#this is STILL not the first one i was working on btw | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gf2bellamy · 2 days ago

Note

Hi!!

I’m back with another request because I loved the last one (thank you btw)

Essentially Reader and Spencer are in a secret relationship due to the fact they both work for the BAU. However, someone in the BAU (I don’t really mind who) notices that Spencer starts doing things for Reader that he didn’t do before (carrying around her favourite candies or helping her with her go bag). That person proceeds to try and get a confession out of the two of them/ confront them

hopefully that makes sense, and I apologize if it doesn’t.

Thanks!! 🫶🏻

-B

observation — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing i think ? a/n: hii B !! thank you for your request <33 I had so much fun writing this i love penelope so much

“Thank you,” you said with a warm smile as you took the coffee from Spencer’s outstretched hand, fingers brushing briefly against his. He had remembered exactly how you liked it, down to the smallest detail, just as he always did. Your gaze flickered down to the other item in his grasp—a familiar, perfectly frosted donut from your favorite bakery. You accepted it with a grateful hum.

“You’re an angel,” you sighed contentedly, sinking your teeth into the soft pastry.

He didn’t say anything at first, just offered you that small, knowing smile, the one that made your chest feel a little lighter. His hazel eyes lingered on you for a second longer than necessary before he gave a slight nod and turned back toward his desk.

Across the bullpen, Penelope Garcia perched on the edge of Derek Morgan’s desk, idly twirling a pen between her fingers.

She hadn’t been paying much attention at first—her mind had been occupied with whatever conversation she and Derek had been having—but something about the moment between you and Spencer made her pause.

It wasn’t unusual for Spencer to do kind things for you; in fact, it had almost become routine. But there was something different this time. Something in the way he looked at you, the way your eyes met his in that brief exchange.

It was subtle—maybe too subtle for most people to notice—but Penelope was observant. And she knew a meaningful glance when she saw one.

Narrowing her eyes, she tilted her head slightly, watching as Spencer settled back at his desk, his posture a little too relaxed, his focus not entirely on the file in front of him. Then she looked back at you—still happily munching on your donut, a barely-there smile lingering on your lips.

Oh.

Penelope’s eyes widened slightly as realization dawned, but just as quickly as the thought entered her mind, she shook her head, pushing it aside. Maybe she was imagining things. Maybe she was reading too much into it.

Still… she made a mental note to keep an eye on the two of you.

Just in case.

For now, she turned back to Derek, who was watching her with an amused smirk.

“Something on your mind, Baby Girl?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Penelope pursed her lips, stealing one last glance at you and Spencer before turning back to Derek with a dramatic sigh.

“Oh, nothing,” she mused. “Just… observing.”

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s never just ‘nothing’ with you.”

Penelope only smirked in response, filing her suspicions away for later.

The next time Penelope’s curiosity was piqued was when the entire BAU team was making their way to the jet. It wasn’t often that she had to join them on cases, but when her technical expertise was needed in the field, she had no choice but to trade her cozy tech lair for the fast-paced world of profiling.

As she strolled alongside Derek, chattering about the latest tech upgrades she wanted for her office, something caught her attention.

Spencer.

More specifically, Spencer carrying your go-bag.

Her eyebrows lifted as she watched him adjust the strap over his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. You walked beside him, laughing softly at something he had said. He was smiling, too—not the awkward, barely-there smile ,but the warm, comfortable kind.

Huh.

Penelope’s eyes narrowed slightly behind her glasses. Her eyes were locked on the two of you as you boarded the jet.

And that’s when she nearly lost it.

Because, oh. Oh.

You sat down next to Spencer—nothing unusual about that—but the way you did it made her jaw nearly hit the floor.

Legs touching. No space. At all.

Not even the usual “oh, it’s a tight fit” kind of situation—there was plenty of room on the jet. But you? You had chosen to sit so close that if one of you so much as moved an inch, you'd basically be in each other’s laps.

Penelope turned her head slowly, as if to make sure she wasn’t the only one seeing this. But the rest of the team didn’t seem to think anything of it. Emily was already flipping through the case file, Rossi was drinking his coffee, and Hotch, well—Hotch probably knew but was choosing not to acknowledge it.

She turned back just in time to see Spencer shift slightly, angling his body toward you as he mumbled something. You responded with a soft chuckle, nudging his arm playfully.

That was it.

That was the moment Penelope Garcia officially entered investigation mode.

“Oh, this is interesting,” she murmured to herself, a slow grin spreading across her face.

Derek, who had been about to sit down, paused mid-motion. “What’s interesting?”

Penelope shook her head, plastering on her most innocent expression. “Oh, nothing at all, my delicious chocolate thunder,” she cooed, reaching over to pat his cheek.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay. I know that look, sweetheart. Spill.”

But Penelope just hummed, settling into her seat with a knowing smirk.

Oh, she was going to figure this out.

And when she did?

Oh, you and Spencer were never going to hear the end of it.

The next time something happened was a couple days later.

Penelope had seen a lot of things in her time at the BAU—gruesome crime scenes, mind-bending mysteries, and things that made her want to bleach her brain—but this?

This was something else entirely.

She had suspicions, of course. She wasn’t the team’s resident gossip queen for nothing. She noticed the little things—the way Spencer always seemed to hover a little too close to you and the way you looked at him like he personally hung the stars.

But this? This was undeniable.

Garcia had just stepped out of her office, stretching after a long day of staring at computer screens, when she spotted you and Spencer waiting by the elevator. At first, she didn’t think much of it—just two coworkers leaving at the same time. Normal. Totally fine.

And then she saw it.

Spencer’s hand.

On your lower back.

The casual intimacy of it made her stop in her tracks.

And just when she thought she couldn’t possibly be more stunned—he leaned in and kissed your temple.

Kissed. Your. Temple.

Before she could even react, the elevator doors slid open, and you both stepped inside, completely oblivious to the fact that Penelope Garcia had just witnessed the biggest secret of the year.

She stood frozen in the hallway, her mouth slightly open, her mind racing.

No. No, no, no. She had to be hallucinating. Maybe she had spent too much time staring at screens and was now seeing things. Maybe someone had slipped something into her coffee.

But no. This was real.

Her hands flew to her mouth, suppressing the squeal threatening to burst out of her.

“Oh. My. God,” she whispered to herself, eyes wide with a mix of shock and happiness.

The entire night, Penelope tossed and turned in bed, her mind racing with one singular thought—How did you and Spencer hide this for so long?

She prided herself on knowing everything about her team. Not just their work habits, but their favorite coffee orders, their comfort movies, even the ridiculous little quirks that made them who they were.

But somehow, somehow, she had completely missed the fact that Spencer Reid had been in a secret relationship with you—for who knows how long.

It was unacceptable.

So, instead of getting a good night’s sleep, she lay awake, replaying every interaction, every inside joke, every moment she had brushed off as just “friendship.”

And now? Now it all made sense.

By the time morning came, she had given up entirely on rest and got to work earlier than anyone—which, for her, was unheard of.

Hotch had to do a double-take when he walked into the bullpen, his brows lifting slightly at the sight of Garcia standing there, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently against the floor.

He debated asking.

Then decided, Nope. Not his business.

With a subtle shake of his head, he continued toward his office.

Garcia, meanwhile, was waiting like a hunter tracking its prey. She was ready. The moment you and Spencer stepped foot into the bullpen, looking far too relaxed for people harboring a massive secret, she pounced.

“Finally!” she exclaimed, her voice cutting through the quiet morning air.

Both you and Spencer froze mid-step, your expressions instantly shifting into matching looks of confusion.

“Uh… good morning to you too, Pen?” you said hesitantly, giving her a small smile.

You walked toward your desk—right across from Spencer’s—placing your bag down and shrugging off your jacket. But before you could settle in, Penelope cut in with a pointed, “You two. We need to have a talk.”

Spencer blinked. “About what?”

She scoffed, throwing her arms up. “Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Doctor Reid.” She turned to you. “And you! I expect this kind of top-secret, under-the-radar stealth mode from him, but you? I thought we were closer than that!”

You blinked, completely lost. “Penelope, we have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Penelope scoffed again, crossing her arms as she glared at the two of you. “I’m so mad at you,” she huffed.

“Why?” Spencer asked immediately, concern lacing his voice. His brows furrowed as he glanced between you and Garcia.

Penelope’s glare deepened. “Why? Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you two have been sneaking around behind my back for—who knows how long?! And I had to find out on my own?”

You felt heat creep up your neck. “We weren’t sneaking—”

“Oh, please,” she cut you off, waving her hand. “I saw him kiss your temple last night at the elevator! I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, all googly-eyed and disgustingly adorable—and yet, nobody told me? Your best friend?”

You and Spencer exchanged a look, and even without speaking, you knew you were both thinking the same thing.

Busted.

You sighed, rubbing your arm. “Okay, yeah… we’re together.”

Penelope gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “I knew it!”

Spencer cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with all the attention. “But—Garcia, please don’t tell anyone,” he said quickly, adjusting his bag strap.

Garcia’s mouth fell open in offense. “Excuse me?”

“Please,” you added, stepping forward with a pleading look. “We just… we wanted to keep it private for now. It’s not that we didn’t want to tell you, we just—we weren’t ready for everyone to know yet.”

Penelope stared at you both for a long moment, lips pursed, clearly debating whether to accept this explanation or not.

Then, finally, with a dramatic sigh, she rolled her eyes. “Fine. I won’t tell anyone.”

Spencer let out a relieved breath, and you smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”

“But,” she added sharply, pointing a finger between the two of you, “I expect to be the first one to know when you are ready to go public. I want details, I want stories, I want all the romantic fluff I was robbed of for—how long?”

You bit your lip. “…Almost a year.”

Her jaw dropped. “A Year?!”

You winced. “Uh… surprise?”

Garcia groaned, throwing her head back. “I cannot believe I missed an entire year of cuteness. This is a disaster.”

Spencer shifted awkwardly. “Well, statistically speaking, keeping a secret this long in a workplace environment is actually quite rare—”

“Oh, don’t you dare start throwing statistics at me, Doctor Love,” Garcia interrupted, narrowing her eyes. Then, her face softened as she let out a dramatic sigh. “Ugh, you two are so lucky I love you.”

You grinned. “We really are.”

Garcia huffed but smiled anyway. “Now go, before I change my mind and announce it to everyone.”

You and Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. With one last grateful look at her, you turned to head toward your desks, your shoulders brushing as you walked.

Garcia watched you go, shaking her head with an affectionate smile.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x you #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fic

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shimmernspice · 2 days ago

Note

Can we perhaps get a vi x chubby!reader? Maybe it’s readers first time and they’re a little self conscious about it? I feel like there’s not a lot of them out there! (at least pertaining to Arcane) Love your work btw💫

Soft to the Touch

pairing: Vi x reader

warnings: 18+, smut, vaginal fingering (r receiving), oral sex (r receiving), body insecurity/self doubt

The dim glow of the streetlights reached through the windows of Vi's apartment in a haze, highlighting the outline of you and Vi's body in the sheets. The soft hum of the city was a stark contrast to the warmth of being nestled in the sheets. You sat there, fingers twisting nervously in the fabric of your shirt.

Vi noticed the way your shoulders tensed and the way you were lost in your thoughts. She reached out, softly dragging her calloused hands along your arm.

"Hey," she murmured, titling her eyes to meet your own. "You don't have to be nervous baby. Y'know you can trust me."

You swallowed hard trying to push down the insecurities that roared through your head. You couldn't help but feel insecure. Without hesitation, you moved your head down to pick at your nails.

"I know, I'm just... nervous I guess. I don't know what I'm doing and I don't exactly look like-" You paused in anxiety, too nervous to voice your insecurity.

It was no secret that you looked nothing like her exes. It was stupid to even think about how you found yourself catching your reflection, thinking about how you were softer than them. And your girlfriend. She was so fit with the muscles that showed off her strength. Tears started to gather in your eyes at the thoughts in your head.

Vi's brows furrowed as she brought her hand to your face, tilting your head back to her. Her thumb brushed over your skin with admiration. Sometimes you didn't understand it. How she could look at you so longingly.

"You don't 'exactly' look like what? Like someone I Love? Someone I wanna be with?" Her voice was so firm yet still so soft.

You sighed, the words feeling heavier than you wanted them to. "Like the kind of person you'd want like this."

Vi let out a short laugh, not out of mockery but in true disbelief. She shifted closer, her forehead now pressed against her. Her breath was warm and steady against your skin. "Baby, have you seen you? Every damn inch of you drives me wild."

"You are the most beautiful woman in the world to me. Why would you think I wouldn't want you?"

Your breath hitched at the conviction in her words. She didn't say it just to make you feel better - she meant it. You searched her eyes for any doubt, any hesitation, but all you found was adoration.

"I just... I can't help but think it sometimes."

Vi smiled softly at you. "Then let me show you how much I want you baby. How much I love every part of you."

She kissed you slowly and deliberately, trying her best to pour every ounce of emotion into the press of her lips. She moved with a gentleness that made you feel like something precious.

And she held you even closer, drawing her hands against your body, mapping every curve. You felt something shifting in you. The insecurity beginning to melt away at her hands.

The kiss deepened as you ran her hair through your fingers, pulling as she suckled gently at your pulse before soothing it with her tongue. Vi smirked against your neck, her hands squeezing at your waist.

Heat pulled in your stomach her kisses continued down your body. Each one more possessive after the other.

Her hands crept under your shirt, cupping your breasts. She pulled the shirt over your head and placed her mouth on you, sweeping over your nipple with her tongue. She hummed, the vibrations making you turn your hips in search of friction.

Smirking from her spot she spoke, "These fit so perfectly in my hands baby." She continued tweaking your buds as she spoke, making you whine in desire.

Her eyes darkened with desire. "Can I taste you?" she asked, hands moving down to your wet core. Feeling how wet you wear through your underwear she begged, "Please baby. Lemme take these off so show you how much I want you."

Your hand lowered, covering Vi's where her hand traced your slit, guiding her to slip your underwear to the side. Your breath hitched, "I want this, you, but- just go slow okay?"

Vi's lips curled into a soft smile, her eyes never leaving yours.

"Always, baby. Always for you." Her voice was a low, husky whisper, thick with desire. She could feel the way your body trembled under her touch, the way your breathing staggered as she traced your wet slit.

Her fingers hooked into the waist band of your underwear, sliding them down with a gentle tug. The cool air hit your exposed skin, making you shiver. But Vi's warmth replaced it instantly, her hot breath against your thigh. She kissed the inside of your knee, her lips trailing in an agonizing pace.

"You're so fucking beautiful," she whispered, voice rough with want. "Every part of you. I'm gonna make you feel so good, baby. Just let me take care of you."

Her tongue flicked out, a teasing swipe against your folds. You gasped, hips jerking involuntarily. She pressed a firm kiss to your clit, lips wrapping around the swollen bundle of nerves and sucking gently. Your hands flew to her hair as she worked over you. her tongue lapping at your slick with a hunger that made your toes curl.

"Vi-" you whimpered, voice breaking as she slipped a finger inside you.

"That's it," she whispered, watching as your hand clutched her wrist. Breathless whimpers left your mouth as you began to rock against her hand. She added a second finger, stretching you slowly as her mouth never left your clit.

She fucked you with her fingers in a slow and steady rhythm. It was overwhelming in the best way possible, too much yet not enough. "Let me hear you. Let me feel how much you want this."

Your back arched off the bed, a moan leaving your throat as her fingers pressed harder and faster. Her tongue circling your clit in tight, relentless circles. The heat in your stomach coiled tighter, thighs trembling as she pushed you closer to the edge.

You could feel it building, the pressure becoming sweet, unbearable, and then-

"Vi, I'm... I'm gonna," you choked out. Your voice barely a whisper but she heard you.

"Cum for me baby," she growled, fingers pumping harder, her mouth sucking harder. And that was all it took. Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, feeling different than if it were your own fingers.

Your body convulsed as the pleasure ripped through you, your cries filling the room. Vi didn't let up, fingers still working inside you, drawing out every last shuddering pulse of your release until you were spent.

She pulled back slowly, lips glistening with your slick. her eyes were hungry as she looked at you.

"You see that?" she murmured in satisfaction. "That's how much I want you. Every fucking inch of you."

You were still catching your breath, chest heaving. You were on cloud nine but you still managed a weak smile. Vi returned the smile, brushing your hair away from your face before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"You okay?" she asked. It was soft with warmth.

You nodded, sighing as your nestled closer to her. "More than okay."

Vi chuckled, wrapping an arm around you, pulling your closer to her chest. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat was soothing, grounding you into the moment.

Silence settled between you as she found her hand tracing the curves of your body. It wasn't awkward or heavy. It was peaceful, the kind of quiet that felt like safety.

After a moment she spoke again. 'Y'know, you don't ever have to worry about comparing yourself. You're the only one I see."

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, emotions still lingering at the edge of your thought. "i know... I just get so in my head sometimes."

"Then I'll just have to remind you everyday."

You laughed, softly shaking your head. "That might be a little too much baby."

Vi smirked. "Never. Not when it's you."

Your heart swelled at her words and the belief you held in them. Wrapped in her arms you let yourself sink into the warmth of her presence.

You found yourself not worrying about what you looked like. Tonight, you were just you. And to Vi that was everything.

#vi x reader #vi arcane x reader #vi x you #vi arcane #vi x fem reader #vi fluff #vi x reader smut #vi smut #god i wrote this thinking about myself too much #i'm so shameless i wrote this in less than a day

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just-some-random-blogger · 2 days ago

Text

Yet, you cannot. Because you can’t find the damn book anywhere. You are sure the compilation of histories of Old Valyria Daemon had given you has to be in your rooms.

Honestly. If I lost my book, my favorite book,my favorite book gifted to me by my father, my favorite book gifted to me by my father because he said I was the only child of his who could inherit it, I would fucking crash out and be inconsolable for life

You feel torn. Cregan and you are getting along now, but you still hesitate going to him with your troubles. Not only you had leftover guilt even though you have both chosen to move on from your rivalry, you also prided yourself on being independent.

Your pride will be the death of you. Unfortunately I feel you. I'm going to write a song about this

Asking him or anyone for help always makes you feel uncomfortable. You didn’t want others to perceive you as weak.

Still. What if he thinks less of you for being careless with your things? Or if he thinks you are being overly sentimental to get this worked up over a book?

Girl

Worse, what if he thinks you are accusing him of stealing?

GIRL STOP YOURE JUMPING INTO LAVA FOR NO FUCKING REASON?????

[...] to love is to be humbled, it seems.

Stealing this. it's so fucking stupid of her what the fuck

“You always may, wife.”

THE WAY I SCREAMMMMMMMED

“I enjoy how my colors look on you.” Cregan rumbles, a pleased smile forming on his face. Today, you are wearing one of the warmest dresses you own, in a pale gray. It’s made of velvet, and you enjoy how it feels over your skin. You had commissioned it after you arrived at Winterfell, using the generous pocket money that Cregan allowed you.

“You.” And it’s said with such disarming honesty, you do not know what to say.

NRJDSJSNN RIZZLER ALERT

Secretly, it pleases you that he remembers what you had been reading last week.

Not be. Me at cregan after this

This is my cats kitten btw.

“I cannot find it.” You whine, losing your battle with the tears. “My book. It’s really important that I find it.”

I would simply cry too. Bestie....

“Shh… I know. I have been unkind to you.” [...] “I took your book.”

🧍‍♀️ he fucking what? I don't... I don't know how I feel... I'm upset ????

While grief and self-doubt do not chase him as much as they chase you, he is still a widower with a wife who despised him at first.

Let's be broken together

The nerve of those Hightowers knew no bounds. What was next? Demanding a Sept be built in Wintertown for those false gods of theirs?

HAHAHHAAHAHHHAHA FALSE GODS IS SO FUNNY GOES HARD

And if that wasn’t enough to make his day terrible, during the afternoon Cregan had received an outraged Sara. Apparently, for some unknown reason, she had received an offer to become Lady Cerwin And for another unknown reason, it was the most terrible fate. Ever.

SKKSJSNSJ SARA GIVE IN TO YOUR PLOT STOP STRESSING UR BROTHER

“I think I will place my princess here. And a dragon here.” You explain, as if you are building some great castle. Rickon stares, transfixed by you. Cregan understands the feeling all too well. He remembers the weight of you in his lap, the warmth of your skin against him, your smell. He has been unable to get the memory out of his mind in days.

HALA MY STARKS ARE LOVING EACH OTHER I

You feel nerves creep up on you. Cregan never summons you. When he wants your company, he simply appears near you or waits for a meal to invite you to spend time with him.

HE SIMPLY APPEARSSSSS JWKKSKSKSKA I WANT HIM I WANT HIMMMM DKKDKDMS

When you step inside, it is as if you are stepping inside your storybook. The walls are covered with tapestries depicting some of the prettier illustrations, priestesses wearing amethysts, dragons of shining ivory, lovers holding hands.

BESTIEEEEEE HE WAHHHHAT

“You did this… for me?” Your hands tremble as you set the table alight. All the known world, on display for you. In a war table. It is only then that it registers.

.... I know that she's emotional and in disbelief but

???? NO BESTIE HE DID IT FOR HIS UNCLE WOULD YOU FUCKING BELIEVE???? GIGGGGILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

You have been blind, you realize, as you look at your book come to life in this room. The man who had given it to you had shown you that one could form a family with a widow and cherish their sons as if they were your own.

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 DAEMON BEING A GOOD DAD BLUEPRINT MAKES ME SO SOFT DAEMON MY SHAYLAAAAAAA

“Dear Jacaerys, I want you to know that I am completely, perfectly, incandescently happy…”

MR DARCYYYYYY?????

IM GLAD THAT SHES FINALLY SPOKEN TO JACEEEE

CRISTIII THIS WAS INCREDIBLE ARE YOU KIDDING MEEE????? IM SO HAPPY SO PROUD OF YOU FOR FINISHING YOUR SERIES. ME SOON TORMENTED SPIRIT PLEASE END FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS GOOD SHE STILL GOING

I lovveeee cregan so much I love the surprise so much I LOVE HOW YOU ENDED IT. IM SO SATISFIED. MY PETTY ASS ALL FIGHTS TO HAVE AN ANGST ENDING WHEN THERES ANGST BUT YOU SWAYED ME AND I WANT THEM ONLY TO HAVE FLUFF FOREVER AND EVER AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH BECAUSE WHO ELSE COULD DO THAT BUT YOU. AM I SO VERY GREEDY TO ASK MORE? ANYWAY TAG ME NEXT FIC OK OK I LOVE YOU BYE AHHHH

Summer (Cregan Stark x Reader)

Summary: As a Princess, you aren’t used to rejection. But Cregan, your husband, has vowed to only ever love one woman, and it isn't you. Right?

A/N: I can finally wrap up my romcom! Big romantic gesture ahead. Check the masterlist of this series here, if you are new. And to my lovely, lovely readers, thank you for staying wityh me during this madness.

Warnings: My anxious introverted reader being anxious (Shocker) Cregan has self-doubts. Mature language.

YOU ARE HAVING a terrible day. It surprises you because that doesn’t happen as often any longer. Today, you would rather not talk to anyone, much less Cregan, whose hovering would only serve to make you more anxious. Today, you want to crawl under the covers with your comfort book and pretend to be dead.

Yet, you cannot. Because you can’t find the damn book anywhere. You are sure the compilation of histories of Old Valyria Daemon had given you has to be in your rooms.

You have pulled open all your desk’s drawers, checked the bedside table twice, checked the bed, even beneath it. Not even your chest with linens was spared. It’s nowhere.

With little choices left, you have begun searching the nursery too, but haven’t quite mastered the courage to search Cregan’s solar. You remember taking the book alongside you to read as you kept him company sometimes, but do not recall leaving it there.

Asking him or anyone for help always makes you feel uncomfortable. You didn’t want others to perceive you as weak.

Stop. You are being silly, you tell yourself. It’s not like you are about to ask him to solve your life, you only will inquire if he has seen your book.

Still. What if he thinks less of you for being careless with your things? Or if he thinks you are being overly sentimental to get this worked up over a book?

Worse, what if he thinks you are accusing him of stealing?

You let out a groan. You are overthinking. Your bad days often include a lot of anxiety, and today it is a bad day. A terrible one, that will be worse if you don’t find your beloved book. Determined, you march to Cregan’s solar and knock on his door.

“Aye?” He calls out, northern accent on full display, and you can’t help that your knees get a little weak.

“Cregan? May I come in?” Suddenly, your bravery and determination have deserted you. Your voice comes out squeaky as a mouse. By the Fourteen Flames, to love is to be humbled, it seems.

“You always may, wife.” You wince at being addressed as such. You suppose it’s a good thing he isn’t calling you by your full title any longer.

Pushing open the door, you step inside. Cregan is seated on his desk, a frown on his face. He is squinting at some maps, in the way he sometimes does. His frown softens when he sees you, standing on the door.

You had to give it to the man. No matter how annoying you had been at first, he had never been tight-fisted with your allowance.

“Thank you.” You feel your cheeks heating up, and fight the urge to fan your face. What you don’t manage to fight is the urge to preen under his gaze.

Cregan chuckles. You narrow your eyes at him. Is he mocking you? He lifts his hands in surrender, attuned as he is to your moods.

“Apologies. It’s cute, that’s all.”

“The dress?”

“You.” And it’s said with such disarming honesty, you do not know what to say. You search his face, yet his expression is so open, so fond, no hint of mockery can be found. It’s… Cregan must be thinking of her, for sure. That expression doesn’t mean anything. “What were you here for?”

You clear your throat.

“Um. I was… I lost my book.”

“What book?” Cregan asks, shifting his maps aside. He is clearing his desk, you realize. “The one about the conquest?”

“No, not that one.” Your voice turns shyer still. Secretly, it pleases you that he remembers what you had been reading last week. “It has a brown leather cover and the title is in gold.”

“The one in High Valyrian?” And his tone is casual. Far too casual. You begin to worry that your book might have met its end. You look him in the eyes, but find little there. Cregan has an impeccable blank face. He gives nothing away. “Check the selves. Maybe it is there.”

You turn around and begin doing so. But the more titles you check, the more nervous you become. Cregan is an organized man, his books are carefully separated by subject. The servants know to keep to his order, when he rarely leaves them lying around.

Your book would stand out. You know it. A tight knot of anxiety begins to settle on your stomach. As you reach the lower shelves, you feel tears gathering in your lash line. You cannot believe you are about to cry over a book.

Cregan will never love you. He will go right back into thinking you are some soft southron, with no spine. No one cries over books. He will think you are ridiculous.

Despite your back being to him, he seems to sense something is wrong.

“Love? Is everything alright?”

“I cannot find it.” You whine, losing your battle with the tears. “My book. It’s really important that I find it.”

You hear him get up, and walk closer to you. He hugs you from behind, holding you to him.

“Shh… I know. I have been unkind to you.” You are confused about his words, but not enough that you reject the comfort of his embrace. Cregan is warm against your back, and smells faintly of parchment and leather. There is something herbal clinging to his skin, too. His smell and his size make you feel safe. He is tall enough that his form covers yours completely.“I took your book.”

You flinch. Your hackles begin to rise. Your sadness leaves, clouded by absolute wrath.

“What?”

“I wanted to gift you something. It’s being copied by the Maester as we speak. I wanted it to be a surprise, I know how much you love it.” He nuzzles your neck, and it pacifies you slightly. The prospect of a gift entices you, especially if it is a copy of your favorite book. Perhaps Cregan will have it nicely bound. “I regret it now. Knowing how much you love it, I should have known it would upset you.”

“I wanted to read it today.” You complain, still sad. It has been an awful day for you. “I do not feel so well.”

“Of course, sweetling.” Cregan drops a kiss to your crown. “I’ll have it delivered to you. Would you mind lending it to me tomorrow? You can recall it anytime during the day if you need it, like now.”

“Alright.” You whisper, softly. Cregan gathers you in his arms again, and moves the two of you to the loveseat. There, he settles you in his lap. He takes of his cloak and drapes it over you. This way, you are fully surrounded by his warmth and smell.

He calls a servant. True to his word, the book is back in your hands in less than half an hour. You spend the rest of the afternoon reading in his lap.

Suddenly, your bad day doesn’t seem so bad.

WHEN HE FEELS like an inconsiderate brute, Cregan tries to think happier thoughts. While grief and self-doubt do not chase him as much as they chase you, he is still a widower with a wife who despised him at first.

Often, gazing upon Rickon or you is enough to help him feel more settled. More at peace with himself. His son is well adapted enough, he reasons, as he sees him run around the courtyard. You do not despise him, he thinks, as you curl by his side.

Today, neither is working. Rickon and you are together, a picture that normally would serve to pull him out from his brooding. Of course, since Rickon is on the floor wailing, it isn’t quite working.

Cregan has a headache. The pain is spreading from his jaw, towards his cheekbones, and from there turning into sharp icicles that feel like they are being stabbed in his skull.

The day has been long. He had ridden out at dawn to deal with some wildings near Wintertown, and then had to answer his correspondence. The dammed Greens would not stop pestering him to switch sides and hand you over, alternating between threats and flattery.

As if the Starks were some miserable turncloaks who betrayed their oaths. As if Cregan would just hand over his wife to some usurping cunts.

The nerve of those Hightowers knew no bounds. What was next? Demanding a Sept be built in Wintertown for those false gods of theirs?

Rickon keeps screaming. He has been that way for a while. Cregan had been alone with him, watching him play on the rug with his blocks, when he had started crying and wouldn’t stop.

Cregan had tried picking him up, rocking him, walking him back and forth, but nothing helped. One of the servants must have heard and alerted you because you had appeared looking disgruntled.

You had been in the middle of your quiet time, as Cregan enjoyed calling it. Awkward Princesses who hated socializing needed time to recover from hearing petitions during the day. He had realized so when he started teaching you to pass judgement.

As the time for Cregan to march south to defend your mother’s claim became more imminent, he was giving you more and more responsibilities in Winterfell. That way, you would be prepared to hold the North when he left. Prepared to protect his Kingdom and his son.

“Tower! Tower!” Rickon wails, as you pick him. Your face is as tired a Cregan feels. His head is heavy. He cannot stand Rickon screaming any longer. By the gods, Cregan is a terrible father. He cannot even calm his son when he needs him. After his many attempts to calm him down were unsuccessful, he had just set him down.

“What’s the matter, sweet boy?” You ask, holding Rickon close to your heart. Rickon continues to cry. You meet Cregan’s eyes over his son’s head.

Cregan shrugs. He is unsure of what triggered the tantrum.

“Shh, all is well. I get overwhelmed too, sometimes.” You say, and Cregan gets the feeling you are talking to him and not to Rickon. “But we can’t rebuild your tower if you are getting all wiggly.”

This is about the building blocks, Cregan realizes. He feels like a terrible father. A failure.

Bennard’s words come to mind once more. How can you govern the North if you can’t govern yourself? You failed.

Your swordsmanship is poor, and you still are a pup crying for your parents. You cannot rule.

He had heard a variation of those words for years, every time he had tried to push his claim. And look, Cregan knows he is not a poor swordsman, and he has tried his best to rule. Men don’t cry, but he does it occasionally. Rarely. His tears never dry out, no matter how old he grows, but it is the only thing of Bennard’s words that came true. That isn’t so bad, is it?

You have settled on the floor, Rickon on your lap. He still cries, but he has stopped shrieking. You have started building a tower on your own.

It would be pleasant, a session of cuddling with his wife, were it not for the circumstances that lead up to it. All Cregan’s fault.

“A shame you want to keep crying and won’t help. I suppose I shall have to ask your father to play with me.” Your eyes are coy. You give Cregan a glance, and his lips form a smile despite himself. Of course you would try bribery.

Of course, it works. Rickon picks up the first block, still sniffling.

“No! Father isn't a Princess. You are!”

“You are right, Rickon.” You agree, as if it were the most natural thing. “Silly me. He is a wolf. We should build him a Wolfswood.”

And so, Rickon forgets his tantrum, settled by your gentle touch and encouraging words. And Cregan’s heart soars.

“MILADY, LORD STARK wishes for your company.” One of the serving girls says, eyes downcasted. You pause in your perusal of the granary, making a quick note on your ledger. As the Lady of Winterfell, it falls to you to ensure the castle has supplies enough for winter, or so Cregan says. You find the Northern’s obsession with the season a bit much, but considering little grows here, you too would feel better knowing you have enough grain if something happens.

“Right now?” Considering he had been the one to send you on this errand, it confuses you a little. He must have known taking stock of the granary would take you all day.

“As soon as you can come. It’s not urgent, but he wishes to see you soon.”

You feel nerves creep up on you. Cregan never summons you. When he wants your company, he simply appears near you or waits for a meal to invite you to spend time with him.

You can’t help it. War and grief had frayed your nerves. These days, you feel like everything could be a sign of bad news.

It’s not urgent, you repeat to yourself. It’s not urgent, it’s not urgent, you chant in your head, but your steps towards the inside of Winterfell are hurried.

The castle is unusually quiet. The maid guides you to one of the unused wings of the castle, one near Cregan’s rooms. You have never asked, but you know these were the rooms his uncle used to inhabit when trying to usurp him. The man had never dared taking the lord’s rooms from Cregan, lingering near instead, a feeling you understand too well.

Your husband is a formidable man. You wouldn’t want to cross him, either.

The serving girl hesitates when the two of you reach a big oaken door.

“What is it?” You ask her, with a frown. “Why do you linger?”

She doesn’t answer. She simply shoots you a shy smile. Annoyed at her shyness, you push the door open yourself. Your breath catches.

The room is decorated in understated creams and golds, the furniture made of the finest woods. Despite the themes of the decoration, it is clearly meant to be a Lady’s solar, even if not attached to your rooms.

There is a soft, woven carpet that cushions your every step. It is made of pure white fur, to combine tastefully with the rest of the decoration. You can already tell it will feel like heaven on your bare feet, even through your boots. It must have cost a fortune.

Near two, giant windows, a low table sits. It holds a vase very familiar to you, shaped in the form of a dragon. It is filled with winter roses, though you had seen it before in Dragonstone, full of your mother’s favorite flowers.

There is a fireplace, as it is customary in almost all the rooms in Winterfell. On its mantle, small toys and mementos from your childhood sit. Near the fireplace, a small sitting area awaits, with comfortable looking armchairs and loveseats, and a low table in which a tea set, painted with Valyrian motives, rests.

There is a desk in a corner, much bigger than yours, and a small bookshelf, that resembles the layout Cregan has in his own solar. It has sparse books, but all of them are in High Valyrian. Your favorite book has a place of honor, right in the middle of the highest shelf.

Yet, the true star of the room lies on the back of it. There is a huge round table, like the one from your stories, made of sturdy wood, that resembles the one from the war room from Dragonstone. Not only are the Seven Kingdoms featured, but also Essos, Sothoryos, the Summer Islands and even Great Moraq. Cregan is in the middle of lighting the table, struggling with how one is supposed to do it.

“How..?” You babble, astonished. To assemble this… You understand now why he had needed your book so many times. The time and care put into building this room, so delightfully whimsical yet honoring your culture at the same time… Your eyes prickle with tears.

“We can send it back.” Cregan says, alarmed by your tears. “If you…”

“No!” You say, with an energy that surprises you. You take the candles from his hands and begin lighting the table the proper way. “This is… My home. And my book.”

Cregan’s face is uncharacteristically unsure.

"I hoped it would remind you of where you came from. Of whom you are. A Princess of Dragonstone. My Princess.”

“You did this… for me?” Your hands tremble as you set the table alight. All the known world, on display for you. In a war table. It is only then that it registers.

Cregan is willing to go to war for you. Kill in your name. Lay the whole world at your feet. You have to grip the back of one of the chairs as to not fall down, knees weak.

“I know you are far from home. And I haven’t… We haven’t always been on the best terms, but you never shied away from your duties. I wanted to give you something that was about you.”

“I never thought you saw me.” You whisper. “I… I owe you an apology. For everything. For insulting you, when I arrived, for speaking of Lady Arra, for… For not seeing you either, at first.”

Daemon wasn't a kind man, but he was loyal to family. You were far kinder. If he could do it, and be happy, so could you.

“There is no need to apologize to me.” Cregan gathers you in his arms, and presses a kiss to your lips. His own are chapped from the cold, yet the only thing you feel is his warmth. And for two people as different as winter and summer, you find that your bodies do understand each other.

It takes Cregan but a week to convince you after that. The first letter you write in your new desk begins as it follows:

“Dear Jacaerys, I want you to know that I am completely, perfectly, incandescently happy…”

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x y/n

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inkedinshadows · 8 hours ago

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if ur still taking requests may I please ask for prompt #22 with cassian? it can be fluffy or smutty or both 🥰 thanks love ur blog btw!! 🩷🩷🩷

Starved For Your Touch

Pairing: Cassian x f!reader

A/N: Hi anon! Thank you so much <33 I wanted to include smut but inspiration for fluff found me first! I love drama queen cassian, hope you enjoy it 💕

Prompt: "You're such a tease today."

Warnings: none really, just a very tiny short piece of angst if you really squint

Word count: 1.5k

You had recently realized just how much Cassian craved physical contact, and your new favorite pastime was denying him of it. You wanted to see how far you could push him before he snapped.

Apparently, just a day.

You chose a short summer dress, fully aware of the way it hugged your curves and made your legs look longer. Cassian wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you, and you were determined not to let him touch you.

When you walked into the living room, he was lounging on the couch with Rhys and Mor. You greeted them with a smile, and Cassian’s face lit up when he saw you. Without interrupting the conversation, he reached for you, but you stayed just a few inches out of reach, merely brushing his hand with a teasing smile as you made your way to the kitchen.

When you walked back out a few minutes later, you let him grab your hand and pull you closer. You knew he wanted you to sit on his lap. You both loved it. But today you didn’t, opting instead to settle on the couch beside him. He frowned but didn’t comment.

“You look lovely, sweetheart,” he said instead. “This dress suits you.”

“It really does,” Mor chimed in from her armchair. “Which means your hands will be all over her in three… two…”

You and Rhysand chuckled, but Cassian grinned. He didn’t even try to deny it.

“Actually, I have to go,” you announced, cutting the moment short.

Cassian stilled, his arm half-lifted as he was about to drape it over your shoulders. “You’re leaving already?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m going shopping with Elain, remember?” You patted his knee before standing and looking at Mor. “Want to join us?”

Her smile widened. “You know it.”

You leaned down to kiss Cassian, just a brush of your lips against his—more a promise of a kiss than an actual one. He tried to keep you there, to deepen the kiss, but you pulled back.

“Always eager for more,” you murmured, and booped his nose. “I’ll see you for dinner.”

Following Mor to the front door, you turned back to wave at Cassian, catching the stunned expression plastered on his face.

Rhys just looked amused.

~~~~~~

Cassian was waiting when you returned home a few hours later.

Mor and Elain had already come back, but you’d stayed behind to buy one last item—a flimsy piece of lingerie you thought he might like.

“How long have you been standing there?” you asked as the door closed behind you. “Not since the girls came back, I hope.”

“I saw you arrive through the window.” Cassian pushed off the wall and stalked toward you, an accusatory finger pointed in your direction. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at what you assumed was supposed to be an intimidating expression. It never worked on you. He could be intimidating when he needed to—he was a warrior and a general, after all. But when he pretended, his lips jutted out slightly in a pout and a small crease appeared between his brows.

“And what is it?” you inquired, trying to walk past him and up the stairs. You were carrying a few full bags and just wanted to drop them off in your room.

Cassian’s arm shot out to block your path. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. Not until you tell me why you haven’t kissed me all day.”

You cocked your head. “I have kissed you today,” you retorted.

He scoffed. “Only three times and they were just little pecks.” Then, as if it was obvious, he added, “Which don’t really count.”

“Oh, you poor big baby,” you chuckled. “What if I’m just saving the best for last because I bought something I know you’ll like?”

Cassian’s eyes darted to the bags in your hands. He tried to peek inside, but everything was neatly wrapped. He looked back at you. “Something like…?”

You smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Before he could stop you, you slipped under his arm and headed for the stairs. “I’ll leave these in our room,” you warned as you began the short climb. “And if I find out you snooped around, I’ll return the surprise.”

Cassian’s outraged gasp followed you up the stairs. You could practically see him clutching his chest, as if your words had struck him like a dagger to the heart. “When have I ever done something like that?”

“Cassian,” you scolded, not even bothering to turn around.

“Alright, alright.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “I promise.”

~~~~~~

When you joined the others downstairs, some were already gathered around the table, their choice of seating casual as always. But Cassian had saved you a spot beside him, and as you approached, you leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you, my love,” you murmured, making sure to brush your fingers along his wing as you settled into your chair.

He inhaled sharply, drawing a pointed look from Amren on his other side. She merely rolled her eyes before turning back to her conversation with Azriel.

“Sorry,” you quipped, feigning innocence. “I didn't mean to.”

Cassian narrowed his eyes. “What is going on?”

You shrugged off his question, focusing on filling your plate. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His gaze remained fixed on you, tracking your every moment. Holding back a laugh was harder than you’d expected, but you schooled your features into an unreadable expression.

“You’re such a tease today,” he muttered. “The dress, the kisses, now my wing…” His eyes darkened slightly as he watched you take the first bite of your food. “And this morning, when you got me so worked up only to slip out of bed before I could—”

“Cassian.”

Both of you looked up. Rhysand sat directly across from you, his brows raised. It was the same look he wore when waiting for someone to admit they had done something wrong.

“What?” Cassian scowled.

“If you really can’t avoid discussing your personal life during family dinner, at least keep your voice down.” Everyone was looking at you now, but Rhys went on, an amused smirk appearing on his lips. “Besides, I’m sure Y/N has a good reason for keeping you high and dry.”

Laughter rippled around the table, but Cassian only glowered. With a smile, you placed your hand on his thigh, hidden from the others’ view. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, pressing another soft kiss to his cheek. “I’ll make it up to you.”

He simply grumbled, “Oh, you will.”

The rest of the dinner passed uneventfully. Your hand lingered on Cassian’s leg, but he paid it little attention. He seemed distant, glancing toward Azriel more than once throughout the meal. The Shadowsinger merely raised an eyebrow each time their eyes met.

Had you gone too far? Maybe you shouldn't have teased him in front of the whole family.

When dinner ended and everyone moved into the sitting room for drinks, you watched as Cassian left without a word. You made to follow him to apologize—for real this time—but Azriel pulled you aside before you could.

His expression was so grim that you paused before you could ask him to talk later.

“What’s wrong?” you asked instead.

Azriel hesitated. “I’m worried about Cassian. Is everything okay between you two?”

Your heart sank. Of course Azriel had noticed, but for him to be concerned enough to pull you aside… maybe you had really pushed Cassian too far. You needed to talk to him as soon as possible to explain things.

“No, Az, it’s fine,” you started, trying to explain. “It’s just that I—”

Your words turned into a startled scream as two strong arms suddenly wrapped around you, lifting you off the ground.

Cassian’s laughter boomed in your ears as he crushed you to his chest. “Got you!”

Your hands flew to his forearms, your heart pounding. “What… what are you doing?” you mumbled, still trying to make sense of what was happening.

Azriel’s lips curled up into a smirk. “Good luck with him,” he said before slipping away to join the others in the sitting room.

“What…?”

Cassian began striding toward the stairs, still holding you from behind, your feet dangling uselessly above the floor.

“You shouldn't have let your guard down, sweetheart,” he murmured in your ear. “You really thought you could tease me all day and get away with it?”

Azriel. He had distracted you just long enough for Cassian to sneak up behind you.

Cassian set you down on the first step, only to spin you around and scoop you up again. “Now I’ve got you, and you’re not going anywhere. You have a whole day to make up for.”

You wrapped your arms and legs around him as he started up the stairs. A breathless laugh left your lips. “So you’re not mad at me?”

“Worse than that.” He grinned, his hands sliding from your thighs to your ass, squeezing playfully. “I’m touch-starved. So why don’t you start fixing that?”

This time, you obliged him, cupping his face and pressing your lips to his before he even reached your bedroom door.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @ivy-34

1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness

#cassian #cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #cassian acotar #cassian fic #cassian fluff #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #acotar fluff #a court of thorns and roses #sjm #sarah j maas #fluff #fanfiction #one shot #requested

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gnohomotho · 14 hours ago

Note

HEAR ME OUT

This request that i have is so cheesy but sounds so good in my mind, forgive me 😭😫

Junho and reader doing like a private first impression thing like u know where the bride and groom are standing back to back and then they turn around. And like Junho is mesmerised has tears is his eyes

Like i literally only have the most cheesy and romantic ideas in my mind i CANNOT help it

Btw love your works 😜😚😚😚❤️❤️

I did my best, Anon, your message truly made my day. ♥ :D I hope I didn't overdo it, then again, cheese is my livelihood. Sorry for any oddities or spelling mistakes, I'm a bit in the trenches today. :c

It's a bit longer with some wedding dress backstory and getting ready, but I think the good part is there. :3 I hope you enjoy! ♥♥♥

The Moment I Saw You

Pairing: Jun-ho x almostwife!fem!reader Summary: And you thought the dress shopping would be hard. The first impression you wished to give your husband-to-be went differently than expected, and you are swimming in a sea of love and bliss. Warnings: Remember that one modded Skyrim playthrough where the player accidentally glitched the cheese-wheel summoning spell and drowned the whole town in cheese? Well, that's what's happening here, but worse. Fluff! Fluff! More fluff! Word count: 2.7k

Everything should have been perfect.

You were picking the dress, and it was taking long. You were standing in the bridal shop, unable to choose, tired, wanting to go home. The person looking back at you in the mirror didn’t look like a bride to you. Even though everything was in place, it felt…wrong. Fake, somehow. Ill-fitting. The shop assistant was very kind, you thought her patient – but even she could see you were not exactly the glowing bride-to-be she was used to. Nor anything like the shiny photographs littered across the front desk.

Your close friend was there with you, trying her best, you could hear her rummaging through the dresses again, muttering – “puffy sleeves, prom dress, no, no, no, form fitting…” She had the fervour of a very hungry owl searching for that one mouse that got away. “Dumb…long…short…dear god do people actually wear this…oooh, shiny…no…hmmm…” She was already buckling under the weight of all the new ones she picked out for you.

“Hey, Y/N, are you sure you don’t like this one?” She held up a gorgeous gown, white as snow, silk, smooth, reflecting light with a soft plunge of a neckline, and a revealed back. The skirt fell in a mermaid style, you could look like a gorgeous datura flower at the bottom.

“No, no, I’m not sure…not…” You think of yourself in the dress and frown. Your husband to be…Your Jun-ho…should he see you like this? He should see the most beautiful version of you on such a day – and yet you felt more like he was going to run away the moment he laid eyes you.

“Please? How about this one?” Your friend holds up her second choice. The dress is half lace, intricately woven with flowers and soft curling patterns, with off-the-shoulder milky sleeves, a lovely bodice and a small ribbon on the back. The veil would hide more of you, you think. But still. You eye the skirt, its velvety material falling almost straight down. You know you’d be leaving nothing to the imagination and wonder, what if this is all a mistake? What if he made a gigantic mistake, from the very first moment he met you? The first date? The first touch? What if you’ve been unknowingly deceiving him, and now he’ll see you for what you are, what you look like, inside and out? You can’t hide in white.

Your friend walks up to you and gently takes your hand to help you off the platform. She guides you away from the mirrors. As she walks you to the changing room, she is slowly stroking your hand, noticing you are beginning to resemble a vibrating ball of nerves.

“Y/N, if you keep frowning like that, I’m pretty sure you��ll have to pay for extra retouching of all the new wrinkles.” She tried to joke but immediately noticed that it was neither the time nor place and changed her demeanour. You sit, feeling the small bench weigh down with you as she does too, and gently hold your stomach as you speak. You’re unsure which one of you will get the hint first, but you’re pushing it out into the back of your mind as far as you can.

“I just…” You try to speak but the words come out all wrong. “I don’t think he’ll…he’ll be so disappointed.” You sigh and trace both hands down your face to calm down and wipe the stress away, but it clings to every molecule of your skin. “Jun-ho isn’t the type to…” No, all wrong. “It’s not the dresses, it’s me.” Gosh darn it, the tears begin to form. “It’s just me.”

“Hey, hey…darling…” your friend begins stroking the back of your hand as she holds your palm. She is warm and reassuring, but you struggle to believe her.

“It’s ok. It’s ok to be nervous. But you’re beautiful, no matter the dress. To be honest,” she looks around with added drama, as if feigning trying not to be heard, “I don’t think any of the dresses could do you justice and you should just walk out there stark naked if you want them to see how gorgeous you are,” she laughs and squeezes your hand, you look up and let yourself rest with her reassuring, peaceful smile that reaches her lowered eyes now directly resting on you. Although you’re not hugging, you feel held.

Her eyes move to your hand resting on your stomach and you could swear you saw a glint sparkle in their corner and her lashes seem to fall far slower as she blinks, but says nothing. She is so very thoughtful, you think.

“Look, if I know anything about Jun-ho, which isn’t much” she continues, “that man is head over heels for you and the moment you said “yes” I don’t think he’s heard any other words of any language since.”

You let out a small chuckle through another tear. She continues, knowing she’s on a the right path, knuckle punching every guard on the proverbial way.

“I know you’ve walked past this shop year after year, before any of this, and I know you loved the dresses for their beauty, their, elegance, their promise. Y/N, you told me yourself, what was it…winter…”

“Winter dresses,” you chime in quietly. Barely a whisper. Breathing in, you try to remember those cold walks.

“I walked past, and I tried to look at the winter dresses when I knew the shop was closed. The ones with those gorgeous, long skirts, heavy velvety fabric where they met the skin, forming an A shape towards the waist.” You didn’t tell her that you liked both their protectiveness and the fact that if you decided to dramatically fall into a dark body of water, their puffiness and beauty would truly make the moment worth it. You continued after another less shaky but still reserved breath: “Hugged it and up there, the white enveloping the chest – perhaps with lace across the collarbones, but skin hidden, just a touch away…” you let yourself sink into the memory, far before you met Jun-ho, your husband to be. “With that veil that resembled a winter cape from a Russian fairytale.”

“There’s my little Vasilisa,” your friend laughed and stood up. “I’ll be right back, no eloping!”

You sat there, hand still resting on your belly, worried, excited, feeling as if you’re living someone else’s life. Thinking of what Jun-ho must be doing and feeling. Feeling worse and worse, as if you don’t deserve this life.

You quickly pull out your phone to check the time and melt. You have no idea how Jun-ho's timing is always so perfect, but only a minute or two ago, the words:

"Hey, sweet [diminutive version of Y/N], are you ok? Sorry, just wanted to check on you. I hope the dresses are treating you well! Tell [friend] to look after my wife!” light up your screen.

Another message lit up immediately after: “*wife-to-be, I just can’t stop saying it, sorry! I love you, Y/N.”

The smile that spreads from the corner of your mouth and butterflies that saunter from your stomach almost pushed all the anxiety off a cliff. But it still clung to the edge.

Your friend waltzed in and to your utter disbelief, she held up the perfect dress.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The click of your pearl-white heels was the only thing to be heard across the grass. You focused on their soft step and keeping your balance. Your heart was fluttering out of its chest, your stomach was doing its best to leave the building in excitement, in fear, in anticipation – the train of your dress followed you with a soft sliding murmur and the skirt gently touched each flower on the way. You were so glad he chose to do it this way, away from others. Flowers, a shield of wise oak trees. Bird chatter, a gentle breeze on your flushed cheeks, that’s all you truly needed. That, and him.

“I want to be the only one to see you, Y/N. The only one to witness the first sight of my wife.”

The sweetheart neckline clung to your collarbones, the off-the-shoulder fabric neatly stacked in on itself was cuddling your back and shoulders, light and nearly translucent. It rested on your skin as a light lover’s touch. The beautiful, laced veil, floating with you as well as behind you was hiding, yet still accentuating your shining hair with small white flowers nestled between locks. It fell periodically across your back and your shoulders, resting on your collarbones with each step. The heavy fabric of the dress which clung to your waist and fell once more felt cool and warm at the same time, giving you an air of ethereal slow motion. You looked like you belonged in a winter forest. A vision of indescribable, untouchable beauty. The wind gently played with your hair, as if longing to caress you as much as the man in front of you.

As you walked, the form of your husband-to-be materialised in front of you, facing the other way. Although there were many other features around, each quite beautiful, you had no eyes for them. Slowly, meticulously, as if not to scare him, you walked up the small hill towards him and lingered behind him. He hasn’t seen you, but he knows you’re there – his back is giving away the quickness of his breathing and his attempts to steady it down. Please breathe, my love…” Your thoughts leave their nerves at bay and soften into nothing but care and love for him. Finally, as lightly as a feather, you rest your back against his, feeling his breath quicken once more and his entire form tense and release, as if wishing to melt into you.

Jun-ho almost hesitates, but slowly, in what is trying to be a level manner, speaks.

“On the count of three, Y/N?”

You breathe out a tiny chuckle. Ever the pragmatic yet meticulous man.

“One…” you say almost in unison.

Your breath quickens, your heart is racing ten miles a minute, the dress seems to be tighter and tighter and the birds louder and louder yet so far away.

“Two…” he says alone and you whisper with him, mind turning to mushy cotton but enveloped in such a warm feeling of bliss.

Jun-ho takes in a last, heavy breath and as he lets it out…

“Three.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

You turn around in unison and both stand frozen in the moment.

Your eyes meet.

Jun-ho stands utterly transfixed, trying to take you in, all of you, in your entirety at once. But his eyes cannot contain you, so he keeps glitching, his hands that he wished to extend to you the moment you turned, are shivering and tense.

His soft gaze tries to dart and look at you from a different side, angle, but he cannot. You’re…you’re a vision that he cannot and will not disentangle from.

As his eyes are trying to take in every inch of you and warming his heart with every molecule he manages to snatch from the photons reflecting your form, his heart is firmly on its way out of his chest.

You hear nothing but your breath now, you’re looking up into his eyes, inches away from his face, which is frozen and beginning to tear at itself. As if a mask was cracking in nothing but a barrage of indescribable beauty and feeling.

Jun-ho slowly lifts a shivering hand to his mouth and rests it across his face, fingers almost up to his eyes, as if shielding both you and him from the raw, sheer affection that has swept him off his feet – and you, you are both the waves he’s drowning in and the only lifeboat on the sea.

“Y/N…” he barely chokes out in a whisper.

“Y/N…you…you look...” his hand is joined by his other, slowly laying each palm and finger against themselves under his lips. Jun-ho doesn’t know why he cannot control his expression, a wide smile is fighting to be seen, his eyes and heart are tearing at him in springs of bliss and absolute adoration as he wishes to scoop you up to him and melt into you, squeeze you so tight you won’t know where you stop and he begins.

But you are…untouchable as this vision before him. As he steadies himself, he tries to breathe, getting a breath caught in his throat. He finally looks away and you worry, worry your worst fears came true. Worry that the girl sitting in the bridal shop holding her stomach was correct.

But on second look, he is…oh gosh…” The mixture of worry and unexpected relief, bundled up in nothing but affection and deep care threaten to drive you to both laugh and tear up.

“Jun-ho…!” A hushed whisper from your tender lips brings him back to you, turning his head slowly back. He meets your gaze with reserved fear, one eye – look away – second eye – look away – both – remain with you. You see now, with warmth growing in your chest and flutters dancing across your skin, why he was shielding his mouth, then face, then needing to look away entirely. You take both his hands into yours, caressing each finger lovingly as you lower them down to your waist. You envelop his hands, still caressing each knuckle with the ball of your thumb.

“Jun-ho, my love…” you say slowly, levelly, in a low whisper. “My sweet love…it’s alright.”

Jun-ho cannot help it, the sides of his eyes are fully sparkling now. Your eyes are fully transfixed on his own and guide his gaze into you, and he smiles that wide smile you have grown to love so dearly. Jun-ho’s eyes are now fully glistening like still lakes under a full moon.

“I cannot believe you’re here. I---I---cannot believe…it’s…you…with me…My…My…”

Jun-ho cannot speak further but you feel the hands in your tender embrace reciprocate a grip far more secure and loving than you could ever wish for. As protective as it was reassuring. Jun-ho always held you as if you could slip away at any moment, but so tenderly that should you do so, you’d be protected and enveloped in loving warmth to the very end.

“Your wife. My darling. My husband.” Your face softened as you let the words slide across your lips and into the chasm between you, creating the gentlest of bridges.

“My---wife…” Jun-ho lets out an untangled breath of relief, the full smile finally taking over his face. Sparkles turning to tears fall at the same moment, as if a weight both descended from and knocked the air out of him in a single moment.

“You’re…you’re so beautiful. My love. My everything. You are…you are everything.” He’s still smiling as the small specks run down his cheeks. “I love you, Y/N. I love you. I’m so glad. So glad. So happy. I don’t know how to---can I…can I touch you?”

As the lightly shivering voice in contrast to his imposing, beautiful form reached your ears, you lightly caressed his cheek, and he leaned into your palm immediately.

“Of course, Jun-ho.”

Without a second to spare, he lovingly, gently, as lightly as he could in his given disposition, cupped your face and gave you the longest, most tender of kisses. Slowly his hands trailed to your waist, brushing, as if making sure you weren’t going to disappear or turn into a beautiful dream.

Finally, Jun-ho everso carefully took you in fully. Without warning but still tenderly, Jun-ho lifted you up to him, as if you and your dress were as light as the breeze playing with your hair. In one movement he twirled around with you, letting your dress get caught in the moment and carried by motion, his gorgeous wife, his Y/N, nought but his – giggling in his arms, a vision of angelic beauty in his embrace – and he caught himself laughing with you, in nothing but pure bliss. As he let you down just as gently, his touch lingered – he didn’t want to let you go for one second.

Squeezing his hand, you nudged your face closer to his, beckoning without words; he covered the remaining distance.

You felt his lips brush against your own – top, then bottom, then both – before resting on yours fully. Tenderly. Reservedly. Lovingly. You placed a soft kiss where they lingered and Jun-ho finally let himself melt into you fully, kissing you as if you harboured the last bastion of oxygen in the depths of the ocean, as if you were the only thing on this Earth that he wanted, needed, yearned and lived for.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

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softtdaisy · 15 hours ago

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injury prompt 16 and 22 for reid perhaps... :D Love your writing btw <3

make my heart beat again / spencer reid

summary. spencer was sad. spencer was miserable. he thought he could handle it until he couldn't anymore. he thought he could deal with it alone until he couldn't.

words count. 2 249

prompt. “Why won’t you let me help you?” “…because I don’t deserve it.” / “You deserve to be helped, I—who told you this?” from here

what to expect. very angsty, spencer is so sad i want to hug him, i chose the mentally injured more than physically, mention of murder very quickly

a/n. ok first thank you so much for requesting it sweetie!! and i'm sorry, i wish i posted it sooner but i started it again to make it shorter and...it's not shorter, but it's here and i hope you will love it (and now i can work on your other request) 🫶

F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

You weren’t quite sure how everything started again with Spencer.

One day he was a memory of the past, one of your biggest regrets. The next time he was back in your place, like he always belonged there.

You went on a couple of dates a few years ago, and it would be a lie to say your heart didn’t fall for that boy. Sweet, gentle, the nicest man you’ve ever met. And so beautiful with his always so messy hair, his gorgeous brown eyes that always seemed to look at you like you were one of the seven wonders of the world, and that perfectly shaped mouth that you loved to kiss.

You were sure things could have worked out with Spencer if a) his work didn’t take him that much time—and more. b) You didn’t have other issues in your life you had to deal with before thinking about love.

So you ended your relationship, or whatever it was at that time, before it could be more serious. And you spent way too many nights missing Spencer Reid.

The way he would start every date with a fact that could either last a minute or ten and how you could notice the change in his eyes when he noticed you were truly interested in what he was saying. How he was blushing at any physical contact you were initiating, even in bed after he made love to you. Or even how you never said you loved each other, yet the way his lips would stay longer on your shoulder when you were falling asleep was speaking for your feelings.

You never thought Spencer would miss you just as much.

But he spent months contemplating the idea of seeing you again and trying to convince you this could be good. That he could be good for you. But months turned into a year. And when he celebrated his whole single year on the other side of the country, Spencer read into it that maybe he had glorified love. In all its aspects.

And this conclusion haunted him for years.

To the point Spencer stopped meeting new people and was barely trying to stay in touch with those in his life. He wasn’t seeing his mom much; his colleagues noticed the distance he was building between them, and Spencer couldn’t remember the last time he saw his “friends.”

Because at some point, the fear of losing people turned into a feeling of not being good enough to people’s lives and made him a loner. A sad loner.

That was something you immediately noticed the first time you saw Spencer in years.

Your life has barely changed from your last date. Still the same job, but at a higher place. Still the same apartment, but with a different setting. Still the same person, but more mature.

It wasn’t hard for Spencer to find you. And if he spent a whole year contemplating going back to your place before putting that thought away, the day he truly needed it, it took him a minute to decide it was time.

You didn’t question his presence here when you opened the door. Maybe he should have. But when Spencer grabbed your face after you simply said his name with confusion, nothing seemed to matter.

Not his hair longer than before, not him looking more shaped yet more fragile, not the circle under his eyes being way darker than the last time you saw him. Not that he was eagerly kissing you, something he never did.

You remember Spencer being gentle, taking his time to appreciate every second with you.

No, he was hungry, like each second could be the last with you. For him.

“What are you doing here, Spence?” you finally asked him. You were both lying on the rug in your living room. His eyes were locked on the roof, like he was disconnecting from reality. His arm around your back, holding you against him, was brushing your skin slowly, but he seemed to do that mindlessly.

And Spencer didn’t turn his head to look at you when you, you couldn’t stop looking at him. “I needed that.” Not you. You put away the pain hearing that and tried to see the good in this, that you were the one he went to.

But still, something was different with Spencer.

It would take you a few nights to realize he wasn’t blushing anymore when you touched him. Or that he didn’t seem to have a lot to talk about.

Actually, Spencer wasn’t talking much anymore.

For weeks, Spencer would come to your place at night. Either after a day at the office or when he came back from a case. Usually, when it was the latter, he would even stay the following day to fully decompress from what happened.

You tried to question him once or twice. But Spencer always had the same answer: going down on you to keep you quiet with your question.

It was a win-win situation.

He was giving you pleasure and making you think about something else.

He was concentrating on something else, and your moans were filling his head with other thoughts.

Until one night, the sex wasn’t enough to put his problem away.

You didn’t expect Spencer to come. Two days ago, he told you he had to leave for a case and it would probably last a week. Nothing out of the ordinary. But it gave you the time to think about him and where this was going.

Yet, your bell rang at 10 p.m. Let’s say that dating an FBI agent taught you to not open your door to anybody. You almost played dead and ignored it. But your gut told you to look at who it might be.

You didn’t expect to see Spencer through your spyhole.

You certainly didn’t expect to see him cry on the other side of your door.

“Spencer, what’s going on?” you said, opening your door and immediately bringing him inside. The saddest part was that he let you do it. He didn’t stop you when you took him in your arms. Neither when you brought him to the sofa and sat him on it while you kneeled in front of him.

He was shaking; his face looked red from the tears and the scratching he did with his fingers, trying to take the pain away. But it didn’t work. And hurt him even more.

You grabbed one of his hands to take it away from his face. You tried to ease his joints with a soft caress. You even tried to make eye contact, but it was a lost cause with the way he was closing his eyes hardly, probably hurting himself like that. “Talk to me, Spence,” you whispered, putting your chin on his knee. “Open to me.”

You hated how he pinched his lips together before talking, like he was trying so hard to not break down. “I can’t,” he sobbed. He repeated that multiple times, sounding more angry with himself each time.

But the fact he wasn’t letting go of your hand made you believe that maybe a part of him, maybe just a very little one, wanted to have you. He still came to you tonight, right?

“Why won’t you let me help you?”

This was a genuine question. One that grew over the last weeks. Sometimes, you would wake up in the middle of the night wondering which signs you might have missed when he was here. What did he try to hide from you with kisses and attention that you weren’t asking for? And if maybe you weren’t an accomplice of his troubles by accepting all his treats, knowing it was an excuse to keep everything from himself.

And during these moments, you imagined what Spencer might have answered. That he didn’t want his burden to impact your relationship, that he didn’t want to talk to you specifically.

But you never considered what was coming as an answer.

“…because I don’t deserve it.”

The world went silent.

Except for your heart that just fell on the floor and broke into a million pieces.

Except for Spencer’s sorrow being louder than ever in your small living room.

It was obvious that Spencer wasn’t doing ok. But you couldn’t imagine how broken he really was.

You couldn’t force him to look at you and make him see he wasn’t alone at all. So you put your forehead against his, his sweaty hair sticking against your skin. Your arms wrapped against Spencer so you could hold him against him. You couldn’t believe that this grown-up man, in his thirty, could be a broken kid inside. You tried to hold back the tears.

You stayed like that for minutes; you don’t even know how long. This could last an hour or two if he needed to. You probably could have stayed all night if it meant calming Spencer down.

Little by little, you felt his shaking stop and even one of his hands land on your arm. The pressure of his fingers on your skin wasn’t harder, almost like he didn’t have any strength anymore. It was more like a delicate touch. One that reminded you of the old days, when Spencer was too shy to touch you.

Once you felt he was ready to hear this, maybe not listen yet but at least be able to understand what you were saying, you stopped hugging him so you could grab his face in your hands. “You deserve to be helped. I—who told you this?”

You met the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen at this moment. Couple with his sad smile. Oh, how you wished you could just kiss the pain away for once.

“I just…” he started, with a grazed, hoarse voice. “Every person in my life ends up sad or hurt or dead. I’m a problem. I’m a burden. I don’t deserve someone to take the time to help me, be there for me. I can’t risk someone, you, taking the time to make me feel better if it means losing you at some point. I can’t, I can’t do that again.” You heard the sob in his voice at the end.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Spencer gave you the look, one he strangely never gave to you but that you understood immediately, meaning that he still had a lot to say. And deep down, you were happy to shut it if it meant he was finally opening up.

“I was taking care of a kid these days. We knew he might be in danger, so I was supposed to make sure he would be fine while working the case.” Spencer took a moment to continue, but you could only focus on the tear running down his cheek. “He got killed. Because I couldn’t protect him. Everyone around me has something bad happening to them. Even in my job. How can I be such a bad person?”

You started brushing away the tears with your thumb, but Spencer cuddled against your hand. There was something even sadder with this man feeling like he didn’t deserve to have someone yet still craving every attention he could get.

“You’re not a burden, Spencer,” you whispered, and he closed his eyes again. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you to go through all these moments by yourself. I can’t imagine how hurt you must be from living such difficult times over and over again. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to have someone by your side.”

He didn’t answer. You weren’t sure this was the best decision, but you sat on his knees, trying to be closer to him so you could make him feel less alone.

You thought that if he didn’t want that, he would push you away. But the way Spencer's hands ended up on your back so quickly made you think that maybe he needed that too.

“I can’t and won’t force myself into your life, Spencer, never,” you said, brushing his hair away from his face. “But if you’re ready to try, I can be by your side and help you consider that you deserve to be a supporter. Not only by me but by all the people that love you.”

Again, your words working on him, Spencer opened his eyes slowly. This time, even if the sorrow was still present, there was the smallest and almost slightest light in them. “Because people love you, Spencer Reid.”

As an answer, the only one he could give you, Spencer brought you against him and hugged you as hard as he could. It wasn’t the tightest hug he ever gave, but it was the best he could do. And it was enough. Enough to know that you opened a door in his mind.

You offered your bed to Spencer that night, but he insisted on you staying by your side. He refused to let you know it was due to the fear of the nightmares he had for months now. Nightmares that always had different stories but ended the same way: with him losing someone and being alone.

All he needed was you, and you were willing to give yourself entirely to help him get better.

You didn’t know if you imagined it, but you were sure that when he was falling asleep, holding you against him like an antistress comforter, Spencer thanked you.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid angst #Matthew Gray Gubler #Matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler x reader #Matthew gray gubler x you #Matthew gray gubler x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds story #msg #mgg x reader #my writing

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danadiadea · 3 days ago

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I've always thought that Tom must have deeply loathed all those golden assed purebloods. He needed to “earn” their respect in his earlier Hogwarts days, they've had so much more than him, possessed what Tom wanted and took it for granted. Even though he was popular and powerful, he still wasn't their equal, much less a superior. So he clearly enjoys belittling them and treating them like dirt. He does think that blood matters for sure (and his is better than theirs, cause he's a Slytherin) and hotly despises muggles, but branding and abusing all these aristocratic purebloods is not only a mean to reach his goal, but also an instrument of psychopathic amusement to him and a way to prove the superiority he developed, a lot like with muggles in fact. Let's note he detested not only Riddles, but also his pureblood magical mother for being too weak and dying. And for Voldemort, the matter of his personal feelings is so much more valuable than any kind of external ideology. In the end, it doesn't really matter if purebloods are higher than muggleborns, because Tom Riddle is so much higher than all of them. And regardless of eliminating and hiding his muggle heritage from (most of) his followers, he still KNOWS he is a half-blood. Psychopaths develop a lot of cognitive dissonances they live with just okay, but this is not something that just ceased to exist from his subconscious.

(Btw if the information that Voldemort tried to recruit not only James, but Lily too is truthful, it's another proof then that his ideology wasn't all that important to him. And maybe was even less significant during the first war when he was more in touch with himself. Including magical creatures in his army is another example, of course. Tom Riddle goes first, chauvinism later)

And then there is Severus. A dirt poor half-blood boy, alien for the pureblood environment, wronged by muggles, trying desperately to rise up using just his genius mind and hard work. I am sure Voldemort had seen himself in Snape in a way, and there is no bigger compliment from a narcissist than to be anything like him. I don't know if Voldemort consciously understood it, probably not. But the fact that he seemed to like Snape more than Bellatrix – Snape that was the direct reason of his first fall; Snape as a disempowered 20 years old boy who didn't possess the useful means his other followers did; Snape making a ridiculous request to save Dumbledore's mudblood who gave birth to the one existential threat; Snape impeding Quirell; Snape as a teacher seeing Harry Potter every day and yet not able to bring him to Voldemort; Snape slythering out of action according to Bellatrix; Snape who still tells "something" to Albus Dumbledore and works as a professional liar; Snape who comes late to meet the Dark Lord after all – is so telling. He doesn't trust him fully, of course, or view him as an equal, but he grants Severus more sympathy than you can ever expect from Voldemort.

Severus was an absolute blessing for the Order. No one else could have been what he was.

Please tell us more about Voldemort's relationship with Severus, and why you think it differs so much from Voldemort's other relationships

Whatever it is that lingers between Tom and Severus—power, manipulation, some dark bond none of us can fully grasp—it naturally ignites chaos in the mind of the beholders. And if you’re eager to feel that burn, I’ll gladly embrace you in it. To you brave, reckless souls, I say this: your wish is my command.

So, here we are, picking apart how Severus Snape—mudblood, poor, and bruised from the heavy hand of a Muggle father—managed to land himself a spot at the table with the most rabid pack of blood purists you’ve ever seen. A table, mind you, he had no business sitting at. The Death Eaters, that tight little clique of privileged purebloods, had no real reason to let in this scruffy little outsider. Sure, Snape was useful. Very useful. His skills were sharp as knives, and he could do their dirty work, get his hands filthy so they didn’t have to. But useful doesn’t mean welcome. Useful doesn’t mean accepted. You know who else was useful? Fenrir Greyback and his mangy lot. They brought terror to the doorsteps of half the wizarding world, and did Voldemort’s cause no small service. But did they get a place at the inner circle? Did they get respect? Hell no. They were the dirt beneath the boots of the real Death Eaters. Useful filth. And then there’s Snape, embodying everything these purists claim to despise—a half-blood with a tainted surname, living in squalor, dragged through the muck by a Muggle brute of a father. By all accounts, Death Eaters should have spat in his face and tossed him out like yesterday’s rubbish. But no. Not only does he get a seat at the table, he rises. He’s placed on a pedestal, standing closer to Voldemort than some of the most loyal, purest-blooded lackeys in the room. Voldemort, in all his cold-blooded glory, didn’t just tolerate Severus. He raised him up, right in front of their sneering, offended faces. Now, here’s where it gets really interesting. If you think Voldemort did this out of some sense of gratitude, you’ve missed the point entirely. Tom Riddle doesn’t do gratitude. That kind of sentiment is beneath him, an alien concept. Voldemort doesn’t reward; he uses. Deeds done in his name are expected, not appreciated. You’re not going to get a pat on the back from a man who thinks the world owes him its loyalty. Snape’s service should’ve earned him nothing more than a brief reprieve from pain. A loosening of the noose around his neck, if he was lucky. That’s Voldemort’s way—keep them all desperate, keep them all afraid. So why did Snape, of all people, get raised up? Why did he, the least likely among them, become a favorite?

Mind, it’s not just me declaring Snape as Voldemort’s favorite. That dark, twisted bond is laced into nearly every interaction between the two, as if something unspoken and festering passes between them. But it’s Narcissa Malfoy who lays it bare. A woman born into the highest echelons of pure-blood privilege, the very foundation on which Voldemort’s so-called supremacy stands, doesn’t hesitate when she calls him “the Dark Lord’s favorite, his most trusted advisor.” Let that sink in.

Here is the wife of Lucius Malfoy, a man whose lineage is steeped in the darkest of traditions. But when her family’s future is on the edge of a wand, when her son’s life dangles by a thread, she doesn’t rely on Lucius, doesn’t turn to Bellatrix. No, she comes to Severus, because deep down, she knows. They all do.

It’s something more insidious, something that slips through the cracks in the floorboards of Voldemort’s ideology. He is the one Voldemort trusts, the one Voldemort leans on, the one whose counsel can shift the dark winds of fate. That is real power, raw and untouchable. Narcissa sees it—how could she not? Even with all her aristocratic pride, even with the weight of her name and her family’s legacy pressing down on her, she understands that none of it means a damn thing next to what Snape has. Narcissa, with her family’s long, proud heritage, has to grovel before someone who, by the very logic of Voldemort’s cause, should be inferior. But Snape is different, and everyone knows it. They may not say it, they may not even want to admit it, but they know. He operates outside the lines, above the fray, immune to the very rules that were meant to keep people like him down. Snape, the half-blood, the one with the muddied past, holds a kind of sway that no one else in Voldemort’s ranks can claim.

Oh, there comes the bitter irony of Peter Pettigrew. After years of scraping and groveling, thinking he’d earned his place in the Dark Lord’s favor, Peter is handed over like a rag for Severus to wring out. Peter, one of the smug Marauders who’d gleefully hounded Snape through school, reduced now to something just shy of a house-elf, bowing and cringing under Snape’s very roof. A cruel twist of fate, no doubt arranged with Voldemort’s signature malevolence. Was this some attempt to plant a spy in Snape's house? Maybe, if you take it at face value. But think for a moment—Voldemort, who couldn’t pry Snape's treachery from his skull with all the power of Legilimency, putting his trust in Wormtail to do the job? The rat that couldn't outsmart a dormitory prank, never mind a master of deception like Severus?

No, this isn’t espionage; this is karma. Cruel, twisted karma orchestrated by the Dark Lord himself. You can almost picture Severus watching Peter scuttle about his house, casting him those withering, superior glances—knowing full well that Tom has given him this indulgence, this little taste of vengeance. Snape treats Wormtail with open contempt, because he knows he can. He knows it’s allowed, expected even. It’s as if the tables have turned in the most bitter of ways, a humiliating reversal of fortune. Pettigrew, who once revelled in Snape’s humiliation, now reduced to the lowest of roles, while Snape—Voldemort’s golden boy—sits at the top. Isn’t it delicious? You’d have to be blind to chalk it up to coincidence. Moreover, Pettigrew’s fate is all the proof you’ll ever need that Voldemort’s rule isn’t founded on something as simple or sentimental as loyalty. Loyalty? Sacrifice? Please. Pettigrew’s life was one long, groveling act of desperation to stay in the Dark Lord’s good graces. You bring your master back from the brink of death itself, and still, all you get is contempt. Voldemort demands service, sure. But service? Guarantees nothing. And when you set Severus and Peter side by side, the question gnaws at you. Why? Why is Snape the favored one, the exception, the enigma in Voldemort’s otherwise brutal, predictable hierarchy? What makes him different? There’s something between them—something that doesn’t follow the usual logic of power and punishment. Voldemort doesn’t just tolerate Snape’s defiance; he rewards it, bends the system to accommodate it. Something unspoken, something hidden behind the masks they both wear, grants Snape a level of favor that Pettigrew could only dream of.

What’s crucial to grasp here is that Voldemort doesn’t spare anyone. His entire ideology is rooted in cruelty, in domination, in the ruthless obliteration of all who oppose him. He doesn’t just eliminate enemies; he obliterates them, wipes them from existence without a second thought. And yet, here’s the anomaly: Lily Evans, mother of Harry Potter, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and a Muggle-born witch, is offered a chance to live. Live. This decision, however, is directly tied to Snape. Snape had begged Voldemort to spare her, and it is this plea—Snape’s plea—that softens the Dark Lord’s otherwise unyielding cruelty.

To truly grasp the enormity of this act, we need to take a step back and consider Snape’s position in all of this. Remember, Severus was just 21 years old when he found himself pleading with Voldemort, one of the most dangerous dark wizard in history, to spare Lily Evans.

Snape wasn’t the imposing, confident figure we often associate with him thanks to Alan Rickman’s performance—he wasn’t a man exuding quiet menace, seemingly capable of standing toe-to-toe with Voldemort. No, at this point in canon, he was barely more than a boy, a young man fresh out of Hogwarts, with no powerful lineage or wealth to protect him.

And yet, despite this—despite the sheer imbalance of power between them—Snape dared to approach Voldemort. Voldemort. With a plea. Not for himself, but for a Muggle-born witch. At best, Snape’s request might have been laughed off, dismissed as the desperate wish of a foolish young Death Eater. But it wasn’t. For some reason, Voldemort didn’t just tolerate Snape’s plea—he actually acted on it.

Consider how critical this moment was to Voldemort’s larger agenda. At the heart of his entire scheme is a singular, consuming fixation: the annihilation of the child prophesied to be his undoing. Harry Potter is Voldemort’s obsession, the one threat he must eliminate to secure his dominion. The Potters were no longer just enemies—they were the key to his future, and Harry was the focus of his most crucial mission. In this context, sparing anyone even remotely connected to Harry was an extraordinary risk. Leniency wasn’t just unnecessary—it was dangerous. By showing mercy to Lily, Voldemort risked undermining his own carefully constructed agenda. And this wasn’t a moment where Voldemort could afford to make mistakes.

This unprecedented act of “mercy,” this concession Voldemort granted Snape, became the very thing that led to his downfall. Had Voldemort simply killed Lily Evans on the spot, as he did James, she would never have had the chance to sacrifice herself for Harry. The protection her sacrifice invoked—the ancient magic that saved Harry’s life and turned Voldemort’s killing curse back on him—would never have existed. Voldemort, the cold strategist, fell because he didn’t bend for anyone—except, inexplicably, for Snape. And that single, dangerous deviation cost him everything. That’s how it’s all started.

And there it is— how it’s all ends. Voldemort’s final words to Severus Snape before he executes him. But pay attention to how he begins. “Clever man,” he calls him. He suggests that Snape might’ve already known the truth of the Elder Wand’s treachery. Tom would never acknowledge someone’s cleverness if it undermined his own intellectual abilities. If he implies that Snape may have already unraveled the mystery of the Elder Wand, it undoubtedly indicates that Voldemort had recognized Snape’s crucial role in the wand’s problems long before. It’s not just idle chatter or casual flattery. No, it’s a bloody confirmation that Voldemort himself had long ago pieced together the mystery of Snape’s involvement with the wand. This wasn’t some last-minute realization that forced his hand. It wasn’t ignorance that delayed Snape’s death, not at all. It was deliberation. Voldemort, for all his cruelty, wasn’t stupid. He suspected, long before that moment, that Snape was at the center of the problem with the wand’s loyalty. He just chose not to act on it until the very last moment.

He held back from executing him, searching for any other way around the wand’s limitations, trying to find a solution that didn’t involve killing Snape. But when it came down to it, when all other options were exhausted, Voldemort finally made his move.

And what does he do? He delivers a speech. A bloody speech, full of regret and excuses—“I regret what must happen.” Does that sound like the Voldemort we know? The Dark Lord who kills without a second thought, who carves his empire from the bones of the disobedient? Hell no. This is the man who thrives on fear, on swift, brutal punishment. And yet, here he is, delivering justifications like some guilty executioner. This isn’t Voldemort’s usual method. This isn’t the whip coming down fast and hard. This is something altogether more… hesitant.

That speech, soaked in rationalizations, tells us everything we need to know. Snape’s death wasn’t just business—it was personal. It’s a messy, ugly end to the unexplainable dynamic between them. Even at the very end, Voldemort is bending, twisting, trying to justify his actions to the one man who had managed to worm his way under his skin. And in that second, we see something rare—a glimpse of the complexity in their relationship. Voldemort’s usual ruthless efficiency is absent.

His “I regret it,” spoken once more, stands out like a blade in the gut, sharp and unexpected, slicing straight through Voldemort’s usual cold indifference. The Dark Lord, who has never spared a thought for the wreckage in his wake, lets these words hang in the air, unnatural as they are. A man who’s never known the weight of remorse now offers something that almost feels like regret. Not true regret, of course—Voldemort doesn’t have the luxury of feeling something so weak, so human. But still, It’s not a sentiment he offers to anyone else. It’s almost as if Voldemort doesn’t know how to process this lingering attachment, as though Snape’s mere existence demands something from him that Voldemort is incapable of giving. Snape occupies some strange corner of Voldemort’s mind, twisted and dark it may be, that not even the Dark Lord himself seems to understand. Despite the fact that I’ve painted a whole canvas of tangled thoughts on the strange relationship between Severus and Tom, I’ve barely begun to tug at the thread of their inexplicable dynamic. There’s so much more I could unearth, layers of intrigue and tension that ripple through every scene between them, and I could easily go on for hours about the small, delicious details woven into their story. But, as it happens, my full-time job is already sharpening its knife and aiming for my back, so I'll have to bring this whole saga to a close with the following quote:

For me, the intensity of this scene speaks volumes about their relationship, capturing the very essence of what makes these two so bloody fascinating. The way their gaze alone can make Death Eaters flinch under the weight of their unspoken understanding. It’s not fear, not exactly. It’s something colder, something deeper. As though they’re witnessing a bond forged in the dark, a grim understanding that none of them can ever be a part of.

That’s what keeps dragging me back to these two. The tension, the labyrinth of contradictions, the complex tangle of manipulation. I want to look away—hell, I should look away, just like the Death Eaters did. But there’s something about it, something that coils around me, tightening like a serpent’s embrace. Can you blame me?

#the OP is gorgeous #now I have a compulsive desire to write about Snape/Dumbledore #which was also full of projections and power dynamic and uniqueness #Severus is exceptional #i get you Tom i love him too #severus snape #voldemort #tom riddle #lord voldemort #death eaters #hp fandom #pro severus snape #cause idc if he was a DE #as long as he was a menace

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iceghosto · 1 day ago

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Hey I’m hoping to be a comic artist but I’m having trouble figuring out how to start. What was your experience to getting where you are now? (Absolutely gorgeous art btw)

Hey! Well at the risk of sounding like a smart ass, the best way to start is to start drawing comics. Seriously though i mean that earnestly. I've found the best way to learn new things is dive right into them. Otherwise you spend a long time just practicing without actually making anything. Something i struggled with for a while. Like start with one page comics, then maybe try some 5-15 pages, then keep working up. My biggest regret about my comic journey is the 4 ish years i spent studying instead of actually making stuff. Comics is one of those mediums where you can read and study forever, but there are some things you can only learn by feeling it out. By making mistakes or stumbling into something that looks good. Itll be rough at first i did my first comics at 19 omg haha

My 2000's webcomic fan is showing. But if you push through it promise itll be worth it!

My experience was mostly doing autobio comics and small stuff for a longggggg time. I tried doing freelance stuff out of college and honestly failed hard my first time. The first paid comic gig i did ended with me broke, burnt out, and with nothing to show for it. But i go through it over a few years, started working back at it and eventually did a short little skateboard comic that i posted on twitter.

It got a surprising amount of traction and i got asked to do art for some indie comics. That led to It Took Luke and I've been getting work ever since. Now that is extremely lucky. Im not going to pretend otherwise. But its one of those things where the more you make and put out there, the more likely you are to get an opening. It took 8 years of making comics on my own before this happened, so its not a quick process and can be immensely frustrating, but one thing i love about comics is that theyre relatively easy to make. Even if i wasnt making them for work, id still be making comics in my freetime cause theyre so much. Anyway, wishing you the best of luck!! Hope this was helpful!

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clemelntine · 16 hours ago

Text

The Heart killers ep 11 stray thoughts

With accompanying screenshots, cuz I take to many and they can't just go to waste

Once again/still Keen just wants to be included. Now that he has seen Lilly will never see him as equel to his brothers, he is trying to get validation from Bison and Fadel.

Right, cuz you look like you're good at that. We will just pretend that we haven't seen your backbone turn into jelly when you're around Captain

Wait, so they didn't kill him. Where has he been this whole time, in between staging his murder and this scene? Was he just chilling with Nont in Fadel and Bisons kidnapping lair (which they apparently have).

He just knows a guy, casual .

He also just has a whole plan planned out. You'd think he was the one with the training in this shit, not Fadel

The look of concern in his eyes. Because of course, Style was able to spot the slight change in Fadels expression, indicating he was upset/weary/uncomfortable.

Doesn't he say younger brother (nong chai/shai [im not sure how it is written]) here, why would they translate it like that, this makes it seem like he doesnt see Fadel as his brother.

Finally somebody is giving that tattoo the love it deserves.

Facts

Also the first time (or one of the rare occasions) that we see Fadel with genuine, borderline crazy/psychotic anger in his eyes. He's usually the one to be more calm and

Oh, they're using their height, narrowing in on her, forcing her to look up, making her feel small. Stunning, just what she deserves.

-I love you so much; I'd give up my freedom for your safety

-I love you so much; I'd give up my life for your freedom.

Also, btw, 5 years of prison for the number of murders they committed, thats pretty nice. Of course, i wanted them to be free, but looking at it logistically, that is a solid deal

It does imply a timeskip, whomp whomp

Just give me a clear yes or no. Is Bison religious (christian, to be specific)? Cuz this is just a saying and stuff, but also putting it next to all the other christian Bison stuff we've seen, im starting to believe it

Ah, look at that. Fadel got his family (parent), and Bison got his little brother (Babe). These boyfriends are adding way more to their life then you would first assume.

Also, Styles dad immediately suggesting they get married as soon as he realizes they are genuinely dating it ao cute. He has/knows as lil casual-/subtlety as Style does. I guess it's genetic

Omg they are so sweet. Not hiding/secret but private cuz its their communication, their comfort.

I needed this scene to be like an hour long actually, just them cleaning each other with the garden hose, sweetly talking about whatever.

Right. I'm not surprised, I could tell Style was a bitter but like looking at his and Joongs laugh afterwards (and just the absurd inconvenience of it) I'm gonna guess this wasn't scripted, just Dunk. Which.. raises some questions, but we'll keep moving.

Dude was straight up beefing with a child

So he is either assuming hell die a natural death or he's killing himself. Cus i assumed he'd probably die on the job, get killed by someone, but that for sure requires there to be another person. I guess he could also be insinuating that when he dies, he'll be alone in the sense that he is leaving no one behind, no loved ones.

Idk what is sadder him thinking no one would love him when he died or him assuming he'll die by his own hand.

Are they at a graveyard? It doesn't look like it. Because, im not very educated on Thai law, but i can't think it would be legal to just bury someone wherever.

Style earlier the episode saying he'll die for Fadel(s safety) and Fadel saying he'll live for (/with) Style. God, i love them

Glad we are at least acknowledging the absurdity of it.

Are we talking (/joking) about Bison lactating? Cuz that would make that this shows second mpreg/omegaverse reference.

Forever watchfull Style

Forever considerate Style. Even with the garage to work at (and low key co-run) he is willing to give up time, just to keep Fadels dream/passion alive

Did Style fucking make a heart out of the sauce?! Why didn't we get a better shot of that, that is so cute.

So all the other boys his dad mentioned were just one night stands and situationships. Fadel was the first guy he actually wanted to settle down with. (Also, dont take this to mean anything, but it kinda mirrors Joong and Dunk. Joong having had an acting partner before Dunk, but splitting up under unfortunate circumstances, mostly out of their hands. Joong being Dunks' first actor partner, only having had a small unnamed guest role before working together with Joong)

Ive never seen to guys look so sad while eating burgers , like it was actually making me emotional. Cuz there was no big sad outburst or anything, just the everpresent underlying knowledge that this will be the last meal they'll get to share in a long time. Just the subtle sadness in their eyes and the little sniffles. I low key didnt expect them to be this good at conveying such subtle yet intense emotions.

The look in their eyes, i am actually so not okay

Not to be critical or anything but no way in shit that was done by an amateur. Like i get he'd have a pretty steady hand due to his training with guns. Bit not only does Bison usually hold his gun with both hands, it is an entirely different grip and requires such different muscles.

Yo wtf, I wasn't prepared for an emotional scene of just Kant and Style crying

This episode was just so full of cute scenes omg. I have so many notes that are just screenshots of a sweet scene or moment where the only comment I had was just saying aaahhw or some shit. And although I would love to share those with you, Tumblr has an image limit, so unfortunately, this is all I could stuff into one post.

I am a lil weary/concerned with how they are going to finish this all in one episode though. Like we have five years of prison to still cover and only an hour of screentime left.

Favorite scenes

Lillys confrontation was very satisfying

Style and Fadel cleaning eachother of after the paint fight ofc

Kant and Bison in the planetarium (specifically watching the stars)

Fadel and Style at the support group talking things out

Everything in Heart Burger, from the cute cooking together to eating through tears. Absolute perfection.

Kant and Bison tattooing eachother and just the sweetness of that all

And although their goodbye and Kant and Style crying in eachothers arms wasn't fun, it was a really good scene.

Also, there are no in-depth screenshot stats today (this post has already taken too long). Just know I took a total of 245 screenshots (funfact: that is actually more picture than I have of myself on my phone)

#what a fucking rollercoaster of an episodes #decided to just put in all the emotions #the heart killers #the heart killers the series #fadelstyle #fadel thk #style thk #kantbison #kant thk #bison thk #and like ig #keen thk #lilly thk #joongdunk #joong archen #dunk natachai #firstkhaotung #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat

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jd-loves-fiction · 9 hours ago

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Sorry, two requests in one go but I NEED TO GET THIS OFF MY SYSTEM OR I FORGET

Same platonic dynamic with Boothill, Welt, Jing Yuan and Blade with reader who turned into a small child all of a sudden (around 2-3 years old, so toddler)

🌑 RAAHHH FEED ME (I couldnt resist the angst sowy :)) Also am I crazy or do they all give girl dad... they all feel like girl dad's to me, expect maybe Jing Yuan 😅

✦ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥 ✦

Possibly the most experienced in this field actually???

Not to remind y'all of the absolute angst of his backstory, but he adopted a little kid in the past so... he's actually pretty knowledgeable when it comes to kids

Doesnt make this smooth sailing tho

Firstly, he's super confused on how this happened and how to undo it - spends so much time stressing about it that he almost forgets he has to take care of you now until you start screaming

Now that he's looking at you, oh you're so cute it should be illegal

Cuteness aggression to the max with the most self-restraint a man could possibly have (knowing he could easily seriously hurt you)

Once he accepts that his only option is waiting it out, he's focusing on making sure you're comfy

Surprisingly very in tune with your wants and needs

Overall, you'll be well taken care of with him, though the moment you're soundly asleep, memories of the past come back to haunt him, reminding him of all he lost

Though he reasons with himself that the past has passed and all he can do is keep going without letting it drag him down

And you're helping him do just that ❤️

✦ 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐭 ✦

Utterly confounded

Mostly just curious

How did this happen? Do you still have your memories? Did your brain also revert back?

But he also cant deny how freaking cute you are🥺

Very gentle, holding you close, whispering softly even if you're screaming - makes you sleepy immediately

If you start screaming incoherently he's gonna have a hard time figuring out what you need but will try his best and remain calm the whole time

Does anything you want him to, literally

Want to play dolls? He's making a cute voice and everything. Want him to read to you? Putting on the softest tone known to man and putting you to sleep before you're through the first page

This also applies to food - whatever you want to eat, he's letting you, since he knows this situation must be pretty stressful and he doesnt want you start screaming at him :(

Once it's over he probably wont mention it again to you in case you think it's embarrassing, but will keep the sweet memory close to his heart - it makes him feel fuzzy to think he could take care of you when you're so vulnerable

Also you're just so damn cute, he cant get over it 😭

✦ 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐚𝐧 ✦

Give him a second he's gonna have to laugh about this for a while

Decent experience with teens and older children because of Yanqing and other students he's trained, but toddlers?

No clue, he's so lost

Genuinely tries to apply lion cub logic

It's the closest experience he's had to raising a kid ok?! He's trying 🥺

Probably ends up getting yelled at by Yanqing because no, human children do not work in any way similarly to lion cubs >:(

After that he's trying a little harder

He's surrounded by people who know more than him on this so he's putting you on his hip and carrying you around while he asks them what to do

Comes back to his office after and puts you down, not realizing that you're crawling over to Mimi

Nearly has a heart attack once he does realize but it's all good, Mimi's a good boy and just naps while you play with his mane

He was honestly ready to use you as an excuse to not do this work and seeing you napping with Mimi just solidifies it for him

The next time Yanqing comes by to make sure you're ok, he finds you all cuddled up on Mimi, so he leaves with a fond sigh

Jing yuan was totally awake btw

✦ 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 ✦

Oh sweet god he is not equipped for this AT ALL

Immediatly running to Kafka or Firefly for help (Silver Wolf is suddenly not so mysteriously absent) and they are somehow even less helpful than he is

Grumbling the whole time but does try his best to care for you

Does NOT know why you're screaming pls stop 😭

Has a surprising among of patience - he knows what children are like, so he's not blaming you for anything you do or losing it on you

He's good at keeping himself calm when the situation doesnt require him to lose his shit

Excels at... napping :)

Honest to god cant think of much else to do with you besides putting a sword in your hand, which both Kafka and Firefly scold for even thinking about

Cant really blame him, that's what his parents did and he turned out just fine :) (Note the sarcasm)

Something in his cold (literally) dead heart warms at the sight of you fumbling about and smiling sweetly at him

He never thought himself particularly inviting but he sure doesnt mind that you think so

The whole situation has him pondering his past but most of all, his humanity - what he lost of it and what he still has

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unholyhelbig · 1 day ago

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Can we get a backstory for all to familiar? Like how they met and how she was before Kate trained her? Good work btw!

Title: The Woman in White (Read part one here)

Ship: Female!Reader x Vampire!Kate Bishop

Warnings: Vampire tendencies, blood, dom/sub dynamics, reference to substance abuse, biting (She's a vampire), murder (Still a vampire), pet names, alcohol, mention of incarceration, stabbing, horrible grammar

[A/n: okay, so this is not my best work, but I gave it a shot. I've been dealing with school and work lately but I'm so glad you guys enjoyed the first part!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

There were little things about the large manor on Ivy Rowe that set off alarms in your mind. Small inconsistencies that should have set off alarm bells in your mind, red flashers screaming loud enough to tell you this was a horrible idea. Adrenaline was a hell of a drug and the way it filled your veins won out against rationale every single time. It certainly clouded your senses when you combined it with piss warm beer and a rolled blunt that was mostly stems.

The back door was open, so really, it took away one half of the misdemeanor from your already extensive record. It was cold in the house, dark and empty enough to dry half the water that clung to your body. The scent of chlorine clung to your skin and prickled dangerously. Fuck, it was massive in here.

You had an objective. There had to be a bathroom close by. But the kitchen was so captivating. Everything about the home was. Your intentions were innocent enough. You and a few friends often got tipsy enough to wander Ivy Rowe for a heated pool in the middle of September nights. Summer homes that were abandoned. Unguarded. People that had too much money for their own good.

You’d done worse. Crimes that were not so victimless, ones that would keep you up at night. Stolen cars and bloodied knuckles. Things that had you shivering into yourself from something other than the cold tile under your feet. Perhaps the reason why you were padding into a strangers kitchen now, peering into mostly empty cabinets when you ought to be returning to the warmth of the water instead. Where exactly had you gone wrong?

The school guidance counselor blamed the foster care system. You blamed the fact that she shook her Tupperware container filled with chopped salad (too much onion, too little mouthwash preparedness). Later, after court mandated therapy, you would pin the blame on the lack of love you got from your father before he got hit by a train when you were six. Now you just blamed your lack of motivation and your horrible job as a grocery bagger.

The fridge was empty, safe for a box of baking soda. Instead, you opened the freezer, rewarded with a chilled bottle of fireball. Something you’d vomited up on more than one occasion, but you were a fighter and the buzz of that outweighed the horrible memories. You whispered out a victorious “Bingo” at your prize.

Without a second thought you cracked the top off and swallowed back enough of the burning liquor to make your stomach tumble and your head fuzzy. Your throat had a pleasant enough burn and your initial mission was soon forgotten. Whoever owned this place was loaded, the exact opposite of you, who was working off an empty stomach.

You took a smaller, less greedy sip, as you began to wander the manor, feet numb to the coldness. There was interesting artwork scattered around the pristine white walls. Deep reds and brilliant royal blues. Windows that were covered in thick curtains and blocked your view of the pool. A grand piano that rested just adjacent to a large stone hearth, left unlit during the warmer months, you assumed.

Unbothered, you moved through the halls like a phantom. Not shoving things into your pockets, like you would have if you were interested in taking things. There was almost a calming trance that had taken over you with the aiding hand of the alcohol. You’d polished off a good bit of it by now. Besides, you hadn’t any pockets to push valuables into.

Dust didn’t coat any surfaces, your fingers dragging across countertops and the gilded edges of frames. Painted oil portraits that gave you pause, but did not turn you to stone as they should have. Your muscles were loose, and jaw even more loose, the spiced taste of cinnamon on your tongue.

Eventually, you found yourself in a library, scoffing as you skimmed the dark wooden bookcases brimming with all types of literature. Bound in gold and leather and tickling your senses with something akin to decay. One single book, you were sure, could sell for enough to cover your rent for at least a month. But you weren’t interested in that. No, you’d always had a soft spot for the written word.

You set the nearly-empty bottle of fireball on a coaster for posterity. Your fingers, long since un-pruned from being out of the water for so long, grasped onto a dark green book that was expertly bound. You pulled it from the shelf, testing the weight, dragging the pads of your fingers over the pages that were cut to perfection. It had been so long since you had held something of such prestige without the urgency to tuck it against your chest and zip a coat over it.

“In one moment, every drop of blood in my body was brought to a stop.”

Your breath hitched, fingers tightening around the book. The world around you seemed to tilt but you had enough sense not to stumble back into the shelf behind you. Certainly not enough to stop your head from whipping up at a dizzying speeding. You wanted to hurl, swallowed the bile down, gripped the shelf all in one moment to steady yourself.

A girl- no, a woman- was standing predictably with a lit candle at the mouth of the library. She was a specter dressed in a white silk nightgown. Something that was once white, you supposed. It was stained in a darkness that you could smell over the liquor on your own breath as blood. It was smeared across her face, her lips and her fingers.

She had a tint to her cheeks that made her look human, and by god, you figured she was. Stunned and stupid and you stumbled half a drunken step because where was all the blood coming from? She had to be hurt. She wasn’t acting like she was hurt. No. This beautiful creature was entirely calm.

“There, as if it had that moment sprung out of the earth, stood the figure of a solitary Woman, dressed from head to foot in white” She continued speaking and you glanced down at the words on the cover of the book, not knowing what else to do. The candle had been set down and the flames reached the gold lettering on the front. “Wilkie Collins, if I’m not mistaken.”

You swallowed thickly, taking in the sight of her once more: the expanse of her legs, the height of her. The ethereal beauty. She reached for the bottle of fireball and polished off the rest, leaving a faint red ring where your mouth had been, clearly unsatisfied with what had been left.

“You’ve broken into my house.”

“Yeah, seems so. We interrupt something kinky?”

She laughed, a light an airy sound that somehow cut into your ears and sent a shiver down your spine. You nearly blacked out, stars forming in your eyes and taking over the majority of your vision. The woman was in front of you. Closer than just a moment ago. You hadn’t recalled her moving, nor the book exiting your hands but it wasn’t there anymore. How much had you had to drink?

Her teeth were sharper, shiner, up close.

“No, no. Not at all, doll. At least your friends at the decency to stay outside like the mutts they are.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are, lady?”

She smirked at you, more of a snarl, her bloodied hand shooting out with unnatural speed to grip your jaw with startling strength. She was taller than you, wrenching your gaze to her own. You weren’t one to back down, not easily, but a whimper had escaped your lips at the feeling of her pure power. “Ah, you’re forgetting that you’re the one who broke into my house. You’ve got quite the mouth on you for someone at such a deep disadvantage.”

You hiccupped, leaning into her cold touch “I wouldn’t call my drunken charm a disadvantage.”

This had never worked for you before, and you figured it wouldn’t work for you now. All you’d ever done was amp up law enforcement until they threw you in a cell, or aggravate a judge until they extended your sentence with the roll of their eyes. You never really minded because it meant a hot meal and a bed to sleep in, albeit a scratchy one.

She scrunched up her nose, loosened her grip a fraction. Your breath was stuttered, the middle shelf digging deliciously into your spine. She’d backed you into a corner, her leg slotted easily between both of yours. It was icy cold and pinned you down with ease. Her fingers trailed down your throat, stalling at your pulse point.

The woman’s nose pressed into the small of your neck. She breathed deeply, pressing herself flat against you. The coolness of her cut through your haze, if not for a moment. A groan pushed past your lips. She smelled sweetly of sage and of what you recognized as blood. The slick adhered to your bare stomach, mingled with the scent of chlorine.

One of her hands dragged down the length of your stomach, the other squeezing your hip. She hummed against your throat, a growl that seemed to penetrate you so wholly that you felt it vibrate in your bones. Your body betrayed you, head leaning to the side to expose your throat to her.

“Jesus Christ,” She rumbled, pulling herself back almost violently, digging her hand into the side of your neck. Her tepid grey stare. She panted chest-deep, searching your face with something akin to confusion. Another stunted snarl “Fuck.”

There was an overcast in your mind, something that flickered, a triggered response that screamed at you to run. This was your moment. But was it really? You couldn’t find your way out of the manor. You had stumbled drunkenly in here and now that that high was working it’s way out of you in a tangle of fear, there was nothing left to do but stay pinned under this woman. This creature. This demon.

She swallowed down something, her words, the lingering taste of blood, maybe whatever was holding her back from finishing you off. She stared at you, eyes the size of cue-balls, face stained in dried red pulp. Ever captivating. You trembled under her touch, waiting for her to make a move.

“If you’re waiting for me to beg, I won’t.”

“Beg?” She chuckled darkly “For what?”

“Fuck me. Kill me. Release me. Whatever you’re meant to do with me, just fucking do it.”

She clenched and unclenched her jaw in an almost methodical way. Your words weren’t exactly measured, nor were they resigned. They just were, ruminating as the fear dissipated and the reality took it’s place. You’d been stabbed once during your second time incarcerated, a rusted blade shoved between the sinew of your ribs. Once the pain had subsided, and the warmth of the initial spurt of blood dried to something cold, you were left with the reality of the wound. Much like now.

“Interesting,” She rasped, running her thumb over your pulse with the slightest of tilt to her head. “Your friends, they pleaded until their throats were raw for their lives. Yet you stand here in defiance at the very thought of getting on your knees for me. Why is that?”

“You strike me as someone who is used to getting what they want.”

She caged you in with another snarl, nose nudging against yours, you didn’t so much as flinch. “You strike me as someone with nothing to live for.”

You were effectively riling her up. It sent a thrill straight to your core. You should quit while you were ahead, but the dangerous stranger was right. There was nothing you had to lose but minimum wage at a shitty grocery store. This was exciting, and fun, and you might as well test your luck before your brutal death. “I don’t see how that complicates things for you.”

“Darling, I think you underestimate my pension for complicating things.” Again, she wretched your face closer to hers, grip strong, hand gripping your chin, teeth suddenly grazing your cheek. “It would be easy to kill you. Easier still, to fuck you. Destroying you? God. I would love nothing more.”

Your head was tilted to the side in a show of strength, her mouth on the side of your neck. The woman was not gentle with her intrusion, canine teeth breaking past tissue and muscle. You yelped in pain, hissed as her fingers dig into your hips with bruising strength. Her body pressed flush to yours was almost a calming balm.

For her harsh words, she was gentle, breath hot on the nave of your neck. She swallowed greedily, your balance beginning to waver. The more she drank, the better you felt. Naively, you clung to her, and she supported you. The silk of her nightgown slick under your fingertips. You were quickly losing consciousness.

The edges of your vision started to pulse around you, a gasp pulling past your lips and inflating your lungs with desperation. You were shocked at the tenderness she embraced you with as she pulled the life from you. Much too gentle for someone ushering in your demise.

The hangover that accompanied death was worse than anything you’d ever felt before. Nothing compared to downing the handle of liquor that you’d lifted from the dangerous strangers freezer, nor the pounding headache and the crick in your neck that you’d awoken with in a holding cell next to a half-naked woman named Sherri who patted your head comfortably.

Death lingered, and so did the twinge of discomfort from the canine teeth that dug into your jugular the night before. You screwed your eyes shut, refused to spring them open. Afraid of the prospect of light. The wounds had scabbed over and even the simple movement of your arm to your throat felt like a task that you did not want to repeat. Shoveling wet sand.

“I was beginning to think I had gone too far with you.”

Comfort be damned. That smooth voice made your head spin. You were alert and pushing yourself up from the comfort of your aloofness in moments. You were in a bed, using the heels of your feet to shove yourself into the headboard. She did not flinch from your flailing movements, just raised an infuriating eyebrow.

You were dressed now, at least. A t-shirt that smelled of her, of sage and the metal of blood. Your own, you presumed. Still, you clutched at the blankets that covered you as if you were indecent. Neither of you were. The room was shrouded in the same darkness as the rest of the home. Would you ever have the privilege of seeing light again?

“Here, you should… drink.” You couldn’t help but flinch when she reached to the side table and picked up a glass of water, guiding it to your hands. “You’ve been unconscious for a few days.”

The kindness of her actions was giving you whiplash, and you were not one to fall for Stockholm syndrome, but your throat was incredibly dry and you swallowed the entire glass down with a quickness that was almost embarrassing. She watched you carefully, but there was nothing else in the room to watch.

She’d changed out of her nightgown, into something more comfortable and less crusted with your friends gore. You wouldn’t necessarily call them friends, now that your haze had cleared. You’d met them the night before when you bummed a cigarette off one, and then the rest seemed to come along.

It jarred you, seeing the creature with pale skin and inhuman beauty wear an ACDC graphic t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. She looked soft in the dull light, and you felt it was to disarm you. Your exhale was crackling, fingers gripping the duvet.

“Hungover, huh? Yeah. The venom is a real bitch.” Something akin to sympathy flashed across vivid stormy eyes. “I get carried away sometimes. I’m Kate, by the way. Kate Bishop. Katherine.”

You blinked dumbly at her, holding your inhale in your chest until it burned. She was a bumbling mess. A stark difference from last night. There wasn’t confidence, nothing that pulled through form the headiness of her meal, it seemed. But you knew it was there. You couldn’t unsee the flash of red in her stare, the pointedness of her teeth. The fear and excitement that had rushed through you at her touch.

She seemed desperate to fill the silence your racing thoughts provided “You’ve got quite the record, y/n. I’m impressed.”

“You looked me up?”

It hurts to talk, unbelievably so. The water had only soothed the ache so much but you refused to show weakness in front of her. She tilted her head in curiosity, running her tongue subconsciously over the length of her teeth. You clocked a glimpse of their sharpness when she hummed.

“Of course. I’d like to know who I’m going to share my home with. I’ve taken the liberty of shadowing your criminal record, by the way. All of your records, actually.”

“I… what?”

You supposed maybe you had actually died with that spiced taste of cinnamon on your tongue and two teeth lodged in your neck. Erased from the world with the ease of a rich unhinged woman. It could be as simple as breaking through the wrong fence, drinking from the wrong bottle of alcohol and picking up the wrong book from the wrong shelf. She must have read the panic behind your eyes because she cooed sympathetically, condescendingly, at you.

“Your purpose, your only purpose, is to serve me.”

Your eyes snapped up to hers, body filling with an unbidden warmth. What had she called it before? Venom? It worked through you with a vicious pace. Hot and startling. Your veins lit up with devotion in a single moment and the rasp of her voice alone had you trembling to follow her orders.

You, of course, were not one to follow orders. It was in your nature to disobey and you grimaced, pulled away from her gaze and her power. She snorted. “You’ll fall ill if you fight it, pet.”

“You should have killed me.”

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” She let out a long sigh, running her perfectly manicured fingers over the dusty color of the duvet, as if she were bored. “Look, you challenged me last night. I don’t like to be challenged. I don’t like to be underestimated. Had you kept that pretty mouth of yours shut you’d be another meal like those smoke-tinged acquaintances of yours. But you didn’t. So I have no other choice but to teach you a lesson.”

“That’s it then, just two options, no middle ground?”

Kate let out a hum that morphed into something more of a growl that rumbled through her chest. She leaned forward, her arms on either side of you as you pressed yourself further into the backboard of the bed. There was an intricate design carved into the wood that you couldn’t make out, but you could certainly feel. She smelled pleasant and alluring.

She nosed into the edge of your jaw, and you sighed at the uncharacteristic warmth of her touch. Whatever she had done had brought something alive to her skin. Not the coolness that you felt the evening before. It was almost human. You felt the urge to pull her in closer, to press your lips to the plushness of hers. And her eyes- her goddamned eyes. They were the clearest thing in the room.

Your knees fell apart and she fit so easily between them, hovering over you, slotted like she belonged there all along. Your chest was heaving, her own breath soft and hot as it splayed against your cheek. “Do you know what I am?”

“I know what you’re capable of.”

“Yet, you continue to misbehave. Why is that?”

“It’s in my nature.”

“I suppose I can understand that.” She ghosted the words against your lips, punctuating them with nip against your bottom one. Her teeth were strong, drawing the metallic taste of blood and soothing it with her tongue. You sighed contentedly against them, mind hazing. “Don’t we feel so much better when we follow orders, though?”

Kate’s hand wicked into your hair, pulling back with enough force to make sure you looked her in the eye, but not enough to hurt you, voice raspy and firm with authority. “As my familiar, you will do nothing short of following orders. I refuse to award you with the mercy of death, sweet girl. You’re mine. We’re in this together, now.”

When she released you and removed herself from the room with a stealth that was inhuman, you found yourself with an unwanted ache. It was the venom of her bite, something she undoubtedly strengthened when she had dug them into your bottom lip moments ago. You could still taste your own blood against your tongue as you drew your knees to your chest.

Any argument died along with the lingering taste of yourself. Katherine Bishop knew no one would come looking for you. Another name that had been wiped away, another person who had vanished. You’d never made a lasting impression on anyone, had been cagey enough to push your friends away. Anyone without a penance for controlled substances had long since abandoned you.

It was just you and Kate.

She’d chosen wisely, and she knew it. Smug and rich, it seemed. You clenched your eyes shut and let the only two tears that dared to collect at your waterline slip down your cheeks in an unrivaled warmth. That was all you’d allow yourself. Anything else would be a sign of weakness.

You let your head fall back against the wooden headboard once more, eyes flicking to the pitcher of water on the bedside table. The empty glass that had a lip stain from your bloodied efforts. Resting snuggly under the lamp that rivaled the darkness was a book, bound in leather. A subtle comfort. A Woman in White.

#Kate Bishop #Kate Bishop x reader #Vampire Kate Bishop #Kate Bishop x you #Kate bishop x y/n #hawkeye #hawkeye series #marvel fanfic #kate bishop fanfiction

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khaoala · 1 day ago

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Hi, sorry for making my problem your problem, but I'm feeling a little low for a variety of reasons, including the fact that, despite my best blocking skills, I still haven't been able to fully avoid the ppl throwing shade at KB/FK's impact (or lack thereof according to them) in THK (seriously, feels like I'm unwillingly stuck in an endless game of whac-a-mole just with bad takes/poor fandom etiquette!). So I thought I'd try and take my mind off it by sending you an extremely self-indulgent ask! As an FK fan extraordinaire (and one of my fave giffers btw), what are your:

favourite scenes from each of their shows?

favourite FK moments from real life?

hopes and dreams for THK finale?

hopes and dreams for the Holy Grail of FK shows? E.g. ideal plot or genre, relationship dynamic, supporting cast, director, etc.

And now for the harder questions! Your mission, should you choose to accept, is to convert an unbeliever into an FK stan (of them as both separate actors and as a pairing). You can only pick ONE scene from their entire repertoire for each category. Go!

best acting from First

best acting from Khao

best acting from FK as a pairing

best demonstration of FK's chemistry

best kiss (aesthetics+characterisation+emotion+context+whatever other criteria you choose!)

I eagerly await your answers! (but obvs you're under no obligation to respond - tbh, even just forming the ask has helped lighten my mood! Feel free to ignore or to throw it over to someone else if you'd rather, or even if there's anyone else you think would be interested in contributing - I just enjoy hearing other ppl's 'FK as Acteurs' highlights! Someone gushing about my faves = instant serotonin boost!)

In return (and as tribute to your new handle), I offer you this, imo, grossly overlooked example of Khao pulling his signature Khaoala move: https://pbs.twimg.com/media/GhSzVQvX0AAm7mh?format=jpg&name=900x900 ...😉

i'm sorry about that, anon. curating your online bubble can be a lot of work and it's not always 100% and i'm sorry you're getting stressed bc of that. i'm not sure if you're going to the tags on either twitter or tumblr, but i'd recommend you stay away of those. twitter is a bit more difficult, but once you get your little bubble things get better but for tumblr, if you're just looking for pretty edits like the ones fandom provides, i'd recommend checking only the thkedit tag. it's a lot better than dealing with the trolls with poor fandom etiquette. i hope you find a space you feel more comfortable and welcomed, anon, i know i say this often, but fandom spaces are supposed to give you relief and not headaches.

you didn't even ask for advice and i'm already rambling, i'm so sorry, but to your questions which were such a delight to receive (you have no idea how happy i felt for being called a fk fan extraordinaire and to know i'm one of your favorite giffers. i love to know people like the things i do, it does wonders to my self-esteem).

ATTENTION!

this is a nearly 2000 word-vomit reply where i talk in length about my favorite topic of the last couple of years, firstkhaotung. i'm sorry for not being able to be concise. pls have the picture the anon sent as their favorite khaoala moment which i must agree, is extremely underrated, as a form of apology.

1.favourite scenes from each of their shows? (i'll just pick the ones they were paired together bc you know, there's a lot)

the eclipse - akkayan's first kiss in akk's room. that scene is so important to them, and also to me. the way ayan was so careful with akk, he took his time, gave akk room to assess the situation, back away if he wanted to. how softly he spoke to akk and how scared akk was of all of that. that scene was beautiful beautiful beautiful and so well acted, too.

moonlight chicken - listen, i know they only have three scenes, but they are all very important to me, alright? with that being said, the scene in alan's office. alan is smiling like gaipa hung the stars in the sky with his bare hands and it's full sunshine mode, and first's smile is so beautiful, and he's flirty, gaipa is oblivious, it's just so sweet. they are healing and that's amazing.

only friends - the fight in sand's apartment. though the therapy scene is just as amazing, i feel like the apartment fight has so much impact. the way sand was collected the whole time and only allowed himself to break down once ray was out of earshot. and how ray was so distraught by the idea of the one person he thought he could trust betraying him, it was awful. it makes me teary to this day.

the heart killers - the scene at the beach in ep. 8. thank you first for adding a whole monologue to this scene. i can totally understand why that's his favorite. the tiredness, the desolation, they are both so exhausted and bison doesn't want to fight anymore and he's angry, but he loves kant, and kant doesn't want to lie to bison and wants him to know that. it's beautifully acted. i stayed on that scene for days. it made my heart hurt so good.

2. favourite FK moments from real life?

i have too many that i suddenly forgot as soon as i read this question, so at some point i might even add to this when i remember. but the one i can think about right now was when they were on arm's share for first's birthday and khaotung's wish for first in the upcoming year was: "as you grow, you might find more people, but if you do, let them go, stay only with me instead."

3. hopes and dreams for THK finale?

i do hope for a wedding. i didn't want a double wedding bc i find them so tacky, but with the recent talks with fadelstyle + style's dad, that might be where they are going IF they are even going to have one. as you might have noticed, i'm not stressed about the finale. i think they'll have time enough to access the most urgent matters (gay sex in prison) and with fadelbison spending their time locked up, they'll have all the room to live normal lives like they wished. bison talked about assassins not being able to have a home, family and a lover so i hope they get all of that and more.

4. hopes and dreams for the Holy Grail of FK shows? E.g. ideal plot or genre, relationship dynamic, supporting cast, director, etc.

oh man, i'd love for them to work with the women in gmm, first of all. and i know i had a talk about gl people hating men (with reason in some cases) but gmm loves to experiment with them, so pls let them act with namtanfilm (these four in a show would make my brain stupid happy). sarah pitched an idea that was very similar to the one i had in my head, though hers have first and film as siblings, but the premise would be the same. one trying to help the other approach their crushes. it's silly, slice of life, light comedy stuff which i know they can pull off just as well as the heavy drama stuff.

i'd also love to see them in a show a la sammon with the thriller and investigation vibes. but i'm no fanfic writer and i'm happy with most plots i'm given and if it's them, i know it'll be well-acted.

as for directors, p'aof is the pick for most bl stans, and i agree, i hope they get the chance to work with him again, and have fk as the mains this time. i'd love to see them work with p'nuchy as well, from not me, or the director of be my favorite and who's going to direct joongdunk's and skynani's shows this year. he's amazing, i loved what he did with be my favorite, and while i'm not sure if i'll tune in for either of these new shows, i know he'll do great.

(i love that you deemed this first questions as easy and these one as harder, because let me tell you, i had a hard time with both sets!

1.best acting from First

i can only talk about what i've seen, and despite hearing all the praises for his portrayal of a girl stuck in boy's body in the shipper, i didn't have the guts to watch it yet. i was debating between the "break-up" scene in front of yolo and this one, but i need to praise first as akk. while gmm was going their reprise of the eclipse last year, i took that chance to rewatch the show as well, and i can't believe first didn't get a nomination for his portrayal of akk. he's spectacular in his scenes as this hard-working, perfectionist, in-the-closet, slightly homicidal and self-destructive student prefect. the one scene that makes me stop for like five minutes every time is the one where thua exposes him as the curse and he cries in the stairs. and i know there are people who aren't fan of scenes that are heavy on the dramatics, but that scene alone is so sad and first manages to express that masterfully bc it's terrifying yes, but it also feels cathartic in a way bc there's no weight of that lie on him anymore, so he cries ans sobs and leans on aye for support. idk, it just stuck with me for such a long time.

2. best acting from Khao

ray was khao's best performance in my opinion, and while i agree with everyone who mentions his therapist scene (which was a masterpiece honestly, no one and i mean no one would be able to deliver that one other than him the way he did), i'll go with mew's birthday party. i remember watching the bts of that scene and force was speechless and said that was his favorite scene they had shot until then, and man, there's a reason for that. he ate that up! the pure anger and control of the scene he had. the room was full of people but everyone's eyes were on him, and ray was terrifying in that one. that's what i mean when i say khaotung might be shorter than most of his co-stars but he knows when to use his presence to appear actually menacing. ray on mew's birthday party was scary.

3. best acting from FK as a pairing

you said i have to convince a non believer to stan fk, so i'll use the scene where they reconcile in only friends, ep. 10, if i'm not mistaken bc when you have a scene that was a page or two long, and direction shortened shortened shortened it until it was only an "i'm sorry" and they acted so well that it was convincing enough to make you, the audience, fully believe in the sincerity of the apology and the love and regret that laced their hug, that's a skill. they acted their asses off in that scene and the only line of dialogue was an apology.

4. best demonstration of FK's chemistry

okay so for this one, i'll say every time they showed casual intimacy. i feel like it's so easy for them to ignore casual intimacy in shows, but especially as kantbison, fk showed so much of their chemistry in the little touches. they are a very physical couple and they are comfortable being in each other's embrace and it's beautiful to see that being portrayed. holding hands, worshiping each other's bodies, sniffing their hair, kissing their knuckles, just feeling each other close, that's when you felt they are actually each other's person, they are actually so into each other that even crawling under each other's skin wouldn't be enough.

5. best kiss (aesthetics + characterisation + emotion + context + whatever other criteria you choose!)

most beautiful kiss i always think about the smoke kiss in only friends just because the aesthetic of it was amazing. the build up to it was amazing, and hot and heavy with tension and it was so delicious. i scream every time they kiss for the first time in shows, but the smoke kiss left me with my jaw in the ground for several minutes.

alternatively, in thk, the beach kiss for how meaningful it was since it was their first kiss with no lies between them, and the swing kiss that was perfect, they were so into that kiss and it felt so earned, too. fk really knows how to kiss.

also, akkayan's bridge kiss in our skyy 2, never forget that kiss. they were into it and delivering like no one else. absolutely gorgeous.

and let's remember all the pecks, too, because i have a soft spot for all of them. kantbison, yet again, carrying it in the pecks department (did you guys notice that kantbison kissed every ep? it was amazing to see).

and i think this is it? i finally managed to answer everything. ngl, i answered your ask first before a couple others that are sitting on my inbox bc i feel you needed the pick me up and i love talking about firstkhao. this was very fun. thank you for sending me this, and i hope you feel better.

#bibs ask #Anonymous #bibi shut up challenge #failed #but this was incredibly fun ngl i enjoy talking about them way too much #firstkhao #firstkhaotung #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat

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lilbitofsomthin · 1 day ago

Text

Dead Pixel Anya and Tiny Crispy Curly

⚠️CURLYA RANT INCOMING⚠️

TLDR: I only ship Curlya after the crash in a happy ending AU I made up :D

Okay so imma take this opportunity to rant about Curly and Anya’s relationship and the ✨only✨ time I will ever even entertain the thought of Curlya as a ship (cause like most of it is what I see pre crash and I’m like ✨no thank you✨)

First off forget and I mean FORGET anything pre crash. My mans is not ready for all that is Anya. He’s the definition of unworthy. Has not had his ✨arc✨. Has not truly drank his fair share of respect women juice 😔

When it was Curlys turn to care for Anya he failed spectacularly, like a main plot point of the game is how bad he fucked up by standing aside and letting J*mmy hurt her. So BAM he becomes cosmically and ironically put into a mirror position to Anya’s in their relationship.

Because now, in an instant, his very life is now in HER hands. She is literally the only one who can save him. Idk all of the medical knowledge to understand just how royally fucked up Curly was, it’s safe to say that keeping him alive at any rate would’ve been difficult to do. So that fact that she did it, with only the bare essentials of medical supplies, by herself, is nothing short of incredible.

She worked herself to the bone for months to keep him alive. After knowing that he failed her. After knowing her didn’t protect her. Knowing, for a FACT, that he wouldn’t do the same, and she still saved him anyway.

I mean, I’m sure at some point Curly must have realized that too.

And like THATS the part where I’m like “if I was Curly I would’ve fallen in love with her a little bit”. Not in the “oh you saved me I’m indebted to you” or “severely trauma bonded” way, I’m speaking in the characters being able to kinda analyze even in crazy stressful situations (like all the monologues and stuff being very well written and deeply metaphorical gives me the idea that their all capable of self reflection (except of course for J*mmy but that’s not the point).

So like I imagine that Curly can reflect on the fact that, after he failed her, over and over and over again. To the point where everything literally blew up in his face. And when the tables were turned and it was his life in Anya’s hands? She held no resentment, no malice. She saved him over and over and over again. And he had to have realized how incredible of a person she was at that point.

But only now that he finally realizes it, he can no longer say do or say anything about it. And listen that’s not even getting into J*mmy revealing his more obvious abusive tendencies to Curly. Because now not only does he have perspective on how strong of a person Anya is but how horrific the abuse was from J*mmy while being on the receiving end of it. That’s like a double serving of empathy and understanding. I’d like to imagine that, if we got to play as Curly, he’d go through that realization. 🤷

Okay now that THATS out of the way let’s get to FANON SHIT!!!! Time for the happy ending aus baby! Listen I love the game but I wanna see the characters I love get to resolve their traumas cause they deserve it!! I KNOW WHY CANON IS THE WAY IT IS I JUST WANNA PLAY PRETEND ON THE INTERNET!!

Just a quick psa, okay back to it.

I like to imagine that in those rescue aus they happen riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight after Daisuke gets out of the vent and finds Anya (btw I’m gonna say at this point her body was under too much stress and she lost the pregnancy). Apparently overdoses can be reversed so let’s say our rescue team is able to work hard and save Anya and patch up Daisuke.

The rescue team is also clocking J*mmy immediately cause this is all REALLY fucking sketchy

“why’d you send the intern into a vent shaft that you knew was dangerous”

“oh Captain said if I did I’d make my boss proud 😄”

🧍🧍🧍🧍 “dude your like 40 why’d you send the intern half your age that’s fucked up”

like that alone is enough for them to be suspicious but once Anya’s up all bets are off. I mean the shit show J*mmy “captained” the Tulpar to mostly speaks for itself but once Anya can tell someone what happened to her they can put enough together to put him in whatever space brig they have. That’s because we got a rescue team of space feminists who believe victims baby!!!

“And who funded this whole rescue hmmmmm??” I hear you say? No one. Nope. 🙂‍↔️ Capitalism doesn’t get to take the fun out of my character study so imma say their “Volunteer Rescue for International Cosmic Waters” or something idk 🤷. That’s not the point. The point is that this is a big shit show that got revealed by people that Pony Express couldn’t pay hush money to. And when I mean revealed I mean, this became a huge news story cause it had such a great hook. I mean that was the whole advertisement for the game!

“Crew lost in space forced to eat mouthwash while their former captain has been mutilated in the crash”

I mean I saw that on like 5 different thumbnails. Anyway people love a good story and the one Mouthwashing tells with a RELIABLE narrator at this point is tragic BUT salvageable.

Like Curly is gonna have like serious medical intervention and Daisuke will probably need stitches for the gash in his arm and Anya will need to be hospitalized from the stress of keeping Curly alive alone. Swansea might need like, idk a Tylenol or something idk? But like they CAN recover, the wrongs that Pony Express allowed can’t be made right but can at least be helped out with.

I imagine that this news story is like planet wide news. If I know humans, we love to help when we have a target and this story was popular as hell. So id like to imagine that they could the crew with whatever financial troubles they would be having. Curly could afford operations, Anya could afford medical school (which she doesn’t need because you better believed she got full ride scholarships for SAVING A MAN MUTILATED FROM THE CRASH FOR MONTHS WITH A GLORIFIED FIRST AID KIT), Daisuke could go to college (I know some people headcanon engineering or art so take your pick) Swansea could even retire if he wanted idk.

And we get the rare satisfaction of getting to see someone like J*mmy to be revealed for exactly what he is on a global scale. He’s tried, prosecuted and the world is on the crews side and they become micro celebrities (kinda like those news stories where everyone talks about it and pushed a bunch of support for like 2 weeks then moved to the next thing) cause fuck you capitalism human nature is enriched in empathy 😤

So here’s where I like to imagine where fix it fics start. The stage is set, therapy bills are paid and while everyone gets a nightmare or panic attack every now and again, things have officially been given the “happy ending au” stamp. So call “my version” of the story an angst with a happy ending rather than the original tragedy and cautionary tale 🤷

So like NOW we can START on the POSSIBILITY of curlya.

That’s right the idea of these characters getting together is a tick that has crawled in my brain and I am cursed.

Because now Curly has his chance to drink respect women juice. And you better believe my man’s gonna chug that shit. And honestly I can see Anya respecting Curly for trying to grow. Like everything is 1000% platonic (I mean maybe a little one sided crush on Curlys side and maaaybe something develops later on) and the main 4 crew are all kinda hanging out for a few reasons (interviews and meet and greets or whatever people who survive major news stories do) and also like they DID go through a shit storm together so their a little trauma bonded but in a found family way.

Anyways THIS is where I imagine all Curlya stuff to take place. This fun low stakes “we made it through the storm and now we can rest on the shore” kind of happy ending zone.

And like maybe they can get up to shenanigans and work through their trauma and love and support each other. That’s like where my fan content takes place 🧍

⚠️SO IF I EVER POST ANYTHING AND TAG IT AS “CURLYA” THIS IS THE CONTEXT IM PUTTING IT IN!!!!! I AM NOT TALKING ABOUT ANYTHING THAT WAS OFFICIALLY RELEASED IN CANON OR IN THE CONTEXT OF THE GAME!!!! I SHIP CURLYA AS A PURELY FANON CONCEPT⚠️

Like idk if this is media literacy or brain rot at this point but that’s my rant thanks for reading :D

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menlove · 2 days ago

Note

hiii! i want to say one thing and then ask another. first, i just absolutely love your blog and your theories, i think they are very enlightening about the beatles and their dynamics (specially about paul, john as individuals and The Mclennon story™️). and second, i was curious, stalking your blog when i saw "john fighting more internalized homophobia than paul", and i will be so happy if you can explain for the majority of the people! :-) obviously if you can and you want lol.

aaaah yeah to me it just reads that way. ik paul has made Comments about not being gay (though most of these minus like one are from the 80s/90s and the most Recent one was bc the interviewer was being disrespectful as fuck honestly) but like as far as their personal lives go aside from like. paul with his pr mask on. I think john had a lottttt more going on there than him. like there's this sort of idea that if paul Is queer, then he's more repressed and more homophobic than john and idk about all that but I do certainly think john just was extremely repressed and extremely angry about it.

notttt pulling receipts on this btw bc I'm at work and it's not that serious just me rambling but if anyone wants to look this stuff up the sources are around I just can't be fucked rn but.

like paul has never gotten violent about it. but there's Many stories about john getting violent over being called gay/assumed to be gay, and not just when he was younger. like ofc there's the infamous bob wooler incident, but there's also the story about him punching a guy in the crowd around the same time for saying the same thing while he was on stage. and there's the story about him kissing a guy & headbutting him in the 70s. he also made a Ton of homophobic remarks on and off through the 70s (although tbf they Were after the mess of primal scream therapy so he was obviously dealing with whatever that brought up) like talking about "fags" derogatorily or like the whole calling paul gay for wanting to meet w him one on one without linda and yoko.

and I think obviously there's like many complexities in that man bc the 70s is Also full of shit like rumors about him fucking a prostitute w david bowie & then fucking david bowie, or the "john lennon's guide to bisexual gardening", or him trying to spread rumors that he Was gay, or that interview where he says he's never fucked a man but he's planning on it when he's 40 etc..... but I think he very much Did oscillate between leaning into it for shock value and then getting angry/scared when he was taken seriously about it

paul just to me seems a lot more settled about it. a lot of his comments are that john wasn't gay (which is interesting to Say The Least) and when he would get defensive about his own sexuality it's like. it's a lot more chill lmao and also just kind of tongue in cheek to me (again the female hordes). even if it's Not tongue in cheek, it's still just way more relaxed. like john he also had no issue hanging around queer people and being in queer spaces, but it doesn't seem like he ever got defensive about it in the same way and in fact seemed to sort of thrive off of being in those spaces and getting that kind of attention.

so like ultimately just as like a thought experiment if anything Did happen between the two of them, I think paul would have been a bit more calm about it than john. I can see him treating it as more of a "yeah alright this is a thing I like and thing I do it doesn't mean anything I'm not Gay I still Like women but this is fun and exciting and I love the attention" rather than john who I feel would just dig himself into a well of self-loathing so deep he can't see the sun anymore, while still compartamentalizing it to be able to participate in those acts without thinking of himself as Queer.

#if u saw me say 80s and not 70s no u didn't I misclicked or just got back from the universe where he lived

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minju4won · 2 days ago

Text

little women

WORD ACCOUNT 6968 words

PAIRING childhood friends

WARNING none i think, little women au

SYPNOSIS after many years without hearing from your old friend, he had arrived back in the city, begging for your friendship. What were you going to do after he was the son of your mother’s enemy?

author note: it’s probably my worst work but I still hope you like it haha I don’t like it at all :( i wasn’t going to separate it into two parts but I felt that it never ended btw it’s not corrected sorry for the mistakes

part 1

you rolled your eyes when you heard the murmurs of your classmates for the thousandth time in the day. you were at school, trying to listen to your teacher, but two classmates kept talking.

to talk about the famous newly arrived brother of the Sim family. all the women were talking about him, and you didn’t blame them, finally a new face appeared in the village.

although he wasn’t so new.

jake, the third brother of the Sim family, had lived in the village until he was eight years old, for some family reason, he, along with his father and his older brother, jay, had moved abroad.

at first it was rumored of a separation from the family, and that the father had decided to take his two favorite children and leave the others with their mother. but that was muffled when he saw how the family in all the festivities went to foreignro.

your family and the Sim family had been very close, since your mothers were friends since childhood, both loved each other so much that they were even neighbors. although that changed when Mrs. Sim had begun to be wealthy, since his mother began to relate to the aristocracy, moving further away from your mother.

your mother felt so bad that she decided to cut friendship with her, not before having a big discussion about it, a discussion that reached the ears of the people.

as their close mothers were, their children were too. both you and your sisters grew up with the Sim brothers, they were like brothers of another mother.

they played in each other’s houses, they played in the yard, did mischief together. everything. and you were Jake’s best friend, you were always together and he was your mischief partner.

until he disappeared.

one day you and your sisters went to the Sim’s house to play with his children, but that day you didn’t see Jake. you had found out that he had left with his father and his older brother, at first you thought it was for a few days, then for a few weeks and months. until you realized that he wasn’t going back.

until today.

you turned around angrily, the friends looked at you with strangeness when they saw your face.

“i’m trying to listen” you said through your teeth, hoping that they would shut up.

but one of them, anabella, shrugged her shoulders, taking away her importance.

“jake is so handsome, y/n. we saw him enter his school this morning and we almost fainted”

“besides, y/n, we thought you were going to be excited. If I remember correctly, you were flesh and nail.” she said laughing.

you tried not to roll your eyes when you heard her, they were making fun of you. you were sure that they knew about the enmity of their families, and as thanks to the problem of their mothers, you had stopped talking to the Sim brothers, to the point of not even looking at them on the street.

“you have to overcome some things, anabella” you said turning around to pay attention to the teacher.

despite your little warning, they didn’t shut up, for the same reason, you had to listen until the end of the class how they praised Jake Sim.

after hours, the teacher had ended the class and you quickly got him up from your seat. the arrival of your former friend had made your name sound more than normal, despite everything, everyone has known each other since they were little, and it was difficult to ignore your beautiful friendship that you had with him.

you left the institution and saw your two younger sisters in the distance, you approached them and gave her a little scare from behind, you laughed when you heard their screams and their complaints.

in total you had four sisters, the oldest, Jihyo, who is nineteen years old and is only at home to help your mother. a younger one, sixteen, fifteen years old and the youngest of all, yoonchae, who have fifteen.

you were the second oldest and you couldn’t feel more lost, that is, you were going to turn eighteen in a few months, and you didn’t know what to do. as a woman, you couldn’t go to college, you could only go to school and teach the basics. so you couldn’t have a job, so the only way out was to be a teacher.

well, there was also getting married. If you were honest, you had never imagined yourself married. but it wasn’t because you didn’t want to, but because you had the feeling.

you wanted to get married, yes, but no one of you were interested, no matter how much it hurts you. see how all your friends had suitors, your older sister and even your younger sisters! they all had suitors who gave them expensive gifts, but you... you had never had.

at first it hurt, but you had already gotten used to it. some people were born to be alone all their lives, and there’s nothing wrong with it.

“yoonchae has something to tell you”

you walked away from your thoughts and looked at your little sister, who looked at her surroundings nervously.

“what yoonchae?”

“you’re a snat! you don’t keep anything!”

“because you are a fool!”

yoonchae threw herself towards her sister to start fighting with her, you looked around with shame, you could feel the people’s gaze on you.

you got in the middle to separate them while you shouted to separate, when doing your job you pushed them to the ground.

“do you know what i found out about today?” lexie said, challenging her younger sister. “today i went through yoonchae’s class, and i could see her talking to Mrs. Candela”

“shut up!”

“yoonchae is expelled for a week”

you looked at yoonchae with your mouth open. “expelled?”

“she stuck some pencils in some colleagues.”

yoonchae was red with shame, she got up with difficulty and looked at the floor.

“they were making fun of our family. they said we were jealous of the Sim family”

you rolled your eyes when you heard it, those rumors had existed for years, the problem is that yoonchae had never heard them.

you lifted Lexie and held your sisters’ hand. “you shouldn’t listen to others, after all we are in the same economic position”

“are we not going to do anything? they were making fun of our father!”

“instead of worrying about those rumors, they should worry about what you’re going to tell mom”

you ignored the moans and laughter of your sisters, you looked around you, specifically to your right, where the men’s school was. even though you didn’t want to have any contact with them, you wanted to know how Jake was, you didn’t even remember his face properly.

but you didn’t see him. he was your age, right? he should be at school.

you took the road to go home and stopped looking in that direction.

after several minutes, you opened the door of your house and you could see your sister set the table and you heard your mother’s screams.

“what happened?”

jihyo rolled his eyes. “mom...”

you saw your mother as she approached you and threw a paper on the table, you took it and read it.

“is she making fun of us?”

THE SIM FAMILY DANCE

you are exclusively invited for this weekend’s dance after the return of the father of the family with his two children.

you frowned when you read it. “what does this mean?”

“it means that Mrs. Sim is doing charity with the poor”

jihyo rolled her eyes for the millionth time. “it means that the Sim family is celebrating the return of their family with a dance”

you heard your little sister’s scream. “really?” she said snatching the letter from your hands. “can we go? please mommy, please”

your mother brought the soup cauldron and put it on the table.

“we won’t go to any dance”

you sat at the table and began to serve yourself, your sisters imitated you.

“why don’t we go to the dance, mother? is this the first time they invite us”

“what do you want to go to the dance of a family that turned its back on us? that rumors were invented about our family and is not able to look us in the face?” you said drinking a drink of soup.

your sister sighed when she heard you. you knew you were right.

you would never be in the house of a family that made your mother suffer, who because of them were slandered by false rumors.

“but, mom, you always said that we had no problem with Mrs. Sim. in addition, all the neighbors were also invited”

this time it was your turn to roll your eyes. “why do you want to go to this dance so much, Jihyo? don’t you understand that Mrs. Sim was the one who caused a lot of pain to our mother? was she the one who turned her back and hurt her? she didn’t even help mom financially when she had money.”

“it wasn’t her obligation.”

“but mom would have done it”

“silence” your mother told them to shut up. “i have always told you that you have no problem with her, and i have no problem with their children. i don’t want to hear any complaints from her from you.”

this time it was Yoonchae’s turn to get up from the table. “well, i do have a problem with them, because of her they laugh at us at school”

“that’s why we have to go, mom!” Jihyo shouted, grabbing her hand. “since we have no problem with her, we can go to that dance. we will show that we no longer have any problem with them. if we do we can stop the rumors, or at least half”

you sighed when you heard your sister, what was it that she didn’t understand? they couldn’t relate to them!

“okay, but only you and your sister will go”

“what?”

“i’ll give you a couple of coins so you can go buy some fabric”

you got up from the table, furious. “we can’t go to that dance, mom! it will be a shame for our family, how can we introduce ourselves after she created all those rumors?”

“i can go for you,” lexie said.

“you won’t go for your sister, you’re barely fifteen years old. you two will go and introduce yourself, you’ll be there for a short time and you’ll come. then we won’t see them again.”

“but mama-“

you shut up when you heard your father’s screams upstairs, your mother sighed tiredly when she heard him and got up from the table.

“end of the conversation.”

⋆.*ೃ✧

it was Saturday. the day of the dance, if you were honest, you didn’t feel like going at all. if it were up to you, you would be at home reading books.

you grabbed the umbrella tightly when you heard your sister’s tone of voice, she was excited. In part you understood her, it was your first dance, but that your first dance is at the Sim’s house was not very pleasant.

“look at the blue!” you fixed your eyes and you look a beautiful blue dress, you made a grimace when you saw it. It was beautiful.

a beautiful dress that you could never afford.

“it’s beautiful”

“someday i’ll dress in those dresses”

“may God hear you, sister”

“do you think we can go in and take a look?”

you looked at your dresses, you weren’t bad but you didn’t look like high society. besides, you had the tip of the dress full of mud.

“i don’t think so, we have the dresses made by mom besides we are full of mud.”

your sister sighed. “our dress is better than all their window”

you let out a small laugh when you heard her. you both knew that your dress was horrible, but it was made by your mother, so mentally it was beautiful for you, even though it wasn’t.

you didn’t have enough money to buy well-made dresses. in fact, it was the first time your mother gave them money to buy fabric. she was almost always reused.

“excuse me” said a male voice behind yours. both turned around and could see two unknown faces.

“come in quickly, it’s raining” said a familiar voice, but a long time without listening. he had the same voice. you looked behind the boys and saw Sunghoon.

you looked away from him and put it back on the dress, you didn’t even want to look at him.

you felt how your sister tensed up next to you and grabbed your arm tighter. she was nervous.

“ladies march” you looked away and put it on sunghoon.

but he was looking at you, not sunghoon. but jake. you knew it was him, despite having changed, he had the same eyes.

it was very easy to recognize him. despite having forgotten almost all of his face, you couldn’t forget his eyes.

you looked away from him and put it on his younger brother.

“sunghoon” you greeted him and turned around with the intention of getting away from them.

but fate didn’t want them to leave quickly.

“you are jihyo and y/n, right?”

you and your sister turned to look at them and you saw that the one who had spoken had been the oldest, jay.

your sister nodded.

“do you remember us?”

you tried not to roll your eyes. you clearly remembered them, how can you forget?

“i think it’s better if we go in,” sunghoon said to be ignored.

“we remember you” your sister whispered.

“we also remember you. we used to play together as children.” jake said, looking at you.

his accent was not the same as that of his older brother, who had the typical american accent. but his accent was different, you couldn’t identify it.

you looked away from him and posed it on sunghoon.

“haven’t you told your brothers that our families don’t talk to each other anymore?” you noticed the strange look that both brothers were giving you. “you didn’t tell them that because of your family we received hundreds of teasing?” you let out an ironic laugh when you noticed Sunghoon’s look of discomfort. you looked at jay and jake, who didn’t know what was happening. “those times are in the past. they no longer exist and will never exist. it would be better if you guys forgot it.”

you turned around and pulled your sister, when they were at a distance considered your sister whispered.

“you went too far with them.”

“it’s what they deserve”

hours later, you were looking at yourself in the mirror listening to the complaints of your younger sisters.

you had a pink dress, it was probably the most beautiful dress you had ever had. your mother had done a great job in making that dress look expensive with cheap fabric. instead your sister had a blue dress, the same model as yours.

“do i look pretty, father?” you said approaching him and giving him a kiss.

your father smiled and nodded. “my two princesses”

“i still think it’s bad,” yoonchae said, sitting on her bed.

“i don’t talk to expelled girls,” your mother sneered.

“mother!”

“what head does it fit in, yoonchae? in which head does it fit stick pencils in your colleagues?”

“you don’t understand it!”

“i understand, yoonchae, that’s why they’re going to go to the dance to calm the rumors. and we won’t see them anymore”

your mother just combed your sister’s hair and they all went downstairs to say goodbye. you said goodbye to your sisters and mother and the arrival time was at 22:00. that is, in two and a half hours, according to your mother, you didn’t need more hours from there.

the floor was dry, which surprised you, since it had rained cats and dogs that morning.

you saw in the distance how wealthy people arrived in their carriages, on the other hand, you were arriving walking. you were not ashamed, but you would have preferred to go in a carriage.

the Sim’s house was incredibly big. you could never see it up close, since you didn’t approach often. their land was large and it screamed money everywhere.

sometimes you wondered, how come they suddenly had so much money?

yo went up the stairs and saw how some butlers bowed to you. you frowned and let out a laugh with your sister.

it was the first time, and probably the last.

when you got to the living room, everything was ridiculously beautiful. The flowers, the tables, everything. they had worked hard on the decoration, or maybe because it was your first time.

“it’s so beautiful, y/n.”

“yeah, i know”

you felt a squeeze in your arm and looked ahead. Mrs. Sim was approaching you. she was as beautiful as when she was young, it had been so long that you had not seen her that you had forgotten how beautiful she was.

“don’t be rude”

you smiled when you had Mrs. Sim in front of you. “it’s good to see you at the party” she touched your shoulder and squeezed it gently. “you guys are beautiful”

“thank you, Mrs. Sim,” your sister said and you nodded.

“i thought your mother was going to accompany you” was she making fun of her in your face?

“my father didn’t feel well”

“besides, she didn’t want to either,” you murmured. The lady frowned when she heard you, she wanted to tell you something, but she stopped and looked at your sister.

“i found out about your father, i didn’t have the opportunity to give him my condolences. my husband was a very good friend of yours, he wanted to go to your house but we decided not to, it was the best.”

“my father is not so bad, Mrs. Sim,” your sister said defensively. “he’s missing legs but he’s happier than ever. we don’t need any condolences when he’s still alive”

you smiled when you heard your sister and squeezed her arm, so that it was time to go away. “with your permission”

you moved her away from the lady and they started walking towards the other end of the living room.

“how dare she talk about our parents after everything she did? ‘condolences’ we don’t need any of your condolences”

you stroked her arm to reassure her and stood in front of her. “we don’t need to get angry now, do we?” jihyo nodded while sighing. “let’s go to the important thing: go look for wealthy suitors”

“yes, you are right” jihyo arranged her dress and you started combing her hair. “do i look like a high society girl?”

“no, but you look pretty, that’s enough”

“see you at the entrance at 9:40. neither later nor earlier, y/n.”

“yes”

“be careful” she said moving away from you.

you saw how your sister approached a group of men and you turned around to get closer to the table, you tried some meals and you couldn’t help but make some grimaces when you tried it. you had never eaten those delicacies, is that how the rich ate?

after trying some sweets and meats, you saw your classmates in the distance, sighed and approached them. you could hear the murmurs.

“anabella, cristal and betty” you greeted your colleagues.

“y/n” they said in unison.

“we didn’t expect your presence at the party”

don’t get nervous, don’t get nervous.

“i have no problem with the Sim family,” you said crossing your arms.

you heard a little laugh from betty.

“seriously?”

“the problems that adults have do not concern us”

the three friends approached you and grabbed your arm amicably.

“but we thought you didn’t get along” you frowned when you noticed his grip. what was he doing? “look! look who’s there!” you looked where he was pointing and you could see the Sim brothers.

you saw heeseung, jungwon, riki and jake.

suddenly, your breathing had accelerated, your pulse too. you just wanted to run out of there, but your legs didn’t respond, they walked alone.

“guys” anabella said when she arrived next to them.

but no look was directed towards them, everyone looked at you. surely wondering what the fuck you were doing in front of them, what you were doing after having treated them badly, of having ignored them.

you looked down and closed your eyes with shame.

“ladys” you heard Jungwon’s voice.

“your party is wonderful”

“our mother made it phenomenal”

“it’s one of the best parties i’ve ever been to, what do you say, y/n? ” you looked up confused. what? “oh sorry, you haven’t been to any party in your life. i forgot that you were poor”

so that’s why she brought you? to make fun of you in front of your old friends, to make fun that they could move on and you couldn’t.

they were vipers, unfortunate, unhappy people who could not leave others alone. who only had fun at the expense of the suffering of others.

you saw her mischievous smile and heard the laughter of her friends’ vipers. You couldn’t even look at the brothers, you didn’t want to find out if they had laughed at the joke, you didn’t want to know. you couldn’t stand the shame.

“are you okey, y/n?” you heard his voice. jake’s voice.

you took your eyes off anabella and put that on jake, who looked at you with concern and curiosity. you couldn’t answer him, since your best friend —notice the sarcasm—decided to answer for you.

“you shouldn’t worry about someone poor and whose father is missing legs. it’s embarrassing, jake”

you closed your eyes when you heard the mention of your father. could you stand that they made fun of you, of your economic situation, but of your father? a person who fought for the good of all in the war? everything to make them laugh at him?

you looked at the blonde and took her hair, pulling her back. you heard a scream from her and how her friends tried to get away from her.

“if i hear my father come out of your mouth again, i swear i will make your life impossible”

you pushed her and she fell on top of Betty, you heard her tears and insults. you looked around and could notice some looks on you. i knew this was going to reach your mother’s ears, and you also knew that you were not going to calm the rumors. you felt your cheeks heat up when you noticed the look of strangeness and disgust that some people had. all those looks were towards you.

you looked at anabella for the last time and started walking fast to the exit. you didn’t want them to see you crying, that they saw you vulnerable. you had enough with the teasing.

when you got to the exit, you felt the fresh air reach your nose, and at that moment, you were able to release the tears you had accumulated. you were fed up with everything, his teasing, your economic situation, the bad luck that your family has. how were they going to overcome all this?

you wiped your tears, you didn’t have time to cry, you didn’t have time to be vulnerable. at least, not at that moment.

“are you okey?”

that accent. that accent that was unrecognizable to you, but so well known at the same time.

you turned around and you could see jake. “did you come to make fun of me?”

you saw how he frowned. “what are you talking about?”

“i know what people like you are like: they will come to make fun of my father, or my family, or maybe that i am too rude to be a lady. but you will come to make fun of me.” you noticed that some tears were running down your cheek, you quickly removed them. “i am fed up with you and your family, your family and all the rich people who laugh at the poor. if you came to me to do it, leave. i don’t want to talk to anyone of your kind”

jake approached you carefully, afraid that you would react more angry than you were, or that you would hit him.

“i’m sorry for not defending you in there. i should have done it, we are friends and i am a decent person who must respect everyone”

“we are not friends, jake.”

“y/n, i know you are angry but-“

“we stopped being friends from the day you left. from the day you didn’t have the decency to say goodbye to me”

“y/n”

“besides, i don’t need any rich man to defend me. i’ve always defended myself despite being poor, but thank you for thinking like a normal person.”

you walked away from him and began to look around, to see if you could see your sister. you went down the big stairs, ignoring Jake’s calls behind your back.

until you saw her.

you saw her behind a tree. talking to someone.

talking to Jay.

you approached her angrily. what was she doing talking to him? what was he doing talking to the son whose mother was a snake? what was he doing talking secretly?

you didn’t even look at your sister. you pushed Jay hard, which made him fall to the ground.

“y/n!”

“in what head is it possible to be alone with a young lady?” you shouted at him. you felt jake’s hands on your waist, moving away from jay.

“i’m sorry, y/n-“

“leave us alone, y/n” your sister shouted.

“do you want me to leave you alone with a man whose brothers laughed at our father?” your sister frowned when she heard you and looked at jay. “i tried to calm the rumors, sister. but it didn’t work, i think i’ve made everything worse.”

your sister grabbed your arm and separated you from jake, you grabbed your waist when you noticed yourself empty.

“i’m very sorry about this, but i won’t tolerate teasing my family from you.”

your sister hugged you and started walking towards your houses.

⋆.*ೃ✧

the sea was calm, and the sky was gray. today was not a good day to be on the beach, nor was it a good day to leave the house, since the weather was bad and it was Sunday.

since it was a bad day to go out, for your father it was perfect to be on the beach.

since your father had lost his legs, about five months ago, he had rarely left the house. according to him, he didn’t feel like it and it was a nuisance to be after him, but deep down you knew it wasn’t because of that.

leaving the house and seeing that he could not do the activities he did, that he could not walk, that the neighbors would stare at them, embarrassed him. and made him sad.

he always tried to look happy when he was around his daughters, but his sobs at night didn’t let you sleep. hearing how your mother comforted him broke your heart.

now you were in the sand next to lexie, each next to your father, while he was sitting in a chair.

a good friend of your father had offered to take your father to the beach, and you couldn’t be happier. it was his third outing overall.

“we used to play here” your sister whispered.

when you were little, you, along with your sisters and the Sim brothers and their father, used to play on the beach. with kites and with the balls. once the enmity of your mothers began, they stopped playing with their children. but the habit was not gone.

every Sunday you played with your sisters and your father. although it was more boring because your friends weren’t there, you had a good time for your father.

they stopped playing when you turned fourteen. exactly almost four years ago.

today you were on the beach again with your father, the difference is that he could no longer run after you.

“yeah” you said looking sideways at your father, he had a serious face while looking at the sea.

you wondered what was going through his head, how he thought when he couldn’t walk, that he could no longer be in the war, that he could only be in bed.

if you were in his situation, you wouldn’t know what to do. your legs were everything, being able to run while you felt the wind in your face was your favorite pastime, you couldn’t survive without that.

“i want to apologize. sorry for being the head of the family and not being able to bring bread to the table. sorry for not being able to play with you, sorry for losing my legs” you heard your father’s sobs and closed your eyes tightly, you didn’t want to cry in front of him. you wanted to give him your support without the need to cry.

“dad, don’t say that. it’s not your fault,” your sister said, getting up to hug him.

damn the war, damn the man who took away your father’s mobility. damn them all.

you took your father’s hand and kissed it. “i’ll work, dad. i’ll accompany mom and jihyo to the doctor to have a higher salary. i’ll do everything I can to take care of our family” you listened to your sister’s sobs. “you’ve done so much for us, you’ve taken care of us for all these years. let us take care of you now.”

your dad moved his hand away from you and separated from your sister with repulsion. you frowned when you saw how he touched his face nervously.

“dad?”

“i want to go home”

“but it’s not the time yet”

“i can’t stand being here, take me home”

you got up and shook your dress, approached your sister and stroked her cheek, removing her tears.

“don’t move from here, i’ll go find someone”

you turned around and started running off the beach. you needed to find someone strong, capable of taking your father to your house.

when leaving the beach, you didn’t see anyone. and rightly so, it was Sunday, that day was to be with their families at home. who was going to be at the beach on a Sunday?

you didn’t know how long you had walked, but you had separated considerably from the beach. now you were ten minutes away, or even more. you leaned against a tree and began to breathe slowly, trying to control your breathing. you weren’t going to find anyone, and your father was going to give him a nervous breakdown.

you looked around and saw the town’s cafeteria. you should go in and look for a man who is willing to carry another, but who were you going to find who is willing to do that?

until you saw him.

jake.

he was the only person you knew was going to accept, that he was going to be willing to do that.

but how were you going to ask him for help after treating him badly last night?

it was you or your father.

you ran to him and yelled at him, he turned around and frowned when he saw you.

“y/n”

“jake” you said standing in front of him. “i’m sorry about last night, i know you didn’t have bad intentions but i was angry and i vented with you”

jake smiled sideways and crossed his arms when he heard you. “i understand, don’t worry”

you put your bangs behind the ear and bit your inner lip, how were you going to say that to him?

“i’m sorry, jake, but i need your help” you said getting closer to him. “my father is at the beach and we don’t have anyone who can take him home, i haven’t seen anyone who can do me the favor until I saw you.” you scratched awkwardly. “i understand that you don’t want to because i treated you badly or you just can’t-“

“i’ll do it, take me to him”

“what?”

“come on, y/n”

you smiled when you heard it and shrugged your shoulders, it was easier than you thought. You started walking quickly to the beach, you were grateful that Sim didn’t put conversation on the way, although maybe you would have preferred it. everything was very uncomfortable.

when you arrived at the beach, you saw your father in the distance, with your sister stroking his back, trying to reassure him.

you called your father and started running towards him, you bent down to be at his height and took his hand.

“i brought someone, father. we’ll go home.”

your father looked behind you and could see your companion and looked at you with discomfort. You knew perfectly well that your father did not like to be seen in his state. but you could not do anything.

“mr. march”

“it’s good to see you, jake” your little sister said. you ignored how they greeted each other, you could only look at your father’s look of distrust.

“jake” you called him. “promise us that you won’t say anything about this meeting, that you won’t create rumors about our father”

“what? i would never do that, i promise mr. march. i’m not that kind of person”

you smiled at your father to reassure him. “do you see dad? jake is not going to say anything, i trust him, do you trust him?”

your father doubted and nodded, surrendered. “take me home”

“yes, sir”

your old friend approached your father and put him on his back with ease and started walking to your house.

all the way you didn’t say a word, you only listened to the friendly conversation that Lexie and Jake had and you only answered with short answer ns to the questions they asked you.

being with Jake again. talk to him amicably again, you would never have imagined it.

when you were younger you had wondered many times what had happened to him, seeing his mother and his brothers but not him, it was weird. you had many questions in your head, but they were never going to get out of there, you didn’t have the face to ask him.

you quickened your pace when you saw your house in the distance and opened the door.

“mom”

“tell me darling, where is your father?”

“he is coming” you said crossing your arms to look at the door. “with jake”

your mother turned around in surprise. “with jake?”

you couldn’t answer him since the named one entered with your father and sister.

“put him in the armchair, jake,” your mother said, approaching them. jake ordered what your mother said and let out a small moan. “how did they spend it?

“fine” your sister whispered.

your mother ignored her daughter’s tone and looked at Jake. “i haven’t seen you for a long time, how are you Jake?

jake raised his hand to shake it and your mother did it with confusion. “i’m fine, Mrs. March. i hope you and your family are too.”

“thank you for bringing my husband, you didn’t have to”

“don’t say thank you”

you frowned when you saw your mother’s face. you knew that she had been pleased by jake’s attitude, you knew that she had liked him, and that she would torment you with questions about him.

“do you want to stay to eat?”

what.

what do she mean to stay to eat? your family didn’t even have for theirselves, what did she do by inviting a rich man to eat?

you looked at Jake and he looked at you. he couldn’t stay to eat.

you shook your head, indicating that he should deny her invitation. but you saw how he smiled and looked away from you to look at your mother.

“if it’s not too much trouble”

you closed your eyes in pain, how cheeky was he. stay to eat? that he was going to expect a banquet like the ones at his house?

you couldn’t believe it.

“daughter, set the table”

“mom-“ you protested.

“y/n”

you sighed and turned around to start setting the table, without help from your sisters.

why had she sent you and not lexie? or to yoonchae? who was locked in her room.

that situation was unfair, everything was unfair in your life.

jake, stay to eat? but what was happening to your mother? why was a rich man going to eat in poor people’s houses? you threw the last plate on the table and sat down angrily, running your hands over your face.

you waited patiently for them to sit down and now you were next to your sister and facing your old friend while listening to the conversation your family had with the intruder.

it was a shame to eat your favorite food with Jake on the table.

“how is your family?” your mother asked.

“both my parents and my brothers are fine,” Jake said, staring at the plate. you frowned when you saw him. “but my grandmother...”

“is she getting worse?”

it was not new news that the sim’s grandmother was sick, in fact, it was very old. it had been two and a half years since the lady had fallen into bed, unable to get up. despite not being able to walk or think properly, she could speak and think sometimes clearly.

but of course, despite being old news for you, it could be new for him.

“i don’t know, she doesn’t even talk to me. i think she doesn’t remember me.”

your mother put her hand on Jake’s shoulder to comfort him, while she let out a few words of encouragement.

you looked away and began to finish your food. In your head there was only one question: where had jake been all those years? how come his family was here and he was so far away?

how could his mother be separated from her children for so long?

after several minutes, you found yourself listening to the conversation that your mother and he had, while your little sisters picked up the table.

if you were sincere, you didn’t even know what they were talking about, they had talked about so many topics, that it made you disconnect. you just wanted to lie down and talk to your sisters.

you didn’t know how much time had passed, but your mother had ordered you to say goodbye to Jake. now you were at the door of your house in front of him.

his mood had declined after talking about his grandmother, you understood.

“are you okay?” you whispered uncomfortably. he looked at you confused while sighing and sitting on a rock on the floor.

“i don’t know”

you curled your arms and looked around, uncomfortable.

“i’m so sorry about your grandmother, jake”

“yeah, me too”

you saw how he touched his face and looked away nervously. should you say goodbye to him now? should you enter the house? or approach him and comfort him?

“look, i’m sorry about the other day” you rolled your eyes when you heard it. was he going to continue with that topic? “seriously. I didn’t do things right by not defending you that day, you were alone, after all we were friends”

“i’m not angry anymore, it’s not the first time they do it, i think i overreacted a little”

“no you didn’t, they deserved that”

you smiled under your breath when you heard it and saw how he got up and approached you.

“please y/n, let’s be friends again”

you tried not to roll your eyes and took the doorknob tightly, ready to run away.

something that didn’t go unnoticed by Jake.

“things have change”

“i know but-“

“jake, i don’t like your family”

“you won’t be friends with my family, only with me, like the old days”

“don’t pretend to be friends like the old days after disappearing half of my life. you can’t disappear and then come as if everything were still the same as before”

jake raised his hands, trying to touch her shoulder to reassure you, but he didn’t.

“i never wanted to leave,” he murmured. “i was supposed to say goodbye to you, but they lied to me. they lied to us. and we left earlier so as not to feel the loss so much.”

you sighed when you heard him. you had to understand how he understood you, he was also a child.

“jake-“

“please, y/n. let me at least try, let me try to have your trust again.”

“i don’t like your family”

“i know, but i like yours”

you let go of the knob and cleaned the non-existent dirt from your dress.

you should have thought of an answer, but what to tell him? you couldn’t be his friend, you felt that you were betraying your family. that you were betraying your mother for being friends with her enemy’s son. you would be betraying your values.

but you had missed him so much.

“you’re not going to get it”

you saw jake’s smile of superiority, which made you want to re-enter your house.

“yes i will”

“no you won’t”

“how much do you bet?”

“if i win, you’ll give me a four-leaf clover”

You heard Jake’s laugh as he raised his hand for you to shake.

“if i win, you’ll give me a scarf identical to the one i used as a child”

you let out an ironic laugh. you will never give it to him, since you don’t know how to sew.

you smiled and shook his hand.

“deal made”

#enhypen #enhypen headcanons #enhypen heeseung #enhypen imagines #enhypen jake #enhypen jay #enhypen reactions #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x reader

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