#the wildly different ways i react to such things.. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

The most popular pages on Tumblr are about Minecraft, GIFs, and David J. Peterson.

#the wildly different ways i react to such things..

gayofthefae · 6 months

Text

The painting is a perfect plot device because it doesn't just work for the romance. Because, lord knows, we want more of that from Mike's plot in season 5. And the painting beautifully sets that up too. The painting opens a seamless door to Mike's desire to be a hero who is able to save and protect his loved ones who have been constantly endangered.

Will painted him because he loves him and Mike is gonna find that out, yes.

But that painting existed and was used in the first place to shut down Mike from talking about himself as not special and correct his self-view into viewing himself as the hero he wishes to be.

Will sees Mike as a hero. Romantic. But that opens the door to really dive into in season 5 the fact that that is important to Mike. The fact that at his core, Mike just wants to save people.

What a beautiful balance and way to really lead into that all in one: the way we are getting a closer look at Mike and his view of himself and how he wishes he was seen is by someone seeing him that way.

We are gonna learn even more about Mike's mind in season 5 and I am so excited. An expansion on the van scene but not on what Will said, on what Mike said. We skip over that too much. But what Will said was just a setup for season 5 to talk more about what it was in direct response to.

#byler predictions #st predictions #mike wheeler #MIKE WHEELER'S MIND #MIKE WHEELER EXISTING OUTSIDE OF LOVE STORIES #because it isn't that he wants to be loved romantically #he just wants to not feel powerless to help when his loved ones almost DIE a million times #and having someone say 'i don't see you as powerless. what you do without superpowers #with your words #that is wildly helpful and powerful on its own #you're a superhero too just in a different way #" is a great step #showing vs telling #having someone tell us how they feel about him and watching as he reacts showing us that's all he wants to be #and it isn't even about how he's viewed #it's about what he IS #stranger things #van scene

5 notes · View notes

thethingything · 4 months

Text

in regards to that last reblog, it's really weird talking about our OCD because like, there are a lot of things that trigger the contamination aspect of it that I am absolutely fine with in theory but that will make our brain flip its shit if they actually happen.

it reminds me of the thing with our sensory issues where I like certain textures but our body reacts so badly to them and there's just kind of this disconnect between what I want to do and what our body and brain will let me do but with the OCD it's often like "in theory this thing doesn't bother me. in practice it will give me a panic attack, and if I try to get myself to be okay with it it feels wrong even though the way I react currently doesn't feel like me".

it's yet another thing that makes me feel like I don't really fit in this brain and body because the emotions and reactions don't feel like mine, they feel more like something our brain does regardless that just gets overlayed on top of whatever I'm trying to do and overrides however I feel like I would react

#personal #thoughts #🍬 post #vent post #it's not a ''I should react like this'' but a ''the way our brain reacts feels foreign to me and like someone else's reactions entirely''#and depending on how much I focus on it it ranges from feeling kind of uncomfortable to deeply unsettling #it's also specifically a thing that effects everyone in the system in the exact same way #even if we have wildly different feelings about things and ways of handling various stuff #like with other things we respond differently to each other but then this is always the same for every alter #it's not a reaction that's connected to anyone in particular. it happens to whoever's fronting #even if they think ''why is that an issue? I wouldn't react like that if I was handling this'' while not fronting #and it feels equally unnatural to everyone except Lucy who apparently is just kind of used to it and doesn't feel as weird about it

1 note · View note

kaijutegu · 4 months

Text

Alligator Body Language and You, or: How To Know When An Alligator On Social Media is Being Stressed for Views

Alligators are wild animals. Despite the idiotic claims of animal abusers like Jay Brewer, they cannot be domesticated, which means they are always going to react on the same natural instincts they've had for millions of years. Habituated, yes. Tamed, yes. Trained, definitely. Crocodilians can form bonds with people- they're social and quite intelligent. They can solve problems, use tools, and they're actually quite playful. Alligators are also really good at communicating how they're feeling, but to somebody who doesn't spend much time around them, their body language can be a bit mystifying. And it doesn't help when social media influencers are saying shit like this:

That is not what a happy gator looks like.

That's a terrified, furious gator who isn't attacking because the ogre handling her has her in a chokehold. She's doing everything she can to express her displeasure, and he's lying about it because he knows his audience doesn't even know how to think critically about what he's doing. He knows that because his audience doesn't know anything about these animals, he can get away with it. This I think is why I hate him so much- he deliberately miseducates his audience. He knows what he's doing is factually inaccurate, he just doesn't care because attention means more to him than anything else in the world.

Let's change that! Here are two really important lessons for understanding alligator body language on social media.

Lesson 1: Alligators Don't Smile (in fact, most animals don't)

So what's going on in this video? Jay Brewer is aggressively choking his white alligator Coconut while scrubbing algae off of her with a toothbrush. And make no mistake, he is digging into the creature's throat while she is visibly distressed. He claims she's happy- but she's not. He is willfully misrepresenting what this animal is feeling. That's a problem, because people... well, we actually kind of suck at reading other species' body language. The reason for this is that we tend to overlay our own responses on their physical cues, and that's a problem. For example, let's look at an animal with a really similar face to ours, the chimpanzee. Check out Ama's toothy grin!

Wait, no. That's not a happy smile. That's a threat display. When a chimpanzee "smiles," it's either terrified and doing a fear grimace, or it's showing you its teeth because it intends on using them in your face.

How about a dog? Look at my smiling, happy puppy!

Oh wait no, this is a picture of Ryder when he was super overwhelmed by noise and people during a holiday party. He'd hopped up in my sister's lap to get away from stuff that was happening on the floor and was panting quite heavily. See the tension in the corners of his mouth and his eyes? A lot of the time when a dog "smiles," the smile isn't happy. It's stress! Why Animals Do The Thing has a nice writeup about that, but the point is, our body language is not the same as other species. And for reptiles, body language is wildly different.

For instance, look at these two alligators. Pretty cute, right? Look at 'em, they're posing for a Christmas card or something! How do you think they're feeling?

Well, I'll tell you how the normal one is feeling. He's annoyed! Why is he annoyed? Because the albino just rolled up, pushed another gator off the platform, and is trying to push this guy, too. I know this because I actually saw it happen. It was pretty funny, not gonna lie. He's not gaping all the way, but he was hissing- you can actually see him getting annoyed in the sequence I took right before this shot. Look at him in this first shot here- he's just relaxing, and you can see he isn't gaping even a little bit.

By the end, he's expressing displeasure, but not enough to actually do anything about it. He's annoyed, but he's comfy and that's where one of the best basking areas is, so he'll put up with it.

Reptiles open their mouths wide for a lot of reasons, but never because they are actively enjoying a sensation. Unless they're eating. No reptile smiles- they can't. They don't even have moveable lips. If a reptile is gaping, it's doing so because:

It is doing a threat display.

It is making certain vocalizations, all of which are threats. Alligators are one of the rare reptiles that do regularly vocalize, but most of their calls aren't made with a wide open mouth.

It is about to bite something delicious or somebody stupid. Check out this video- virtually all of the gaping here is anticipatory because these trained gators know darn well that the bowl is full of delicious snacks. (I have some issues with Florida's Wildest, but the man knows how to train a gator AND he is honest about explaining what they're doing and why, and all of his animals are healthy and well-cared for, and he doesn't put the public or his staff at risk- just himself.)

youtube

It's too hot and it has opened its mouth to vent some of that heat and thermoregulate. This is the main reason why alligators will often have their mouths part of the way open, but sometimes they'll open all the way for thermoregulation. This is what a thermoregulatory gape looks like- usually it's not all the way open, kinda more like < rather than V, but you can't say that 100% of the time. Additionally, a thermoregulatory gape... typically happens when it's hot out. If they're inside, maybe they've been under their basking light for too long. Heat's the dominant factor, is what I'm getting at.

There is another reason that a captive crocodilian might be gaping, and that's because it's doing so on command. Some places have their gators trained to gape on cue, like St. Augustine Alligator Farm and other good zoos. They have the animals do this in presentations that are genuinely educational. They ask the animals to open their mouths so that they can show off their teeth and demonstrate how their tongues seal off the back of their mouth. They'll also do it as part of routine healthcare, because looking at their teeth is important.

In this case, the animals aren't gaping because they're stressed, they're gaping because they know they're gonna get a piece of chicken or fish if they do it. And what's more, they're doing it on cue. They have a specific command or signal that tells them to open wide. It's not an instinctive response to a situation. It's trained. If the animal provides the behavior after a cue, the situation is much less likely to be negatively impactful.

It's also important to remember that there's a difference between a partially open mouth and a gape! As discussed above, alligators will often have their mouths a little bit open just to maintain temperature homeostasis. It helps them stay comfy, temperature-wise. These guys are all doing thermoregulatory open-mouthed behavior- that slight open and relaxed body posture is a dead giveaway. (That and it's the hottest spot in the enclosure.)

Lesson 2: A Happy Gator Is A Chill Gator

So if alligators don't smile or have facial expressions other than the :V that typically signifies distress, how else can you tell how they're feeling? One way is stillness. See, alligators subscribe to the philosophy of if it sucks... hit da bricks.

Basically, if they hate it, they'll leave. Unless, y'know, somebody has their meaty claws digging into their throat or is otherwise restraining them. (Restraint isn't always bad, btw. Sometimes the animal is going through a medical thing or needs to be restrained for their safety- which a responsible educator will explain.)

Let's look at a very similar scenario, in which a captive alligator is getting his back scrubbed.

As you can see, it's quite different. First, he's not being restrained at all. Second, look at how relaxed he is! He's just chilling there vibing! He could simply get up and leave if he wanted to, because he's not being held. Towards the end of the video, as he lifts his head, you can see that his respiratory rate is very even as his throat flutters a bit. I'm not sure what this facility is, so I can't comment on care/general ethics, but like. In this specific case, this is an alligator enjoying being scrubbed! And you can tell because he's not doing anything. A happy gator is content to be doing what they're doing.

Why Should I Listen To You?

Now, you should ask yourself, why should you listen to me? Why should you trust me, who does not own an alligator, versus Jay Brewer, who owns several?

Well, first off, there's no profit for me in telling you that what you're seeing on social media is in fact not what you're being told you're seeing. I'm not getting paid to do this. That's the thing with people who make social media content. The big names aren't doing it just for fun. They're doing it for money. Whether that's profit through partnerships or sponsorships, or getting more people to visit their facilities, or ad revenue, you can't ignore the factor of money. And this is NOT a bad thing, because it allows educators to do what they're passionate about! People deserve to be paid for the work that they do!

But the problem starts when you chase the algorithm instead of actually educating. A "smiling" alligator gets the views, and if people don't know enough to know better, it keeps getting the views. People love unconventional animal stories and they want those animals to be happy- but the inability to even know where to start with critically evaluating these posts really hinders the ability to spread real information. Like, this post will probably get a couple hundred notes, but that video of Coconut being scrubbed had almost 400,000 likes when I took that screenshot. Think about how many eyeballs that's reached by now. What I'm saying here is that it's just... really important to think critically about who you're getting your information from. What do dissenters say in the comments? What do other professionals say? You won't find a single herpetologist that has anything good to say about Prehistoric Pets, I can tell you that right now.

Another reason you can trust me is that my sources are not "just trust me bro," or "years of experience pretending my pet shop where animals come to die is a real zoo." Instead, here are my primary sources for my information on alligator behavior:

Dragon Songs: Love and Adventure among Crocodiles, Alligators, and Other Dinosaur Relations- Vladimir Dinets

The Secret Social Lives of Reptiles- J. Sean Doody, Vladimir Dinets, Gordon M. Burghardt

Social Behavior Deficiencies in Captive American Alligators (Alligator mississippiensis)- Z Walsh, H Olson, M Clendening, A Rycyk

Social Displays of the American Alligator (Alligator mississippiensis)- Kent Vliet

Social Signals and Behaviors of Adult Alligators and Crocodiles- Leslie Garrick, Jeffery Lang

Never smile at a crocodile: Gaping behaviour in the Nile crocodile at Ndumo Game Reserve, South Africa- Cormac Price, Mohamed Ezat, Céline Hanzen, Colleen Downs (this one's Nile crocs, not American alligators, but it's really useful for modeling an understanding of gape behaviors and proximity)

Thermoregulatory Behavior of Captive American Alligators (Alligator mississippiensis)- Cheryl S. Asa, Gary D. London, Ronald R. Goellner, Norman Haskell, Glenn Roberts, Crispen Wilson

Unprovoked Mouth Gaping Behavior in Extant Crocodylia- Noah J. Carl, Heather A. Stewart, Jenny S. Paul

Thank you for reading! Here's a very happy wild alligator from Sanibel for your trouble.

#reptiblr #alligator #crocodile #Youtube

33K notes · View notes

runicarbiter02 · 1 year

Note

How would each CoD character react to you touching their cheek for the first time? (In a caressing way)

A/N: Oh my god, this is actually the cutest and I couldn't think of a better way to start off this blog, thank you for this, love! I hope you enjoy! ~ Hannah

ALEX KELLER

Oh, this man is absolutely melting the second your hand cups the side of his face.

The goofiest damn grin on his face, corners of his eyes crinkling, soft laugh rumbling in his chest.

"How ya doing, sweetheart? Hanging in there?" Man is always concerned with you and your well-being.

Absolutely is the type of person to just completely nuzzle into your touch, soft sigh of content leaving his lips.

You aren't getting your hand back any time soon. Try and pull away, and he will absolutely pull the kicked puppy look. You can't bring yourself to pull away anyway.

ALEJANDRO VARGAS

"Oh, is there something you need, mi vida?" This motherfucker and his sweet, smooth voice. Love him.

He will gently draw you in close with a hand on your waist, that signature cheeky grin on his lips. He'll gently take your hand in his and just press sweet kisses to your fingertips.

This will lead to him pulling you aside for a moment, peppering you in sweet kisses and showering you in the most endearing compliments in Spanish.

Expect to be walking away with a spring in your step and a flushed face.

GARY "ROACH" SANDERSON

At first, he will look wildly confused, his brows furrowing slightly and his head cocking to the side.

"What's up, hun? Everything okay?" He signs the term of endearment with so much passion every time, it is absolutely the sweetest and most heartwarming thing. Any term of endearment he uses is always signed with more passion than anything else.

Once you let him know you just wanted to love on him, this cheeky little shit is flirting with you like crazy.

"Oh, just wanted to love on me, huh? Well, there's more ways you could-" He cuts his signing off with his own laughter when you playfully shove his face away, and he follows after you, making obnoxious kissy noises.

He makes it up to you, though, with the most affectionate kisses. He's goofy and that reflects in how he shows you his love.

(Can you tell I love Roach? I love him very much.)

JOHNNY "SOAP" MACTAVISH

Johnny will take your other hand, place it on his other cheek, and will gently press your hands against his cheeks to squish his face.

He hums happily, reveling in your touch as his eyes shut and his lips curl into a smile.

"Always know what I need before I even do, mo chridhe." This man is so, so whipped for you. Looks at you with so much love and affection that you might as well melt before him.

Do expect this to end up with you wrapped up in his arms, snuggled close, the Scotsman whispering some of the stupidest jokes known to man to you in an effort to get you to laugh.

JOHN PRICE

I have like a very specific image in mind for this one!

He tends to work himself to the bone, getting lost and caught up in his work, and its very, very hard to get him out of it. It's one of those nights where you find him hunched over his desk, nose buried in his work.

You walk up behind him, gently resting your hand on his cheek and he pauses, tilting his head back to look up at you.

Despite the exhaustion, his expression softens, the tender smile on his face highlighting the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes.

"It's late, isn't it...? Mmm... Alright, dearest, I'll head to bed."

He gently grasps your wrist and tilts his head to press a fleeting kiss to your palm, and then to the pulse point on your wrist. It takes a bit more convincing before he's off to bed.

(I'm a bit biased, I'm a major John Price simp if you couldn't tell.)

KEEGAN RUSS

Look, I firmly believe our resident masked men are softies, but they're all different in terms of their softness.

This man is a softie with you, but good god, is he suave and flirty.

"Mmm, what's up, kid...? Just looking for an excuse to see my face, hm? All you had to do was ask." It should be illegal how much this man's voice sounds like a silky purr.

Soft kisses to your fingers, knuckles, and the back of your palm. Fleeting kisses that barely meet, brushing against your skin and leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake.

"Always so sweet for me, kid."

KÖNIG

(Apparently this man is a colonel? And from what I've seen, if he joined at 18, and if we take the average amount of time it takes to get to that rank... This man is likely in his early 40s. Dilf König? Dilf König.)

Masked man number two! Softie, but different from Keegan. This man is the shy sort of soft.

I imagine this would happen after he shows you his face for the first time. He grew up bullied for his appearance, among other things, and its made him rather insecure about his looks.

When you gently cup the side of his face after studying him for a moment, he heaves a shuddering sigh and averts his gaze shyly. But, the second you tell him how handsome he is, his face goes pink and he flushes shyly.

"Ah, meine Sonne und Sterne... You're going to make me melt." He then proceeds to kiss you softly on the forehead and tells you how much he loves you.

KYLE "GAZ" GARRICK

A pleasant flush works its way onto his cheeks and he gives you that beautiful smile full of sunshine.

"Missed you, lovely. You been taking good care of yourself?" Sweet, heartless man that he is, worrying about you even though he looks exhausted after his most recent mission.

Gently draws you into him and just hugs you tight, pressing his face into the crook of your neck and sighing happily. The second your cologne or perfume washes over him, all tension leaves him completely.

"Missed this. Missed you." Whispered words against your skin. He gently sways in place with you as you two embrace, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head. Fully cherishes the moment.

"How's about some takeout and we finally watch that show you've been talking about? The House of the Dragon, right? Hopefully its better than the last few seasons of Game of Thrones." You have a stellar date in as you binge the entirety of The House of the Dragon and make up for lost cuddling time.

(Gaz does NOT get enough love and it's criminal. Perfect boyfriend/husband material right here. I adore him. Also? Man is absolutely gorgeous? Best man.)

NIKOLAI

(Russian dilf? Yes please! Underrated man right here.)

Late nights in bed, curled up with him are always the sweetest. Soft whispered nothings as you both lay together, skin on skin, fully content in a post sex haze.

He shoots you a lazy grin as you cup his face, his hand gently rubbing up and down the expanse of your back. "What's on your mind, мое солнышко? Laying there looking so stunning..."

Soft, playful kisses are placed along your jaw, a cheeky smirk on his lips when you begin to protest, laughter in your voice.

"One more round wouldn't hurt... We can sleep in tomorrow morning, Золотце." You know damn well you're going to be exhausted in the morning as he takes the time to worship every inch of your skin.

RODOLFO "RUDY" PARRA

(Rudy, my darling, my beloved, my SWEET! This man is also criminally underrated even though he's PERFECT husband material. SHAME!)

He happily returns the favor as you rest your hand against his cheek, his hand cupping your cheek as he rests his forehead against yours.

"Long day, cariño? Mmm, I understand... I'll draw us a bath and we can relax." He takes your hand, pressing sweet kisses to your knuckles before he draws a bath for the both of you.

You both spend most of the evening in the tub, you resting against his back as he holds you close, featherlight kisses pressed to your skin as you both talk about your day.

The both of you take such good care of each other, and there's never less than 100% put into your relationship on both sides.

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY

Masked softie number 3: Tender and longing edition.

His night terrors don't often wake you; he's usually fairly good at hiding them. The first time he does wake you is during a particularly violent one that has him thrashing and crying out in his sleep.

He wakes not long after you do, sweating and panting, his voice hoarse from how much he had been crying out. Once you're sure he's fully conscious, you gently rest your hand against his cheek and guide him through a grounding routine: 5 things he sees, 4 people he knows, 3 foods he likes, 2 things he hates, and one thing he loves.

As he talks, you become his sole focus as the night terror fades into the back of his mind, the grounding method working wonders.

And when it comes to the one thing he loves, he shuts his eyes and presses further into your touch, a few tears streaking down his cheeks. One hand gently clutches your wrist while the other rests against yours, holding your hand against his cheek. He doesn't need to say it. You know.

You always, always know. And with a kiss to his forehead and your thumb stroking against his cheek, you let him know. I love you too.

[I'M SORRY IF ANY OF THE TRANSLATIONS ARE INCORRECT, I TRIED MY BEST TO GET THE PROPER ONES!]

Mi vida - My life; honey

Mo chridhe - My heart

Meine Sonne und Sterne - My sun and stars

мое солнышко - My sunshine

Золотце - Honey; darling

Cariño - Honey; dear

TAGLIST:

@floral-force

6K notes · View notes

bomber-grl · 1 month

Text

Cuddle/Sleep Headcanons 💤🌙

Pairing(s): characters x Gn!reader

Character(s): Percy, Jason, Leo, Frank, Hazel, Annabeth, Piper, Calypso, Ethan, Nico, Octavian, Reyna

Percy Jackson

He’s a horrible sleeper

I mean sure, you can sleep and cuddle like the couple you are

However, that doesn’t stop him from sleeping wildly

Limbs sprawled all over the freaking place and the only reason you know is because of the concerning amount of times you’ve woken up under some of them

To make it worse?

He’s a blanket hogger

He doesn’t rlly hog it in the sense that he steals it all

I mean he does, but he sorta just slides off the bed and takes the rest of the blanket with him

The urge to just 🔫

But yea 😞

Nice to cuddle with but not to sleep with sorry not sorry

6/10

Jason Grace

Kinda stiff ngl

Like damn bitch, you live like this?

Plus he sleeps on his back face up 😭😭😭

Like wtf Jason

Are u ok?

In terms of actually cuddling, he’s pretty good

His arms are firm and his hugs are tight yet comforting

Plus he smells pretty good

Like no joke

I’d kinda see you sleeping on his chest since bro sleeps on his back

It’s nice but the stiffness is not appreciated 🙅

Atleast he’s not a blanket hogger and he’s quite considerate with the blankets and stuff

8/10

Leo Valdez

He sleeps two different ways

The first way is pretty compacted

What I mean is, he sleeps he sleeps bundled up by the blanket in a blanket burrito

The other one is where he sleeps sprawled out, limbs all over the place, blanket discarded

Just like Percy

So when he’s in a blanket burrito best believe he’s taking you with him

He usually does this during winter because he naturally runs hot

Anyway, he pulls you in and kinda bundled the blanket around you two for you guys to cuddle and be as close as possible

But when he’s sprawled out with his limbs everywhere he likes to cuddle with you on top of him

That or you’re abused and crushed by him in your sleep

Plus yknow how he runs hot? Well it’s absolute hell

It’s so hot and honestly suffocating when he’s sleeping on you 💀

Throw him on the ground pls

Ima rate him a 7/10 cuz he ain’t bad and if anything I love him so 🤷

Frank Zhang

He’s the best

Sorta…

He’s obviously huge so

He fully embraces you and hugs you so it’s pretty comfortable

And he sleeps on his side or stomach so there’s plenty of room

Even if he’s a bit stiff he’s still pretty nice to cuddle with

He’s pretty considerate on how you like to sleep/cuddle

He likes holding you so he’s not that picky

Honestly nothing to complain about with him

Except for one thing…

You can’t tell me this guy doesn’t fart 😐

I’m sorry but he just gives me those vibes

And it’s so bad

And not even on purpose either

It just happens but it’s the most traumatic thing ever

He feels pretty bad too 😭

Also when y’all are sleeping you just end up on different sides of the bed

He’s just casually on top of the blanket and you can’t even pull it from under him

You’re left shivering in the cold

Hazel Levesque

I love her 🫶

I see her sleeping on her sides and stomach tbh

She’s so sweet too

She loves to cuddle with you and even tho she doesn’t rlly have a firm grip she still likes to hold you

She especially likes to sleep on you

Either on your chest or just cuddled up to you

And she smells pretty sweet

Like clean laundry too like lawd

But ofc there’s gotta be some downsides

There’s isn’t really none with her, but with you

You end up stealing the blankets and hazel wakes up mad and cranky

That’s all and she quickly forgives you

Annabeth Chase

Sleeps on her back or side

She doesn’t really like cuddling all that much

She prefers to have some space and stuff when she sleeps

But if you want, she’s open to cuddling

She loves to both be held and to hold you

Mostly it’s mutual holding

Plus she probably sleeps with the fan on

Idk how to explain it

If you’re the type to always talk during night time then she’d react differently

Like if you gotta sleep asap cuz of the mission and all you do is yap

Then she’s turning her back on you and ignoring

What a meanie

At least she apologizes the next day but still

I don’t rlly see her stealing the blanket or anything but she is pretty stiff

Like besides hugging and stuff she lowkey just lets you hug her when she doesn’t feel like moving

Mood

Also since she smells good ofc ur gon sniff and she’ll be weirded out and ignore u this way too 😞

Piper McLean

She sleeps anyway tbh

She pretty cuddly and likes to snuggle w you

She usually likes to be held, but either way is fine

Especially after a fight or exhausting time with monsters

She’ll hold you in her arms too

She smells pretty nice and if you say so?

Well she finds it endearing

Unlike a certain someone

*cough cough* annabeth

But yea she’s the best

But she won’t hesitate to kick you out if you refuse to share the blanket

She gets enough crap from Leo

Who is just constantly annoying her

Calypso

The best

Like she fr loves to cuddle

With everything she’s been through best believe she’s the best cuddler

Honestly she sleeps whatever way

She’s another who loves to be held and to hold others

Especially if you’re hurt or anything

Then she’s try and tend to you

Even in sleep

Most times she’s a small spoon

She’s loved so many people who never loved her back

So perhaps she’s just a tad bit touch starved

And would obviously give in to any affection

As previously mentioned she loves to hold you too

Mostly just having you lean on her shoulder or lay on her lap but it also extends to cuddling on occasion

She’ll have you lay on her chest and in her arms and play with your hair

Ethan Nakamura

He’s so stiff it’s painful

(Not actually)

He’s definitely loyal, the books show that much

So despite his personal feelings with touch (he’s no doubt another touch starved person) he’d like to cuddle with you nonetheless

Not much in the beginning but he’d definitely warm up to you

And in the process, realize how much he wants it

He’ll let you love him however you want (cuddle him) and let you play with his hair

Which he loves

Eventually he gets enough courage to reciprocate

But he’s still stiff

Not the best when hugging or cuddling you because of how flustered he gets

Once you two go to bed and he falls asleep, he gets pretty subconsciously protective so he’ll hold you tight

Nico Di Angelo

Yes

Just yes

He loves to cuddle never made it obvious before tho

Another who was pretty stiff and touch starved

He gets over it quickly when he sees what you have to offer

I mean usually he just sleeps bundled up under the blankets, engulfed by their warmth

But with you there he just pulls you under the blankets with him so you can cuddle that way

Is mostly just mutual holding

He mostly just liked to intertwine your legs or hold onto you like a koala

I see him as a blanket stealer when you’re not glued together

He’s either super sleepy or not at all

When he’s tired he just drags you to bed, since that’s the only time nightmares don’t plague him

But when hes suffering from his insomnia he likes it when you stay up and talk with him

Idk to him it feels intimate but if you choose to go to bed, he won’t take it personally

If you play with his hair he won’t admit it but he loves it

Octavian

Ew.

Sorry I hate him but seeing that you’re here, you probs love him

So let’s get this over w

He’s rlly long and lanky and boney

Doesn’t stop yall from cuddling tho ig

And like a weirdo he sleeps on his back, arms to his side, head facing upward

Honestly probably obsessed with you

Only way he’d cuddle/ be in a relationship with you

He’s probably never been touched by another person

So he definitely likes to be held

Plus the bastard is selfish

And he doesn’t hold you

😐…

Yea so 1/10

I’m being generous

Reyna Ramirez-Arellano

I love her 😭🫶🫶

Yea she probs love you so ofc she’s gonna cuddle w u

Often times she’s busy with the duties of praetor so she can’t cuddle 😞

But it’s ok cuz when she can it’s the best

Not only is she holding you and making you feel cared after

But she also plays with your hair

Also you have to hold her

I don’t make the rules, just look at her, she needs it

When you do she’s a bit put off

But eventually she lets you coddle her

So more often than not she’s little spoon and comfortable

Just like she deserves

Yes beautiful

9/10

————————-

Note: I just realized Reyna is a hunter now idk why I even wrote hers 😭 maybe pre-hunter Reyna or lesbian Reyna??? Idk man

565 notes · View notes

noodlesarecheese · 1 month

Text

So Watcher is launching a Dropout (it's not called Dropout but they're clearly using the same template format platform thing idk what it's called, and the same pricing structure), and the reaction so far has been wildly different than what I remember from Dropout's launch. I was curious about why that was or if I was just misremembering the Dropout launch, so I went back to the Dropout launch video to compare them and I think I can see where some of the difference is coming from.

If you want to make the comparison yourself: Watcher's Video, Dropout's Video.

I wanna clarify first though that this isn't a knock against Watcher or the fans who are reacting one way or another or anything like that, I genuinely am just fascinated with how different the reactions are to what seems to be the same business decision. This also isn't a 'wow watcher sucks and dropout is so much better' I'm just using them for comparison because they did the same thing with different results. ALSO this isn't about the business decision itself, just the presentation! Disclaimers out of the way, here's the analysis.

Title and Thumbnail So the Watcher.tv announcement video is titled "Goodbye Youtube" and the thumbnail is Ryan, Shane, and Steven sitting on a couch looking serious, with a dark background. That really makes it seem like they're quitting (which, ok, they are quitting youtube but not quitting quitting). Viewers are already primed to be upset, and it's easier to go from upset to angry than upset to excited, curious, or neutral.

Compare to the dropout announcement video: "How the Internet is Ruining Comedy" - inline with other collegehumor video titles, might make you curious. Thumbnail - Big News! with Sam smiling and a bright background. We know its big news, but he looks happy, and the exclamation point let's us know they want us to be excited. Viewers are primed to be curious and excited.

Tone The Watcher announcement has 2 main tones. The first half is very sentimental, almost sad or wistful at times, and while there are parts that veer into pride at achievements, it's mostly bittersweet and sentimental. The second half is a bit more uplifting, but still quite serious. It reminded me of a tech announcement, like when they introduce the new iphone or something like that. Very professional, sleek, and serious, which isn't automatically a bad thing! But I do think that's not the vibe a decently-sized chunk of the audience expected or wanted. Many people watch Watcher for the cast's dynamic with each other, humor, and the more relaxed/conversational/friendly feel that most of the series have.

Compare to dropout - excited and comedic tone. Still professional, but also fits the expectations of the viewers. People watch collegehumor for the humor (it was in the name, after all). They also poke a bit of fun at themselves, which lightens the mood, shows self-awareness, and alleviates some of the bad feelings about paywalling.

Focus The Watcher announcement focuses a lot on the creative journey of the cast and company, as well as how this move will benefit them. Which isn't a bad thing, that's actually quite interesting! The problem here, I think, is actually more about what isn't here - a solid explanation of how this will also benefit the viewers and why the viewers should be excited. There's a brief description of one new show, and the promise that existing shows will get an upgrade, but we weren't given many specific details about how they'll be improved, and there's only one new show to tempt us into subscribing. Some people will be excited for that, some people won't, and some people will be excited but not enough to subscribe. Having 2 or 3 series (even if it's 1 fleshed out plus a few teasers of what's in production or what is being planned) plus some more details about how existing shows will be improved would've helped. Without that, it really does seem like it'll just be the same stuff viewers were getting for free, but now paywalled, rather than new and exciting stuff. That makes a big difference. I think with the fans not getting as much focus, this also led to some (accidental, I hope) hurt feelings. Based on what I've seen from fan reactions, all the talk about hitting the peak of what they can do on youtube and wanting more, translated for many people to 'youtube isn't enough' which became 'you (the current viewers) aren't enough.' Which I don't think was their intent! But I also don't think fans are wrong for feeling hurt by that.

Compare to dropout: They clearly explain how the move will benefit fans, and reassure viewers that existing content will stay where it is, and only new content will be behind the paywall. (Watcher clarified this too, but in a comment. It's not in the video itself, which is a huge problem.) They include clips of several new (at the time) series that would be premiering on dropout, including things that specifically could not be made on youtube (due to weed, violence, and sexual humor), so the reason for the shift is clear to the audience.

Advertisers Both videos contain the sentiment that being monetarily successful on youtube means working to appease the advertisers, and that over time what the advertisers want and what the creators want drifts further and further apart, putting strain on the creators.

However, I think the message gets lost a bit in the Watcher vid. Instead, it leaves viewers with the idea that the main problem is just ads are annoying instead of advertisers putting constraints on content. I'm not even sure what the specific constraints are for watcher, because they didn't give any examples. And the focus on ads being annoying leaves viewers frustrated because people typically either don't mind ads or they already have an ad blocker.

Timing and Size Okay, this isn't exactly about presentation, but it is still a factor that impacts perception so I'm tackling it. And I'm actually going to do dropout first. CollegeHumor launched dropout in September 2018. Pre-pandemic, but also pre-Sam Reich as CEO. The company was still owned by IAC. It was a Company, and while it wasn't huge it wasn't tiny either. So launching dropout was a Company Decision, a Business Strategy. Some people were upset about, but it wasn't a personal betrayal (generally, anyways). If I remember correctly, this was also not a high point for the company. They kinda needed dropout to do well to keep things running smoothly (which is why they shut it down and sold it to Sam just 1 1/2ish years later), so the sudden shift made sense.

Watcher Entertainment is a company, but it doesn't feel like one. Ryan, Shane, and Steven own and operate things, but they're also the faces, and they're youtubers. Which makes every business decision they make feel more personal to viewers, especially those who have been watching for a long time. They've also seemingly been doing well on youtube, which makes it more difficult for viewers to understand why the sudden change is happening now. They do talk a bit about it, about the company expanding and wanting to do things that advertisers don't like (which I've already covered). However, mostly the choice to start a streaming platform is framed as 'the next big step' without much clarification on why it's the next big step. Plus, it's post-pandemic, and a lot of people are still struggling financially with the ripple effects of that. Yes, $6 isn't a wild amount of money, but there have been some months where $5 absolutely meant the difference between paying all my bills or not, and I know I'm not the only one. This, coupled with a lack of clarity about why exactly they're doing this, leads to fans feeling hurt, betrayed, bitter, and frustrated.

Now, presentation and framing isn't everything. No matter how perfect your announcement is, some people are still going to be upset. It's a big change, of course people will be upset! But I do think a more careful presentation would've alleviated some of the hurt and anger that fans are feeling. While I do think a lot of the reaction we're seeing is due to the decision, I think (based on what I've seen) that some of it is also based on the poor communication in the video itself, and that could've been avoided!

So I'm gonna get a little speculative and describe what I would've done. In this hypothetical, they've decided to launch the streaming service and brought me on just for the announcement.

Firstly, switch the title out. If they're married to Goodbye Youtube then add a (and hello...?) after so it's at least obvious they aren't fully quitting. The dark color scheme of the thumbnail fits their regular vibe, but they want everyone to be excited so they should look excited. Next, let's lighten the tone up. Being proud of what they've done so far is great, but we don't need the sentimental music and bittersweetness. Remember, the goal is to get viewers excited about what come's next - so let's focus on what actually comes next! Talk about specific show plans and mention why they wouldn't work on youtube. Then, take some time to reassure the fans. Predict a few likely worries and address them in the video. Acknowledge that it's a big change, that it will take time to get used to, and that not everyone will be onboard, and let the fans know that it's ok if they aren't onboard.

Like I said, this wouldn't fix everything. There are a few differences in between dropout and watcher that don't have anything to do with presentation. Dropout launched with primarily new shows rather than new seasons of existing shows, and they continued uploading to youtube relatively regularly in addition to the content behind the paywall, which I do think went a long way to keeping fans happy. At this point it's unclear if watcher will do either of those or not. But, while I don't think it would fix everything, I do think improved communication in the announcement would've helped.

#watcher #feel free to share your own thoughts but please be nice #I just like communication ok! And I really enjoyed the 1 marketing class I took in college #and it's pretty rare that you get such a clear comparison between 2 unrelated companies!

329 notes · View notes

teamatsumu · 4 months

Note

I read the alpha sukuna stuff and the apex alpha ushijima headcanon you posted so let me say this: apex alpha sukuna

Oh my god, you’re so right. Just imagine he says some shit like-

“They don’t make ‘em like me anymore.”

You roll your eyes because oh my god, of course he says something corny like that. But you know there is truth behind his words. Apex Alphas were an extinct breed. They had not existed for many centuries, and Sukuna happened to be centuries old. So he was, by all means, the last living Apex Alpha. They truly didn’t make them like him anymore.

And it showed. Despite inhabiting the body of a regular Alpha, Sukuna’s presence was unmistakable. He had an aura about him, despite being absent most of the time (since Yuuji was the one actually in control), but being around Yuuji meant your nerves would constantly be shot. Somehow, the Omega in you knew Sukuna was there. His scent often overpowered Yuuji’s. To the point that despite Yuuji talking and laughing next to you, your body temperature would be off as hell, and you knew you were reacting to the thing inside him.

The real kick in the gut was that the bastard knew. He knew the effect he had on you. And you knew he was going to goad you with that knowledge when a mouth appeared on Yuuji’s cheek, sharp teeth and huge grin, talking about how a ‘sweet little omega’ like you needed a mighty strong Alpha, and not the pussies that existed in today’s day and age. Yuuji would sigh tiredly and slap a hand on it, apologizing for how rude and vulgar Sukuna was. But there was something about the way he spoke that almost turned you on. Like he truly wanted you.

You find yourself lying down late at night and wondering what it would be like to have an Apex Alpha take care of you. It had to be a wildly different experience, considering just how much Sukuna differed from Yuuji. The thought alone makes your body hot, makes you sweat, having nothing but big, pure Alpha on you, fucking the soul out of you and then knotting you until you couldn’t take it anymore.

So can you really be blamed when you cry out for him during your next heat? And can you really be blamed when it turns out that the cry of an Omega is exactly what Sukuna needs to take control of Yuuji’s body and give you exactly what you want?

#💭 late night ruminating #✌🏼 fatima answers #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #sukuna x you #alpha sukuna #a/b/o #jjk a/b/o #alpha x omega #omega reader #omegaverse

553 notes · View notes

anantaru · 11 months

Text

ARE YOU DEAF, OR JUST STUPID?

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — visiting a club at night wasn't something scaramouche would normally agree on, but when someone asks if you're single all of a sudden, the night appeared to become all the more eventful.

— ꒰ word count ꒱ — 800 words

— ꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff & crack, he's a jealous man with a dream, gn! reader

the hefty, immersive atmosphere encompassing your body was erratic, shining and full of lucent light.

you can perceive the differences in scents colliding with each other in the humid air of the underground club you were currently visiting as your boyfriend scaramouche was anything else but delighted to be here.

at least you're with him, but he simply doesn't get the appeal of being ringed in between infuriating, boring, pesky little humans having fun.

indeed, he has been playing the grumpy card for the majority of the time, fairly speaking, 'grumpy' was a comical understatement.

most of all, he cannot even convince himself to go out, don't even mention manipulating himself into thinking he likes it. because what's there to like? the noisy crowd or the blaring music blasting into his poor ears with people wildly shaking their bodies to the pesky tune, including you— who thankfully was only having eyes for him, also gleefully dancing and swaying your body as your boyfriend only watched;

stone-cold features not moving a muscle, unbothered and ready to go home again.

but then, the atmosphere changes when you feel someone tap on your shoulder, "sorry if this is weird." you flinch immediately by surprise, noticing the man behind you as you pull your head aside to face him.

"but are you single pretty?"

ugh, double ugh.

yet if you were being quite honest with yourself now, you're already laughing and were feeling just a little bad for the random guy asking you such a question not knowing what storm he had just conjured— because he does not even see that scaramouche was also standing next to you, mouth tight and swallowing, clearly not pleased by that insignificant insect, as he called him, bothering his partner while having fun.

"what?" scaramouche doesn't waste a single breath and spits out immediately, right away cutting you off the conversation entirely and inserting himself into the middle of you and the stranger so he couldn't bother you anymore, even if he tried. "what did you say?"

"w-wait, who are you?" the stranger forces a smile on his tensed face, strikingly irritated.

"are you deaf?" well, again, to make things clear, you should maybe pray to the archons now, clearly not for your boyfriend but for the odd man there. if it wasn't this hilarious. but you silently tug on scaramouche's arm to signal him that it was in fact, okay, and you could simply handle this alone, but you would also lie to yourself if you'd say that it wasn't cute, quite charming too, of him to be this animated, let alone protective right now.

scaramouche feels his throat tighten but doesn't let any anger run down, it's pointless and he would only make people notice him even more. "i don't want any troubles." the man silences down, feeling a warm, embarrassing hotness on his neck and his shoulders shrug inwards, because how possibly couldn't he react that way?

presently, he was being watched up and down, up and down, closely, with those indigo eyes boring sharp, burning daggers into his flesh and bones. "then you better leave."

"because there's no one single here, leave." scaramouche takes a step forward, "do you i have to spell it out for you or are you just that stupid?"

you could've sworn you heard a little 'no' leaving past the guys lips, yet the irksome stranger ultimately decided to take a haste leave instead, thankfully, but not before awkwardly glancing towards you and back to scaramouche, grinning through his tensed mouth, as if not knowing how to possibly tackle a situation like that, ever.

"you didn't have to do this, you know." you sneakily whisper into scaramouche's ear, "but then." and you begin to ponder dramatically in front of him, wrapping your arms around his body as you perceived his muscles lose on tension, "i wouldn't have been able to see this cute side of you."

what followed next was quite a sight to behold— that sicken, repulsed look on scaramouche face was award worthy, the best one in all of teyvat, but you loved that about him and place a soft, pleasing kiss on his parted lips before he was able to say anything back.

"i'm not cute." yet his response brushes over your lips regardless, his warm breath coating your own while he leaned into your warmth, gracefully accepting your candied kisses that were his treasured favorites.

"lets leave this place before i track that sucker down."

#scaramouche x reader #genshin x reader #genshin Impact x reader #scaramouche x you #genshin x you #genshin Impact x you #scaramouche x y/n #genshin impact scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you #Genshin Impact drabbles #genshin drabbles #Genshin Impact scaramouche

1K notes · View notes

cinnbar-bun · 5 months

Text

Ace x Reader General HCs

Rating: SFW + NSFW (separated)

GN Reader

You can read on my AO3 here!

SFW

A loveable goofball who is like a puppy around you. It’s adorable but also, everyone in the Whitebeard Pirates roasts the hell out of him for how whipped he is for you.

He has many different ways of reacting to you, depending on his mood, but there are a few sides that are common.

Puppy Dog: Full blown puppy, golden retriever energy. He’s at your every beck and call and with a dopey smile on his face as he stands beside you. So happy and eager, and nary a frown in sight as he wants to cuddle and hug you lots.

Flustered/Shy: This happens occasionally when you act forward with him/he’s caught off guard. He will turn the prettiest shade of red and his jaw will drop as he looks at you. Often mumbles and whines while covering his mouth. His face burns brighter if you or the other members bring it up.

Smooth Operator: Unlike the other times when he turns into a tomato or suddenly becomes a dog, this is when he decides to “play” with you a bit. Sometimes teases you and whispers sweet-nothings in your ear. At this stage, he’s at his A-game and can handle whatever you throw at him (whether it’s your cute smile or flirting). Super into PDA and doesn’t react much besides laughing if the others tease him.

But regardless of what “side” of him appears, it’s always obvious how much he loves you. Marco jokingly asks when the wedding is and Whitebeard gruffly says he will host the biggest celebration for your wedding.

Side note: if you two do actually go through with a wedding- Whitebeard doing his best to stay composed while a singular tear drops down his cheeks as you and Ace get married. He’s the proudest papa ever.

Ace gets pouty and annoyed often if your attention is elsewhere. It’s never obsessive or intruding, but more like a “aw, and I thought you loved me,” type of joke where he wants a kiss on the cheek to “make him feel better”.

Loves when you wear his hat and pose with it.

Ace, despite his free nature, really does appreciate how you take care of him and ground him. Lord knows he jumps headfirst into things without thinking, so having you there is his reminder to take his life a bit more seriously.

Sometimes, Ace questions how he got so lucky to have you in his life. It was just by chance you two met, but every day he feels blessed knowing he’s got you. Occasionally, he wonders if you’d ever leave him for someone “better”, but then you give him that smile and all his fears melt away.

Seriously, not joking, Ace’s favorite part of you is your smile. Your smile is gorgeous. Your smile is everything. Especially when you two are sailing together, or watching the sunset, or under a starry sky, he’s entranced by you. You have his whole heart, and when he sees you smile, he’s reminded of how badly he wants to explore the world with you and protect you. You’re his reason to keep fighting and living.

NSFW

When it comes to sex, Ace is eager. He’s not Sanji-levels of desperate, but if you’re offering, he’s taking it at any opportunity.

Does not mind if it’s in public, on the floor, outside, in the back of an alley- if he’s having sex with you he doesn’t care.

Ass man. Loves ass, loves your ass. He wants to bite your ass, spank your ass, eat your ass, fuck your ass- he just loves your booty.

Also, if you wanted to eat his ass, hey, he ain’t complaining, either. You can do him in the ass as well!

Major switch energy. He doesn’t mind being either the top or the bottom, because sex with him honestly just always ends up becoming you two mindlessly and energetically moving against each other.

He’s very sloppy when it comes to sex. Not exactly in a bad way, but Ace is so eager to get it on with you that he’s just so wild and crazy in bed. Will go round after round just thrusting wildly into you. He loses some of his brain cells whenever he has sex with you, and just reverts to his base desires.

The “sides” to him from the SFW portion apply here, too. Sometimes he will happily go at it with you and make stupid jokes. Sometimes he will be a blushing, whimpering mess as you have him on all fours, other times he will be whispering in your ear how good you feel while his fingers are caressing your lower half.

Ace truly brings the heat during sex, no part of you will be untouched or unloved when you’re with him. He’s in love with your body and every part of you.

He does like certain aspects of roleplay, but he’s not too big on it. If you wore an outfit or made him wear one, that’s probably as far as it goes alongside a few quips before he’s moaning and yelling how amazing your ass feels.

Also not too heavily into complete domination or submission. He doesn’t do well with mixing kinks into your daily lives, so he’s not going to be one to establish or follow “rules” or demand any expectation from you that you must follow outside of the bedroom. He’s pretty go-with-the-flow so he’d rather just have sex whenever ya’ll feel like it whatever way you two want it.

Not too into heavily degradation. He can use some basic words like “whore” or “brat”, whatever, but he doesn’t find degrading you enjoyable for him. He loves you too much to truly degrade you, and most of his dirty talk is lewd praise. He also doesn’t care for being heavily degraded back.

Now, praise? This boy has the biggest praise kink ever. Call him a “good boy” or compliment his body and he’ll have a proud look on his face as he continues to pleasure you. Seriously, praise him- you won’t regret it!

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece smut #one piece hcs #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #ace x reader #ace #x reader

481 notes · View notes

slowlymyavenue · 3 months

Text

The Brainwashing Bed

Based on a true* story.

*hypnotically induced

The title gives this one away just a bit, don't you think? This one may receive some revisions, like several of my recent posts. We'll see.

Consider your bed. Lay down, if you like.

It's comfortable, I hope. You spend an awful lot of time in it...although, probably not as much as you'd like. That's common. Few of us get enough sleep, these days. But let's focus on the bed itself.

A good bed is the right balance of soft and firm, providing a certain measure of support along with a certain degree of cushion. Everyone has a slightly different preference on this, sure, but the idea remains universal: your bed has to have the right balance.

Beyond that, it should keep you warm - but not too warm - and cozy. Pillows and blankets and comforters and all those nice accessories help with this, that's true. Your bed may be any of several different compositions, ranging pretty wildly in cost. It could be one of the larger investments in your home.

But underneath all that variability, the goal is shared. A good bed helps you sleep. You feel safe in it; it's easy to get comfortable, relax, and enjoy the way it feels.

This makes it the ideal delivery mechanism for a particular experiment of mine...not that I'd modify your bed, of course. The experiment is a fun one to discuss, however, so indulge me a bit, won't you?

I thought you might.

Consider your bed, with a subtle shift in purpose. It remains primarily designed to keep you comfortable, warm, and safe, but there is an additional function hidden beneath. There is an intent to guide that relaxed version of you into a state of compliance, submission, obedience. In short, something has been done to your bed so that it will help brainwash you.

It's perfect, really, don't you think? All the necessary components are present already. Your brain associates the bed with comfort, safety, relaxation, sleep...so the bed need only be given the smallest degree of capacity to guide that state in a different direction.

It varies from bed to bed, as most experiments vary from person to person. Some are given a device that emits a low pulsing vibration: soothing, inexorable. Others receive the less-tame form of a heating pad: penetrating warmth to relax the body and melt the mind. Still others find an almost imperceptible static sound surrounding them at bedtime: slowly overpowering the sound of your own thoughts.

But it wouldn't be very scientific of me to reveal which one you'd get, would it? You'd expect the effect and react accordingly. If I were going to make those modifications, your bed would receive all of those upgrades...and perhaps more.

Like I said, though, I wouldn't do that. Well, not unless you volunteered for the experiment, or really really really wanted me to do it. What other things would I change about your bed? Good question.

Subtle is the goal at first. You shouldn't notice anything immediately; it needs to take awhile. You'd find it more difficult to think, of course, and you'd feel more willing to accept my words without a second thought. Would you be able to distinguish that from simple drowsiness, though? Would it be too late by the time you did?

That's the idea. Your bed knows you, in a way, spending so much time together with you. It's fairly straightforward to use that knowledge to make the correct alterations. I like to provide a sense of intent, as if the bed itself wants you to surrender. If you were, somehow, part of the test group, your bed would be able to slip restraints over your legs without your perception of it.

What's that? Are your legs bound? Interesting.

It's important to relax, still, so you'd find it extremely difficult to struggle against the restraints. Whatever means of influence the bed has been enhanced with would be dedicated to keeping your body as close to limp as possible. Your mind, well, that follows naturally with your body. Heaviness makes it hard to think.

Besides, there'd be no time to really focus on your predicament before the bed entered the programming phase. That's where the design truly shines, if I do say so myself.

You see, we both know you've pleasured yourself in bed; it knows that, too. It knows the method you use most, the way your body moves, the sounds you make, the toys you've tried...all of it. All I have to do is provide it with the means to stimulate your body; it could already have your legs restrained, and spread. Oh, there are also restraints for your thighs, hips, torso, arms, and even your head. Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself, thrashing about, now would we?

The restraints can be selective, yes. The primary purpose is still to keep you comfortable (and perhaps you aren't even in bed yet, only learning about the experiment and deciding whether to participate). You'll be bound only as tightly as needed, or wanted.

What happens then? Programming phase requires you to be more receptive than usual, so you'd be stimulated accordingly. The bed has new attachments for that in case you aren't able to move: vibrators attached to arms attached to pistons and springs whirring to life between your legs, pheromone emitters beneath or inside your pillows to flood your body with instinctive heat and lust, cables to connect to your headphones and override the sounds, maybe even a gag to slip into your slightly open mouth if you tend to get loud when you pleasure yourself.

In early stages of testing, the bed simply used the influence methods - sound, vibration, warmth - to compel you to pleasure yourself. You've felt the urge before, I suspect, even before the upgrade. Simple, but very potent. It's okay, if the restraints weren't comfortable, you'll be free to touch yourself -or- use the attachments.

Once you begin to feel the pleasure from whatever source, the bed begins to feed you instructions. These are typically echoes of my words, mantras, coupled with flashes of obedience, submission, and surrender. If the restraints seemed too excessive, you'd be touching yourself while these compulsions are fed to your relaxed, compliant brain. If the restraints were necessary, the bed would be stimulating you just the way it knows you like.

The beauty of the design is that you are naturally fairly helpless when you're in bed, especially if you've been appropriately relaxed, restrained, or otherwise subdued. The brainwashing is able to flow freely into your receptive head, and by the time you've been brought to orgasm - by your own hand, or by the bed itself - you're simply...sleepy.

Because the bed, of course, is still meant to guide you to sleep. The entire programming phase, it would be draining you as much as needed. Drifting off becomes a bit of a foregone conclusion, by then.

Does the stimulation continue even after you fall asleep? Of course. Additional programming is fed to your sleeping self, even as the bed resumes its more innocuous disguise while the night goes on. Some subjects forget the brainwashing bed by the time they awaken. Others remember clearly and are drawn to it, eager to surrender again.

That's the real experiment, you see. I wouldn't modify your bed like we've discussed, unless I already have. I seem to have misplaced my notes, so who knows?

Do you have a brainwashing bed? Do you feel it calling?

Or are you already bound and being brainwashed as we discuss it?

Either way, as always, enjoy.

309 notes · View notes

redhoodinternaldialectical · 7 months

Text

Every time I learn something new about Batman: War Games I lose my mind a little bit more cause just, just fuckin, look okay so here's the thing:

Stephanie Brown tries to implement a contingency plan of Bruce's just after he fires her from being Robin and because of that gets tortured to (almost) death and no one knows she survived.

THIS STORY RUNS IN THE NEWS:

So, you know, anyone who might be paying even half a fucking ounce of attention to news about ROBINS would definitely absolutely notice this!!!

And then very very soon afterwards Jason comes back and specifically targets Black Mask to ruin the criminal empire he tortured Stephanie to get

As a way to torment Bruce about the fact that he doesn't take care of the nastiest criminals and they continue killing people

And how Jason should have been the last to die

and SOMEHOW

these two things are in no way related and Jason has nothing to do with or say about Stephanie Brown, fellow Robin, fellow martyred soldier, fellow child dead due to Bruce related villains.

HOLY DEAD SIDEKICKS BATMAN, DO YOU COMPREHEND THE MAGNITUDE OF MISSED OPPORTUNITIES HERE????

please walk with me down a timeline in which:

Lost Days Jason at first just tries to go after the Joker and can't because who he's really mad at is Bruce.

Then he sees Who Really Killed Stephanie Brown and the utter horror of another Robin dying on Bruce's watch (not just dying, but tortured to death!) is what convinces him to try to straight up kill Bruce via car bomb

Roman Sionis is no longer merely a tool against Batman, but another figure to demand vengeance be brought upon, another attempt to give Bruce a chance to right his wrongs and do what needs to be done

The confrontation with him and the Joker being all the more tragic due to how obvious Bruce's answer would have to be once Jason knows Bruce isn't going to avenge Stephanie either

Does Jason, once he escapes the rubble after UtRH is over, kill Black Mask anyways? Does he decide to avenge her himself? Or does he think that she too would demand that of Bruce, and find his death by a different hand unsatisfactory?

If he doesn't kill Black Mask, then when Steph is back, I feel confident he approaches her, tries to reach out to the other dead Robin, almost certainly makes the offer now that he can ask her. Does she take him up on it, gaining an ally and slipping into a far darker role? Does she instead refuse, either appealing to forgiveness or far more interestingly refusing both vengeance and forgiveness? How would Jason handle a refusal, which I gut instinct feel is more likely?

If he does kill Black Mask, then when Steph is back Jason drops his corpse at her feet like a loving housecat with a dead lizard and she has to grapple with her feelings about having someone really and truly avenge her!!! Like how DO you react to someone who you have been warned is wildly dangerous and mentally unstable coming up to you and saying, "I'm glad you're back, like me. I'm sorry you're back, like me. I made sure you could rest knowing he was dead, because I know what it feels like."

Like no matter how each character reacted to this happening there would be so much high stakes emotional shit to explore with both of them!! Revenge I feel like is such a pivotal thing for both characters, they mirror each other in so so many ways, they could be really interesting together if DC would just fucking let them!!!

Jason had a criminal father who he missed and wanted to avenge. Stephanie had a criminal father who she wanted vengeance on.

Jason started off as a fairly gentle soul who progressively became more violent and more hopeless as he was exposed to genuine horrors during his time as Robin. Stephanie starts off violent, angry and rash and finds her own courage and hope through her time as a crime fighter despite of the horrors she's been through.

Jason went to Africa and died there after Bruce failed to save him. Stephanie was taken to Africa via a fake death in order to save her from Bruce and the vigilante lifestyle.

I just...

There's just...

There's SO MUCH HERE I am genuinely fucking confused as to how this is not all deliberate?? And it's all just left on the cutting room floor because for no reason apparent to me they all just decided Stephanie and Jason were not gonna interact!

AAGHHHH!

#jason todd #stephanie brown #dc comics #damian's tomfoolery

535 notes · View notes

ginnsbaker · 14 days

Text

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (11/?)

Part Summary: You listen, and her reasons make sense, but they don't ease the tightness gripping your heart. Knowing how well Leigh understands the control she holds over you leaves you feeling exposed, almost humiliated. It feels manipulative, whether she intended it or not.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6.300+ | Warnings: Angst | Author's note: Buckle up you guys.

You've never looked at Leigh this way before.

Not even when she confronted you months ago, a formidable presence with a devastating revelation that shattered what you thought was a straightforward affair with a single man. Not even when she accused you of lying, or when she consistently made things difficult for you.

Now, you look at her as if she's an entirely different person. And from the way you fall back, it's obvious you don't particularly like what you see. Leigh hadn't realized just how painful it could be to be looked at in such a way. With each of your steps, panic swells inside her. Though you're only a few feet away, it feels as if you've drifted oceans apart. She can't reach you, and the growing distance makes her fear she never will.

“What did you say?” you repeat slowly, each syllable dropping like a stone—deliberate and heavy.

Your eyes, hard and cold, fix on her. It’s an unsettling sight; she'd almost prefer your anger. Anger, at least, is a familiar adversary, a clear-cut emotion she has long helmed and appeased within herself. She understands anger, knows how to quell it, how to unravel it into something resembling forgiveness or at least a truce. But this wounded belief—she doesn’t know what to do with it. It doesn’t want loud arguments or quick fixes. Instead, it seems to demand something she finds far harder to give: an explanation of motives she's not sure she fully understands herself.

“Your eyes are... enthralling?” Leigh stammers out, her voice quivering slightly as she attempts some self-preservation. She regrets the words as soon as they slip out, sounding hollow and clumsy to her own ears.

You don't laugh, or even react much at all, except to say, “You know that's not what I'm talking about.”

Leigh’s heart sinks a bit more. She winces, shaking her head, realizing the frivolous comment has fallen flat, doing nothing to undo the damage. In the end, she can’t bring herself to say what she knows you want to hear.

“After all this time, how…? How do you know about that nickname?” you ask, maintaining a façade of indifference though you can feel the cracks forming.

“I work for the website,” Leigh says, her eyes dropping to the floor when she hears you take in a sharp breath. “I used to run the advice column there. But when Matt died, I couldn't handle it anymore and I left.” She stops for a moment, her gaze flickering back to you, searching for a reaction, but you remain silent, your expression unreadable.

“They brought me back recently, just as a contributor. I wasn't sure how to tell you. It's part of how I'm trying to move on, getting back into writing, even though it feels different now,” she adds somberly.

“So, did you just read my entries and figure out it was me from what I wrote?” you ask, your voice low and uncertain.

Leigh swallows dryly, steeling herself for what she has to say next. “Not only did I read your entries,” she admits slowly, her voice a whisper of trepidation, “but I was the one replying to them.”

After her confession, Leigh struggles to meet your eyes. Her ears are filled with the loud rush of her heartbeat, thumping wildly as the seconds tick by without a word from you. Time seems suspended, and when you don't speak, move, or give any indication of your thoughts, dread begins to creep into the edges of her mind.

“I was going to tell you,” Leigh murmurs, the words barely escaping her lips. Your arms cross over your chest, sealing yourself off even more. She feels you slipping further away, when just moments earlier, you had been kissing the life out of her, as if trying to breathe her in.

This can’t be happening, Leigh thinks. It just can’t.

“When?” you scoff. “When you’re… what? Done with your revenge?”

Leigh’s brow furrows at the accusation. “Revenge?”

“Isn’t that what this is about?” you ask, retreating until your back meets the wall, leaning heavily against it. Leigh notices the fatigue etched into your features, as if the realization that she knew about your submissions and was the one responding to them is more than you can bear.

“I don’t—”

“Payback for what went on between me and Matt?”

“Y/N,” Leigh utters your name hard, like a deity in her prayers. “You’re misunderstanding this—”

“Am I?” you challenge, your voice rising. You don't care if the neighbors hear; you’ve never met any of them anyway. “I remember a ‘Gigi Herrel’ advising me to move on, to meet other people, to pursue someone else—”

Your words become stuck in your throat as you realize that ‘Gigi Herrel’ is an anagram for ‘Leigh Greer.’ How could you have missed it? How could you have been so blind?

Leigh aches to reach out to you, to touch you and reassure you that she never meant any harm, that her intentions were never what you're accusing her of. But her hands remain at her sides, afraid you might recoil or push her away. She worries that one wrong move could drive you away for good.

“I never meant to hurt you. Please, Y/N,” she begs, her voice trembling with an urgency neither of you thought she was capable of. “I was trying to protect you—from myself. I’m a mess, Y/N. I’ve been a mess since Matt…” Leigh trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

“You thought toying with my feelings was protection?”

“I wasn’t!” Leigh objects forcefully.

You slump to the ground, your strength giving out as a sharp, nail-like pain spreads through your head. You bury your face in your hands, fingers pressing into your temples, while Leigh sits across from you, her hands nervously twisting together.

Quietly, you voice your frustrations. “If it wasn't a game, then why do I feel like I've been losing all this time? Things would be fine between us, and then suddenly, you'd ignore me. My texts went unanswered, my messages unseen for days. It felt like you weren't even treating me right as a friend. I'd drive myself crazy wondering if I said something wrong or did something wrong… It feels like I'm always walking on eggshells. So, if it wasn't a game, tell me you didn't do those things on purpose. Because if not, then you were awful to me without even trying. You know that, right?”

Leigh's eyes brim with remorse. She quickly wipes at her eyes before a tear can fall, trying to maintain her composure in front of you.. “I would never play games with you,” she implores. “I've been in pieces for so long that I've forgotten what it means to be whole. When I found out about your feelings, I didn’t understand them. I couldn't see how it could happen when I wasn't my best self.

“I pushed you away because I was scared of letting you see the real me—the broken, messy parts. I thought that if you got too close, saw too much, you'd realize there wasn't much to hold onto. That eventually, you'd see me the way I see myself and end up disappointed.” Her voice trembles, betraying the strength she tries to project.

You listen, and her reasons make sense, but they don't ease the tightness gripping your heart. Knowing how well Leigh understands the control she holds over you leaves you feeling exposed, almost humiliated. It feels manipulative, whether she intended it or not.

“You knew how I felt about you, Leigh,” you say, your lips curving into a wistful smile. “I understand that you're hurting and that being scared is part of it, but it doesn't justify leaving me hanging, wondering where I stand with you, feeling like I'm just... waiting for you to decide I'm worth your time.”

Leigh nods slowly. “I realize that now, and I'm so sorry. It wasn't fair to you. I was trying to manage my own issues, but I ended up projecting them onto you.”

You look into her eyes, searching for a sign that the change you need from her is possible. “Being broken isn't a reason to break others,” you say.

Leigh flinches slightly, your words hitting home. “You’re absolutely right,” she agrees, her eyes unblinking. You can tell that if you were to list her faults, she would agree and confess to them all just to resolve things right here and now. But that's not what you want, nor what you need from her.

“Y/N,” Leigh's voice almost breaks as she says your name. “Will you forgive me?”

Yes, you think instinctively. Forgiving Leigh feels almost second nature. But actually saying it out loud right now would set a course you're not sure you're ready to follow. Trust has been strained and rebuilding it isn't as simple as uttering a single word of forgiveness.

Leigh looks at you expectantly, anxiety lining her features. “Y/N?” she repeats softly.

You understand what she's silently asking: if there's a chance to reset everything. But you're not ready to commit to an answer. Offering her any assurance now might only lead to false hopes, especially if you later decide a real relationship isn't possible. Part of you wants to give in, to return to her embrace and pick up where you left off. But another part, perhaps the more rational side, holds you back.

“Leigh, I... can we just... I need some time to think,” you finally say. Disappointment flashes across her face, almost imperceptible but unmistakably there. As Leigh stands, you expect her to quietly leave, respecting your need for space. Instead, she spins around to face you with renewed determination.

“I'm not a perfect person, okay?” she whispers, but you can still sense the rough edges around her voice. This is a side of Leigh you're all too familiar with, having felt the sting of her impatience and temper more times than you'd like. But instead of rising to the challenge, you simply feel drained—too exhausted to argue tonight.

“You don't have to be perfect, Leigh,” you say, more tired than angry. Then, almost impulsively, you ask, “Does Danny know you’re here?”

Leigh's composure slips for just a moment at the mention of his name. Guilt or surprise crosses her face like a shadow, only to vanish as quickly as it appeared. Her jaw tightens, and you sense her displeasure at the topic. “No, he doesn't know I'm here,” she says curtly.

Well, at least she’s being honest. But what were you expecting—that her presence here meant she had chosen you?

“You need some time to think too,” you say, pushing yourself up and moving toward the door. Leigh's expression stiffens as her eyes follow your movements. You open the door, gesturing for her to leave. She approaches, hesitating just short of it, her gaze searching for the right words or maybe just some reassurance, but finding neither.

“I'm sorry,” she murmurs, her defiance fading. “This isn't how I imagined tonight would go. I don't regret what happened, really, but I hate that it ended up hurting you. That's not why I came here.”

“I know,” you reply, unsure of what else to say.

Leigh starts to leave, then hesitates again just before crossing the threshold. “Can I contact you?”

You let out a sigh. "Good night, Leigh."

She swallows hard and nods slowly. “Bye,” she whispers.

You gently close the door after her and lean against it for a moment. Leigh has turned your world upside down more times than you can count, and you two haven't even truly begun.

“Do you ever just think about disappearing?”

Jules lifts her head to look at her sister. They lie side by side at the foot of Leigh's bed, with empty glasses of milk on the floor next to them and an open pack of Oreos, an invitation for the ants.

The night before, after the whole debacle with you finding out she’s been answering your advice submissions, Leigh had come home with her lips still tingling and her stomach in knots. She had almost run to her room in a huff, drawing puzzled looks from Jules and Amy, before slamming her bedroom door shut. They knew better than to ask what was wrong and wisely kept their distance. That was, until Leigh didn't come out of her room the entire morning until afternoon, except for a quick trip to the kitchen for some food, and even then, she was wearing the same clothes as the day before. A single whiff from a few feet away also made it clear she hadn't showered either.

Worried, Jules decided to intervene with a little gesture that she hoped might coax her sister out of her shell. She grabbed a packet of Oreos from the pantry and poured a glass of milk—Leigh’s comfort snack since childhood—and tapped softly on her sister's door. Leigh didn’t answer. She tried the knob, found it unlocked, and pushed the door open. The sight of Leigh, all disheveled and pale with those heavy bags under her eyes, took Jules right back to those first several days after they learned Matt had been found dead at the bottom of a cliff.

Jules lifts her head to look at her sister. “Leigh, you're scaring me. You know that, right?”

Leigh quickly shakes her head, realizing how her words sounded. “No, no, I don’t mean like that. Not disappearing in the way Matt did.” She sighs, throwing an arm over her eyes. “I just mean... rebooting, you know? Wishing we could rewind to before everything got so complicated.”

Relieved by the clarification, Jules settles back down beside her. They both gaze up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

“I wish I never tasted alcohol when I was fifteen,” Jules says suddenly.

Leigh frowns. “That bad, huh?”

Jules smiles wryly and nods. “Yeah. Some choices just stick with you, you know? Can’t undo them. Just have to live with what comes after.”

Leigh's thoughts drift as she listens to Jules, a rueful smile crossing her lips. “You know, I've got my own list of should've, would've, could've. I always thought I'd finish college, maybe become an editor or write something of my own one day.”

Jules tries to offer a silver lining. “But you don’t need a degree to be a writer, Leigh.”

“Yeah, I know,” Leigh mumbles, tracing a pattern on the bedspread absentmindedly. “It's just... having that formal education might have made things easier. Like being pushed by mentors... or the doors it would've opened, the people I would've met. But more than that, I regret not sticking it out. I quit too easily.”

Then, turning on her side with her back to Jules, she continues, “But in the end, it all circles back to Matt somehow. This… this inability to follow through really got to me after he was gone. We had so many plans, so many dreams together. And now none of them will ever happen.”

“You still really love him, don't you?”

Leigh’s answer is slow to come. “Yes,” Leigh whispers, her reply muffled slightly by the pillow. After a moment, she adds, “And no.”

Before Jules can comment on it, she continues, “It’s like… I love who we were, who he was to me. And I love all the memories, every plan we made, every silly promise. But,” she stops, picking her words carefully, “but there’s also this part of me that’s learning to live without that, to not need it so much. It feels like moving on, and that part doesn’t love the pain, doesn’t want to keep holding on if it just hurts.”

Jules reaches out, resting her hand on Leigh’s shoulder, offering a silent show of support. “And, um, does that tie into why you were so upset last night?”

Leigh's laugh is faint and strained. “Yes,” she says softly, “and no.” Then she rolls over to face Jules, burying the lower half of her face in the blankets.

“How so?”

“It’s complicated, Jules. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Alright,” Jules huffs. “I’ll guide you then. Does it have something to do with what I said about Y/N seeing Sara?”

Leigh doesn't answer. Instead, she sits up, letting the blanket fall around her lap as the steady breeze from the air conditioning causes her skin to prickle with goosebumps.

Jules sits up as well. “It's fine to be upset over her. You can grieve for others too, not just Matt. You can’t keep using him as the reason for all your pain. If you want to handle this, you’ve got to figure out what you're really up against.”

“Since when did you start playing therapist?”

Jules smirks. “Rehab over the past five years teaches you some things.”

Leigh forces a smile. She knows Jules jokes to cope, using humor to deal with everything she’s been through. Taking a breath, Leigh says, “I saw her last night.”

“I figured,” Jules says with a knowing look. “You dashed out of the house without even putting on a bra.”

Leigh covers her face, cringing. “You noticed that?”

Jules chuckles. “Well, it's not like any of us, including Mom, bothers wearing one around the house,” she jokes, and they both laugh. “So, did you actually forget to put one on, or…?”

Leigh rolls her eyes and gives Jules a light elbow to the side. “I forgot, okay?”

Jules grins, teasing, “Well, not like it got you any action considering how annoyed you looked when you got back last night.”

Leigh goes quiet, her eyes flitting around the room. “Well, actually…”

Jules leans in, eyes wide. “Oh my god, something happened?”

Leigh bites her lower lip. “We…kissed.”

Jules's brow creases together. “And it was that bad? You looked miserable and locked yourself up all day. Was it really just because of a bad kiss?”

“It wasn’t,” Leigh corrects her quickly. “It was good. Like, really good.” She must look a bit dreamy thinking back on it because Jules grabs a pillow and playfully smacks her in the face.

“Alright, be serious,” Jules says, fighting to keep a straight face. “What really happened?”

Leigh sniffs, clearly reluctant to revisit the details but she begins recounting it for Jules. She explains how she received a submission for the advice column she writes for, from someone using the pseudonym ‘EspressoEyes.’ It arrived on her birthday and was intriguing enough that she responded immediately. She had no idea it was you, but as the details matched too perfectly with your birthday surprise, she started to connect the dots. Then came another question, so on point that she couldn't chalk it up to coincidence anymore. After the kiss you shared last night, she let slip that you truly have espresso eyes.

“...and that's when everything fell apart,” Leigh finishes, flopping back onto the mattress with a bounce, face down, her hair fanning out around her.

Leigh waits for Jules to react, to say anything. But her sister doesn’t speak or even make a sound for a long time, and just as she’s about to sneak a peek at her sister, curious and a bit anxious, Jules says, “Honestly, if I were Y/N, I’d be very much horrified too.”

Leigh gives her a look that’s both curious and wary. “Yeah?”

“Telling someone you have feelings for them is scary,” Jules explains. “Imagine finding out that the feelings you’ve been hiding came out in such a vulnerable, almost embarrassing way.”

“I guess you’re right,” Leigh concedes.

“But,” Jules continues, “the real problem is that you didn't address it right after you figured it out. You let her pine for you before pulling her in.”

Leigh nods and grabs an Oreo from the floor, popping the whole thing into her mouth. “And I still don't know why I confronted Y/N about Sara right away. By the way, you're an asshole for that, Jules. Y/N isn't dating Sara.”

Jules just grins, completely unabashed. “I know. But it was fun seeing you all riled up.”

Leigh sighs, the cookie in her mouth losing its sweetness. “I feel so stupid for needing that push. I didn't even realize what was happening. It felt like being hit by a truck when I realized I wanted her. And I didn't trust it, you know? Especially since I haven't even been into women since my ex in college.”

Jules studies her sister thoughtfully. “So, what now that you've messed up?”

Leigh looks away, her face shrouded with uncertainty. She wishes she had a definite answer, but she knows only time will tell. “She said she needs some time to think, and I'll give her as much as she needs.”

“And in the meantime,” Jules asks, her eyes brightening with a bit too much enthusiasm, “are you going to break up with Danny?”

“Right,” Leigh mutters weakly, “I almost forgot about Danny.”

You carefully place your rental bike against the railing on the front porch, careful not to scratch the paint. After spending a year in sunny Los Angeles, the crisp autumn air of Camden, Maine, nips at your cheeks, reminding you just how unaccustomed you've become to the cold. You pull your bomber jacket tighter around your body, a futile shield against the chill, and find yourself yearning for the relentless sun that’s now hiding above the clouds of your hometown.

The aroma of blueberry pie wafts from the slightly ajar front door of the Ranch style home where you spent most of your childhood, drawing you irresistibly towards the warmth inside. From where you stand, you can see the boats bobbing in the harbor, their masts swaying gently in the breeze. You can nearly taste the ocean’s saltiness, brought back vividly through memories of sailing with your father.

“Mom?” you call out as you step inside after removing your shoes. “I’m home!”

Your mom appears from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a flour-dusted apron. She looks up, her eyes lighting up when she sees you, and she quickly closes the distance to wrap you in a tight hug. Over the years, she’s grown shorter, now standing three inches below you. As she hugs you, you rest your cheek on her salt-and-pepper hair, which smells sweetly of sugar and blueberries.

“Welcome home, honey,” she says, her voice muffled against your jacket. “I wasn't expecting you until dinner.”

“I managed to catch an earlier flight,” you say, squeezing her a little tighter. “Where's Morris?” you ask, referring to her partner and the man who's been sort of a stepdad to you, although your mom and he never got married. They've been sharing this home for the last ten years.

“He's out back,” she replies, pointing towards the yard through the kitchen window. “He's been trying to get the garden ready for winter before the frost sets in.”

You hum in response, dropping your duffel onto the couch nearby.

“Are you hungry?” your mom asks, turning towards the fridge.

“Am I too early for the pie?” you ask, your stomach rumbling at the thought.

Your mom turns around with a wide, toothy grin. “You made it just in time.”

Your bedroom is just as you left it last year, preserved in time. Your mom has kept the dust at bay, and the sheets feel freshly laundered, as if you'd only left them hours ago. Instinctively, you gravitate towards the shelves lined with various framed photos of your family. Smiling faces of your brother and your father gaze back at you from the pictures, and a warm, nostalgic smile spreads across your face. You feel a pang of yearning for them—it's been too long.

With a sigh, you collapse onto the bed and pull out your phone. As promised, Leigh hasn’t made any attempts to reach out to you. Without thinking, you browse through her social media accounts, though there's nothing new since you discovered she knew about your feelings all along. Nonetheless, you scroll through her old photos, the ones from before she was widowed, where her smiles seem effortless and full of confidence, as if happiness was her default.

You miss her; that much you can't deny. But you're still hurt, not just because she didn't come clean about her discovery, but also because of the way she often treated you—the hot and cold attitude, the confusion, the lack of kindness and consideration. Time and again, you've given her the benefit of the doubt, especially considering she's grieving a loved one with a secret that further complicated his passing. You understand loss, having faced it yourself, but you've never allowed your grief to justify lashing out at others or toying with someone's emotions. It makes you wonder how you even fell for her in the first place.

Before you know it, your eyelids grow heavy and you nod off, your phone slipping onto the comforter. You're not sure how long you've been out when a soft knock on your door jolts you awake.

“Come in,” you mumble, still half in a daze as you rub your eyes.

The door creaks open and your mom pops her head in. “Dinner's almost ready,” she says with a warm smile. “Want to come down and help me set the table?”

You nod. “Can you give me five minutes? I promise I'll help.”

Without waiting for a response, she walks over to sit beside you on the bed, gently stroking your hair as if you were still a child. “What’s wrong?” she asks softly. Your mother has always been your confidante, able to read you like an open book. You can't hide anything from her; she'll know.

“I keep falling for the wrong person,” you say, offering a bittersweet smile.

“Oh, honey,” she murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Love is more complicated than the right or wrong person. We're all a combination of good and bad; it's just a matter of deciding whether it's worth it in the end.”

You reflect on your past relationships, few though they are, and realize you're better off without them. They were either taking what they could get or using you as a fallback for their own misery.

“Do you feel like this person could be worth it?” she asks.

“I honestly don’t know,” you say. “It’s all so uncertain.”

“And that's fine,” she says. “Love isn't a sprint. Give yourself the space to figure it out.”

You're finding it hard to agree with her. If only the answers could be handed to you, saving you from future heartbreak. Why do some lessons have to be learned the hard way? Why don't people come with warnings and expectations?

Noticing how unconvinced you seem, your mom offers an idea.

“Tell you what, let's ask Morris to set the table for us. How about you and I go see your brother and father before dinner?”

You and your mom walk side by side through the cemetery, hands clasped together. You haven’t visited your father and brother’s graves in over a year, and you've been fighting back tears since leaving the house.

Your mom unfurls a thick blanket over the damp grass, spreading it out with care before you both settle onto it. She surprises you by pulling out a bottle of white wine from her bag. You lift an eyebrow, and she laughs, saying, “In my defense, I used to drink stronger liquor back in the day.”

You chuckle, picking up an empty glass and holding it out. “Pour me one.”

She fills your glass before pouring her own, and the two of you sit there, sipping wine quietly.

A few minutes later, she turns to you and says, “So, tell me about her.”

You nearly choke on your drink, surprised she knows it’s a woman. “How did you know?”

She smiles impishly. “You’ve always had poorer judgment when it comes to girls, so I figured this is what’s been on your mind.”

You can’t help but be impressed by how well she reads you. “Her name is Leigh. She's the wife of someone I used to see,” you say.

Your mom’s smile vanishes, replaced by shock. “Wait, you're saying you had an affair and now you're seeing his wife on the side?”

You burst into laughter at her horrified expression. “No, it's not like that.” Taking a deep breath, you tell her the whole story: how Matt died and how his wife, Leigh, found you after discovering Matt had cheated on her.

As your mom listens, her shock softens into contemplation. She tops up your wine and says thoughtfully, “Well, that’s complicated.”

“Yeah, it is.”

You open up to your mom about Leigh, sharing both the beautiful and terrible moments without holding back. As you recount the story, it's like rereading a passage in a book and analyzing it with new eyes. When you finish, your mother sets down her drink and says, “She's mean to you.”

You nod, draining the last of your wine.

“Loss does things to people,” she says softly. “You and I both know that better than anyone.”

“We do,” you say quietly.

Your mom regards you for a moment, then asks, “What do you see in Leigh? Why do you like her?”

You think about it, grappling with how to express the spectrum of emotions Leigh evokes in you.

“She’s pretty, definitely, and there’s a sharpness to her that’s... captivating. She’s unapologetically herself, and it’s often really funny. But… does that sound shallow? I can’t help but feel a bit foolish listing these superficial things—”

Your mom gently places her hand on yours, stopping your words. “You don’t need a poetic reason to love someone,” she says with a small smile. “Sometimes you just do. But mostly, we feel connected to people because we recognize some part of our soul in them. Recognition is why people are together, Y/N. Can you really love a stranger?”

Perhaps it’s true. Leigh isn’t really a stranger to you. Aside from concealing her knowledge of your feelings, she never pretended to be someone she wasn't. She was honest, showing you both her strengths and flaws. And you didn’t have to like all of it. But you kept coming back, eager to uncover more of her layers.

She continues, “By the way, you must be wondering why I brought you here.”

You glance around at the headstones of your father and brother, then back at her. “Yeah, I was.”

She looks toward the gravestones, her eyes misty. “To remind you that we don’t have all the time in the world. We have to make our time count, even if it means taking risks or facing things we're afraid of. Love isn't easy, but it’s worth finding the right person and making it work.”

“What if it doesn't work out, though?” you ask.

She smiles knowingly. “If it doesn’t, at least you’ll know you gave it a chance. You won't be left wondering what could have been. And that matters.”

She gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, and you return it, feeling a bit more grounded. She waits for her words to settle in you, before asking, “You’ve already made your choice, haven’t you?”

You nod slowly, a growing sense of certainty welling up inside. “I think I have.”

“Well, then. Let’s finish our bottle and head back.”

“You waited until after Thanksgiving dinner to break up with me?” Danny's voice cracks as he speaks, his figure looming in the doorway of his apartment, blocking Leigh's exit. His eyes dart between anger and desperation, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth set in a stern line. Yet, his hands are open, reaching toward her—pleading.

They had just returned from Thanksgiving dinner at the Shaws'. Leigh wanted to create one last pleasant memory with Danny, something kind to look back on. Aware of his strained relationship with his mom, she didn't want to leave him alone during the holidays by breaking up earlier. Now she accompanied him back to his apartment, planning to end things there and collect her belongings afterward.

Leigh turns to face him, her expression somber. “I just... I thought it was the right time to talk, after everything settled down.”

“After everything settled down?” Danny repeats incredulously. “You mean after we spent the whole day with your family, pretending everything was fine?”

Leigh sighs, knowing how it looks but needing him to understand. “I know how it seems, but I couldn't do it before dinner. It didn’t feel right to ruin the holiday for everyone.”

Danny steps back from the doorway, giving her space to enter. “So, you decided to ruin my night instead?”

Leigh walks inside, closing the door behind her. “I'm really sorry, Danny. I’ve felt for a while that this isn’t working, and I can't keep stringing you along.”

Danny runs a hand through his hair and starts pacing. “Is this about Matt?”

Leigh stills for a moment, considering her answer. It would be easy to say yes, to blame everything on that one pervasive loss. Matt has often been her scapegoat, but Leigh is tired of deceiving herself and others. For quite some time now, it hasn't been Matt’s absence that's been upending her world. Which is why she resolves to tell him the truth, aware that he would find out sooner or later.

Leigh sucks in a deep breath and looks Danny in the eye. “No, it's not about Matt. It's because of Y/N.”

Danny stops in his aimless tracks, his eyes narrowing. “Y/N?”

Leigh feels her heart race, knowing she can’t back down now. “Two weeks ago… we kissed.”

He blinks, stunned. “You kissed Y/N?” His voice is flat, almost disbelieving.

“It wasn’t planned, but... it happened. And it felt right, in a way I can’t ignore,” Leigh says.

Danny crosses his arms, scoffing. “I didn't know you were into women,” he says with a sneer, as if trying to insult her.

Leigh grits her teeth. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Clearly,” he replies bitterly. “So how many times? How long have you been cheating on me?”

Leigh shakes her head, holding her ground. “I didn’t purposely cheat on you, Danny. I didn’t even realize I had strong feelings for her until that night. It just happened.”

Danny's face contorts with rage, and he yells, “Stop lying to me, Leigh! You fucking checked out of this relationship a while ago, and now it makes sense. You were screwing someone else on the side.”

Leigh protests, “We’ve never slept—” but her words are cut off as Danny suddenly swings his fist into the wall beside him. The sound of splintering wood and cracking bones reverberates through the apartment, and Leigh stands frozen, shocked beyond belief at what she's witnessing.

Danny looks down at his bloodied knuckles, bewilderment creeping over his features as he pulls back from the wall. He catches his breath and stares at Leigh, their eyes meeting in horrified silence.

“Sorry… I’m so sorry,” Danny mumbles, cradling his injured hand.

Leigh quickly grabs his keys from the dusty fishbowl on the shelf. He watches her, his gaze confused and desperate. “What are you doing?”

She meets his eyes, surprised herself at how calm and collected she feels. “I’m taking you to the hospital. You need to get that hand looked at,” she replies.

He doesn’t protest, only nods numbly and follows her outside.

At the hospital, Danny sits in a stiff plastic chair, his freshly bandaged hand resting on his lap. Leigh is next to him, her eyes fixed on the speckled tile floor, avoiding his gaze.

After several minutes, Danny breaks the silence. “I didn’t know what happened back there,” he starts, his voice low and unsteady. “I didn’t want to be angry, but it just… it had to go somewhere. I’ve never hurt anyone, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he tries to explain.

Leigh turns to look at him, her expression blank. “You punched a wall, Danny. It doesn’t matter if you’ve never hit anyone; you’ve got some serious anger management issues.”

Danny stays quiet for a moment, staring at his bandaged hand as if he’s still trying to comprehend what he did. He finally looks up, his expression twisted in frustration. “I’ve been angry for a long time, Leigh. Long before Matt was gone. I can’t even remember a time when I wasn’t.”

“I understand that,” Leigh says, shifting in her seat. “Even with therapy, the anger and resentment don’t really disappear completely. They linger like shadows.” She exhales, glancing down at her lap. Before she can stop it, a small smile plays on her lips as she thinks of you. “But lately, when Y/N is around, I forget about it. So know that I didn’t make this decision lightly.”

Danny studies her for a moment before asking, “Did you ever love me? Did I ever stand a chance?”

There's no easy way to say this without hurting him, but she doesn’t want to leave him with false hope. “I tried, Danny. I wanted to,” she whispers.

Danny turns away, his body twisting from her. Leigh wants to feel worse than she does, but instead, she just wants this to be over. She hopes the billing clerk will soon call their name so they can pay and head home. It's been an unbearably long day.

As she waits, her thoughts drift to you. She wants to call you after this, to tell you that she wants to try with you, that it could be real. She wants to explain that she ended things with Danny, that she did it to be free to explore the possibility of being with you, without any reservations.

After a while, Danny lets out a slow sigh, then looks at Leigh with a despondent look. “If your mind’s made up, I should probably put everything out in the open too.”

Leigh looks at him expectantly, a little curious.

“I’ve been keeping something from you. I didn’t think it would matter, but now… well, I can’t hide it anymore.”

“Just say it, Danny,” Leigh says, crossing her arms.

Then Danny proceeds to tell her the one last secret he thought he'd carry to his grave.

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

370 notes · View notes

reveluving · 6 months

Note

Hii!

I was just thinking Price with a wife who is insecure about her body because of things like stretch marks or chub finally working up the courage to do something like lingerie or naughty photos as a surprise for him ;D

Hi!! OMG. SWEATING. As someone who has stretch marks and a little 'cushion' here and there, plus is also a big fan of this trope(?), this thot is CALLING me! 😩🤌🏻

Includes: soft dom!price, unprotected sex (p in v), finger-sucking, size difference, petnames ('pretty girl', 'sweetheart'), mentions of lap dance/strip tease

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

No matter which lingerie suits your fancy, just know it will give your husband a heart attack.

Why wouldn’t it? He already loves you for who you are—you can do the most mundane things and he’ll stare. A lot. You could be wearing anything, even if you think it doesn’t suit you, and he’d have to fight the urge to just have you for himself, be it at home or in public.

So, you want to thank your husband for being the hunky sweetheart that he is.

He wouldn’t be home until a few hours, giving you enough time to execute your plan.

Hiding the lingerie you bought days prior is one thing, posing for the camera is another. The thought of having your ass up, face down or the strap of your bra or babydoll fall off your shoulders in front of the lens just causes your body to heat up immensely, even if it's just you. Possibly because it’s your first time taking photos of yourself in such a deliciously scandalous manner, but it also could’ve been due to the fact that you know exactly how John is going to react to them.

Especially since you’re planning to gift these polaroids for when he needs to leave for work—with no way to have you with him except for these priceless photos, specifically made for his eyes and use only.

But three polaroids aren’t enough for him to survive the field without you.

Because as soon as he comes home to find these photos on the table, placed under his hat for his next deployment in the near future, expect to hear heavy footsteps approaching the bedroom, where you’re likely waiting for him—being struck dumb to find you sitting prettily on the bed in your new piece.

His eyes are blown out, and you can’t help but gulp when he closes the door behind him too calmly before walking over to you. The way he stalks over to you ever so slowly prompts you to crawl back. Not because you’re scared, but you had to admit, your heart’s beating wildly, even more so when he begins taking off his clothes without uttering a word.

Your nails dig into the sheets when you have nowhere to go, feeling the headboard against your back as he traps you from the front—resembling a predator hunting its prey.

“John…” You mutter, letting out a shaky sigh as he slides his hand up your leg, biting his lip at the sight; the stockings/garter belt squeezing the plush of your thighs just enough to drive him wild. He doesn’t even give you a second to utter his name once again when he yanks you forward, with John on his knees as he holds you to sit on his thighs, forcing you to look down at him.

“S’a really nice piece, sweetheart,” He purrs, his voice telling you that he’s holding himself back from just fucking you. He licks on the deep cleavage, the small, thin material leaving little to his imagination as it barely covers your tits, all while maintaining eye contact as a guttural groan leaves his lips. One of his hands moves to your front, playing with the hem of your stocking/garter belt, pulling it back before releasing it. His lips part in delight, almost mirroring the way you gasp as the tight material slaps against you with a light smack, “Is this all f’me?”

You nodded with the tiniest whine, holding onto him like he was your lifeline.

Ignoring the dampness of your panties was useless since you knew he could feel it against his thigh. His stare becomes too much for you, and you can’t do anything else other than rest your forehead against his, feeling his warm breath against you just as he feels yours and begging him to have you.

And how can he say no to you?

Especially since you’ve been a good girl at posing for him as he takes countless photos of you on the polaroids—from the more ‘innocent ones’ like having you drool on his fingers (“Suck on them real good. That’s it, my pretty girl”) to the lewder displays, where he has you on your side, taking you from behind before taking a picture or two your pussy tightly gripping and leaking around the base of his cock.

Now he knows he won’t be alone in his next deployment.

Bonus: Him asking you for a lap dance or a strip tease for him as he sits all smug at the edge of the bed or the bedroom chair. He does this thing where he throws his head back and bucks his hips when you rub yourself against him. Yes.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

678 notes · View notes

prodigal-explorer · 10 months

Text

how to write children's personalities

(this is part of my series, how to write children in fanfiction! feel free to check it out if you want more info like this!)

this is the main aspect of writing children that i see people mess up so often, especially in the fandoms i'm in (sanders sides and undertale). children are not adorable little noodles with no brains and no concept besides being cute and silly and crying. children are beings that are just as complex as adults, and they deserve personalities to match. this will make them way more interesting to read about! let's get started!

since there are so many aspects to personality to talk about and i don't want to sit here typing for ten years, we're going to do this guide a little differently. i'm going to divide these issues into archetypes, write a short description, and then make a list of do's and don't's for each one!

archetype one: the cute little baby

okay. babies are cute. we all know this, and i'm not saying it's a bad thing to make your babies cute. a lot of people love reading about moments with adorable little babies. but here are some ways to step this kind of thing up, and some things to avoid if you want to improve upon writing this archetype.

do's:

give the child character another archetype besides this one. though "cute" is the foundation for a lot of child characters, it's not a personality. and if a character is vital to your story, then it needs a personality. that's just a rule. you will read more about other archetypes further along in this post!

make the moments symbolic. though it doesn't seem like it from an outsider's perspective, basically everything a baby does is for a reason, and every action a baby makes can say something about their personality. if you want this baby's personality to be energetic and curious, have them crawl around and explore things, and laugh a lot, and babble. if you want this baby to be more sullen and shy, have them cry quietly instead of wailing, or have them squirm when being held by new people.

make the actions of the baby's guardians affect the mannerisms of the baby. babies act differently depending on how the people taking care of them act and react. for instance, if the baby's guardians are very busy people, then maybe have the baby cry very loudly whenever they want something, since they know that it's the only way to get the attention of their guardians. stuff like that can add depth to a character and to a general story.

don't's:

decide that the baby is cute and call it a day. sweet little babies are cool and all, but they get very boring to read about after a while. this can barely even be considered an archetype because of how bland it is when it's by itself.

keep this archetype around for too long. as babies turn into toddlers and then children, they don't act even remotely the same way. it's strange and off-putting to read about a seven year old acting like a two-year old, unless it's a very clear character choice that is a result of explicit actions and events.

make the baby know that it's cute. realistically, children don't understand the concept of cuteness until they're around toddler age. if then, you want to make the kid be like "i get what i want when i'm cute, so i'll act cute!", then sure, that's hilarious. but when they're two months old, they're not batting their eyelashes because that's their personality. they're batting their eyelashes because they got something in their eye. the main thing that makes a baby cute is that they don't know they're cute. they're just figuring out how to do ordinary things.

make everything a cute moment. while babies are awesome, raising them isn't always sunshine and rainbows. make the baby do something wildly chaotic, because babies do wildly chaotic things all the time. not only does this make things more realistic, but it makes things very interesting!

archetype two: the shy kid

as a former shy kid, i know good and well that these types of children exist, and they are very real and valid. however, there are certain ways i've seen them written that are just terrible because once again, this archetype cannot be considered a full personality on its own. let's get into the do's and don't's.

do's:

make their shyness a deliberate choice. kids aren't usually naturally shy. kids are usually more curious than cautious. is there a reason why the kid is shy? there doesn't have to be a reason why the kid is shy, but there could be a reason why the child is NOT outgoing/curious. try and give something like this some deliberate cause, instead of just making them shy so they can seem more precious and infantilized.

make their shyness manifest in diverse ways. not all shy kids cling to their guardian's leg and sit alone during recess. there are different ways to be shy. you can be aggressively shy, or fearfully shy, or shy due to general unwillingness to change.

make their shyness have realistic consequences. someone who's shy is probably not going to have many friends, if any. not all shy kids magically meet an extrovert who adopts them. someone who's shy probably has underdeveloped social skills, which can lead to them being less emotionally intelligent down the line. this makes the shy kid archetype a lot more three-dimensional than just a wet noodle of fear.

don't's:

infantilize shyness or treat it like it makes the kid some sweet, precious angel. not only is this very uncomfortable for shy people to read, but it's generally unrealistic. shyness doesn't affect how good or bad somebody is - it's a neutral trait.

use shyness as a tool to make characters seem younger. shyness does not indicate age. fear manifests in many different ways, and shyness is not the only way.

rely on cliches. not all shy people have the same journey, and the idea that a shy person becoming more outgoing is the "goal" is not only a bit offensive, but it's very cliche. shyness is not always an obstacle to be overcome.

archetype three: the happy-go-lucky kid

oftentimes, the reason why children characters are written into stories in the first place is to give a little bit of lightheartedness and innocence. to add a unique voice among all the cranky, stingy, burdened adults. but you have to be careful when writing this archetype. i personally really dislike this archetype as a whole, but i'm going to put personal feelings towards it aside because honestly, there's no valid reason to dislike it besides opinion.

do's:

give the kid a trademark. maybe this kid makes a lot of little jokes, or maybe they always see the best in a situation. give the kid one thing that makes them happy-go-lucky instead of just giving them everything because nobody is endlessly happy all the time in every way.

go deeper. while happiness is very often genuine, sometimes, it's a mask that hides something else. this can be an interesting way to sort of spice up your happy-go-lucky kid character. maybe the kid is hiding a big secret behind all those jokes.

don't's:

make the character always happy. while children tend to have simpler thoughts, they don't have simpler minds. this child needs to have thoughts, real, genuine thoughts that aren't just happy things.

see happy-go-lucky as a trait that is exclusive to children. comparing happiness to childhood and viewing them as the only places where the other can exist is just wrong, and it's kind of depressing. maybe give happy-go-lucky kid a happy-go-lucky adult to exchange jokes with!

---

those are the archetypes that i see a lot. but now, i'm going to suggest a few child character archetypes that i LOVE that i don't see enough in fics! feel free to use any of these that you like. alter them, combine them! these are, in my opinion, some of the most fun child character personalities!

the spoiled brat: "i want this, and that, and that, and- why aren't you giving it to me?? if you don't give me what i want, i'll tell on you!". spoiled brats are so fun to read and write about, especially when they have absolutely no reason to be spoiled given the current situation (think riches to rags). they've got everything, humor, angst, and best of all, lots of pockets for personality. think about why the child is spoiled. were they enabled by their guardians? did they grow up rich, with access to everything they wanted? think about whether you want the child to stay spoiled. does something change? do they learn how to improve their materialistic and selfish tendencies? there are so many opportunities to play with the personality of this child!

the know-it-all kid: while i do see a lot of know-it-all kids in media, oftentimes, they don't actually have personality besides bossiness and intelligence. i love know-it-all kids who have depth to them. kids who are constantly spouting information because of their sheer love to learn. kids who have one specific thing that they know everything about, so they never stop talking about it. kids who tell people what to do and act like they know best because they don't have a lot of control over anything at home, so they grasp at whatever control they can find elsewhere. i think this archetype could open up a lot of ideas for personality further down the line. it also has a lot of variety with humor and angst, and general depth.

the serious child: this is an archetype that i cannot get enough of. i love a child that doesn't think they're an adult, per se, and still enjoys kid things, but just has such a calm and regal air about them that isn't learned. it's just natural. think of the kid that doesn't really get excited about things conventionally, but you can tell they're happy by their faint smile. the kid that seems to live in slow motion, and doesn't mind this fact at all. the kid that sits alone at recess just because other kids scare the birds away, and they want to see how a bird acts when it doesn't think its being watched. i love kids who have poignant thoughts, because their thoughts are so creative and different from adult thoughts.

the adult-ified child: now this is another archetype i can't get enough of, but it's for a different reason. this child, on the other hand, does think that they're an adult for one reason or another. maybe their guardians forced them to grow up too quickly. maybe they just wanted to grow up quickly by themselves. but this child has thoughts that are too big for their little bodies. they explore things that aren't meant to be explored when their brains are still so small. they do everything too quickly, they stumble through life as if a clock is ticking somewhere. to me, they're just haunting to read about. it feels wrong and dangerous to just watch them do things that hurt them because they don't know any better, but they're on a page. nobody can stop them. it's just so tragic, i'm obsessed.

the prodigal child: this archetype isn't really as deep or detailed as the others, but i do appreciate it. this archetype is for a child who knew who they wanted to be from an early age. a child who wanders into a ballet class and finds out they're better than the ten year olds by the time they're five. this archetype often pairs really well with the know-it-all kid or the adult-ified child because usually, children don't experience what it's like to be the best at something until they're a lot older. this is just a really cool archetype when you aren't quite sure what to do with that main character's little sister.

the chaotic child: this archetype is so much fun to read and write, to be honest. this is a child that just does as they please, whether it's out of curiosity or for pure enjoyment. think of the crazy stories that your guardians have about you or your siblings being absolutely insane. scribbling in a book and then demanding that the library publish their version. trying to ride the dog like a horse. cutting up clothes in an attempt to be a fashion designer. this one is just plain fun!

---

now, there are so many more archetypes out there, but those are just my spotlights and recommendations! i hope after reading this, you feel more equipt to write child characters that have real, engaging, interesting personalities!

973 notes · View notes

yoonivy · 21 days

Text

gold rush; part 2.

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

genre. romantic comedy — inspired by 10 things i hate about you and also another movie (can you guess which one? :) ) , college/university au, eventual smut, enemies to lovers (kinda??? their relationship is complicated to explain LOL)

In all the 8 years you’ve known Aemond Targaryen, he has not spoken more than 8 words to you. In total. So why is he starting now?

warnings. none.

author's note. i have no poetic bone in my body so oc's poem is taken from mitski's "your best american girl". enjoy!!!!

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07

This is not how you thought you’ll be spending your first day off in months — with your favorite distressed black tee of your favorite band covered in flour, eggs in your hair, and coloured icing staining your hands. But you suppose there are worse ways to spend your day off, and at least all this hard work will pay off with all the delicious desserts that Sansa is manically making.

And by manic, you are not at all joking in the slightest.

On every available surface of Sansa’s kitchen, there is at least one tray of some sort of baked goods cooling. Cookies on the kitchen table, banana bread and her favorite lemon cakes on the island, three different flavours of cheesecakes by the sink, and macaron shells currently in the oven. And she’s not even finished! While you are currently decorating the cookies, she is frantically stirring something else in a bowl — by hand, because once again for the 9th time this year, she had broken an electric mixer just a bit earlier.

There is only one reason Sansa gets like this. There is something troubling her mind. And by the looks of the disaster she made of her kitchen, it’s pretty big.

She’ll let you know when she’s ready to vent. But for now, you’re just both happy for the company.

Plus, you’re finally getting a hang of this icing piping thing if you do say so yourself. You stand back, picking up the sea salt caramel chip cookie you finished decorating to proudly show off the cute turtle to Sansa.

She laughs, offering an excited, “ Awwww!” before she goes back to mixing.

It’s quiet for a while, both of you concentrated on the task at hand.

Mayhaps too quiet, you start to think…

That is when you smell something… strange.

“Oh no!”

Sansa reacts and jumps on it first, quick to the oven with her mitts, pulling out the tray of charred macaron shells and placing it onto the stove. You stand by her as she slumps in defeat, and you notice she forgot to set the timer she already had ready on the oven.

From this close, it’s easier to notice how frazzled and disheveled Sansa truly is. Her copper hair is in disarray, falling from her tight bun in many places, her bangs messy against her forehead. Her rosy complexion even more flush than usual. And the bags under her eyes… She has not slept well.

Meeting your gaze, she lets out a heavy sigh, and finally comes out with it, “Jon asked me out.”

“ Oh… ” You trail off, eyes shifting from side to side. “That’s… that’s it?”

“What?!” Sansa is so shocked that you’re so nonchalant about it. As if she and Jon haven’t been dancing around each other for nearly two years now. “Isn’t that… Isn’t it…”

You gasp into an over exaggerated worried expression. “Oh no… you’re going to reject him, aren’t you?”

Your poor bestie… Now he is going to be even more sulky than ever. If that’s even possible.

“I— no! I mean, I want —” Sansa sputters, eyes widening wildly. Then she takes a breath to recollect herself, stares at you for a moment before she claims, “You all knew, didn’t you?”

You nod slowly.

“Even… Robb?”

“I’m pretty sure Robb’s the one that gave him the final push to ask you.”

Sansa groans, face palming. “This is so embarrassing…”

“Yeah, it’s so strange. How very Cersei Lannister of you,” you tease, clearly unserious with your reference to the recent scandal of the high profile actress who was caught having an affair… With her own twin brother, the most booked and busy male model Jaime Lannister. Some say the raunchy videos that leaked were just deep fakes and the twins were the ones who leaked it themselves to hide the fact they both weren’t straight, but many others — like yourself and Sansa — think it’s as real as can be. For the first two weeks when the scandal broke out, you and Sansa kept sending the group chat twitter “proof” threads of clips of the Lannister twins throughout the years (on the red carpet, the photoshoots they often were paired up with together, their own content they would post of one another) to convince your other friends. Needless to say, all the guys left the group chat and would only agree to be added back if the two of you shut the fuck up about it.

They’re lucky that the star of the reality television show "Keeping Up With The Martells", Arianne Martell, started dating comedian Pete Davidson a week later or else they would have never been added back.

Sansa’s face falls into a silent gasp, and you quickly have to convince her, “I’m joking, Sansa! You and Jon are nothing like them! And plus, cousins dating is not that weird… Aren’t your grandparents cousins?”

“Yes, but–”

“And they’re the most adorable little old couple I’ve ever seen! How they would always walk around the godswood every morning holding hands… my little heart couldn’t handle the cuteness every time I saw them when we were growing up!”

Sansa giggles, smiling fondly at the thought of her grandparents. “You’re right… They are so sweet.”

You share a smile, but then Sansa frowns suddenly. “But it’s not even that… I mean it was , but there’s also… There’s also the fact I was horrible to Jon when we were growing up.”

You won’t deny that, but… “Well clearly things have changed. You’ve changed. And it’s obvious Jon forgives you… And honestly, if I have to hear him be all sad boy and pine over you and play his guitar while singing some song by Cigarettes After Sex for another night, I think I might really have to K word myself.”

“Don’t do that!” Sansa laughs, shaking her head. You raise a brow at her and then she nods, determined.

“I’m going to talk to him… Right now,” Sansa declares, smiling wide. Then she takes your hands into hers. “Thank you… For being here for me when I’m such a mess.”

“It’s nothing, Sansa,” you say as you pull your hands from her grasp to wrap her into a tight hug. “I’m always here for you, you know that! And I know you’d do the same for me.”

After you both pull away, your finger grazes on her cheek and then you show her the pad now covered in cake mixture. “Maybe shower first before you talk to him?”

You both laugh, and then Sansa leaves you alone in her kitchen. You start to clean up, getting most of it done and only stopping when you pass by the tray of cookies you were working on.

As you stare at one of the chocolate chips you had decorated, you pull your phone out of your pocket.

To Aemond

— are you at school rn?

From Aemond

— Yes. At Barristan Hall.

— Why?

To Aemond

— okay good!

— STAY THERE!! 😡

From Aemond

— Alright.

— Why?

— Oh, so it's okay when you leave me on read?

You laugh at Aemond’s unintentional silliness while you slam close the car door you just stepped out of.

To Aemond — it’s only been 5 minutes you drama queen!! — i’ll see you soon!

“I was promised treats for the ride.”

You roll your eyes, looking across the hood of the car where Theon is putting on his clubmaster sunglasses. You meet him at the front of his car, handing him one of the little dessert packages you had made with Sansa. His eyes light up as he takes it, going ‘ oooh! ’, then he glances up into your eyes more expectantly. Even from behind the sunglasses, you can feel his little beady eyes doing that pleading, wide-eyed emoji look at you.

“You motherf…” You curse him under your breath, rummaging into your tote bag to hand him what he really wanted. The preroll you were saving for yourself later that evening.

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you, m’lady,” he says with a bow.

“Uh-huh.”

As the two of you walk off the parking lot together, Theon lights it up, takes a hit before handing it to you. “Why are you here anyway? I thought you didn't have classes today?”

“I don’t,” you tell him, after exhaling the sativa from your lungs. You hold up the second tote bag you were carrying to show him. “I’m just being a little dessert fairy! I’m gonna give one to Seaworth, Professor Tarth, and…”

Taking back the spliff and glancing your way, Theon grins and teases, “And your little Targaryen boyfie ?”

Your face twists in disgust. “Ew. Please never say that ever again,” Theon snickers as you continue, “And he’s not my boyfriend… We’re just… friends…question mark?”

You’re definitely not even sure about that. It’s been a week since the party, and you’ve yet to see Aemond in person since then.

But the two of you have been texting. A lot.

Surprisingly, Aemond is fun to text despite his perfect sentence structures, proper punctuation, and no use of emojis. Though strangely enough, you don’t even have to explain the internet slangs you say and memes you often send him, he just somehow knows. You usually get a very dry ‘Haha.’ and you’re not sure if he even finds it actually funny. He still keeps texting you though, so you take that as a good sign.

“ Friends… right. Because you make out with your friends all the time in front of a huge crowd.”

“How many times do I have to tell you: WE DID NOT MAKE OUT! OR EVEN KISS FOR THAT MATTER!”

Theon waves around the phone in his hand. “I have video evidence! And so does Marg! And a million other people that were at the party!”

“And you’re all dumb, like I’ve said before,” you tell him with a pout. You can’t believe the videos of you and Aemond “kissing” gained traction around the students at your school and yet none of your sick dance moves did. The world is so unfair!

As the two of you stop by the doors of the building where his first and only class of the day is being held, Theon steps on the roach of the spliff. Then he turns to you, pulling down his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, enough for you to see his eyes. “How do I look?”

“Like you smoked half a joint.”

“Shit… Mordane is going to kill me.”

You hum, satisfied. “Perhaps it’s deserved… I know it’s your video that’s been spreading around, you little shit!”

From the anonymous TikTok video that Jon showed you that was being spread around the night after the party titled “Vale U’s Ice Prince snogging the weirdest girl at Vale U”, you can hear Margaery gasping beside the cameraman and the cameraman laughing annoyingly. It’s definitely Theon.

Theon now laughs again, the same annoying laugh from the video, and shrugs his shoulders flippantly. Opening the doors, he lilts at you, “Say hi to your boyfie for me!”

With your middle finger up at him, you sing-song back, “I won’t!”

“Theon says hi .”

Aemond eyes you quizzically, brows furrowing together in a way that you would think is cute if he was your boyfriend like Theon teases. But he’s not, so it’s like, whatever…

“Theon…?” He repeats, still confused.

“You know, my friend who I think spread that video of us?”

“ Ah… ” Aemond lets out, finally putting a face to the name. Then he looks up at you from where you are standing just beside the table he is sitting at, clearing his throat. “So… How have you been?”

“Fine,” you tell him with a shrug, glancing around the room. You think this must be the first time you’ve been to Barristan Hall since… Well, since your tour guide of the University two years ago. This building is unnecessarily too bougie , and it’s where the more privileged students (read, nepo babies ) like to spend their time on campus. Even this study hall — if you can even call it that — has a stall of the most expensive coffee store chain in it and a freaking high-end bar . It’s ridiculous!

Aemond is at least studying judging by the book and laptop he has opened in front of him, unlike the other students mingling around.

You then turn your attention back to him, finding his eye still on you. With a soft smile, you return his question, “How about you? How have you been?”

Aemond sits up a little straighter as he says, “I’ve been… well.” He then presses his lips together, before opening his mouth again, “So, what—”

“Oh, ____! Fancy seeing you here!”

You and Aemond glance to where Ramsay, Aegon, and Vis are all approaching the two of you.

Before you can even dodge it, Ramsay has his arms wrapped around you. Cringing, you push him off you with a glare that he takes with an amused chuckle. He leans in close, too close , and inhales deeply, smirking at you when he pulls back, “You smell real sweet, sweetheart.”

You make a face that hopefully conveys your utter disgust for him but then Aegon pushes him aside with his arms wide open towards you with pout, “Where’s my hug at, ____?”

You suppress a grimace, tentatively hugging Aegon back when he steps towards you, patting his back awkwardly. It’s strange for Aegon to be this friendly towards you, but maybe it’s because Aemond and you are sorta, kinda, maybe friends now? And Aegon was the nicer of the two towards you when you were growing up. Daeron and Helaena are still the sweetest though.

From over your shoulder, Aegon smirks at his little brother, the glare Aemond has on him making him tighten his arm around you.

Luckily Vis does not seem to care for you, already sitting down at the table with Aemond with his iced Sunspearino. Aegon finally lets you go and join, sitting beside his brother – bending down to snicker mischievously into Aemond’s ear before he does so. Hidden from view from under the table, Aemond’s knuckles whiten from his clenched fist.

Ramsay stays standing with his hips cocked and arms crossed, his sleazy gaze steady on you.

Ugh.

“So, ____, have you visited our father lately?” Aegon asks, throwing his arm around Aemond.

“Yup, just yesterday!” You tell him. Then to both him and Aemond, you suggest, “You know, you two should visit him more often. He’s always asking about you guys as if I know what the two of you are up to…”

Aegon snorts while Aemond frowns, looking down.

“Last time we visited, we found some very interesting… things , that our dear father has been hiding,” Aegon says, eyeing you closely.

“Like what…?” Your face twists. “... Porn ? Actually — whatever it is, don’t even tell me!”

The boys laugh – except Aemond – and Aegon points towards you, wagging his finger, “You’re pretty funny. I like you!”

“Told ya she’s cute,” Ramsay comments and you almost gag.

“I don’t know about that…” Vis mutters under his breath. “She has egg in her hair for crying out loud…”

With your mouth downturned, you glance down at your hair and find that he is right — you do have egg in your hair. Well that’s embarrassing…

“You’re here to give me something, weren’t you?” Aemond asks, changing the subject.

“Oh right!” You exclaim, pulling out a neatly plastic wrapped package tied together with a red ribbon and placing it on the table for Aemond. Inside the clear plastic sheet are different individually boxed sweets in clear small tupperware. It’s a bit extra, but that’s Sansa for you! “I spent the morning baking with a friend and we made too much, so… Here you go!” Then you grin at Vis, holding up a piece of your hair, “The reason why I have egg,” you tell him with a laugh. He smiles tightly, still unamused.

You turn back to Aemond, pointing out the different dessert from outside the package, “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I gave you a bit of everything… That’s lemon cake over there, Sansa’s favorite. Oh, the macarons! I think I gave you the pistachio and coffee flavored one. Um… Strawberry cheesecake. The banana bread is pretty fire… and,” Your eyes light up as you giddily talk, and Aemond’s cheeks heats up, “I decorated that cookie myself! Don’t you think it’s cute?” You meet his eyes, and he startles, realizing he has been looking at you the entire time instead of following what you were pointing out. You did not notice, only smiling at him as you let him know “It’s a dragon, like your family—”

“That doesn’t look like a dragon,” Aegon remarks rudely, and both you and Aemond snap at him at the same time, “Yes, it does!”

You throw an appreciative smile at Aemond which he returns with a coy half-grin, while Aegon murmurs with a frown, “Geez, talk about touchy ….”

“Thank you,” Aemond says softly, pulling the package towards himself.

Grinning, you wave him off, “No problem!”

Then you glance at the time on your phone. “I should get going,” you tell him, already backing away. “I’ll talk to you later!”

Aemond stands suddenly, but doesn’t move, just nods as his hands stay pressed on the table. “Yeah, later…”

You throw him one final glance back with a sweet smile on your face and he grins back.

Once you’re gone, that’s when he finally sits back down.

“I guess Aemond has game after all,” Vis smirks. “Didn’t think you had it in you…”

Ramsay harrumphs, now also seated. “She never once gave me a package of sweets…” Then he grins sordidly, “But she did give something else that’s pretty sweet if you know what I mean…”

“Fuck off,” Aegon laughs out loud. “You’re gonna make Aemond blow a fuse.”

“He shouldn’t be getting attached to her,” Vis reminds Aegon, and Aemond in turn with a furrowed look. “Isn’t that the whole plan?”

“Looks like he’s getting pretty attached to me,” Ramsay says with a yawn.

“I’m not,” Aemond says, surely. “I’m just trying to make it all believable. Isn’t that the plan also?”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I have a go again after you dump her?” Ramsay asks, with an innocent tilt in his voice. “I’ve missed that tight cunt …”

Tension clenches Aemond’s jaw minutely, then evenly he says, “Go ahead. By my guest.”

But when Aegon tries to grab for one of the sweets, Aemond snatches it away, and stuffs the package with care in his bag. He then stands up and gathers all his things, stalking away without another word.

Aegon heaves a sigh, incredulously asking, “What’s his problem?!”

Ramsay smirks, letting out a chuckle. “Oh, this is going to be fun …”

You managed to catch Professor Tarth before she left the campus, so your next and final stop for the dessert delivery is your favorite teacher, your literature professor, Davos Seaworth.

You find him in his office and he does not even hesitate to dig into the double mocha cheesecake in his sweets package.

“How many extra credits do you want for this?” He asks, pointing at the cheesecake he is almost finished. “I’ll give you as many as you want.”

You laugh while shaking your head, flipping through a book he had just given you to read at your leisure. “No credits! But I’ll make sure to bring you more of that one next time!”

Knowing Sansa, next time will be pretty soon.

“Hmm… alright…” Davos trails off, dabbing his beard with a napkin. “By the way, have you signed up for the poetry slam I told you about?”

You sink into your seat, the one across the desk he is sitting at, sheepishly grinning at him, “Not yet…”

Davos hums out disgruntledly. “And why not?”

“I completely forgot about it,” you say with a shrug, you know, like a liar.

In truth, it’s all you’ve been thinking about. The poetry slam competition at Moon Door Cafe, where the winner will win a 5k cheque and their poetry collection published in a book — both of which you need and want, respectively.

“You better, ____. I’ve already told my friend to look out for you.”

“Okay, then I will,” you try to tell him, but Davos keeps his skeptical gaze on you. “I promise I’ll send in an email tonight!”

Then, once again like a liar, you don’t.

Two days later, Aemond finds himself standing by your apartment door, his life getting threatened by the muted snarling of the biggest wolf he has ever seen, so early in the morning.

“Ghost, stop… ” Jon Snow frowns at the white direwolf that still has its teeth bared at Aemond. Jon gently pushes the wolf aside, opening the door wider to allow Aemond to step inside. “Don’t worry, he won’t bite… He’s just… uh… I don’t even know what his problem is today…” Jon sends Aemond a weak smile, “He’s usually pretty friendly…”

Aemond eyes the wolf before turning to Jon. “It’s fine. I’m not really good with animals.”

Jon offers him a slow nod, then informs Aemond, “____’s just in a washroom. Getting ready, I think?”

Aemond hums just as Jon presents his hand. “I don’t think we’ve properly met, I’m Jon. ____’s roommate, and uh… best friend?”

Aemond shifts the coffee tray over to hold with just one hand to shake it. “Aemond. Why do you sound unsure?”

Jon laughs softly, “Oh, I don’t know…”

Aemond eyes him for a second then hums again. He remembers you telling him about how awkward Jon is, so that might be it.

Aemond then glances around the small space — a living room, kitchen, and dining room all in one — it’s homely and cozy, and he can definitely picture you in here. Flitting around, watering the plants, dancing to the music playing from the vinyl player, cooking in the kitchenette…

“Oh, hey! I went with ____ to your dad’s place yesterday!”

The smile on Aemond’s face falls just when he turns to see Jon grinning wide at him.

“He’s really awesome! And a hell of a Cyvasse player — I think he beat me in just four turns!” Jon recalls with a laugh.

Aemond exhales heavily, offering Jon a tight-lipped smile. “That’s… great.”

Feeling the awkward tension finally, Jon rubs a hand at the back of his neck. “Oh, uh… yeah…”

“Whoa, hey! What are you doing here?”

Aemond glances over to where Ghost pads to, and his eye widen and balks when he sees you just wrapped in a tiny towel.

You walk around your apartment like this — with Jon just in the room?!

He then swerves his stare at Jon who looks unmoved but looking at you as well.

“I think he brought you breakfast,” Jon tells you all nonchalantly, and Aemond lifts up the coffee tray he is carrying dumbly.

Your whole face lights up, smiling wide at him, so much brighter than the sun coming through the windows, “Aw, that’s so sweet! Wait, let me get dressed first!” You hurry into your room, slamming the door behind you and Ghost who follows you in.

“Is this for the desserts I gave you!?” He hears you call from behind the door. “Because you really didn’t have to!”

“It’s–” he starts to call out, but you are already walking out your room. And although it took you less than a minute, you look absolutely… breathtaking.

Aemond will not admit it, but his heart leaps to his throat; staring at you all slack jawed and short of breath.

You bounce to him cheerfully; Ghost in tow, now happier as well by the way his tail wags. You grab one of the paper bags on the tray, opening it to find an almond croissant. “ Oooh , but I won’t say no!” You smile at him gratefully, “Thank you! ”

Aemond takes a hard swallow, and finds himself smiling back, “No problem.”

As he sets the tray down on the small round kitchen table, you break off a piece of the croissant and offer it to Jon to taste. Aemond watches the interaction with a frown on his face. He shakes it off with a shake of his head, and pulls out one of the cups from the tray, handing it to you, “This is for you.”

You take it happily, but as you read through the label the barista had messily written on the cup, your face begins to falter. “Oh, um…”

Aemond’s expression hardens. “You don’t like lattes?”

“No! I love lattes!” You quickly say. “It’s great–”

“She’s lactose intolerant,” Jon explains and Aemond’s face falls.

“It’s all good! I can just take lactaid!”

“But you hate hot drinks…”

“Jon… You’re not helping…” You tell your best friend through gritted teeth.

“But it’s freezing outside,” Aemond states, so he thought you’d appreciate something warm for this chilly morning…

“Okay, don’t judge me…” you glare playfully at Aemond. “I like iced drinks! Is that such a crime?”

Aemond shakes his head, though he is still frowning. “No, it’s not…”

Your head tilts at the look on his face, confused. “Aemond…”

“Here, give it to me,” Jon says, reaching for the cup in your hand. Once he has it, he goes to the cupboard, pulling out a water bottle. Then from the freezer, he grabs an ice tray, putting ice and the latte into the bottle before handing it back to you.

“There,” Jon says with a satisfied grin. “All better for Miss Fussy.”

“Fuck you,” you huff out, and yet you laugh and your tone fond. “But what would I do without you?”

“I honestly don’t even know…”

As Aemond glances between you and your best friend sharing a smile, a strange feeling stirs inside him.

“Is this your first time taking the bus?”

Aemond glares your way for your senseless question. “Of course not.”

But as he struggles to make himself comfortable on the seat beside yours, you have to giggle to yourself. It’s definitely his first time.

Aemond rolls his eye and ignores your tittering.

Aemond’s annoyed, and rightfully so. You and him had a perfectly good ride to school but you insisted on taking the bus so Aemond let his driver go for the day to accompany you.

“Theon calls her a bus wanker,” Aemond remembers Jon saying earlier with a laugh while you got your school bag from your room.

At the puzzled look on Aemond’s face, Jon frowned, “You know… Like from the show… The Inbetweeners?”

Still confused, Jon finally told him, “It’s one of _____’s favorite shows. We, uh, rewatch it every few years together.”

And there Jon goes, once again reminding Aemond the history between the two of you. How he knows everything there is to know about you.

Now that’s a wanker , Aemond thinks a little too spitefully.

Whatever, it doesn't even matter. Once Aemond finishes what he needs to do, he does not even need to know or remember all your favorite things anymore. All that knowledge will be useless to him in the future.

Crossing his arms against his chest, Aemond huffs haughtily, nostrils flaring. He grimaces; something smells strange in there, and he feels eyes on him. It’s a kid, unabashedly staring at him — or more particularly, his eyepatch. Aemond is sure that the boy is the reason for foul stench also, so he glowers at him, mouth pulled back in the sneer.

He turns to you, about to ask why you enjoy riding on this godforsaken public transit ride, but then his expression lightens when he finds you staring out the window, a sleepy yet faraway look clouding your face. Your brows are furrowed, too deep in thought during such a bumpy ride, for so early in the morning.

“What are you thinking about?” Aemond inquires a bit too softly as if his mouth moved faster than his mind, but it still pulls you out of your haze.

You grin at him, head shaking. “It’s…”

Sighing, you pull out your phone to find something, then once you do, you hand it over to him.

Aemond tries not be bothered by the notifications that keeps popping up —

fellowship of the cool people + theon Jon 🐺— dinner at mine and ____’s tonight??

(Aemond refrains from rolling his eye.)

fellowship of the cool people + theon 🌈MeerMeer 🌼— 👍 — i’ll bring the weed

fellowship of the cool people + theon Robb 🐸— oh hell yeah!

fellowship of the cool people + theon GreyNoJoy 🦑— i’ll bring the best thing… myself 🥰

fellowship of the cool people + theon Margie 🌹❤️— ew

And Aemond focuses on the webpage you pulled up instead.

It is a Poetry Slam competition hosted by one of the best Music and Arts publications in the whole six continents, R'hllor Stone, at the Moon Door Cafe which is close by the Vale U campus. The winner gets a 5k cash prize, a book of their poetry published, and a full double-page feature in the magazine.

And the last day to sign up is… Today, at midnight.

“You haven’t signed up yet, have you?”

“Nope,” you tell him, popping the ‘p’.

After handing you back your phone, Aemond hums for a moment, in thought. “Why not?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, shrugging. “I guess I haven’t been super confident in my latest pieces, so it’s a bit daunting to send it in to be judged.”

“Do you want me to look over it? Give you my honest opinion?”

You make a face. Because hell no . Aemond is the last person you want to be reading your poetry. Mr. Psychology Major will probably psychoanalyze your musings and deem you crazy – or just plain stupid, which is more likely.

“Well if it’s like the one you recently published on the school’s Instagram page, then I think it’s more than adequate.”

You whip your head to stare wide-eyed at him. Shocked. Flabbergasted. Befuddled.

“ You read that?!”

Aemond flushes bright red, like he had not meant to confess that out loud.

“It’s our stop,” He declares to move on from the subject, standing up suddenly to push at the button on one of the handles for the bus to stop.

“Wait, Aemond —”

But he doesn’t wait, knowing you are following behind him.

Aemond gets off the bus first, then turns to offer you his hand to help with the steps.

Aemond can’t help but note how your hand slips so easily into his. So warm against the cold that he finds himself holding onto you a little tighter.

Once you are both off the bus, Aemond glances around, clearly lost. He’s never seen this area of the campus before…

“Yeah… This isn’t our stop. We still had four to go,” You tell him with a snarky chuckle. When he glares at you, you defend yourself quickly, “Hey! I tried to tell you!”

Aemond huffs a bit petulantly then starts to drag you the same direction the bus drove away at.

He also can’t help but note that you let him hold your hand until he walks you to the building of your first class.

untitled playlist

🎵 dreams tonite · alvvays

The call arrives five days later, when you are studying in one of the libraries on campus.

You step away to pick it up, with Aemond raising a brow at you.

(The two of you have been spending a lot of time together. Too much, maybe.

Margaery jokes they’ve all been replaced. Theon says he’s officially your boyfie . Robb tells you to be careful.

You tell them all to mind their business. And that the two of you are NOT dating.

Aemond is just a friend, and nothing more.)

You find a secluded aisle before you answer your phone. “Hello?”

“Good afternoon… Am I speaking to ____ ____?” The sultry voice from the other side asks.

“Yes, speaking…”

“Wonderful. I’m Melisandre, the editor-in-chief for R'hllor Stone—”

“I know who you are!” You squeal, a little too excitedly. You press your fingers to your mouth, eyelids squeezing shut in mortification. “Sorry, I’m sorry… I’ll, um…”

Melisandre laughs. “It’s quite alright! I’m just as excited as you are… I’ve read through your poetry portfolio for the Poetry Slam contest and I’m impressed…”

“You are…?” You ask, voice small and timid.

“I am,” Even through the phone, you can hear her smile. “I called to congratulate you for making it through the next round.”

You gasp. “Really?!” Earning you a shhhh! from someone an aisle over.

She laughs again and reassures you that it’s no joke. Then she informs you that she’ll be sending an email with more details soon — on what the theme will be, the schedule, etc.

“I’m glad Davos told me to look out for you. I can’t wait to meet you in person, ____,” Melisandre says before saying her goodbye and hanging up.

Your mouth drops in shock.

Oh… Your favorite professor will definitely be getting an earful from you… How many times have you gushed the works of Melisandre to him and he never once mentioned she was the friend he was talking about?

Well, an earful after you thank him profusely.

Speaking of saying thanks…

You head back to Aemond, standing by where he sits and motion for him to stand. His gaze is quizzical, so you do it again — your palm up in an upward motion, nodding as your eyes flutter shut with a cute grin.

As if annoyed, Aemond let’s out a soft huff of hot air. But you think you know him at least a little bit better now, and it’s just a front he puts up. You’re starting to believe that his dad is right — that underneath all that cold exterior is a sweet guy deep inside.

And you want to be the one to melt his icy, cold heart.

As a friend, of course .

As soon as he stands, you throw yourself at him, hugging around his tiny waist. He staggers back with an oof! You laugh, jumping back just as quickly as you were on him.

You think you might have broken his brain a bit by the way stares at you with his eye wide and his mouth open dumbly.

“What are you—? What was that—?”

He can’t seem to choose which question to ask, so you save him the trouble and say, “I made it into the Poetry Slam contest. And I hugged you because you were the reason I sent in my application,” with your hand on your hips cocked to the side, you tease, “I figured if your pretentious ass liked my stuff then what am I afraid of?”

Unsure, Aemond says, “You’re welcome…?”

You chuckle, grinning wide. “No, seriously… thank you.”

He wets his lips then smiles too — that genuine smile again. The one you’ve been seeing more and more of each and every day.

“Congratulations,” he says. And is it weird to say you think he looks proud of you?

Unexpectedly shy all of the sudden under his gaze, you start to shift nervously side to side. “Do you… Want to… come watch?”

Then a bit more hurriedly, you prattle on, “You don’t have to or anything! Just – If you’re not doing anything! It’s on a Saturday so you probably have better things to do—“

You stop babbling when Aemond shoves his phone screen your way. It’s on the calendar app, and on the last Saturday of the month, in two weeks, he has it marked off as “____’s poetry slam, @ moon door cafe, 1 PM”.

Feeling thrown, you look away from the screen to meet his eye. “How did you…?”

Shrugging, Aemond puts his phone back into his pocket.

“I guess I had a feeling,” He smirks confidently. “You’re too headstrong to not at least give it a try…” The smirk then shifts into something warmer, his face softening. “And of course I’ll come… I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Aemond looks a little hazy then — like a dream.

And your stomach? Full of stupid butterflies.

untitled playlist

🎵 the start of something · voxtrot

The theme for the competition is Romantic Love.

Which makes sense since the R’hllor Stone cover artist for the issue that the slam poetry winner will be featured in is the pop darling, Luvie — the stage name of Myrcella Baratheon.

Yes, the same Myrcella Baratheon who is the daughter of Cersei Lannister. Weirdly enough, the scandal breaking out didn’t affect her career at all. There was a very brief moment that people were making rumors that her and her brothers were really the children of their uncle, Jaime Lannister, and not their late political figure father, Robert Baratheon. But that was squashed rather quickly. It’s impressive. Luvie has got to have the best PR team ever — people did not even realize she was an industry plant and a nepo baby until two years into her career. But then again, her other uncle, Tyrion Lannister, is also the most prolific lawyer of this time.

Enough about Luvie. If you could, you’d talk about it all day. Probably the worst trait about you — your love for celebrity gossip. You’d eat up a cheating scandal between two married daytime news anchors that committed adultery on their spouses with each other even if you’ve never watched their program even once in your life.

Besides, you don’t have time to dwell on celeb gossip. With the competition coming up and the days rushing by so quickly, you needed all your free time to focus on writing the piece for it.

Only problem is, it’s been awfully hard to come up with something. It’s like there is a block in your mind every time you grab a notebook or open up the notes app on your phone.

You already know the main issue for that…

You’ve never been in love before.

Deep infatuation? Sure.

But love love? Never ever.

And it’s not like you’re a closed off and guarded person. Quite the opposite. You wear your heart on your sleeve. Your love languages are the neediest of the five: physical touch and words of affirmation. You date with the intent of making the relationship become something serious, every single time. And still… nothing.

“It’s so bad ...!” You groan, scratching out another line on the current poem you’ve been working on for the past two days. You read the whole thing over – all five stanzas already written – and deem the whole poem awful. You turn the page to a blank one, needing to start over all over again.

When nothing comes after minutes passing, you let out a resigned sigh, slumping on the wooden stool you’re on and say out loud to the room, “I give up. I’m gonna call Melisandre and tell her to pull me out of the competition.”

The only other person in said room with you snorts. You turn to glare at Meera, who meets your gaze for a second with a grin and then continues to water the plants in the room.

The two of you are at the floral shop Meera works at. You thought a change in scenery would be good for inspiration. Clearly not — not even being surrounded by the flowers that people often associate with love helped with anything.

“I’m serious, Meer!”

“Sure you are…” she playfully indulges with a roll of her eyes. “You’re a little too headstrong to give up that easily.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?!” You cross your arms, pouting to yourself.

“Cause it’s true,” Meera simply says. She then sets herself at the wooden work table in the back of the room and calls for you to join her. Laying on the table is the ugliest flower you’ve ever seen in your life.

She hands you the little printed out online order sheet. As you read it over, she heads over to the flower buckets to peruse the selections.

“ I request a bouquet with kale, it’s the salad my darling ate on our first date, ” you read out loud, face twisting in disgust after the fact. You eye the purple and green monstrosity on the table, “Ew, how romantic . Does this dude even know how ugly kale is?”

“Probably not,” Meera laughs. She comes back with various bunches of different stems of flowers in her gloved hand. “But I wanted to show you something…”

She picks up the kale first, showing you again. “Horrid, right?”

“Yeah. Ugliest fucker ever.”

Chuckling, Meera starts to trim it. “That may be true, but I need it to be the star of this bouquet and find a way to make it… pleasant on the eyes.”

You hum, nodding as you watch her work.

“Sometimes… Something good can come from nothing… I didn’t have any particular feelings about ornamental kale before but the more I worked with it… The more inspired I became… and then…”

Meera adds one last sprig of baby’s breath to the arrangement.

“There!”

You are in shock… Somehow, Meera managed to make the kale bouquet beautiful — bringing out the purple with white hydrangeas, baby’s breath, and heather. You would even spend money on it yourself. No wonder Robb always goes to Meera for flowers whenever Margaery is mad at him. You tell her all that yourself.

Meera laughs in thanks, then concludes, “So what I’m trying to say is… Pick a subject. Embellish your feelings a little. You don’t really have to be in love or have been in love to write about it… Do you really think Taylor Swift had real and genuine feelings for the Owl City guy when she wrote the masterpiece that is Enchanted?”

You gasp, eyes lighting up — everything clearer to you. “Oh my god! You’re so right!” You sniff then, grabbing a hold of her hand and squeezing it, “Meera… You speak Swiftie now.”

She groans, slapping a palm on her forehead. “You, Sansa, Margaery, and Theon have ruined me.”

You giggle a bit, before your face falls to a pout.

“Who am I supposed to write about though?” You ask with a dramatic and forlorn sigh, going back to your little stool by the cash register.

Meera shrugs, wrapping up the bouquet prettily. “Just someone, anyone… Whoever comes to mind first?”

At her words, you think of a violet eye and a face so taut and sour as if they had just sucked on a lemon.

You laugh to yourself.

Then your pen hits the paper, and the words begin to flow.

Aemond arrives at Moon Door Cafe early when there are plenty of empty seats available, but still sticks to the wall at the back of the room. He already caught sight of your friends at a table near the stage and yet he did not make an effort to greet them. It’s not like they’re his friends, he hasn’t even met any of them formally except for Jon. And he does not want to make fake pleasantries with Jon. There’s just something about the guy he does not like.

So he stays at the back of the cafe until the room fills and the lights go down.

He looks over the pamphlet he was given at the door, and sees that you are the fourth to last to go up out of the 15 contestants. Which means he’ll be here for a while. Aemond frowns in discontent.

He’s not really much for poetry — he’ll devour any form of literature except poetry. Which is funny, considering he has a few written about him in the form of a song.

But he supposes after reading a few of yours… Yours weren’t all too terrible. He can ever dare say he likes a few of them.

So that’s the only reason he’s staying… Just to listen.

He has been curious. He didn’t know you did any spoken poetry, all the ones he has seen of yours were written. But you must have at least some experience with it, one of the requirements for the portfolio was two examples of spoken poetry.

Aemond wonders if you’d be clamorous, if your words will be punctuated with cheerful sarcasm like always.

He grins to himself.

And how about the theme? Romantic love… Who did you write about?

His gaze flits to the front of the room at the man with the dark curly hair and unkempt beard and scowls. He watches him smile wide and snap his fingers for the poet on stage. Then suddenly he stands up, clapping and hooting with the rest of his friends.

That’s when Aemond realizes that you were getting on the stage. He didn’t notice that many performers had gone up already, none of them really held his attention. Until now.

He straightens up a little, snapping his fingers with the rest of the room.

You walk to the mic, confident. If you hadn’t texted him about how nervous you were earlier when he texted you to ‘Break a leg.’, he would have bought the front you were putting up.

You’ve already been introduced by Melisandre, so all you have to do now is just go straight into your poem.

You smile at the crowd, disarming them with your charm, before you take a tentative breath and —

If I could, I'd be your little spoon

And kiss your fingers forevermore

But, big spoon, you have so much to do

And I have nothing ahead of me

There is a song-like cadence to your soft voice, as if you were singing. It draws him in, hanging onto your every word.

You're the sun, you've never seen the night

But you hear its song from the morning birds

Well, I'm not the moon, I'm not even a star

But awake at night I'll be singing to the birds

Aemond is enraptured. Enchanted. Beguiled.

Don't wait for me, I can't come

Your mother wouldn't approve of how my mother raised me

But I do, I think I do

He had no idea that simple poetry could move him like this.

You're the one

You're all I ever wanted

I think I'll regret this

Your stare is fixed, not on anyone. Just a faraway, melancholy gaze on nothing in particular. It makes you look all the more hauntingly beautiful. Aemond finds himself willing you to look at him.

You don’t.

Your mother wouldn't approve of how my mother raised me

But I do, I finally do

Instead, when you finish, your gaze flicks to the front of the room with a tender smile — at him .

Aemond feels his chest tighten a little.

The room fills with loud snapping as you descend the stage, and once your feet hit the floor, you are being lifted at the waist and hugged tight by Jon Snow.

Aemond watches on bitterly for a couple more seconds, expression pinching at the way Jon joyfully spins the two of you around, then turns to leave.

He waits at the front of the cafe for his chauffeur, tapping his foot impatiently on the ground.

“You’re really leaving without congratulating me?”

Aemond wets his mouth indignantly. He knew he should have texted Podrick to meet him earlier.

“You haven’t won yet,” Is all Aemond says as he turns to look at you, a smirk curling his lips.

You glare at him, arms crossing against your chest.

“Gods. Are you always such a dick? I know I haven’t won yet… I don’t even think I will win. I meant just… congratulating me for even putting myself up there,” you frown, looking off to the side, trying to blink away the hurt.

Seven Hells , Aemond sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He just can’t seem to keep his mouth shut, can he? He always has a penchant to make everything worse.

Stuffing his hands into his coat pockets, Aemond takes a step towards you. “You were… Amazing up there,” You eye him warily, disbelieving, so he continues, “I mean it… You got me hanging onto your every word. Congrats.”

“Thanks…” You murmur from the corner of your mouth, bashful. It was your turn then to take a step towards him, still glowering at him when you say, “But you didn’t even say hi, and now you’re trying to leave without even saying goodbye.”

“My apologies. I didn’t want to keep you from celebrating with your boyfriend ,” Aemond says, tone clipped.

Did you hear that right, Aemond thinks you have a — “Boyfriend…?”

“You and Jon are dating, aren’t you?”

You’d laugh if it wasn't so ridiculous. “No! Jon’s dating Sansa! And besides that, he’s just my best friend. Wait a second… Did you think we’re dating cause he’s my roommate ?”

“No, but…” Aemond shakes his head, unable to grasp what you are telling him. He already made this whole story up in his head. “You fancy him, don’t you?”

“No!” You almost gag at the thought. Because, ew.

“You don’t have to lie to me, ___,” Aemond scoffs, taking another step towards you. “You find him attractive, don’t you?”

“I mean…” You think about it for a second. Jon’s your best friend and you’ve never had romantic feelings for him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have eyes! And besides, even if you didn’t find Jon attractive, you’re not about to bash his looks for no reason at all. “Have you seen the guy?”

“I have and I’m not impressed,” Aemond tuts with a roll of his eye.

“Maybe it’s because you only have one eye?” The rhetorical question slips from your mouth before you could even stop it.

You are frozen as Aemond’s mouth drops slightly before it closes to press into a hard thin line. He is mad, and understandably so.

“Wait, Aemond, I didn’t mean it like th—”

“So how did you mean it?” In an instant, he is in front of you, nostrils flared. His violet eye alight with a simmering burning, “So I guess it’s because I only have one eye that I find you attractive?”

Your gaze widens and your cheeks are burning up. Did he just…?

That’s when you notice that Aemond looks just as shocked. But only for a second. If he had not meant to say that aloud, the blank look he puts on carefully hides it well. It is the flush high on his cheekbones and the heavy rise and fall of his chest that gives him away though.

You look up at him, keenly aware of his proximity. A warmth spreads through you at how much he towers over you. He can definitely manhandle you in the way that you like. And the way his domineering gaze pinned you to the spot makes you desperately long for him to pin you against a wall instead.

You start to laugh. Loud at that.

Because you realize an undeniable truth…

You want him. Gods. You want Aemond Targaryen.

Even more now that you know he wants you as well.

The admittance makes you laugh more.

And so, with no preamble at all and just straight to the point, you ask him—

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

Aemond stares at you like you’re insane.

Then, as if without any doubt in his mind, he says — yes.

a.t.

🎵 there’s a light that never goes out · the smiths

Even though you were the one to ask him out, Aemond offers to plan the date.

You didn’t mind. Between school, work, and stressing about the results of the competition, you were just going to take him to the movies. Which, looking back now, is lame; and you highly doubt you’ll get a second date if you forced Aemond to sit through a movie about a killer AI doll.

So you let him take the reins — surprise me , you told him with a wink after letting him know which days the next two weeks that you’d be free.

Four days after the competition, Aemond surprises you — or maybe more so Theon, who screams out girlishly when Aemond appeared directly behind him when the silver haired man approached you and your friends during lunch in the southern building cafeteria.

Theon still has his hand over his heart, halfway off the bench, but Aemond disregards him to tell you, “I’ll pick you up at 4 tomorrow for our date. Be sure to be ready.”

Then he saunters off.

“He’s so intense… it’s kinda sexy,” Margaery says.

Your other friends admit their agreement in various degrees of reluctance as you all watch Aemond’s back retreating until he is out of the room.

“Where do you think he’s going to take you?” Sansa asks eagerly, leaning on the table to get closer to you.

You give her an exaggerated shrug as an answer just as Theon comments, “Probably somewhere so fun… The library!”

You successfully shove him off the bench he is still precariously on. He lands on his ass on the floor but he is guffawing at his own joke.

“Nah… He’ll definitely take her to the fanciest restaurant in the Vale, book it all out so it’s just the two of them, and then confess he’s been in love with her since they were 14,” Meera says with a scrunch of her nose. “Real straight people shit.”

“Oh, I know where he’ll take her,” Robb says, straightening up confidently for everyone’s attention. “Into the forest, where there will be a clearing, and then he’ll rip off his shirt to show ____ that he… sparkles.”

Your friends start howling with laughter at that, so loud that students from other tables turn to look. You’re laughing too, but quieter, pouting with both your hands pressed on your face from embarrassment.

“You’re all awful!” You moan. “And you know what?! Maybe I want him to be Edward Cullen, maybe then I can tell him to drain the blood of all my “so-called” best friends!”

“Have fun playing baseball in the forest tomorrow, then,” Jon teases, causing your friends to laugh more.

Sweeping a glare at all of them, you bite out, “I. will. Thank you!”

From Aemond

— Please dress warm and comfortably.

As you read the new text while you are getting ready for the date, a shiver goes down your spine.

Oh Gods.

He is taking you to a forest, isn’t he?

If Aemond is a vampire, you wouldn’t be surprised. But you have seen him growing up, so maybe not.

You groan, shoving off the silky dress you had wanted to wear. It’s so pretty, but you doubt that it will be comfortable or warm enough for a trek through the woods.

So you settle with a white turtleneck under a red cardigan, dark blue jeans, a Sherpa lined shearling leather jacket, and broken-in Docs.

Comfortable, warm, and cute.

You grin at your reflection through the mirror just as you receive another text.

From Aemond

— I’m waiting downstairs.

After giving yourself another once over and grabbing your purse for the day, you text back:

To Aemond

— coming ☺️ !!!

When you step out of your room, three pairs of eyes turn your way, ignoring the Super Smash Bros round they’re playing to annoy you all the way out the door with their comments and shiteating grins.

“You look pretty, ___!”

“Thanks Jon!”

“Have fun and use protection!”

“Take your own advice, Robb!”

“Say hi to your boyfie for us!”

You roll your eyes, shutting the door behind you, catching the last thing Theon says, “Look! She didn’t even deny it!”

Usually, you’d take the stairs down. Your unit is on the fifth floor (the highest of the building) so it’s not so bad. But you didn’t want to look winded before the date even starts, so the terrifyingly unreliable elevator it is.

Luckily, by the grace of the Sevens, you didn’t get stuck. So you’re a little too chipper when you find Aemond waiting at the lobby — especially since he looks so incredibly handsome in his long black wool coat, cream fisherman sweater, black fitted slacks, and a pair of black leather Chelsea boots.

Maybe it’s a trick of the light, but he seems pleasantly delighted when he sees you. Nothing overt, but it’s definitely a change from how he used to be when you got near him before. You remember always sniffing yourself when you were teens, because he acted like you had the strongest BO. You didn’t, you smelled like fresh laundry and maybe on your worst days, fresh cut grass and the sun since you spent a lot of time outdoors when at the Arryn mansion.

You walk to Aemond, and he unclasps his hands from where he held them behind his back to turn fully towards you.

As a greeting, you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck that was wrapped in a soft alpaca wool grey scarf.

You can tell Aemond is not used to physical affection by the way he stiffens against you —just like the last time. But you hold on a little longer, liking the bergamot and amberwood smell that lingers on him.

Just when you think you aren't going to get anything back, about to let him go; you feel his arms wrap around your waist. A little loose, enough that when you step back you are easily free from his hold, but it’s a start.

You beam up at him, and he holds your gaze for a bit before he looks off to the side, his cheeks a light scarlet. It’s adorable that he is so easily flustered.

He clears his throat then gives you a glance over. “You look… warm.” He gives a nod of approval. “Good.”

“But do I look…” With a mischievous smile, you poke at his stomach, “… attractive?”

His face darkens to a deeper maroon, pressing his lips together. “You’re really going to hold that over my head, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” you tell him a toothy grin. Stuffing your hands into your coat pockets, you start to slowly rock back and forth from your heels to your toes as you sing-song your own confession, “If it makes you feel better… I think you look really good today… My jaw nearly fell to the floor when I saw you.”

Aemond’s hand flies to press against his mouth, coughing into his palms. He might be choking, you have no idea. But you’re sure if he wasn’t blushing before, he would be tomato red right now.

He takes a shaky breath, regarding you as his hand falls back to his side. “How are you always this straightforward?”

You shrug with your mouth downturned. “I have no filter sometimes.”

Aemond lets out an amused huff. At least you know.

His gaze falls over you again, flickering across your features in quiet contemplation for a moment or two.

“You look lovely.”

At his soft tone, your breathing hitches and your mouth slightly parts. He tracks the slow movement, wetting his own lips.

But he does not even give you time to respond, turning to glare at the door to change the subject, “I drove here. Are you alright with taking my car or do I need Podrick to pick it up?”

“I’m not anti-car, or anything. We can drive there,” you tell him with no joking lilt or sassiness in your tone, just even. Perhaps still a bit stunned at his compliment.

“Could have fooled me,” Aemond says, chuckling lightheartedly, his fingers touching the metrocard in his pocket. It’s new. You had dragged him to the nearest bus station after his fourth time riding on one with you. You were beyond exasperated of seeing him stuff a ten or twenty dollar bill into the fare slot since he never has any change or anything smaller for the £3 fare. He has used it quite a lot already, and always only with you, realizing just then how often the two of you have been spending time together.

“Let’s go?” He asks, cocking his head to the door.

When you nod, Aemond presses his hand against the small of your back, leading you outside.

The heat of his palm has you flushing and your stomach doing somersaults, even long after he has taken it off you to hold the door open for you to get into his cream Volvo P1800 S Coupe.

You haven’t felt this nervous for a date in quite a while — and you don’t know whether that’s a good thing or bad thing yet.

Aemond has the prettiest hands.

Delicate and dainty, yet also spans big and strong. Not to mention the veins that run along his hands are mouthwateringly attractive, bulging whenever he grips the leather steering wheel.

He could be a musician if he wanted — or a hand model. You’re sure he’d have a million Twitter fan accounts dedicated to just his hands alone.

Maybe you should have let Aemond drive you around all those times he had offered.

He looks so effortlessly cool as he spins the wheel with just the palm of his hands, checks the rear view mirror, and keeps his concentration on the road.

You have not stopped staring at him.

Maybe you should stop because he is starting to notice. His gaze flickers to the side at you every so often with that usual low humming sound he makes.

In an effort to distract yourself, you lean forward to turn on the radio.

How did you make it so long without music playing in the background?

Oh right. You were too busy admiring Aemond to notice anything else.

The speaker starts blaring and it’s no surprise that Aemond’s stereo system is only of the highest quality. A sweet, melodic voice resounds in the compact space.

— say, "I'm done," but I'm still confused,

How am I supposed to close the door when I still need the closure?

And I change my mind, but it's still on you,

How am I supposed to leave you now —

Aemond is so quick to turn it off that your mouth parts slightly in mild shock.

“We’re here,” is what he says when you glance over at him, and he is pulling his car onto a parking spot beside the curb of a cobblestones sidewalk.

You let out a laugh, “Oh my god. I was about to ask what did Luvie do to you by how aggressively you turned off the radio!”

“My bad,” he says with a wan grin before getting out of his car.

He’s at your side of the car, opening the door, before you even get the seatbelt off.

“Thanks,” you say, taking his hand to step out. While Aemond pays for parking, you take a look around at where he brought you for the date.

Elation spreads through you as you take in the quaint area with the brick warehouse buildings, pretty stringed lights hanging from street lamps to street lamps, and all beautiful street art spray painted on the walls. It’s the Distillery Village, a hip part of the city just a bit a ways away from the heart of downtown Vale.

You used to love going here when you were younger. But now, not so much. It’s still beautiful there, but it has become a hot date spot for young couples over the years. And it’s not like you really had any partners that you had gotten serious enough to want to take there, less they ruin your fond memories of the place.

You remember going here a few times with the Targaryen family. You wonder if Aemond remembers that too.

“Ready?” Aemond asks, walking towards you.

Smiling, you nod, your hand reaching to catch a hold of two of his fingers.

Aemond pulls away, making your heart stutter dolefully — only for him to intertwine his fingers between yours, his hold firm yet gentle. You flutter your lashes at him, questioning, and he shrugs. “More comfortable this way.”

The two of you walk around like that, hand in hand and with a cup of coffee in the other.

(Aemond ordered for you. He has your latte order perfected now, and you have his. You had him pegged as a Sunspearino kind of guy – black with no sugar – but surprisingly, Aemond has a sweet tooth. He likes his cappuccino with two pumps of caramel.)

You are having a nice time with Aemond. Window shopping, trying out desserts from every cute spot you pass, taking time to admire all the art in the area.

Maybe it’s his hands holding yours, but your nerves eased quickly and you are back to your old self in no time.

Perhaps too comfortable. You are talking Aemond’s ear off about the fluffiness of the cream puff the two of you just had, when you realize he hasn’t said much in the past few minutes. So you abruptly stop to glance wearily towards Aemond, somewhat afraid that you are boring or annoying him with your incessant yapping, but you find his fond gaze already on you.

“I’m glad you’re back to being yourself again,” Aemond says, still leading you on the cobblestone path. “I was worried earlier. You were too quiet in the car.”

“I was nervous!” You confess a bit too shrilly.

“Oh?” The light smile that was on Aemond’s face twists into a cocky smirk. “Do I make you nervous, ____?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “ Was nervous… Past-tense, Aemond.”

The smirk is still on his lips when he replies with a playful and disbelieving mmhmm .

You turn away, laughing to yourself. You’re happy that he is joking around with you more, it makes you feel that the two of you are really starting to get closer.

You end up stopping at the busiest part of the village, where most couples and families conjugate at the plaza square, sitting on the steps that surround a huge reflecting pool. In the warmer months, the shallow pool is a pretty fountain to look at for outdoor picnics; but in the winter, it is frozen over as a skating rink.

Leaning your arms against the railing that surrounds the top of the steps, you watch the ice skaters with stars in your eyes.

You had once wanted to be a professional figure skater because of Val, the Free Folk figure skater that stole the heart of the entire nation when you were younger, when she competed and won all the singles figure skating titles during her first Harrenhal Winter Games.

Your father even paid for ice skating lessons after you begged your parents for weeks to learn. You were over the moon, telling everyone who would listen about it, about how you are going to be the next Val. Your dreams were crushed after a certain 16 year old teenage boy scoffed, “No, you won’t.’ when he overheard you telling his sister.

Remembering this, you whip your head to glare at your date.

Aemond startles at your sudden heated expression, eye widening.

“Do you… Want to go skating?” He asks, unsure.

You turn your nose up at him, grimacing. “Yes. I do.”

Now you truly remember why you didn’t become the next top figure skater and quit your lessons after the 4th class… You sucked at it.

For some reason, your body does not agree with the skates. You’re always off-kilter, that you spent the first ten minutes clutching onto the railings instead of skating.

Aemond, on the other hand, is a natural on the ice — so graceful it’s envious. If you did not know he is from the south, he would have definitely earned the title of ‘Ice Prince’ this way like some sort of Northern Royalty.

He watches as your wobbly legs try to catch up to him in mirthful silence. The bastard looks like he is going to burst out laughing at any given second.

With brows furrowed together, he asks, “Didn’t you take lessons?”

“I quit after four classes…” You tell him through clenched teeth, shaky arms out in front of you to keep your balance.

“Why?” Is the asshole’s next question.

Burning him with a glare that can rival a thousand suns, you wave your hands from your head to your waist, presenting him yourself, shaking precariously like a newborn giraffe. The motion has you slipping and hurriedly catching yourself with a choked out ‘ whoa!’ . You don’t even know how that happened — you are not even moving!

And that did it, Aemond couldn’t hold it in anymore, he laughs so hard that he is throwing his head back.

You sneer at him, and it makes him laugh more.

“I’m — I’m s– so sorry,” he tries, but he is still laughing, so it doesn’t feel very genuine to you. If you could cross your arms, you would. But that would throw you off your balance more, so you just give him a stink face, nose scrunched and mouth pursed in distaste for his lack of common courtesy.

“You’re such an as–” Suddenly, you are slipping again except you couldn’t steady yourself fast enough. But before you could hit the ground, Aemond swiftly wraps his arms around you and catches you. So easily, like he had at the party.

You straighten up quickly, still embarrassed, muttering a thank you under your breath. “You’re still an asshole though.”

Aemond licks his lips, lets out a laugh and nods briefly in acceptance. “Let me make it up to you.”

Aemond takes both your hands in his, and then carefully, he helps you get your footing right, skating backwards as he guides you along the ice. It takes a while, but you think you are getting a hang of it. It’s unbelievable but half an hour with Aemond has taught you more than those 4 lessons you took.

Soon enough, he is only holding one of your hands, skating by your side.

“I guess I’m a better ice skating teacher than you are a dancing instructor,” Aemond declares pompously.

That has you snorting in an unattractive manner. “So you admit you suck at dancing?”

Aemond huffs out a chuckle, walking right into that one.

The turns are the trickiest parts. And as soon as you saw the edge of the rink coming up, you nervously fuck up your footing. Nothing too bad since the two of you were skating at a rather slow pace, but it did cause Aemond to pick up his speed a little so he can turn for you to crash against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist.

In his warm embrace, you peer up at him under fluttering lashes. Aemond is already looking down at you with a hooded gaze. He has you feeling breathless and flushed.

You have his rapt attention when your pink tongue peeks out to lick your lips in anticipation.

You don’t notice him leaning in though, not when you feel something wet and cold touch your forehead.

Looking up, that’s when you notice it, the fluffy white snowflakes falling from the clear blue sky. It is the first snowfall of the year.

You let out an elated laugh, smiling wide, lifting a hand to catch a snowflake on your fingertips.

Aemond then gently grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing your attention back at him.

You let out a soft, little gasp.

He is staring at you like you are something so precious. There is so much fondness in his violet eye that your heart feels like it's going to burst with happiness.

Then as if in slow motion, you watch as a tiny, pretty snowflake lands on the dip of his lower lip.

You lean up to melt it against yours as well.

With a pleased hum, Aemond’s hold on your waist tightens, while his hand on your chin slides back to cradle your neck, kissing you deeper. He has your mouth parting with a moan, and his tongue slips in easily. He tastes like caramel, espresso, and vanilla; so addicting in a way that you think you can definitely get used to this.

Aemond’s mouth on yours has you lifting up your foot behind you, like you’re a princess in a cheesy romantic comedy. Embarrassingly giddy as if he is the first and only boy you had ever kissed.

And when you feel him smile against your lips, you start wishing that he’ll at least be the last.

a.t. 💗

🎵 to you · mallrat

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #hotd imagine #hotd smut #aemond targaryen #hotd

171 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs