I would like to read!

[yooglefics]

The casual type: 04 . The plans change

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader Wordcount: 4,832 words Genre ( for the whole series ): AU. College!verse. Strangers to friends with benefits to ???. Eventual smut. Hurt / comfort at times. Fluff for cute friends. Summary:  ( Series ) • Hobi and his girlfriend set you up with a friend of hers to help with whatever happened months back. However, no one really expected things to end the way they did. ( Ep. 04 ) • The night wasn't supposed to go like this, but there's nothing to complain about. Well, maybe a little. Warnings under read more.

Warnings ( for this ep ): The squad being annoying ( I <3 them ). Pet names ( princess , baby , doll ). Flirting. Making out. Grinding. Fingering. ( wash your hands, folks ). Yoongi's hands should be a warning. 1,1714 words of just smut and I literally don’t know how that happened lol. Author's note: The plans for this chapter also changed a lot because I only had like three notes for it lmao. Nevertheless, I'm excited to share it with all of you, thank you for sticking around and I hope you like this ep. Remember to leave a comment, send an ask, with your thoughts and also maybe reblog, and what not. As always, thank you for reading! <3

“No, the thing is, she doesn't want to share space. That's why,” Jimin accuses you from his position on the couch. Not being good at sharing himself since his whole body is on it.

“That's not true! I just don't want to be around sweaty boys.” 

“As if you don't sweat,” Jungkook argues.

“I don't.”

“She doesn't, she is a princess,” Is Yoongi's turn to pick on you. He called you that before at the club but this time surprises you since is in front of your friends and your relationship with each other has changed. And actually, you're supposed to be keeping that a secret from them.

“I love how she didn't argue that one,” says Jimin, chuckling.

“Because I am, duh.” You do an exaggerated flip of your ponytail while turning around, carrying another box of kitchenware to put away.

The guys finally decided to rent a house all together, and to make up for the fact that you refused to leave your dorm and follow them, you offered to help organize and decorate because, at the end of everything, you'd probably be spending a lot of time here. 

“You should have moved in with us,” You hear Hobi tell Yoongi after bringing more boxes inside the house. “Did you find a place?” 

“Yes, one of my classmates and his roommates were looking for someone. Is not too far away from here, actually.”

“That's cool. You guys can come over whenever.”

“You should come to the party tonight!” Taehyung says excitedly.

“Tonight?!” You walk out of the kitchen, a couple of glasses in your hands. “You're not even done downloading the truck. Jimin is not even moving!”

“I withdraw my offer for you to move in with us,” says your friend. “She is more like an evil step-sister,” he murmurs to Yoongi and he laughs along with everyone else.

“I hate you all.” 

Storming back into the kitchen, you decide to focus on putting everything away. Not a single thing that can be broken in sight of future drunk guests, that's why you are struggling to put mugs on cupboards you can barely reach.

“Do you need help, princess?” 

The nickname makes you almost drop Tae's last birthday present, and Yoongi is right there to catch you both. “Careful,” he says.

“Is your fault.”

“Did I scare you?” he chuckles, “Sorry.”

“You keep scaring me when you call me that,” you whisper.

“What? You don't like it?” Confused look on his face when he turns to you after putting the mug in place.

“I–why do you call me that?”

“Because sometimes you get kinda grumpy and you're cute, like a princess.”

It makes you smile, and it matches the one on his face.

“I'm going to ignore the fact that you called me grumpy,” you pretend to be upset about it, scrunching up your lips in fake dislike.

“Yeah, focus on the fact that you're cute.” you blush and he uses the excuse of grabbing another mug to get closer, making it so if you lean in a little you could steal a peck. 

But you still aren't sure about how the whole friends with benefits thing works. Nor confident enough to make a decision before Jungkook announces through the house: “the truck is empty, told you we could do it!”

And soon enough Yoongi is out of the room, helping move boxes here and there, and after everything that doesn't belong in the living room is out of it, he finally sits with you and Jimin on the sofa, you in the middle of the two.

“Are you really having a party today?” Yoongi asks.

“Of course! We have to baptize the place.”

“That sounds gross.” You say, noise scrunched.

“You're gross. That's not very princess-y of you,” says Jimin and Yoongi laughs.

“I feel gross, I'm going home to change. Do you want me to give you a ride to the dorms?”

“Yes, please!” 

You have thought about going alone, but after your failed kiss in the kitchen you wanted at least some time alone, and a car drive should be just enough. 

Or perhaps not. 

Because Yoongi drops you at your dorm and goes home to change, refusing to get close to you when he is all sweaty. 

You hit send with one hand and with the other make sure your door is open before sitting once again on the bed, grabbing your mirror and eyeliner to continue your routine.

“Hello?” He knocks a few times and you tell him to come in, all concentration on the task at hand. And that gives him time to look around a little, taking in your space. 

Is a large room, just looking a bit cramped thanks to the big pieces of furniture ( two beds, two dressers, and two desks ) but your method of putting everything against the walls definitely helps. That, and the fact that your roommate hasn't moved in yet. “Now I understand why you didn't want to move in with them. You have a room all for yourself?”

You laugh, “Their office was gonna be my room, actually. And no, this year I'm supposed to share it.”

“You didn't last year?”

“At the beginning I did. But then she paired with someone else.” You shrug, not sure about the details since you've only known her for a couple of weeks. “But it's not as cool as everyone thinks, sometimes it gets lonely, mostly on exam weeks when everyone is busy studying.”

“Well, you can invite me anytime.” He only partially jokes.

“Deal. But you've to bring snacks.” 

“Deal.”

Yoongi sits on your bed while waiting, scrolling on his phone and every now and then looking up to watch you apply the rest of your makeup, then perfume and pick a jacket, until you are standing in front of him with a smile as you announce you're ready. 

“That was faster than I thought,” he says, standing up. “Your eyes do look cute with the sparkle eyeshadow. Bogum was right.” 

“Oh, don't remember me that. I think that's the last time he is going to talk to me,” a sigh follows the exaggeration. 

“If he is really interested he is going to try again.”

“And if he is not?”

“Then he's not worth it.” The confidence in his voice is as contagious as his smile, and you match it.

For a second you wonder if it should be weird to talk about this with the guy you made out with just yesterday. If this is just normal encouragement because you are becoming friends or do all friends with benefits have this type of conversation?. Either way, you are glad to have someone to talk to about your little crush, and so, decide to not give it too much thought if Yoongi doesn't seem to do it either.

When he first asked you about it on Wednesday it was out of curiosity and you returned the phrase about the cat's tragic ending, receiving a “Well, I guess we are confidants now, kitten.”

You gave him a rundown of the situation and confessed about having a little bit of hope for his now teammate to invite you out again. He wished you the best and told you to let him know if something does happen because, according to him, Bo doesn't seem like the guy to be into sharing, and so, Yoongi doesn't want to be in the way.

“Maybe you should talk to him tonight. He is going, isn't he?”

“Uh, not sure. I asked Kook but I don't think he saw my text.” you turn to grab your phone and check.

But before you can open the app, Yoongi grabs your shoulders and guides you out the door, “Or we can just drive there and see.” 

You're surprised to see the motorcycle in the parking lot, thinking it had been just a thing of last week since you haven't seen him use it since then. You even wondered if it was his in the first place.

“What? Are you scared now?” He teases when you don't take the helmet he is holding in your direction. Just standing there without any movement. “You know I'm a good driver.”

“Yeah, I just… didn't expect it.”

He laughs at your genuine shock before explaining, “I always take it to parties because it's easier to find parking and get out of there whenever I want to.” 

“And I'm sure girls love it, too.”

“That's a plus,” He nods with a smirk, “but don't worry, baby, I’m not making you share tonight.”

“Shut up,” with your nose scrunched for good measure, you finally take the helmet from him. But instead of grabbing his own and getting ready, he gets closer to you, brushing your fingers with his when you're going to secure it and doing it for you instead.

“You tell me that a lot, you know.”

“You talk too much,” you defend, “it's your own fault.”

“Or… you just want to kiss me.”

Glad your smile is hidden by the helmet,  you push him a bit as you answer, "Actually, shut up.”

He laughs, and then goes on to put on and secure his helmet before claiming on the motorcycle and waiting for you. 

The shock about the vehicle wasn't only pure confusion, it was also the realization that your outfit was probably not the best choice. The fabric of your skirt was flowier than the one you used last time, and you aren't sure it would do well at a fast speed.

“Don't go too fast,” you ask him, hands on his shoulders to help you get on and sit behind him.

“I don't get that a lot,” he jokes, and you roll your eyes still fussing with your clothes. “You ready?” he waits for your signal before revving up the engine. 

He drives faster than last time. Or maybe you're just sober and more scared about it all. Your legs tighten on his sides, and your arms around his middle, all the while telling yourself is only to protect the wind from stealing your dignity. When he stops, you have to open your eyes to realize it is because of a red light and your body relaxes. 

Left hand leaves the throttle and goes to your tight, closer to your knee, the coldness of his fingers makes you jump and you feel him chuckle before caressing your skin. “You okay?” he asks loud enough to be heard through the street noises and your covered ears. You nod between his shoulder blades, even if your heart is racing. 

Remembering you had felt your phone ringing in your jacket pocket indicating a few texts, you figure there's enough time to check them before the light changes.

You show Yoongi and he gives you a thumbs down, making you laugh. Oh, well. Maybe it just wasn't made to be.

Thinking he would just drive you back to your dorm, you're surprised when he doesn't take the next turn back — is he driving to another party?

The answer comes only when he takes a turn before entering the highway. Right to the top of The Hill. Every teenager destination to run away from their problems. Every horny couple with a low budget looking for privacy, which yes, in itself destroys that very purpose. But, this is not a place to think about too much, even if there are also people who come here to think, like Yoongi.

He turns the engine off, puts down the stand, and takes off his helmet. You follow behind, curious.

“I figured we should make something out of being outside right now, the sun is about to set.” He looks at his watch and then to the front, at the view. From here you can see the city from above, at least a big part of it. Including the mountains and skylines.

“C’mon,” he pats your tight twice, asking you to get down. Complying, you use his shoulders for support again and get closer to the barricade at the edge. 

“C'mon,” you throw back to him when he doesn't follow you.

“I can see it from here.”

You frown at him, “really?” He nods. Your head tilts slightly to the side, “reeeally?” 

“Let a guy be.”

He looks… weird. 

And, suddenly, it clicks.

“I can't believe it.” You walk back to him, “Are you afraid of heights?!” 

“Don't make fun of me.” 

“I'm not!” But in fact you're fighting back a smile, “is just… unexpected.”

“Yeah. Unlike the death from falling from here to who knows where.” He reasons and you can't really argue with that.

But you can argue with him moving closer.

Grabbing his hand and pulling, amazed when you manage a few steps without problem, but soon he puts strength into it. The abrupt stop of his body pulls yours back, bringing you close to his chest, making a surprise noise cross your lips and your triumphant smile is gone.

“Don't make me leave you here,” and for a second you wonder if he really would. Wonder how much you can push before he actually gets mad. “Look!”

Your eyes stop scanning his face, following the direction he is looking at and you catch the sky changing colors for the next few minutes. Blue. Orange. Pink. Purple. Dark blue, because the lights of the city start to appear avoiding the complete darkness. But from here, you can see more stars than from your room's window and everything seems kind of infinity.

“Wow…” is a bit lame and predictable, but what else is there to say?

“Yeah. Is beautiful.” He agrees, hand finally letting go of yours and moving to your shoulder, “and you didn't have to stand at the line of death to see it.”

“So dramatic.” With an eye roll you turn to him. He appears calmer, with a smile playing on his lips as he keeps looking at the sky.

“What?” he asks.

You're in his room now, sitting on the bed Yoongi just told you he had to buy a mattress for because he used to dorm at his last university and didn't own one. You make no promises of not spilling any of your slushie on it and he laughs, tells you he will not forgive you and both of you know it’s not true. 

Going back to your room isn't a priority right now, you're having a good time talking about random things and siping your sugary drinks with a big bag of chips between the two. You were nervous about his roommates because apparently they are older and that scares you for some reason, but he reassures you they are busy with their own thing and he can drive you back before they arrive.

“Nothing.” But your eyes are still on his lips, on the color they are tinted thanks to the red drinks, “do you like it?”

“Is not bad. I prefer blueberry, though.” 

“I think this one is better,” you said that before at the store when you stopped for gas, convincing him to try it.

“Of course you think so, you love cherry things. I'd not be surprised if your favorite color is red just because of it.”

“How do you know that?” is surprising he says it with such security.

“It is?”

“No. I mean, yes,” you backtrack, “but how do you know that I love cherry things? Did the matchmakers tell you that?”

“Mai and Hobi?

You nod, too curious of his answer you miss the way his eyes are following your lips as they wrap around the straw.

“No. But you always have cherry candy with you. You gave us cherry lollipops on tuesday. I asked you for gum the other day and you gave me cherry. Jungkook gets you cherry cola specifically, from the vending machine at our building. And,” he pauses his list, the corner of his lip curving up, “like four out of the five times we've kissed, you either test or smell like cherry. Or both.”

“Well,” you answer after a couple seconds of silence, “I'm conscious now.”

He laughs, and you drink again.

“Don't be. Is like… your touch.”

“Ew,” noise scrunched up, “I don't know if I want that. Am I going to be known as the cherry girl?”

Again he laughs, your horrified expression making it impossible not to. 

“Do I smell like it right now?” Bringing your arm to your nose, you try smelling your clothes. Then your hair. 

“Stop,” he asks, reaching to put strains of hair back into place. “You smell good. Forget I said anything.”

“No, I can't. Now it’s in my head.” You try smelling your other arm, almost spilling your drink.

“Okay,” he catches it in time, tilting your hand back completely upright, “that way you really are going to taste like cherry and leave a trace behind.” 

“Wait. Do I really taste like it? When you kiss me, does it bother you?” 

“Why are you freaking out about this?” And seeing your seriousness, he bites back his chuckles.

“Just answer the question.”

“Okay, okay. Let's see,” and before you can process it, his lips are on yours, and he hums. “Can’t tell.” And he goes in again, free hand to the back of your head to bring you forward, to really capture your lips with his.

Running his tongue over your bottom lip sends shivers through your body since it’s warmer, softer. And a small moan escapes your lips, separating them and letting his tongue in. 

You're scared to move. Not because of him. But because you have been wanting to kiss him since sitting down — heck, since this morning — but didn't know how. All this feels so complicated in your head, with rules you have to follow and what not, but in practice, he makes it look so much easier. 

Of course you can't pull him for a kiss in your friends’ house, that is too risky. But when he kisses you like this, it gives you confidence to at least ask him to do it whenever you're alone and feel like it.

Somehow your hand is on his neck, fingers running through the hair at his nape as your mouths keep their rhythm going. And you decide to take the risk, kneeling on the bed and moving closer to him. You separate for a second only to make sure you're not making a mess and he smiles at you, “give me that.” Sipping one last time at the slushie, you give it to him to be secured and abandoned on his nightstand, bag of chips moves next and now his hands are free to pull you into his lap by your waist.

“You haven't answered the question,” you tell him, hands cupping his face, “Or you just wanted to kiss me?”

“Stop stealing my lines.”

“Is that a no?” You pretend to pull back and his hold tightness.

“You want me to say it?” a nod is your answer, and is a bit surprising when he obeys. “Yes. I wanted to kiss you,” and he does, making his point clear. “And also yes, you test like cherry sometimes,” another peck, “is sweeter now, but not so much like when is from your candies,” his voice gets lower each time, practically a whisper, “and your lips look amazing tinted red, I want to kiss you every time.”

And you make it happen. Kissing him softer this time, setting your own peace. Yoongi goes with it at first, but those thoughts he doesn't share with you are hard to keep on track when your hips grind against his. Not helping with the situation in his jeans. 

His hands hold you firmly, stopping your movements, and his lips move faster, fighting for dominance. He wants you and you know it and it gives you the confidence to move again. At first it was involuntarily, your body's own reaction to him, but then you put force into it, mostly to go against his hold. He groans into your mouth, feeling it rumble against your chest. 

Pushing his shoulders back, Yoongi finally gives in and lets go of your hips in order to help himself up with an arm behind him, other hand on your thigh. His eyes travel from there to your chest, moving as fast as his with your breathing, to your face, bottom lip between your teeth and his tongue touches his own in the same place. You just sit there, looking at each other for a few seconds until his hand moves up your leg, dragging the fabric of the skirt along. But he stops mid way, going back down. He chuckles at your reaction of puffing air as a sign of deception, “what's that?”

Prying your eyes from his hand is difficult, but you look at his face, smirk in place as he moves again, fingertips glassing over soft skin. “I should make you do it too,” he teases, “make you tell me what you think and what you want.”

The idea is both terrifying and a turn on at the same time. You have never vocally asked for anything like that, but the tone of his voice, the raspiness, it intoxicates you so much you may be willing to try.

“But I'm not mean like you, baby.” In one swift movement his hand is up your leg again, grabbing your butt and making your skirt rail up, exposing more of your thigh and you gasp as he bucks his hips upward.

“I’m not mean,” you breathe. 

“No?” Head tilts to the side, that playful smile of his should be a crime. “Are you a good girl?”

“I hate you.”

“So we are dirty talking,” he nods and you roll your eyes with a chuckle.

It hasn't been long, but you really like what you guys have. Is easy. Without drama or feelings being hurt. And, being completely honest, the way he kisses you is enough to know you make the right decision.

Do you still believe in soulmates and want to meet yours and live happily ever after like all the love stories you have consumed throughout your life? Yes. But maybe your story can also include an arc of exploring your sexuality with someone who is just a friend. Someone who gets your jokes and trusts you too. Someone who kisses you sooo good it takes your breath away without having to be scared of the future and what-ifs. 

Someone whose fingertips brush the top of your inner thighs, so close to their goal, but nothing more because he is waiting for you. Although it’s hard because of the little sounds that keep flowing out of your throat as you start moving your hips on his lap, grinding on his hardening erection.

He is kissing your neck, sucking here and there but not hard enough to leave marks, and his other hand has made its way down your t-shirt, looking for that skin to skin contact, glad both of your guys' jackets were abandoned way before at his bedroom’s entrance. 

“Tell me to stop and I'll,” Yoongi reminds against your skin and you nod, the hand under your skirt finally moving from its place and you miss the warmth it provided. But his fingers reach for the waistband of your panties and your breath hatch a little as they move south, thumb brushing over your clothed pussy. “Fuck.” 

You moan. At the touch, at his reaction to feeling you're wet. And before you can feel conscious about it, he is rubbing circles over it. “Ahh…”

“So responsive,” he groans, “Does it feel good?” 

You nod, unable to form words as he pushes gently over on your center, making your body move towards him, looking for more. And he gives it to you by sneaking his hand under your panties, ring finger sliding between your folds, a groan of his own accompanying your whimpers as he truly feels how wet you're.

“F-fuck. You feel so soft,” Yoongi points out and it makes a shiver run down your body, while he keeps rubbing expertly, cupping your pussy when even without realizing your hips start moving again, looking for more friction.

“Y-yoongi,” you call, asking for more. 

For a second you think he doesn't get it because he takes his hand out, however is only to bring his ring and middle finger to his mouth, humming around them without breaking eye contact. Brown irises over taken by desire and you could've gotten lost on that look alone, but soon his hand goes back to its place between your legs, “Breathe,” he instructs, “tell me if it hurts.”

And it does, a little. Because you're not used to it and every touch is a bit overwhelming, all the same, he is gentle, one finger pushing in slowly and not all the way before going back. Your eyes close under his gaze, inspecting your reaction as he pushes in again, letting you get used to the feeling. 

“Is it good?” his lips go back to your neck, kissing his way up to your lips. 

“S-so good,” you smile against his mouth, “you can go on.”

And he moans against yours before adding another one, two digits inside you.

The thing about Yoongi is: he is a pleaser. He likes making his partners feel good and the way your lips part as he pushes into your pussy makes him weak. He knows that if you asked him to finger you all night he would, no questions asked.

But he also knows you don't have much time. That's why you are still sitting on his lap and not laying on his bed, and why he kept your clothes on even if is now regretting it.

His eyes travel down your body, to your hand in a fist with the fabric of your clothes. “Pull it up, doll.” Yoongi requests. “Your skirt. Let me see you.” 

You do, the carmine color on your cheeks even deeper as your sight is filled with his hand movements. 

“...so hot, taking my fingers so good.” He murmurs, hand on your lower back holding you in place as he picks up the peace. Feeling how your walls tighten around him every time he pushes in and his dick requests attention at the thought of fucking you properly. If only he had time.

“Fuck, fuck, fuc-” is your new mantra as his fingers move expertly, breaking into incohesive moans when they touch the bundle of muscle that makes you see stars. 

“I got you,” he says, “f-fuck, so pretty, baby.” Yoongi's voice is so gentle and still filled with lust as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, getting you closer and closer to the end. “C’mon, let me see you cum, y/n.”

And that's all you need, hear your name so out of breath, to practically hit your orgasm on command. Head tilted back and lip between your teeth to suppress any noises, ignoring the voice of reason in your head that tells you is a bit late for that.

When you open your eyes again Yoongi's fingers are back in his mouth, sucking yourself off of them, and even if you just reached your high, you can't help the way your pussy reacts to that.

Catching you staring, he winks at you. 

And before you can decide the next move, your ringtone fills the silence, almost making you jump out of his lap. He chuckles, “Careful,” freeing you from his hands as you reach for your phone.

“Yes?” You answer, free hand fixing your clothes and putting black strains in place, trying to shake the feeling of being caught.

“Hi. Sorry about the time, my flight got canceled and then the next one took hours and—” taking the phone away from your ear, you realize that in the heat of the moment you didn't even notice it was an unknown number and not one of the guys. You're about to say they probably got the wrong number but the person keeps talking and it feels rude to just cut them off. “...but I'll have to wait until tomorrow. So apparently you're the only one with a key now and they said you were here but I knocked and well, I don't know if you were sleeping or…?” 

It takes you a second to process they do want you to talk now. “Sorry. I don't think I'm who you're looking for.”

“Are you not y/n?”

“Yes…” you turn to Yoongi, confused expression matching yours. “Who are you?”

“Oh, shit. I forgot to introduce myself, didn't I?” You nod even if it can't be seen through the phone, “I'm Subin. Your new roommate.”

A/N: AAAAAAHHHHHH pls don't call Subin a cockblocker ㅠ^ㅠ even if she would call herself that if she knew hahah. A/N 2: ALSO, I decided to try something new with the format of showing the texting, so please tell me your opinion, do you like it as screenshots or prefer it to be typed down? or is the same either way? Send a tip on ko-fi?? ( Only if you can and don't feel pressured to do it! )

♡ Tag list: @n33mesis , @mggv97 , @wobblewobble822 , @bbou-doir , @m00njinnie , @nariee02 , @sexytholland , @itsmina29 , @ktownshizzle , @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d , @kimtaehussy .

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[qqueenofhades]

what gets me is whenever any of these people says not to vote, and you ask them what the alternative is, they usually throw some tantrum about how it shouldn't be their job to fix this country and they're not expected to know (or start calling you a neoliberal or a bootlicker lmao) and i just. i don't get that? not voting, especially in the current climate, is a big deal. i don't think it's unreasonable to ask anyone who advocates for that what the alternative is. i'm not expecting you, online leftist, to magically know how to fix everything. i am expecting something from you if you're gonna tell me not to vote, especially when we both know that helps the gop. like, how dare we ask them to defend this big choice they're telling us to make?

their position boils down to helping trump and the republicans but any time you remind them of that they get upset. what is the alternative? what plan do they have? it would be one thing if there was another option that they'd come up with, but they haven't and don't seem interested in doing so. mutual aid and organizing is only going to take us so far and it'll be a hell of a lot easier to do it with biden in office than trump

The whole "it doesn't matter who's president/in charge of the government because mutual aid and organizing is the only valid way to do community engagement" is the leftist version of the Brexit nutcases who, and I swear I am not making this up, argued that it was fine if the UK left the EU trading sphere/single market/customs union with nothing to replace it, because "Britain is a nation of farmers and can grow food in our back gardens!!!!" Yes, because you're so devoted to your stupid ideology that you think the large-scale collapse of society, a major world power, a western democracy, and everything else will have no effect, and you can just do your little Facebook mutual aid groups and happily shout on Twitter at anyone who disagrees with you. Never mind the fact that this would obviously and immediately harm vulnerable people the most and that nobody, not even the Online Leftists themselves, actually wants to live in the Violent Revolution Total Anarchy World they masturbate to. Maybe this makes me a neoliberal corporate shill, but I'd rather that the world got better, instead of worse. I would actually prefer that myself, my friends, my family, my whole life, the whole country, and the rest of the world wasn't sacrificed on the Great Revolution Altar, but I shouldn't worry. We have mutual aid. At least as long as a) you have never said anything the Online Leftists even slightly disagree with, since they're sure as hell not the kind of people I would trust to have my back in any large-scale societal collapse, and b) I guess they'll all be growing food in their back gardens too, rather than using any of those dirty "government" or "society" things to supply their basic needs. We're saved! No need to worry. Bring on the anarchy.

Aside from the fact that Online Leftists, as I have said before, think that moral action begins and ends with posting the Right Opinions on social media at the correct timeframe and any other action or engagement with a flawed system or basic reality is heresy, they don't like being challenged -- i.e. "if we don't vote, then what do we do?" -- because a) it questions their authority as supreme arbiters of morality, and b) it means that there should actually be an action in place of cutting out something so consequential as voting, which likewise clashes with their "everything will be fixed by Magical Thinking" viewpoint. They don't want to be asked what to do in place of voting, or in anything at all; they want to think their correct thoughts and judge anyone who doesn't, regardless of how logically incoherent these things are or the inevitable outcome of those decisions, because nothing bad is ever their fault, or even the Republicans' fault, or anyone else at all except for the Democrats and/or "the West." I mean, yeah, if they're going around to preach the Don't Vote Because It's Actually Evil gospel, it's the bare fucking minimum to expect that they have something to offer in return besides Ye Olde Bolshevik cosplay fantasies. Since they don't, they get tetchy when you point that out.

Also, while I know it's the social media fashion that everything has to be the worst thing ever and we have plenty of the "Biden is also a genocidal fascist but I guess vote for him or something" utterly-minimum-standard posts going around, I will point out why that rhetoric is a) wrong and b) unhelpful. (Not that I expect it will make a single difference to anyone who has to get their internet cred by yelling about how Biden is a fascist, but still.) No, Biden is not a fascist by any logical definition of the word, you would have to do a lot of work to convince me that he is personally genocidal beyond what is demanded of any post-1948 American president who exists in an extremely complicated international sphere with long-standing alliances (such as, yes, with Israel) and indeed not quite a bit more progressive than literally every one of his predecessors, and it makes those actual words useless. If you claim that "Biden and Trump are both genocidal fascists," you are utterly effacing those categories as any kind of critical or useful distinction. You can't argue for any difference, you can't point out policy essentials or nuances, you can't make the most basic of empirical observances or come to a judgment on whether any part of that statement is true, because language has been deliberately stripped of meaning and used to score Cool Internet Leftist points. How can we explain what fascism or genocide actually are and what to do about them, if it's just what you call everyone as a matter of course whenever they disagree with you? You can't. That's the point.

Once again: I strongly disagree with the idea of just giving Israel/Netanyahu a blank check to keep committing atrocities, but I also need to repeatedly point out that Biden isn't doing that. His initial unconditional support of Israel after October 7 (which at the time was the correct response) has shifted to a much more measured and conditional approach where he has muted the overtly pro-Israel statements and started talking about a two-state solution and the need to protect the lives of civilians and trying to keep a lid on what could become a REALLY bad situation with all kinds of war-hungry powers eager to jump into the Middle East and blow it completely to hell. As I have said in my other posts, Trump will not do this. Trump will do the exact opposite. Which is why Netanyahu, who doesn't like having his hands tied precisely in the way Biden is doing, is trying so hard to get Trump back in. This also extends to the people who think that the West/the U.S. is the source of all evil in the world, but they're somehow the only people that can make actual choices or have real agency. Everyone else is just an American puppet; everyone is being lied to or manipulated by America/the West; nobody ever chose anything of their own free will; America/the West could roll in and put a stop to everything bad if they "really wanted to," but choose not to because etc. etc., Evil. As such, this completely fact-free belief is basically the central starting point for Online Leftism, which as I have also said, is now beyond useless and verging on just as deranged and actively dangerous as the fascists, especially since they are 100% willing to enable far-right fascism however and whenever they can because something something, That Will Show Us.

Anyway. Yes. Whew.