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cloudsrust · 2 years

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Patchwork Care (Part 9)

When he had gotten into the elevator, Neon J saw Nova at the end of the hall. Of course, he pretended he hadn't seen his friend; the veteran was more than aware of his surprisingly skittish nature.

Yes, recently his vision had received much-needed upgrades, the reason why he could see Nova so easily. The delayed upgrades weren't for lack of willingness, but ever since the Border Wars, Jun had been sensitive to many sensory inputs, sight being one of them. Initially, he had relied on his radar, but now he felt comfortable with thermal vision. That was the main reason why he chose to keep his distance at first; the sudden drop in temperature on Nova's face indicated to him that he had been caught off-guard.

Even so, Jun missed Aster. They couldn't keep avoiding each other.

His steeled resolve led him there, leaning against a doorframe as his troops walked out the room hurriedly. Tracking them down was child's play, and doing reconnaissance was even more simple (it wasn't eavesdropping, he would die on that hill if questioned). After pondering for weeks, Jun knew what he wanted to say. As for how he was going to deliver such a message to someone ready to jump ship at a drop of a hat, he had yet to determine that.

As soon as the door shut behind the veteran, Aster babbled nervously, endlessly. Akin to a drowning man, flailing in desperation. Words upon words, Neon J could only watch as he approached. Once seated, the silence was deafening.

Although he could not see colors in a conventional way, the shifting of temperatures was telling; a constant fluctuation of burning white mortification, red shame, and violet guilt. Of course, there was no certain way to say that was an accurate assessment, but Neon J could make a certain judgment given he knew the DJ well.

"Jun-"

"I don't want an apology." That was a bit of a strong start, so the veteran soften his tone, "There's nothing to apologize for-"

"I avoided you for two weeks-"

"Okay, I do want an apology for that, but that can wait. We both know what this is actually about."

"I have no idea what this is about."

"Don't lie, the left side of your face burns up when you do. Don't look surprised either, I got thermal vision not long ago," then again, even if his vision was back to radar-like, there were plenty of ways for Jun to tell when Aster lied. Since they were mostly inconsequential lies, Jun never called him out on them. Plus, it was amusing how his friend always swelled with pride whenever he thought he got away with something.

Tatiana had called him an enabler in the past. It was only now that he was realizing that had not been a joke.

Upon receiving only silence, Neon knew that his friend was probably in the process of overthinking. Feeling bold, the veteran held the astrophysicist's hand, which made the latter jump.

"Listen, Nova-"

"Just rip the band-aid off. I know, I ruined everything-"

"Aster-"

"I am an amazing, brilliant person, butwhatdoesitmatterifI'materriblefriend-"

"Aster!"

"Don't yell at me! I startle easily and your years as a captain are showing-"

"Sorry, but in my defense, you were spiraling." Rubbing the back of his neck, Neon stayed silent for a while to see how he could relay the message. At that moment, he realized that military tactics were much easier to perform than having a conversation. With the former, getting hurt was an expected outcome. With the latter though, hurting or getting hurt was something to avoid. As a way of comfort for both himself and his friend, he gave Nova's hand a squeeze.

"I... I am a deeply wounded person, I'm sure you're aware." Jun felt Aster squeeze his hand. Even as nervous as the astrophysicist was, he still tried to comfort the veteran. "War changes people. I changed so much, sometimes I wonder if I am truly myself sometimes, a glorified Ship of Theseus."

The lump in his throat forced him to pause. It was never an easy topic to breach, but the manager was past dreading it.

"Jun, there's no need to force yourself-

Holding up his free hand to indicate to his friend to save whatever speech he was about to bestow him. Neon wanted to have this conversation with him. Needed to.

"I've gotten better, by my own effort and with the help of others. You've been part of that. I'm grateful. Then, before I knew it, that gratefulness began to be something more."

Aster shifted in place, although thankfully he did not let go of his hand. "I'm not following," his voice was wavery. Jun sensed that there was a hint of bashfulness, maybe even hope underneath the uncertainty.

"Yes you are, you're brilliant."

"Thank you-"

"Seriously, the heat signatures on your face are quite blinding. I didn't think it was possible for your face to get that bright."

The punch to his shoulder was well deserved, but the veteran found it worth it given that his friend finally relaxed enough to process his following words.

"Listen Aster, I do love you. I also understand that your form of love is not defined yet. However, I... This is going to sound embarrassing considering 1010's branding... I'm not ready for love. I want to be ready; to love and to be loved. I have to work on myself before I involve myself in any relationship though. Frankly, I'm scared of not being able to provide what you need, and I struggle when it comes to voicing my own needs- "

"I'm aware of how stubborn you are when it comes to asking for help." Nova's voice sounded odd; quiet, distant although the playfulness of his statement remained. Although comforting, Jun couldn't remember a time were his friend ever sounded like that.

"Oh hush!" Neon huffed, leaning back against the couch. "... I don't know if this is a selfish request, but can you stay by my side until I'm ready? I might take a while."

Aster remained silent, and Jun felt a pang of fear. Had he overstepped boundaries? Was there something he had misinterpreted? Then, muffled sniffles drew the veteran's attention. When he gazed over at his friend Jun instantly understood what was happening.

"... Are you-"

"I'm not crying!" The DJ lied blatantly. Currently, his face was a kaleidoscope of temperatures, with bright downward streaks of blue. "I'm just happy..."

With a soft chuckle, Neon responded, "Of course. I felt like that too when I heard your confession. I bet it was startling to witness though, after all my components weren't calibrated to handle so many electrical impulses at once."

"..... That was you emoting joy?"

"You are aware that emotions are electrochemical impulses, right?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with- Wait," Jun dreaded the fact that his friend was intelligent. He tended to catch on to certain topics too fast, "you... You were so happy that you short-circuited your monitor and overactivated your cooling system, essentially overclocking your entire body?"

"Don't laugh. Star, I'm serious, don't laugh, my components are not cheap."

It was inevitable, as the DJ was reduced to childish giggles. Jun accepted his fate of being eternally teased for his malfunction and laughed with him until they were both wheezing messes, nearly a melted pile on the couch.

The silence now was a comfortable one. The veteran's hand rested warmly in the astrophysicist's.

"Oh!" Aster perked up, seemingly remembering something of importance, "I uh, I made you something... Well, to be more accurate it turned into a group project at some point, and I'll admit that my handiwork is not the best in this case, although I assure you this does not represent the quality of my work," as he rambled, the nervousness became more apparent.

"Show me?"

After fumbling with his satchel, Nova took out...

A nondescript object.

Neon had no idea what it was supposed to be. His thermal vision could only do so much. Even so, graciously he took the object in hand.

The first thing he noticed was that it was soft; various fabrics clumsily stitched together. A particular seam almost made him snort, as there had to be at least five knots keeping the patches together, cotton filling threatening to burst out from in between.

The more he felt, the more Jun began to piece together an image in his head. The elongated neck and head initially made him think of a giraffe, however the circular flaps at the sides and the asymmetrical-in-length legs indicated that it was, in fact, a bird. A bird with a jacket and a hat, the extra fabric hugging the plush tight catching his attention.

The stripes on the sleeves, the almost rectangular patches on its chest, anchor insignia on the marine dress cap... A Vinyl City Marine Captain wearing a dress uniform. Just like him. When his thumb brushed against the fluffy crest of the plush bird, it all clicked. A crane, his favorite animal. Such inconsequential fact about him was remembered by Aster and drove him to create such a wonderful gift, crafted it in a way that, although clumsy, Neon would recognize it by touch alone.

Ever so quiet, ever so hesitant, Nova spoke to him, "Um, his name... His name is Grus, like the crane constellation."

Needless to say, Neon J was going to have to buy some components for himself, again. Although his thermal vision remained, he felt his ventilation system overheat, the internal UI glitched, electric surges coursed his body, short-circuiting his voice box. He figured that the monitor was going to need some replacement parts too. Well, all of that was less important than the fact that he felt loved with a simple and kind gesture.

"O̖̼ͩ͌͐ḣ̖̻͛̓- O̖̼ͩ͌͐ḣ̖̻͛̓ I̍̅̀̎̊ l̙͖̑̾ͣo̯̱̊͊͢v͒̄ͭ̏̇ẹ̿͋̒̕ ḣ̖̻͛̓ỉ͔͖̜͌ḿ̬̏ͤͅ," he sobbed out, hugging the plush crane close to his chest.

Even with his flickering vision, he could tell that Nova was shining bright, a cosmos of warmth, dotted with cold spots when the DJ sputtered, "Hey, there's no need to cry!"

"Ỵ̛̖͋͢o̯̱̊͊͢ư̡͕̭̇ s̠҉͍͊ͅā̤̓̍͘y҉̃̀̋̑ that, but y҉̃̀̋̑o̯̱̊͊͢ư̡͕̭̇'r̴̨̦͕̝ẹ̿͋̒̕ about to c͕͗ͤ̕̕r̴̨̦͕̝y҉̃̀̋̑ too." Jun pointed out petulantly, "C̵͉͋̔͞ā̤̓̍͘r̴̨̦͕̝ẹ̿͋̒̕f̵͖̜̉ͅư̡͕̭̇l̙͖̑̾ͣ now, y҉̃̀̋̑o̯̱̊͊͢ư̡͕̭̇ p̞̈͑̚͞r̴̨̦͕̝o̯̱̊͊͢b̬͖̏́͢ā̤̓̍͘b̬͖̏́͢l̙͖̑̾ͣy҉̃̀̋̑ don't ḣ̖̻͛̓ā̤̓̍͘v͒̄ͭ̏̇ẹ̿͋̒̕ ā̤̓̍͘ warranty o̯̱̊͊͢ṇ̤͛̒̍ t̲̂̓ͩ̑ḣ̖̻͛̓ā̤̓̍͘t̲̂̓ͩ̑ glass dome o̯̱̊͊͢f̵͖̜̉ͅ yours."

"Actually, I do, but do you have warranty on literally any of your components?"

"N̺̻̔̆ͅo̯̱̊͊͢, I̍̅̀̎̊ didn't think I̍̅̀̎̊ w̦̺̐̐͟o̯̱̊͊͢ư̡͕̭̇l̙͖̑̾ͣḑ̴̞͛̒ c͕͗ͤ̕̕r̴̨̦͕̝y҉̃̀̋̑ this ḿ̬̏ͤͅư̡͕̭̇c͕͗ͤ̕̕ḣ̖̻͛̓ so s̠҉͍͊ͅo̯̱̊͊͢o̯̱̊͊͢ṇ̤͛̒̍," as if to mock him, the internal fan inside his forearm went up in smoke.

Between tears of joy and relieved laughter, between the activated sprinkler system and the eventual arrival of firefighters, between the highly exasperated scolding of Tatiana, 1010's worried assessment of their health, and the reporters trying to get the latest news, Jun Won and Aster Leavitt stood side by side, hands subtly brushing through it all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you everyone for the wait! College and interships got my hands tied;; Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter too! One Epilogue left!

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Never been so happy to finally repeat myself once again but remember to go give love to the amazing writer @inkedfeather9 -!!

#Patchwork Care Fan Fic #no straight roads #nsr #dj subatomic supernova #nsr djss #neon j #nsr neon j #I'm also so sorry for the wait- I just got the chance to read through it only today!#oh and since it has been a while- one more reminder that the actual writer is Inkedfeather9!! I'm at most a proof reader of sort oh oh #I missed your way of writing and characterizing them so much but I'm so glad you're taking your time with these last chapters!!#they're always an absolute treat to read-#not going to say more to not spoil it for the others!

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gamermattsgf · 2 months

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“Cool spider…” // Tattoo artist Chris

Warnings: sextape / colleague relationship / favour for a favour trope / riding / petty Chris x reader / nose piercing!Chris / spanking kink / mommy kink / slight breeding kink / tattoo!Chris / praise kink / ownership kink / degradation kink / ‘good girl’ / creampie / unprotected sex / hair pulling / exhibitionist kink / scratch kink / tit play / overstimulation

Summary: you and Chris both work in a tattoo & piercing gallery, and your toxic ex just won’t leave you alone… so Chris decides to shut him up and put him in his place.

Author’s notes: I’m baaack. someone’s seriously got to stop me from making up fics on stuff that I’ve just randomly yapped about and blogged for fun. Me: posting about tattoos I’d think Chris would look good with. Also me: ‘-now hang on a sec that’s actually given me a great idea…’ *pulls out a notebook and starts vigorously writing shit down*.

“Gotta know, I ate her, she's so sweet, now or later. I want that all the time, all the time I'll make you all mine” - Toes Down, Loukeman

. ♱ .

You sigh, checking your phone once again before flipping it back around to face the desk. You shake your head and put it into your hands to rub it slowly in exhaustion. This is the fifth time he’s texted you today and your patience with him was slowly thinning.

‘You good?’

Chris mumbles absentmindedly from his hunched over position at the counter. He has his shirt off - as he usually does - to keep himself cool as the ceiling fan whirls above your heads. You look at his back, and the way his light wash blue jeans wrap around his lean waist lowly.

His right arm moves languidly as he sketches out a stencil for one of his clients, the graphite of his lead pencil scratching against his favourite sketchbook soothingly in the otherwise quiet atmosphere of the tattoo parlour.

You admire the jet black ink adorning his torso, that stretches from the bottom of his spine to cover the expanse of his shoulder blades in jaggedly aggressive patterns, the back tattoo attractively sat over his otherwise soft skin.

The muscles wrapped around his shoulders move as he draws, and you can’t help but swallow thickly at the sight of them.

‘Yeah… I’m fine’

You reply, not at all convinced by your own weak attempt of trying to mask your obvious distaste for the sight of the messages on your Lock Screen whilst you shuffle about trying to clean a needle gun.

‘Oh really? Cos’ I’m hearin’ a great deal of sighing for your corner of the room and not alotta action…’

Chris sarcastically snorts back, his voice containing buckets of care masked within the joking manner. He doesn’t even bother turning his face, far too absorbed by the current drawing of a tiger he was doing on someone’s chest in a couple of weeks time whilst he expertly shaded in the small black stripes of its rippling body.

You pause for a minute, debating on whether or not you should actually tell Chris about what’s been going on. It’s your ex. And Chris doesn’t like him at all. So how is he going to react when you tell him he’s been quite literally harassing you for the past couple of weeks?

Not well is your guess…

Even though you two are co-workers, you share an extremely close relationship and tell each other practically everything, which sometimes readily blurs the lines between your strictly professional work ethics.

‘Ugh fine, it’s Max, he’s just sort of been bothering me lately…’

This catches Chris’ attention, and his head perks up. Craning his neck he looks back at you with narrowing eyes of suspicious icy blue.

From this angle over his shoulder you can see the gleam of his silver nose ring, and his torso twists just enough to reveal a new tattoo. One that you actually did on him yourself.

It was a delicate but bold patchwork tattoo of a large black widow spider, its long spindly legs stretching across the expanse of his ribs and looking like it was using them to scale up his chest. You struggle to hide a smile at being able to remember doing it on him so well.

You can easily recall the faint buzz of the needle gun and Chris’ soft occasional groans as you punched in the bulbous back of the widow’s body onto his skin that rose and fell to the rhythm of his exhales.

It must have been a sensitive part of Chris’ body because his breathing had been raggedy and his eyes had been squeezed shut for a majority of the tattoo. You had faintly mumbled ‘cool spider… you draw it yourself?’ To which he had responded with a grunt and an affectionate ‘duh’.

Whenever his eyes had opened to look at you they had been dilated heavily, with either pain or pleasure, you’re not quite sure.

He glares over at you and shakes his head. ‘Not this fucking idiot again… what’s he done this time?’.

Chris’ patience for Max has never been there, and he’s often one to be petty about every single move your ex boyfriend makes.

Chris has never liked him and so rejoiced when he heard from you that the break up had been messy on his side of the bargain.

Max was trouble, and so you had done the right thing when breaking things off with him. However, Max wasn’t one to easily let go, and he had been pestering you to take him back ever since.

‘Just being his normal asshole self I suppose’.

You’re deliberately vague with Chris, because you don’t want him to get all riled up like he usually does. He had given up his sketch now and had fully turned to lean his back and elbows onto the counter, knowing that you telling him this information was far more important than the task at hand.

His eyes then flick to the door of the studio, where the welcome sign hangs in the centre of the glass window pane. All around the door are frames of hundreds of different tattoos, all in the different styles of each of the employees that work here. No one else is working today though, it’s just Chris and yourself maning the store.

Chris is a primarily black work realist, and so his designs take up quite a lot of time, their lifelike splendour forking cash loads of money into his bank account whenever a piece is completed.

Multiple clients of his have been here for months as Chris prefers to take his artwork in sessions so the healing isn’t as tenuous.

Quite a few of his previous works have been photographed and framed about the waiting area, just to showcase his impressive ability.

Your area of speciality is more in line with fine line tattoos, you prefer delicacy over all else and likewise, some of your bigger works have been photographed and framed about the shop.

‘You got any more scheduled clients with appointments today?’ Chris spontaneously enquires, and you can tell simply by his face that he is pondering some form of idea within his head that makes you nervous. You hesitate with your response.

‘…Emm- no, I don’t think so?’.

Chris nods mischievously and smirks with his mouth open and his tongue pushing against the side of his teeth playfully.

‘I’m gonna need a little bit more of an explanation than just ‘he’s being an asshole’ then, cherry…’ Chris sing-songs as he pushes himself from off of his slouched position and starts to exit from behind the counter.

The nickname ‘Cherry’ had caught on fairly quickly between the two of you, because Chris had thought that you honestly looked way too sweet to be working in a downtown, grungy tattoo shop. After his first usage of the fond name it had just kind of stuck and now always sounded like molten amber honey dripping from his mouth.

He puts ‘he’s being an asshole’ in knowing quotation marks because he already knows how much of an asshole Max is. He’s experienced it before whenever your ex has decided to show up to your place of work and be a nuisance.

You’re pretty sure you almost had to hold Chris back from planting a right hook into his jaw one time because he had knocked over a bunch of new inks the store had just purchased for everyone’s clients.

Chris’ jaw had clenched immeasurably and you had quickly veered in front of him to plant your palms onto his collarbones after he had taken a large stride towards Max.

You had held him back gently, telling him to take several deep breaths and keep cool whilst you dealt with it.

Well… your version of dealing with it was calmly escorting him out of the shop and reassuring him that you’d see each other later before meekly returning back into the reception area to face a fuming Chris who immediately rolled his eyes and spat a quick ‘I’m gonna ban that bitch from coming in here next time he shows his ratty lookin’ face…’

You had simply sighed, shook your head, and tenderly patted him on the shoulder.

At the present, you squirm nervously when you see the way Chris walks right up to the door, before twisting the heavy duty lock on it and flipping the welcome sign to the side that displayed a big ‘closed’ on the front that was visible to passing strangers.

‘Chris it’s not that big of a deal honestly!’ You try and laugh it off as Chris spins back around. He then walks right up to you.

Grabbing one of the other chairs at the desk you were sitting at, he turns it around so that he can comfortably straddle it.

‘Uhh, well that’s where you’re wrong because it just so happens that my favourite girl’s ex is bothering her, and if she’s gotta problem with it… then so do I’ he sassily bites back, referring to you in the third person as he rests his taut forearms onto the spine of the chair, which gives himself something to lean on.

You have to ignore the way your stomach flips when he calls you his favourite girl, and you shyly flit your eyes to the floor whilst still fumbling around with the tattoo gun.

‘Well um… he just- he just keeps uhh’ you start, stuttering and having to sigh in utter frustration at not even being able to articulate your words properly.

Suddenly your eyes feel hot, and they sting a little. You are not going to cry in front of him. You panic when your voice wobbles and try to regain your composure as Chris looks at you with a worried expression.

‘Hey- hey… s’okay cherry, s’alright. Take your time, I’m here’.

Chris notices your flustered state and coos gentle reassurance at you whilst stretching one of his hands out to softly stroke the ball of your shoulder, right on the section of naked skin where the fabric of your top straps don’t quite reach.

You want to say that Chris is just being friendly, but somehow, the way he touches you tells a different story. It could have just been a harmless pat, but instead he had curled the knuckles of his hand and used them to soothingly skim up and down your skin, slowly, repetitively… almost sensually.

Chris liked any excuse to touch you. You were so soft and supple, a major contrast to his own skin. And he hated seeing a man like that crumple you up like a simple ball of paper and toss you into the trash.

You take one last stuttering breath before continuing.

Gazing at Chris’ soft smile and focusing on the calming gleam of his nose piercing, you find yourself relaxing once again as you take your time to look at each of his individual statement pieces whilst relaying your story.

His silver nose ring, his two lobe piercings that were decorated with spiked metal hoops, and his helix piercing, that came in the form of a small snake charm. It shone in the natural light of the room as it slithered up the expanse of his cartilage and provided a nice distraction for you.

‘I don’t know… h-he’s just saying these disgusting things about my body, and- and how I’m never going to find someone that will treat me better than him in bed. Just general filthy shit like that…’ you mumble, feeling absolutely humiliated and degraded at having to tell Chris about what Max has been saying to you as you sniffle and rub your nose.

As you explain yourself, the motion of Chris stroking your arm slows up significantly, and his little smile fades with every word you speak to him. His eyes narrow, something you noticed he does whenever he’s seething with rage.

‘Gimme your phone, I wanna see these texts’ Chris quips demandingly, using the hand that was once rubbing your skin to unfold itself and silently ask for your phone.

You sigh and hand it to him without much of a fight. You know that there’s no use in trying to argue with Chris when he gets like this. He’s driven, and once he has an idea there’s rarely anything you can do to deter him from it.

He unlocks your phone, already knowing your password, and starts to scroll through the endless shower of sexually abusive messages. You bite your lip as you look at him reading them over.

He sits on the backwards chair with his jean-clad thighs casually spread out, still one arm resting on top of the spine whilst the other one holds the phone and vigorously scrolls downwards.

You then flick your eyes to his face, and the way his rosy lips wet themselves as they quietly announce some of the words that he reads back to himself. The further down he goes the more furrowed his brows get.

Suddenly he shakes his head with an angry tick and slams your phone face down onto the table. You jump slightly at this, and blink at a Chris that had immediately shot to a stand.

‘That’s it, m’not dealing with this shit anymore. If he can’t leave you the fuck alone then I’ll make him.’

You look at him in confusion.

‘What’s that supposed to mean…?’ you shyly trail off but your question is shortly answered as soon as Chris bends down to level with you and seamlessly digs his palms into your thighs so that he can pluck you up from off of your chair.

You yelp a little in shock, your heartbeat thrumming against your ribcage before you quietly recover as Chris curls your legs around his hips. Upon touch, your hands instinctively fly to grip onto the back of his neck, his skin being warm and tepid.

The scruff of his long hair feels like satin tickling over your fingers and Chris groans in achievement as soon as he feels your thighs tense against his waist.

He’s been waiting for an excuse to do this.

‘Max is tellin’ you that you’re never gonna get a better fuck than him? Well I’m about to prove him wrong, s’that okay with you, cherry?’ Chris asks, not really expecting no for an answer as he starts to walk over the squeaking floorboards to the backrooms of the shop.

He knows exactly where he’s going and something deep within your core flutters at this assertive kind of attitude.

Chris has always been the extremely blunt and forward type of guy- if you looked pretty that day, he’d tell you, and make it obvious that he was attracted to you.

Today was no different, you could tell he had every intention of fucking you and making it extremely clear to Max just how good he was going to do it.

‘Y-yeah’ is just about all you can muster in your shaky state.

As you look down at Chris’ face, his chocolatey waves tussle in a rather wild-looking way whilst nestled about his pierced ears. Your fingers timidly skim about his neck, and one of them draws nervous patterns over the black bat tattoo situated behind his right ear that he had gotten for his brother a year ago.

‘That’s my girl’ he praises cockily as he barges through the beaded entrance way into one of the client operating rooms. There’s a black leather stretcher in the centre of the room and a stool sitting idle right beside it where the artist sits.

Chris goes straight for the client table though.

He smirks a toothy grin as he plops you down onto the spongy leather and you find it within yourself to crack an equally as excited smile. He nudges open your legs so that he can stand in between them and weighs his hands down onto your hips, pressing his thumbs into your bones and rubbing them fondly.

‘Did Max kiss you at all when you two fucked?’ He asks breathlessly with his cerulean eyes lilting down to your lips hungrily.

He’s itching to get all over you. He’s been dying to taste your tongue on his for ages and it just so happens that this posed as the perfect, sneaky way to do so.

‘Well, hm… not that much, but I guess a-’ you start to explain, but ‘not much’ is enough of a pathetic answer for Chris to fall forward and engulf your lips in between his before you can finish anyway.

Your little muffled whine of shock is swallowed by a Chris that attaches himself to your bottom lip quickly.

Winding one of his hands behind your back, he uses that - and the other one gripping your hip - to yank your body towards his. You two stay flushed together, and you can feel Chris’ throbbing prick against the seam of your pants already. He’s hard, and clearly pent up for you behind his low-waisted jeans.

‘That’s not good enough’ he mumbles, almost in a tongue-drunken stupor against your lips, criticising Max so that he can subtly defend his choice to kiss you.

Really, he had no need to, but fuck did he want to.

You don’t complain, in fact, you simply sigh at how close Chris is. You can feel his nose delicately skimming against your cheek the more he twists the side of his face to gain better access to you, and you can’t help but lust for the way his dewy lips wrap around your own.

The contrast between his cold fingertips brushing against your body and his hot tongue leeching out to slip into your open mouth makes you shiver.

‘N-no you’re completely right… that’s not good enough’ you coquettishly add on to the conversation you two have in between kisses. As you shit talk Max together, you only encourage Chris to take further jabs at him.

‘And what about these pretty little things here…? Did he touch these enough?’.

Chris’ nose trails down the line of your jaw to dip and run along the jugular vein of your neck whilst he pants desperately. He holds your sat figure into his standing leant one with one hand gripping your ass whilst the other one trails up to squeeze against one of your braless tits.

Wanting Chris to play with them, your blushing figure shakes its head and you swallow thickly. ‘No…’.

Chris hums a casual ‘huh’ in playfulness before the hand playing with it decides to slip itself under your shirt for better access. You heavily hiss and arch your back as soon as skin on skin contact is reached and Chris gingerly touches your peaked nipple.

‘You make me feel like such a pervert when you don’t wear a bra to shifts we do together because I stare at them all the time…’ Chris confesses as he gently kneads one of them within his big palm. Whilst he does this, his face buries itself into your neck to pepper sprinkles of sloppy kisses all over your skin.

‘What if I told you I do it on purpose… I like it when you look…’ you breathe with your head knocked back in pleasure. Chris stops his assault on your neck to gaze at you with raised eyebrows of shock.

‘Fuck. Max was an idiot for fumbling you…’

This makes both your heart flutter and your core drip. You like Chris’ praise a lot more than you like Max’s degradation, and make sure to let Chris know this by giving him another kiss.

‘S’mommy gonna let me suck on her tits?’ He ponders in a feigned babyish voice against your lips, the sweet lilt of his sensual tone almost making you melt into the client’s table.

Your needy reply of ‘yes’ is soon followed by an immediate response from Chris, who slowly reaches into his back pocket for his phone.

He slides it out and then presents it in front of your face with his brows raised.

‘And is mommy gonna let me film it so that I can send it to Max and let him see me having my treat?’.

Your eyes flick to the phone, then to Chris’ expectant face, absolutely drowning in lust at the thought of Chris wanting to film himself sucking on your tits. You nod without hesitation, and Chris smirks in victory.

He’s definitely using this to touch himself later.

Chris quickly fumbles around with his phone in excitement, scrubbing his home screen into his camera roll before he’s pressing the small red button to record himself propping it up onto the counter right next to where you were sitting.

You watch within a trance as Chris feeds his hands into the bottom of your top to sensually slide it right up your ribs. He then runs it over the top of your tits and leaves it to rest above them with a purr of ‘good girl’.

You feel your knees get physically weaker at the sight of Chris veering his face down into your tits, his mouth almost feathers against them as both of you look at the camera at the same time.

Chris has a little victorious smirk on his face, that he smugly flashes to his phone before turning back in and gently kissing your nipple.

He can’t stop his conniving smile as you seal your eyes shut and throw your head back, whimpering with your fingers combed into the back of his hair and tugging on it. Chris makes a show of poking out his tongue and licking you before he fully kisses one of your tits into his mouth to suck on it.

He moans a little starved whimper at the feeling of your soft flesh in his mouth whilst his tongue rolls and his teeth clamp down onto you.

His hands get grabby as you pant, listening to the way the microphone of the camera absorbs the sloppy sounds of him sucking on your skin whilst he kisses and licks wherever he can.

‘That feel good huh?’ Chris mumbles into you, and you whine in response with a stuttered ‘so- so good’. He nods cockily, eying the camera with your second tit already in between his teeth. ‘Yeah? This the best mouth you’ve ever had?’.

Struggling to fight off his smile at the comment he completely stole from Max, he knows it’ll make your ex’s blood boil, especially when you reply with an instantaneous shout of, ‘fuck- yes, I- I need more baby!’.

‘You want more?’ He drawls temptingly, pulling away from your chest that was now red and glistening, some sections littered with subtle teeth marks and some with purpling hickies.

‘I’ll give you more baby’ he laughs through his teeth before pressing his fingertips onto your core.

‘Hope you’re soaking for me, you’re gunna need it’ he quips before lightly trailing his hand up to the button of your zipper.

Your core clenches again when he pops it open, the insinuation that you need to be extra wet for him because of his size making you want to pass out in horniness.

He opens the front of your jeans before feeding his hands underneath your thighs so that he can pull you towards him and also force you onto your back to tug your jeans down.

After that, he watches the way you squirm when he sticks his fingers into the side of your sheer panties. In view of the camera, the pad of his thumb swipes up your slit as he checks your sensitivity himself.

‘Awe angel you are soaked… what a good girl for me’.

His sweet praise melts over you in the best way possible, and you can’t help but get shy and cover up your eyes to smile.

Sometimes you forget that the camera is there, but Chris never does, and he glances over at it constantly to smirk as if Max is already watching on the other end of the line before turning his attention back to admire you.

‘I’m gonna make that pretty pussy feel so fucking good momma’ Chris boldly states as he starts to fumble around with his chunky and glamorously rhinestoned belt buckle. The leather of it flaps and his buckle gives a metallic jingle whilst he undoes it, his hair falling in front of his eyes because of the downwards slant his head holds.

‘Please- I really need you’ you mumble breathlessly, spreading your legs even further in reaction to seeing the stretch of his cock against his white Calvin Klein boxers as soon as he lets his jeans drop to the floor with a heavy crumple.

From here you can see his thigh tattoo of a crooked spiders web, done in extremely fine ink, delicate but dark.

‘I know you need me baby I know- be patient alright?’ He shushes you with a reassuring coo, before sliding to the side of you and hopping up onto the table himself. He positions himself right in front of his still recording phone so that he can get the best angle for this.

‘Why don’t you go ahead an’ take off those panties for the camera sweet girl… do it for me?’.

Chris’ whiny sounding voice is just so sugary and compelling. You’re pretty sure you would do anything he asked if it really came to that extreme because along with his voice, his lips and eyes really did the trick for you.

Chris stutters a breath as soon as he pushes his hand down his boxers to take ahold of his hot, silky cock, it’s skin already wet with precome at just how divine you had sounded whilst he was attached to your tits.

He tightens his fist to squeeze himself and throbs in his hand, his mouth dropping open and his shoulders heaving as you slide off the table and strip from your clothes fully.

As soon as you’re done, you can feel your wetness trickling and sloshing about your folds, and so you squeeze your thighs together when looking at Chris for his next instruction.

Chris hungrily gazes down to your panties that lie in a messy heap on top of your jeans. ‘Gimme those?’ He commands and gestures for you to grab a hold of your panties and give them over to him, which you do obediently and without question.

Chris grasps ahold of them and balls them up into his fist before smirking at the camera once again. ‘These are mine now… so’s your pussy’.

You turn red at this low and beastly remark, trying hard not to pounce on top of Chris for saying it. He talks so smoothly. It’s as if every word his mouth forms puts you under a lemony haze of pleasure and you just can’t get enough of it.

You just don’t understand how he can keep this up when you yourself already look like a fucked-out hot mess.

‘I’m all yours Chris’

You practically flee into his awaiting arms, and he hoists your bare and pink centre over his lap.

Kissing your tits again, he grips onto your fleshy thighs and moans a whimper whilst side eyeing the camera in ultimate possessiveness, just to make a show of it being him who’s sucking your tits, and not Max.

He’s going to feel so smug and proud of himself as soon as he sends this his way.

‘Can I have your cock Chris, please?’ You beg, stroking his waves of hair once again to butter him up - not that you’d really need to work all that much to have his cock in the first place…

‘Of course you can Cherry, you’ve been so good for me’ Chris replies as his fingertips stroke against your stretch marks, before he leans in and whispers ‘help yourself…’.

You glance down to the tent in his boxers with your lip bitten and a giddy little smirk on your face. After Chris invites you, you waste no time in pulling his weeping cock from out of the restraints of his boxers.

The hip tattoo he has of a Cupid with angel wings, a halo and a winking face soon makes itself known to you after you tug his underwear down a little further. The ink of the little boy’s heart-encrusted bow and arrow cheekily point right to the base of Chris’ cock, and so you crack a smile, shaking your head fondly at Chris’ inappropriate but witty humour.

He’s thick and throbs in your hand, his tip sticky and slick as it pulses a light pink taffy colour whilst a thick blue vein pokes itself out from the side of his length to travel right down to his base. ‘Fuck’ you breathe. Chris looks at you cockily and is very much pleased with your wanton response.

‘Want you to sit on it till it hurts and you can’t no more precious girl’ he mumbles as he hitches your hips up into his hands and lifts you above him. You nod with a little ‘Uhuh’, your stomach flipping and oozing to feel the stretch of him. He’s bigger than Max, and the thought makes you careen in pleasure.

You almost forget that you two are both supposed to be at work, because all of this feels so private and intoxicating, and the implication of Chris making it into sex tape gives you life.

As soon as you’re placed on top of him, you hold his base so that you can sink down properly, and both of you choke out whines at how fucking amazing it feels.

‘Shit… still tight honey… has Max really been using you properly or is his cock just that small?’.

Chris can’t help it. He gets off on criticising your priggish ex boyfriend because he truly fucking hates his guts. And damn does it feel good to be fucking you with the intention of letting the man himself know through the recording of it.

‘Fuck, I feel so full’ you speak into the air.

You then have to bite your hand so that you don’t draw tears because of the burning stretch Chris gives you. It’s almost unbearably uncomfortable for the first minute of bottoming out.

But then it stops being uncomfortable and starts making you squirm again at needing some form of friction to move yourself.

So you do.

Lifting your hips slightly, you slip back downwards and grind forwards at the same time whilst Chris looks up at you with star-ridden irises. They twinkle in the light and he pants heavily after every time you move.

He soon starts to naturally move himself, needing to respond to you in some sort of way.

He loves watching your tits bounce whilst you rise and fall onto his cock, the sticky slickness of it slapping within his ears and making him want to come all over your insides already. You squeeze him so fucking well, and he equally stretches you out to the limit.

The rough skin of his prick steadily rubs against your walls and ignites an explosion of sensitivity within your centre whenever Chris pushes himself far enough to hit your g-spot. He’s so big he almost bulges from your stomach.

‘Who owns this pussy, who does it belong to?’ He barks as you squeeze your eyes closed and scrunch your nose up, having to slam your head onto his shoulder because of your overstimulation in pleasure.

You stutter out a quick ‘ugh- y-you’ as you feel Chris’ fingers grab onto your hips because of their slowing roll. He digs them into your skin and starts to move you himself at an even faster pace which makes you whine even louder.

‘Sorry… not quite sure Max heard you- can you say that again for me Cherry?’ Chris meanly rebutts and makes your cheeks flame red after he actually takes his palm and harshly swats it against the side of your thigh. You yelp at the brash cracking sound the sweaty skin-on-skin contact creates, but nevertheless still cry a humiliated ‘you!’.

Chris praises you immediately after with a soothing ‘that’s right… good girl’, before starting up his sly and conniving antics once again.

‘And whose name are you gonna be screaming from now on hmm?’.

Chris’ little taunting hum is fucking petty. But also, just what you need to finally cum.

‘Yours Chris! Fuck- all yours!!’.

You’re almost shouting as you arch your spine and throw your head back in ecstasy whilst your legs quiver and an almighty wave of euphoria rushes over your whole entire being.

‘Awe baby… cumming already? I was just getting started…’ Chris coos cockily as he lets go of one of your hips to soothingly stroke against your back with a pretty pout on his lips.

However that pout doesn’t stay for long because it struggles to fight the smirk that quickly overtakes his facial expression at the thought of how quickly he had made you cum.

He glances at the camera once more, to admire the position the both of you were in with dilated eyes, before focusing back onto you and speedily forcing your hips up and down a couple more times to finish himself off.

You squeak and claw at him in overstimulated pain, whining for him to slow down, but all he does is gently hush you in comfort. ‘I know shhh, I know. Wanna make sure I fill you up nice and good though baby’.

His voice is so gentle, and in lulls you into a drooling stupor with tears in your eyes as you claw at his tattooed back with your sharp nails. That’s going to leave heafty scratch marks.

Chris is tempted to wipe them away, but doesn’t have enough time before he’s groaning loudly and his tip is uncontrollable squirting out thick ropes of cum.

He bounces your hips a couple more times to get rid of as much as he possibly can. He wants to see it practically leaking from out of your abused hole. After he thinks you’ve milked him dry, he lets go of your bruised waist and you crumple back down into his embrace.

He rubs your back as you try to desperately regain your breath with your core raw, stinging and slimy with Chris’ cum.

‘There’s my good girl… taking all of me like that. Swear I’ll give you my babies next time you take me that well.’ He absentmindedly praises you for the last time, and you find it within yourself to laugh in disbelief, shaking your head before you slap his shoulder and lean upwards to look at him in the eyes once more.

‘Okay… you’ve proved your point. Now stop recording so I can kiss you a little more.’

Your thumbs stroke the bags underneath his eyes, and his smile is so sunny that you’re sure it could have opened up flowers on a dewy spring morning.

‘Yes ma’am…’

. ♱ .

Later that evening, Chris had sat alone in the tattoo parlour.

He had told you that you could go home early and that he’d sanitise the rooms and lock up as a special treat for you.

You had done as you were told and left a while ago, which left Chris to watch back the sex tape that you two had made earlier with a mean and satisfied smirk slapped over his lips.

He had rewatched it about 3 times, admiring the way both of you had moved with the volume all the way up to listen to your heavenly sounding whimpers. He had replayed his favourite bits a great deal and was fucking obsessed. He couldn’t help himself.

He had then exited the camera app and went straight into Instagram, searching up Max’s account profile to slide into his DMs.

With one final smirk, he had bitten his lip victoriously and selected the video of you and him together before attaching it and typing one final thing before clicking the send button and locking his phone.

Might wanna think next time you make bold allegations about how she’ll never find a better D x

. ♱ .

Author’s notes p.2: guys I’m actually so sorry for disappearing off the face of Tumblr for fuck knows how long without an explanation. Truthfully there isn’t really much of an explanation apart from the fact that I’ve simply been too busy to write (and have also had major writers block atm- hence me and @luv4kozume collab taking so long lol). BUT I’m back with something that has actually turned into one of my favourite pieces of writing on this blog, so I hope it’s been worth the wait!! I love all of you guys for asking where I’ve been and equally as much for missing me. I’ve missed writing for you guys so much and am absolutely obsessed with tattoo artist!Chris, also don’t worry you guys, you’ll get cherry popper 3 one of these days lmao… Anyways, until next time cherry pies!! 🍒

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 8 months

Text

When The World Is Crashing Down [Chapter 5: Turn Off The Lights And Turn Off The Shyness]

Series summary: Your family is House Celtigar, one of Rhaenyra’s wealthiest allies. In the aftermath of Rook’s Rest, Aemond unknowingly conscripts you to save his brother’s life. Now you are in the liar of the enemy, but your loyalties are quickly shifting…

Chapter warnings: Language, warfare, Otto being the worst (per usual), violence, serious injury, cryptic Helaena prophecies, alcoholism/addiction, references to sexual content including noncon (18+), dragons, demented flirting, a late-night surprise, Larys Strong returns. 😞

Series title is a lyric from: “7 Minutes In Heaven” by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Of All The Gin Joints In All The World” by Fall Out Boy.

Word count: 6.3k.

Link to chapter list: HERE.

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The sun would burn him, but moonlight is kind. You’re on the balcony of Aegon’s bedchamber, two chairs, two cups of wine, another full pitcher on the table between you, a glass bottle of warm rose oil like amber, like gold, freckled with curled ruby petals. You’re dressed in your usual attire, simple designs and neutral colors, greys and creams and dusky pinks; tonight your gown is a flat, inky blue that matches the night sky. Aegon is wearing his unpretentious cotton trousers—stained with splotches of pomegranate juice, his recompense before you allowed him the wine—and a tiny braid in his shaggy, silver hair.

“I look like your house’s sigil,” Aegon says as he massages rose oil onto his forearms, his palms moving in large sloppy circles over a patchwork of scar tissue; you would do a better job, but he says he wants to learn how to care for his wounds on his own. His dragon ring—gold wings, jade eyes—gleams in the cool, ghostly moonshine. His words are teasing, but his tone is dark, troubled, weary. “Some red, some white. All ugly.”

You smile. You aren’t agreeing, just playing along. “Our motto is better than our flag.”

“I might have been inebriated during that lesson.”

“Perpetual Resurrection.”

Aegon looks at you, confounded. “Quite the mouthful.”

“Crabs molt throughout their lifetime. They crack their own skins open and climb out. If they get stuck, they die. If they get attacked before their new shell hardens, they die. But if they live…they’re a brand new version of themselves. Larger, wiser, more powerful.”

“Spiders,” Aegon says. “You’re trying to placate me with some rousing metaphor about what are essentially aquatic spiders.”

“They’re tasty too,” you say, grinning. “Especially when their shells are still soft. The cooks would serve them fried and us kids would sit around the table ripping the legs free and throwing them at each other.”

“What, you can eat the crab whole?!”

“Yes. Once the faces are cut off and the organs scooped out.”

He pretends to be repulsed by you. “Harrowing. Revolting. This is why Targaryens have always refused to breed with your kind.”

It’s funny, but it isn’t, because it’s a little too close to what you’re both thinking. Under the moonlight, you watch Aegon with the words caged behind your teeth: What do you want most? Who are you in your bones? Where would we be if the world wasn’t crashing down around us?

He slathers rose oil on his scarred right cheek—carelessly, distractedly—and accidentally pokes himself in the eye. “Ow.”

You ask: “Why do you want to do that yourself now?”

“To prove I can. To feel ever so slightly less like an invalid.” He takes a swig of his wine and gazes out over the nightscape ocean, stars in the sky, stars reflected on waves. “I am a study in irony. I spent my whole life waiting for it to be over. I poisoned myself, wasted years, resisted any semblance of usefulness. And now I finally have things I want to accomplish, I finally have reasons to live…and I’m trapped in the flesh of some pathetic, deformed, calamitously weak stranger.” He shakes his head, despondent, still not looking at you. “I can have a body that works. I can have a soul. But I can’t have both at the same time. It’s so fucking unfair.”

“I like you exactly as you are. Body and soul.”

“Everything I own, everything I’m given…” He stares down at his palms, open and empty. “It is destroyed, gets killed, goes mad. I ruin causes. I ruin people. I couldn’t do that to you.”

“I think I’m going to be ruined either way. I’d rather you be the one responsible.”

“Angel,” he says, low and serious. And now his gaze comes back to meet yours. “Who are you supposed to marry?”

You don’t want to tell him. You don’t want it to be true. Your voice is a whisper, almost lost in the night wind. “Cregan Stark.”

His eyes shoot wide, not just startled but terrified. “Stark?!”

You nod miserably. “My father took me and my sisters to Winterfell as part of a trade mission. Cregan decided he wanted me. I never encouraged it, I never desired it, I swear I didn’t—”

“No, I believe you,” Aegon says. He swallows a gulp of wine noisily, his hand shaking. “You were right. I can’t touch him. I can’t stop it. Not unless I win.”

“You don’t want the Iron Throne,” you tell Aegon, already knowing it’s true.

He snorts, a harsh derisive sound. “Who would?”

“Lots of people, I think. But not you or Rhaenyra.”

This intrigues him. “She doesn’t want it either?”

“Not from what I’ve seen and heard. Or, at least, she didn’t until Luke was killed. It changed her. I’m still not convinced she wants to be the queen, but she wants vengeance. And absolute power is a sure path to it.” And so the suffering continues, it goes around and around like a wheel, it is a debt that is never satisfied but only spread like plague.

“I don’t understand why Aemond did that,” Aegon says. His words are hushed, like he’s never spoken them to anyone but you and never will. “When he returned from Storm’s End, I held a feast for him. I had to, someone had to, someone had to pretend it was a victory instead of a murder. But it didn’t make any sense. Arrax was an inconvenience, not a threat. Luke was far more valuable as a hostage than a corpse. Aemond has always been the disciplined brother, the strategic one. I won’t claim to be clever. But I can’t find any strategy in what happened there.”

“Aemond has a temper. He is haunted, I believe. He is not above reckless fury.”

“No, evidently not.” Aegon sighs and rakes his fingers through his hair; again, his dragon ring glints under the moonlight, silver reflected off gold. “I’ll try to win,” he says. “For my family. For you.” Then he smirks, a grim attempt at humor. “Though I pity Cregan Stark for the paradise I will deprive him of.”

You do not return Aegon’s smile. “Don’t have too much pity for him. I have no expertise and I’m scared to death of it. I’d probably end up hiding under his bed, gripping the legs for dear life. He’d have to drag me out and tie me down.”

Aegon is alarmed; his storm-blue eyes are now focused, seeking. He is aware that he has wandered into a quagmire. He treads carefully. “When you say no expertise, you mean…none at all?”

“None.”

“But what about all of those anatomically-correct cock illustrations in your medical books?”

Another joke you can’t bring yourself to laugh at. You drink your wine to stop your lips from quivering, smooth the silk of your gown with a trembling hand. You see it no matter where you look: the pool of red on Theodora’s bedsheets, the dawning and inescapable realization on her face. This is her life now. This will always be her life.

Aegon says gently: “You have no expectation of pleasure.”

“It seems…inherently violent. For the woman. Even if it isn’t meant to be. Being overpowered, being invaded. The man decides when and how it happens. The woman endures.”

Aegon stares at you—biting his full lower lip, deeply somber—but doesn’t speak. He gives you the impression of someone with so many thoughts swimming around in his skull he is struggling to choose just one.

You smile dimly. “I’m sorry. I’ve made you sad.”

“I’m, um…” Aegon pauses to collect himself; he drains his wine cup and sets it back on the table. He is uncharacteristically cautious, like he thinks one unwise word will break the spell of whatever exists between you, this temptation, this need. “I’m saddened by the fact that you think of it that way. Because it doesn’t have to be…distasteful. Frightening. Coerced. It shouldn’t be, in fact.”

“I suppose I’ll find out if the Blacks win this war and Cregan Stark comes to claim me.”

Again, Aegon is exceptionally circumspect. “You’ve never wanted any man?”

“No. Never. Not in that way. Until…” You look at him, willing him to understand. I want you, but I’m so goddamn afraid to. I’m afraid of this world, I’m afraid there’s no hope left in it.

Slowly, Aegon smiles, soft and warm. And without any grasping, animalistic greed, he reaches over to rest a palm on your thigh, night-dark silk draped over skin that doesn’t flinch away from him, doesn’t even have to fight the instinct to. You place a hand on his. Your fingertips trace the gold wings of the green-eyed dragon ring he never takes off. And it is sealed like a covenant under the stars, this allegiance that neither of you could begin to explain to anyone else.

Footsteps are coming through Aegon’s bedchamber, heavy and purposeful. Otto Hightower appears in the balcony doorway. He fills the space like storm clouds flood a clear sky, like blood saturates linen. “You’re getting fat,” he tells Aegon gruffly.

“You’re getting ever more wrinkly and close to the afterlife.”

Otto glances to where Aegon’s hand still rests on your thigh and snaps: “If you’re well enough for that, perhaps you would deign to join us in the council chamber. You could shock everyone by actually acting like a king.”

Then he’s gone, taking those last echoes of the moment with him.

~~~~~~~~~~

“They know she’s here,” Larys Strong says. His audience is gathered around the table: Otto, Criston, Daeron, Grand Maester Orwyle, Tyland Lannister, Jasper Wylde, the knights of the Kingsguard, Aegon slumped way down in his seat and you beside him feeling his forehead worriedly for fever. Because Aegon and Daeron are in attendance, the council chamber is one chair short. Aemond has elected to be the person to stand; he lurks, severe and silent, in a corner of the room half-lit by torchlight. Daeron is dressed in a vibrant teal, Aegon in black; Aemond wears green, dark and brooding like envy.

Criston Cole asks: “How is that possible?”

Otto sighs irritably, rubbing his forehead. “We have spies. I’m sure Rhaenyra does as well.”

“Someone apparently glimpsed the prince regent…um…” Larys searches for the diplomatic word. “Escorting her through the streets of King’s Landing.”

“Dragging is what he did,” Aegon says, glaring at Aemond. “Abducting. Attacking. Imprisoning.” Aemond, arms crossed over his chest, studies his boots and pretends not to have heard him.

Larys continues: “The Blacks don’t believe that she is here of her own volition.”

Otto’s eyes narrow. “What, they think we’ve detained her as some sort of…healer? Hostage?”

“No, my lord,” Larys says, hesitantly, awkwardly. “They don’t imagine the king’s motivations to be that honorable.”

Otto is losing his patience. “Meaning?”

Larys toys with his restless, rodentlike hands. “They think she is being…violated.”

A stilted, scandalized hush falls over the table. “Good,” Aegon says, invoking gasps and gapes. “If Green supporters believe her to be my captive, they won’t harm her. And if the Blacks think she is being held here against her will, she would be safe with them as well. No matter who wins, she is not in danger.”

“That is hardly beneficial for your own reputation, Your Grace,” Tyland Lannister says.

Aegon grins beneath cold eyes; he shows his teeth like a wolf, like a dragon. “Was my reputation so pristine to begin with, Lord Lannister?”

“No, perhaps not,” Tyland mumbles. Still, he should not have said it aloud. Otto huffs another sigh and rolls his eyes.

“So you intend to keep a Celtigar daughter in your service?” Otto says to Aegon.

“I have no doubts concerning her loyalty.”

Larys adds: “My lord, I must say, I cannot see a tactical advantage in her saving the king’s life if she retains any loyalty to Rhaenyra’s cause.”

“Then why save him at all? Why bother? He was lying there half-dead, soon to be properly dead, and she brought him back practically singlehandedly. Why?”

“Mercy,” Aemond says quietly from the corner, and everyone turns to look at him. “Many people have none of it. She perhaps has too much. And now they have grown…” He gestures vaguely, perhaps bashfully. “Attached to each other.”

Jasper Wylde is dismayed. “But the king has a wife.”

Daeron snickers. “Yes, and that has always proved to be such a deterrent in the past.”

“Daeron,” Aegon cautions mildly.

The youngest Targaryen brother obediently sobers and shows the palms of his hands in contrition. “My apologies.” He hides his face with a slurp of his wine cup.

“And what about Cregan Stark?!” Otto exclaims. “You’d encourage his outrage, his Northerner savagery? Seven hells, he thinks you’re spending your days raping his betrothed, do you imagine that will not invoke fiercer wrath, put all of us at greater risk?!”

“Lord Stark was never a reachable ally to our cause, in my estimation,” Larys says calmly.

“That’s not the point, Larys! The point is—!”

“I can offer you something in return for the heightened danger you have assumed,” you interrupt, and these men stare at you as if suddenly remembering that you are here in the room with them, not a phantom or a myth or a cautionary tale but someone real. Aegon glances over, one eyebrow raised on his drawn, perspiring face. He doesn’t know what you’re going to say either.

Otto peers menacingly across the table. “What could you possibly have to barter with? The king is well enough now. He will live with or without you.”

“I have information. I know the workings of Rhaenyra’s council in the leadup to Rook’s Rest.”

“You attended her council meetings?”

“No, but I spent evenings with my father and brothers as they discussed them.”

Otto sits back in his chair, pondering you. After a moment, he nods. “Go on then.”

“I want one concession before I reveal what I know.”

“Besides being permitted indefinite room and board in the Red Keep, which you are in no way entitled to?”

“Not negotiable,” Aegon says.

Otto chuckles, humorless, incredulous, shaking his head. “Fucking insane. Alright. What is it you want, girl?”

“If any member of House Celtigar is taken captive, I want them to be given the opportunity to swear fealty to King Aegon and receive a full pardon for their sins. If they refuse, they are to go to the Night’s Watch, not the scaffold.”

“That’s your price? That’s it?”

“Yes.”

Otto is amused. “Nothing for you? No gold, no land?”

“No.” The prospect hadn’t even occurred to you.

“Not very self-serving. So unlike a Celtigar.” Otto grins, not kindly at all. “Your terms are accepted.”

You begin. “The Greens possess great wealth, now split for safekeeping between Oldtown, Casterly Rock, and the Iron Bank of Braavos. But Rhaenyra’s funds are far more finite. My father has enriched her coffers in part with taxes placed upon houses of the Crownlands. You are always seeking new allies, people you can turn from her side to yours, Corlys Velaryon, the Dragonseeds. Thus far, you have been unsuccessful.” Otto frowns, but he is listening. “I know there are families who have compelling grievances concerning my father’s taxes. Families who have become disenchanted with Rhaenyra’s leadership…or lack thereof, they might say. Rosby, Stokeworth, Cave, Langward, Bourney, Boggs, Hardy, Chyttering. Probably others as well now. They occupy a tactically significant position, being so near to Dragonstone and Driftmark. And I believe if you wrote to them, they would answer.”

“I’ll send ravens,” Otto says. He marvels at you, like a puzzlingly strange creature, a luminescent fang-toothed fish from the depths of the ocean, a direwolf from beyond the Wall. “You don’t want your side to win this war?”

“I want the killing to stop. For both sides.”

“Well, you won’t get that. The bitch will never surrender. That hope died with little Luke Strong.” Otto glowers bitterly at where Aemond stands in the shadowy corner, but he addresses you. “That is your impression as well? She was entertaining the possibility of a truce before he died at Storm’s End?”

You steal a glimpse of Aemond, and you are struck by an unexpected stab of sympathy for him, compassion that feels like a betrayal of your knowledge of the torture he had planned for you. But what is there to say but the truth? “Rhaenyra was considering it very seriously. She and Daemon quarreled over the subject.”

“Of course they did.” Otto looks at Criston, then back to Aemond. “When are you leaving?”

“Soon,” Criston answers for the prince regent. “Very soon.”

“Not soon enough,” Otto spits like venom, and everyone else averts their eyes.

“My lord,” Larys intercedes. “There is one more matter to discuss, and I believe it will be of great interest to His Grace the king.”

Aegon is struggling to concentrate. He blinks groggily at the Master of Whisperers, his brow creased with pain. You smooth his damp, white-blond hair back from his face, threading his braid through your fingertips; you refill his wine cup and give it to him. When Aegon lifts it to his lips, his hands shake so badly he spills scarlet beads like blood down his chin. He wipes them away with his sleeve. Grand Maester Orwyle offers him a small glass bottle of milk of the poppy, but Aegon refuses it.

“Is he alright?” Daeron mutters to you.

“He’s fine. He’s tired, that’s all.”

“Waste no time, Lord Larys,” Aegon says. “I fear Grandsire’s ire has exhausted me. He’s more ferocious than a dragon. We should find a saddle that fits, perhaps Criston could ride him to the Riverlands.”

“Keep guzzling wine, I’m sure that will improve your condition,” Otto bites back.

Larys continues: “It concerns Rook’s Rest.”

Now he has everyone’s attention. “What about Rook’s Rest?” Aegon says. Instinctively, he’s begun twisting the golden dragon ring on his left hand.

“I received word one hour ago that the Blacks have retaken it.”

“What?!” Otto shouts; the rest of the table is in uproar. Criston stands and goes to conspire with Aemond in the corner of the council chamber, urgent indecipherable whispers.

“Sunfyre,” Aegon says frantically. “I have to go to him, I have to get him out—”

“He is already gone, Your Grace,” Larys replies.

“Gone…?”

“Lord Walys Mooton went down to the beach to slay the dragon once his men had taken the castle. He was burned alive.”

“Perfect,” Daeron says, beaming radiantly.

“Lord Mooton’s men fled for their lives, and when they returned, Sunfyre had disappeared. He could not be found anywhere in the vicinity of Rook’s Rest. Moreover, his footprints in the sand stopped abruptly. Which means he must have departed—”

“Into the water…?” Tyland Lannister says, perplexed.

“No,” Larys corrects him. “Into the sky.”

“Sunfyre is flying again?” Aegon asks, his face childlike, astonished.

“That’s impossible,” Criston says. “His wing was broken, I saw it.”

Larys drums his fingers on the tabletop. “I cannot conceive of any other explanation.”

“Then he’ll find me.” Aegon smiles. Sweat snakes down his temples; his face is white, bloodless, barren like the moon. “When Sunfyre is ready, he’ll find me and we’ll be together again.”

“Oh, thank the gods,” Otto exhales. “The Old, the New, that ghastly Drowned one…” He waves a hand at you. “And do you have any to add, Lady Celtigar? Some crab deity your traitorous people worship?”

“I regret to disappoint you, my lord. To my knowledge we have none.”

“Three useable dragons,” Otto says, mostly to himself. “Three is good. With three, we have a chance. And if I can recruit Vermithor or Silverwing…”

“I should go with you when you and Criston march north,” Daeron tells Aemond.

“No,” Aemond returns immediately.

“If you’re going after Daemon, you could use me,” Daeron insists. “Tessarion and I can help.”

“You are needed in the Reach with Lord Ormund Hightower.”

“You just want him all to yourself,” Daeron realizes, exasperated. “You want to be able to say that you were the person to neutralize the Blacks’ greatest asset, that you won the war—!”

Criston says: “He’s not going on some suicide mission chasing Daemon and Caraxes all over the Riverlands. He’s staying with me and the army. He’s using Vhagar logically, responsibly. Right, Aemond?”

“Of course,” Aemond answers, entirely toneless.

Otto whirls to Aegon. “And when will you be able to fight again? Soon, I hope. Surely the culmination of your existence is not one single instance of utility before lapsing back into being some drunken, idiot degenerate.”

In reply, Aegon moans and crumples to the floor. Grand Maester Orwyle and the men of the Kingsguard rush to him, but Criston gets there first; when you cannot rouse the king, Criston throws him over one shoulder—increasingly difficult with each pound Aegon gains, softness and health that you consider a great victory—and ferries him back to bed. As you follow after them, you hesitate in the doorway of the council chamber. Now that Criston is gone, Otto has crossed the room and pinned Aemond to the wall. His large hands, heavy with rings, are pressed to Aemond’s chest; his face is snarling, wicked, callous.

“You have to fix this. You have to end it.”

“I know,” Aemond replies softly.

“Everything that’s happened is your fault.”

“I know,” Aemond says again, then rips free from Otto’s grasp and flees the room.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later, Criston leads his army out of the city. They will meet reinforcements on the road between the capital and the Riverlands. There is infantry on foot and cavalry on horses; above them in a blue sky cluttered with vast, cottony clouds are Aemond and Vhagar. As they head north, Daeron and Tessarion fly south towards the Reach to rejoin Ormund Hightower and his men. In Winterfell, Cregan Stark is receiving word of where (and with whom) his betrothed currently resides. At Harrenhal, Daemon and Nettles are kindling rumors like dry wood in a fire. On Dragonstone, Rhaenyra is nursing her rage and paranoia like a hungry child, like a wounded man who has milk of the poppy poured down his throat. And you remain static here in King’s Landing, anchored, steadfast, something immoveable like the ocean or the shore it meets.

You can see Aegon’s bedchamber windows from the beach. You keep glancing up at them, though you know he won’t be there; the sunlight is too harsh today, the potential damage to his skin too great. In a month, he may be able to venture outside as he used to. In two or three, he might be able to fight again. He might be able to kill more than just one errant Norcross boy who dared to touch you.

“Helaena wouldn’t come down to join us?” you ask Autumn. You’re walking with her in the surf, the hems of your held aloft so the froth of the waves can wash over your ankles. Perhaps ten yards away and out of earshot, Alicent is kneeling in the sand and playing with Jaehaera and Maelor. They are her great comfort now; they are not the only purpose she has left, but they are the kindest. Their tiny hands are preoccupied with building a sandcastle and adorning it with seashells, pebbles, shards of driftwood, strings of seaweed like green ribbons. You’ve started to notice how much Jaehaera resembles Aegon, his murky blue eyes and his high cheekbones and his gentleness that no one else seems to recognize. You’ve started to see him everywhere you look.

Autumn shrugs, her face apologetic. Her hair is more than just copper in the afternoon daylight; it is fire, it is blood. “I really tried. You know how she is.”

“I’ll visit her afterwards.”

“She unnerves me,” Autumn says, stroking her round belly and shuddering. She earns her keep here by helping to look after Helaena, Jaehaera, and Maelor. Aegon treats Autumn the same way he treats his wife and children, which is to say he generally ignores her; on the rare occasion he is subjected to her presence for more than a fleeting moment, he becomes uneasy, irritable. Autumn does not appear to be offended. She says this is the best job she’s ever had. “She’s always muttering the strangest things. Caterpillars and crabs and dragons and only the gods know what else. Yesterday she told me not to dance with the half-year queen. What the fuck does that mean?”

“Helaena’s a bit different,” you admit.

“She’s inbred, that’s what she is. I can’t imagine what those kids are going to grow up to be like. A brother and sister for parents? It’s a wonder they don’t have feathers or tails.” Autumn taps the swell of her belly. “At least this one—if it’s a Targaryen after all—has had its bloodline thoroughly diluted.”

You watch her standing there in the fiery late-afternoon light, this body that has comforted, consoled, satisfied, suffered, known so many men. “What does it feel like?” you ask quietly.

“What? Being with child?”

“No, the…um…the act that led to it.”

“Oh, yes.” Autumn stretches with her hands on the small of her back and smiles vaguely, nostalgically. “That’s the strange thing. It can feel like heaven or hell or nothing at all. If the man knows what he’s doing, and cares enough to try, he can make it better for you.”

“Better how?”

She furrows her brow, shoots you a skeptical sideways glance. She is aware that you are inexperienced, but the extent of your blind spots continuously shock her. It occurs to you that perhaps naivety is a privilege; some cannot recall a time before they were acquainted with truths of the world that others consider forbidden. “You know. He’ll use his hands or his mouth to get you ready. Or better yet, both at once.”

“Ready,” you repeat, not understanding.

“Well, you see…” Autumn takes a moment to decide how best to explain. “Men change when they are aroused, yes? Women do the same. It takes longer, and it is not always so obvious. But it is vital. The more ready you are, the more comfortably he will fit inside you.”

“And what if he doesn’t get you ready? If he doesn’t have the skill, or he doesn’t believe it’s necessary, or he doesn’t even know that’s something women require?” Or he just wants to hurt you. He just wants to watch you bleed like something he goes into the woods to kill and gut and devour.

Autumn smirks cynically. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“The sizes involved. Some men are bigger than others, and women have different dimensions as well. Couples can be well-matched or not. Sometimes it isn’t too bad. Sometimes it feels like you’re being ripped apart. And that doesn’t necessarily stop after the first time either.”

“And you can’t say no.”

“You can say no all you want. But he doesn’t have to listen.”

You peer out over Blackwater Bay, sunbeams flashing on wave crests and gulls swooping in the reddening sky. But you don’t really see it. What you see are fingerprints of dirt or ash on your thighs, snow in your hair, books laden with dust, fur coats and evergreen trees, rust-stains of blood on bedsheets.

“I’ve heard that Lord Stark is a very large man,” Autumn nudges. She knows, everyone knows.

“He’s massive,” you say forlornly. “He’s taller than Aemond and twice as broad.”

“The king isn’t so big,” she says, pretending that the thought has just popped into her mind, as if she hasn’t noticed the way you and Aegon look at each other, speak to each other, find excuses to touch each other.

“No,” you agree in a whisper.

“And he’s not a brute. I can’t fairly speak to his skill, I never had him anywhere close to sober. But he has no appetite for women’s pain. That’s a valuable gem in a man, it’s like stumbling across a ruby or a pearl.”

You nod; but you don’t want to think about Autumn lying with Aegon. You don’t want to think about the child they might share. In a world so dark, it seems cruel to begrudge people creating life where none existed before. But when you picture Aegon touching someone else, that darkness seeps in through your skin like rain soaks the earth and can’t find its way out. “We’re going to the library together tomorrow, aren’t we?”

Autumn groans. “Did I agree to that? I don’t believe I did.”

She did not, this is true; you badgered, she deflected. “You’ll enjoy it.”

“I am illiterate.”

“I told you. I’ll teach you how to read.”

“Why would I want to stare at ink marks in a book all day when I could be outside in the sunshine listening to the ocean and herding inbred little freaks like sheep?”

“Because books can take you anywhere,” you say.

“I like where I am. I’ve never seen anyplace better.”

“Okay, Autumn,” you concede, smiling. “I’ll ask again tomorrow. Hopefully you’ll change your mind.”

“Say hello to Helaena for me,” she says, meandering back towards Alicent and the children. Her footprints in the sand are erased when the gurgling waves roll over them. “Maybe one of those fancy books can help you translate lunacy into the Common Tongue.”

Upstairs in her bedchamber, Helaena is standing in front of an open window. It doesn’t offer a view of the ocean; it is positioned over a courtyard of sandstone and chatting courtiers. Helaena does not seem to hear them. She gazes out into the sunset, celestial rage on her impassive face.

“He’s leaving soon,” she says, not turning to look at you.

“Who, Helaena? Aemond? He left days ago. He’s already gone, he’s on his way to the Riverlands. But he’ll be back soon.” You don’t know if that’s true—it probably isn’t, in fact—but you’re certain that Helaena misses him. Her children do too; he is more of a father to them than Aegon has ever been, not in body but in soul.

She only repeats: “He’s leaving soon.”

“Helaena, what—?”

“He’ll leave you. Then you’ll leave him. He’ll make you.”

At last, and very slowly, she revolves like the stripe of shadow across a sundial. In her cupped palms is a butterfly, shimmering gold wings and spiderlike black legs. It takes flight, flutters aimlessly through the vermillion air, escapes out the open window.

~~~~~~~~~~

A peculiar twist of fate: his palm on your forehead, his whispers through your hair. Now he is the one who has stolen into your bed when the moon and stars hang high in the darkness outside. There is a noise somewhere beyond him, disembodied and hazy, that reminds you of torrential rain: omnipresent, thunderous.

“Angel,” Aegon is saying. “Wake up. Please wake up. I have to go.”

Go? Go where? You murmur, still half-asleep: “You can’t leave.” He isn’t strong enough yet. He can’t fight, he can’t run.

“I have to. They’re here.”

“Who…?”

The answer comes from the sounds that you are only now awake enough to understand: screaming, pounding boots, slamming doors, the ravenous crackling of fire, the shrieking of dragons. You have learned all of their unearthly voices. That’s not Vhagar or Tessarion or Sunfyre or Dreamfyre… It flashes by your windows, a comet of gold and flames.

You bolt out of bed. “Rhaenyra—?!”

“Rhaenyra, Syrax, Daemon, Caraxes.”

Daemon shouldn’t be here. He should be losing battles to Aemond and Criston. “But he’s at Harrenhal!”

“Not anymore.” Aegon takes your hand and pulls you out into the hallway, the hem of your nightgown billowing around your legs, his short silver hair flying behind him. There are servants and guards rushing by you, weeping, shouting, searching for places to hide. Grand Maester Orwyle ambles towards the rookery to send out ravens. Several rooms away, you can hear Helaena wailing and Autumn trying to soothe her. Larys Strong intercepts Aegon and gives him a hooded cloak; Aegon yanks it over his bare, mutilated chest, whimpering as the rapid movement strains the red-and-ivory disarray of scar tissue that used to be his skin. “You have everything?” he asks Larys hoarsely. You notice now that the Master of Whisperers has a satchel slung over one shoulder.

“Yes, Your Grace. Milk of the poppy, rose oil, the crown.”

“Wine?”

Larys produces a bottle. Aegon gulps down half of it, then passes the rest to you. You hesitate before finishing the wine, red like the sigil of House Celtigar, like fire, like blood. “They are closing all roads out of the city,” Larys tells Aegon, speaking swiftly. “King’s Landing will be taken. We will surrender. We cannot fight a dragon, let alone two.”

“Aemond and Criston—?”

“Daemon must have outflanked them.”

Aegon grabs your hand again and does not let go as he trails Larys through corridors and down claustrophobically tight spiral staircases. “The roads are blocked,” Aegon explains to you breathlessly. “But there are secret passageways beneath the castle. I know them. Larys knows them. Daemon probably knows them too, but he has other places to be.”

And through a window of a staircase, you see him: Caraxes spiraled around the apex of the Tower of the Hand, screaming fire into the sky before descending the length of the tower towards the hoards of hysterical courtiers fleeing below, his claws jostling loose bricks that rain down on them.

The bottom of the stairwell opens up into a large, dusty, dirt-floored chamber with stone tunnels leading in every direction like spokes of a wheel. Alicent is there, sobbing wildly, and so is Otto. Otto is telling Jaehaera that she must be a brave little girl and go with Sir Willis Fell. Alicent is giving little Maelor over to Sir Rickard Thorne, your once-alleged-kinfolk. The child is panicked and crying, flushed face and white hair. Aegon glances at the scene and then keeps moving, towing you along with him.

“Princess Jaehaera will go to Storm’s End,” Larys says. “Prince Maelor will go to Oldtown. They face execution if they stay. We must risk smuggling them out of the city.”

“What about Aegon?” you ask as the three of you hasten into a corridor thick with cobwebs and illuminated by torchlight. The stone ceiling is arched and perhaps seven feet tall; faintly, you can still hear the muffled turmoil of King’s Landing falling to Rhaenyra and Daemon.

“I’m going Dragonstone.” And it does not elude you that he didn’t say we. “If Rhaenyra is here, that likely means Dragonstone is vacant. I will go to the Crownlands families that you believe to be willing to betray her and beg them for support. I will take Dragonstone and prepare a counterassault from there. Hopefully Sunfyre will find me. Hopefully I’m not killed on the way.”

“Okay,” you say. “I’m going too.”

“You’re staying in King’s Landing.”

“No.” You stop dead, wrenching your hand out of Aegon’s. “No, what if you get hurt, or sick, or what if you get really bad again—?!”

“Listen!” he shouts with dire intensity, his eyes wide and pleading in the torchlight. “I can’t protect you. I can’t even protect myself. There could be bandits on the road, there could be Black soldiers, there could be animals, there could be fucking anything. I can’t take you with me. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get to Dragonstone. But I know if I stay here Rhaenyra will murder me. I don’t have a choice. I have one option, and it’s not good. But you’ll be safe in King’s Landing.”

“Aegon, no—”

“The Blacks don’t think you’re here by choice. They think I’ve imprisoned you. Tell them that’s what happened and they will welcome you back. Your family will protect you.”

“Aegon, please don’t—”

His palm on your cheek, his braid coming unraveled in his hair. “You will wait out the war with them. And when it’s over I’ll find you.” Tears glistening in his eyes, his voice going soft and tender. “If I’m still alive, I’ll find you. I swear to all the gods I will.”

He’s leaving. He’s really leaving. “What can I do?” you ask, your words strangled; your throat is burning, your eyes wet. “What can I do to help you?”

And you expect him to say things you already know: Don’t tell anyone where I’ve gone. Don’t tell anyone what you’ve heard in the Greens’ council meetings. Instead, Aegon grins as he says: “Try to get one of your three superfluous sisters to seduce Cregan Stark.”

You laugh, the sound echoing off ancient, filthy stones.

“My mother and Otto are waiting for you. You will be with them when they are taken to Rhaenyra. They are high-ranking prisoners of war, they will be spared the brutality of the Black soldiers and so will you. They will corroborate that you were my captive.”

“I understand.”

“I have to go now,” Aegon says like an apology, swiping tears from your face with his thumbs. He breaks away from you and follows Larys Strong down the tunnel. They are shadows under the torchlight, cloaks and whispers.

“Aegon,” you call after him, and he stops. I never told you what I wanted. I never told you what I feel for you. “What if I never see you again?”

You don’t know what you want him to do or say. There’s nothing that could make this right. But he soars back to you, takes you roughly and desperately, buries his hands in your hair and kisses you deeply, tasting like wine and heat and the smoke filling the world outside. He means for it to be quick, but he can’t stop. His tongue darts between your lips, his hips press to yours, you arch into him wanting more, infinitely more.

What was I so afraid of? you think dizzily. How could I be afraid of anything with him?

“Your Grace,” Larys appeals regretfully. “Please. We don’t have much time.”

Aegon twists off his dragon ring—gold wings, jade eyes—and slips it onto your left hand. And you’re still staring down at it, mystified, as Aegon disentangles himself from you and vanishes into the darkness.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x y/n #aegon x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii fic #aegon ii x reader #aegon targaryen ii x you #aegon targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen x reader

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 2 months

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04/18/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Rhys / Bears; LindsCantrell/Ringasunn; Vico Ortiz; Gypsy Taylor; Nathan Foad; OFMD Remaining Billboard; Fan Spotlight: PatchworkPirateBear and Cast Cards; Fuck David Zaslav; Love Notes; Today's Taika/Daily Darby

= Rhysie Darby =

Hey all! As you've probably heard, our beloved Captain will be hosting the Big Bear Week this year! Check out more on Deadline.com Img Src: Rhys' IG Stories

= Linds Cantrell / Ringasunn =

Our lovely crewmate @/ringasunn was given some awesome stills by Lindsey Cantrell our resident ofmd set director, and they were kind enough to share them with all of us! Thanks @/ringasunn! Src: Ringasunn's Twitter

= Gypsy Taylor =

Our favorite costume designer Gypsy shared some unseen pictures of Wee John's socks!! Src: Gypsy's IG

= Vico Ortiz =

Vico giving a shoutout for all the animation they've gotten to do since the lockdown!

Src: Vico's IG

== Nathan Foad ==

More BTS and images of Nathan with Love's Labour's Lost!

Img Src: Nathan's IG

== Our Boys Still Up ==

Thanks @ourflagmeansfanfiction on IG for keeping an eye on our boys on that billboard! Did Max maybe just forget it was there and are still paying for it?

Img Src: Our Flag Means Fanfiction IG

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Patchwork Piratebear =

@saveofmdcrewmates is highlighting our sweet crewmate @patchworkpiratebear! They are a pillar of kindness and are always sharing their artwork and edits to be shared in support of the campaign! Feel free to take a load off and do some coloring! There's lots more on their socials! SaveOFMD Posts: Tumblr, Twitter, IG PatchWorkPirateBear's Socials: Tumblr: @patchworkpiratebear , IG, Twitter

= Cast Cards =

Always happy to see another Cast Card from the lovely @melvisik! Today's is "Mark Prendergast, the court scribe who penned the edict leading to Ed and Stede’s Act of Grace." Img Src: @melvisik Twitter

== Fuck David Zaslav ==

Hey! Looks like there are lots of people pissed at David Zaslav! Sesame Street is going on Strike!

Article Link

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies! This one's late, sorry about that, I fell asleep again. Today I wanted to send a reminder that you get to create your own space. You get to choose who's in your crew, and your safe space ship. If you don't feel comfortable, because someone is making you feel that way, you don't have to interact with them. I know it's hard, I know that I often suffer from justice fatigue (and I want so badly to explain my point of view), but it really is important to give yourself some space from the things in this world that are heavier. It doesn't mean you can't come back to them, or you shouldn't care, but remember to give yourself a break.

Tumblr, Twitter, those places have "safety" measures in place through blocking, ignoring certain words, etc to help with this kind of thing, so if you need a break from discussions or politics, or whatever, please feel free to use them. You deserve some joy and rest too. Tumblr is my happy place personally, I love coming here and seeing all the cool meta, fanart, fics, etc, but there have been times where I've felt like I just can't deal with the heavier stuff. It's okay not to interact with it if it's bothering you. It's okay to block people who are attacking you. It's okay to ask for support with it too. I love that there's a way to block anon asks now (not just turning them off, but you can block them last time I looked).

A lot of our lives we're told that we don't have a lot of control, but one thing about these kinds of spaces is, we do get to have some semblance of control on what we see and who we interact with, and there's no shame in practicing self care.

Anyway lovelies, take care of yourselves, we love you and we want you to be okay <3

Some other little things that helped me today:

TinyBuddhaOfficial IG

Adorable Raccoon Memes IG

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

Today's Theme is STAAAAAAAAAAAAAHP, How very dare you look that good.

Gifs courtesy of @kiwistede and @darkinerry

#daily ofmd recap #daily ofmd recaps #ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #ofmd #our flag means death #save ofmd #rhys darby #taika waititi #linds cantrell #nathan foad #vico ortiz #gypsy taylor #ofmd bts s2 #ofmd bts

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nacricissa · 3 months

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9 people you want to know better

Huge thanks to @squarebracket-trick for tagging me with only small amounts of sarcasm per my request to be included in the fun!

Currently Reading: The Code Breaker: Jennifer Doudna, Gene Editing and the Future of the Human Race, by Walter Isaacson. I think this is the same book I was reading the last time I was tagged in this game. I read nonfiction slowly.

Last song I listened to: Spotify seems to believe it was The Chain by Fleetwood Mac and I have no evidence to contradict that.

Currently Watching: I am on Season 8 of Smallville, which I have been thoroughly enjoying. It is very strange to watch TV from that era though, because the way computers are treated is truly hilariously wrong.

Current Fic I'm reading: I love that this implies I could stop reading in the middle of a fic. I woke up at 1:30 pm today because last night I finished reading Light As A Feather (Heavy As The Burden I Carry) by @havenoffandoms and @creativwit. It's heavy reading (ED TW), but masterfully done.

Current Obsession: I have made an infinite mana deck in standard (uh I play Magic: The Gathering, if you don't, apologies for the seemingly random set of words I'm about to spew). It's an Agatha's Soul Cauldron deck (Sleep-cursed faerie+ Kami of Whispered Hopes) though it's easier to assemble the win using Patchwork Crawler, even though it's more mana intensive because then you can search all the parts with Fauna Shaman. The win is with Triskadecaphile, either on board drawing to the alternate win con, or if you have an untappable Fauna Shaman, you can search for Ulvenwald Oddity with the first creature you draw, then transform it to give everything haste and win with combat damage on the spot. The interaction package is mostly creatures because Fauna Shaman, Malevolent Hermit, Tishana's Tidebinder and Colossal Skyturtle. Tishana's is especially useful when trying to win when an opponent has Sheoldred on board, you can Fauna Shaman it up if you draw a creature before you run out of life.

Favourite Colour: Lavender and Indigo. Really, the colour scheme of my pfp is my favourite colours, I had it comissioned for a reason.

Spicy, Sweet, Savory or Salty: Big fan of the savory.

Relationship Status: Not really looking for romance, in QPR with best friend.

Last thing I googled: Well now it's the fic I read last night cause I wanted to find the link, uh before that? I was trying to find this post, as if search is an effective way to locate things you're looking for on Tumblr.

Song stuck in my head: Well now it's Mr Blue Sky by Electric Light Orchestra because while looking for the post to link for the last question I saw a post that contained the lyrics... Before that probably John Williams is the Man.

Favourite Food: It's a one-pan thing with chicken, broccoli, red peppers, minute rice and a sauce made of brocoli cheese soup and chicken broth. It takes maybe fifteen minutes to cook after you've cut everything up, it's good hot or cold, it reheats well, truly a masterful thing and I only have to wash one pan when I'm done!

Dream Trip: I intend to tour Cascadia with my best friend. We might even go to visit the Quileute reserve (that beach looks great) give them the tourism bucks they deserve for having their legends taxidermized like that.

Tagging @magic-is-something-we-create, @lesorciercanadien, @neural-cactus-is-lonely, @bargainbincheese, @wonder-stuck, @chauceryfairytales, @a-had-matter, @threebooksoneplot and @mk-writes-stuff if you'd care to answer some or all of these questions about your fine selves.

#tag game #9 people you want to know better

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ejoygvf · 1 year

Text

Lost in Fleet Part II

Your first time seeing the band at Wembley Arena, London and of course… you get lost backstage. What’s the worst that could happen?

My first ever fic, please be kind. This is a mini Sam three parter! Enjoy 🤍

Content Warnings: Sexy talk, alcohol, fluff💕

Pairing: Sam Kiszka/Female Reader

Word Count: 2K

_______________________

You had barely managed to get a word in edgeways, on the way to whichever bar you were going to. Not that you cared, of course. You were in a minivan with your favourite band, so felt overwhelmed enough already. Not having to concentrate on trying to hold a conversation was quite pleasant as you tried to take this all in, knowing how many fans out there would kill to be in your position right now.

You all bundled out the car towards a very quiet looking bar. Laughter, singing and conversation flowing between the six of you during the short walk from the car to the bar doors.

All the boys had changed into more casual attire now, rhinestones and feather boas were nowhere in sight. The bar was relatively busy and you had all piled into a corner sofa with a table in front of it. The room was dimly lit, a burgundy hue echoed round it. Each table with its own empty wine bottle, a melting red candle in each one, different coloured wax spilling over the necks of every bottle. Oak furniture, everywhere. Including the bar itself, the beams on the ceiling and all the tables and chairs. Every seat was upholstered with a deep red leather, a few cracks and holes scattered over the material, through many years of wear, tear and spilt pints. It smelt like stale ale, myrrh and tonka and people were mostly sat up at the bar, a few of the other tables taken up by chattering friends and couples. The thing that really drew your attention in were all of the drink coasters plastered on the wall above the bar. Different logos, shapes, colours and ale names strewn across each one. Like a patchwork, almost.

Danny, being the mother of the group had gone to the bar to get the first round. Six brightly coloured ales and what looked like a shot of fireball for everyone. “Bajabule!” Josh shouted out, as you all slammed your shots down. A jukebox was playing some cheesy 80s disco in the corner and you kept quiet, taking everything in. You were listening as Danny & Sammy were playfully arguing over who came in to early during Age of Machine, when you had felt his hand find your thigh. Sammy made sure to sit next to you round the sofa. Pressing his leg into yours throughout the evening. Now, he had his fingers gently tracing shapes over your thigh. You felt the tidal wave in your lower abdomen again. Feeling brave, you crept your hand forward, finding Sammy’s and started intertwining your fingers with his, until you were kind of holding hands but also fiddling with eachothers fingers. It wasn’t a huge amount of contact, but it was that sort of touch where your whole body felt all warm and tingly. The sexual tension was very much there and you’d try and catch glimpses of one another whenever you had the chance.

Jita had just come back from the bathroom and lent down to whisper into Jakes ear. She caught your eye and pointed to her stomach “girl problems, so much pain.” She mouthed your way and you gave her a sympathetic smile and signalled an air hug, her way. You were sat in the corner of the sofa, trapped between the oldest and youngest of the Kiszka brothers. “Alrighty brothers, and lovely y/n.” Jake nodded towards you with a wink. “We’re gonna head back to the hotel and get some rest. See you in the morning. Sammy, don’t be fucking late, you nearly sent Josh into cardiac arrest this morning. He genuinely thought you were missing for a good two hours.” Sam snarled at him, half jokingly. Jake stood up grabbing Jitas waist, kissing her forehead and rubbing circles into the small of her back. “Let’s get you to bed Jitabug. So nice to meet you y/n, I have a feeling we’ll be seeing you again very soon.” He smiled, almost proudly to himself and Jita gave you all a defeated smile and wave before they turned and left through the glass stained doors.

“Then there were four, shot anyone?” You shocked everyone with your boldness. Danny grinned your way “Ahhh fuck it, ONE more and then I’m headed out too. I’m so beat and that jet lag is really kicking in now.” He stood up, slapping his hands against his thighs before walking towards the bar. You hadn’t even noticed that your hand was still tangled up with Sammys, you turned to look at him and he looked straight at your lips, before shifting his focus down to your hand. He had his on top of yours, so had more control. He looked back up at you, knowing you were watching him before dragging your hand along with his, further up your thigh until it was inches away from your centre. The wetness started again, uncontrollably this time, he was so close to being there. You were almost squirming in your seat and you could see the pulse coming from between his legs, through the denim of his skinny jeans.

Thank fuck Josh had been too distracted on his phone to notice. Admiring photos and videos fans had been posting. As always, the biggest smile slapped across his face. Danny had made his way back with four shots and you all knocked them back pretty much instantly. He wasn’t joking about leaving quickly when he said about having one more shot. He was already standing up, shrugging his jacket on and getting ready to leave, as you’d just about shaken the burning sensation of whisky down your throat. “See ya guys, Sammy… seriously don’t be late.” “Yeah, I know, I know. Get off my ass all of you.” He slumped his shoulders forward, not moving his hand from yours.

“y/n, you’re a sweetheart. You fit right in with us and like Jake said, I’m sure we’ll be seeing you again soon.” He blew you a kiss and headed out. Leaving just three of you.

A bell from behind the bar rang loudly and the short, chubby man shouted “20 minutes until close, last orders now.” The three of you had been chatting absolute bullshit at this point. Mainly listening to Josh droning on about Kubrick and how he can’t believe how often people mix up Space Odyssey and Space Jam. “One for the road my good friends?” He smiled at you both, having shifted himself to sit on the stool on the other side of the table so you could all see each other better. “Sure, let’s do it.” You leaned forward fist bumping him. Something the two of you had started doing earlier in the night, after either of you said something bantery to one another. “Yeah, I’ll do one more too.” Sammy chimed in. “Surprise me. Her too.” He nodded over at you. Realising how rude he must have sounded, he quickly corrected himself “y/n I mean, surprise us both with whatever drinks you want. Our beverage fate lies in your hands, good sir.” He bowed his head toward Josh before laughing at himself. As soon as Josh’s back was turned and he was talking to the man behind the bar, Sammys head had snapped towards you.

His free hand, that wasn’t interlocked with your fingers and picking at the hem of your dress had snaked it’s way up to your face and he was stroking your cheek with his thumb. He was burning holes into your eyes with how intense his stare was. “Fuck precious, I have been aching all night. My dick is so, so hard for you. What are you doing to me young, y/n? You know, it normally takes a special kinda gal to get me so worked up. I’d take you on this table right now if I could.” The grip he had on your face tightened and he sunk his lips into yours, delicately sliding his tongue over your top lip. You were the first to pull back “I bet you say that to all the girls you fuck, don’t you?” You tried to play off the question, jokingly but there was a slight seriousness behind it that you were hoping you’d manage to mask through your giggle. His face fell slightly, looking genuinely offended. He gave a short laugh “See, precious… that’s where you’ve got me all wrong. Maybe from the ages of nineteen to twenty one. I was a whore and fucked anything I could, but that’s just because we were starting to get big and I’d never experienced so many women throwing themselves at me.” He swallowed, coming across almost bashful at his past sex life. “Then I met Hannah and well… That ended in an absolute fucking train wreck. I did love her, don’t get me wrong but since her… I don’t- well, I don’t just fuck anybody. I’m very, let’s say… selective and… picky. Yeah, selective and picky are the words I’d use. So no, I don’t say those things to all the girls I fuck, because I don’t fuck many and I don’t have the desire to fuck many. Just the ones that make a great first impression on me.”

You had him all wrong. One of the reasons you’d always been more so in Josh & Jakes lane is because of all the rumours you’d heard about Sammy, always reading about him being a man whore and a flirt, it put you off. Unlike Josh who came across as confident in interviews, Sammy came across cocky and you just weren’t into it. But hearing him now, opening up and being vulnerable, letting you in so deeply,

despite the fact you’d only properly known him about five hours, had totally changed your mind. Before you could say anything Josh had come back with three pints of ale. “That’s one of my points, right there!! I was talking about Space Odyssey and the bar guy was like “Ahh yeah, I love basketball and Looney Toons. What a great one that was…” I had to walk away before I threw hands. It’s blasphemy!!” He was talking so animatedly, flailing his hands about and laughing at himself.

You’d all knocked back your last drink of the night relatively quickly. You stood up to go, still holding Sammys hand and as he stood up as well, Joshs eyes darted straight down to where your hands met. You both drew your them back to your own bodies as soon as you realised he was starting. Standing up, Josh said through his cheesy grin “Oh, don’t stop the blossoming romance on my behalf. I’ll maybe get a separate taxi back to the hotel.” Sammy looked over at you before turning his attention back towards Josh… “Alright brother, see you in the morning and NO, I won’t be late, promise.” “You took the words right out of my mouth, Sammy. Because if you’re late by even thirty seconds, I’ll ask y/n to replace you in the band.” Josh reached over the table to lightly punch your arm before awkwardly contorting his body to pull you into an over the table cuddle. “Wonderfully happy to make a friend out of you, y/n and quoting the last two brothers… I KNOW we’ll be seeing you very soon.” He shot Sam a wink and a click of the teeth before turning on his heels and out the door.

#sam kiszka #sam kiszka gvf #gvf smut #gvf fic #greta van smut #josh kiszka #jake kiszka #danny wagner

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gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

Text

Sunshine

Ron Weasley x Reader

Summary: After a long night, Ron surprises you the following morning with a sweet gesture.

Warnings: stress, mentions of injury, mentions of food, fluff, kissing

Word Count: 2.1k

“Have I told you that I love you today?”

“I fixed you breakfast. I know it’s just a bowl of cereal, but it’s the only thing I can’t burn.”

A/N: This is my fic for @writeroutoftime 1k writing challenge! The prompts I used above are bolded and italicized in the fic. Congratulations again, Rita, I hope you enjoy my lovely!!

(gif found on pinterest, credits to the maker)

The day began almost too soon, faint streams of sunlight peeking through the sheer curtains only to be stolen temporarily by the periodic clouds you presumed. It felt as though you had just slipped into bed, as if it was just mere seconds ago that the room was dimly lit with the moonlight and you had tucked yourself against the love of your life. It had been an extraordinarily late shift at St. Mungo’s, patient after patient walking through the door just waiting to be healed whether their injuries were significant or superficial. You were exhausted by the very end of it and in desperate need of sleep. But dawn had rolled around without a pause, and very much to your dismay.

Upon closer inspection, you frown at the empty space next to you, breathing out a sigh as you rubbed your tired eyes once more. It had been far too quiet, you knew it the moment you heard the ticking of the clock on the dresser rather than the usual snoring that was almost always muffled into your neck. You weren’t exactly thrilled about the very idea of getting out of bed, but the thought of getting any more sleep without your beau to curl into simply wasn’t feasible. So, with another huff, you left the warmth of the blankets and sheets and padded your way downstairs in search of him.

The house had been comfortingly quiet, an aura that only ever seemed to exist at that hour no matter where you were. The mismatched clocks dotting along the walls and mantle chimed once to signal it’d been half past eight, and the scent of your sweet candles wafted to you once you made it to the living room. It was clear that it’d rain sometime that day, the puffy gray clouds increasingly covering the blue sky as the breeze blew. The patchwork blankets were sprawled across the couch surely in preparation for a day spent doing very little, and you were more than fine with being unproductive.

The familiar screech of your teapot had grabbed your attention, not to mention the potent smell of coffee being brewed and you immediately found yourself following it.

A smile pulled at your lips when you walk in the kitchen, your heart fluttering in your chest at the sight of the unruly ginger bedhead. His back had been to you as he fixed his morning coffee, grabbing his favorite mug from the sage colored cabinets. Ron may have been more of a coffee person over tea sometimes, though really it’d always been more sugar and cream than anything. He even went so far as to slip in a few pieces of chocolate to melt into his drink.

He heard your footfalls, no matter how light they may have been and he was quick to turn around. The softest of smiles graces his lips as he looks at you, a blush soon to follow at the sight of his old quidditch sweater hanging from your shoulders in tattered ruffles of yellow and maroon. It was something you wordlessly decided to claim as your own, and he hadn’t minded it in the slightest. He’d felt a swell of pride in his chest whenever you wore it, but mostly he was just enamored by you.

“Hey,” He says, setting his mug down and crossing the kitchen in a few strides. His arms were quick to envelop you in his embrace, his lips finding yours in an instant. “‘Morning, sunshine.”

“Morning,” you whisper tiredly with a hum, your arms wrapping around his neck as your sleepy smile widens at the nickname. “Missed you.”

He laughed softly, his breath fanning against your lips. It wasn’t a laugh of mocking, but rather one of giddiness upon the fact that you had missed him. A deeper blush stained his freckled cheeks and he hid it with another kiss.

“Sorry to have left you alone,” he murmurs, “but I fixed you breakfast. I know it’s just a bowl of cereal, but it’s the only thing I can’t burn. It’s not the best but I know you got in late last night and I wanted to surprise you.”

He laughs timidly at his rambling, scratching the back of his neck in shy embarrassment and hopes that you’d like it. When you peer around his shoulder you spot a heaping bowl of cereal on the small kitchen table, a bit of milk puddled on the surface and a laugh leaves your lips. Your heart leaps in your chest at just how thoughtful he always is, and you were quite sure your beaming was more than obvious when you turned back to look at him.

“It’s perfect, Ron,” you murmur, hugging around his neck before leaning on your toes and pressing a grateful kiss to his flushed cheek. “I love you.”

He was quick to join you at the table, his hands wrapped around his coffee mug as he yawned sleepily. He looked impossibly cute as he kept close to the steaming mug, basking in the warmth of it as he rests his chin in his palm. His hair dipped in his eyes and no matter how often he swiped it away, it stubbornly fell right back into place to tangle with his lashes. Perhaps the cutest of all was the smile adorning his lips upon looking at you, as if you had been the only thing in the world of importance.

To him, you very much were. To be so cliche he felt you were nothing short of sunshine, always lighting up anything and everything that had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. The moment he used the nickname it just stuck, for it was very true, so how couldn’t he not?

“How was work?” He asks into his mug, a bit of the frothy cream left behind on his upper lip.

“It was as busy as always,” you sigh tiredly, swiping your thumb over his lip with a small laugh. “Malfoy and I had our hands full when a bunch of quidditch players came in.”

He snorts at that, brushing the hair out of his eyes once more. “That bad, huh?”

You nod with a mouthful, stirring your spoon in your bowl as a grin he recognizes all too well works its way onto your lips. “I was relieved when I saw you hadn’t been amongst them, you’ve really got to be more careful when you play, Ron. That one ti—”

His groan effectively cuts you off as he rubs his face. “Darling, that was one time!”

“Draco had to give you eleven stitches, Ronald. You were seething at him the entire time.” You laugh at the memory, at the heat so clearly burning crimson in his cheeks at the time. Though he bit his tongue when he’d seen just how different the blonde had been. “You’re clumsy and you know it, love.”

He grumbled into his drink in disagreement but you hadn’t missed the smile tugging at his lips. You giggle as you shake your head, and he nudged your foot with his under the table in further disapproval.

Conversation had been minimal after that, a comfortable silence falling over you as you ate your breakfast and he drank his coffee. The rain you’d suspected had been trickling down the windows then, the weather making it all the more reason to stay tucked away in each other’s arms for the entirety of the day. Not that you needed a reason to, of course. There were no plans pressing on either of you on your days off, and with work keeping you from spending any quality time together it became a silent agreement that you’d take advantage of the opportunity.

The absence in conversation was filled with fleeting gazes and brushes of fingertips. Crinkling of the morning paper and laughter as he stole a few bites of your cereal. It was filled with longer, more fond stares and rosy cheeks as he tried to bring himself to stop gawking like the lovestruck fool he very well knew he was. It was a title Harry had given him, one that the entirety of his family was in agreement with. He happily accepted it, he was madly in love with you since he was seventeen and he feels it’ll never falter, and he’s more than fine with that very fact.

When you glance over the table at him he’s got a smile on his lips as he looks out the window. You knew he’d been up to something. “What?”

You raise a brow at him and he gets up from the table, pressing a kiss to the top of your head in a wordless response. With a sigh, you watched as he disappeared out of the back patio door with eagerness and determination, and you laughed into your mug as you sipped at the rest of your tea.

You grab your empty bowl and walk over to the sink to rinse it out along with his mug, spotting the chocolate at the very bottom that hadn’t melted into his drink fully. He had the biggest sweet tooth of anyone you’d ever known, and you knew he’d surely fall asleep in your arms by the afternoon.

Moments later he returned with a lopsided grin, the now drizzling rain dampening his hair and beading across his skin. A bunch of freshly picked wildflowers were clutched in his hand, the purple and blue petals dripping with the morning rain. Your cheeks reddened at the action as you dry your hands on a nearby towel, taking the delicate flowers from his own.

“Breakfast and flowers?” You grin, your fingertips brushing over the dampened petals. The warmth filling your chest was one only Ron Weasley could manage, for he’d been the sweetest man you’d ever known. No matter how simple the gestures or gifts were, they meant everything to you all the same. “Have I told you that I love you today?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a teasing smile, his arms enveloping you in an embrace. “You may have mentioned it once, I believe.”

You tipped your head back as you laughed at his jesting, more so when you felt his lips press to the underside of your jaw. He’s very well aware of the way it makes you squirm and he will never hesitate to do so just to hear you laugh. His own giggles vibrate against your skin, his lips meeting yours in the most tender of kisses. The joined laughter settles a fraction as your hand cradles his cheek. The taste of chocolate in his kiss is something you don’t miss, the warmth of his lips setting your skin ablaze with every movement.

“I love you,” you say softly once more in the close proximity, his smile bright as you pull away to look at him.

You pluck a flower from the bunch in your hand, tucking it behind his ear. The soft blue blossom poked out beneath the ruffles of red hair, and you were sure you’d never seen a sight more adorable in your life. He takes them from your hand and sets them down on the counter, spinning back to face you and take your hand in his own.

“Ron Weasley, are we going to slow dance?” You ask, laughing softly as you grin up at him. He simply nods with a fond smile.

He pulls you close as he holds your joined hands up, his forehead resting on yours as you sway about the cozy kitchen. His hair tickled your skin and you teased him for his coffee breath, and he was quick to kiss you all the more at your playful teasing.

After a while you tuck your face into the crook of his neck, your lips ghosting over his skin in a way that caused a heat to flood his cheeks and a giddy smile to grace his lips. The rain was persistent, heavily pattering against the cozy little house you shared as you danced around the kitchen. His hand was warm in your own as he squeezed you softly, basking in the very way you were perfectly content in his arms, content to be with him. You may have stepped on his toes every now and then as you sway, but he couldn’t find it in him to care about such things.

“I love you,” he whispered, his words unwavering as he kissed the top of your head. You bring yourself to lift your head, your noses brushing as you share your moment of bliss in the quiet of your kitchen. His lips press over yours in a whisper of a kiss, “I love you.”

Amidst all the rain in the early morning hours, all Ron would ever need was you. For you were his sunshine.

—

Tags: @vogueweasley @theweasleysredhair @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @lupinsclassroom @harrysweasleys @dracosathenaeum @snitches-at-dawn @awritingtree

#woot1kchallenge #ron weasley one shot #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley #ron weasley x you #ron weasley fluff #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley fic #ron weasley headcanon #ron weasly imagine

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nanabbi · 4 years

Note

Hello! I love zisashi angst and I have at least 70 fics to rec! ... Would you like me to recommend them? 👀 I've been colecting them for over a year now

So, this person did DM me the recs but they didn’t want to be mentioned by name, so I’ll just thank them a lot for sharing their suggestions. They had also placed sweet little notes for all of them, I’ll include them, but I hold no authority of them. I’ll add some of my own insight if I have any.

Here is the list for me and all of you to check them out:

don't scream until the earth crumbles by rise_beyond_the_graveyard (serenlyall)

3K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Angst for Hizashi and Shouta. Mentions of torture, be careful with the tags]

If At First You Don't Succeed... by MarziPanda95

26K/Completed- !!! It Is completed! Yay, I’ll definitely read it at first chance. It is a Groundhog Day fic. [Their Note: A personal favorite that was completed very recently. Mentions of torture (mental and corporal) the tension in this fic is amazing! And its really well written]

Without You I Can't Breathe by morbidcorvids

2K/Oneshot- Major Character Death. Hizashi basically dies in Aizawa’s arms from what I saw. [Their Note: This one is... So good but omg it made me so sad ;;;; a great piece of angst!! Mind the tags before breaking your heart].

Hindsight Is 20/20 by Nartothelar

2K/Oneshot- Wait there’s fics of this AU!? Omg! I was wondering where I could get more insight about it and this fic is part of a series. Now tho 👀 [Their Note: Part of nartothelar's awesome mafia au! I love the angst in this one, and even comes with art! 💕💞💖💓 love it so much]

Resignation by OnAir

28K/Completed- [Their Note: THIS IS OMG SJDVBDD MY FAVE, I'VE READ IT LIKE 8383737721 TIMES, its a must! Read! Of! Hizashi! Angst! Pleaaaase! Do yourself a favor and read this masterpiece]

[More under Read More, because our provider was very generous with their suggestions]

Patchwork Family by bravobeavo

3K/Oneshot- [Their Note: This one is so cute! Hizashi angst with erasermic family fluff to warm your heart! Shinsou and Eri are so worried for their dad in this one 💕]

Consumption of the Heart and Lungs by YamiHeart

4K/Oneshot- [Their Note: I think you will like this one... Its a hanahaki!!!! And in japan with ninjas and samurais 💕💞💖 and an omg very good amazingly written hanahaki. It is part of a series though! So if you fall in love with it you can read the next one!]

White Chrysanthemums by LipstickVenom

9K/Oneshot- I see Major Character Death warning and Hurt no Comfort. I’ll approach with caution [Their Note: Ok hear me out, this one hurts! A lot, but its oh so amazing💕 fully recommend it!]

Paper Hearts by Xen_The_Protogen

2K/Oneshot- Major Character Death Warning [ Their Note: Super fun timeline to follow! Well... Not fun, this fic made me cry, but I loved how the story was told! Please, its a must read!]

Soul Bound by Ibelieveinahappilyeverafter

7K/Oneshot- It is written by Andy. I trust it. [Their Note: One of the best soulmate fanfiction out there, its not fully angst, but it is there in some parts! (USJ I see ya) this one is more like Hizashi and Shouta angst though].

you are my sunshine by chimera (emptyheadspace)

5K/Completed- Ha. Ha. I see the title and the MCD Warning... Someone here is not afraid of that warning [Their Note: I mean, the title already tells you that this sadder than mufasa's death. 5+1 type of fic (I love the format so I loved this one even more!)]

I'm Sorry, I'm Not Sorry by Tabs

1K/Oneshot- It does say happy ending tho [Their Note: And yis.... Short and sad, read it!]

Shout & Mute by ill go with that then (Linelenagain)

9K/Oneshot- Body swap, you have my curiosity and attention [Their Note: Ok this one is not angst angst, but is more like Aizawa finally realizing the hardships that Hizashi must have (and is going through) because of his quirk thanks to a bodyswap! :D (love this one aye)]

A Gift of Sunshine by Ibelieveinahappilyeverafter

35K/Completed- It’s Andy again! Hi sir, I’m a fan. The concept seems interesting [Their Note: Ok so... In this fic Hizashi is a sword and Aizawa attends UA with him (it? Lol) well, he is more like a soul in a sword, not the swor- meh, just read it. It has some heave angst in some chapters! And its not that long! Reallyyyy good fic]

More Than Just a Smile by ravyn_sinclair

7K/Oneshot- -heavy breathing- I see BAMF Hizashi in the tags. BAMF HIZASHI! [Their Note:This is a fic of Hizashi being underestimated and showing everyone that he has some brains/ knows how to be a hero. There is angst by the end of the fic~ this piece of writing is just- a masterpiece. Kudos to the writer!]

Improbable Botany 101 by Tierfal

46K/Complete- [Their Note: OKAY! A HANAHAKI THAT IS JUST 💕💞💖 its longish? Not that much, you'll finish it in an hour or so, but is just sooooo gooooooood! Amazing hanahaki angst! I love how they show us the feelings and thoughts of the characters].

6:15 by dadzawa_of_1a

3K/Oneshot- [Their Note: So great! I loved this one! And its very well written! Its a quick read so please just go go go go!].

I thought we'd last forever by orphan_account

1K/Oneshot- MCD Warning [Their Note: Great fic my dear! And very sad... Mind the tags :'"c]

Ice It by Say_Jay

3K/Oneshot- Oh! I’ve read this one! It’s so cute. I was looking for it when I was doing the Hizashi whump list, but I hadn’t bookmarked it! Now I have! Gosh I hate losing fics, thanks for bringing it over [Their Note: Its more like... Comfort after getting hurt? But meh, angst anyway sbdbjdbd However, I think that everyone in the erasermic fandom is familiar with this short masterpiece].

Dust in the Wind by d_lynx

Sleep and Sweet Tea by d_lynx

2K/Series- [Their Note: Ok this one is just pure angst. A very short concentrated bomb of angst. It does have a happy continuation though! So you can go and check that].

Guillotine by existentialrat

4K/Ongoing- !!! 👀 Do I have anything to do with the origin of this fic? I see the author’s note there. I’ll wait~ [Their Note: Hizashi is with hanahaki! Ohnooo! Dnjdbdj well well, this one is not finished, but there is one chapter left so... You can choose to either wait or just start reading it. Oboro lives in this one though!]

Honest with You by astrange_one

8K/Completed- [Their Note: Hizashi gets insecure after having an encounter with his past foster parents :c babyyyyy. He suffers so much mentally speaking in this one]

Needle-thin Tightrope by Dramaticdragon

2K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Another insecure Hizashi! This one is short but ohhh amazing!]

Lost and Found by TheWiseMansFear

16K/Ongoing- Last Update: April 2020 [Their Note: Hizashi is tortured but refuses to tell why! Its not finished! And the updates are slow, but is very good, read under your own risk].

Day 3: Unexpected/Revelation by presentedmic

2K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Great fic! Shouta tells Shinsou about the time he almost lost Hizashi! Cutecutecute and angsty!]

Desolate by maplebee

<1K/Oneshot- MCD [Their Note: A short very angsty fic... Almost made me cry, this one did].

With You by maplebee

<1K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Short and sad as well, this author is great with making you feel stuff in less than 1k].

Accidentally Forever by Arkham_Cat

1K/Oneshot- I skimmed through it, it seems mild with no Mature content [Their Note: Short Omegaverse, shows how Shouta accidentally marked Hizashi. Its angst? But not very heavy angst, soft angst? Dunno. And is short as well! So I would recommend it if u want a quick read!].

Sunshine Boy by MarziPanda95

40K/Completed- MarziPanda again! Hmmm 👀 [Their Note: We all know that Marzipanda95 is a goddess of Hizashi Angst, and this fic is one of her greatest masterpieces! Please! This is a must read!!! Recently completed].

Even As I'm Busted And Broken by Tippytap

<1K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Ok... Short but sad, Hizashi is finally overwhelmed. Mind the tags please]

(Don't Ever) Stop Talking by WritingStarsIntoConstellations

<1K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Aizawa messes up by using his quirk on Hizashi! They are teens in this one~]

Kintsugi (Broken & Fixed) by DarklingMoon

12K/Completed- [Their Note: Another 5+1 cause god knows I love them so much! Its a great fic filled with angssttttttt... Read it lol]

Lemon Boy by modernmint

<1K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Short! Focuses on the phobia that Hizashi has with bugs and the relationship of the boys! They are teens in here].

Five Times Present Mic Apologized (And One Time He Didn't Have To) by BurningTheSapphires (MyStShSh)

5K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Features villain present mic! Is not mostly angst but it has...] Good ending? I hope.

Sixty Seven by AcroArdent

1K/Oneshot- MCD [Their Note: This is just short erasermic angst. Featuring villain aizawa!]

Waiting For You to Call My Name by Purplemerald

2K/Oneshot- [Their Note: I mean, you tell me "Hizashi angst" and I think of this fic, short, painful, a must read].

Snapshot by LipstickVenom

5K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Insecure of his body image Hizashi :c ]

Five Stages of Grief by NeitherDeadnorAlive

3K/Ongoing- I saw no MCD warning. [Their Note: Hizashi is trapped with some civilians under loads of rubble! Rescate mission ensues! And huh... Its not finished, but its some great angst thooo]

Musical Vibrations by Rose_Cat

1K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Hizashi gets deafened :c ]

Letting Go by Zombieisms

<1K/Oneshot- MCD [Their Note: Hizashi is comatose].

Dangerous by AutisticWriter

1K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Little kid shinsou and hizashi bonding over their time at the orphanage].

One Last Time by CoolPandr

<1K/Oneshot- MCD [Their Note: Aizawa Mourning our sunshine boy :c short and painful]

You're Late! by AnotherWeirdoHere

<1K/Oneshot- MCD. I didn’t even read it but the title and the summary alone pained enough of a picture to make me choke. These concepts hit me for some reason [Their Note: Short angst! Super cute ending].

Too Loud and Too Much by doctornemesis

2K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Insecure teen hizashi :c someone give this boy a hug].

Just a Push by Say_Jay

5K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Aizawa injures Hizashi while training!]

Everything I Wanted by toshiwoshi

4K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Hizashi gets misuranderstood and gets his heart broken :c happy ending tho]

Memories by My_Furnace_Has_Wings

2K/Oneshot- MCD Omg... [Their Note: Ok this is erasermic family angst... Suuuuper sad, this author is great.]

Actions Speak Louder than Words by My_Furnace_Has_Wings

<1K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Teen erasermic confession with angst! Really good ^^]

Mr loverman by popweezle

1K/Oneshot- Angst with a freaking Happy Ending tag. Finally I am getting super depressed with these scenarios I am reading here. Good God. [Their Note: Another comatose Hizashi~]

first love / late spring by pgsaihara

1K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Erasermic angst, insecure Aizawa makes Hizashi upset :c ]

Needle-thin Tightrope by Dramaticdragon

2K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Another insecure about his volume hizashi :c poor baby but I kinda get him].

Small Hiding places by IsTheMedia

2K/Oneshot- Part of Villain!Mic [Their Note: Part of villain Hizashi series! But can be read alone... Implied child abuse, mind the tags].

(dis)trust by Cat_Tac

4K/Oneshot- TW: Sexual assault (doesn’t get far, but it is the basis of the plot). Mentioned this one in previous ask, but let’s put it in this huge pile too [Their Note: MIND THE TAGS PLEASE, this can be triggering. Hizashi is assaulted at work and feels guilty].

Be grateful, hero by SaltywithSarcasm

2K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Hizashi is kidnapped and tortured]

Tenacity by tiniest_hands_in_all_the_land

23K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Ok so... This is more Aizawa centric? But there is some amazing hizashi angst at the end! (Another 5+1 fic!)]

Déjà vu by douchegrayson

9K/Completed- Mentioned this one before too. I really love its concept so much [Their Note: Everyone forgets hizashi thanks to a quirk! Our poor boy is desolated :c ]

Stay With Me by MintIceTea

2K/Completed- [Their Note: Erasermic angst and fluff!]

Engagement by fecklessphilanderer

8K/Completed- [Their Note: Hizashi falls off a building, fluffy ending!]

Note: In all of these, make sure to read the tags please, in case there are any themes you’re uncomfortable with. I have not yet read most of these, so once more you’re gonna have to look out for yourselves. 🙏

#ask #Anonymous #erasermic #fic recs #nananswers #Jesus christ it is no wonder Ive not seen all this angst #I turn off the Major Character Death warning to exlude them #I am so sad #thank you for all your suggestions tho! Me and I am sure more people appreciate them

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spitdrunken · 2 years

Note

please the arcane thing.. i was gonna say hope u see the vision but even i don't read x reader in arcane even though i find almost all the cast attractive, was hoping you'd change my mind loll idk why my urge to insert myself in everything doesn't happen in this show ? one of the few media where i ship the characters instead

nvm i lied realized at the end of the paragraph that i somehow forgot i've been reading an absurd amount of sevika/reader, so ig.. hope u see the vision 🙏 also talking abt sevika, i'll say i have been imagining marilla with her appearance;; yes this is a call for u tell me how she actually looks like pls she is my favorite

i totally agree with you!! the cast is definitely attractive but,, i don’t have any desire to be a part of it / write for the characters x reader, if that makes sense?? purely for you honey i decided to look through the x reader tag in arcane to see if i had any ideas and <333 it’s very hard for me to imagine it, for once LMAO maybe i just don’t rlly agree with the typical way these people are being portrayed in these fics, that might be it honestly :’)

SEVIKA... I CAN ACCEPT THE EXCEPTION OF SEVIKA BECAUSE SHE’S ATTRACTIVE... and honestly comparing her to marilla isn’t all that weird because i can kinda see it honestly 👁️ BUT ALSO,, A MARILLA FAN? IN THE LOVELY YEAR OF 2022..... gently clutches my heart.... <3

i know i never describe my characters exactly WELL but- muscly woman, obviously. she’s got scars everywhere, cuz the wounds heal but the marks remain. her hands are very rough from all the work she does around her home and her continued practice. i’m not sure if i mentioned otherwise somewhere, but i have the image of her having stopped aging somewhere in her mid 30′s- early 40′s. she has wrinkles from how much she used to smile.

her eyes used to be a very dark brown, but they gleam almost reddish after she got blessed. her hair’s still brown, though. it’s pretty long. she’s always got it tied up one way or another so it doesn’t snag on anything / no one can grab it if she happened to be in a fight. (it would be easier to just cut it, and she knows this, but the length of her hair is... a bit of a symbol of pride, almost. shows how long she’s been around, and how skilled she is. no one can get close enough to throw her off balance by tugging at her hair.) she takes really good care of it. her clothes are stitched together from the hides of animals that live in the mountains. it’s kind of a patchwork, but it does its job, so she doesn’t care.

she has her armour still, but doesn’t usually wear it. it’s... a bit too painful to put on.

#oc.marilla #nw

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bumbershots · 3 years

Text

Mistletoe & Wine

A/N: Hello this is my collaboration for @goldenbluesuit very well put together Christmas song fic challenge. It’s my first time participating and my first time posting my writing here as well (I’m sort of new, I have no friends) so, I’m kind of nervous and English is not my first language (sorry for any mistakes) thanks to my boyfriend for being a Brit so he could help me with the “slang” and for reading this about fifteen times and listened to Mistletoe and Wine by Cliff Richard throughout the entire week with me lol. Thanks for taking the time to read this :) If you want to befriend a twenty six year old Aries, or just send me an ask click here.

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: Harry meets a woman that is not here to stay, he will need to decide if that will keep him from making the most of the very few days they have together or dread the imminent separation.

It was raining when her flight landed in London. The kind of rain that doesn't pour heavily, instead it settles over the city for days. And although she can't afford to take a cab, she steps out of the airport just to stare at the endless grey of the sky and wrap herself in her coat because of how cold it was. After a few more minutes she goes back inside to find the way to get out of there on the tube, she knew it to be possible after all the research she's been doing since the age of twelve on the internet.

Soon enough, the man she approached to ask for help, confirms that a train is leaving in a few minutes and she can easily get off at Hammersmith, he even helps her buy the ticket and recommends to get an oyster card if she is going to use London's Underground often. But she doesn't know, she relishes in the element of surprise that is surrounding her life for the next 3 weeks. It excites her to an unfamiliar degree to see people come and go into the carriage, it almost makes her miss her stop, but she manages to get off just in time, her hands clutching the heavy suitcase that contains all her nicest and warmest clothes. She follows the crowd up the stairs and out of the station, the busy street revealed before her is straight out of those books she restlessly studied at school, people wearing trench coats and long scarfs hurry in hopes to avoid the rain and then a red double-decker bus passes by. The cherry on top.

The spontaneous decision to spend Christmas in England instead of her home country was made months ago, on the night of her birthday, although her closest friends would say that she's been dreaming of it since she read Harry Potter. No one gave her a hard time for it, in fact, almost all her friends and family members went to the airport to wish her a safe trip. Her grandmother was cheeky enough to slip a twenty pound note when hugging her goodbye.

Every day of the first week went by in a blur, visiting museums, galleries and walking around the city, getting soaked in its beauty and the endless rain. By the beginning of the second week, a bit tired of the scarce options from the hotel's breakfast, she ventured out, burying half of her face in the scarf she bought the day before at Primark, her feet guiding her almost out of instinct to the little cafe at the end of Hercules road. The place is warm and the menu seems to have it all for a very fair price. After a couple of minutes the Full English wins, she iterates the order to the woman behind the counter and adds a cup of tea handing over the money.

"Get a seat love, I'll bring it over." The elder lady says making the girl smile and thank her before scampering across the room to sit by the window at the four seat table tucked in the corner.

It doesn't take long for her food to arrive and for her to dig in, feeling kind of full almost at the end, she slows down then, a trick her father passed down on her. Let it settle in for a few minutes before going back at it. Works every time. She gets lost on the daily life happening before her eyes, the people walking by, some in a rush maybe to get to work, others in a rush to get to the shops early and buy presents. She could easily tell the difference between one and other. The elderly couple walking to the market, slower than anybody else, arms linked and without a care in the world. A girl around her age doing "the walk of shame" elicited a smirk on her lips. Good for her.

"Do you mind if I take a seat?" She almost missed the question by the stranger standing there. "There's no empty seats elsewhere I'm afraid, I won't bother you." He was right, in the span of thirty minutes the place was full to the brim with families, the three seats at her table the only ones free so, she nodded and even managed to smile in a friendly way. Unfortunately for her, the green eyed stranger did the same, a sweet dimple on his left cheek more prominent than on the right one and she had to eat a spoonful of beans in an attempt to hide her blush.

Two weeks in the country, almost two weeks, and the best looking man on it decides to show up on a greasy spoon cafe when she's eating what's left of her sausages and beans. His food is delivered by the same lady from earlier, of course it is something that looks healthy. The sudden need to fly away from the place pops in her head, it's not a bad one, he doesn't even know her name. She wants to know his. She remembers how he said he wouldn't bother her, it's almost disappointing, she wants to be bothered.

The situation seems to be straight out of a rom-com, she is cutting the banger in little pieces, as if the formula to spark conversation with the mystery guy keeping her company is hidden in them. But after five minutes she sighs quietly, knowing that her own shyness won't let her even glance at him again. She will have to do her best to remember him and observe from the corner of her eye until the last piece of minced pork is consumed by her. And maybe she will gush about how gorgeous he was with her friends once she is back home, describing his shiny emerald eyes for them, sharing a sigh when she recalls how dreamy his accent was and squeal upon the memory of his raspy voice.

Ten minutes later her last bite is chewed and swallowed, the cup is empty as well. She's about to grab her coat draped on the back of her chair. "I'm going to have to break my non-disturbing you promise but... um, that's a sick cardigan." His voice doesn't sound confident as before, he even clears his throat, but his eyes never leave hers.

"Thanks, my grandma knitted it for me." She forgets about her coat and straightens out a bit for him to appreciate the colourful patchwork and extends her left arm to show the over-sized sleeve. Her companion hums in approval. "She hates it."

"What?" His green eyes widening in disbelief and she just shrugs.

"As soon as I put it on she went on and on about how horrible it was, the wrong proportions and how it all seemed better off in her mind." They share a giggle and don't notice that their empty plates have been taken away and the place is no longer swamped by people. "But I like it, I like it a lot, does a good job keeping me warm." And makes her look lovely, he thinks but doesn't say.

Instead he licks his lips before speaking again. "I'm Harry." He offers his left hand and she quickly eyes the cross tattoo.

"I'm a tourist." She says before adding her real name, earning a deep chuckle from him before letting go of his hand.

The set of circumstances in which she met Harry is dreamy for sure, but something about him made the set of affairs so real. When he asked about the places where she'd been the scoff afterwards and the roll of his eyes made her ask what was wrong about them. But he didn't answer, with a shake of his head and a deep sigh he asked for her phone number. The promise to show her the real London lingered in the air as they parted ways outside of the corner cafe.

Her heart raced at the very sight of him outside Borough Market the following morning. "Morning love, alright?" he greeted her before hugging her tight and quick. It was so genuine it made her wonder if she really just met him the day before. "Do you like doughnuts?"

"Who doesn't?" she says with that grin he worries will wait for him in his dreams.

"Wisest words ever spoken." Harry's arm is wrapped around her shoulders, guiding her on their quest inside the huge market.

The early morning is spent too soon, Harry guides her to talk to the stall owners, they are so passionate about their produce, most of them willing when possible to give them a sample. The highlight is the stop at Bread Ahead, they buy more doughnuts than what she thinks they need. They eat them all while sharing a Monmouth coffee. Harry shares with her stories about almost every stall they passed by. "I'm not a fan of red meat, and oysters." She keeps record of it, basking in his lovely anecdotes that seemed to summon the sun from it's hiding place. "We're granted a sunny day in winter!" He celebrates and it's impossible not to join him. "Let's go to Richmond Park."

Of course she nods in agreement and follows him down the street where he parked his car before she gets in the passenger seat. The stranger danger alarm, should've gone off in her head. But there was something about him, like he was holding her in place. As she heard Harry speak about his job, it started to make more sense in her head. Harry was a lot like this country, foreign, new, exciting and hers for the next few days. He made that clear when they parted ways at the end of the day.

"Come home with me for Christmas." Harry asked her on what would be the beginning of her last week in London, while having a picnic on Primrose Hill.

"With your family?" Her eyebrows were shot up when he nodded, fighting back that deadly smirk of his. "All your relatives will be there?" He nods again and she scoffs completely agitated. "Don't be daft Harry!" She voices out her feelings borrowing an expression of his.

He laughs and it's impossible for her not to join him, her face growing hotter by the second. "I don't want to go without you, and mum will love to have you there," that's what she fears.

"I don't know Harry, might be weird." He disagrees right away.

"It's close to Liverpool, we could spend a day or two over there." The past week he's been trying to learn as many things from her as possible and if he chooses his words carefully he can convince her. "Pay a visit to Anfield, The Cavern." His fake nonchalant attitude makes her roll her eyes, "Strawberry Fields is there too, you know?" She agrees and he kisses the back of her hand to mask the proud grin on his face.

In the past, she was always careful not to let a partner know how deeply she cared about them. The thought of being vulnerable made her lose her mind, thinking it was a sign of weakness. But seeing Harry drive through the English countryside, singing at the top of his lungs to Mistletoe and Wine by Cliff Richard and smiling just for her. It made her want to tell him, but not even all the words in every single language ever spoken by humanity could be enough to give him an idea of how much she cares for him.

There hasn't been a proper kiss between them, it puzzled her at first. Because his gaze seemed to be constantly directed to her lips. But then there was all the touching, holding hands, tucking her to his side when walking, his tender touch before hugging her goodbye. And the way he was always running his hands through her hair.

"She's a friend," he introduces her to his mum Anne and sister Gemma, after saying her name, chewing on the word like it's that mint gum he carries in his purse everywhere he goes. "Was a bloody tourist when I first met her but now... she's a proper Londoner." She doubts it, but she agrees on them being friends and she likes it, a lot.

They help Anne and Gemma to set the table and the finishing touches for dinner. Only three more family members show up and she chastises Harry for making her believe that all of his offspring was going to attend. That's how they usually spend Christmas Eve back home, she explains.

It saddens him, the thought of her going back to her home country in five days time. All the way across the Atlantic, six hours behind him. It's almost unfair.

"Tell me more about it," Harry's curiosity is genuine, thinking that he would love to know more about her traditions. Perhaps even be lucky enough to share them someday.

"We don't have these," she regrets taking a tube of brightly coloured paper. "We have piñatas though." She adds proudly and Harry's jaw hangs open in surprise.

"No fucking way!" He is immediately told off by his mum as they all take a seat at the table. "I thought that was only allowed for birthdays."

"There's no rules for that!" She takes the Christmas cracker out again and Harry takes it from the other end. "So, I just pull it?" He nods and it makes a noise revealing the present.

"You get the crown." Harry unfolds it before helping her fix it atop her head. "And the little toy, what is it?oh... I get the joke!" His family groans, his sister hiding her face in hands, but all she sees is the glint in Harry's eye before he reads. "Who's Rudolph's favourite pop star?"

"I don't know," she's the only one that was going to ask him. And she really wanted to know.

"Beyon-sleigh!" Harry watches in delight how the girl before him snorts at the silly and not so funny joke.

"That was awful." She confessed.

"Agree, next year we'll make our own. Riddles only." His mum adds and Harry protests right away but is shushed by Gemma's voice reading out loud the riddle from her cracker.

Next year, she will probably be spending the day with her numerous family, she thinks. Harry will be here again, telling awful jokes, pulling away Christmas crackers. Perhaps he will bring another person with him. She tries to push the poisonous thoughts down with a big gulp of wine. Only succeeding when Harry's left hand rests on her knee, his thumb rubbing circles on her skin exposed by her ripped jeans while he listens to his sister talk about her podcast. It marvels her how he is there, for everybody.

After dinner they play family games and Harry makes a fake tantrum after his cousin Chloe claims his companion for her team.

"She's mine!" He argues, his long arms embracing her easily. She ends up joining the other team, but the quick kiss she bravely gave to his neck before he let her go, confirmed the words he spoke.

There is a three step process Harry follows to know he's fallen in love. If he finds himself talking about them with every living soul, if he does something they like just because it makes him miss them less and finally if he takes them home to meet his mum. He knows that for the past few days, there was no other topic to discuss with him than the girl sitting beside him in the sofa. He's been drinking tea every morning, just because it reminds him of her. He watches her talk to his mother about how much they like Rod Stewart and knows that he's in too deep.

It should bother him, because she will leave. And all these moments spent, will be just distant memories for him to torture himself over and over again. He wants to feel the angst of knowing that maybe she will forget him, maybe she has a partner back home. He gives up on trying to feel miserable, agreeing with that song from earlier. It is a time to rejoice in the good that we see, a time for living and believing.

Right now all he sees is her, he sighs before tucking her by his side, her brown doe eyes meeting his briefly before sneaking an arm around his waist. She continues to chat with Anne and Gemma even after the rest of the guests leave, still holding onto him. Harry can see the fondness radiating from his mother and sister for the girl in his arms. He sees trust, and he smiles thinking of a new beginning.

What a beautiful sight.

#harry styles #gbsxmaschallenge #fanfic

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cloudsrust · 2 years

Text

Patchwork Care (Part 8)

It has been two weeks since The Incident.

Two weeks of radio silence.

Two weeks of astounding productivity, of unparalleled inspiration.

Not even in his days as an underachieving student, a college professor, or an overachieving rookie DJ had he been hit with such muses. The work that he had neglected because of their daunting complexity were slain in record time as if they had been child's play. Truly, the magnificence of his mind was shinning through once more.

His social media was a testament to that, as his fans praised him for the noticeable (positive) change to the infrastructure of Cast Tech, theorizing that this had been in the making for ages, a grand plan to satisfy all the citizens under his care. His music was commended as well for being exciting and new, a renaissance of sorts. Brilliance like that, as the fans say, can only be achieved through months, possibly years of reworking and perfecting his craft.

Flattering, really. Which is why it was strange that DJ Subatomic Supernova had yet to appear in any interviews or make a statement through his Chirper page. Speculation dictated that perhaps he was going to do a spectacular reveal of some sort.

All of those theories were, objectively speaking, false.

The reality of the situation was much, much simpler; Dr. Aster Leavitt was overworking to ignore the haunting thoughts orbiting his mind. That, and also his email, phone, fax, any sort of communication device really. His problems would cease to exist if he ignored them for long enough, right? It didn't matter that his will to radically bring about change in Cast Tech had been spurred upon the memory of the Mortifying Incident in which he...

Well, he didn't want to remember it, thus it never happened. That's how things work. That's how he wished things would work. Oh, what a miserable state was he in, fretting the day where he would have to face the consequences of his actions. Perhaps this was cosmic karma for being such a lousy charter. That had to be the case because his muses for his music were aptly named Despair, No One Can Hear You Scream If You Are Space Itself, and What Has My Life Become. Why would anyone find his newest compositions brilliant was beyond him at this point.

The muse What Has My Life Become made itself present again as he hurried through the hallways of NSR's HQ to borrow a MIDI keyboard given that during his intensive work the previous one stopped working. A new one was on its way, but Aster was a very busy man with no time to think about his bountiful (and recent) mistakes.

The Universe had to be conspiring against him that day because just around the corner he saw Neon J and 1010, the former getting into an elevator while the latter sent him off with a salute. He had been avoiding the six of them the most because of their last interaction. At least Jun had not noticed him. However, when the elevator door closed, all five pairs of robotic eyes locked on to him, akin to the horror movies that gave him insomnia when he was a teen.

Using his brilliant mind to think of the best escape route while not raising any suspicions, Nova turned 180° and walked back to take a different hallway to find an elevator he could use. Hell, even taking the stairs started to sound like a viable option in his definitely-not-panicked state.

As expected, four of them followed. Four? No time to think about that, Aster needed to find the nearest escape route without being obvious. Plus, he really needed that MIDI keyboard. Yet 1010 were relentless; no matter what obscure hallway he took, the androids were hot on his trail. In a way, it made him feel like a mouse in an endless labyrinth.

The moment he realized he had messed up was when Purl-Hew appeared in front of him as soon as he turned the corner. They had led him to that particular hallway without him noticing. "𝚆𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚎, 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝?"

"I really don't want to-"

"𝙽𝚘, 𝚗𝚘. 𝚆𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝." Rin said with a thousand watt smile that looked forced. An interesting expression, vaguely threatening. Zimelu's hand was placed on his shoulder as encouragement.

Subatomic made a mental note that if and when he spoke with Neon, he would need to advise the cyborg to teach the androids some basic pragmatism. For example, whatever they were doing at that moment was not okay. At least Haym and Eloni looked anxious enough.

Once the door closed behind them and they were properly seated, Aster prepared for the worst.

"𝚂𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢, 𝚂𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢, 𝚂𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢~"

"𝚆𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚠𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎."

"What-"

"𝚃𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚢, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚌."

"𝙳𝚞𝚍𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊! 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢."

"What is going on-"

"𝙽𝚘 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢, 𝚠𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚞𝚝!"

"Plan?"

"𝙾𝚑, 𝚜𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚍𝚊- 𝙸 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝙲𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗!"

This was officially the worst possible outcome and not for the reasons expected. Nova could feel himself withering at just the mere thought of their standards of courting and dating. He had seen them on stage and in fan meets. He had heard them flirt. For younger people that would be fine, maybe, but for him? Absolutely not.

A clap from Rin gained back his attention. "𝚂𝚘, 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎-"

With a firm tone and a blank expression, Aster decided to stop their misunderstanding before they pulled a stunt. "Now I'm going to stop you right there."

"𝙷𝚖? 𝙾𝚑, 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢."

The DJ hesitated. Did he really want any answers? "A few. First of all, where did you five get the idea that either myself or Neon would want to date each other?"

"𝚆𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚍𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚌 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍."

"A tape recorder is not archaic- Wait, you what?"

"𝙸 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗... 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙲𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗..."

"𝚃𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚜, 𝙲𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚝-𝚒𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎, 𝚜𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙!"

The boy band didn't seem as certain about their plan now given that Nova's head was looking pretty red at the moment. Their fans usually got red-in-the-face in adoration when in their presence, but this expression the DJ was giving them felt too different. A swirl of red, as well as the encompassing white they had seen weeks ago. Purl-Hew, who had the most sensitive sight, noticed that there were specs of yellow and pink.

"Right, I'm going to ignore the eavesdropping for now. However, I need to clear up some misunderstandings. While I did say that I," Saying that word was difficult, especially when 1010 was staring at him so intently, "felt that particular way, that doesn't mean it's romantic."

"𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎," Haym stated with a pout, "𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝙲𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝙹, 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘."

The nerve-

Aster took a deep breath, calming himself down, the swirls of red dissipating. In a way, 1010 were still children when it came to the complexity of emotions. Not like he was any better, but at least he liked to think he had more experience.

"Right, but that's not all I said. You focused too much on the word that you missed the context around it." Upon receiving blank stares, he decided that he should be more practical about the topic. "Okay, lets try explaining this with an example. You love your fans, right?"

"𝚈𝚎𝚜~"

"Would you date any of them?"

"𝙾𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝!" Zimelu was awfully confident in his answer, having his brothers nod along. That is, until it sunk in. All of them started to look baffled. "𝚆𝚊𝚒𝚝."

"𝚆𝚘𝚊𝚑, 𝙸'𝚖 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍. 𝙳𝚘 𝚠𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚜? 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚣𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖? 𝙵𝚊𝚗𝚣𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐??" Eloni exclaimed, worried that he would upset his fans, especially after only recently gaining a small following.

The self-assured Haym seemed to have doubts swirling in his mind. "𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚜, 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚁𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?"

"𝚈𝚎𝚊𝚑, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚐𝚘 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖. 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔. 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎?"

"𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑." Purl rubbed his shoulder with his left-hand. It was a motion the DJ could recognize; Neon tended to do the same when troubled.

Bless Tatiana for her example it made things so much easier for Aster. "Alright, slow down before you fry your circuits." With a sigh, Nova briefly pondered his next words. "As you could observe, the issue isn't so simple. I... I haven't quite figured it out myself. All I know is that he's important to me and I wish to remain by his side."

"𝙲𝚘𝚘𝚕!"

"𝙿𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗."

"𝚂𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖?"

Some time ago, Neon J had commented that the current 1010 were toned down from their original design. Not so much their physical form, but their personalities and their performance ability. For example, Rin was supposed to be a straight shooter, both in honesty and to reach his audience hearts. Nova would argue that Rin had not been toned down at all given his blunt question that left no room to escape.

"Well, I'm not avoiding him per se..."

"𝙸𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚘?" Perl-huw questioned with a skeptical tone. "𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚜, 𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝟷𝟾𝟶° 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖?"

"No, because I'm doing that with everyone. Thus, given that I am not singling him out, I am not avoiding him."

Haym squinted his eyes, trying to find the logic in his actions. It was on brand for Aster to not do things if he didn't want to, unless it was absolutely necessary, so the idea that he had been avoiding everyone equally did make sense within his pattern of behavior. What didn't make sense was his reasoning behind it.

Even so, Eloni seemed concerned over this behavior. Out of the members of 1010, he was the more emphatic one, his intelligence dependent on understanding others emotions. "𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜... 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚖."

"I'm aware. I still don't plan on doing anything about it until I get called out."

"𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚔, 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚎'𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚞𝚝!" The cheerful of Haym attitude was blinding Nova.

"There's no need for that," The distinctive voice of Neon J rang out. He was there, leaning against the door frame. His tone was unreadable, although his posture was relaxed. "Soldiers, wait outside for a bit. We might take awhile."

Nova wished the room had windows so he could throw himself out of one.

~~~~~~~~

It's been so long! Sorry for the delay, but life got crazy for a second >-<

I hope you all like it!

——————————————

You may know already what I'm about to say but remember to go give love to the amazing writer @inkedfeather9 -!!

#Patchwork Care Fan Fic #no straight roads #nsr #dj subatomic supernova #nsr djss #djss #nsr 1010 #nsr neon j #neon j #not gonna comment in the tags to not break them so I hope I let through how much I still love this fic in the dms!!

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miraculousmarifan · 4 years

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Felinette Month - Day 1: Purrito

So this is my first time writing something that wasn’t academic or work documentation in probably at least 5 years and it’s definitely my first fan fic so please bear with the rough writing. And the potential out of character-ness of this. I wasn’t even planning to write for this but after reading a few of the ones by @fandomsilhouette, I felt too inspired not to try!

Fingers crossed that this burst of inspiration last long enough for me to finish the prompts on @felinettenovember!

This is based loosely on a fan fic I read a while back (if I remembered who wrote it, I’d completely tag them here but I don’t even remember the name now)

Chat!Felix and reveal

Around 1500 words and most certainly fluff

Marinette hummed as she put together the tray of cheese pastries and tea for her anticipated visitor. She loved the decision to make a schedule for patrol to clear up some time in her and Chat’s busy schedules. Under this, she had three days every week that she didn’t need to worry about sneaking out and one day that they could meet up from patrol to hang out and work on finding Hawkmoth. Additionally it resulted in a standing visit with her masked friend once a week, with her parents’ approval after the Weredad akuma brought it to their attention under the condition of homework still getting done, of course.

Once upstairs, Marinette worked on tidying up her room a little from her projects, as the scrap pile from her ongoing projects could be a little distracting and she preferred to have those in acceptable condition for smaller projects. Maybe she could make a nice patchwork quilt for Felix as a get-well present, since he seemed to be coming down with something. A cold or maybe the flu? He definitely seemed flushed and less alert than usual, seeming to space out while looking at her throughout the day.

As she sat down with the pieces, arranging and rearranging to find the most appealing look that Felix may approve of, a thump sounded from the balcony and the clatter of a chair falling. Quickly pushing the fabrics out of sight, Marinette climbed up and opened the door to peer out at Chat. He was still laying on the ground with a bright red face, visibly sweaty skin, and eyes shut.

“Oh! You look terrible Chat! Did something happen on your patrol?” Marinette rushed over to help him up slowly and stopped when she noticed the shiver running through him and the quick breaths. She felt his forehead, pushing his more disheveled than usual hair out of the way. His eyes slowly opened and a weak grin crossed his face.

“Hiya Princess. You look nice today. Is your hair down?” His hand reached up and batted at the closest pigtail. Her hair was definitely still in it’s pigtails, albeit a little longer than they were when these visits first started. That’s not a good sign…

“Let’s get you inside and out of the cold. Are you sick? Why didn’t you go home right away after patrol if you’re sick? Or better yet, why not call Ladybug and ask her to cover this patrol so you could rest up?” He mumbled incoherently and leaned heavily on her as she helped him climb into her room. The moment he was near the chaise, he collapsed heavily on it.

Marinette rushed to grab blankets and a pillow to make him comfortable, chastising him about the importance of taking care of his health and assuring him that Ladybug certainly felt the same way, despite his denials of being sick. With some coaxing, she managed to get him to sit up so she could wrap the biggest blanket she owned around his shoulders. She moved to grab another blanket and pillow and he let himself fall down again, rolling off the chaise onto the floor.

“Oh Chat! Let me help you back up! I’m sure you’d be much cozier than on the floor!” I’m sure my parents are wondering what is happening at this point. Hopefully they help me take care of him when they’re done prepping for tomorrow, at least enough that he can make it home.

“Nnnngh,” and curled up tighter in the blanket, burying his face into the spot where the carpet and the top edge of the blanket met. With a resigned sigh, Marinette went to the bathroom to find a thermometer and to see what kinds of medicine they had. At least if it’s only a cold, she might be able to give him something to help him through the night. Coming back into the room, she chuckled at the sight of him curled up tightly, like a little purrito.

“Chat, you need to get up and take this so you feel better soon. I have some tea that you can take it with, if you’d like,” Marinette cooed, trying to sound as much like her mother as possible, as she walked towards the nearly forgotten tray with medicine in hand.

“I don’t want to! I want to cuddle,” Chat protested and pulled the blanket closer in, somehow curling up even more and acting more like a petulant child throwing a tantrum with each passing minute. Marinette brought the tray over, setting it near the chaise, grabbing another blanket, and knelt down by his side.

“I tell you what, if you sit up and take your medicine like a good boy, I’ll give you this extra blanket and let you pick which pillow you want to use,” she bribed, hoping that the time babysitting Manon had taught her the right skill for this kind of situation. With this offer on the table, Chat managed to sit up slowly, his eyes looking more glazed over than when he had arrived. Marinette handed him the tea, grown cold by this point, and the correct dosage of cold medicine, to prevent him from accidentally taking too much.

He quickly took both without further protests and then a goofy grin broke out. “I want you to be my pillow!” His arms wrapped around Marinette and tried to curl himself up on her lap. The contact made her blush a bit and she tried to pull back.

“You’re such a flirt! What happened to being in love with Ladybug?” she joked nervously. After readjusting so he was just leaning on her shoulder, instead of across her lap, she used one hand to drape the second blanket over him. At least this way I can tell he isn’t too cold.

“I only flirt with you and Ladybug. I can’t help that if I didn’t have this curse, you’d be my first choice,” he murmured, seeming to be drifting back to sleep already. Marinette was stunned into silence. Did this mean Chat likes her? How did things change so much just from hanging out? With how out of it he seems, is he going to remember this conversation later? Are things going to be different the next time I see him?

For a few minutes she spiraled, thinking of every possible thing that could change, speculating whether this would affect how she treated him as Ladybug (try as she might to avoid letting these nights slip into her superhero life), and how different this might have been if she didn’t have a crush on Felix. Soon he startled her out of her thoughts with a jolt, as he sat up and started thrashing wildly at the blankets and pulling at his suit.

“Ack! Too hot! Stupid suit! Plagg, claws in!”

A flash of light and silence. Marinette clamped her hands over her eyes as quickly as she could with her brain already running on delay.

“Mmmmmmm. Much better,” he mumbled, before Marinette felt his head resting on her leg, arms wrapping around her waist, and body resting on her lap. She kept her hands over her eyes and freaked out internally. How am I supposed to talk him into transforming back?

“What are you doing kid?! You can’t do that here! Nobody is supposed to know your identity! I hate to say it but you need to transform back so Ladybug doesn’t get upset with you!” Plagg fumed. Marinette felt him try to pull on Chat’s arms

“You’re so warm,” Chat purred out, ignoring Plagg’s badgering, “Why don’t we do this more often, Princess? This would be perfect during movie nights.”

I need to do something. I can’t stay like this forever!

“Chat, why don’t you transform back and just take one of the blankets off? Wouldn’t that be better?” Marinette kept her eyes clamped together, moving her hands slowly down to where she thought his shoulder was and felt for the blankets. Apparently he hadn’t pulled them back up before curling up on her so it was just his shirt. Feeling utterly surreal, she noted that the sleeve’s fabric felt like the high quality fabrics she had to save up to buy for bigger, fancier projects.

“Noooooo. This is what I want. This is too nice to give up!” he protested, twisting his body up first to bury his face into her side, then shake it dramatically. A ticklish jolt ran through her body and she opened her eyes without thinking, pushing him back to stop him.

“Felix?!” Marinette gasped. Felix just smiled and continued trying to cuddle back up to her.

Just then Marinette’s parents knocked on the door downstairs and asked if they could come in. If her brain hadn’t come to a halt, she might’ve had a joke about their impeccable timing.

#felinette month 2020 #felinette month #chat!felix #fluff #felinette #miraculous ladybug

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choface · 3 years

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Thank you for the tag Betsy @thewestishharpooners It was the push I needed for a year end wrap up. 💖

RULES: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome work.

**honorable mention: I knitted a scarf a la Harry’s patchwork jw anderson cardigan. hats off to everyone who actually made the cardigan because i don’t care what they said...it’s not beginner level lmao.

5. baby look what you’ve done now — my sexy little larry vampire roleplay ficlet for @1dtrickortreatfest. It was a fun challenge to hit a specific word count (666 words) and to just write smut for the sake of smut.

4. lord knows i tried (can’t get her off my mind) — baby’s first girl direction written for @wankersday. this one is so near to my heart and i do want to write a sequel still because harriet deserves kisses from louise. 😩

3. go as slow as you want to — HS1 era Gryles tenderness. it started as an old wip that I dusted off at the beginning of quarantine and ended as a very sweet and tender fic about harry wearing panties. it broke me out of my severe writer’s block and for that I am so very grateful.

2. my Fine Line track by track embroidery project — if it weren’t for quarantine giving me an excess of free time, I never would’ve finished these. It was such a great challenge for me and to actually finish was such a satisfying accomplishment. I’m self taught and stubborn so I feel like these are pretty damn good. you can search my tag (fine line embroidery project or my embroidery) to see them all.

1. let me try with pleasured hands — larry single dads au halloween fluff and smut. all I wanted to do was write about Harry in his SNL tutu and it accidentally spiraled into a really cute au. I can see myself writing more of them in the future, but stands alone as a one shot just fine. I had so much fun writing it.

I’m quite emotional about the creative output I managed this year. It really shows that a 40 hour work week is *not* conducive to a creative life for me lol. But I am very happy to have had the time this year and am so thankful to have received all the love, comments, and kudos from everyone. I appreciate more than y’all know.

I know a lot of people have done this already so I’ll tag @goldenistheantidote @hazzabeeforlou @bearmustard @runaway-train-works

#mine #fine line embroidery project #my fic #2020 wrap up

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luminecho · 3 years

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Send a fandom thing, Linked Universe and if someone already asked you that, Four Swords? And if SOMEONE ELSE ALSO ASKED THAT THEN any fandom you want :)

Hey Adel!! :D Nobody else has asked me for either one, so I’ll do LU since that’s the one you asked for first (though I’d be more than happy to answer for FS as well if someone else asks for that 👀 or if you ask again, I don’t have much faith that many other people will lol)

(Ask game)

The first character I first fell in love with: To the surprise of no one, Wild. BotW was my first LoZ game and I stumbled upon LU by complete accident, so ofc I immediately latched onto Wild as my favorite like many others have. My love for him died down over time though and I have new favorites now, but I still like him.

The character I never expected to love as much as I do now: Warriors. Legend and Four are my top favorites but I saw that coming. I always love prickly asshole characters with a secret soft side, and Four has always been interesting to me, but Warriors? I never cared about him. Until I suddenly I did. It was an eye-opening experience. I love him.

The character everyone else loves that I don’t: hh..... Time and Wild, but on two opposite ends of the spectrum. I already said that Wild used to be my favorite, BUT he’s been slowly falling down the list because he’s just,, everywhere. He’s a fan favorite and ofc that’s valid but it just starts to get a little overbearing when content for him is unavoidable. I like him, but if there’s too much of him I tend to back out a little. As for Time, I don’t know exactly how poplar he is in comparison to the others? But he’s my least favorite of the 9 of them. I don’t DISLIKE him, not in the slightest, but I connect with him the least. He’s just a little boring imo. I think it’s the fact that he’s aged up so much in comparison to his age on his adventures? Idk.

The character I love that everyone else hates: Uhhhhhh... well, I can’t think of anyone LU-specific, honestly. But Navi and Fi are generally disliked characters in terms of general LoZ, and while I don’t know how much that carries over to the LU fandom (since any fics I’ve seen with them in it usually shed a good light on them), they’re the only ones that I can really say here. I love them both.

The character I used to love but don’t any longer: Wild. 😔 for reasons previously stated. His fanon depiction also tends to be VERY exaggerated to two different extremes and I’m usually not a fan of either. I would like to restate though that anybody who loves him is completely and totally valid and I’m not bashing on him or you in any way! (I was one of you once, after all, lol.) Although I wouldn’t say I “don’t love him anymore,” just not nearly as much. I don’t dislike him though.

The character I would totally smooch: hm... Hyrule, but like, platonically. Little smooch on the cheek or top of the head. He deserves it. Wolfie, too, presuming he doesn’t rip my face off <3

The character I’d want to be like: Hyrule. He’s been through a lot of shit, but he has a lot of courage and that adventurous drive that I really admire. As someone who has anxiety but is adventurous at heart, I find myself projecting a lot on him bvdjksjw. I wanna be able to face my fears and go out and explore the world. He’s such a nice person, too.

The character I’d slap: I don’t think I’d slap anyone. I love them all too much... although Legend and Warriors are probably both always deserving of a slap, lmao.

A pairing that I love: Romantically speaking: Legend/Marin,, I’m soft... it may or may not be because of my crush on Marin but LOOK. They’re ADORABLE. Plus I love the idea of a snarky character like Legend ending up breaking down into a flustered mess in front of his crush. I’m obsessed with them. They’re so tragic but just,, just thinking about them being happy absolutely warms my heart.

Platonically speaking uhhh don’t make me choose, I feel like I’m obsessing over a new pairing every day. Throw any of my top 4 (Four, Legend, Hyrule, Warriors) into a pairing with someone else and I’ll probably love them. HOWEVER, Legend & Hyrule and Legend & Warriors kill me instantly. I love them with my whole heart. As for Four, pairings with him are a bit rarer, but recently since I started working on one of my wips (Patchwork & Indigo), I’ve started becoming really obsessed with the idea of Four & Warriors. They have so much potential,,,

A pairing that I despise: Despise is a strong word. ..........................that being said,,,, Sidon/Wild / Sidlink in general. ,,,,NOBODY COME AT ME, I just. I’ve never gotten it. People who like it are totally valid but I just don’t care for it 😔 I can’t even really explain why, It just... doesn’t connect. If it’s any more prominent than just mentioned in a fic then chances are I’ll probably stop reading. I don’t despise it, or hate it, I’m not disgusted by it or anything like that, it just doesn’t vibe with me, ya know? Yea...

#tysm for asking!!#and yeah feel free to ask again for fs if you’d like bc I don’t currently have anyone else in my inbox #(you don’t have to ofc tho)#I rarely get any asks lol #2 in a day is def a first for me #edit: NVM I JUST GOT A FS ASK LETS GOOOO #//#answered #adel-memes #ask game #lu #linkeduniverse

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yoificfinder · 4 years

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Hey love, hope you are doing well ✨ I was wondering if you have any recommendations regarding side characters (personality analysis, friendship etc.) I absolutely adore all the side characters in the YOIverse however there are not many fics revolving around them so if you know any good ones, it'd be great!! Thank you so much in advance 💟

Hey dear nonnie! This took a long time, I hope you're still here. I combed through ao3 to find fics I remember that fit your request and discovered new gems along the way! Many of these are not popular/underrated but I guarantee that they're good reads so I hope you (and anyone else who finds this) enjoy! If only for that reason alone, I really hope this rec list becomes one of the most popular posts in this blog (I would really appreciate a reblog!) so these fics/authors can receive more love! Plus this is the most exhaustive and time-consuming rec list I've made so far (but I still feel that I missed a lot so other recs are welcome!).

Without further ado, here are some great YOI side-characters' stories in canonverse:

(Don't) Give A Damn by @forochel [T, 9K]

Mari, through the years.

an open door by tripcyclone [G, 8K]

Lilia never wanted children of her own, but caring for Victor gives her a glimpse into the life she chose to pass by.

Beautiful In Knowing by @val-creative [T, 1K]

Sara knew she was a girl, even if nobody else did or believed her.

She ordered Michele to call her "Lady Sara" from now on. He would roll his eyes and grumble, but never attempt to misgender her. She liked "Sara" — it meant "lady, princess, noblewoman". And she would never go back to her deadname.

by any other name by iguanastevens [T, 2K]

"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

Yuri's life as told by the names he's given; or, how Yuri's names direct his life.

Feathers on the Ice by Kiranokira / @kyashin [E, 79K]

After dinner and a bath and quality hamster time, snuggled in bed cocooned within his eight entirely necessary pillows, Phichit indulges himself and investigates Seung-gil's hashtag. There isn’t much from Seung-gil himself, but Seung-gil's fans are many and dedicated. Amid the photos of Seung-gil at competitions or practicing and the few candid shots of Seung-gil in airports or out on the streets of Seoul, there’s a very recent professional video uploaded by user andjoy_studio.

Phichit clicks on it, and his life changes.

fermata by perbe [T, 3K]

When one is patchwork of growth plates and bruises, it is inevitable that one must admire boys with words a size too big, as if they know down to their bones that they are meant for something greater.

I used to burn for you, Otabek thinks.

(A character study on Otabek's reaction to his placement at the Grand Prix Finals.)

Go On Ahead by @kiaronna [G, 2K]

Sour, grouchy Yakov didn’t understand sparkly purple skate outfits or wanting to eat your weight in sweets or having crushes on boys.

But Viktor did.

Gossips, Chinese whispers and misunderstandings by womanroaring [M, 8K]

Series of short stories relating to how certain (often perfectly innocent) scenes in Yuri On Ice would have looked from the outside. And just the gossip and stuff that would have surrounded them.

I am Yuri Plisetsky by rinsled05 / @dreaming-fireflies [M, 1K]

Who is Yuri Plisetsky?

He's not Agape.

Not a “prima donna” ballerina.

And definitely no Russian fairy.

No, Yuri Plisetsky is an angry, loud, in-your-face, Russian tiger who will take to the ice and give you a brilliant gold-worthy performance you will never forget.

... a piece on Yuri's rationale for skating to "Welcome to the Madness". Rated for the actual foul-mouthed language in the story itself, courtesy of one Yuri Plisetsky.

if friends were flowers i'd pick you by windupbirdgirl / @tanpopori [G, 4K]

Yuuko thinks of Yuuri’s skating, beautiful and flawed. She thinks of Yuuri sitting with the girls instead of the other boys at practice. She thinks of Yuuri and Viktor, the posters of him he asks her to buy him for birthdays. The posters he wouldn't ask anyone else to buy.

“Oh, Yuuri.” She bites her nails, ruining the carefully applied polish. She doesn’t care at all.

Sitting in that tiny bedroom, she makes a big decision.

if love is king, who wears the crown by @crollalanzaa [G, 1K]

“Second is seen as nothing,” Christophe had derided.

“But that moment you glide onto the ice, that hush of the audience, and that expectation, isn’t that worth something?”

“You speak as if you know. You used to skate?"

Past tense. It still stung, even if it was expected.

Minako knows exactly what it's like to be at the top of your game, and she remembers the descent just as clearly.

if she wants me by renaissance [G, 6K]

Hiroko and Minako, then and now.

kagura by night by seventhstar / @pencilwalla [T, 1K]

The world around her is like the mountains.

A mortal lifespan is narrow; mortals watch the mountain’s unchanging faces, unravaged by the same measure of time that takes a human from dust to dust, and think them immortal in comparison. But stone erodes, just as flesh decays. It just takes longer.

If she watches long enough, everything changes. Languages drift until all the words she learned before are meaningless. Technology changes until she ceases to believe in magic because human ingenuity is more infinite than the stars. What is beautiful, what is polite, what is wrong, what is right—time, given its way, reshapes all.

But Minako’s body remains as it has always been. That’s why she loves to dance, she supposes; it’s the one thing time cannot take from her.

Katsudon by @azriona [G, 8K]

Hiroko doesn’t need to see to coat pork cutlets in egg and panko. She has made this dish for her family for over thirty years; she’ll make it another thirty, if she’s lucky.

Now she makes it for Yuuri and Victor as they fly home from Barcelona, with silver around their necks and gold around their fingers.

keep me steady as we go by strikinglight [G, 3K]

When Isabella stood and crossed the room to where he sat she saw her notebook open in his lap, turned to the last page of their to-do list, all but three items crossed off with less than a month to the wedding date. License. Ceremony. Everything after. She saw the angle of his gaze, too, not on the words but straight ahead, staring blank and glassy and brittle into some invisible place she still wasn’t sure she could follow him to, yet. And yet she had been the one who’d promised to try—and to keep promising, forever and forever.

Kooks by BoxWineConfessions [G, 3K]

Mari clasps her right hand across her left hand and rests them both atop her growing stomach. “I guess you’re just lucky that your father, I mean your other father, my brother-“ Mari giggles. “God, it all sounds so weird, doesn’t it? Do you care? Do you care that we’re all so fucked up and we don’t care at all?” Mari laughs again. It’s all she can do when she hurts this much, and wants a cigarette this much, but can’t stop smiling despite the fact that her body seems to hate her so much. “Well he means the world to me. That’s why I have you.”

Living in the Maybe by @adrianners [T, 6K]

It wasn’t hard to spot a 180cm platinum blond in Fukuoka International Airport. Especially when he was the only person wearing sunglasses. Indoors. At night.

Mari picks Viktor up at the airport when he returns from Moscow. Without Yuuri there to play his usual role of interpreter, they learn to communicate around their linguistic, cultural, and personal barriers.

post tenebras lux by @alykapediaaa [T, 1K]

“Which skater would you say has inspired your skating the most?”

The question catches him unaware, so much so that he’s rendered speechless. It’s only when he sees Yakov lean towards the microphone to answer in his stead that Yuri blurts out the first name that comes to mind.

“Yuuri Katsuki.”

The Best Men by @kiaronna [Not Rated, 5K]

Just as Viktor lives to surprise, Christophe Giacometti lives to scandalize, to sensationalize. But innocent little Phichit Chulanont is proving to be an impossible victim.

OR: where Christophe tries very hard to get under one Thai skater’s skin, and instead finds himself all over the younger skater’s Instagram feed and wrapped around his finger.

the city of bridges by @stammiviktor [T, 5K]

After three flights, a train ride, and dinner at the Katsukis' table, Yakov finally sees Hasetsu through Viktor's eyes.

The First Cut by BoxWineConfessions [E, 27K]

People made divorce seem like this long drawn out and ugly process, but it really wasn’t. He bought the town home for Isabella as a gift, and so it was hers. The flat down town would go to him, as it was closer to the rink. They paid off her medical school loans last fall, so that was done too. He had a few cars, which she unanimously agreed were his to keep, so long as she could keep her Corvette. She changed her vanity plate from Dr. Leroy to Dr. Yang. He saw it parked out front of the courthouse.

trials of Coach Yakov series by @naraht [T and M, 40K]

Summaries of fics in the series:

1. Forced to share a bed with Victor at the Sochi Grand Prix Final, Yakov learns more than he wants to know.

2. Yakov attempts to prepare Yuri for his transition to Seniors. Yuri doesn't care to listen.

3. No sex while you're competing – this is Yakov's rule. His athletes often have other ideas.

4. In 1980, Yakov Feltsman is the USSR's skating hero. At a dull official reception, he defends his loyalty to the motherland – and makes the acquaintance of a beautiful young dancer from the Bolshoi.

5. In which both Victor and Yakov have to remake themselves – Victor after his first Olympic gold and Yakov after his divorce.

Tz'ror by athoroughlybakedpotato [T, 3K]

Yakov changes much slower than the times do, but steadiness is not always a bad thing.

---

ETA - Other people's rec:

curtain of lies by @mandolinearts

JJ's Bizarre Adventure by Falahime

Landscapes of Spring and Summer by @myyoitrashblog

The Melancholy of Georgi Popovich by Falahime

+ a lot more recs on this reblog!!

Thanks for the rec, @vilchen, @genuine-firefly, @adrianners, and @kaleidodreams! ❤

#yuri on ice #yoi #yoi fic rec #yoi fanfic #side characters

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