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itaipava · 10 months

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— f1 boys as your boyfriends.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS:

he’s the fun and cheerful kind of boyfriend. the kind that spams you with his silly internet discoveries, like an interesting article or a tiktok video or random vlogs. the kind of boyfriend who calls you ‘beautiful’ all the time, even when you’re not looking or feeling good. the kind of boyfriend who gets over fights easily - the kind of boyfriend who makes it hard to be mad at him because he’s so genuine and generous. the kind of boyfriend who praises you constantly and has a genuine admiration for you. the kind of boyfriend who makes you feel heard and understood. the kind of who suddenly drags you into a store to buy cheap plastic ‘promise rings’ and then asks you as a joke; when the two of you stop having a good laugh, he says with a soft, content smile, “you know... i’m really going to do this one day.”

˒ ⌕ DANIEL RICCIARDO:

is the kind of boyfriend that lifts your mood and makes you feel lighter just being around him. he’s very open with his physical affections and words - probably the one who says ‘i love you’ first and he does it at the most random moment and with the purest beam of light on his face that makes your heart melt. the kind of boyfriend who shows you off to friends; you often hear “daniel don’t shut up about you, please help me” or “he’s so in love with you, it’s disgusting”. the type who calls you out of the blue and drags you off on unplanned dates - he’s sometimes the reason you end up neglecting your work, but he makes it up by helping you get through later.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ:

is the kind of boyfriend who still looks at you with the same passionate gaze, no matter how long you’ve been together. the kind of boyfriend who picks you up wherever you are because he doesn’t want you to be alone, especially late at night. he is more of a listener in the relationship, but he also speaks his mind and values honesty. the kind of boyfriend who suddenly blurts out ‘you’re so beautiful’ while watching you laugh with your friends; even when others stop and turn to him, it doesn’t bother him, because it’s just the truth. the kind of boyfriend who kisses you a lot on the forehead and temple. the type of boyfriend who makes you feel safe, welcomed and protected just by being around him.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC:

he’s the kind of boyfriend who pays attention at you even when you’re not looking at him, and unconsciously knows all the little habits you have. the kind of boyfriend who not only knows your little quirks on the surface but also understands you so deeply that you sometimes think he can read your mind. the kind of boyfriend who likes to sit beside you in silence while you do your own thing. the kind of boyfriend who tells you to go to bed early but also calls you and you end up staying up late because the conversation flows so naturally when you talk to him. the kind of boyfriend who loves watching you sleep while gently stroking your cheek with his thumb; your peaceful and lovely sleeping face makes him feel calm, as if he is right where he should be.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON:

he’s the very cuddly, relaxed and comfortable type of boyfriend to be with. he sends sweet little messages during the day to see how you are doing. he is also very tolerant and open-minded. the type who always seems to know what you’re feeling - he’s good at noticing small changes in your voice, expressions, habits or mannerisms, so “i’m fine” lies don’t really work with him. he’s so affectionate, always making sure you’re healthy and eating well. the kind that thinks a lot about the future together. the kind who marathons your favorite movies with you. the kind that brings you chocolate, snacks you like and other necessities when you have your period - comforts you and makes you smile when you have mood swings. the type of boyfriend who looks at you with so much love and affection that makes your friends fall in love with your relationship. the type of boyfriend who supports you in everything, but also gives you advice and helps you overcome your problems and difficulties. the type of boyfriend who makes his love for you obvious in everything he does for you.

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

the “best friend” type of boyfriend. he can be a little shy and awkward about showing his affection, especially at first, but there’s also this feeling of comfort around him. the kind of boyfriend who treats you like he’s known you forever, but still blushes and gets nervous whenever you praise him or kiss him randomly. more like a listener, but he’s so considerate when he talks; the kind that asks questions you never thought of or that no one asked before. the kind who have a verbal habit of saying “we” instead of “i” because subconsciously include you in most of his future plans - no matter how big or small. the kind that gives you so many kisses on the forehead. and whenever he hugs you, you can feel all his love for you, you can feel at home.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN:

he’s the kind of boyfriend who likes to take you everywhere he goes: his favorite park, favorite restaurant, favorite cafe, favorite record store. the kind that remembers almost everything you like and don’t like, which makes him amazing when it comes to buying gifts, among other things. the kind of boyfriend who remembers your hours or when you’re free and calls you at those times because he wants to hear your voice. if you don’t, he likes to leave voice messages. honestly very sincere. he’s the kind of boyfriend who lets you use him as his personal pillow all the time; no matter where you are, if he sees you dozing, he won’t think twice before letting your head rest on his lap or shoulder. the kind of boyfriend who lovingly calls you an ‘idiot’, but you know, his idiot.

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cybernaght · 1 year

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The fandom echo chamber: fanon, microanalysis and conspiracy brain

As someone who has been in fandom spaces, on and off, for 20 years, I find some fascinating trends popping up in the last decade that I thought to be fandom-specific but clearly aren’t. So, I would like to do a little examination of where those things come from, how they are engaged with, and what it says about the way we consume media. This is a think piece, of sorts, with my brain being the main source. As such, we will spend some time down the memory lane of a fandom-focused millennial.

This is largely brought about by Good Omens. But it’s also not really about Good Omens at all.

Part one. Fanon.

The way we see characters in any story is always skewed by our very selves. This is a neutral statement, and it does not have a value judgement. It’s simply unavoidable. We recognise aspects of them, love aspects of them, and choose aspects of them to highlight based entirely on our own vision of the universe.

Recognition comes into this. There is a reason so many protagonists of romance novels have a “blank slate” problem. Even when they do not, we love characters who are like us or versions of us that we would like to be. And when we say “we”, I also mean, “me”.

(I remember very clearly this realisation hit me after a whole season of Doctor Who with writing which I hated utterly when I questioned why I still clung so incredibly hard to Clara Oswald as my favourite companion. Then I looked at myself in the mirror. Oh. Well. That would do it, wouldn’t it?)

Then, there is projection, and, again, this is a neutral statement. Projection exists, and it is completely normal and, dare I say it, valid way of engaging with — well, anything. Is the character queer? Trans? Neurodivergent? Are they in love? Do they like chocolate? Are they a cat person? Well, yes, if this is what the text says, but if the text does not say anything… You tell me. Please, do tell me. Because, in that moment of projection, they are yours.

And then, there is fandom osmosis, and that is the most fascinating one of them all, the one that is not very easy to note while you are inside the echo chamber. It’s the way we collectively, consciously or not, make decisions on who or what the characters are, what their relationships are, and what happens to them.

(Back when I was writing egregiously long Guardian recaps on this blog I actually asked if Shen Wei’s power being learning actually was stated anywhere in the canon of the show. Because I had no idea. I have read and reread dozen of fanfics where that is the case, and at some point through enough repetition, it became reality.)

We are all kind of making our own reality here, aren’t we?

Back when things were happening in a much less centralised manner - in closed livejournal groups, and forums of all shapes and sizes - I don’t remember there being quite as much universally agreed upon fanon. Frankly, I don’t remember much of universally agreed upon anything. But now, everything is in one place: we have this, and we have AO3, and it’s wonderful, it really is so much easier to navigate, but it’s also one gigantic reality-shifting echo chamber, with blogs, reblogs, trends, and rituals.

Accessibility plays its part, too. If you were, say, in Life on Mars (UK) fandom between seasons, and you wanted to post your speculation fic, you had to have had an account, and then find and gain access to one of the bigger groups (lifein1973 was my poison, but ymmv), and then, if you feel brave you may post it, but also, you may want to do so from your alt account if you wanted to keep yours separate, and then you would have to go through the whole process again. And I’m not saying that fan creations then were somehow inherently better for it than fan creations now (although Life on Mars Hiatus Era is perhaps a bad example - because some of the Speculation Fic there was breathtaking), but there is something to say about the ease of access that made the fandoms go through a big bang of sorts.

(I mean, come on, I can just come here and post this - and I am certain people will read it, and this blog is a pandemic cope baby about Chinese television for goodness sake.)

The canon transformations that happen in the fandom echo chamber truly are fascinating to witness as someone who is more or less a fandom butterfly. I get into something, float around for a bit, then get into something else and move on. I might come back eventually when the need arises, but I don’t sustain a hiatus mind-state. This means that when I float away and return, I find some very intriguing stuff.

Let’s actually look at Good Omens here. Season two aired, and I found it spectacular in its cosy and anguished way; deliberately and intelligently fanfic-y in its plot building; simple but subversive, and so very tender. (I will have to circle back to this eventually, because, truly, I love how deliberately it takes the tropes and shatters them - it’s glorious). And, to me - a person who read the book, watched the first season, hung around AO3 for a few weeks and moved on - absolutely on-point in terms of characterisation.

So imagine my surprise when the fandom disagreed so vehemently that there are actual multi-tiered theories on how characters were not in possession of their senses. Nothing there, in my mind, ever contradicted any of the stated text, as it stood. This remained a strange little mystery until I did what I always do when I flutter close to an ongoing fandom.

I loaded AO3 and sorted the existing fic by popularity. And there it was, all there: the actual earth-shattering mutual devotion of the angel and the demon; willingness to Fall; openness and long heart-aching confession speeches. There was all of the fanon surrounding Aziraphale and Crowley, which, to me, read as out of character, and to one for whom they became the reality over the last four years, read as truth.

Again, only neutral statements here. This is not a bad thing, and neither this is a good thing, this is just something that happens, after a while, especially when there are years for the fandom-born ideas to bounce around and stew. I can’t help but think that so much of what we see as real in spaces such as this one is a chimaera of the actual source and all the collective fan additions which had time and space to grow, change, develop, and inspire, reverberating over and over again, until the echoes fill the entirety of the space.

Eventually, this chimaera becomes a reality.

Part two. Microanalysis

Here are my two suppositions on the matter:

1. Some writers really love breadcrumb storytelling.

Russel T Davies, for instance, on his run of Doctor Who (and, if you are reading it much later - I do mean the original one), loved that technique for his seasonal arcs. What is a Bad Wolf? Who is Harold Saxon? Well, you can watch very very carefully, make a theory, and see it proven right or wrong by the end of the season.

Naturally, mystery box writers are all about breadcrumb storytelling: your Losts and your Westworlds are all about giving you snippets to get your brain firing, almost challenging you to figure things out just ahead of the reveal.

2. We, as humans, love breadcrumbs.

And why wouldn’t we? Breadcrumbs are delicious. They are, however, a seasoning, or a coating. They are not the meal.

Too much metaphor?

Let’s unpack it and start from the beginning.

Pattern recognition colours every aspect of our lives, and it colours the way we view art to a great extent. I think we truly underestimate how much it’s influenced by our lived experiences.

If you are, broadly speaking, living somewhere in Western/North-Western Europe in the 14th century, and you see a painting in which there is a very very large figure surrounded by some smaller figures and holding really tiny figures, you may know absolutely nothing about who those figures are, but you know that the big figure is the Important One, and the small ones are Less Important Ones, and the tiny ones are In Their Care. You know where your reverence would lie, looking at this picture. And, I imagine, as someone living in the 14th century, you may be inspired to a sense of awe looking at this composition, because in the world you live in, this is how art works.

If you, on the other hand, watch a piece of recorded media and see the eyes of two characters meet as the violins swell, you know what you are being told at that moment. You don’t have to have a film degree to feel a sort of way when you see a green-tinged pallet used, when cross-cuts use juxtaposing images, or notice where your focus is pulled in any given shot. This stuff - this recognition of patterns - has been trained into us by the simple fact that we live in this time, on this planet, and we have been doing so long enough to have engaged recorded media for a period of time.

As humans, we notice things. Our brains flare up when they see something they recognise, and then we seek to find other similar details and form a bigger picture. This often happens unconsciously, but sometimes it does not. Sometimes we do it on purpose: finding breadcrumbs in stories is a little bit like solving a mystery. It allows us to stretch that brain muscle that puts two and two together. It makes us feel clever.

So yes, we love breadcrumbs, and, frankly, quite a lot of storytelling takes advantage of this. It’s very useful for foreshadowing, creating thematic coherence, or introducing narrative parallels and complexity. It’s useful for nudging the viewer into one or the other emotional direction, or to cue them into what will happen in the next moment, or what exactly is the one important detail they should pay attention to.

Because this is something media does intentionally, and something we pick up both consciously and not, it is very hard to know when to stop. We don't really ever know when all of the breadcrumbs have been collected. It becomes very easy to get carried away. There is a very specific kind of pleasure in digging into content frame by frame, soundbite by soundbite, chasing that pleasure of finding.

But it is almost never breadcrumbs all the way down. They are techniques to help us focus on the main event: the story. I truly believe those who make media want it to reach the widest possible audience, and that includes all of us who like to watch every single thing ever created with our Media Analysis Goggles on and those who are just here to enjoy the twists and turns of the story at the pace offered to them. And I think, sometimes in our chase to collect and understand every little clue we forget that media is not made to just cater for us.

One can call it missing a forest for the trees. But I would hate to mix my metaphors, so let’s call it missing a schnitzel for the breadcrumbs.

Part three. The Conspiracy Brain.

If you are there with me, in the midst of the excited frenzy, chasing after all those delicious breadcrumbs, then patterns can grow, merge together, and become all-encompassing theories. Let’s call them conspiracy theories, even though this is not what they truly are.

So, why do we believe in conspiracy theories?

One, Because We Have Been Lied To.

All conspiracies start with distrust.

If you are in fandom spaces - especially if you are in fandom spaces which revolve around a queer fictional couple - especially-especially if you have been in such spaces for a period of time, you have most certainly been lied to at one point or another.

We don’t even have to talk about Sherlock - and let’s not do that - but do you remember Merlin? Because I remember Merlin. Specifically, I remember the publicity surrounding the first season, with its weaponised usage of “bromance” and assertions that this whole thing is a love story of sorts, and then the daunting realisation that this was all a stunt, deliberately orchestrated to gather viewership.

And, because we were lied to in such a deliberate manner for such an extensive period of time, I genuinely believe that it forever altered our pattern recognition habits, because what was this if not encouragement to read into things? Now we are trained to read between the lines or see little cries for help where they might not be. Because we were told, over and over again, that we should.

(Yes, I think we are all existing in these spaces coloured by the trauma of queer-bating. I am, however, looking forward to a world where I can unlearn all of that.)

Two, Cognitive Dissonance.

The chain reaction works a bit like this: the world is wrong - it can’t possibly be wrong by coincidence - this must be on purpose - someone is responsible for it.

Being Lied To is a preamble, but cognitive dissonance is where it all originates. In so many cross-fandom theories I have noticed a four-step process:

A) this is not good

B) this author could not have made a mistake

C) this must be done on purpose

D) here is why

(Funny thing is, I have been on the receiving end of the small conspiracy spiral, and it is a very interesting experience. Not relevant to this conversation is the fact that a lot of my job revolves around storytelling. What is relevant is that my hobbies also revolve around storytelling. And one of them is DnD. Now, imagine my genuine shock when one of the players I am currently writing a campaign for noticed a small detail that did not make a logical sense within the complexity of the world, and latched on to it as something clearly indicating some kind of a secret subplot. Their thinking process also went a bit like this: this detail is not a good piece of writing — this DM knows how to tell stories well — this is obviously there on purpose. It was not there on purpose. I created a clumsy shorthand. I erred, in that pesky manner humans tend to. And, seeing this entire thought process recited to me directly in the moment, I felt somewhere between flattered and mortified.)

This whole line of thinking, I think, exists on a knife’s edge between veneration and brutal criticism, relentlessly dissecting everything “wrong”, with a reverent “but this is deliberate” attached to it like a vice, because it is preferable to a simple conclusion that the author let you down, in one way or another.

Three, Intentionality

I believe that there is no right or wrong way of engaging with stories, regardless of their medium, and assuming no one gets hurt in the process. While in a strictly academic way, there is a “correct” way of reading (and reading into) media, we here are largely not academics but consumers; consumption is subjective.

However, this all changes when intentionality is ascribed.

The one I find particularly fascinating is the intentionality of “making it bad on purpose” because, as open-minded as I intend to always be, this just does not happen.

It certainly does not happen in long-form media. Even in the bread-crumb mystery box-type long-form media.

When television programs underdeliver, they also underperform, and then they get cancelled.

If all the elements of Westworld Season 4 that did not sit together in a completely satisfactory way were written deliberately as some sort of deconstruction for the final season to explore, then it failed because that final season will now never come.

(There will likely never be a Secret Fourth Episode.)

And look, I am not here to refute your theories. Creativity is fun, and theorising is fantastic.

But, perhaps, when the line of thought ventures into the “bad on purpose” territory, it could be recognised for what it is: disappointment and optimism, attempting to coexist in a single space. And I relate to that, I do, and I am sorry that there is even a need for this line of thinking. It’s always so incredibly disappointing that a creator you believed to be devoid of flaws makes something that does not hit in the way you hoped it would. It’s pretty heartbreaking.

Unfortunately, people make mistakes. We are all fallible that way.

Four, Wildfire.

Then, when the crumbs are found, a theory is crafted, and intentionality is ascribed, all that needs to happen is for it to catch on. And hey, what better place for it than this massive hollow funnel that we exist in, where thoughts, ideas and interpretations reverberate so much they become inextricable from the source material in collective consciousness.

Conspiracy theories create alternate realities, very much like we all do here.

So where are we now?

I am not here to tell you what is right and what is wrong; what is true, and what is not. We are all entitled to engage with anything we wish, in whichever way we wish to do it. This is not it, at all.

All I am saying is… listen.

Do you hear that echo?

I do.

#fandom thoughts #fanon #good omens #good omens 2 #bbc sherlock #merlin bbc #think piece #it's been years and I still have no idea how to tag #conspiracy theories #fandom content #all fandoms

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lenaellsi · 6 months

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if you take "I can make a difference" at face value you simply must also consider "you're the bad guys.” like they are both vital aspects of aziraphale's decision. the problem is not just aziraphale's attempt to lead a corrupt system, it is also his continued belief in the superiority of heaven and angels over hell and demons. that's why crowley was so hurt. it's not just a miscommunication, or a disagreement on the practicalities of changing hearts and minds in heaven--it is a fundamental misunderstanding of morality and of crowley as a person. if crowley had asked aziraphale to come to hell to help fix it and protect the earth, he would not have gone. he says so. it’s not just about safety, or reform. it is about being Good.

and all of this happens because aziraphale is not just motivated by fear and love: he is also motivated by shame. he is insecure in his identity as an angel and a Good Guy, and both his alienation from heaven and his relationship with crowley have always aggravated this insecurity. it’s why shax’s mockery hit him so hard, and why he’s so susceptible to manipulation from the metatron. he desperately wants to be taken seriously and treated with respect and to have power and be an uncomplicated Good Guy, and that is just as much of a motivating factor in his decision as his desire to protect humanity and crowley.

and re: “appoint you to be an angel”: I know people want to insist that aziraphale has never wanted to change anything about crowley, but I’m sorry, I just don’t think that’s true. over and over in season 2 aziraphale demonstrates a desire to sand the rough edges off people and things for the sake of the Greater Good, without consideration for the free will or complex emotions of others. obviously this tendency culminates in the ball, where he exerts control over all of the humans to make everything perfect for maggie and nina, and in doing so, infringes on their autonomy and nina’s (crowley’s narrative mirror!) capacity to feel her own anger and sadness. and he has never liked that crowley is a demon. in his mind, the problem has always been that crowley was put in the wrong category, not that the entire system of dividing people and angels into Good and Bad is ridiculous. that’s the exact lesson he needs to learn.

and yes, his intentions are good, absolutely. I don’t think aziraphale ever acts out of malice, and I do think he genuinely wants the best for the people around him, particularly crowley. after all, if crowley is accepted as an angel again, as aziraphale has always secretly considered him to be, their relationship can (in his mind) finally stop being so fraught with danger and conflict. (the other side of that, of course, is that aziraphale can also stop being so ashamed for loving someone who is supposed to be Bad, and everything in his life will make sense again, the way it hasn’t since he met that star maker who got so upset about god’s plan.)

but that’s not who crowley is, and it never has been. even before he fell, crowley’s recklessness and relentless questions made aziraphale uncomfortable. their relationship has never been safe or easy, and in wanting to make it so, aziraphale is demonstrating a desire to change the parts of crowley that led to his fall, whether he intends to or not.

I’m rambling, but the point is: the insistence on reframing this moment as a purely selfless, calculated, self-sacrificing decision by aziraphale to protect crowley and the world ignores the uglier parts of the things he said in order to make their eventual reconciliation less complicated, and it’s really frustrating to me. crowley is in fact right to be upset by what he said, and it’s not just a misunderstanding that can be fixed with aziraphale saying “I was only trying to protect you!” and another kiss. it’s a culmination of all of the double think aziraphale has been doing in order to preserve his vision of heaven as The Source Of Truth And Light And Good since before the beginning of time, and it’s time for him to finally unpack it.

(and because every post on the final fifteen needs a disclaimer: aziraphale is trying his best and has an incredible amount of love in his heart and wants so badly to do good and ALSO the things he says, does, and believes can be incredibly hurtful and destructive. all of these things can be true.)

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #final fifteen #good omens meta #good omens 2 #long post

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serosluv2 · 9 months

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obsessed bf x pretty gf trope hcs w sero & shoto pls & ty 😁😁 (seperately pls)

It’s only 7 months late but here u go anon 😘

a/n: I wrote this in an hour in the bathtub so if it is shit- don’t tell me bc I’m just getting back into writing 😭😭

Shoto Todoroki

He fits this trope so well.

He is THEE resident pretty boy of UA so it makes perfect sense that he has the prettiest girl in all of Japan. (The world)

He is the teeny weeny ist bit dense on like how to take proper photos of you for the ‘gram but trust that he WILL be searching up everything about lighting and angles and exposure and zoom- all that nonsense.

If you’re a social media girly he may leave like one or two comments. He isn’t the best about being outwardly obsessed with you, he is all about those private small moments. Not being able to take his eyes off you anywhere. Always needing to be beside you. If he can’t be with you then trust he is texting you at every free moment and expects a response within 5 minutes.

He loves shopping with you and helping you pick out outfits or jewelry or how to style your makeup that day. He has no real opinion on what looks better tho he just loves seeing you get all prettied up. (Yk that tiktok where the girl is trying to decide on a dress color and her bf is just like “wtv u want mama u look breathtaking in both” ?That’s him.)

I feel like he doesn’t really buy you anything in the beginning of your relationship bc he doesn’t really see the point/value or something in that BUT all it takes is for kaminari to get you some product you’ve been wanting for a while for secret santa and seeing how touched you were by the gesture sends him into over drive:

“OH MY GOD! KAMI!!” You exclaim- wrapping your arms around him. “How did you know? I’ve been looking for this everywhere!” Shoto notices how big your eyes got and the slight blush on your cheeks from excitement and he feels, something unpleasant. Jealousy? Envy? Possessiveness? Whatever it is he doesn’t like how grateful you’re acting toward the blonde. I mean sure, he got you something nice you’ve wanted but that’s not his job (he just so happened to get you for secret santa so he kind of had to get you something) he’s not your boyfriend only your boyfriend- HIM- should be gifting you stuff. Then he kinda has a “ohh.” Moment and realizes he has never really gotten you anything just because.

Anyways after that whole interaction he is getting you anything and everything you look at for more than a second. You keep looking at some necklace at the store? Bought. He sees you liking tiktoks about girls getting flowers? Now you’re getting a bouquet every date night. Does he himself have money? No, but that No.1 hero daddy sure does. And let’s be honest he kind of owes shoto for making his childhood - for lack of a better word- awful.

In conclusion, Shoto loves his pretty girl and will do anything she asks of him without question.

Hanta Sero

Clawing at my cage for this man.

Now sero has been… infatuated with you since he first laid eyes on you one faithful morning. You were ordering at some coffee shop he passes by on his way to school and just one glance had him stopped dead in his tracks. The way your hair framed your face perfectly, your face in general because holy shit- you were gorgeous. Straight out of a magazine. He quickly took notice of the little embellishments you made to your uniform.. uniform? The same one Mina has. OH MY GOD YOU GO TO UA AND HE HAS NEVER SEEN YOU BEFORE?

He literally cannot stop thinking about you and boom you appear again in the halls. Your going the opposite direction has him with your friends and he sees you all have a little cafe cup. Did you buy them all a drink before class? So you’re stupidly gorgeous and nice. Great, he, for sure, has no chance with you now.

But oh that’s where he is wrong.

When you guys start dating he actually cannot believe it. He is very guarded at first because- now it’s my personal hc that sero is a bit insecure- he can’t fathom how you, YOU, would actually want to date someone like…him.

But once those walls come down he doesn’t shut up about you. Seriously all his friends are so annoyed:

“Good god soy sauce if you mention your little girly friend again I’m hurling you across the city.”

“You’re just mad you don’t have a girl as pretty as mine- don’t worry baku-man, I’m sure one day some poor person will take pity on your soul.”

Sero did in fact get hurled across the city that day.

Now where he differs from Shoto is that this man is a GOD with a camera. He has that artistic eye and is able to capture you being your baddest/cutest/authentic self.

Literally ya’ll

He also has a good sense of style. He never thinks you look bad in one thing versus another but he will take into account the vibe of where you’re going and what’s you’ll be doing and give his opinion based on that. Because he grew up with sister and knows how to get around the “which one looks better?” Type question without hurting you.

Now sero doesn’t have money to spoil you senseless but what he does have is the forever lasting instinct to put your comfort above his own. It’s freezing and you didn’t wear a jacket because “a hoe ever gets cold”? Don’t worry sero will give you his and be visibly growing icicles on his body to keep you warm. Feet hurt from those impractical shoes? He’s caring you all the way home even if he is still terribly sore from a killer arm workout the day before with kirishima. A no a mudy puddle and you’re wearing your new white shoes :(! Well sero is laying his jacket down over it or simply caring you over the puddle. He isn’t the type to roll his eyes at how “ridiculous” or “spoiled” you’re being. You are y/n freaking l/n. He’ll do whatever you need to make sure nothing in your life goes wrong.

He also is the type to spam comments in your TikTok or Insta post and makes all his friends do the same. Not that you need it- he just loves fueling your ego.

#woohoo first day back after my 6 month leave #not that any of yall care #also I started watching jjk (yeah in late I know)#sero x reader #sero hanta #mha headcanons #hanta sero #hanta sero x reader #shoto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto torodoki

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victoria-grimesss · 1 year

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locked on target

masterlist

->Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Reader

->Words: 4.7k

->Warning: MDNI! unprotected sex, rough sex, fingering, mask stays partially on, dirty talk.

->Summary: Working alongside the 141 for a year now, you’ve grown closer to the infamous ghost. Confiding in Soap about your crush, confession is the only way to rid yourself of the gnawing infatuation.

->A/N: Despite all my writing being about König, ghost is my all time favorite baby girl, writing for him always intimidated me but I’ll give it my best shot, hope he’s not too OOC.

It’s been a full year on the 141 and you couldn't be happier, well not happy at the moment since you’re ankle deep in sludge. This mission is going as well as any other despite the evac being miles away through humid weather and wet ground.

“Good thing I packed extra socks.” You muttered, readjusting your gun and pack and unsticking your boot from a deep pocket of mud.

“Oh come on lass it could be worse right? We could be treading through anaconda infested waters huh? Lighten up.” Soap is next to you. He's having an easier time removing his boots from the muck.

Price is in the front with Gaz next to him talking about the evac and rations, you admire their relationship. Price has slowly morphed into some kind of a father figure to you as you assume he did for Gaz too or at least a mentor. Gaz and Soap are like brothers to you, you bicker like such. You pick on Soap when he gets too drunk to form correct sentences and starts singing songs from his childhood, and you get Gaz too when he laughs so hard you have to remind him to breathe. Like a dynamic triangle the three of you.

Then there’s Ghost.

He stands at the back of the group behind you and Soap, no evident trouble for him when it comes to the mud. He’s sturdy and observant, keeping a close eye on the treeline and behind the group. He's a great soldier and you admire his skills… and him. Ever since you met him you’ve had your eyes trained.

I mean who wouldn’t.

From his expressive eyes which sometimes you feel look through you, to his broad shoulders where he holds the world on top of them, his strong arms that deal with enemies swifty, to…his… lower extremities that you certainly have only thought of once or twice. Maybe more.

You should be ashamed of your feelings, and you lock them down deep the only time they have slipped past your lips is when too much alcohol loosens them.

—

You confessed one night to soap, the rest were asleep and your insomnia was kicking your ass so you went to the parking lot where soap was nursing a bottle on the hood of his car, and you sat down and shared it.

“Something on your mind bonnie?” He hands the bottle to you, concern brewing in him.

“I don’t know, it’s just, Ghost.”

He laughs.

“Yea, I know about him, but what about him?”

You take a couple large gulps of the amber liquid, it burns its way down and soothes your aching wanting heart, burying the hopeless romantic in you. Tears brew in your eyes and you always forget you either become a laughing drunk or a sappy drunk, seems the latter had won tonight.

“Aye- lass, what's wrong.” His hand is placed on your shoulder offering a comforting touch.

You sob and laugh at the same time, looking up at Soap.

“I think I’m in love with him.” You say quietly through a stream of tears that make their way into your mouth, making a weird cocktail of salty liquor.

“Oh bonnie…” Soap rubs your back, his voice is soft.

“I just, everything about him Johnny! I can’t get him out of my head, and he probably doesn't even look at me that way, he could get any girl he wanted!” You sob.

“Woah there calm down, gonna throw yourself into a spell talking like this. Look. LT cares about ya, truly. He thinks you’re a valued member of the team and I’ve caught him starin’ a few times so don’t be daft now ya hear. You’re a pretty girl and LT would be lucky to have ya.”

You sniff, wiping the tears and snot with a sleeve.

“Really? You think so?”

“Cross my heart and hope ta die. You’ll be alright.”

—

“It’s in my shoes.” You deadpan.

You hear Gaz laugh and Price looks back, checking on the team.

“Don’t worry Y/N, just imagine it’s a mud bath! Your skin will be smooth and shiny before you know it!” Soap laughs at Gaz’s antics, it’s nice when you can all joke around and relax. The hard part is over and now it’s simple evac.

“Right… how soothing.” Your eyes roll and you look back to check on Ghost, your eyes meet and a flash of electric lightning shoots to your heart, it feels good.

He gives a quick nod and you return to your trudging. You wait till after the mission to pass any other signals, he’s too focused to register any flirting right now. Or that's the advice Soap gave you after that night.

“Right. Keep close by, chopper is land down in 5, need to evac quickly to avoid any unwanted looks.” Price alerts to the rest of the team once you’ve covered ground and are nearing sweet release. Your back and knees ache just at the thought of sitting. You nurse the last of your water and keep walking, you tip your bottle back along with your head to get the remaining drops and you trip over a protruding root.

Other foot trying to catch yourself a hand catches on your upper arm, righting you up.

“Alright there?” Ghost’s dark eyes are steady on you, maybe a bit amused, or maybe his eye paint is creasing.

“Yea, sorry just tryna finish off the bottle, didn't see that there.”

“Careful next time yea?” He releases your arm and waits for you to start walking again to pick up behind you.

“Yea, for sure LT.”

You feel his hand on your arm even after he released you and you want to untie the knot that Ghost has tied there and you know you’re royally fucked.

You’re all on the chopper and your legs just about give out, you always love the euphoric feeling of sitting down after a mission like this, the lactic acid in your muscles making them burn like no other. You sit across from Ghost and he visibly relaxes once the chopped takes off, the breeze from the open doors cooling everyone immensely.

“Good work everyone, I know evac was shit but you all hustled and we got the intel we needed. I think we all deserve a good ol drink when we get back right?”

Price brings a smile to everyone's face, as tired as the lot of us are. You glance over at Ghost and his eyes look away from you, looking over his gear.

Your heart pains for some kind of acknowledgment that he feels the same, it’s like trying to hold the same fistful of sand no matter how hard you try it seeps through your fingers, you want him so badly you’d tape your fist shut if that meant keeping the sand in.

—

Back to base, ‘same day different shit’ you heard Ghost say one time. You often hold on to everything he says, hoarding each little piece he feeds you and storing it away somewhere special. Like you’re hoarding food for the winter, as if the winter is him falling in love with a woman that isn't you, when that happens you’ll open your little box of his sayings and advice and eat them slowly, savor them until all that’s left to drink is the tears you drown yourself in as consolation.

A pity party is what you throw yourself that night, showering and getting a once over by the medic then making your way back to your room, Price wants to get everyone together tomorrow night for a drink, wouldn't hurt you think. You sit on the edge of your bed, the silence is deafening after a mission, tinnitus ringing your ears. The bed is cold, you want someone to warm it, you want Ghost to warm it.

The nightmares come to you quickly that night, visions of your team, your friends being ripped apart by bullets as you try to fire back into mist. You hold Ghost’s hand as he fades and you wake up coated in cold sweat and adrenaline.

3:18 a.m.

You toss and turn for a minute before huffing and leaving the bed, you need air. Adorned in sweatpants and a shirt you got on recruitment day you leave your room the sound of your door is loud and you wince as it closes. You go to the parking lot once more, maybe there will be more stars out tonight.

The air is crisp and cool, you round the corner of the building where a bench sits, a lone figure is sitting and smoking there, you can tell it’s him by his silhouette. He’s broad and his legs spread wide as he sits alone.

“This seat taken?” You ask, scared if you talk too loud he’ll leave.

“All yours” No inflection is evident in his tone.

Silence sits between you two and you take a harsh breath to break it. It makes you uncomfortable.

“Trouble sleeping?” His voice is deep and low.

“The usual, nightmares again. You?”

“Not tired, too soon after the mission to sleep.”

“I understand.”

You watch him carefully as he brings the cigarette to his lips and inhales, you inhale with him. You imagine him inhaling your perfume as his lips touch your neck. You stare, unabashedly, like you’re not scared if he catches you.

He adjusts where he sits, hips rolling to get more comfortable.

“Bloody bench feels like it’s made of spikes.” He mutters, quietly.

You breathe out a laugh as he exhales the smoke.

His eyes look to the side at you and then forward again.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want something from me.”

“What if I do?”

Your heart is racing now, faster than it had on any given mission.

He stands, throwing the cigarette to the ground and crushing it with his boot, he slips his mask down again and his eyes are locked on you.

“I’d say you’d better fuckin’ find it elsewhere, we both know I can’t give you what you want.”

“What do I want Simon?”

His lips grow sealed when you say his name.

“Things I’m incapable of providing, best leave it at that. Night sergeant.”

His tone meant business, you know better than to chase after him. You sit on the bench, staring at the cigarette on the ground. It’s beaten and crushed like you feel right now.

You wonder if you can still taste his lips on it.

The walk of shame back to your room is humiliating, you pass some others that can’t sleep, nightmares aren't anything special around here and you wish you could pluck the worries from their heads.

Sleep is easy after that, maybe your body wants to make you forget the encounter with him but even so you dream of him. He’s an inescapable phantom.

—

“Aye there she is!!” Soap hollers from across the pub, it’s a quaint place, quiet enough to not be annoying but lively enough to not feel desolate.

A large corner booth is what they occupy and you wave as you make your way over, A few empty glasses scatter the table already you arrived ‘fashionably late’.

“Hey bonnie I gotta take a leak you can have my seat yea?” He nudges Ghost so he can be let out of the booth, Ghost stands towering over you. Soap shuffles over to the bathroom and Ghost lets you slide into the booth before he follows, trapped between the wall and him. You’d rather be under him…

You greet them all and Gaz slides you a tall glass of something mind numbing, Ghost has his mask down but he’s nearly finished with his glass same with the rest of them.

“You got some catching up to do, miss fashionably late.” Gaz shoots a smile and you clink your glasses together.

Soap meanders back and pulls a chair to sit at the end of the table, you all squabble over what a better drink is and down rounds after rounds. The conversation somehow gravitates to relationships at some point and Soap is going on and on about this woman he met at the pub down the street.

“Oh she’s a real sweetheart, thinking about asking her out later this week when I get the balls to do it.”

You smile at the way Soap talks about her, you’d love to be admired like that, treasured.

“I think you should go for it Johnny! You're a nice guy, I can go in there and talk you up if you want, say you fought off ten men to save my life.”

He laughs, nearly tipping off his chair,

“You’re a real wingman Y/N, if you can secure a date by all means.”

You smile and the air is joyous, little is heard from Ghost but you know he likes seeing the team happy, he sips his drink and observes, smiles hidden by his mask.

“Have you had any luck on the dating scene Y/N?”

Gaz questions, eyebrows rising.

“Yea bonnie, never hear a peep out of you when we talk about lovey dovey shit.”

You shrug, taking strong sips of your drink.

“I went on a date a while back, he got me flowers, a real nice guy. Found out he was sleeping with my friend behind my back around the fourth date. Don’t really want to try anymore, end of story.”

You can feel Ghost’s eyes burning into you as you finish the sentence. His gaze is addicting and you feel sweaty locked in his stare.

“Well he’s a proper twat for messing it up with you then yea?”

Price offers a tip of his head, sympathy in his eyes.

“Ah it’s alright, I’ll just wait for my prince charming to come sweep me off my feet.” You bat your lashes dramatically and fake a swoon, soothing the old memory with jokes. It turns the tide of the table ambiance to a lighter one.

“I need to piss.�� Ghost says quickly, you scoot out of the seat and Ghost hurries off to where Johnny has gone to earlier.

“What’s up his arse?” Gaz says confused.

Price downs the last of his drink and slams it back onto the table.

“What do you all say to a game of pool?”

“I’ll watch, cheer ya’ll on.” You still nurse your drink and you start to buzz, worries slipping away like papers, but one it left, weighted down with a large paperweight.

“I’ll be right there, gonna finish this drink off.” Soap says, sloshing the leftover liquid that's in his glass.

“Very well, see you momentarily.”

Soap watched the two walk off, leaving the two of you left alone.

He turns back quickly, you get secondhand whiplash.

“Ghost has had his eyes on you the whole night please tell me you told him and he confesses his secret love for you!” Soaps eyes are huge and he’s pleading for the right answer.

“Not exactly.” He delfates.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘not exactly’?”

“I told him that I kinda wanted him and he said he wouldn't be able to give me what I want.”

“That's bollocks and you know it! He’s always watching you, never seen him doing that for any other lass. Now is the time, he’s all alone. Go on and chat him up, I’ll tell the boys you’ve gone home sick alright.”

Soap winks and leaves before you can utter another word. You even your breathing and gulp down the rest of the liquid courage before strolling over to the bathroom hallway. It does not take guys that long to pee weird he's not around.

You walk outside, feeling deja vu from last night the breeze hits the same way.

“You should go inside, it’s cold out.” Ghost is standing leaned up against the brick wall next to the door.

“I was looking for you actually.”

He stands up straighter, shoulders held further.

“Lads looking? Not really in the mood to lose another game. Last time was enough.”

You laugh, the alcohol making it easier to relax around him. You're tipsy enough to have fake confidence for the time being but sober enough to make deductions wisely.

“No Simon, I’m looking. For you.”

“And I told you to stop, you don’t know what you’re thinking. You’re a nice girl yea? Find a nice young guy that can take you on dates and buy you flowers-

“I don’t want anyone else Simon. I want you because I’m in love with you!”

It seems like the whole world went silent after you said that. You’re steaming and don’t move your eyes away from him.

“Y/N.”

“I’m tired of pretending. I just had to tell you I couldn't hold it in any longer it was making me sick. I don’t care about fancy stuff, you should know that by now. I just want to be next to you.”

He approaches you, your neck craning to maintain contact.

“Y/N, I’m proper fucked up you know that? You’re too kind, too perfect to be ruined by a man like me.”

You sniff, the cold getting to you.

“I think you’re wonderful Simon really. You look out for everyone and make sure everyone is alright before looking after yourself. Let me please show you you’re worth loving in return.”

Your heart spills to him, spewing it’s contents violently.

“I’m not joking, I'm not ‘prince charming’ like you referenced earlier.”

“Even better.” You smile.

“Fuck it.”

Before you know it, he lifted the small portion of his mask to kiss you and you erupt, wrapping your arms securely around his neck as though you’ll fall if you don’t. His hands hover over your waist and you grab them and push them down onto your body and he pulls you close. He kisses you like it’s the last time, he makes up for all the times he should have, all the time he desperately wanted to.

He’s watched from afar for so long, your laugh creates sparks in his heart, seeing you make it back from another mission safely spurs him on. He would lay down his life for you and you don’t even know it.

He pulled back, mouth in the crook of your neck.

“Your place is nearby right?” You ask, rubbing his neck and down his back.

“Yea, yea it is.”

He leads you back, back to his den where he’ll draw you in with those eyes and that voice, calloused hands exposed from his gloves that will trace over your skin. The walk is in silence but you both are buzzing, the team won’t miss you, probably happy this chasing game is over with so peace can be established once more. He takes your hand as he leads you up the steps to his apartment, you grope his arm and he shoots you a sultry side-eye.

“Have I ever told you I love your arms?”

“You did just now love.”

Love, love, love. You want him to keep saying it.

He leads you in you’re caged in by his arms on the inside of the door. He looks you over head to toe.

“You look fuckin lovely tonight you know that? All I’ve been thinking about is tearing this top off of you and stripping you down.”

You shiver and bring your hands to run carefully from his abdomen up to his chest.

“You think of ripping my clothes off frequently?”

“Very.”

Stunned by his words and your head swimming he places his hands on your waist and lowers his head to your ear.

“Now if you’d allow me, I’d like to fuck you now.”

Hypnotized you speak.

“Yes please.”

His home is lowly lit and sparsely decorated, you assume he’s not here often or for long.

The bedroom is simple, a bed, two side tables, two lamps, and a dresser. An adjacent bathroom you can’t see.

“You have a nice place.”

“Well now I know you’re lying.”

You stand at the edge of the bed and he stands before you and his hands are on you again pushing you onto the bed you are surrounded by the smell of him, the deep umber and woodsy scent.

“You know how many times I’ve pictured you in my bed?”

He’s inching your pants down your hips agonizingly slow as he speaks.

“How many times I fucked myself picturing you instead?”

“Ghost.”

“Nah none of that here, you’re gonna say my real name from now on and you’re gonna scream it alright?”

“Fuck Simon.”

“Yea. Just. Like. That.” Your pants are off and his hands move from your ankles up to your knees and caress to your inner thighs. His fingers skate your pantyline and your eyes are locked on his hand and he doesn't stop. His hands move over your hips and grip your waist before moving right below your breasts, he checks you with his eyes and you plead silently.

He cups you fully with both hands and you roll your head savoring his feelings.

“So fucking good love fuck.”

He strips you of your shirt and bra and you’re left exposed on his bed. He stands back to stare down upon you and you feel like a spread of food sitting on a stark white table ready to be consumed and ogled. He strips himself of his leather jacket leaving his quite form fitting black tee on.

You adjust under his gaze, his mask hides any expression but his eyes say so much. Raking over your body heavily and his chest rising and falling fast as though he had run a marathon.

“Simon.”

“Yea?”

“Do something.”

“Like what?” His voice is lighter now.

“Anything Simon!”

He laughs and places a knee in between your legs, spreading them wide to accommodate his other leg and hips.

“There we go, fuck all spread out underneath me.”

His hand is placed on your breast and rolls your nipples in his fingers, it moves down never leaving your skin until he reaches your core it’s hot and wet and he collects it on his fingers and when he finally touches you it’s like you’ve reached Valhalla.

He slips a finger inside and it faces no resistance, you form around him and he slips in another starting a smooth rhythm.

“So tight, you think you’ll be able to take me huh love?”

He’s pumping in you and you can hear how wet he’s made you, his eyes darting from his fingers to your face, thrown into pleasure.

He brings you to your peak so quickly you’re stunned and you grip his arm as you clench around him, his name being pulled from you like a mantra.

You regain your mind and look at him as he slips from you and his fingers make their way under his mask, his eyes on your as he licks them clean tasting you on him.

“Sweetest fucking thing I ever tasted.”

He’s unbuckling his belt next, unzips his pants and pulls himself free. He's thick as all hell and a thick vein runs down the underside. It looks heavy and you pocket an idea for next time.

You're staring for a long time and his two fingers that just did unspeakable things to you tip your chin to look at him.

“Think you can handle it?”

“I can take it, just hurry up.”

“You’re always so impatient you know that.”

He places the tip at your entrance collecting your wetness to help with the initial push.

The stretch is delicious and you grip his arm and shoulder gasping at the feeling of being full of him.

“Fuck. Fuck you’re so fucking tight, squeezing me so fucking good.”

His one arm is braced at the side of your head, forearm spattered with tattoos burning your peripheral vision. The other holds himself, leading himself into you.

He’s seated fully inside and you feel split down the middle in the best way. Burning fire deep within you and you moan for him to move, creating the friction you need.

He starts moving and you both moan, he tips his head forward to watch where he enters you repeatedly.

“So good, fuck so big Simon.”

“You take it so well, love.”

His hand that once gripped himself holds your hip and moves himself like the ocean, fluid and rhythmic.

“Always dreamt about fucking you, you spread out of my bed while I fuck my cock deep into you.”

You throw your head back and he leans back, the warm air that was between you two leaving for the cold air of the room bringing your nipples to hard peaks which his eyes gravitate to.

“Alright c’mon love.”

He takes your ankles and your legs are on his shoulders. He thrusts that much deeper and hits the right spot to make you see spots.

“You like that, fuck I can see how deep I’m going in you.”

His hand finds your and puts it on your lower stomach and pushes down so you can feel the way he thrusts within you and how deep he reaches, you clench around him.

“Yea you like that.” He's cocky like this, dominant and all controlling. You’re putty in his hand.

“Simon I’m close don't stop please, fuck please.”

He lifts his mask up over his lips and kisses your ankle, biting your calf when he growls and that's all you need to be pushed over the edge.

“Fuck, yea cum on my cock good fucking girl.”

He fucks you through it and leans down to be face to face again. Your legs draped over his shoulders and he hits the right spot with each thrust now, he’s battering you into the mattress and his growling with each thrust muttering about how good you feel and how nicely you wrap about him.

You claw at his chest through his shirt sobbing and babbling and moaning.

“Can’t even form a proper sentence, so drunk on my cock yea? You gonna be a good girl and cum again for me?”

The graphic noises from where the two of you are joining echos through the room and you hope his neighbors aren't home.

“Yes, yes Simon please please please.”

The bed is an orchestra of noises and he shoots a hand up to the headboard, his knuckles gone white from gripping it so hard. Your abdomen is tight, so tight and your so fucking close you just want to cum at the same time as him.

“Fuck fuck fuck, so tight and wet where do you want me to cum, fucking tell me.”

“Inside me, inside me it’s safe.”

Not a beat after that leaves your mouth he’s seating himself so deep within you, you feel him throbbing deep within you and your vision goes blurry, ears gone fuzzy as you both are thrown into the abyss at the same time.

You hear a crack from above you but you pay no mind as your neck deep in pure white hot bliss.

“Fuckin hell love, really. Fuck.” He's panting, you’re panting.

You stroke his chest lovingly as he kisses your ankle as he slowly lowers your legs from his shoulders. He lowers his mask once more.

You glace up to where his hand still grips the headboard and a deep crack is ingrained in the wood.

You laugh.

“Jesus Simon, you fucked me so hard you broke your bed.”

He removes his hand observing the wood and shrugging.

“Well worth it I’d say, I’ll invest in a sturdier one.”

“Are you saying you’ll invite me to your place more often?”

“Your place works too.”

You both banter as you both clean up, you shower and he washes the sheets and hangs around the kitchen, letting you some time to refresh.

You come out of the bathroom smelling like him, drowned in one of his shirts and he's leaned up against his kitchen island gazing blindly at the random rugby channel he turned on.

He slides you a beer and you take it gratefully, bumping your glasses together.

“I mean it Y/N, I’m not the kind of man you might be thinking.”

“No Simon, you’re exactly the man I’m looking for, you’re stuck with me now.”

There's a beat of silence before Simon speaks up again.

“I should probably thank Johnny for tonight right?”

“Yea, he pretty much told me to quit my bitching and confront you.”

He sips his beer,

“Well, for once I can say thank fuck for Soap and his matchmaking skills.”

You laugh and stare at him in adoration, this is the start of something wonderful.

---

Tag list: @theredviolets

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kifkay · 5 months

Text

Winx & Specialists Dynamics that are so Precious to me

it makes sense that in the show, winx and their non-boyfriend specialists don’t interact much. but!! i’m very insane about codependent found families, and I want them all to love each other. so here’s my take on some tet-a-tet dynamics:

rare pairings:

Musa & Timmy: childhood frenemies. they used to go to the same middle school on Melody, and as type-A tweens do, had an intense, “you’re the only person I match myself to” kind of rivalry. they lost contact after Timmy moved away, chilled out considerably, reconnected in Alfea and had a wonderful banter-filled friendship since. because of how fast they slotted back into a friendship, some of their classmates genuinely thought they were siblings.

Tecna & Riven: got up from a rough patch. from “I dislike you but we both love Musa, so we have to be civil” to “you have more depths to you than I expected” to “now that I understand you, I can’t help but admire certain things about you” to “bitch, you are the only person who is as weird and clueless as I am, ARE YOU READY TO GO TO THE ARCADE AND ANNIHILATE KIDS FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES”

Flora & Brandon: little sister, older brother vibes. of similar temperaments and views, they enjoy spending time over a cup of tea — talking about everything and nothing. it’s therapeutic, almost.

(no one in the group knew that Brandon and Flo were good friends. once, when the two had to team up during a mission, Bloom couldn’t even finish saying: “it would be a good opportunity for you to get to know each ot-“, before the specialist-fairy duo were re-creating the most complicated and choreographed hand shake ever. jaws were on the floor.)

Aisha & Brandon: they are sporties, and they like doing sport things together! they don’t talk aside from exchanging brief encouragements and advice while out, preferring to spend their time in companionable silence. sorta like those dads who never talk to their buddies, but somehow have the strongest and longest bonds ever?

Helia & Bloom: artist besties. Bloom drags Helia out on picnics, where they practice observational drawing (and tiktok trends that Bloom desperately wants to reenact but none of the winx are good at arts); Helia responds by taking her out to see art museums in Magix. it’s a fun dynamic of Bloom being the bubbly gold retriever, and Helia being her black cat.

Tecna & Sky: they didn’t have much of a relationship until year 4. somehow, they both got really, intensely into weaponsmithing and built a joint workshop. they found that they enjoy working alongside each other and value each other’s insights. sky goes to tecna when he needs frank, un-sugarcoated advice, and tecna accompanies sky on hikes and other spirited adventures, for “bonding activities” (because he told her she doesn’t get out of her comfort zone enough). it’s a relationship of deep mutual respect.

Sky & Stella: childhood friends. they knew each other as children and enjoyed playing together (which is how Stella also knew Brandon pre-Red Fountaine). at least, until Stella was unofficially banned from Eraklyon because shenanigans, and they lost contact. they still jokingly call each other “My Lady” and “My Lord”.

Stella & Nabu. Both are flirty and extroverted people, who enjoy the spirit of showmanship. They have a friendly rivalry going of who can fluster the villain of the week the fastest.

canon bf-gf dynamics (dating in canon, open to interpretation otherwise):

Bloom x Sky: liked each other since the first meeting; bonded over being the friend group moms. (on unrelated note: bloom gentle parents her friends, while sky goes all exasperated cig mom on his team and repeats things like: “you better go to sleep right now, or so help me Dragon I will take away your Owl pilot privileges-“)

they are not the most outwardly affectionate couple of the winx, yet they are so wordlessly devoted to each other. sky will follow bloom to the ends of all dimensions, when she gets a calling from powers as mystical as she. bloom will always believe in him and see him as his own man, unlike the many who see him only as his father’s son. they were entwined by fate, long before one had met the other; yet, there’s the trust, the respect, the faith so strong — that could have only come from friendship forged and tested by fire.

Stella and Brandon: the hottest power couple; sole reason behind 60% of all student fairies/specialists/witches queer awakening.

they banter all. the. goddamn. time. these dorks are speaking a whole different language.

they are also most comfortable in each other’s company, being able to be their genuine, less polished selves. stella and brandon are both performers bred and born, playing the roles of a noble princess and a knight. it’s nice, to have a safe reprieve from all that acting.

Aisha and Nabu. their love was one that sneaked up on them. their distance, set by a discomfort at the idea of an arranged marriage, bridged as they transitioned from being reluctant comrades to friendly rivals to unwilling friends to best friends to “if someday the moon calls you by your name, don’t be surprised — because every night I tell her about you”

Tecna and Timmy: partners in crime, ride or die, sunny faith in each other — even when the other person doesn’t believe in themself. I have a whole post about them, go read that ;)

Flora and Helia: they are so. they are. they-

icons. the most romantic couple, the one that sets the standards, the one that gives their friends advice. they are extremely attentive to each other’s needs and tender with each other’s feelings.

flora can recite helia’s poems in her sleep, and trace his drawings with her eyes closed. helia brings mielle presents every time he stops by. flora has tea with helia’s dad every other tuesday; she keeps note of every time helia and saladin are supposed to meet up, to be able to whisk helia away after and distract him from his troubles. helia knows how to care of flora’s plants, and sends her lovingly assorted gift baskets semi-regularly.

Musa and Riven. their relationship is push and pull, is joy then sorrow.

it’s all in a drag of a cigarette, in the vortex of a starless night, in the hoarse laughter. “of all the people in the world, why did it have to be you?” she’ll say and smile.

“ I’m afraid we’re doomed, lover,” he’ll reply, faux-casually, and smile back. both of them will know it’s the truth.

their relationship was not built to last, not for the lack of love or try. maybe they were too similar — both headstrong, unbending, bleeding hearts. maybe they were just different enough not to understand their hurts. nevertheless, it was not built to last — but neither of them would ever bring to regret it. love prevails, no matter in what form in comes, or something like that.

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soobnny · 9 months

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loving is terrifying — han jisung. best friends to lovers. accidental confessions (1.6k words)

in the midst of ranting, han jisung accidentally confesses he’s in love with you

“And if I burn the whole school down, would you bail me out of jail, Hanji?”

You’re still only a few sentences into the important speech you were asked to write, and you’re starting to feel agitated, chewed up pencil carving out your thoughts on paper before finding its way abandoned on your desk.

It’s been a few hours, and you’d chosen to put the pencil down lest you want to bring yourself to insanity.

Pretty lies usually come easy to you, but now they’re burning holes into your skull and flicking the ashes into your brain. In the reprieve, all you can think about is your anger for the authority.

“Bold of you to assume I won’t be your accomplice.” Jisung retorts from where he’s seated next to you on the floor, arms crossed behind his head as he leans against his couch.

“There’s just so much wrong in the system. Their code of rules deprive students of their creativity. Only the top students have a multitude of opportunities waiting for them. And don’t get me started on how the authorities put so little value into culture and societal issues. Everything is wrong, just wrong in all ways!”

There’s a word count in Jisung’s head on how many times you’ve said wrong in one sitting, but he’s looking at you with a hint of something in his eyes. Almost adoration.

“And we can change it by burning the school down?” A tone of amusement is laced in your best friend’s voice, though you fail to search for a trace of judgment.

“We can start there. Then the world.” You take the pencil back and fiddle with it between your fingers.

“The world? That’s very ambitious of you.”

You glare at him.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t be by your side. I like ambitious.” Jisung smiles at you, making sure to lock his eyes with yours so you can see heavy genuineness where his pupils are. “What’s the next step then?”

“Climate change.”

Jisung throws his head back in quiet laughter, and the slight movement allows you a whip of his laundry detergent from the white shirt he’s wearing. “Okay, climate change.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not!” His lips quirk up into a smile, eyes morphing from crescents to a full moon as he struggles to defend his name. There is still laughter even in the way he licks the inside of his cheek and takes your hands in his.

You fail to copy his laughter.

“Your eyes are upset. Are they directed at me?” Jisung softens his voice, only speaking one his laughter has boiled down. He pulls you closer than you already are, and you don’t notice the way he grabs the pencil between your fingers in the process to set it down.

“Of course not.” You mumble. “I’m mad at everything else, at everything wrong.”

A tally adds to his word count.

You sigh when you let go of his hands to take the paper in your own, eyes leaden as they scan across the sentences you had bullshited earlier. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to write this.”

“Just scream it out.”

“What?”

“Scream out what you actually want to say.” He grins.

You gape at him.

“I’m not screaming in your living room. Your neighbors are going to think someone’s being murdered.”

“Then just say it. Whatever you want to say. Everything wrong.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Okay, I’ll start then.” He smiles, and it’s heart-warmingly encouraging. “I wish it was easier to ground myself. I live in my head most of the time, and opening up is hard, and I wish forming any form of relationship wasn’t so scary.”

“Ji—“

“Okay, now your turn.”

“We are not going to ignore what you just said.”

“I said, your turn.”

“Jisung.”

“Please?” He places a hand over yours, and it’s enough for your brain to short circuit.

“Alright, fine. But we are going to talk about it later.”

“Now, what about those things that are wrong?” Jisung asks, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before letting go.

“Well, uh— our poor education system, that’s for one. And, the government. Blatant sexism too, how stupid the patriarchy is, how I still can’t parallel park for the life of me.”

You start with sporadic things, the ones that instantly pop in your head when you think about things that make you upset, and as you continue to talk, you dig a little deeper, and you don’t even realize you’ve stood up and your hands are flailing around like a salesman by the second.

“And, don’t even get me started on the transportation system. It’s so dumb how car-centered design came to be because how is it that the people who have access to private vehicles also have the easiest routes over the less fortunate who walk or commute? Like, why do we have to adjust to the roads?”

There’s a long list of things you want to say, finally letting loose and narrating all the things you’ve kept locked away in the back of your mind because you’re with the one person you can trust. When you meet Jisung’s gaze, he’s looking at you in awe.

“I hate how we’re branded as prodigies when we were younger. I hate the expectations that come with it, that we have to be great all the time, and, oh, this actually feels really good.”

Jisung chuckles at the way you come to a sudden realization, but he’s always known you were wiser beyond your years. “You’re brilliant.”

“Well, you have to say something too!”

Jisung fiddles with his fingers, trying to think of where to start. Though, the brilliance that is you and the opportunity of having this moment with you is enough motivation for him to follow suit.

“Uh, it’s so scary how superficial people are nowadays, and how so quickly they’re let down. It stresses me out how a single mistake could cost you so many relationships, but at the same time, who will stress out if not me? And it makes me realize how lucky I am to have the people in my life, and having an opportunity to talk like this really fuels my positivity in life, and it makes me realize even more how much I strongly feel like my life is for you guys, and there is nothing more important to me than being able to be a good person for you guys, like you. I wish I could be the bestest friend for you, maybe even more than that, but fuck, loving is so scary so I wish you’ll never find out how I’m so so in love with you— wait.”

The room falls silent and he’s thinking of a thousand different ways to die on the spot. He’s embarrassed. This is embarrassing, and he’s thinking it really wouldn’t be too late to jump off the bedroom window and hope for the best. A thousand different ways, maybe pretend he never said anything, stand still and maybe you’d think he wasn’t there in the first place. A thousand different ways.

“Han Jisung.”

“Soooo, haha, where were we in your speech again?”

Jisung doesn’t meet your eyes for the fear of rejection. He doesn’t think he has the heart to handle it right now, especially not after his accidental confession.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“About how superficial people are? Of course, it’s so scary. Hey, did I tell you about the tim—“

“Is being in love with me something wrong?”

He falls silent, and you can visibly see him start to panic, and his hands are pressed together as if in a prayer as he’s shaking his head profusely. “No, oh god no, it’s not. Honestly, it’s one of the only things I’m sure of, and that says a lot because I’m not sure of anything. I’m not even sure I’m in the right course or the right school or if I’m spending my money the right way, or if I’m even gonna live tomorrow, but fuck, loving you and everything about you is something I will never question.”

You can feel yourself start to smile, and Jisung finds himself copying you. It’s one of the first things he knew he loved about you—your smile, and the way you think, and the sound of your laughter. Despite his erratic heart beating and his fear of this exact moment, he still finds himself smiling when you do.

“I’m in love with you too.”

“What?”

You can visibly see the gears in his head turn, and he’s writing a story he doesn’t know the ending to just yet, but the beginning is so beautiful because it’s with you. Then, he laughs. It’s breathy, and you can almost hear the relief. “Did you just say you love me?”

“I did.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“I’m in love with you, Han Jisung.”

“I’m going to die.”

You laugh, and then he snaps back into reality.

“Can I kiss you?” His tone is so careful, but there’s a hint of something you can only recognize as a slight desperation—like he’s been thinking of it a while.

Jisung reaches out to wrap his arms around your waist, albeit a little shy. It’s a pattern that’s already so familiar. He isn’t a stranger to hugging you, in fact, he’s done it a million times, but the connotations to this one is a little different, and he can’t think straight at the possibility that you might actually consent to letting him kiss you.

“Okay.”

Words that haven’t left being translated into the motion of his lips moving against yours. Honestly, he doesn’t even know who went in for the kiss first. All he knows is his hands are gently rested on your waist and he’s actually kissing you right now, and you can feel the way he’s smiling into the kiss.

It takes a few minutes for you two to pull away, a little out of breath, and he leans in to try and kiss you again but your noses bump against each other’s, and the pair of you can’t help but laugh at how the events of the night had turned.

Jisung marvels at the way everything feels so simple, so right.

“I’m not dreaming, right? Like this is actually happening?”

You laugh even more.

Jisung’s always been afraid of venturing into the unknown, always kept his feelings hidden, and he’s always loathed his mouth for being so uncontrolled with the things he says. But now, with you in his arms, he couldn’t be any more happier about the slip of his tongue and how being with you feels like one of the rare rights among all the wrongs.

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tbgkaru-woh · 8 months

Text

100 Dialogue prompts

Trying this out (feel free to tweak out any grammatical errors) so writers who are bored, have at it! ♥ Mix of Fluff, Angst and Smut

“I don’t see you that way”

“I will just do as I’m told. As I’ve always done”

“Have you never ridden a bike/horse before?”

“You don’t have to be so…formal”

“What happened to us?”

“Good things don’t happen to me”

“Interested in palm reading?”

“Bowing to you felt right”

“There, let me help you.”

“Next time, listen to yourself and not me”

“Why do you want to get in trouble so badly?”

“It’s him/her…isn’t it?”

“Are you keeping it?”

“Good to see a familiar face”

“You never had to ask me anything, let alone beg”

“Oh you again?!”

“I need to take you somewhere”

“With you gone, everything went wrong”

“Insufferable, see you at dinner”

“I wasn’t kissing you, I was saving your life!”

“You did all this already, why not finish the job?”

“I will look for you”

“I couldn’t see anything, I couldn’t breathe”

“You knew about it?”

“I will atone for what he/she did”

“You need to start having some faith.”

“Say what you want, I know what I’m feeling is right”

“It’s okay, you will move on. We will move on.”

“How much do you miss him/her? And what if you didn’t have to?”

“Focus on my hands, on my voice…”

“Perhaps you need to be reminded where you belong”

“I was fine having a non-sexual relationship with you, but instead I’m having non-relationship sex with him/her.”

“I wanted to do it for you and in hindsight it was a terrible idea”

“I’ve been inside him/her more than outside him/her”

“Don’t ask me with ‘please’, you’re paying me”

“Oh why won’t you just die already”

“Sometimes I wonder for how long have you wanted his/her heart and if you will ever stop”

“Filthy cheater, we go again!”

“Didn’t you pay your debt already?”

“I can’t get sick/injured.”

“You act like you’ve never been defeated”

“Diamond thrown into the trash still has the value of a diamond”

“I got engaged”

“All this was decided for me, I had no choice”

“I’m beginning to think not even the jail guards/cops want you around, given how many times they’ve let me bail you out”

“You, sir/madam, should watch your alcohol intake”

“I’ve been denying everyone, you’re not special”

“I’m not looking for a romance”

“Isn’t that immoral enough to tempt you?”

“We’re two sides of the same fucked up coin”

“That’s what I like to see, you are your parents’ best indeed!”

“You have nothing to lose right?”

“Oh I can’t wait to hear you sing”

“Anything you’d like to add to the conversation?”

“Hi.”

“You need to stop making me pick you up in places someone may see”

“I thought I was a puppeteer pulling the strings but instead I was a back seat audience”

“I want names, I want addresses, I’m gonna make them pay.”

“You know where to find me if you ever want me again.”

“My mother is visiting in like 5 minutes”

“Is it that, or is it because you’re in love with me?”

“Not being able to reciprocate has been the hardest part of my life”

“Did you kill someone?”

“Envious of my youth, are we?”

“The others may have gotten away…”

“I found you. Found you looking like you didn’t want to be found”

“Did we use to be a thing?”

“I can fix this. I can fix this…”

“Weird question, are you a supernatural being? Be honest”

“We should have never played Gods”

“Must you be so harsh with me all the time?”

“What did all these men/women do to deserve you?”

“We have a reputation to uphold”

“May I have this dance?”

“I am a bad influence on you!”

“Let’s make history”

“Who the hell wants to live forever.”

“Feeling any different?”

“Time waits for no one”

“You got your happy-ever-after. And for all I know, it’s because I didn’t.”

“Try that again and you’re gonna lose it”

“Didn’t I say one of these days you’re gonna be the death of me?”

“Do you know what my answer was?”

“You look pathetic.”

“Almost didn’t recognize your voice when it’s not yelling at me”

“I often find myself talking to those no longer here as well”

“Excuse me, this is not a buffet”

“I don’t suspect you because I’m the one who put him/her in the ground”

“You look like someone who likes a good gamble”

“I am poison”

“Feel free to stay as long as you need”

“You don’t need to understand, just be a good little thing”

“I’m gonna need your driver’s license, your ID and your phone number please~”

“Say my name”

“You…are telling the truth”

“Is that why you did that? Back there?”

“Stop reading my mind”

“I can teach you”

“How can you laugh?”

“Pretty pictures. I don’t have any”

“Heaven may fall, but __ can’t die.”

#dialogue prompt #writing prompt #dialogue prompts #otp prompts #prompts

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neerons · 6 months

Text

Some of Chevalier Michel’s best quotes

“You have plenty of time. Therefore, it’s not necessary to overload yourself to the point of harming your health just for the sake of learning. I’m not in a hurry. I’ll wait patiently for you to reach your full potential.”

“I don’t mind making you my woman.”

“If you value your life, trust no one.”

“Allowing their deaths to be in vain would be an affront to those who utterly devoted themselves to the kingdom.” (—Chevalier talking about the dead soldiers to Emma)

“That’s how values work. Just because two ways of thinking are incompatible doesn’t mean one is right and the other is wrong.”

“If you ever feel like crying, tell me. I’ll torment you so thoroughly that you’ll forget how to cry.”

“Until I’d met her, I’d never have considered letting another person touch me.” (—Chevalier’s thoughts about Emma)

“Can a man read in peace without you staring at his face?”

“Don't... say another man's name... so much. It grates on my ears.”

“You're quite graceless, you know? Your legs seem to be shaking.”

“You are my queen. It does not matter how many years go by, I have no intention of loving any other woman.”

“If the rabbit has time to spend with you, she'll spend it with me instead.” (—Chevalier talking about Emma to Clavis)

“I had no intention of letting anyone complain about a commoner being in a relationship with royalty, and it didn't bother me, either.” (—Chevalier's thoughts)

“What might your hand be doing in your pocket? I dare you to throw one of those concoctions of yours at me. Just know I will kick you into the next century.” (—Chevalier to Clavis)

“Maids are servants. They follow their master or mistress' orders, thus creating a clear discrepancy in power. But I do not wish you to be below me. What I desire is for us to be equals, serving each other in a cooperative and mutual manner.”

"...Now that I think about it, I was rather fond of you from the very beginning. (...) To begin with... is there any man who would barge into the room of a woman he doesn't like? The palace is huge. There are many places... where I could go to spend leisure time, instead of expressly going to your room."

"You look terrible. (...) There's no need to feel ashamed. Not everything that has value is beautiful."

"You're the one at fault for leaving the covenant YOU created so open to interpretation. A shame." (—Chevalier to Sariel)

"Currently, a servant manages the palace library, but he's no expert, so his work is sloppy. I've been dissatisfied with it for a while now, but... you're proficient at handling books, yes?"

"It's not that you 'can' stay by my side, it's that you 'will' stay by my side."

"(...) Do you think I would allow you to die so easily after you laid a hand on my lover? (...) I've said as much before, but dying is not what you should be doing. What you should be doing is returning home to your loved ones, no matter how shameful you look." (—Chevalier to Flandre)

"Ever since I was a child, love had been the one thing I was most indifferent to. (...) My one and only reason is that I wanted to know what love was. Ridiculous, I know."

"I'm not so famished that I'd eat something I don't need. ...I want you so much that I could just eat you all up right now."

"(...) Any guest of Emma's is a guest of mine as well." (—Chevalier talking about an enemy to Clavis)

"...If you stay with me, many things will be taken away from you, and you'll be limited in what you can do. Sometimes, you'll have to bear the heavy responsibility of royalty, and occasionally your life may be threatened. You'll be the target of scheming. Other people will look upon you either favorably or unfavorably—nothing in between. No picturesque world like those found in your romance books exists in a real palace. You'll see it for yourself. Despite all that, do you still stand by the nonsense you spoke of earlier?"

"When every man in the kingdom knows you're mine—they'll stay away from you, lest they incur the wrath of the Bloody Tiger."

"It wasn't in an official capacity. It was personal time. I simply wanted to have you with me as always. You should be grateful. You don't have much time left at the palace, and I'm going out of my way to spend time with you."

"Hurry up and prove the value of love, simpleton. While we're still able to be together like this."

"It doesn't matter to me what happens to them... But it matters to someone else." (—Chevalier talking about Luke, Rio and Emma to Clavis)

"On the battlefield, you belong to the second prince. Remember, dying would be foolish, and even getting hurt would be a transgression."

"I came to save you. ...Did you think that's what I would say, simpleton?"

"I'm not so idiotic that I'd let low-lives like those do me in. I'll cut down every last person who rises up against me."

"I never had any intention of letting an enemy nation have you."

"You faced the Brutal Beast... so that you could fulfill your duty as Belle. We couldn't understand each other because our values were polar opposites... yet you tried to meet halfway. You believed that the beast was a person and tried to discern his true nature. It was the first time I'd ever met... a woman with such strange tastes. Actually... even if I searched the entire kingdom, I wouldn't find anyone as eccentric as you. 'I want the person I love to live, no matter the cost to me. I want to be by his side... I'll do whatever it takes to make that happen. (...) I feel the same way. You call this emotion... 'love', correct?"

"The king's lover will most likely face many difficulties, but unfortunately, I have no desire to bestow my favor on anyone but you."

"Emma, look at me. (...) You're no longer Belle, right? (...) Is that the first time I used it? It's not that big of a deal, is it?" (—Chevalier saying Emma's name for the first time)

"I don't want to be disturbed during mealtimes. I've decided to lock the door whenever you're here."

"Currently, only one woman is close to the king. There seem to be many fools who believe they can crush the leading candidate for queen and have their own daughter marry me instead." (—Chevalier talking about Emma to Clavis)

"Do I look like I care? And do you really think I'm going to do something as stupid as losing such a valuable pawn?" (—Chevalier talking about Emma, in Gilbert's route)

"Until now, the Obsidian royal family have had nothing but war on their minds, but through this we can rebuild our friendship. This is a sizable accomplishment. This accomplishment was achieved by just one woman... and we most certainly cannot disrespect what it means." (—Chevalier to Emma, in Gilbert's route)

"The only occasion I have spent time with another person and found worth in it... was with you." (—Chevalier's thoughts about Emma)

"She's eager to hear whether I like the fragrance or not. But it is her own scent. There is no way I could dislike it." (—Chevalier's thoughts about Emma)

"I don't need you to tell me my fool brother's worth. I knew it from the start." (—Chevalier talking about Clavis to Emma)

"As long as you were convinced you couldn't win, there was no way for you to unlock your full potential. That's why you never stopped failing. You were never going to win unless you believed in yourself." (—Chevalier to Clavis)

"People are fools. Everyone is contradictory in some way, because they're not perfect, and they can't be. But you and my fool brother are both fine that way. (...) Someone who is free of contradictions, who always chooses the right path... cannot really be called human. They're nothing more than a beast." (—Chevalier talking about Emma, Clavis and himself, to Emma)

"I learned how from watching you do it countless times." (—Chevalier talking about doing Emma's hair)

"They have the kind of decoration my fool of a brother would like." (—Chevalier talking about cookies with colorful and festive icing that Clavis would enjoy)

"...You're the only one. The only woman who would take pleasure in being at my side."

"Sometimes, you have quite violent coughing fits. I have a fool brother who gets ill a lot. The physician gives him this tea regularly, so I swiped some." (—Young Chevalier giving rose tea to his 'childhood friend')

"(...) keep cajoling him. You can shape the menace that he is." (—Chevalier talking about Gilbert to Emma)

"...I knew I made the right choice when I chose you as my pawn." (—Smiling Chevalier praising Emma, in Gilbert's route)

"An auction master working in collaboration with the Obsidianites had an official document from the king of Benitoite. That's quite a big catch, simpleton." (—Chevalier praising Emma's discovery, in Silvio's route)

"...I want you so much that I could just eat you all up right now."

"My clothes will be gone soon enough. After all, I have only one reason for locking a woman in a room like this. (...) Love me, Emma. This is an order from the king, and it's absolute."

"I recall you writing that you love hearing my voice. If that is what you want, you may hear it as much as you like."

"Hundreds of medical books, both domestic and foreign, are stored in my head."

"To have nerve enough to approach me... She's quite the woman." (—Chevalier's thoughts about Emma)

"That gaze of hers struck me as straight as an arrow, and unneeded emotions began to well up within me." (—Chevalier's thoughts about Emma)

"Don't be ridiculous. She would never be interested in the likes of you fools." (—Angry Chevalier talking about Emma and his brothers to Leon)

"I would far prefer to have you to myself than let that man have you." (—Chevalier talking about Gilbert)

"Indeed. I'm so vexed, I could throttle someone to death." (—Chevalier teasing Emma)

"You are our Belle. You spend your time determining our worth. Use some of those skills for yourself too." (—Chevalier telling Emma to care about herself more)

"I am not asking for a 'good' drawing. I am asking for your drawing."

"This is a Rhodolitian handshake. The more it hurts, the stronger your display of friendship." (—Chevalier to Gilbert)

"I don't believe I have ever seen Emma read it before. Perhaps I will recommend it to her. She cannot stay in the dark about it forever." (—Chevalier's thoughts while he's picking a romance book for Emma to read)

"If 'lovable' could be defined by any person, it would be her." (—Chevalier's thoughts about Emma)

"I had often read about this urge to dote, but I had not understood it until meeting her." (—Chevalier's thoughts about Emma)

"Theoretically, I have no use for romance novels now that I have Emma. However, thanks to her, I have learned how to enjoy them with no other motive." (—Chevalier's thoughts)

"I've become fond of seeing the variety of emotions on your face as you go through a book."

"Hm? Ah. Don't worry about the blood. I was just 'playing' with my brother who's made it his hobby to tease you." (—Chevalier's lobby dialogue)

"This absurdly lovely woman has my dearest affections." (—Chevalier translating his words of love from another language to Emma)

"The reason I still function so well despite having discarded my humanity is because I have my fool brother. And conversely, the reason my fool brother can do as he pleases is because he knows I'll always be there at the final moment." (—Chevalier talking about Clavis to Emma)

"Severing your Achilles tendon shall do the trick." (—Chevalier threatening Licht)

"I never had much chemistry with the twins. (...) They were just noisy children who cried if I so much as looked at them. However, one day, they stopped crying. No... If I think about it, there was a clear turning point." (—Chevalier's thoughts)

"It is true that you are useless right now, Licht, but you do not have to be that way forever. (—Chevalier's thoughts)

"Even with the first aid I have given you, it would be in your best interest to put on a convincing act for your twin if you do not wish to shock him." (—Chevalier to Licht)

"Oh? That was a much more thorough analysis than I would have expected from someone so heavily wounded. With some training, he could become an excellent commander." (—Chevalier's thoughts about Licht)

"Textbooks can be helpful, but not in the way that it obscures her lovely face." (—Chevalier's thoughts about Emma)

"I was never much one for drawing, but once during our childhood, Clavis pestered me to sketch something. Back then, I knew he suspected me to be a terrible artist, and asked me to do so in order to expose me. The resulting tantrum when his expectations were reversed was certainly memorable." (—Chevalier's thoughts)

"I would value this far beyond what any professional artist could draw. There is, however, something missing. (...) I must prepare a frame for this at once." (—Chevalier adding a little bunny on Emma's drawing of him as a tiger)

"I have never, ever laughed as much as I have with her. No wonder she is the one making my facial muscles exercise so much." (—Chevalier's thoughts)

"I want to do whatever it takes to see her entire spectrum of emotions." (—Chevalier's thoughts)

"Every second that ticked by was becoming another moment for me to cherish. I suddenly became overwhelmed by gratitude for being born the person I was. It won't be long before the entire collection of my memories is overtaken by you. And it will be just the way I like it." (—Chevalier's thoughts about Emma)

#might add more later #chevalier michel #ikepri chevalier michel #ikemen prince #ikemen series #quotes #cybird #otome game #cybird otome

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anothermansjeans · 4 months

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not sure if you’re taking requests but i would love to see a part two to the singer!reader, like maybe the team all goes to her concert together! thank you!

HI!! i'm so glad the people loved the first singer!reader blurb!! this is a part 2 to the first one, and while the whole team isn't at her concert, i added penelope in!! i have plans for when the team first meets reader which will be in a separate blurb! hope you enjoy :)

cw: spencer and penelope at reader's concert :) a swear word (1), spencer is flustered

wc: 2k (i may have over done it)

singer!reader masterlist

Spencer sat in the cold police precinct in Philadelphia with JJ, Rossi, and Penelope (she was a vital resource, needing to come with the team on this case), counting down the minutes until Hotch, Derek, Emily, and a few Philly officers came back with the unsub in custody. As soon as they got back and the case was deemed closed, he could go and see you.

Obviously, he went to your concert last night, had you stay over, and slept in as much as possible before you had to leave for your next stop on tour and Spencer had to get to the office. The reason he was so hellbent on seeing you tonight as well is because when you're touring and he does his regular BAU job, the two of you barely see each other. Your tour kicked off three months ago, starting in Europe, and he didn't get to visit any of those shows, so when the U.S leg came around, he wanted to be as present as possible.

That too, was very hard.

Spencer loves his job, really, he does, but when he plans on using the allotted resting days the team gets after a case to visit you, and ends up getting called in anyway… he has grown some resentment over the time. So now– here in Philadelphia, where you are– he plans on missing out on the trip back with the team and instead, watch your show again. The only other thing in the back of his mind right now were the words of your last text to him.

Y/N: OH MY GOD OKAY!! i’m so happy you can make it, spence 🫶

Y/N: omg PLEASE invite that friend of yours too!! i'm so sorry she couldn't get tickets for d.c :(

When Spencer initially told you about Penelope and how she ousted your relationship just from a video online, you completely lost it. In a “oh my God, I'm going to piss my pants, I’m laughing so hard” kind of way. Your exact words to him when he was on the phone with you as he sat in his hotel room. You didn't have a problem with his friends and family knowing. You actually encouraged him to let his closest people in, but he valued you and how you wanted to keep him out of the public eye as much as possible, so he simply didn't say anything to anyone. The respect you have for each other is insanely beautiful.

So he felt as though he was between a rock and a hard place. He wanted to let the team in. They're his family, but once he lets them in– once he invites Penelope to this free concert offered by his girlfriend, he was losing an extra security blanket in keeping your wishes. He knew your wishes were solely there to benefit him and his job and her personal life, but it was still something that worried you to the point of breaking down every once in a while, and he would do everything in his power to make sure that doesn't happen again.

When those who went out to obtain the unsub came back, Spencer stood up, knowing once they got the confession they were done, and went to idly walk by the desk Penelope was sitting at.

“Yes, Mr. Into You. how can I help you?” She smirked at her words, causing Spencer to roll his eyes.

“You don't know that song is about me.” Her deadpan expression caused Spencer to sigh, “okay, fine. Anyway, I was wondering if you had plans for tonight. Like, after the case.”

Placing her hand on her chest, she batted her eyelashes. “Well, sweets, I'm flattered, but I don't think your girlfriend would be too happy.”

“Penelope.”

“Sorry!”

Wringing his fingers together, Spencer bit the inside of his cheek. “Y/N has a concert here in Philadelphia–”

“I’m well aware.”

“And she told me to invite you along tonight. She’s sorry you couldn't get tickets to D.C.”

A gasp left her lips and she stood to her feet quickly, “oh my lanta!” The volume of her voice caused chatter to quiet around them, and she sheepishly smiled at everyone, “sorry! But oh my– Spencer, are you joking? Because if you are, this is cruel and unusual punishment, Dr. FBI man.”

“It’s not a joke, Pen.”

“Eek!” She threw her arms around his neck without thinking, and Spencer, while he hesitated at first, eventually welcomed the hug. “Thank you so much!”

“You can thank her when you meet her.”

“Meet her–? I– oh…” Her eyes went wide with excitement, “I am so excited!”

And so was he. He didn't show it until the two of them got there though. You were very busy getting ready before the show, so when your manager met him and Penelope in the back of the venue, he insisted that the two of them went straight to your friends and family section and that he could see you afterwards. The excitement in his eyes became very apparent the moment the opening chords to your song Positions. Penelope was singing and dancing, while Spencer did his signature head bop– that's how you knew you made a good song.

it was about halfway through the set when you got to Nonsense, a song everyone looked forward to. You did a different outro every stop of the tour. Yesterday’s outro was a very colorful depiction of him and his… skills in the bedroom because you knew he was going to be there. There was no way he’d be embarrassed again.

“This song’s catchier than chicken pox is

I bet your house is where my other sock is

Woke up this morning, thought I’d write a pop it

How quickly can you take your clothes off, pop quiz?

There's a lot to do out here in philly

My man came here so he can come and feel me

His body keeps me warm, I'm never chilly.”

You laughed as you looked over to the family and friends section, and immediately recognized the face you love becoming tinted with red by the minute. A couple songs later, you performed one of your newest songs, Vigilante Shit. You were the most excited for this portion of your set when you added it after it first released. You were on break after the Europe leg and couldn't stop going over all of the choreography, Spencer being the very first person not on your team to watch, and he thought it was incredible (even if it was with a kitchen chair in his living room).

When performing, you always put on your best show, but sometimes, if Spencer’s in the audience, you amp it up a bit. Which is what you did now. One of the moves involved having a leg propped up on the chair and slinking your hand down your body. When Spencer was there, you went extra hard with the facial expressions, giving it more sexuality. You also made sure to roll your body and stick your ass out a bit more whenever you stood up from the chair, making sure you're giving him a good view. It’s what your boyfriend deserved.

And while you always thought you were doing good by him (because he would never tell you otherwise), he was always as red as a tomato– especially now with Penelope next to him, moving her phone camera between you and him, capturing the dance and his reaction. He felt his warm cheeks begin to cool when you moved onto your next song, but that flush inevitably came back the moment you picked up your guitar for the acoustic set and shifted your eyes towards him.

“We are now moving onto the acoustic set!” The crowd went wild, as always, and you continued, “tonight is actually a little different… I’ll still sing ‘Picture You’ and ‘Dress’, but I wanted to add a new one.” You began strumming your guitar gently, “It’s not released yet, but I have someone here I want to dedicate it to… this one’s about you, you know who you are. I love you.”

“Oh my God!” Penelope once again whipped out her phone, but all Spencer could do was stare at your trembling hands as you continued to strum.

“Oh, no, did I get too close?

Oh, did I almost see what's really on the inside?

All your insecurities

All the dirty laundry

Never made me blink one time”

He held his breath as you continued to sing.

“Unconditional, unconditionally

I will love you unconditionally

There is no fear now

Let go and just be free

I will love you unconditionally”

And he released the air from his lungs.

“Come just as you are to me

Don't need apologies

Know that you are worthy

“I’ll take your bad days with your good

Walk through the storm, I would

I do it all because I love you

I love you”

And as you continued with the song, Spencer felt tears well up in his eyes. Of course, he didn't let any of them fall, slyly wiping them as Penelope was putting her phone back away.

You had about 2 songs left when Spencer spotted one of your security guys discreetly getting his attention so that he could go backstage. He tapped Penelope on the shoulder, and tilted his head towards the guy. “We’re gonna watch the rest of the show backstage if that's okay?”

Mouth opening and shutting, she nodded her head, following the two men in front of her. Spencer could tell Pen felt out of her element back there with the rest of the crew, especially knowing that in about thirty seconds now, you were going to be saying your goodbyes and head off stage.

“Thank you so much, Philadelphia! I had a wonderful time. Thank you to my band, and my dancers. The amazing audio techs and the entire crew that keeps this show running! Have a great night!”

Running towards them, you gave Spencer a big smile before leaping into his arms to give him a hug. “Hi. You were incredible,” you felt him mutter against your neck.

“Hi. Thank you,” you muttered back, only staying in his arms a second longer so that you could greet the other guest. “Hi, I’m Y/N!”

“H-Hi! I’m Penelope!” Not knowing what to do, she stuck out her hand, but you brushed it aside, opting for a hug instead.

“I’m more of a hugger.”

She laughed and gave you a nod as you released each other. “Me too.” She looked between you and Spencer for a moment with a wide grin. “You're even prettier in person. You're also incredible, and your music is amazing and I love everything about you.”

“You're too sweet,” you gave a pout when thinking of her words, “you're gorgeous as well! And I love this dress! Spencer has told me all about you and the rest of the team.”

The three of you continued to chat for a bit, and once you noticed the crew packing things up, you turned towards Penelope and gave her a smile. “Do you want to go out with us? We were just gonna grab dinner.”

“Oh, no! I have someone picking me up.”

“Are you sure?” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yes, boy genius, I’m sure. Derek stayed behind so that he could get me back to Quantico. Oh! You need to meet the rest of the team sometime.”

You immediately agreed, squeezing Spencer’s hand so he knows to introduce you to everyone else soon. “One hundred percent.”

“Anyway, I will let you two love birds go. Have a nice night, and I’ll see you at the office, Spencer!”

After getting security to show Penelope where to go to leave, Spencer turned back towards you and pulled you back into his arms. He has never felt so loved in his life, and thinking about you, and that song, and everything life has to offer him at the moment caused the unshed tears from before to finally fall.

“Spencer, are you okay?” You pulled back to see the tears, and cupped his face, “baby, why are you crying?”

“The song was beautiful.”

He didn't answer you explicitly, but from his words mixed with the reaction you knew what was going on. “Thank you… I love you so much,” you said, wiping his cheeks.

“Unconditionally?”

You scoffed and shook your head. “Of course silly.”

singer!reader taglist: @itsleilabxtch @wietske27 @taylorswiftilovecowboylikeme @marshatesthisreality @ladylincoln @delightfulmakerpiegiant (tagged some people based in interest! lmk if you want to be taken off the taglist!)

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

#THE FORMATTING TOOK FOREVER IM SO SORRY #TWAS SUPPOSED TO BE OUT AT 5:30 EST :(#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr spencer reid x reader #singer!reader

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divineidolatry · 8 months

Text

CONSTANTLY IN THE DARKNESS — CHAPTER 1

— written by june.

pairing: coriolanus snow x reader*

rating: explicit (18+) — mind the tags, see masterlist for disclaimers

summary: against your wishes, you call the curtain on your relationship with coriolanus snow and walk out of his life for good. against your wishes, he waltzes back in like nothing's changed.

tags: exes to lovers, it's complicated, slow burn but they're constantly fucking, manipulation, toxic relationship, power play, unprotected sex, bdsm, dom!coriolanus, sub!reader, edging, overstimulation, orgasm denial, spit kink, bondage, pearl play, choking, shoe riding, degradation, dirty talk, brat taming, penetrative sex (piv), aftercare

taglist: comment on the masterlist to be added to the taglist.

wordcount: 4,352

just before our love got lost you said "i am as constant as a northern star" and i said "constantly in the darkness, where's that at? if you want me i'll be in the bar."

“Coriolanus…” You drop the silver cutlery on the fine porcelain, the sound sharp enough that he winces. Good. This should hurt him as much as it hurts you. “What are we even doing anymore?”

His face holds that cold expression you can’t read, beautiful and impossible, a question you saw the first day you met him and you knew you wanted to crack him open.

You always knew he had ambition, and you possessed plenty to match. Power called to you from an early age, you’d just gotten smarter about you grabbed it. Still, he made you better. He made you sharper. And in turn, you could make him look soft enough to please.

But the parts of you that slotted together like perfect gears before had grown jagged and mismatched now. His ambitions mean more than you. They come before you. A part of you thinks it would be okay if he still made room for you at the end of the night, but it’s all perfunctory and dutiful.

“We need to talk. Actually talk.”

It’s not for a lack of trying to understand him, but there’s walls in Coryo that shift position, closing him off when you’re not careful enough. Talking with him turns into talking to him. He never did share much, even when you made it clear that you supported his ambitions, never troubling him with your own. You’re big girl, after all, independent and capable, you can hold your own value and underscore his. You know how to charm the worst of them and flatter the best of them, you are an asset beyond compare and yet he’s losing interest. Galling.

“I’ve been loyal, beyond a shadow of a doubt. I’ve kept clean in public so you can defile me in private. I play your game so well, and yet…” You flick your finger against the crystal wine glass, lipstick stains rimming the edge. You dressed to the nines tonight, giving him a last chance to look at you, at everything you offered him as a partner in every sense of the word. “You make me feel like I’m doing something wrong.”

His silence hangs heavy and painful in the air between you two. There’s something so pristine and perfect about the room that itches in your gut, that sometimes makes you want to take the knife and stab him through the back of his hand just to see if he’d even flinch.

“Am I not good enough for you anymore?”

Oh, how icy his gaze is. It cuts right through you, past all your defenses.

These dinners, once bubbling with conversation and excited plans about the next chance you’d have to shift the board, have turned to quiet and perfunctory affairs now. He meets your eyes less and less on the university campus. You spend hours waiting for him in the quiet hallways on the top floor no one goes to, doing your seminar readings in the same hidden alcove where he once liked to make you moan so high a rumor had spread of a ghost haunting.

It doesn’t matter to you that he is busy, it mattered that he stopped including you, that he didn’t even try. And you can’t get through to him. It’s getting sad — worse, stale. On top of that, people are talking. Gossip loud enough that you could hear it from the back rows in lecture halls, of discord between Panem’s golden future and his leading lady. Bad metrics for both of you… and it fucking stings too.

His heart isn’t in your mouth anymore, and you are beginning to starve. And he’d let you.

You fold up the napkin, dropping it on top of the half-finished meal, knowing the waste will irk him. Whatever hook you still have in him you will pull on. You must. You refuse to go down without damages.

“This is what you want, isn’t it? It’s easier this way, me deciding to leave you, that way you won’t have to clean up the mess. That’s why you’ve been so cold, right?”

He doesn’t speak. Pushing the chair out, you get up and walk the length of the table, your heels clicking loud against the marble. You move close to him, press your body against his and feel the heat of his breath on your skin… but his expression does not shift, and you shake your head with a pained noise catching in your throat.

“I don’t think you are this cold,” you whisper, slipping your hand in under his shirt, pressing your fingers against his chest. His heart beats hard and strong. “I hope you realize when I’m gone…” You trail off, struggling with the words.

Silence. Again. He’s leaning back in the chair, watching you try to reconcile this… and he is letting you flounder. Has he allowed you to ask for his time with the intention to give you nothing? The cruelty in that hurts even worse.

“Goodbye, Coriolanus.” You press a soft kiss to his cheek, scraping your nails over his skin, hoping it stings as much as his icy silence does. You gather your bag and coat, and leave his penthouse quietly.

In the elevator, you wipe at an errant tear. The air around you feels crushing but you cannot give in under pressure. You won’t.

For a few days, you don’t cry. You had foreseen this outcome to the conversation after all, made your preparations to leave as little behind as possible, and fortified yourself to understand that no matter how perfect a match you seemingly were for each other, you still actively had to choose one another. Whatever had consumed him also kept him from letting you in as he used to, and it meant he was no longer choosing you.

The barb still lodged itself deep in your chest, leaking poison all the same.

You go through the motions, brushing your hair, washing your face, studying. It’s in one of the lectures, the professor slipping through the lackluster material, that it hits like a fist between the ribs, and you clutch at your side remembering how Coryo would have made this make sense to you. It hits all at once how he’s not there, won’t be, he’s not going to make even the dullest media history class shine bright anymore.

When the tears come, it is Clemensia who wipes them away, lets your head rest in her lap, and offers to fetch the rest of your things. She was his friend first; you’d been a year under them in the Academy. When she comes back she doesn’t say if he reacted, though you doubt he was even at home. She strokes your hair, assuring you she won’t pick a side. Through all her care of you in the weeks to come, she proves her words, not letting you flinch away in public.

“Just because he plays a good game,” she reminds you, “doesn’t mean you can’t make a better move.”

You slowly get back on your feet, keeping her words in mind. She helps with applying your makeup on days when your hands are too shaky, keeping your perfectly crafted mask in place. She glues herself to your side as you attend classes, keeping it cordial with Coriolanus while your gaze slips past him. You forgot how good it felt to be someone’s priority.

“Why are you being so nice about this?” you ask one night, exasperated as she’s getting you ready for a party, squirming in your seat. You don’t feel ready for re-emerging into society, but what choice do you have? Crawl into a hole and vanish? You’d never give him the pleasure.

She rolls her eyes and gets up off the floor to fetch a dusty bottle of posca from the shelves.

“It’s not that different,” she says, handing a glass over to you. “I was in his corner too, and it bit me. Hard.” She grimaces, scratching at her wrist before rolling down the sleeve over her hands.

“Did you two…” You have wondered, after all, jealousy flickering at times like a dangerous question mark.

“Not like that! I just needed him to show up for me, to do this one thing, and he was busy chasing his own greatness.”

It's a relief to hear, mostly because you have an easier time believing her than him. “But you got over it.”

“I can’t fault him. If you’re here, it means something, and it’s not always flattering.” She wrinkles her nose at the posca even as she drinks it down. “When you want something so bad because you need to make sense of the world, to bring some sense of order to the chaos of life… I know you get it. He’s always been this way, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Her words are just a whisper as she pins curls in place on your head, her hand lingering to trace your chin as she examines your face.

Clemensia had taken a liking to doing these little things for you, drawing from a deep well of knowledge she’d amassed. It had become an outlet for her, creativity to couple with her own ambition. She liked to practice different looks on you before paring them down to a more fitting style suitable to current trends, but each flourish of her brush warmed your skin.

You knew that duality well — of wanting to create and struggling to find the time and place. Ever since you were small, your parents had clung to the idea that singing lessons and dance classes were of utmost importance, even keeping them going during the war. They wanted you to excel, rise in standing, and it had honed you.

Unbidden, one of his old comments floats up in your mind, making your breath stutter. ‘You have the prettiest voice of all the girls in Panem, do you know that?’ And while you scoffed then, your ego bloomed under his praise. ‘Tell me more about how much you love my voice, Coryo…’

“Hey… come back to me, you better not ruin the hard work I’ve just done, I don’t do hard work for just anyone, you know?” Clemmie teases, but you can see a stern look in her eyes. You don’t have a lot of time, and she isn’t keen to waste it. “We have somewhere to be soon, okay?”

You nod. She’s right. The Capitol’s numerous galas and grand events throughout the year had kept going despite your broken heart, and tonight is the Rose Ball, an extravagant gala held in the grand conservatory with an orchestra playing and the guest list consisting of only the names of the highest esteem in the Capitol. And your name was still on it. Tonight, you intend to make sure it isn’t the last invite sent your way, no matter what.

Clemensia finishes with a lipstick red as wine, smiling as she puts her hands on your shoulders and turns you to the mirror.

“Look at you,” she says, tilting your chin up so the light catches the pearlescent shimmer dusted on your skin. “Everyone will be falling for you. And he will have no choice but to watch what he lost.”

You shiver in excitement.

You share the ride with some people Clemensia knows, and while they gossip away, you sit alone with your thoughts, the mask wavering for a moment. This is the first formal gathering you’re attending since the split… Several months of picking up the pieces to pretend like everything’s fine, to recoup as much of your image as possible, while still doing him the courtesy to not hurt his. You have been so good, and still people look at you as if you made a mistake and not him.

Tonight would be harder to find a bathroom to tuck away into, an empty study room to make your safe haven. No cover to hide behind, so you needed to don the appropriate armor, to appear unaffected. To tell a tale to outdo his. After all, Clemensia’s right, everyone can be made to want you. You will move on, and you will make him regret it while you do. You will remind him that your heart isn’t a delicate plaything, but a fire furious enough to match his.

You play with the pearls around your neck, the matching gold and pearl earrings bouncing against your cheek as the car passes over cobblestoned streets. They are the very same Coriolanus gifted you on your first anniversary, and weighted with memories. You thought about throwing them away immediately after the break-up, but that would have said something about him winning, and you can’t stand that.

Clemensia, hawk-eyed as ever, notices your nervous fiddling and nudges your foot with hers right as the car pulls up to the entrance. “Shall we then?” Clemensia offers you her arm and you take it gratefully. You revel in the sync of your heels clicking as you ascend the hard steps to your most important battlefield yet.

Past the heavy gilded doors, the gala’s milling crowd slows down as you enter, eyes drawn to you. You hold your head high, gripping Clemensia’s arm tight. No one here will get the pleasure of seeing you flinch. They announce your names, and you smile, brilliant and beautiful. The corset underneath your rose-red dress keeps your back straight, reminiscent of old elegances that has the old garde softening for you.

You think you spot him on the far end of the room, but the shadows are long and the lights dimmed. His gaze feels a certain way though, and there’s a wicked warmth in your chest that only he has ever made you feel.

“I’m going to do reconnaissance,” Clemensia says as she gives your hand a squeeze. “Let me get the lay of the land.”

“Go, go.” You wave her off, confidently stepping into a circle that parts to let you in amongst them, laughing at the right time. If there is one dance you know better than any other, it is this: the social graces and manners expected of you in these cutthroat places, where the marble runs red with lies and blood. Your heels know where to step even when sleepwalking.

While your mask does not waver, you sure feel bare under all the scrutiny, hungry gazes roving over every bared slip of skin on your arms. After what feels like hours of compliments, cruelties and layered comments, you find a brief escape in an alcove on the second floor, rubbing at your sore ankles as you catch your breath, head spinning. Roses weigh in on all sides of you, enchanting and heady. If you had to say something nice, it’s that Coriolanus knows how to work with the best event planners the Capitol has to offer.

You rip off a handful of petals, crushing them until the fragrant oils spill forth, and press them down the front of your dress before you get up to continue mingling.

The night is long: a dance with the Featherpillow boy a year your junior who easily dances circles around most of the men here; a glass of champagne with the Fairweather twins as you chat about the latest fashion trends and they enviously compliment your pearls; Clemensia whisking you away to a polite and stiff conversation with the Ravenstills. The night goes on for some time in this manner, gliding between dances, advances, and gossip. No one can seem to keep you in one place.

And everywhere you go, you feel the constant, unrelenting pierce of eyes on you. Not just the masses… his.

You are showing him up. Everyone knows it. Coming to his event with seemingly no hard feelings, dressed like a classical painting, fielding every conversation with natural ease and charisma. Everyone wants to see you, talk to you, be seen with you. It’s a move that will have lesser men folding their hands.

Coryo isn’t.

There’s no shortage of attention in his corner, the constant requests for a word from important political seats and fellow society greats, and invitations to dance which he only takes when you do. The undertow between you is palpable. He is an inevitability, you can feel it when you draw close during dances, gazes brushing past each other.

He is throwing you off, little by little, his smile blistering bright and dangerous across the room, and he catches you looking. Just once. And once is all he needs.

You swipe a glass of posca from a passing waiter, knocking it back in one go. This wasn’t part of your plan.

It definitely isn’t a part of the plan that Coriolanus appears in front of you, taking the empty glass away from you with a cool smile.

“May I have the next dance?” he asks, voice perfectly warm and polite. Every single eye watches the two of you with rapt attention as he offers his hand out to you.

He knows you can’t turn him down now, and he is relishing in it. His eyes are lit up, a fire in them you have not seen in months. You put your hand in his, beaming up at him.

“It would be my pleasure,” you say, dragging out the last word until it drips like daggers from your lips.

The two of you assume the starting position, you with one hand in his, the other on his shoulder, and you can’t help but notice that it is all too comfortable a role to slip back into: the perfect pair, polished and primed for the show. A lone pianist begins to play, and you recognize the tune as one of your very favorites… one you played for Coriolanus more than once on the grand piano in his penthouse.

Maintaining a polite expression, you shoot him a look. “Did you request this piece?”

“It’s your favorite, is it not?” He keeps it civil. More than civil, he keeps it warm, saccharine sweet even as he continues to lead you without a single misstep while giving the audience a perfect dance.

“I thought you’d forget about me,” you say, testing the waters. “Like you do to everyone who no longer interests you.”

“You think I’d be that cruel?”

“I know you would be.”

A hum rumbles in his chest and you feel it against your body, heating your cheeks. The dance goes on, gliding and spinning, the room growing dizzying either from the drinks or the way he won’t drop eye contact with you.

This much attention from him was not the plan, definitely not the goal, and as the tempo slows for the twinkling end of the piece, you think you might fall over if not for the sheer adrenaline coursing through you… and the firmness of his grip, fingers digging into the back of your corset.

As the music falls quiet, there’s a brief moment where you could hear a pin drop, the tension in the air releasing as the audience applauds. You blush, bowing to him, simmering with the dual-edged feeling of having been made a spectacle of — and a part of you enjoyed it because it was him doing it.

He offers his arm to you and you hesitate, wanting to search out Clemensia in the crowd, but with the expectant eyes still on you, it’s hardly the time to turn him down.

Shit.

You take his arm with trepidation, chewing the inside of your cheek as he leads you to the upper level of the conservatory. As you pass by Clemensia you shoot her a pleading glance, but she cannot save you, and you both know it.

He knows the place like the back of his hand and leads you to a tucked-away alcove crowned with rose arches. The plush settee is comfortable but small, and you wind up pressed against his side when you sit down. Worse still, it’s like he delights in tormenting you as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you in.

“Did you enjoy doing that?” With a gentle huff, you finally speak your mind, voice hushed. He’s close enough that you feel the warmth of his breath, of his entire body, and yours never forgot how good he could make you feel, aching for him like a traitor. “Did you want to make a fool of me?”

He does nothing to assuage the pained curiosity of your words, tutting as he reaches up to finger one of your earrings. “No need. You and I can both agree you made plenty spectacle of yourself all on your own tonight, darling.”

You hold back from chewing him out, refusing to align his glance to his. It always frustrated him back then and it still does, as he moves his hand to your chin and tilts your face towards his.

“Hard time letting go?”

He knows just how to stoke the fire in you. “Of you? Never.”

“As you say.” He rubs the fabric of your skirt between his fingers. “You seemed all too comfortable letting everyone reach out to pull you around tonight, truly playing the belle of the ball, hm?”

“That’s how the Capitol landscape is and you know it. I was not trying to upstage you.”

He tuts at that. “You think that is why I’m upset?”

You furrow your brow. “What else would it be?”

“Because for all your flitting about tonight…” He lowers his voice, and you lean in instinctively. “You wouldn’t have deigned to give me the time had I not put you on the spot.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your mental game board in disarray. “You’re jealous?”

You’ve learned to not cry over him anymore. Even when it hurts, when the three years down the drain remind themself like a splinter under your nail, you’ve learned better control than that. But this time, you feel the hot prick of tears in your eyes. When one slides down your cheek, he wipes it with his thumb.

Damn it, damn him, damn it all. You swallow.

“After everything, you are jealous? I didn’t even come here with someone else.”

“You came here with Clemensia.”

“Yes, a friend.”

“She was my friend first.”

“Oh, don’t be a child.”

You roll your eyes, slapping his chest. He holds your hand there, and when the first feeling that runs through your heart is a sliver of hope, you know you’re done for.

“I’ve missed you.”

Check mate.

He wins again.

You try to pull away, but he resists, pressing you closer into him. For all that hurt, all the frustration, when you look into his eyes, when your gaze flits down to his lips, you still want to crush his lips with yours, to slot right into his life like you never left, and that thought gnaws at you. You hate yourself for it. And your mask is not that strong…

“You really could have thought about that earlier, Coriolanus. You had every opportunity.”

He seems content with not elaborating on why he froze you out, left you in the dark, and it frustrates you. His only response, in fact, is to act on the heat of the moment, pulling you into a kiss.

It’s greedy and hungry and he bites at your lower lip, causing you to whine. His lips are soft and taste of sugary pastries and finely aged wines and oh, it would be so easy to fall head first into how good it feels, how much you missed this, to climb on his lap right here…

You lick into his mouth, wanting all you can take before you part from him, unable to forget where you are, that there is no privacy in this place, and that you can’t risk everything for him — however badly you want to. When you pull away, you see the mess you’ve made of him, lipstick on the corners of his mouth, and it thrills to know he’s made one of you too.

“Not here,” you say. But it isn’t a no. It’s hardly a stop. It’s a challenge and you desperately want him to rise to it.

He waves over one of his attendants to assist in making you both presentable, leaving you in the seat once he is taken care of. You hold back a protest, ready to settle back into the shadows of his ambition, but then overhear him whispering about “ready the car” and “make sure they have a good time” before he turns back to you. There’s the fire that could burn the whole of the Capitol down if he wanted it. There’s the hunger that could have you willing to offer him of yourself just to sate him. It leaves you speechless. It leaves you burning.

He whisks you away out the back entrance to the waiting car and once seated in the back, partitions pulled up, you spare no time climbing on top of him, arms wrapping around his neck.

He fingers your earrings again, hand trailing down to your necklace. “Our first anniversary, hmm? Do you remember why I had the rose engraved in the gold?”

You aren’t interested in reminiscing anymore, you want the present moment, you want to burn your mouth on his. You kiss him again, rocking against him as you do, relishing in the way he tightly grabs your hips, helps you keep grinding down as he lifts up the skirt higher, skimming the top of your thigh-high stockings.

“Missed you too.” Your breath is hot and ragged against his skin.

You look over his face, bodies still slowly rocking together, and when your semi-glazed eyes meet his, you see nothing but fire, dangerous and warming, everything you have ever wanted from him. In a craze, you find yourself begging.

“Please… make me yours again.” It’s a romantic notion, and it will haunt you come morning, but now you are nothing but a bundle of nerves and want, all ripe for his picking.

“Patience,” he breathes against your neck, his lips on the pearls. “We’re almost there.”

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #corionlanus snow x reader #coriolanus smut #snow x reader #snow x you #the hunger games x reader #tbosas fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games

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its-time-to-write · 1 year

Note

Hi, first off I want to say that I love your writing. It always makes me smile 🙃🙃.

As for my request, I was wondering if you could please write about Jamie soft launching your relationship on Insta and starting to bring it up in the press. You haven’t met the boys and they are trying to figure out who it is based on his comments and Insta posts. (I may have a Pinterest board with soft launch ideas so…use the screen shots on my page as u wish).

If you don’t have time to write this then no worries. Have a nice day!!!!!!!!!

🫲😇🫱

I listened to “Not All Those Who Wander,” by Miss Lana the whole time I wrote this. 10/10 recommend

it’s just wanderlust

“You’re gonna want to hold off on touching me,” you say as you haul your bags into the house. “Kid fuckin’ spit all over me today and I didn’t even have time to change.”

Jamie wrinkles his nose and takes a step back. “Ew. Fucking gross, that. Is that why you were late coming home?”

You nod, shucking your shoes by the stairs. “Uh huh. Had to talk to the parents post-session. Do a little debrief thing. Thing is, they swore their little angel would never do something like that and next time I should just give him what he wants. Only problem,” you continue as you wash your hands in the kitchen sink, “is that my entire job is not giving him what he wants when he’s displaying inappropriate behaviors. I love that kid, I really do, but his parents are complete twats.”

Jamie nods agreeably. “Was it like projectile or spray?”

You grimace. “Both. Kid’s got mean aim, but decided to switch it up to cover more surface area.”

You look over at the table, which is set neatly. “I know dinner’s ready and I’m already late, but I really need a shower. I can feel like three inches of grime on my skin.”

“Don’t worry about it babe,” Jamie says. “Takeaway reheats easy.” He hesitates for a moment. “Did you want to shower alone, or..?”

You laugh. Cheeky fucker.

“Give me three minutes to scrub really well, and then you’re welcome in. You sure you’re good eating late?”

Jamie grins. “Babe, I-”

“Don’t.” You cut him off, finger pointed at him. “Don’t say it. I know where you’re going, and you don’t need to finish that sentence.”

Jamie opens his mouth again but you’re interrupting before he can get his next sentence out. “And if you’re about to make a pun with the word ‘finish,’ I can guarantee it’s nothing you haven’t said before.”

Jamie looks dejected, but his ego obviously isn’t bruised too much because he’s still is on your heels the whole way up the stairs.

—

You’re showered and back downstairs, the both of you eating dinner in pajamas like proper adults, if proper adults decided that they were allowed to sit on the counter in Jamie’s kitchen. You’re not saying much, just swapping stories about each other’s day. It’s never a dull moment between his time at Nelson Road and your time at the behavioral clinic.

“Who do you think sees the grossest shit?” you had asked one time.

“Oh fuck love, it’s gotta be you,” came Jamie’s response.

“You sure? Because you have like, gross men and stuff. Half of them don’t even know how to do their own laundry.”

Jamie had laughed. “I’m fucking sure. Yeah they smell nasty and shit but like, they’re traumatized by some of the shit you have to deal with.”

He’s got a point.

Neither of you have a whole bunch to say though, and anyway it’s nice to be in a house that’s quiet.

Jamie’s the one to break the silence. “What if we started telling people about us?”

You give him a look so he hurries on. “I know you said you weren’t ready, especially with all the press and everything, but what if we just like soft-launched it? Y’know, take a couple photos without seeing your face.”

You chew your dinner thoughtfully. Is this a good time to start carefully introducing your relationship to the world? You’re indispensable to your company, although they may decide to place a higher value on their anonymity than what you bring to the table. It’s not easy providing behavioral therapy to clients who prefer their children to remain unknown. But at the same time, you can’t keep quiet forever. It’s not fair to Jamie. It’s like you’re saying this is only temporary. I’m keeping it a secret because it won’t last so it’s not worth sharing. It’s not true. Jamie is worth sharing, and you have the tiniest spark of hope that this thing you’ve kept going for the past six months is going to last.

Well, maybe not so much a spark of hope as a sneaking suspicion. The kind you feel as a kid when your parents swear they didn’t get you want you wanted for Christmas, but you have the vaguest sense that they’re lying. You don’t want to hope, because what if you’re wrong, but then again, there’s a part of you that can just feel it.

You’ve been silent for far too long because Jamie says, “Babe? If you don’t want to, it’s ok,” except you can see in his face it isn’t entirely ok.

“I was just thinking,” you reply. “I think- I think I’m good with it. You know, letting people know you’re off the market. Plus it’ll be fun to take more pictures together, My mum keeps bugging me for more.”

Jamie grins. “Mint. The lads are gonna be so fucking psyched.”

—

Ah yes. The lads. Or as they’re better known, the AFC Richmond team. It hasn’t been easy sneaking around them, especially because Ted seemed to Know. Jamie came home one day all spooked because he swore Ted knew he was dating someone.

“Stared straight into me soul, he did,” he said. “Fuckin’ told me he’s surprised I haven’t found a girl yet.”

“That doesn’t sound suspicious, Jaim,” you reply, to which Jamie shakes his head vehemently.

“You weren’t there, that’s what he said, but he meant somethin’ else. He fucking knows.”

You’d laughed and told him it was fine, even if Ted did know, you didn’t mind.

After that encounter, there had been vague rumblings that maybe Jamie did have a girl somewhere, or possibly several girls at one time, which prompted a very serious conversation with Isaac and Sam.

“Jamie, you have said that you have changed. You are acting like a better teammate. And yet, dating more than one girl at a time is just wrong,” Sam told him.

“That shit’s sleazy, bruv,” Isaac said. “You can’t be playing around like that.”

So they had gotten Jamie to admit that no, there weren’t multiple girls, just one girl who he had met at a café of all places because he was cheating on his meal plan and she was trying to finish some assessments for work.

You wanted privacy and of course you knew exactly who he was the moment he walked up to your table and said, “hey,” so yeah, it was never going to be easy.

But the way you had wavered ever so slightly when he asked you to dinner was enough to make him realize that this was going to be something different. Something real. Because if the allure of dating national football star Jamie Tartt wasn’t enough for an automatic yes, you must be looking for something deeper.

Jamie wasn’t sure he was looking for that, but hell he’d give it a go if it meant he got to kiss those soft lips even one time.

So fuck him, he’d fallen for a pretty face in a café on a fucking Sunday and now he has to go home and tell you that people know you exist. That a little bit of your privacy bubble has burst.

You didn’t really care though. You’d been pondering the ethics of a secret relationship for a good long while, so maybe it was good that his teammates knew you existed.

That was a month before Jamie broached the subject of the soft-launch, so you think maybe you can ease into this. It’ll be fine.

—

The first picture is relatively easy. Just a regular mirror pic, cropped of course, with Jamie’s arms wrapped around you from behind. It’s easy to tell it’s him because his tattoo sleeve is in full view. The caption reads, “soft launch,” with a heart emoji.

The like count is through the roof.

You like it too, because what notice will your account garner in a sea of Jamie Tartt fans?

The Greyhounds lose their minds a little bit, commenting fire emojis and heart eyes and trying to figure out who could possibly be there with Jamie. He comes home after training that day to tell you that there’s a rather convincing conspiracy that he’s dating this famous model they’re all obsessed with.

You’re flattered they think you look like her. Even if they can only see your arms and torso.

“This is gonna be fun, babe,” you say, standing on tiptoes for a kiss. Jamie grins. Anything to torture his team.

—

The second picture is posted two days later, with the caption, “date night.”

You’re sitting at his dining room table, candles and wine glasses strewn about, and Jamie’s kissing you at an angle where you can really only see your hair.

For fun, you comment, “omg, I wish that were me.” Richard Montlaur responds to it, “omg same,” so you show Jamie. He rolls his eyes.

“Lad thinks he’s funny, don’t he?” he asks.

You grin. “You’d never leave me for Richard, would you?”

Jamie shrugs. “Dunno babe, he is kind of fit.”

You smack his arm playfully and say, “Fuck off, I’m better looking.”

—

You’re almost caught before the big reveal. You’re on a coffee date in a small town, miles from Richmond or Manchester or anywhere Jamie could be easily recognized. It’s a sleepy town, mostly old people, which is why you both decided it’d be safe.

You’re sitting at a table with your coffee while Jamie’s up to grab his, when you see someone go up to him and tap his shoulder.

“Jamie? What are you doing here?” Sam asks.

Jamie jumps a little and places to where you’re sitting before he can stop himself.

“Oh, um, just getting coffee. You know.”

Sam gives him a quizzical look. “Do you know someone here? This isn’t close to home at all. Are you meeting someone?”

Sam glances around the room and Jamie’s grateful that his gaze does not linger extra long on you.

Jamie decides the best way to answer is to deflect. “Oi, what’re you doing here? It’s not like this place is fucking famous or some shit.”

Sam shrugs. “I like to try a different coffee shop every weekend. Sometimes I bring Dani, but after last time, I think I’ll have to find someone else.”

Jamie risks a glance at you. You’re hiding behind your latte, suppressing a grin. He’s positive you can hear every word they’re saying.

Sam’s voice breaks through his thoughts. “Would you like to sit with me? It looks like there’s only one table left. Unless your mystery girlfriend is here.”

He laughs and Jamie joins in, just a little too loudly, but he can’t think of an excuse to join you at the table so he follows Sam and tries to send you a subtle I’m sorry with his eyes.

You pull out your phone and send him two laughing emojis, then reach into your bag for your book. Might as well get some reading done.

You let Jamie sit for a good half hour before you decide to do something. You put your things back into your bag and walk over to where they’re sitting.

“Hi, um, I’m sorry to bother you, but are you Sam Obisanya? I’m a huge Richmond fan.”

Sam grins at being recognized, while Jamie lets out a small, “Oi!”

“Oh yes, wonderful to meet a fan! I’m just here with my friend.”

You smile and say, “I just wanted to let you know that you played so well last game. I think you’re the best player on the whole team.”

Jamie snorts and Sam says, “Would you like to take a picture? My friend here would be happy to take it for you.”

Score. “That would be awesome!” you reply. “Then I’ll get out of your way. Don’t want to interrupt your coffee.”

—

“Can’t believe you just did that,” Jamie says, shaking his head mournfully another half hour later. “Fucking acting like you didn’t know who I was. Any self-respecting Richmond fan knows who I am.”

You knock into his shoulder lightly as you walk to the car. “Lucky for your ego, I was just acting. And anyway, I’m hilarious. That’s like, my number one quality.”

“Number two,” Jamie interjects, “It’s your number two quality.”

You ask, “Number two? What’s number one??”

Jamie zips his lips. “I ain’t tellin’, babe. Not good for your ego.”

You giggle as he grabs your waist so he can press a kiss to your neck.

—

Posts three and four go off without a hitch. There’s one of his hand on your knee and a timer picture of you twirling under a streetlamp. You both decide that as far as social media goes, this is as much as they’re going to get. But as far as AFC Richmond goes…

“Babe, you left your phone in the car,” you say as you stroll into the locker room casually as ever.

Jamie takes it from your hand and kisses you before he says, “Thanks babe.”

The locker room is silent, frozen. Colin’s body spray slips from his hand and clatters to the floor, and Beard’s just standing and pointing with his mouth open.

Roy breaks the silence as he growls, “What the fuck?”

“Oh my god,” Sam follows. “You’re the girl from the coffee shop.”

You grin and say, “Guilty.”

Jamie wraps his arm around your waist. “Lads, this is my girl. Babe, these are the lads.”

There’s silence for a moment longer before the room explodes into a flurry of questions. Neither you nor Jamie can get a word in until Beard yells, “QUIET! Don’t be fuckin’ weird!”

They all mumble, “Sorry coach,” while Jamie whispers, “You can go if you want. I know you’ve got work and shit. I’ll handle them.”

You squeeze his arm gratefully and slip out the door. You know he’ll take care of things.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #ted lasso #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x you

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whateverisbeautiful · 12 days

Text

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#51: The Mr. & Mrs. Grimes (1.05)

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

The utter perfection of this scene continues as Rick's beautiful words are met with a beautiful response from Mrs. Grimes. 🥲

I adore that after both staying so loyally in love with each other, Michonne and Rick get to now look into each other's eyes and express that all these years, it was always only you 🥹...

One of the many reasons that Richonne resonates with me so much is because this TWD world could easily have been strictly bleak, dark, and dreary, and yet Richonne’s love bursts in with this bright light that refuses to dim no matter the state of their broken world.

Richonne is this inspiring reminder that love prevails even in the hardest circumstances. And Richonne's enduring love shines so brightly in this proposal scene.

So yeah, the happy dancing will never be out of my system over every second of this moment. 😇💍 Because one thing that always comes with the territory of being a Richonne fan...

As Rick holds up a ring while on one knee looking up at the love of his life, Michonne has such a precious heartfelt reaction to this. 🥰

I paused it for a sec and my extra self literally just had to stop and marvel for a moment that I’m really looking at a scene of Michonne smiling down at Rick as he holds up a ring. 🫠

After years of saying one of my biggest wants was for Richonne to exchange rings (because I really felt it was something those two characters would do), it just feels so rewarding to see that we finally made it here. When I tell you I was elated for them like it was my close family member getting proposed to lol. This joyous scene makes me so happy.

gif cred: @nat111love

Michonne smiles at Rick, again with so much love in her expression. You can just see that she’s so happy to have her Rick back. All those years without him and now here he is alive, at his finest, and wanting to show her that he’s with her for the rest of his life. 😊

Michonne says, “I could have never imagined this.” And then she smiles and so sweetly says, “But it could only ever have been you.” Once again, PERFECTION. 🙌🏽🥲

gif cred: @nat111love

I'm loving the use of ‘only’ in this scene. Michonne and Rick both know they are the only one for each other. And it’s just so beyond heartwarming to hear Michonne know Rick is it for her. The only man she’d ever want to be her husband.

Pre-ZA, Michonne might have never been able to imagine that her soulmate would take form in Rick Grimes. Even when their paths first joined in season 3 she might have never expected that this man who constantly eyes her down would be the man she calls husband and the father of her children one day. But now there’s no denying that in any world Rick is the one for her. The ultimate soulmates. 🥰

gif cred: @nat111love

And Michonne has known this for so long. She's long been aware that she only ever wanted it to be Rick for her. I think about that beautiful 7.08 scene between Richonne in the cell where Michonne pours her heart out to Rick. There, she let him know he was the only one that she wanted by her side to take on everything in life with. And it's stayed that way for her all these years later. 🥲

I like to think that when Michonne expresses that it could only ever have been Rick who has her heart, she thinks back on their journey and reflects on the way Rick took her in at the prison instead of just taking the formula.

The way he entrusted her with his son time and time again, even very early in their relationship. The way she and Rick bonded over having similarities that most others wouldn’t understand.

The way she saw over and over that Rick will do anything for his family.

And that Rick will do anything for her.

The way Rick is a fighter who never gives up and also a lover who never holds back.

The way he resiliently overcame the battles in his life, both external and internal. The way he genuinely saw and valued both Michonne's heroism and her humanness. And as she’s said before - the way Rick makes her feel loved, respected, and safe like no other.

It could only ever have been this excellent one-of-a-kind man for her. Another scientific fact. 💯

So then, y'all, you already know what's next - Michonne does the most heartfelt thing ever. She smiles, takes Rick's hand, and then gets down on her knees so that they are on the same level. 😭

Then she puts Rick's hand to her heart and so sincerely tells him, “I’m Yours.” 🥹

gif cred: @nat111love

And go ahead and take me out to pasture because my heart has officially ascended from this solid gold scene. 🫠 I love it so much. 😭😭😭

I don't know whether to burst into tears or to happy dance right now, so imma just do both...

First; just the visual of the two on their knees is so perfectly symbolic to Richonne and the way they are equals in every way. They always meet each other where they’re at and match each other's love, energy, and fidelity.

I love that the moment with Rick on his knees gets its time to breathe and just depict the way he reveres her, and then Michonne gets to also show how much she loves and respects him when she joins him on her knees and lets Rick know that just like he’s hers, she’s his.

I adore the reciprocity of Richonne's love and loyalty. They’re so wholly devoted themselves and they finally get to experience someone being wholly devoted back.

And on top of elating me to no end, hearing them both say, “I’m Yours” also just affirmed to me why I think Richonne is such an excellent portrayal of a healthy couple. Because I think a lot of couples tend to have more of a “You’re mine” mentality that can be a bit more possessive and concerned with the other belonging to them.

But Rick and Michonne both put so much more emphasis on an “I’m Yours” mentality, actively being loyal, thoughtful, and dedicated to each other. They don't demand ‘You belong to me’ but rather happily demonstrate ‘I belong to you’ with every loving action and word they express. And that manifests as this equal outpouring of the deepest love. 👌🏽

gif cred: @perryabbott

And my favorite part about Rick and Michonne telling each other ‘I’m yours’ is how much they have already truly lived out those words.

Like this isn’t just flowery talk. Both when they were together in TWD and then when they were apart for over eight years, they genuinely lived out every day of their life like they were fully each others.

I remember that was one of the things I most noted about Michonne in the post-Rick era of TWD, she was still so actively in love with Rick. Like truly no other man could have come along because her love for Rick was still so alive.

I mean even when Ezekiel kissed her, all she wanted to do after was tearfully reminisce on the man she was still in love with and recount the exact amount of years it'd been since Rick last kissed her.

gif cred: @michonnegrimes

Michonne knew Rick Grimes still had her heart and even with all the years that passed and having every reason to think she’d never see him again, she lived life like she was still his.

So when Michonne tells Rick 'I’m yours,' she’s already lived that out and proven it ten times over.

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

And when taken, Rick fought as hard as he could and put his mind and body through the unimaginable to get back to her and he never once moved on from Michonne, even when he chose to die.

He routinely dreamt of falling in love with her, continuously poured his heart out to her in letters, and commissioned several drawings of her. Then when he decided to 'die' because he refused to live without her, the dead version of him still made every choice out of his everlasting love for Michonne.

So when Rick tells Michonne Grimes, 'Til my last breath, I'm yours,' he’s already more than proven it in every way too.

They now know what it is to be without the other for an extended period and they still conducted themselves like 'I am 100% yours always.' 🥹 The greatest love.

Also, I love that this proposal moment takes place in the middle of the woods. So much of Richonne’s roots were established in settings like this. They’ve had a lot of notable woods moments, especially when traveling with Carl, and so this just feels like them taking it back to where it all started for this milestone moment.

One of the woods moments that comes to mind for me right now is in season 3 when Michonne is aiming her sword at Merle and Rick is constantly staring her down and keeping his attention almost solely on her despite so much commotion going on from everyone.

Imo, Rick stares at Michonne a little too much and a little too long for it to just be written off as casual or merely trying to diffuse the situation.

(Side note: I love that Danai and Andy said this is one of the earliest moments that they knew they had a special chemistry as actors. They really did make a scene surrounded by other characters feel like it was just the two of them. ☺️)

To me, it seriously feels like each time Rick looks at Michonne in this scene (and in many season 3 scenes really) he feels something he’s ‘not supposed to’ feel and sees something he wasn’t expecting to see - because, without being cognizant of it yet, he sees his future. He sees himself. He sees someone his heart wants and desires in this intriguing, intoxicating, and soul-filling way.

And so it’s almost like in those early days Rick kept staring at this captivating woman partly confused because he’s supposed to just look at her and see a suspicious stranger, but instead somewhere deep within him what he really sees is his other half, someone he’s meant for and whose meant for him, someone capable of getting him to get down on one knee in the woods and profess his undying love for one day. 🥲

Like he's trying to look intimidating in this s3 scene with Michonne but then Rick always has this shift in his expression like he’s more genuinely dazed from the fact that looking at Michonne for some reason is like looking in a mirror. Looking at her, little did he know he was seeing his universe all in one person.🥹

And as for Michonne, I adore that she has known for so long that she's with Rick no matter what. From "I'm still with you" pre-canon to "I'm yours" post-canon. It's always him for her. 🥹

Also, I just have to note the way Rick looks at her when Michonne makes her way down to her knees is always so swoon-worthy to me. 😊 It's been such a great journey watching Richonne's stares soften over each season to the point that now they look into each other's eyes so utterly in love.

gif cred: @nat111love

So after Michonne says she's his, they share another ten out of ten kiss and it’s just the perfect way to close out the scene. 👏🏽😭

I love how Michonne is smiling through the first kiss, and the way Rick's holding her, and the fact that of course the passion only continues to ramp up between them as they wrap their arms around each other.

gif cred: @nat111love

I think about how in TOWL ep 3, Rick and Michonne were on their knees in CRM uniforms kissing in the woods but not yet on the same page.

And now they’re back to their more usual attire and on their knees kissing but fully in sync again and ready to both handle the CRM and go home. Mr. & Mrs. Grimes are 100% back. 😌

gif cred: @nat111love

And I love how it's the masterpiece Episode 4 that got Richonne from point A in ep 3, on their knees in the woods unsure of how to escape with much to reconcile, to point B in ep 5, on their knees in the woods, reaffirming 'I’m yours,' and fully on one accord again.

So then, after this solid gold scene, they cut to Father Gabriel waiting on a log but Jadis isn’t going to be showing up this time around. What Father G doesn't know is Jadis was attempting to threaten Richonne and ASZ and so after just a day of aiming to kill them, Rick and Michonne had to go ahead and send her to the underworld same-day delivery. 📦👌🏽

But Rick and Michonne also have very good hearts and so it seems they left a burial site for her, marked with an 'A' stone.

That 'A' has some layers to it because one; it’s like Rick and Michonne are allowing her to die as Anne the Artist rather than Jadis the Snake, with Anne seeming to have been her better and more human persona.

And two; seeing the 'A' to me always feels reminiscent of how Jadis would spray paint As on the holding containers in the trash heap. It was very kind of Richonne to give her a burial and to put an ‘A’ for Anne instead of an “S” for Snake/Serpent/Scam Artist.

gif cred: @perryabbott

A helicopter flies above the burial site and, even tho we don't get to see Richonne inside, I love we get to at least know that Michonne got to see her man fly a helicopter.

If Michonne and I are really on the same wavelength like I think we are, I know she thought Rick piloting the helicopter was sexy. 😊 Probably sitting in that helicopter and watching him like...

And as their helicopter flies off into the sky, that concludes episode 5, with Richonne and us now soaring into the TOWL finale. 👌🏽

Honestly, on rewatch I do like episode 5 better than I thought. It’s still not as high as 1-4 but the Richonne content is just so great in this ep that I still very much enjoy it. 😌 And that's how you know your ship is an abundance of riches when even the lower-rated ep still has some solid gold scenes and a top 10 all-time scene. 👑

gif cred: @lousolversons

Before I even wrote a single word of this breakdown, I knew this specific scene's revelings would be a long two-parter - because I mean, for longtime Richonne fans this proposal scene is just better than a dream. So I had to do my best to go as all out as I could when gushing over every detail. 😋

I adore that after years of Rick dreaming of having this proposal with Michonne, the two of them finally got to share this moment. And it was as beautiful as can be.

gif cred: @nerd4music

Rick and Michonne both are just so aware that they’ve found a true treasure in finding each other, and I love that this scene so perfectly captured their stunning love and their commitment to belong to each other forever and always.

It was a joy to see Richonne so clearly establish that they are Mr. and Mrs. Grimes, until the end of time. 🥳💍🙌🏽🎉🥂🎊

#richonne #towl #reveling in richonne #1.05 #RIR (51)#the ones who live #twd towl #michonne grimes #rick grimes #rick x michonne #twol #michonne #rick and michonne #twd: the ones who live #twd #richonnefandom

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