#but that is not my choice to make i guess

[ribbonprincess]

I’d like to put in an ask. Rafe and his kook!girlfriend in Italy 💕🩷 or on some sort of vacation. Maybe a little bit of what you would think it would be like to travel with him or sightsee. Smut if you’re comfy with that! Happy Friday 🎀 

note:well...now you know your Italian girl can't say no to that. Also,so honored to see you in my inbox!!

🍦࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

"I'm telling you!They have the best ice cream ever,there's nothing like it" You're laying on Rafe's chest as you both chill on your family yacht during a hot summer day,talking his ear off about a ice cream shop you used to go to as a kid that has the best flavours and creaminess when it comes to the cold treat. "We'll go there after dinner maybe,sounds good?"

You nod at his words,tracing random shapes on his sculpted chest "you look so good in this bikini" his hand trails over the smooth skin of your stomach and between your breasts,stopping at the gold "R" that sits around your neck "thank you...I bought specifically for this" The chuckle that comes from Rafe's mouth is almost immediate "yeah well good choice,sweet girl" his lips hover yours for a couple of seconds before he pulls you in for a kiss. "you smell so good,doll" His left moves under your side,untying your bikini at best of his ability while blind and one handed,his other hand tangles itself in your hair pulling you impossibly closer.

"rafey..." You're whining as he pulls you into his lap, immediately tugging one of your nipples into his mouth "fuck-" your boyfriend makes sure to pay equal attention to both buds before his mouth trails lower,pressing a trail of wet open kisses down to your bellybutton until he tugs at the bottom of your bikini. "take this off, princess- c'mon" You quickly remove the white piece of fabric,throwing to your side as Rafe's hands tug at your thighs,moving you over his mouth "be a good girl and sit down." You're slightly hesitant until his tongue licks a stripe from you hole up to your clit "fuck"

Your body falls over his involuntarily,making you shiver as his tongue quickly moves over your aching hole. His tongue circle the area teasingly before he pushes it in,making you clench around it "jeez- Rafe..." your hands find their way into his hair,tangling into the blonde curls as you shakily grind onto his face.

One of his hands blindly moves upward,squeezing at one of your breasts before trailing upwards,two of his fingers nestle into your mouth,pressing down on your tongue as you cover them in saliva making sure they're covered in it just like Rafe likes. He remove the digits out of your mouth moving them over your clit,rubbing slow circles over it.

"c'mon,baby. Not using my fingers today,come on my tongue" You don't know what it is,maybe his words or the way his voice is raspier than usual,maybe the hot sun on your back,maybe his tongue or the slow but firm circles on your clit; but you find yourself getting closer to your orgasm way quicker than usual. "Can feel you clenching,baby- no need to be shy, cum on my tongue" Your hips are grinding into his face,his nose his bumping deliciously against your clit and your mouth is hanging open "fuck,I'm cumming!" Your boyfriend's tongue laps at the sweet juice that's coming out of you,making sure to help you ride out your orgasm as you shake over his face "there's my good girl... Did so good,love. Guess you deserve ice cream now"

[sixosix]

HE BUILT A FIRE JUST TO KEEP ME WARM | LYNEY

notes wc 2.5k, a LOT of talking. but i hope you can enjoy:)) because im so nervous to post this

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“So that’s your decision. Alright.”

…That’s it?

The confusion on your face must have shown. Arlecchino casts a glance and smiles in her own way, only a ghost of it.

The ease of her answer feels like walls cracking, chipping slowly one by one, then collapsing altogether. It’s such a surreal, nearly maddening feeling. The glaring reminder that it has always been your choice dawns on you. So that’s it.

“I don’t want to chain you to the throne.” How embarrassing it is to realize that you were the one chaining yourself in, locking it in place, and suffering from the weight of it this entire time.

‘Father’ accepts it; it’s about time you did, too.

“Alright,” you echo numbly, lagging from disbelief.

As it turns out, the teacup in Rosalie’s hands had been the poison ‘Father’ was offering. She wanted to show Rosalie what it looked like, but Rosalie’s answer was pretty clear when she flung it away the moment you entered the room.

‘Father’ offers the cup meant for you, and you inspect it nervously. The glass feels fragile and smooth to the touch. The fate of your future, your memories, the people you’ve met that have led you all the way here, your entire being—

All in one cup.

You already gave your answer. It took a good minute, but still, it was the quickest choice you’ve made yet. The ‘tea’ seemed tempting for a split second: an easy way out, a free restart button. You know better now, though. Arlecchino’s showing you mercy, and Rosalie’s giving you a choice.

You look up at Arlecchino, uncertainty in your nerves. “But I can’t go back here?”

Arlecchino tilts her head. “You mean to return here as a child of the House?” She chuckles shortly. “Of course not.”

Oh. Ah, well. That is to be expected.

“Why would you be? You’re not an orphan anymore, are you not?” Arlecchino’s gaze swings pointedly at Rosalie’s direction, who is talking animatedly to Freminet. Freminet blushes as Rosalie coos and frets over him like she does to you.

You find yourself smiling fondly, then promptly realize that this is what Arlecchino means. You have a new home now, with Rosalie.

“So I guess this is really my goodbye to the House?” you mutter, feeling limp suddenly.

Arlecchino gently places her clawed hand on your head. You stiffen for a tense moment but eventually relax into it, realizing that this could be the last time she would even see you as her child, even when you weren’t a long time ago.

“It’s been your goodbye when you left,” she reminds you coolly.

Your shoulders slump in defeat.

“But I’m sure the children still see you as family, and you would be our most important guest of all,” Arlecchino says, looking ahead. “Don’t underestimate their love for you, even if you’ve already forgotten them.”

“I don’t think I could ever forget my first home even if I tried,” you laugh, a little bittersweet thing.

“Then still feel welcomed here, on behalf of their feelings.”

Her voice isn’t gentle, nor does she assume to be part of the House that would want you back—she still wears that cold detachment in her words, but you know her. You know this is the closest she can give you. You want to hug her, pull her in, and bury your face in like a child, but again, you know her. Arlecchino doesn’t like things like that—so you’ll settle for sniffling and pretending like you aren’t crying.

“Thank you for everything, ‘Father’,” you whisper, voice quivering.

She doesn’t say anything in return, but her gaze is more open. It’s enough of an answer for you.

“Come,” Arlecchino calls out, her voice ringing clearly and making everyone halt to listen. “Let us meet up with Tartaglia; it’s about time he arrived.”

The warmth of her hand slips off as she walks out. You would’ve chased after it, but Rosalie comes dashing over and squishing your cheeks until your lips are puckered. Freminet spares you a secretive smile before he runs after Arlecchino and your vision is swallowed by Rosalie’s worried face.

“Ma chérie,” she coos. “You’re really sure about your decision? I promise I won’t get mad if you stay with Miss Arlecchino!”

“Maman, you’re my home now,” you say. “I’m already grateful that you still choose to keep me. I know it’ll be difficult to adjust—”

“Nonsense.” Rosalie releases your cheek, only to pinch one gently. Her face is stern, daring you to finish. “I’ve raised you as my own long enough; what’s years more? But this time, you share with me, okay? Whatever danger lies ahead of you, I want to be a part of.”

The waterworks continue. “O-Okay.”

You’re positively drained, tired, and fatigued when the long hand strikes 10 in the evening. You yawn, then lay flat on the grass, the blades of green tickling, but that’s the least of your worries. Paimon flutters around unsurely before eventually settling on Aether’s side. Aether smiles stiffly, all tense and awkward, as he pats your arm in comfort but doesn’t even touch you.

You eye his gloved hand. “Do you think I’m going to bite you or something?”

“I— I don’t know!” Aether says, sounding genuinely distressed.

“I already apologized.”

Aether grimaces. “That’s the thing. I don’t feel like I deserve it. If anything, I should be begging for forgiveness for even blackmailing you.”

You shrug. “You can’t blackmail me anymore. Maman already knows.”

“Still…”

“Aether,” you give him a helpless smile that has him blinking dumbly in awe. “I’m the one who gained everything here. I couldn’t even give you anything even when I was supposed to help you.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Aether murmurs in embarrassment. “You led me to The Knave. We have a meeting tomorrow about my sister—fingers crossed she knows something.”

“I hope the best for you,” you say lightheartedly.

Aether smiles weakly, a little unsettled by this sudden act of kindness. “So what’s your plan from now on?”

“In the eyes of the public, The Knave transferred me out of her care and assigned me to Master Childe. In reality, I don’t have to leave anything behind by staying with the Fatui. Master Childe will be training me personally, and I can be of aid to the House whenever they need it—I just wouldn’t be one of the orphans anymore.”

Aether hums thoughtfully. “So you’re going to leave Fontaine?”

“Only for a bit. I’m taking maman with me, but I would still get homesick, so I’d convince Master Childe to drop by now and then.”

Aether laughs softly. “I guess we’ll be seeing each other occasionally.”

You stare at him momentarily, wondering what would’ve happened to you if you never met him. “If anything, I should thank you, Aether. Your friendship with Master Childe made me an easy ally for him. I don’t know where I would’ve gone if it weren’t for him volunteering.”

Aether waves dismissively. “It’s nothing. I’m sure Childe’s excited to spar with you. I really did nothing.”

You hug him.

Aether is frozen for about two minutes before Paimon nudges him, and he reboots back into life by throwing his arms around you and squeezing you into a hug. It holds the same warmth as Arlecchino’s sweet gesture, so you stay like that for a little while. You gesture for Paimon to join in, and she beams and envelops your heads with her tiny arms.

At least until Aether drops his arms and suddenly looks anxious. “Okay, we should stop before Lyney hears about this again.”

Your heart jumps out of your throat at the mention of that name.

Right… You need to talk to him next.

Aether seems to know what’s going on in your head and grins. “Good luck.”

It’s the next day. You haven’t heard of Lyney nor Lynette since Rosalie’s kidnapping, and you realize belatedly that they’re giving you space. Or perhaps just straight-up avoiding you. You don’t know which is easier.

With the help of Aether, you stand face to face with the house they moved into once they were adults. It’s small and blended in with all the rest, but the cat blinking up at you slowly in a hat was surely a rarity.

“Hello, kitty,” you say.

The cat responds with a slow, measured blink.

It’s the cat from the party Lyney invited you, but that has led to a series of unfortunate, humiliating events that you’d rather forget, so to you, the cat has done nothing.

“May I come in?” you ask politely as if expecting a proper, eloquent response.

The cat meows and then starts scratching on their door. The worn marks on the bottom of the door imply that this isn't the cat's first time either. One, two, three— Then you’re faced with Lynette, who has that expression on her face that seems to say she had been expecting you, but you were a little late.

“Y/N,” she says as the cat saunters inside.

“Hey, Lynette,” you say, playing with your fingers. “Sorry about… lashing out yesterday.”

Lynette tilts her head. “I was never upset about that. I was simply worried about you—you’re family to me, too.”

Your chest aches. “Lynette…”

She steps aside, gesturing vaguely. “Come inside. Lyney is probably fixing himself up in his room; we’ll give him three minutes.”

“He has a show?”

“No. He’s meeting you,” Lynette says, then doesn’t clarify. She walks in calm strides toward the kitchen. “Want some tea?”

“Um, yes, please.”

Their home looks well-worn in a loved way, with trinkets sprinkled everywhere. There are different models of Lyney’s hats displayed on a shelf, which you find endearing. You ask Lynette about the cat, which she tells you goes by the name Rosseland, an assistant to their shows and their beloved pet, and the cause for the mountain of hats in their home.

It’s a little terrifying how easily she indulges you in conversation, just as with Arlecchino. She resembles ‘Father’ in that way. You feel like you aren’t deserving of their mercy. Lynette should be angry at you; you hurt them by being selfish. Instead, Lynette pours you tea and smiles.

“You seem uneasy,” Lynette observes, sipping.

“Well, I think you know the reason why.”

Lynette shakes her head. “There’s no reason to be. If you think I forgave easily, Lyney has forgiven you long ago.”

“That’s awful.”

Lynette smiles. “I think it’s special. We’re twins, Lyney and I, but I think if I were in his body for even a day, I wouldn’t be able to recreate what you two have. He treasures you deeply, more than you know.”

Speechless, your mouth hangs open. “That’s…”

A door bursts open, and a disheveled Lyney emerges, looking around in confusion until his gaze finally settles on you. He breathes out. You straighten up under the full intensity of his undivided attention, just like it had always been.

“Seven minutes,” Lynette says impatiently.

Lyney flushes, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

Lynette sighs, then turns to you. “Go on. Go to him.”

What! Why do you have to be the one to move? You want to voice your complaints, but Lyney is already moving aside to give you space through his doorway.

You cast a fearful look at Lynette, but she avoids your gaze as if expecting it. Betrayed, you shuffle through the living room and brush past Lyney, into his room. It’s messier than the rest of their house, with makeup, clothes, and props. But you find it endearing—it’s Lyney’s room and reflects him.

“Sorry,” Lyney says. Before you could interrupt, he clarifies: “I couldn’t clean this all up properly before you came over.”

But you had time to fix yourself up? You want to ask in amusement, but you settle for shaking your head instead. You’ve visited to apologize, not bully him more.

“I’m sorry, too,” you say. “For the way I treated you yesterday—no, the entire time we were together, I mean.”

Lynney coughs, turning redder. “I know you are. And you know that I forgive you.”

Just like Lynette had said. “You shouldn’t.”

“It’s my feelings, you know.”

At the mention of feelings, you suddenly recall a few words he said in the heat of the moment and suddenly find yourself flustered, squirming on the bed. As if hearing what you’re thinking, Lyney flinches and stumbles back, his face layers and layers of red.

“I still mean it, though,” Lyney stammers out.

“Mean what?”

“My… confession,” he trails off lamely, blushing like a maiden.

You blink in surprise. “I thought you were just saying that to make me stay?”

At the moment in the flower shop, you had a feeling you knew what he was going to say as if you were reading it from a book, and the sequence would go as follows: Your heart was not the first for Lyney to steal. But there was Rosalie, there was ‘Father’, there was the throne, and believing that Lyney was just using whatever he could to get what he wanted again seemed better.

“What?” Lyney’s face falls, horrified. “No, no, of course not! You asked me why I would go to… lengths for you, and I answered honestly.”

“Oh.”

Lyney frowns. “Y/N, I knew I couldn’t make you stay, but I still wanted to say it.”

You find yourself struggling to keep contact with his eyes all of a sudden. “So you meant it? You actually really like me?”

“Yes,” Lyney says, so painfully sure of himself that your face bursts into flames.

You can’t handle the sight of his eagerness laid bare just for you—vulnerable, open, and unapologetically honest. 

“I’m not easy to love, you know.”

“A little bit late for the warning.” Lyney smiles sadly. “I love you anyway.”

“Even when I’m like this?”

Lyney tilts his head. “This is just one of the many reasons I’m helplessly devoted to you. There’s really no use in trying to push me away, you know. We’ll find each other again eventually— Are you crying?”

Lyney stutters and frets over you like Rosalie does when you’ve iced yourself to her plants. It’s a little funny, so you give him a pathetic, wet laugh.

“W-Was it something I said? Was it too soon? I’m sorry. Pretend you didn’t hear anything. Fuck, I’m so bad at this.” Lyney groans, burying his face in his hands and continuing his self-criticism.

“Shut up for a bit, Lyney.”

He shuts up right away.

You draw closer to him, wiping your tears away. His breathing halts and his eyes have been swallowed up, pupils dilated. You pause until you can feel his breath on your face, looking up at him for permission. Lyney nods but seems confused, so you just show him.

‘Father’, Aether, and Rosalie have their own kind of warmth, but kissing Lyney is entirely different. It feels as if he’s burning you from within, from your cheeks down to your toes, in a pleasant shiver.

notes last chapter next:( I AM KIND OF SAD ACTUALLY

taglist moved to comments because Tumblris strange

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Muña (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: At the start of the Dance of the Dragons, you host a familiar face. But it is not your husband who darkens your doorstep. It is his nephew.

Warnings: Daemon haunting the narrative. Smut. Body image issues, self-esteem issues. Tully! Reader (Reddish undertone hair) Implied mommy issues. Vaginal sex. Breeding kink

A/N: I got no explanation for this. Might end up writing a part 2 if this does well.

“THERE IS a dragon at our gates.” One of your guards announces. You get up from your seat, a wave of nausea already beginning to make herself known. You would rather not face your husband. Not today. Not ever, if you are being truthful with yourself.

You have gained weight. The slim figure that you flaunted at sixteen is long gone. There is more weight in your hips and chest, a bit of softness around your middle. You know he will mock you for it.

“Open them.” You order, bracing yourself for the uncomfortable encounter. You can’t bar him entrance to what is his home too, despite him not visiting in years. “Tell him to leave the dragon there. I’ll send it some food.”

The guard bows and exits the room. One of your companions, Lady Whent, starts to pace the hall. She fears what your husband coming here might mean for you. The rumors said he had loudly proclaimed he would deal with you himself.

Your choice to keep the Riverlands out of the war effort is controversial, but predictable. Surely, no one in their right mind thought you would aid your husband install his Queen. Not even him. Not after he had left your shared home and started living in sin with her, shaming you in front of the whole realm. Yet again, no one would have called Daemon Targaryen the epitome of saneness.

You go sit on your throne, placing your embroidery aside. Your tenants are happy enough that you don’t hold court as often as the other lords. And when they are not, they still refuse to bring their problems to you unless absolutely necessary. No one wants to burden their poor lady more.

You wish they did. The days would seem less empty that way, rotting away in this castle, your house’s sigil mocking you from every corner. Family, Duty, Honor, they had promised you. None had come.

The guard comes back. You remain sitting on your throne, the one you hardly use. You intend to receive your husband from a position of power, not allow him to cower you. But when you look at the man next to the guard, your breath catches.

This man is not your husband. This man is not even one of Rhaenyra’s men.

“Lady Tully.” He says, taking a deep bow. Very respectful, which would make you doubt his relation to your husband were it not for the fact he shares his silver hair.

“Prince… Aemond.” You say, looking at his face. It’s your best guess as to his identity, considering he has a green banner and an eye patch. He wears all black, the color of House Targaryen. You stand up, and curtsy.

“My lady.”

“My husband is not here.” You say, hurriedly. It’s your first instinct. You do not want that dragon of his torching your tenants.“You are welcome to check the castle and my lands, but there is no love lost between us. I assure you I am not hiding him.”

“I know.” He answers, lips twitching into a smirk. You find nothing humorous about it, but you do not dare voice it. You do not understand what he is doing here, if not chasing after Daemon. “I understand your people… Resent him.”

“It is not our place to judge.” You say, voice firm. This man is at least ten years your junior, you will not allow him to intimidate you. No matter how he towers over you, no matter how menacing and mean his features seem. He is no Daemon Targaryen, this green boy. Your husband is the only man you had truly feared. “Only the Seven are perfect, and thus, entitled to judge others' actions.”

“Very devout.” Aemond steps closer to you, his smile widening. The way his face contorts, sharp and with too many teeth, reminds you of one of the piscivorous fishes you have seen swimming up the stream during summer. The look in their eyes is the same he sports now, right before they decide to feast on an unaware trout. “Just like us. Seems like we have a lot in common.”

You gulp. You wish you were less easy to intimidate.

“We do?”

“We do. I don’t like your husband either. The tales of his prowess have been overly exaggerated. And I do not think you are too keen on bowing to Rhaenyra, considering your marriage will be annulled.” A pair of his fingers pluck a stray curl from your up do, twirling it between his fingers. The slightly copperish undertones of it glint under the candlelight.

The threat looms in the air, uncontested by you. Both Prince Aemond and you know that Queen Rhaenyra would be dissolving your marriage as you speak, were it not for the fact that your husband and her need your lands and men for her war. Annulment in exchange for your life would be a much less cruel punishment than whatever they are cooking.

If you were a quieter woman, a less brave one, you would accept your fate. You would say your marriage had been unconsummated, that you will aid your new sovereign and your ex-husband in their war. But you won’t leave your people to their tender care. With the privileged position your lands have, they are also in the privileged position to be amongst the first to burn.

You are not so craven as to save your life in exchange for the ones of your subjects. Hence, neutrality. Hoping it will spare you. All of you.

“Do you think I want to still be married to him? After all this?” It is not enough, you see it now. With the green banner inside your hall, with the one eyed prince himself sent to rally you behind their cause. Neutrality won’t save you. You need to resist Daemon, not just sit praying he won’t attack you. The Seven know he has no such qualms.

“Perhaps we can make a widow out of you yet.” Aemond says to you, a hint of a smile making his expression turn even more menacing.

Tasting freedom on the tip of your tongue for the first time in years, you smile back.

YOU ARE on your side, Aemond thrusting into you from behind. His hand envelops your hip, greedily grasping your flesh. His other arm is under your head, serving as a pillow. For once, you are not self-conscious.

How could you be, when he had practically begged for entrance to your bed? He wanted you, and the thought of that was as thrilling as it was foreign. You hadn't broken your marriage vows ever since you took them. No man had dared voice interest, considering who your husband was.

Aemond had to convince you to get you here, and you had fumbled like a maiden every step of the way. You didn’t dare defy Daemon either. Despite your loneliness over the years, you had never taken another to your bed. No matter how tempted you had been.

When you had seen Aemond, you weren’t planning to, either. He was your good nephew, Daemon’s family. It was utterly scandalous, yet here you were.

You weren’t too sure how you had ended up into this predicament, though. One second the two of you had been making plans, your Lord Commander eager to be at his service, and the next, Aemond was crowding you against a wall and kissing you with unparalleled hunger. Your doubts had been quieted by his warm hands and eager mouth, as he forced you to writhe on his arms and try to divest him of his clothes. Perhaps he had carried you to your room then. You can’t remember, you just hope no one saw you.

“Did he fuck you like this?” He mouths at your ear, lightly biting. No matter how much you want to banish the thought of Daemon from your mind, Aemond doesn’t let you. It makes you feel guilty, breaking your self-imposed celibacy with your nephew in law, but he seems to get a secret thrill from it.

You don’t have the heart to tell him Daemon and you have only gone to bed together once. The night of your wedding.

You stay silent. His hand slides over your stomach, down to your mound. A single, long finger, slips through your folds and starts to rub circles on your pearl.

“Did my uncle ever make you peak?” Aemond asks you, still rubbing those maddening circles. You can’t think. All that is on your mind is a cloud of pleasure, warm and shameful. You shouldn’t be in bed with Daemon’s nephew. Nor should you be breaking your vows.

Aemond bites at your nape, sharply. Just like his uncle, he doesn’t take kindly to not being the center of attention.

“I asked you a question.”

“No.” You tell him, closing your eyes. Your face burns with your shame. Perhaps it is the embarrassment at your husband hating your bed so much he never visited It any longer, or perhaps it is the fact that you are breaking a vow you had really believed in. But Aemond doesn’t seem to like it, pressing soft kisses into your shoulder in an attempt to relax you.

“I'll give you one.” He promises, rubbing your pearl. His thrusting slows down, allowing the head of his member to hit deep inside you. “In my bed, you won't want for anything.”

The way he says it startles you. Dark, possessive. As if he doesn’t intend to let you go after one night, as if he intends to keep you.

“I don't belong in your bed.” You moan, trying to resist the pleasure that seems so sinful in your eyes. You clench around him despite it, not wanting him to leave your body. His free hand, the one serving as your pillow, grabs at your hair, the auburn mane as a bracelet in his pale arm. The pain of the tug only heightens your pleasure, making your body soar above the wave that threatens to crash and drag you under on the pools of hedonism.

Never before had you felt like this. In your encounter with your husband, as he huffed and puffed over you, you had only felt a quick pain and a vague feeling of shame. He had focused on his pleasure first, kicking you out of bed as soon as he was done.

But Aemond. Aemond stares at you, proud of how you unravel in his arms. He encourages you to do it, taking great delight in watching you fall apart.

“You do. With your gorgeous hair and your delicious cunt, I won't allow you to go elsewhere. You are a gift from the Mother herself.” He whispers, darkly. “I’ll worship you how you deserve, Muña.”

The last word seems to amuse him greatly, for it prompts a chuckle out of him. It’s an odd sound to hear coming from him. He seemed the kind who took himself too seriously. He licks at the shell of your ear, at your face, slobbering all over you.

It should disgust you, yet you can’t help but sigh in his arms. Surrender tastes cloyingly sweet in your mouth.

“I… Married.” You repeat, trying to get Aemond to see reason. You claw at his hands, trying to stop him from bringing you this overwhelming ecstasy that makes your body tense, and your thighs quiver. Your mind feels foggy, your wit reduced to half whimpers and softly spoken words.

“I'll wed you, and place my son on your belly.” He grins against your nape, contemplating his final triumph against Daemon. “My seed will take, where his never could. He is weak.”

“I am already married.” You repeat, a bit more firmly. Aemond laughs, rubbing at your pearl once more.

“Shhh, quiet. Quiet, Muña.” He whispers, pulling you to lie under him. He enters you in a single thrust, not giving you a moment of respite. You cry out, nails raking down his back. “I'll kill him. He is just an old man.”

You mutter something. Maybe a reply. Your lips move, incoherent, and you are screaming, the wave of pleasure finally crashing and pulling you under.

“That’s a good aunt. Squeeze your tight little cunt for me.” He grins, and you think this is it. The two of you are going to the Seven Hells.

[bl4cktourmaline]

How about Furina realising she can get together with and marry the person she liked when she was an archon now that's she's human?

(ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ — furina

✿ — ♬ ⌨️ᶻᶻᶻ : x is typing... ✉!

✿ — ↻ SYNOPSIS : Furina realizing she could be together with the person she loved the most.

✿ — ♯ GENRE : Bittersweet

✿ — ⊜ CW : Nil

✿ — ↠ NOTE : Hi hi anon~! Thanks for requesting this :3 I really had fun writing this and I hope you'll have a good time reading this fic too! Remember to hydrate and take care<3 Sorry for this fic taking forever too ! TT

If you'd like to request click 'here' and read the writing rules for each writer !

✿ — ♪ REMINDER : reblogs & likes are appreciated, in doing so will motivate us to continue delivering stories to you, thank you for all of your supports ~ !

✿ — ♭ ⁿᵒʷ ᶜᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ... : ...no one..

✿ — ► ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Furina x reader [Headcanons/Drabbles]

𝅘𝅥𝅯 During the times when Furina was an Archon, she was forced to uphold her arrogant personality like her people wanted and expected out of a god. However when she met [y/n].. It was different.

𝅘𝅥𝅯 [Y/n] was a part of Chioriya Boutique who worked under Chiori to help her produce outfits and fetch materials. It wasn't often they get to see the Hydro Archon, but when they do, [y/n] had always treated her like a normal fontainian and didn't flounder whenever she was near them. Not even caring that she was an Archon.

𝅘𝅥𝅯 This made Furina want to act selfishly and make [y/n] hers. However, due to her circumstances of needing to play her role. She was unable to make the relationship into a romantic one.

𝅘𝅥𝅯 When she found out the prophecy was false and that she could stop pretending as an Archon. She quickly went into hiding, afraid of what you'll think of her being a 'fake' god.

SPLISH SPLASH! SPLISH SPLASH!

[Y/n] was currently near the Opera Epiclese. Although fontaine had just flooded, and you should probably get home before catching a cold. They decided to look for her.

'I wonder where my dear Furina went..'

[Y/n] sigh, knowing she probably went into hiding due to the fear of what they might've thought of her, being a 'fake' god.

[Y/n] checked every place, being the Opera where trials are usually held, to even the place she resided in.

[Y/n] had no choice but to request and acquire help from the ludex to inquire help of where their dear friend could be.

..Only to find out she had moved out, after a week of searching for her in fontaine.

Now [y/n] was standing in front of one of the most ordinary buildings that is in front of the blacksmith. Though [y/n] thought they should probably get curtains for her, they could see her entire home from outside..

Knock Knock Knock

...

"Furina, I know you're not sleeping.."

Click!

The door slowly opened, revealing a short white-haired girl dressed in blue and black. Furina looked oddly embarrassed and just kept hands at her back, before looking at [y/n] with a more confident pose.

"[Y-Y/n]! Fancy meeting you here aha..."

"Furina.. I know you've been actively avoiding me, since I was searching for you for a week."

"O-oh really? I guess we kept missing each other-"

"You're a terrible liar.. Though I'm glad you're looking fine. Have you been eating and resting well?"

'They.. were worried about me? Even after I lied to them- no, everyone, about being an archon..'

"Uhm yeah! I've been making macaroni's to eat."

"Just 'macaroni'?"

"Yeah! With different sauces of course.."

[Y/n] sighed, before taking her hand and dragging her out of her house.

"[Y/n]?! Where are you taking me?"

"To a restaurant of course, it'll be my treat since I've received my paycheck."

[Y/n] suddenly felt a tug, looking back, seeing that Furina had stopped. Before [y/n] could ask her why she stopped, she posed a question.

"..Why are you being so nice to me? I lied to you about being an archon.. I can't even give you anything in return now.."

"Is it not obvious? I always see you as a friend. Not an archon, now come on, eating macaroni every day isn't healthy!"

Furina's eyes widden a bit before regaining their composure. That was probably the reason why she fell in love with you.

'Oh right.. Since I'm now a regular human, I can marry [y/n]!'

"Hey [y/n]? Can I tell you something?"

"Hm? What is it?"

"I-"

Furina choked on her voice.

"I-it's nothing. I just wanted to tell you thank you.. And that I appreciate you."

'It's fine.. Marry [y/n]? You're such a fool Furina, you should be just be content with being friends with [y/n]. They deserve someone better than a person who lied about being an archon.'

"I'm glad I met you Furina"

[Y/n] smiled blushing a little.

"Let's go get food together, okay? My treat!"

"Let's."

'Maybe.. In another universe, you could be mine.'

[brittle-doughie]

Why do I feel like...when y/n's ex, chocolate frosting cookie, tries to redeem themselves more...like try to give y/n flowers and a box of chocolates and wanting to try to win them back....cookies would just SWARM her!

Chocolate frosting: ok, got y/n's favorite chocolates, favorite flowers, tickets to their favorite [sport/concert/event]....ok, I'm all set to go see-

Cookie of your choice: *beats up chocolate frosting and grabs all the items.*

Later....

*knock on door...y/n answers.*

Cookie of your choice: *presents flowers, chocolates, tickets.* here, y/n. I got all of this for you! Let's go on a date!

(Ngl with how tough street urchin is...I kinda wanna guess you'd choose her nut on the other hand...a cookie of darkness would be a good candidate like affogato seeing this and telling his followers "whoever brings me the items that horrible woman has, gets a reward" or red velvet swarming her with hounds....though centipede, lilac, and scorpion are good thieves....though clotted cream could see this, make up a reason to arrest her, get her arrested and take items and take y/n on the date...buuut those are just some ideas from my end!)

You were spot on with the Street Urchin guess, I’d like to picture her as the the type of girlfriend that while she’s all tough and rough on the exterior, she’s completely soft and overprotective of her partner.

She IS the type to start beef with Chocolate Frosting after learning that she’s the one to rip out your heart like that, like what kind of business did she have with you?!

She’ll get up in Chocolate’s face, demanding to know why she’s still trying to hang around you. What you two had was over, you had Street Urchin and she’s damn making sure Chocolate’s not showing her face around you.

She’ll lowkey want to be lovebombed by you as her thanks….

[theseshipsshallsail]

Sorting through some old files and not sure if I ever posted this properly over here, so... apologies for the deja vu if so 😉

Summary:

Elio sighs in contentment when a palm slides up his spine, absent-minded fingertips drumming a brief ostinato as the mid-afternoon sun beats down upon them.

The rise and fall of Oliver’s chest is almost hypnotic as Elio lies sprawled against him, Billowy’s well-worn cotton soft beneath his cheek. All around, the low drone of nature lulls them with its song, and Elio watches through heavy eyelids as he traces lazy circles over the bronzed skin of Oliver’s stomach. The berm is tranquil - the only real movement that of the wildflowers in the breeze, brightly coloured swallowtails flitting between them - and Elio sighs in contentment when a palm slides up his spine, absent-minded fingertips drumming a brief ostinato as the mid-afternoon sun beats down upon them.

“Do you believe in fate?”

It’s barely a whisper, but Oliver pauses momentarily before continuing his sleepy caress. “Outside of our teachings, you mean?” Elio nods, and Oliver hums quietly. “Well, by definition, fate is already fixed by the cosmos, whereas destiny relies upon our individual choices.” He pauses, weighing his words, and goosebumps rise on Elio’s neck when a gentle exhalation stirs his hair. “So no,” he continues. “I prefer to think I’m in control of my own life, and not just chalk it up to inevitability.”

Elio smiles. “You’re a philosopher. Aren’t you supposed to put your faith in  things you can’t see?” he teases, curling in on himself when Oliver proceeds to tickle him. “What would your Heraclitus have to say about that?”

Oliver chuckles. “He’d argue that a man’s character is his fate. And that our personalities and actions shape the outcomes of our lives, and therefore, our destiny.” Easing up, he guides Elio back to his side. “And he’s not my Heraclitus.”

“Isn’t he?”

“Jealous, are you?”

Elio leans up to see his face. “So says the man who ate the peach.” 

The next few minutes divulge into breathless giggles when Oliver digs his fingers into Elio’s ribs again, scribbling over his lower belly until tears leak from his eyes.

“Bastardo!” Elio wheezes, as Oliver brushes his thumb over his cheek. 

“Didn’t see that coming, did you?”

“I’ll see you coming,” Elio grumbles - not much of a threat, admittedly - before settling down to listen to Oliver’s heart. “What would Heraclitus have to say, then?”

Oliver presses a kiss to his forehead. “He’d say that big results require big ambitions.”

“Are the two not mutually inclusive?” Elio asks, skirting the drawstring of Oliver’s shorts. “If fate comes to us regardless, and free will is what we decide to do with it, then you may not automatically get what you want, but you will always get what you choose.”

Oliver tips his head up. “And you call me the philosopher?”

Elio shrugs. “I guess you’re rubbing off on me.”

“Among other things.” They share a grin as Elio wriggles closer. “The inner workings of our lives may be complicated,” Oliver says, nudging his crown with his chin. “But it doesn’t necessarily follow it was designed to be.”

“Descartes may not agree.”

Oliver scoffs. “Seventeenth century upstarts,” he says, eyes dancing. “What do they know?” A flicker of something passes over his features - an indecipherable emotion that leaves Elio exhilarated and uneasy in equal measures. “Even if I were to accept that much of existence was pre-determined, my moral choices, and the direction in which I steer them, will always be my own.”

Elio arches a brow. “Which makes you what? The designated driver.”

“Precisely. My life is governed by me.” Oliver’s tongue makes a sinful appearance. “Me, and a few sensible individuals such as yourself.” 

“Sensible?” Elio snickers. “That’s not what you said last night.”

“Yes, well.” Oliver chuckles as he rakes a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “Need I remind you we were half-naked in your father’s study?”

“The door has a lock.”

“Which is why I now have rug burn on my ass and shoulders.”

“Want me to kiss it better? Elio asks, the picture of innocence, and Oliver slides an arm around his waist. 

“You’re a tease, Perlman,” he says, rolling on top of him. 

“I learned from the best, Americano.” 

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” Oliver grinds down against him. “Tell me more.”

Elio swallows a groan. “Absolument pas.”

“Why not?” Oliver asks. “We all play to our strengths.”

“Your ego’s big enough as it is,” Elio says, and the corners of Oliver’s lips quirk mischievously.

“By all means, feel free to stroke it.”

“You’re full of yourself.” 

“I’d rather be full of you.”

Elio barks a laugh, but his retort is silenced as Oliver takes his mouth in a searing kiss, leaving him flushed and panting when he eventually pulls away. 

“What were you saying?”

Elio frowns. “Je ne sais pas,” he says, as Oliver’s palms slip beneath the material of his trunks. “I seem to have forgotten, since I was so rudely interrupted.” 

“Disgraceful.” Oliver turns his attention to his neck. “I know how much you despise rudeness.”

“Déplorable.”

“However shall I earn your forgiveness?”

“I’m sure your other positive attributes will make up for it,” Elio says, wrapping a leg around his thigh. 

“Is that so?” Oliver begins to rock his hips, their breaths turning ragged as they fall into a steady rhythm. “Care to elaborate?”

“Well...” Elio shoots him a smirk, lost in the sweet push-pull of their bodies. “My parents think you’re a saint.”

Oliver snorts. “Do you want me to lose this erection?”

“Mafalda’s ready to adopt you.”

“Annella got there first.”

“And me?” It’s the work of a moment to lick his pout into submission. “I think you’re brave, determined, charming - when you want to be.” 

“Thanks, ever so.” Oliver nips at his ear. “Keep going,” he says, completely shameless, and because Elio’s damn near incapable of denying him anything these days, he huffs a put-upon sigh, rolls his eyes for good measure, then reaches around to grab the seat of his shorts. 

“You look like a muvi star. This ass is fantastico. And you have an impeccable sense of direction. C’est bon?”

Oliver stills above him. “What does that have to do with anything?” he asks, and Elio sobers instantly, forcing himself to meet his eyes. 

“You came back.”

The lump in his throat threatens to choke him, and Elio fights down tears as Oliver cups his cheek. “I did,” he says, voice strained. “But I never should have left in the first place. So what does that say about me?”

“It says you did what you thought necessary when faced with no other option,” Elio tells him, leaning in to chase the intimate taste of his skin. “It says you allowed your martyr complex - not one of those positive attributes, by the way - to override your heart.”

Oliver grimaces, but doesn’t deny it.

“It says you defied convention, your family, and prejudice itself, to be here with me now,” Elio continues. “It means that these days? These days are ours. No more worrying about being good or bad. It’s all about us. Our choices. Whether you want one egg or two. Bach or Horowitz. Green trunks or red. It means a siesta in our bedroom -” He gestures around them. “- or an afternoon at the berm.” 

“Elio...”

“It means we can wake up in each others arms, and get scolded by Mafalda for being late to breakfast, or swim before dawn, and watch the sun rise from Heaven. It means I get to decide whether to kiss you here...” Elio drags his mouth across his collarbone. “Or here,” he says, tasting the moan within Oliver’s throat as he bucks against him. “It’s about doing what we want, when we want. It’s about making each other happy.”

“And are you?” Oliver asks, capturing his face between trembling hands. “Happy, I mean?”

Elio smiles, surging up to kiss him, and by the time dusk settles over their own private paradise, Oliver is left in no doubt of his sincerity.

[buddiebeginz]

Just to be clear since I ranted a lot after last nights ep. I love Eddie I'll always love him he's one of my fav characters. But loving a character doesn't mean you have to excuse everything they do.

Kim showing up at the house dressed as Shannon was in large part on Kim. She didn't tell Eddie she was going to do that nor even ask to come over. I also get that in the state of mind Edde's been in lately and the fact that he wasn't expecting to see what was ostensibly Shannon on his doorstep he really didn't know what to do let alone kick her out or something.

Still Kim wouldn't have even known where Eddie lived had he not been cheating with her and not taken her to his house in the first place. I've seen a lot of people say Chris seeing Kim was all on Kim and it's not Eddie's fault but for me some of the blame does fall onto Eddie for the actions he took that led up to that.

I'm not saying that Eddie is a bad person or that I don't see he's in a bad place mentally. I just haven't liked some of the choices he's made this season. I also don't think Eddie ever intentionally wanted to hurt Chris. I know he'd never want to do that and it's going to hurt him greatly knowing he has.

Also I talked in my post about how I thought Buck should have been angry during the kitchen scene. This was just my first reaction after watching the ep. When I rewatched that scene I was glad Buck was as loving and gentle with Eddie as he was. It was clearly what Eddie needed in that moment because it was what motivated him to come clean to Kim about Shannon.

I guess I also get tired of the show never allowing the characters to deal with the consequences of their actions. We just saw this in 704 after Buck hurt Eddie (and I don't think he truly meant to) but I still think we needed to see them talk about what happened on the court. We've seen similar things like when Chim and Buck fought they never talked about it. Or when Buck cheated on Taylor, she just forgave him and stayed. I think sometimes it's harder to see the growth of a character if you don't get to see them dealing with their mistakes.

I'm also angry about this on Chris' behalf especially since we just saw Chris talking about his mom in 701. So part of me does want to see Buck getting angry at Eddie for the role he played in what happened. And for as much as the fandom talks about how Buck is like Chris' other dad it would make sense for Buck to be upset that his son was hurt.

At the end of the day though I love my Buddie family and I do want to see Buck being there for Eddie and Chris like I know he will be eventually after whatever craziness happens in the finale.

Also me talking about Eddie facing consequences for his part in this does not mean I was trying to insinuate that he's an unfit father or that Chris should be removed or anything like that. Like I said I don't think Eddie would ever want to do anything to intentionally hurt Chris. The best case scenario would actually be for Buck to come and stay with Eddie and Chris but given that Ryan said Eddie is going to be isolated I don't think we're going to see that. I'm not sure what's going to happen with Eddie's parent's coming to visit but Chris is way better off with Eddie than he'd ever be with his grandparents.

Anyway I just wanted to put this out there because I feel like my rant from last night came off the wrong way because I was venting about the ep. Even if I disagree with some of Eddie's choices I will still always defend Eddie and Buck and Buddie and I'm never closing on any of them.

[warriororb5]

Ok now that I’ve had some time to think about it;

Everything I liked and disliked about Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga:

Likes:

- That they tied in the one good thing from the comic, being Furiosa’s peach stone.

- Same goes for adding Scabrous from the game.

- Max’s cameo in his own franchise.

- Seeing the Green Place.

- Seeing Gastown.

- That even Joe of all people immediately clocked that the girl with Dementus was absolutely not willingly with him at all. (Takes one to know one I guess.)

- Seeing the Citadel not take Dementus seriously at all at first, basically the whole scene where they have his gang pick a random warboy to show him exactly how much he fucked up by picking a fight.

- All of the air fight stuff with the parasailing bikers.

- That Dementus and Octoboss both have their own version of Joe’s icon.

- That the warlords and Joe’s sons canonically hang out together at the Citadel.

- The shitty 3 wheeled car.

#1 - Praetorian Jack 🥰

Dislikes:

- That Peeps and Bullet Farmer weren’t at their towns at all the whole movie, especially when they tell Farmer to go get everything ready and he’s still at the Citadel afterwards. It makes it feel like the only reason they’re not at their towns is that they need them to survive to Fury Road and needed an easy reason Dementus didn’t kill them when he took over both times.

- How disappointing the Bullet Farm ended up looking.

- That we only get to see the Green Place for like 2 minutes (mostly only the outskirts of it) and other than establishing that Valkyrie and Furiosa were friends we get absolutely no other connections for Furiosa herself in her community.

- We got so little canon backstory for Furiosa other than the exact amount of days it took for her mother to die and they didn’t do anything with that, I personally looked over at my friend sitting next to me and held up two fingers on the morning of the second day thinking they were going to build suspense because the audience started the movie with that knowledge but no, they don’t make it clear how much time is passing.

- Furiosa mostly being hyper competent as a kid except for following her mom’s instructions to go the fuck home and walking straight into the enemy camp where she’s being killed.

- That Furiosa seems to have spent almost no time in the vault (possibly only one day?) before escaping and becoming part of the cog fodder then mechanic crew. That it doesn’t even seem like anyone bothered looking for her. That the only wives we see from this movie seem to be with Joe willingly, desperate to stay wives rather than be abandoned or demoted to milkers. Which I guess highlights their parallel to the warboys better, being brainwashed cogs in Joe’s machine. But the whole “everyone but Furiosa being cool with being in sexual slavery” gave me rancid vibes. It just seemed like a bizarre choice given how desperate the wives were to get away in Fury Road.

- Having basically everything terrible done to Furiosa in her backstory be done by Dementus rather than Joe. By the end of the movie it literally had me questioning why she even personally hated Joe as much as she did in Fury Road to even motivate the original “Remember Me”. Like don’t get me wrong, he’s still a warlord running a cult that dehumanizes everyone in it down to what they can do for him but why does Furiosa the titular protagonist hate him personally? He got her away from the man who originally stole her and killed her mother (for obviously selfish reasons by essentially bargaining for her like an object) and offered her what he and at least some of the other wives at this time considered a “”good”” future with him. After she (nearly instantly) escaped she became a Praetornian and then openly presented as a woman which Joe seems to not give a shit about at this point. And that’s kind of it. She shows up to tell Joe about Dementus’ trick which he believes and acts on. She steals his son’s car and gets Dementus herself which not only seems to have incited no punishment but he also lets her do that stupid tree thing to him. They gutted all of the implied horrors that Joe might have committed towards her to give the lesser villain from this movie more teeth and if taken as canon actively lessens Fury Road as a story.

- They didn’t even have her bond with any of the wives from this movie. . .

- Seriously guys, outside our protagonist there are basically no named women in this movie besides like her dead mom and that one biker who had the cool facial scaring, I’m not sure if she had a name in the movie so benefit of the doubt here. And I guess kid!Valkyrie for 20 seconds.

1# The stupid tree thing. Why. The actual fuck. Would Furiosa plant her peach stone in the Citadel before she knew she was going to stay there???? If she still planned to escape back home, and she did as we see 30 seconds after she gets the first peach from the tree, then why would she have planted that fucking tree in the first place with the expectation of abandoning it??? Also, just stupid. I go into a Mad Max movie with the intention of accepting everything. My willing suspension of disbelief for this franchise is so willing guys. But this is probably, hands down, one of the worst makes absolutely no sense endings in the franchise aside from Max “saving” those kids in the oasis with fresh water by leading them to the abandoned city for some reason in Thunderdome.

[coffe-and-tea-time]

ᯓও Wish I was your safe space…

Hi, coffee speaking! This is a comfort drabble about a kind of tsundere yandere and a reader who went non verbal, I'm not really used to write tsun in yanderes but I think it ends up well.

(not edited, gonna edit this later)

Tw: yandere behavior, swearing, somewhat willing reader, established relationship?, anexy, reader nonverbal due to run out of energy battery, hints of safe food/drink, general comfort and fluff, it's a tsundere-yandere but protective so yeh…

"Why aren't you replying to my messages?"

You get surprised at the sight of those bright yellow eyes on you as he gets closer, his voice sounds like something between annoyed and worried. also seems like he already manage to do a copy of your house key

"..."

"Why aren't you saying anything to me? Did you manage to get hurt in the time I blink or something?"

You slightly shake your head, wondering what you could do to make him understand, your head goes a million by second, fearing to upset him due to being nonverbal at the moment, your breath quickens a bit… until a warm and tender touch on your check steals your attention.

"You don't seem like you have a fever or hurt, this is the 'battery' thing you were talking about before?"

You nod, relieved that he seems to understand what is going on. He then sits on the bed right beside you and holds you in a semi hug, as if you're gonna fly away or something.

"It's okay, you don't need to talk, you just need to be here and exist with me… I will stay right besides you, I won't let anything coming in your way, you need a proper rest right now, and I'm gonna make sure you have it, and if you rather me not being here, then, sucks to be you, I will stay and make sure you don't die or something"

Despiste his words that makes you kinda want to punch his stupid pretty face, it's also feels nice, to be cared for, although not with the greater choice of words, it's clear that he care when you feel his hand shake a little as he hold you gently, he must got worried and run here without a second thought, it's almost sweet enough for you to forget to ask yourself how he got inside in the first place.

"I will order some of your favorites, lay down on bed while I go get some water for you, I'm not dumb to not guess your schedules must be fucked up right now"

You were about to fight back but he gently pulled you down in the bed again.

"Yeh, yeh, I know, you don't like being orden around and bla bla bla but when you feel like the energy is drain out of your body, it's means that you really are obliged to have a rest"

You really can't fight back that logic, although part of your brain is worried about being a burden, you decide to let yourself indulging for a bit as you watch him leave the room probably going straight to the kitchen; Now that you think about it, he did say he will order some of your favorites, he truly knows your taste on food? Well, guess you will find out soon.

"Here, I got some water, the food will be here in about half an hour, it's good that I bring this with me before coming here"

As you put your gaze on him, you notice he's holding a glass of water in one hand and your favorite drink with the other, which you automatically move your hand to grab like a desperate lost person in a desert that just found an oasis.

"Nope, not so fast, hun"

You return your focus on him as an instinctive frown appears on your face.

"First the water, then you can have your special drink"

Reclutanly, you drank the water since there is not really much of an option and you truly need that drink.

"Huh? It's weird and a relief that you don't kick me for saying that or try to grab the drink anyways, well done, honey"

You do a little happy hum as you grab your precious prize in your hand just as he sits beside you on the bed to quietly pat your back.

"You know? I'm aware this is close to a story you tell the police about rather that something romantic but even if you find it unsettling, I want you to know that I care for you, even if it seems like it took a second to anything happens to you, I long for be here every single time"

A feeling of a faint kiss meets your forehead.

"You're a disaster, but you're my disaster, dummy"

Even if you think of hitting him for saying that, a stupid smile creeps on your lips.

bzzzt

"Oh, that it's my phone, should be the food, we will eat first and then came back to the cuddling"

He stands up and just when he is about to leave the room to go get the door.

"Oh, and don't think for a moment you will be free from me, I'm gonna make sure you got better"

That sounded more threatening than it needs to, but it doesn't sound that bad…

sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣

Images from pinterest

[dokries]

goldleaf

pairing: hong jisoo (joshua) x gender neutral reader

genre: angst, hanahaki au

word count: 1.1k

warnings: no happy ending, mentions of death + implied main character death…eventually, One mention of swearing, unrequited love, the normal hanahaki au things (blood, throwing up, etc.)

author note: um so guess who found out she can actually write angst! it’s written in joshua’s pov the entire time and reader is just kinda in the background (they’re still important though!) also, if you want a lil more info about how i wrote this, check out my reblog! lots of love ♡

masterlist

when joshua sees you with them, he can’t deny that he feels…more than he wishes he did.

he’s sick and tired of the hollowness in his chest but it’s fine. it’ll all be fine once he sees you happy, right? that's what he says to convince himself before looking up at the sky and seeing you in the shape of the clouds and the way the sun hits them and himself.

fuck, he’s in too deep to continue to believe the sorry excuse he’s made up for himself to feel a little better. it never helps anyway, so why keep using it? he lets it go, imagining it fluttering away on a breeze that reminds him way too much of the person always on his mind.

so when the tingling in his throat comes out as petals the same golden like the colour he imagines your soul to be, he isn’t surprised. as he exits the bathroom, he avoids jeonghan’s gaze, promises that he’ll be fine; after all, it’s just a cold—whatever it takes to keep his best friend from worrying. at least he knows his promises won’t be worth much anyway.

he sees you often, your smile as cheery as the flowers haunting him in his dreams and the ones sticking to his lungs, trapped in his chest. he’s alright, he tells himself. he’ll be fine.

he doesn’t go to the doctor. he’s read and seen enough of what’s happening to him, and he knows the choice he’ll have to make if he goes. he knows that the only solution is to forget, but he would never do that. he can’t let go of wandering around in the wheat fields that one summer you two were in the countryside, or the time you laughed and laughed at a joke that wasn’t funny, or when he lost all hope and you were there, making sure he could get back up again and live. if the price of keeping the memories he holds close is death, he’s okay with it.

joshua doesn’t tell his roommates. he knows that jeonghan and seungcheol would drag him to the emergency room against his will, and force him to take the option he’s already decided against. he wouldn’t let them sway him anyway, but it’s easier if they don’t know. however, time seems to choose to leave the bathroom—even when it seems to be going too fast for joshua’s liking these days—when jeonghan finds him hovering over the sink, bloody tissues in his hand and washed petals placed carefully on the side.

the two of them say nothing.

jeonghan leaves, and joshua turns to the mirror above the sink, taking a good look at himself. he wipes off the dried blood on his top lip, noticing nothing else wrong. he doesn’t realize that after he leaves, jeonghan is horrified by the lack of light in his friend’s eyes, the spark he thought would never go out.

jeonghan hasn’t said anything since, lost in his thoughts every time he’s home. seungcheol is freaked out, not understanding the dead silence in the house. he doesn’t know that he’ll have to pay more for rent in…well, however long it takes for joshua’s lungs to finally fill up with your flowers. joshua knows he’s being cruel, but can’t he be allowed to be selfish in his last moments? is that too much to ask for after everything?

he doesn’t approach jeonghan, and instead writes. he writes journal entries in that notebook you got him a few years back, but he never used it because he was too scared to mess up in something you gave him; letters to those he’ll miss. he revises the one for his mother over and over again, crumpling paper like his lungs.

joshua doesn’t try to hide anything from seungcheol. he knows that his housemate’s blank expression means more than what he says. in fact, there is nothing said; their house is a place to rest and eat and nothing else. it’s as if there’s three ghosts, not just a single potential one. joshua sighs, wheezing out more petals. he grabs them hastily, making sure they don’t fall to the ground or worse, onto your letter. he carries them gently in his bloodied hands to the bathroom sink once again, the only companion he seems to have in the past few weeks.

joshua rinses each souvenir of his love one by one, clearing the dark red off before drying them and taking them back to the pile he’s made ever since this started. at first, they were hidden away in a small box on the corner of his desk, so no one would wander in and see them. now, he puts them on his nightstand haphazardly, the dark wood no longer visible under the various shades of yellow and red.

joshua picks up his pen—the expensive one his mom gifted him when he moved away so long ago; he never used it until now. the ink glides smoothly over the clean paper he had taken out earlier. he writes once again.

the only thing he knows how to say now is sorry. he writes it over and over again, signing each letter with the sounds he can barely make in real life, his voice hoarse from the damage done on his throat, and the lack of use.

maybe it’s time for something different? after all, this is for you, and he wants the news to be broken softly. he racks his head for something, anything that he finds good enough to become something real. he drinks the day-old water from the plastic bottle beside him, the familiar taste of blood accompanying it.

he glances at the clock he’s kept beside him since the start, and counts down two seconds; he has no time to waste.

he puts down the words he’s said so often to you that they’ve become a habit but seem to have changed ever since he started throwing up marigolds—a literal reminder of his unrequited love.

it’ll be a bit hard to be there for you when he’s dead, won’t it? joshua doesn’t mind. he never will.

he chuckles dryly, a whole flower falling out. he gets up and repeats his process for the petals before sitting back down.

joshua looks at his handiwork, pausing and adding a few more words before moving his paper to the side, and starting on another letter for his mother.

he stares blearily at the clock again, the red blinking numbers the only comfort he allows himself. it’s a new day.

joshua hopes it’ll finally be his last.

[vodika-vibes]

The Brotherhood - Stat Wars AU

Summary: Misfit is kicked from the 501st and barred from joining Rex with the 332nd. Though, he was warned that this would happen.

Characters: Clone OC - Misfit, ARC Trooper Fives, Clone Trooper Tup, Clone Trooper Dogma, Commander Fox, Captain Rex, ARC Trooper Jesse (mentioned)

Word Count: 764

“I know you're not thrilled, Misfit-” Rex says slowly as he looks at his, very unimpressed, little brother, “But this might be a good thing.”

Misfit pulls a cigarette out of his jumpsuit pocket and slips it between his lips, though he doesn't light it just yet, “A good thing, huh?”

“You're not made for military life, vod. You've been miserable since the war started-”

“-so you're ditching me.” Misfit replies, finally pulling his lighter from his pocket and lighting the stick hanging from his lips.

“I…wish you wouldn't say it like that.”

“Oh? Is there a nicer way to phrase it?” Misfit asks sarcastically as he flicks an unkempt curl off his forehead.

“Misfit, vod,” Rex sighs, “You haven't exactly made any friends over the years. You convinced Barriss Offee to leave the order.”

“I convinced her that terrorism wasn't going to prove her point.” Misfit corrects as he blows some smoke out the side of his mouth, “Her leaving the order was just the next best thing.”

Rex is quiet for a long time, “Ahsoka tried to have you transferred to her, but the Admiral decided that you're a liability. Your drug use is rather well known at this point.” He shakes his head, “I'm sorry, vod. But there's no longer a choice. Maybe…maybe you should talk to the jedi about rehab.”

Misfit flicks some ash off his cigarette, “I'd sooner eat my blaster.” There's a shout from the doorway, and Misfit turns his cold gaze to his older brother, “Better get going, Commander.” Somehow, the rank sounds like an insult.

Rex lingers for a moment, and then he turns away, “Don't do anything drastic, Misfit. We'll talk when I get back, maybe get you sent to the 212th.”

“I won't hold my breath.” Misfit leaves before Rex reaches the door, and Rex's shoulders slump as he walks over to Jesse, who sympathetically claps him on the shoulder. 

Misfit walks through the clone Barracks, breezing past his brothers, content with them ignoring him. He turns down a side hall, goes down a flight of stairs, and kicks open a swinging door that leads to a darkened, musty smelling hallway.

The hallway leads to one place, a large room that's been ignored for years. Well, officially at least.

Misfit reaches the door and keys in the code that he was given earlier that day. The door slides open and Misfit steps into a well lit and clean smelling room.

“Do you have to smoke that in here?” Fives asks from where he's flipping a blade between his fingers.

“It's this or I throw myself off the roof, take your pick, vod.” Misfit replies.

“Put it out, Misfit.” Fox orders from where he's scanning a datapad, “I'm guessing you're here because you've been kicked out of the 501st.”

“And the 332nd.” Misfit confirms as he puts his cigarette out in the convenient ashtray. “Just like you said.”

“I'm sure it wasn't personal,” Tup says from where he's examining the blade attached to his wrist. “You know what Rex is like.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Misfit tucks his cigarette behind his ear, and drops into a chair next to Dogma, “Anyway, why am I here with three vod'e who are supposed to be dead?”

Fox smirks and drops a strange looking blade on the table in front of Misfit. It straps to the inside of his wrists, and a sharp blade pops out from the hilt as he flexes his wrist. “This is a hidden blade,” Fox explains, “perfect for assassinations.”

“Will you finally tell us what you're planning?” Dogma asks.

Fox drops in a seat, a small smirk on his face, “I'm making an assassination squad. The four of you were chosen because all four of you are quiet in the Force. According to Vos, you're force quiet.”

“Meaning?” Tup asks.

“You're force sensitive enough that other force sensitives can't detect you.” Fox leans forward, “I'm sure you can tell that there are a lot of people in the galaxy who deserve to die. People we can't touch. That's what you four are for.”

“You want us to be your personal assassins?” Fives asks.

“No, I am going to be completely hands off from here on out. You'll do your own research, gather your own evidence. Your targets are your choice.” Fox says, “Fives will be in charge.”

Fives pauses and a dark smirk crosses his face, “Palpatine will be our first target.” He leans over the table as Fox leaves the room, “Welcome to the Assassin's Brotherhood.” Fives almost purrs, as he drops a map of the senate on the table, “We're going to save everyone.”

[boots-with-the-fur-club]

These Are Not Our Masks Chapter 7!

@daboyau

@that-0n3-shr00mi3-guy

@iobsesswaytoomuch

@sady-is-secretly-an-alchemist

@dluebirb

@burritello3000

Mikey screams again, falling backwards in an attempt to get away.

Leo’s mask tilts and stares him down with the black, soulless part that covers his eyes.

Mikey scrambles back until his shell hits a wall.

“What did you do!?”

Leo’s head turns towards the blood on the floor before he looks back at Mikey.

“It’s pretty clear what I did. Do you need to see it again?”

Mikey shakes his head almost immediately.

“I-Is he-“

“Dead? That’s up to him. If he’s not stubborn and gets himself treatment from an actual doctor instead of trying to fix himself up with his fake degree.” Leo says, voice dripping with disdain.

Mikey did not see any of this coming.

Not by a long shot.

“I-I thought you were working for him-“

“That’s what I wanted you to think! That’s what I wanted everyone to think! Including him. I was biding my time until he finally showed me what I needed.” Leo picks up Mikey’s mask from the floor.

Mikey’s eyes follow the movement.

“The mask…?”

“How to make it. That’s all he was good for. Now we can really complete the set!”

Footsteps signal the arrival of two more people.

Mikey looks up in horror.

Raph and Donnie.

Leo’s body language seems giddy as he twists around to look at them. He sets the mask down on a table.

“Took you longer than I thought to show up!”

Raph snarls at him.

“You come after us for not followin orders and then merc the boss? We ain’t just sitting by and takin it! You’re gonna bring him back and then you’re gonna take punishment.”

Donnie holds out his hands, they’re gloved and letting out sparks.

“Oh please, let me do it.”

Leo’s body shakes like he’s laughing hysterically, but no sound comes out.

“I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and say it’s Draxum making you so stupid! You’re outnumbered!”

“Check your math, inferior. There’s four people in this room.” Donnie corrects.

“And only one person fighting a winning battle.” He shakes more.

“Quit playin games.” Raph hisses.

Leo finally let’s out the manic cackling that’s been building up.

“But I love games! I want to play the one where you guess how many bones I’ll break!”

“No! Leo! Don’t!” Mikey screams.

“Aww, of course Leo won’t.” He promises.

Raph comes at him first, fist cocked to connect with Leo’s jaw. Leo doesn’t move an inch, opening a portal right in front of him. Another portal opens next to Donnie, causing him to get hit hard enough to make a dent in the floor when he falls.

“Artemis will.”

Mikey screams again. His throat is starting to hurt from how much he’s doing it. He stands up and tries to get to Donnie, but Leo shoves his arm hard across his plastron.

“You know that feeling of wanting to help that you keep making everyone else’s problem? Take it and shove it down deep inside or I’ll make you, got it? SUCK IT UP ALREADY!” Leo hisses, moving his hand grabbing Mikey’s head before tossing him to the ground again.

Mikey lands on his shell, yelping in pain.

Raph goes into a frenzy.

He starts attacking without any real strategy or direction. Raph just wants to hit him. Leo ducks and weaves, not moving quickly, but just enough to keep Raph’s attention trained on him and only him.

“What’s wrong, Atlas? Afraid for them? Ah ah ah, what did you just say about not behaving correctly?” Leo hops back.

Mikey doesn’t have a single clue about what to do right now. Is Leo on his side? Should be help Raph and Donnie? He can’t exactly escape, Leo is way too fast and ready to hurt him if he tries.

Can he really just watch and do nothing?

Does he have a choice?

Leo hides his hands behind his back and makes another portal. Mikey can see how he slows down slightly, hands appearing in a portal again. He doesn’t know what he’s doing until he sees the movement of Donnie’s gloves being pulled off his hands.

Raph slashes at Leo with sharp claws only for his body to start jolting at the electricity running through it. Leo has a glove pressed to Raph’s neck and holds it there until the snapping turtle falls to a knee.

“This is the way you’ve always been, huh, Atlas? Stubborn to a fault, and for what? Nobody appreciates what you do. A defender, a protector, former leader, wasted in a rage filled beast who can’t bare to be alone. Go to sleep. I’ll be taking over the show.” He presses the other glove to him.

Raph falls over completely, twitching.

Leo tosses the gloves into yet another portal.

Donnie pathetically drags himself over to Raph once he has an ounce of consciousness and lays over his arm.

Leo giggles, the sound echoing in Mikey’s ears.

This isn’t Leo. It’s not by a long shot. It isn’t Draxum either, it’s a completely different evil that’s more heinous than anything they’ve encountered before.

Whatever it is has his brother under its grip.

He can’t get anyone back if Leo is like this. He won’t let him.

An idea pops into his head.

There’s one thing Leo has tried to stop this entire time, even when it hasn’t made sense, especially when he said he wanted it to happen.

While Leo is distracted by having Foot ninja come in and remove their injured brothers, Mikey shakily grabs the mask.

Leo quickly spins around as he hears metal move off the table. His head tilts once more.

“Icarus, what do you think you’re doing?”

Mikey swallows hard, hands still shaking as he holds it in his hands. He can feel the evil radiating off such a deceptively cute mask.

“Y-You don’t want me wearing this yet. T-Tell me what you’re planning. Wh-Why you’ve gone against Draxum. Wh-Who’s actually in control!”

He wishes that he could be as tough as nails as he needs to be when demanding such a thing, but it’s so hard to muster that after what he’s seen and who he’s talking to.

Leo stares at him.

Mikey feels his nerves on absolute edge.

Leo starts circling around him.

Mikey gets the odd sensation of being a fish in a fish bowl while a cat tries to figure out a way inside.

Or a way to get the fish out.

“Finally….” Leo mutters.

“What…?”

“FINALLY! I’ve been trying to rip your heart out from your brain this whole time! You still went way too soft but I can work with that!”

Leo grabs Mikey’s arm and starts pressing the mask closer to his face.

“Leo!”

“What!? I thought you wanted to threaten me! Take a good look at what’s going to happen to you!”

Mikey barely manages to keep the mask from being put on. He’s always been strong, but Leo is on another level right now. He shouldn’t be able to do this.

Mikey can see the tendrils reaching out towards him. It makes him sick to his stomach. This is the last thing his brothers saw before they lost themselves.

Think Mikey, think!

He said he wanted everyone to assume he was working for Draxum, but why? He said he needed to know how the mask is made to complete the set, but his mask finishes it!

Doesn’t it?

Why didn’t he want the mask on him before?

Why didn’t he hurt April or dad?

Why isn’t he trying harder?

Is he….stalling…?

His eyes widen as he pauses his struggle.

“You….you want to mask them too!?”

Leo rips the mask away.

“Ding ding ding! You finally get something right! That’s all I’m going to give you. Want some bonding time? No? Too bad.”

Mikey feels the ground under him vanish as he falls through a portal. He lands on a cement floor and groans in pain. His eyes are drawn to the bars in front of him. Leo really put him in a cell. He’s gone full supervillain, if that wasn’t obvious enough already.

Directly across from him, he sees that Donnie and Raph have their own, separate cells. It makes sense he’s keeping them apart. The way they are, they’d probably attack on sight.

Can those bars hold Raph back?

He hates how he has to hope they can. It’s not right to be this scared of his oldest brother. That’s only reserved for when he’s truly angry, lecturing about missed training or reckless behavior.

Raph is supposed to be the one who makes a scary world so much more bearable. The moment Mikey goes into his shell he knows who will be one of the first to grab and hold it tight, not letting go and silently promising to take care of him when he’s too overwhelmed.

He’s taken it so much for granted. He knows that. Mikey always assumed that he’d just have Raph doing things for him for….ever. He thought he’d always have Raph period.

His eyes move to Donnie next.

He’s still out cold.

When will he wake up?

He will wake up, right?

Raph hit him pretty hard.

Donnie would probably hate Mikey thinking like that. He doesn’t want to be seen as weak. He already covers up the shell he was born with to ease the anxiety of having it at all.

Donnie wishes he was as gruff and tough as he tries to make himself out to be. Behind every evil laugh and joke about hurting his brothers, there’s a longing to be more connected to them. To understand each other.

Mikey starts whining and whimpering. Two of his brothers are right there in front of him and he feels more alone than ever. He can’t be brave. It’s impossible.

“…Icarus…..” A soft hiss draws his attention back.

Mikey rushes to the bars, grabbing them and pressing himself close enough to squish his face.

“Donnie! Donnie, are you okay!?”

He’s sat up, gripping the bars tightly himself.

“What do you think!? That pathetic, sniveling rat avoided punishment now but I will make him understand what it means to suffer!”

Mikey sighs.

Really, what was he expecting?

“You sat there and did nothing! You coward! Weakling!”

“Leave him alone….” Raph grumbles from his place on the floor.

Of course he’s-

Wait, what?

“R-Raph?”

“Ica-….Mikey….”

Mikey gasps, desperately reaching his arm through the gaps. Raph is way too far away for him to actually ever reach him but he wants to try anyways.

“Raph! Raph! Are you actually you!?”

Raph grips the mask on his face. It’s slightly loose, he attempts to pull on it but it only earns him a loud grunt in pain.

“I-I’m tryin to be. I-It’s hard.”

“It’s okay! It’s okay, I know you can do it! I just need to know how! You have to tell me why your mask is loose!”

Raph grumbles, still in pain and unable to think as clearly from the damage done to him.

“Shock, the shock, made….made everything hurt….it started….making it let go….but it’s coming back. It’s healing. It wants me back.”

“No! You have to fight it! Don’t let it take you again, please! I need you! I can’t do this by myself!” Mikey pleads, near tears.

Raph smiles at him. It’s genuine, but pain is written all over it.

“You….you can, Mikey. I know you think I d-don’t trust you, y-you think I won’t let you go on your own because I-I look down at you, but i-it’s not why. It’s m-me. I’m scared. F-For you. I….want to protect you….I need to….I have to….I believe in you!”

Mikey’s tears flow freely now.

He’s losing him.

Again.

He blinks the tears away hard as he watches the mask slip itself more into place, taking his brother away and leaving something awful instead.

Raph hisses and clicks, Donnie responding to it in turn.

Mikey knows now what he has to do.

It will hurt them, it’s going to be incredibly difficult at best, and it might kill him at worst to try.

He still has to to try.

[mingisdoll]

Humble and kindness

Trope: rookie!San x maestro!reader

This will take place in an orchestral setting

@newworldnet

@blossomnet

As San straightened out his pristine suit jacket that was ironed to perfection, he looked himself in the mirror one last time and gave himself a small pep talk.

"You got this, San. You can do it. You've been practicing for months on end for this very moment. You can make it. Fighting!"

After releasing a short breath, he picked up his silver violin case, slung it over his shoulder, and began walking briskly from out of his apartment to the busy streets of Seoul.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He probably should've brought an umbrella. Good thing he packed an emergency one in his case.

After closing it back up and opening the umbrella, he made his way to the symphony hall again. He only had three more blocks to cover. As he continued to walk briskly yet carefully in the rain, he noticed something odd. A few feet away from him, a young woman was wearing a cloak and was standing under a newspaper stand to try and shield herself from the rain. She had been asking for various strangers to lend their umbrella, only to be met with half assed apologies or straight up rudeness whenever they said no.

His heart broke when most of them were young people with violin cases slung over their shoulders as well. Looks like they cared more about the competition than helping a stranger out.

Due to the fact that he couldn't stand the weary woman suffering for so long, he walked over to her and put on his kindest smile.

"Hello, ma'am. Need to go somewhere?"

The woman heard his voice and let out a soft cry of relief.

"Yes yes! I need to get to the symphony hall. I want to see my child audition! Unfortunately, my car broke down in the middle of horrendous downpour and I didn't bring an umbrella with me so I had no choice but to stand here."

"How long have you been in the rain?"

"Not too long but it feels likes ages! Please, young man. Can you help me?"

A short internal conflict went on inside his mind. His brain told him to just ditch the woman and hope she forgives him while his heart told him to help her out so she wouldn't miss her child's audition. Sighing quietly, he made up his mind.

"Ok. I can take you. I might be late, but I'd rather be late than have someone's kid audition knowing that their number one supporter isn't there for them."

The woman's eyes shone brightly and a grateful smile graced her face. She scuffled under his umbrella and was even more shocked when she felt his jack be draped over her shoulders.

"But what about you?! Your shirt will be soaked and you will get sick!"

"Your wellbeing comes first, ma'am. Besides, I have an emergency shirt in my case that I can change into later."

The woman chuckled and they both walked together to the symphony hall.

"So... I presume you will audition as well?"

"Yes, ma'am. I've always wanted to perform in front of my biggest inspiration for years!"

"Ahh! Let me guess. Is it that one young girl? Y/N?"

San nodded eagerly and the woman chuckled.

"I heard she got her rise to fame fairly quick. She used to be a street performer and now here she is, playing in the KQ Grand Hall in front of thousands of her most beloved fans."

"That is correct! It's always been my dream to make a name for myself, wherever that might be." San chuckled sadly before speaking.

"After tearing a muscle in my calf during a taekwondo competition, I thought my life was over. During physical therapy, my hands started to get antsy so the doctor found something for my hands to do. At first, when I played a single note, it sounded like a dying cat being strangled and it was screeching for help."

The woman giggled to that comparison.

"From there, I learned how to play on my own."

"No teacher to guide you?"

"Most of the teachers thought I was too cocky or arrogant whenever I passed a simple lesson. They quit right after teaching me a few lessons. It kind of saddened me, but that didn't stop me from learning. Now, here I am."

"Do you think you'll pass the audition?"

"I would hope so. If not, I'm just grateful enough to even perform in front of y/n."

"That's very humbling of you, young man. I pass on my good luck to you for your audition."

"Thank you, ma'am."

When they arrived at the doors of the symphony hall, San let the woman go in first. She thanked him and was about to give him his jacket back when he shook his head.

"Keep it. I want you to stay warm and healthy."

The woman smiled.

"Alrighty then. Thank you for walking me to this venue. You truly are a kind man."

San simply smiled before waving goodbye to her and turning to the table that had sign-in sheets. Once he signed in, the employee pointed to a practice room behind San, where other musicians were waiting for their audition. Some were even practicing. San thanked the employees and walked to the practice room before finding a seat and opening his case so he could take out his violin and practice.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The tension in the symphony hall was thick.

Some musicians only made it through halfway of their audition piece before they were sent out of the audition room. A few of them walked in and then walked out since the maestro and her two colleagues, who were also judges, didn't even want to hear to the piece in the first place. It caused an uproar and loud claims of being unfair, to which the maestro shut it down quickly.

One of the musicians even cried as she ran out of the audition room.

The maestro made someone cry!

San was the last one to audition and some of the musicians that auditioned before him wished him the best of luck while others tried to persuade pressure him into backing out and calling it quits since the maestro has high expectations and San will never be able to surpass them. However, San pushed all of that aside and walked into the audition room with a humble head held up high and a kind heart beating rapidly.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hello. Tell us your name, the piece you'll play, and why you want to be a part of the maestro's symphony."

The colleague named Seonghwa spoke mundanely as the colleague named Hongjoong read over San's portfolio. The maestro sat silently in between Matz with the back of her chair facing San. San gulped nervously and spoke.

"Hello. My name is Choi San. The piece I'll play is actually an original piece I composed. Or rather transcribed I should say."

He quickly passed out three copies of his audition. Seonghwa, Hongjoong, and the maestro looked over the piece while San kept talking.

"The title of the piece is called Everything. It's actually written by my little brother. His name is Choi Jongho. He allowed me to transcribe his song and his dream is to have this performed in front of thousands of people during a symphony concert."

Seonghwa hummed quietly in approval while Hongjoong spoke up this time.

"It says on your portfolio that you were once a world-renowned taekwondo champion. During an international competition however, you pulled a calf muscle, which rendered you down. You've been in physical therapy and picked up the violin as a hobby."

"That is correct." San answered politely.

"So answer me this. Why would you, a former athletic champion, want to join something as spectacular as the symphony? You could've done some other sport yet you chose to dabble in the arts."

San sighed.

"I've been asked this question a million times and my answer will always be the same. I want to make a name for myself whether it be here or somewhere else. I also want to make my family proud. They've always been there for me. Growing up in Namhae, we don't get a lot of opportunities since it's such a small town. My parents worked hard to make sure Jongho and I have a bright future. They also taught us how to be humble and kind whenever we receive those opportunities. I may sound like I'm talking out of my ass, but it's the truth."

Hongjoong sat there in a stunned silence while Seonghwa leaned in so the maestro could whisper something in his ear. San caught a glimpse of a gold ring on her index finger and looked down at his own, smiling to himself slightly.

Both of them wore a simple gold band on their index finger.

Once Seonghwa nodded, he sat up straight.

"Do you have a backing track for this? Most of the other musicians did."

"I do not. However, I do have the piano chords written down."

Matz were pleasantly surprised by this and Seonghwa nodded to Hongjoong. The smaller man got up and San gave him the sheet music. Hongjoong took it and sat at the piano before cracking his knuckles.

"Ok. Whenever you're ready. I can sight read."

San started and got into playing position.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once the audition was over, San stayed in that position with his bow lifted in the air until Hongjoong ceased playing. Seonghwa nodded and Hongjoong got up to take his place at the judge's table once more. San got into resting position and anticipated the words of the judges.

"Hongjoong and I already have our opinions, but the maestro herself would like to say her part."

"I'm ready for what she has to say. Whatever the verdict may be, I deserve it."

The chair spun around and San's breath got knocked out of his chest. Standing before him was y/n. She was wearing her iconic pinstripe pantsuit but in lieu of the pinstripe blazer

Was a very familiar looking suit jacket.

"Wait a minute... you're the woman that was under the newspaper stand?!"

A light giggle escaped her lips and San's heart rate increased rapidly. As her heels clicked over to where he was standing, she stared up at him with a soft smile.

"Yes I was. I knew people would do anything to make sure they made it to their audition on time, even if it meant disregarding anyone that was in need of help."

She reached out to him and fixed his tie, the gold ring brushing against the gray fabric.

"You risked being late to your audition to help out someone in need. And I admire you for that."

San chuckled softly while Matz awkwardly looked away.

"Do you even have a kid?"

"No. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that you were a good Samaritan. And you are exactly what I need for my symphony."

After fixing his tie, she took his violin and set it on top of the piano before grabbing his hands in hers.

"You passed your audition. Welcome to the symphony, Choi San. Let me repay your kindness by composing a full orchestral version of your brother's song. You can even conduct it. I'll play for you."

San couldn't help the bright smile on his face as he picked y/n up and spun her around. She didn't mind thought. The feeling of being in this kind man's strong arms felt nice. After he set her down, she spoke once more.

"Shall we get to work?"

[optimisticrunawaygalaxy]

I enjoy watching Spider-Man in a very normal and hinged way <3 (yes these were hand listed)

[hotpotghosts]

[mx-anthony-janthony-crowley]

aziraphale's relationship with heaven vs crowley's relationship with hell in S2 serves as this beautiful, heartbreaking metaphor for the choice that so many queer people with unaccepting - and in many cases abusive - families find themselves forced to make. crowley has made the leap. he's cut himself off, and when they've tried to stay in touch or even bring him back, he's always resisted. "we're better than that, you're better than that!". in a way he's been through it before - he was rejected by heaven, and so it makes sense to him to take the opportunity to reject hell on his own terms. it doesn't come without consequence, of course. so many queer people find themselves having to suppress their identities until they're financially independent - cut to crowley living in his car. but he's made the choice, and he's free to do his own thing now. aziraphale, at the start of the season, is also more or less completely separate from heaven; we know from crowley "they don't talk to him anymore", and he's not making any effort to get in touch with them. but then when they ask him to come back, they manipulate him again. the metatron offers him coffee and then tells him "i've ingested things in my time, you know" - a world away from gabriel's "why do you consume... that?". he's assured that the things which he thought made him too... different, too not-good for heaven, are in fact okay. aziraphale was finally living his own life, far away from them, and doing the things he enjoyed, the things that they always shamed him for. but now he thinks, maybe he can go back and this time they'll accept him - it doesn't have to be like it was before! he's changed and maybe they have too, and if they haven't then maybe they'll listen to him! he can show them how to be better, he can make a difference. he isn't yet ready to face the reality that he can never be the person (well, angel) that they want him to be, not without losing sight of what makes him him. he might wish he could bring himself to say no, to cut them off, but he can't do it. because despite it all, he still has hope that they can change. and of course he does - years of trauma have told him time and time again that they're the good guys, after all. so he thinks, if they can't change, then who can? if they can't accept him, who will?