#especially when Snow says “if he ever had children-and he planned to one day”

[todd-queen]

"Mizzen walked with a limp, but he would still outmatch most of the remaining tributes if it came to a fight. Coriolanus wondered if, in the end, it would all come down to Coral and Mizzen deciding which District 4 tribute took home the crown."

(pg. 295)

you guys I am losing it over Suzanne and the way she just flawlessly parallels EVERYTHING in TBoSaS to the original Hunger Games. i just.. all the little nuances and foreshadowing that Snow is so oblivious to. he's just thinking things guys, he has no clue of the bigger picture. but we do!!! ahhhh!!!!!!

[giuliettagaltieri]

Smile for Me

Pairing: President!Coriolanus Snowx First Lady!Reader

Synopsis: With your family involved with the politics of Panem, it was expected of Coriolanus to make you the First Lady. Only, he cannot return your affections as he long gave up on such pursuits and only wanted a loveless marriage, until he had to listen to you make a stand for your beloved fabric.

Warning: arranged marriage, angst, unrequited love, mentions of sex

Word Count: 1653

Coriolanus Snow swore to himself to never make the same mistake as to fall in love again.  The last time he tried, he had come undone, almost destroying himself while doing it, almost sacrificing what could have been his.

Still, a President needs a First Lady.

You come from a family with deep roots embedded in the politics of Panem.  One could call you a political dynasty, but nobody ever pays it any mind, at least inside the Capitol.  You are so good to your people, always putting the Capitol first above anything else.

When Coriolanus asked for your hand in marriage, your family and all of Capitol were simply elated.

But marriage with Coriolanus was not the fairytale you thought it would be.

He was not unkind.  But he was never warm with you either.  He tends to sleep on his side of the bed, his back turned to you.

But you never really gave up on him.  You wanted the marriage to work, even if he cannot offer his heart to you.

Coriolanus lets you join him for breakfast, nodding to your narration of your shopping escapades, shyly smiling at him, thanking him for paying for all the bags he let you buy. 

You would butter his bread for him, pour him his tea as you tell him that you are planning to take cooking lessons so you can cook for him one day, especially when you are to have children.

There were times in which you would bother him in his office, bringing him his lunch that you oh so carefully packed in your pretty woven basket.  You would show up in your long flowy dresses that he liked to see.  It made you look like a real spouse and not just the Capitol socialite that cling to his arm during parties.

When you become intimate, you never let your lips touch.  You are always faced with such great disappointment.  He always pleases you good but there is nothing intimate about what you do. 

You cannot forget how he pushed you off like you burned him when you kissed his lips as you chased your carnal rapture.  His eyes were hard when he glared at you, a thousand of unspoken words being lashed at you with that single look. 

With shaking hands and a crumbling heart, you pull the blanket up to your chest to keep your modesty while he stalks off to a table in the corner of your room in the nude to gulp a glass of whiskey.

He never spoke nor looked at you for days after that.

You have come to understand that the marriage was just an agreement between Coriolanus Snow and your father, another ploy of your family to take power in Panem. 

You would not let them.

Coriolanus noticed how no more stories filled the warm morning air of your dining area upon breakfast.  Still, you offer him smiles when you do decide to talk.

Loving you is not and never was in the plan of your husband, you accept that now.  Still, you take care of him as you know that in his own way, he looks after you.

Your card is never empty no matter how mad your shopping spree was the day before.  The dining table is always filled with your favorite food.  Your home is decorated with your favorite colors.

Coriolanus wanted a First Lady, not a wife.

He chooses not to say anything when he finds you in his office one day, staring at the map of Panem, your eyes scanning over the borders of each District.  He stands by the doorway, your back to him.  

A small smile falls to his lips as he observes how you dolled yourself with your latest purchase.  A pretty white dress that suited you so well.

You grasp your hands behind you and you walk curiously to his bookshelf, hardbound books of various shades and thickness fill every space and he watches how your head tilts to the side, making your heavy gemmed hairpins wink under the sunlight.

Coriolanus heads to his desk quietly, only clearing his throat to announce his presence when he is seated.  He watches from the corner of his eyes how you jolt in surprise.  He almost felt bad.

“Looking for something, wife?”  He asks as he opens a letter.  He does not have to look at you to know that you are squirming from having been caught.

“Not really.  I am sorry for barging in.”  You laugh lightly to try and cut through the tension.  You know he does not like having anybody in his office.  Even if it was you.  “I was simply admiring your collection of books.”  That was a lie, they were all about the history of the leaders before your husband and battle strategies, you liked your books fiction.

He smiles briefly, it does not reassure your spirits but it was an attempt from him.  “Are you starting to get interested in politics?”

Your eyes widen as you laugh a little lighter.  “Gods, no.”  You hold your wrist behind you.  “I’m content with being the First Lady.”  You have enough on your plate.  Being a perfect companion to your husband, role model to the women of your great nation, and a daughter of your family.

“I thought you would be having tea with your mother today?”  Coriolanus glances at you and you press your lips to a thin line as you walk over to the couch and straighten up the throw pillows.

You take your time to answer, a small and gloomy smile on your lips.  “I decided not to come.”  You are not in the mood to feed your family information about your husband.  They were very good at it, extracting information from you without you doubting any ulterior motives behind them.  But you changed.

“Well, since you’re here.”  Coriolanus sits straighter in his chair and beckons you closer with a gentle tip of his head towards the seat in front of his desk.  You take it and you look at him with apprehension.  “Why don’t you help me decide a few things?”

Your brows immediately meet in concern.  “Oh.  No, Coriolanus.  I do not wish to overstep.”

He brings a hand up and you shut your lips.  “You are not overstepping.  I am asking for your advice.”

A gentle scoff escapes your smiling lips as you look at him with playful incredulity.  “Surely, I do not know more than you do.”

Coriolanus shrugs, he agrees to that to some extent.  “District 8 plans to discontinue producing Vicuña wool-”  You cut him off with a dramatic gasp.

“They cannot!”  You say in distress.

He leans on his chair to smile at you charmingly.  “Read their letter.”

You reluctantly take it.  Coriolanus watches how your lips form a pout, your eyebrows meeting as you huff, and your eyes dropping to the side in pity.

“Poor Vicuñas.”  You whisper as guilt and desire battle in your eyes.

“Do you support their decision?”  Coriolanus asks as he opens another letter.

“No.”  You immediately say, which piques his interest as he did not know you as someone who passes any opportunity to protect animal life.  “But perhaps we can put it to a pause?” 

You were begging him with those wide glassy eyes of yours as you continued.  “We can put the production to a halt for a few years to let the Vicuña population grow to a reasonable number and once they reach that, they will be shorn under strictly regulated conditions.”  You bite your lip.  “Vicuña wool has been a staple in the wardrobes of the Capitol women, it would cause an uproar if we shut down the productions for good.”

He stifles a laugh as you justify your disapproval.  You were about to continue when you saw the crinkle in his eyes, making you break into a small smile.

“I sound silly, don’t I?”

He shakes his head though he does not bother to hide his grin.  “Not at all.”

You groan as you place the letter firmly back on his desk.  “This is why I never want to get involved in politics.  I just embarrass myself.”  You say while standing up and smoothing out your dress, just to try and hide your flushed cheeks.

“No, no.”  Coriolanus walks over to you and cradles your face.  You still all your movements as you meet his eyes.  He seems to recover from his brief enjoyment and realizes what he has done.  You never know your husband to back down and he chooses to dig his heels right at this moment.  “You have made a brilliant point, wife.  I would have approached this issue with only one perspective, thank you for enlightening me.”  And to both your surprise he presses a soft kiss on your forehead.  You at his sudden display of affection and him for his lack of control of his own impulses.

Your hands grip his coat for support even as he parts from you.  For a moment, you held each other’s gaze, not quite wanting to break it as you know that once you do, whatever you have created between you will burst like a bubble.

“I-I’ll make us dinner.”  You smile shyly.  “There’s this dish I learned recently.”

He nods, a small smile still on his lips.  “I am looking forward to it.”

You smile back in response and reluctantly, you let go of each other.  Coriolanus clears his throat as he returns to his desk as you head towards the door.

“I’ll be joining you at seven.”

Glancing one last time from the door, you nod as you offer him your sweetest smile.

Coriolanus Snow swore to himself to never make the same mistake as to fall in love again.  But when you smile at him that way, he wonders how long he can keep his affections in check.

[pinkestlittlebutterfly]

Merry (late) Christmas to everyone and especially @revoleotion!! I am your Secret Santa this year and since I know your tastes so very well I made you the fluffiest, most tooth-rottingly sweet Lisono you have ever seen. Enjoy!!

(You can also read it here on AO3, if the format suits you better)

Lily is quite excited; so much so that he forgot to take off his Santa hat. 

Misono pauses halfway down the stairs to the front door, where his Servamp is waiting for him, and takes a moment to savour the sight. The little white pom pom dangling off that Santa hat’s tip is bobbing up and down as Lily bounces on his feet; and the man is grinning much like a schoolgirl about to have her first date, giddy in a way that is almost childish. 

It’s cute; and flattering considering this is far from their first date. It’s not even their first Christmas date. They’ve had one every year since Misono discovered the shocking truth behind the big, bearded man bringing his gifts every year; one Christmas Eve when he was sixteen or seventeen and caught his Servamp in the act of taking off his fake beard, very nearly causing the first heart attack in Lily’s long, immortal life with his cry of outrage. 

(He never told Lily it was fake; that he knew long before that night. He deserves a secret of his own, he thinks, and it’s a nice one to keep. It would have been cruel to deny Lily the comfort of this familiar ritual right after the war, after so many things in their lives had already changed, so he played along for a few more Christmas Eves before ripping off the bandaid, making room to find new rituals, for a new love in a new time.)

“Do you need a few more minutes to get out of character?” He asks as he approaches his Servamp. Lily looks confused for a second but lowers his head obediently when Misono reaches up, allowing him to pull off the hat. 

“Oh my,” He says and chuckles, taking it from his Eve to stuff it into the closest cabinet, where the children currently enjoying their brand new, Santa-chosen toys somewhere in the house won’t find it. “I am inconsolable, my love, my excitement must have gotten the better of me.”

“Your age is getting to you,” Misono tells him, slipping into the coat his Servamp holds open for him, turning so he can button it up for his Eve, as he loves to do. “One day you’re going to get caught by someone who won’t be quite as forgiving as me.” 

“I will simply have to take the risk.” Lily’s sigh ghosts down the not-yet-buttoned collar of Misono’s coat, caressing his skin softly. “I can hardly think straight at the prospect of spending this night with you, my love, but I wouldn’t give it up for the world.” 

“You’re a flirt and a tease, Lily,” Misono says. But he won’t even act as though Lily’s flirting doesn’t do it for him, and he quite likes the triumphant grin with which his Servamp cups his blushing cheek, so he kisses him anyways.

---

Lily is quite excited; and Misono knows exactly why. 

They planned on taking the train into town, as Dodo prefers to spend Christmas Eve getting drunk on eggnog. Lily walks nice and slow for his Eve as they make their way through the snow to the station, but there’s a bounce to his step that betrays how very badly he would like to break into a sprint. Misono grabs his arm, tethering him to his side, and Lily grins at him from somewhere beyond his three metre alpaca wool scarf. 

Lily is a romantic at heart. He’s always been, no matter how hard he tried to deny it in the past. Lily loves love and Lily loves loving in a way that is grand and beautiful and blatant like that in the romance movies he makes Misono watch every December weekend. He loves flower bouquets and matching jewellery and pillow talk at midnight and kisses under mistletoes and every other romantic cliché in the book. And he loves being loved like that in turn, in a way that is undisguised and unconcealed and impossible to mistake for anything else. 

Certainly, there’s more to this – hidden little truths to decipher when cooped up in their bedroom, with one another’s comfort close. But for tonight, there’s no need to think about it too deeply. It’s simply part of who Lily is, who he has become with Misono by his side – when they first went out on Christmas Eve, to calm both of them down after the shocking revelation of Santa’s true nature, he nearly cried with joy wandering beneath Tokyo’s gorgeous canvas of Christmas lights; and in the end Misono found it impossible to deny him when he begged to do it again next year. 

Not that he would ever want to deny him. A walk beneath the Christmas lights, food and wine at the Christmas market, a night spent in a five star hotel booked months in advance are classic and cliché and thus, quite perfect in his book. They find free seats on the train and sit close to one another; and Lily rests his head on top of Misono’s and hums a joyful little tune. 

As they come closer to their destination, thick snowflakes begin falling beyond the train windows, a thousand little white gems against the darkened cityscape, adding onto the thick, fluffy blanket already carpeting gardens and rooftops and trees in the parks rushing by underneath them. 

“Look at that,” Misono says, nudging Lily, who is so busy burying his face in his Eve’s hair he probably has no idea what’s going on around them. “We’re having a white Christmas, what a terrible cliché.”

“You’re so brave for bearing all that kitsch, my love,” Lily says, positively trembling with excitement. 

Misono keeps watching him as they leave the train and spot the Christmas market just beyond the platform; a sight like what would be expected from the front page of a travel magazine Christmas special. Little wooden huts stand in neat rows, their little roofs covered in snow as though they’re puff cakes doused in powdered sugar, and framed with warm white fairy lights. Happy couples meander in between, and the air is ripe with their chatter, and heavy with the scent of spiced wine and cinnamon and sugar. And above it all, dangling off facades and spanning between houses, swaying gently in the wind as they cast gentle, warm light upon the glittering snow, like a night sky crowded with a million stars, there are more Christmas lights, utterly picturesque and almost too delightful to bear. 

Lily takes the sight in with stars in his eyes. It reminds Misono of the pictures Yamane took of him when he was younger and got his first look at a festively decorated Christmas tree; wide-eyed and so full of awe it’s almost jarring in the face of a vampire who has seen hundreds of winters before.

“How utterly scenic,” Misono says; sarcasm with no real bite. Truly, he could watch his Servamp smile at this idyll all day long. 

Still, when Lily turns and looks at him instead to smile even wider, he can’t help but blush. 

---

Lily is quite excited, which is understandable because Misono just told him they should look for their Christmas dinner. 

They’ve been wandering the Christmas market for half an hour or so now, hand in hand, taking in every picturesque detail. There’s fir trees in between the booths, decked out in silver and gold. There’s happily crackling fires over which meat and salmon are roasted. There’s lametta-adorned speakers blaring Christmas carols, and a gaggle of children laughing over some holiday-themed festival game, a giant Christmas pyramid slowly spinning at the market centre and happy, eggnog-sated couples taking selfies at its feet. 

There’s a lot of food, too, most of which they could never get from the Alicein kitchens. Christmas market meals have no obligation to be healthy, which makes them all the more enticing. 

“Misono.” 

Lily’s hands land on his shoulder with the weight of a very important discovery, and Misono stands at attention. 

“They have whole cheese wheels over there.” 

That is important indeed, so they go check it out at once. 

The cheese wheels, as it turns out, are for making pasta within, which is exciting enough for Misono to buy two bowls, even though the amount of cream poured over them is slightly worrying. It’s delicious; rich and flavourful and so creamy it sticks to his lips for Lily to wipe off with his thumb and a warm, indulgent smile on his face. 

It’s also way too much for him. But he has a Servamp willing to eat anything as long as it is from his Eve’s hands, and Misono feeds him the rest of his pasta as they wander on, looking for stollen or churros or maybe a crepe. 

It’s disgustingly cute. But he has come to enjoy disgustingly cute; at least once a year. 

---

Lily is quite excited. It looks gorgeous on him. 

They shared a cup of spiced wine; and it has painted his cheeks a lovely red and Misono’s vision a bit more rosy. He doesn’t contemplate his Servamp’s beauty very often – it’s a sight that has been present in his life since he could think, and it is as normal to him as every other part of who Lily is. But sometimes, all it takes is a few sips of warm alcohol and he can’t take his eyes off the man anymore. 

Lily looks so soft beneath the night sky of twinkling Christmas lights, their warm glow mirrored in the red of his eyes and catching in the loose strands of hair framing his face, making the snowflakes caught in them twinkle like diamonds. At some point his scarf came loose to flounce and dance around him as he pulls his partner through the twilight of the Christmas market, looping around his long legs whenever he turns to look at Misono. 

It all pales in comparison to his smile. God, he is so happy. He is happy to be here and excited for every little bit of it, and Misono can’t get enough of the sight. 

“Lily,” He says. Lily stops and turns to him, just in time to catch him in his arms. 

Misono looks up at him. They found themselves a little opening in the tightly packed market, a little square above which the strings of Christmas lights converge in a glittering canvas of twinkling stars. Lily looks like an angel, framed by their glow. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Misono tells him. 

Lily looks close to tears. Misono knows there’s no one else in this world who could bring out such a look in him, no one else in whose attention Lily revels quite this much. 

But he doesn’t cry. He just cups Misono’s cheeks, and kisses him, right underneath the Christmas lights. 

And if it was a romance movie, it couldn’t be more perfect. 

---

Lily is quite excited. The closer they get to their hotel, the greater his anticipation grows. 

It’s a different kind of excitement now. Less giddy, not one that shows in the bounce of his steps, his giggles, his wide, fanged grin. It’s quiet and confident. It’s a hand on Misono’s shoulder as he checks them in, an arm around his waist in the elevator. It’s in how he wordlessly takes their bags so Misono can unlock their room, in how he holds the door for him and locks it behind them. 

It’s in how he turns to Misono when his name is softly called and gives in to the gentle tug of his Eve’s fingers burying in the collar of his coat, pulling him down. In the hitch of his breath, the tremble of his lips before Misono presses his own against them once more, in how easily they part for him. In how he whispers “I love you” as they part. In how he’s so confident to hear it back but still blushes softly as Misono mutters “I love you too”. 

Perhaps this is the most romantic thing of them all, Misono thinks as Lily’s hands settle on his chest to work open the buttons of his coat, as his own respond in kind, slowly doing away with the layer of thick cloth separating them. That Lily is so sure of his love now. That in the comfort of each other, the small acts of love have become as undisguised and unconcealed and unmistakable as the big ones; that Lily is excited for him in the way he is for coming home. 

That he can give him what no beautiful and blatant movie romance in this world could achieve, in this moment that’s small and soft and unassuming and for no one but the two of them. 

Thank you for reading!! And finally, thank you to @animes-trash for organising the event again

[fundielicious-simblr]

(Kyleigh's POV)(Summary: Where we last left off, Barrett and Kyleigh are expecting their 12th child, the seasons have just changed to winter, and the next big event is Celeste's wedding - Family tree for reference)

This pregnancy is going well, and for that we thank the Lord! Sometimes I feel this little one kick and I have to say a prayer of thanks that this is going to be the 12th little blessing that the Lord has thought us worthy of receiving. I've been seeing my doctor more often this pregnancy due to the risks of preeclampsia that showed up when I was pregnant with Jackson, they're also still monitoring me for gestational diabetes and have got me on the same workout plan just so that the risk is lowered. Since we already took a family picture at Harvestfest, we decided to add in a picture of this pregnancy to our family christmas card so that this little one is acknowledged. It also serves as an announcement to those of our friends and family who haven't heard the news.

The kids are faithfully doing school as we head into the winter, but they've been counting down the days until we travel to visit my parents. They get a bit of school free time when we go visit my parents, especially around the immediate holiday season when we're visiting and fellowshipping with various friends and family. They've been working on their usual scripture memory with an additional set of scripture that they'll recite during the christmas service at my parents church. The older kids have been dedicated with reading and memorising their verses, since they don't attend the sunday school class at my parents church regularly, they want to be on the same level as the kids that they'll be presenting with.

Little Jackson is growing ever more by the day! He's made a lot of progress and hit his milestones quite quickly, wanting to play with the other kids has him pushing himself to do more faster. He's mastered crawling, but now we're slowly practicing walking. His birthday is coming up before this new little one gets here, and even though he's the 12th child in the lineup, having them grow up and progress does bring a tear to my eye.

We've had dustings of snow, so the kids get to go out if they've finished their schoolwork and their chores for the day. Violet and Olivia have gotten quite close recently, Olivia turns 6 next year and will officially join the older kids in the school classroom. That will make it 8 kids that are actively being homeschooled! People always ask me how we deal with homeschooling so many children, and I have to say that it gets easier the more students there are! I sit with the kids and we have focus time, and I've grouped them together so theres no more than 3 in each round. That way we get all the difficult bits handled before I leave them to finish their work and do their assigned reading.

We love when the aunties come over! All 3 girls happened to be in town and have a free afternoon (Ashton was in Windenburg with Amira and her family after Harvestfest, Amira chose to come into town early for the wedding), so they stopped over and had some playtime in the snow with the kids before they took the a few back to the big house for music lessons. Having a big family is such a blessing, these girls are keeping themselves busy in the season of life that they're in that I'm so grateful that they still prioritise coming to see their nieces and nephews. With Celeste's wedding happening very shortly, we're about to have almost all our family in town again - praise the Lord!

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

I can see Spider being taken to the Capitol and tortured like Peeta was in Hunger Games 3, it reminds me of Spider being interrogated by Ardmore.

Hey everybody remember the Hunger Games Au i wrote up back in November? I needed to watch the final movie but then I got bronchitis (that took me two months to recover from) and it was also Christmas at the time and I really didn't feel like watching the child murder movies. But I never forgot about this and I finally got around to watching the final movie! So without further ado let's wrap this up.

To the question of what Spider and Kiri would have shown off in individual training, I feel like Kiri would have purposely tanked her's just for fun not even for strategy. She'd see the whole thing as stupid plus she knows her abilities so she's got nothing to prove. the gamemakers though can see what shes doing and give her a 9 to make her more of a target. I can see Spider pulling a Katniss and shooting an arrow right at the gamemakers to make them pay attention then bowing out. Quaritch is only half pissed at him. The other part is so proud. He's even more proud when Spider is awarded an 11.

In interviews they're both just kinda dicks lol. Spider taunts the whole crowd, talks mad shit on Snow, and heckles the fuck out of Flickerman. Kiri is similar just way more sarcastic and petty. So Snow was definitely super pissed when these two won the game.

Moving on to the ending.

I've tossed around a lot of idea's in my head for who gets captured and I had almost settled on it being Neytiri, Ronal and Paz, but that was mainly because I didn't want to hurt any of the kids especially Spider (I hurt that kid enough in Cabin and all I want is good things for him. I really dont want to hurt the moms either or anybody for that matter but this is a Hunger Games au) And yeah it does match actual Avatar canon to have Spider be one of the ones captured so that's what happens. Neytiri and Aonung are also captured.

The families are all incredibly distraught. Paz has a full on meltdown the moment she wakes up in recovery and is told the terrible news. It's her worst nightmare come to life and she completely blames herself for it. Quaritch, who's already inwardly losing his shit over his son but trying to keep it together, internally breaks seeing his wife like that because he's never seen her break before. After Paz is sedated Quaritch goes off to be alone. Spider's capture cases a real strain on their relationship because neither knows how to comfort or emotionally support the other. Paz is so guilt ridden that she doesn't want to be anywhere near her husband feeling intense shame when ever he looks at her. Quaritch doesn't blame her for Spider's capture. He blames himself for not volunteering in his son's place the day of the reaping. the only thing they can manage to do together is plan on saving their son.

Ronal also blames herself for her son's capture but she buries it deep under a wildfire determination to get him back. Tonowari of course wants Aonung back too and is just as determined, he just advocates that they be calm and level headed about their recuse so that they don't lose anyone else.

Jake hasn't felt this powerless in years. He wants to storm the Capital single handed to get his wife back but no one will let him leave. They all look down on him for being in a wheelchair and forget that he was a victor in the Hunger Games once. That he trained his children to be warriors while being paralyzed. But no matter how much he advocates for himself it just falls on the deaf ears of district 13's president. Who i decided is not Grace but General Ardmore.

Ardmore rules over district 13 in a strict but seemingly fair manner. And she is a pretty good leader. She's just extremely power hunger. I'm going to say Ian Garvin is the Heavensbee of this au. He sees right through Ardmore but he does need her to win the war. It's him that convinces her to let Jake, Ronal, Tonowari, Quaritch and Paz into her war room. Jake impresses her with his war strategies ( Don't worry Jake doesn't come up with Gale's plan. That's all Ardmore) and quickly becomes the lead strategist of her army. Tonowari and Quaritch are on the frontlines. They try to convince Ronal and Paz to stay back but Paz brushes them off with a bitter, "I have nothing left to lose," and Ronal snaps, "i will fight!"

The Capital starts airing interviews with their clearly brainwashed hostages. Paz's shriek silences the entire cafetiere when she sees her son on the t.v. His wild mane of curls now fall neatly around his chin, brushed out of his face like a perfect little gentleman. It shows off how sunken his cheeks have gotten. how hollow and dead his eyes looks. His once tan skin is now pale, made to look even paler by the snow white suite they've dressed him to hide his thin frame. "what would you like to say to your friends and family right now Spider?" "Kiri? Mama? Dad?," Quaritch is trying to hold Paz up as she openly sobs for her child for all of district 13 to see, "please stop. This isn't you. Your good people that would never betray the country. Just stop fighting and come home please."

Aonung get's the exact same treatment dresses up and paraded around on t.v like the Capital's little pet, begging his mom and dad to surrender. Ronal cracked a tooth from clenching her jaw so hard in rage and Tonowari put a hole in the wall when no one was looking.

Neytiri is also brought out, her braids are taken out, hair straightened within an inch of its life. she's dressed in a tasteful white cocktail dress, with a white rose tucked behind her right ear. when she's asked "what would you like to say to your husband right now." She says, "my Jake," there's a long pause, a whole war going on behind her amber eyes before she finally chokes out, "end them." the broadcast instantly cuts off.

And the kids in all this? Since I don't really have a mockingjay singled out among the bunch, I'm gonna say they're all kinda the mockingjay. They're the kids who survived. The ones who have to now live with the horrors inflicted on them by the capital. As I was typing this I actually thought it'd fit Neteyam to make a shrine for one of his competitors like Katniss did for Rue. He bonded with a little girl that was Lo'ak's age at the time but reminded him a lot of Tuk. When she died it was like he could see both of his siblings dying with her and it utterly gutted him. He honored her in front of all of Panem and for it everyone loves him.

Kiri is beloved for her definice. It inspires so many others to stand up and fight.

Lo'ak feels ashamed for what happened to his mother and is very candid about it. He talks openly about how he felt so inadequate compared to his "hero" parents and brother. But he understands now that underneath all the pageantry and splendor of the Capital is a absolutely vile core that needs to be ripped out so that they all can finally know peace.

Tsireya is a medic in this like Prim was. Her and Lo'ak start up a romance because they trauma bond over a family member being held hostage.

Tuk is there but she's just too little to really do anything.

And finally Grace in all this plays a similar roll as the mayor from district 8. She just had this lightbulb moment after having Kiri that her daughter would never know peace as long as there tyrannical government stayed in power. She wanted to take Kiri with her but she got word that a sickness was spreading through 13 that was killing all the children. Kiri and her have a lot to work through but Kiri doesn't get angry with Grace for wanting to fight for a better world. Kiri still grew up healthy and happy with her adopted family and soon all of them would be able to live freely and safely in the world they'll create.

Finally the opportunity arrives to save the hostages. Norm is able to hack the system giving a volunteer strike team an opening. the team is made up of Quaritch, Paz, Ronal, Tonowari and Neteyam. It goes off without a hitch. I want to say that unlike in the movie/book where Snow actually just let them go that in this au the strike team was actually just that good and got in and out without anyone noticing. The families all hold each other all the way home the only sounds coming from their cries of relief.

Also none of them are brainwashed to try and kill a loved one. They are severely traumatized though. Their tortures goes as follows and you can skip to the next paragraph if you’d rather not read this. Spider was made to see horrific fantasies under trackerjacker venom to the point where it’s hard for him to tell what’s real anymore. He’s jittery and anxious all the time and panics easily. He flinches if someone raises a hand too fast and that includes his own parents who are both devastated for their son and enraged that the capital would hurt their boy so badly he couldn’t even trust his own mom and dad anymore. Kiri helps Spider through it playing “real or not real,” something she tells Quaritch and Paz about to better manage Spiders dissociative episodes when she’s not around. Aonung was given electric shocks in water now making him fear it. Even seeing a few drops of water is enough to make him shake. This hurts his whole family to see since the ocean is the core of there cultural identity. Ronal and Tonowari want to burn the entire capital down to nothing for the crime against humanity they’ve inflicted on their son. It takes so much time but his parents and sister start with coaching Aonung through the breathing mediation he’d do as a small child when he was first learning to swim putting his mind at ease by reciting the way of water with him. Once he doesn’t freak out seeing so much as a cup of water they slowly get him to interact with it again first with a very shallow bath (basically a puddle) building until his family is lovingly coaxing him into a pool. He panics at first but swimming is like breathing to him and surrounded by so much love and support he eventually calms. Neytiri was given a drug that made the simplest touch feel like excruciating pain. She knows it was just the chemicals they pumped into her veins but she can’t help but flinch every time one of her children hugs her, her breath catching in her throat. She puts on a brave face and holds her children despite how much it makes her heart race. The only one she talks about this with is Jake. They do their own form of real or not real where he’ll brush his fingertips over her arm so so gently he’s almost not touching her at all and ask, “pain or no pain,” until Neytiri can retrain her mind to not associate every minor touch with pain.

After they take time to recover it’s decided that a strike team will be sent out to assassinat Snow. There’s no way in hell any of the parents will let there kids go on this mission so it’s all the adults. Maybe it's just because I love all these characters and don’t want to kill them off but I’m going to say they’re all so good that they outmaneuver every capital trap and survive Ardmore’s bombing of civilians but if I was going to kill people off here's how I’d do it…

Tonowari meets the same fate as Boggs killed in a trap.

Quaritch is overwhelmed by mutts like Finnick was. Paz shoots him herself to put him out of his misery

Neteyam is killed in the second wave of bombings. He snuck out of 13 with the medics because he wanted to give aid to the civilians hurt in the war.

I also had the very evil idea of Neteyam getting sent to the group like Peeta was for some reason, and him being injured in the same trap that killed Tonowari and Neytiri staying with him while the rest move on only for them both to die when the building their hiding in is bombed and then Tsireya dies trying to give medical aid to civilians but good god is that devastating for me to think about.

But it’s a good thing none of that happens! So Ardmore gathers all the past hunger games victors to discuss Snow’s public execution and to float the idea of a hunger games with the capitals children. They are all equally horrified because they’ve all been through so much and just want peace. The kids all speak out but the parents stay quiet all silently thinking the same thing. This bitch has got to go.

All the victors are lined up with bows and arrows to execute Snow in front of the whole country. Only half of the arrows pierce him though. They other half sail right into Ardmore’s chest. Grace is later elected president. Kiri is constantly going from the Sully’s place to Grace’s to Spider’s. Spider and his parents live in a cottage in a peaceful meadow where he continues his recover. His mom is kind of smothering now still recovering from the trauma of losing her son but he knows it’s all love. When he’s in a better place he decides to travel and see the new world. Ronal and Tonowari are surprised to learn they’re expecting but it’s a happy surprise. They can’t wait to bring their third into a peaceful world. Tsireya continues her medical training and Aonung becomes a sailor. He just feels at peace out on the ocean. Jake is basically Graces Vice President and Neytiri is basically the secretary of infrastructure working to rebuild every district. Neteyam, Lo’ak, and Kiri are the leads on construction on a memorial for all the children slaughtered in the games. Everyone is their on opening day. It’s seeing the memorial that really brings peace to all of them. It’s not only a testament to those killed, but a marker that all the horror is now over.

Hope you all enjoyed the long awaited part 2! I’d love to know your thoughts 💙

[thelustybraavosimaid]

Hey! i wanted to know about your thoughts about how Jon would be like post-resurrection with the time skip grrm originally considered?

So that really took hold of me for the first three books. When it became apparent that that had taken hold of me, I came up with the idea of the five-year gap. "Time is not passing here as I want it to pass, so I will jump forward five years in time." And I will come back to these characters when they're a little more grown up. And that is what I tried to do when I started writing Feast for Crows. So [the gap] would have come after A Storm of Swords and before Feast for Crows. But what I soon discovered — and I struggled with this for a year — [the gap] worked well with some characters like Arya — who at end the of Storm of Swords has taken off for Braavos. You can come back five years later, and she has had five years of training and all that. Or Bran, who was taken in by the Children of the Forest and the green ceremony, [so you could] come back to him five years later. That’s good. Works for him. Other characters, it didn’t work at all. I'm writing the Cersei chapters in King's Landing, and saying, "Well yeah, in five years, six different guys have served as Hand and there was this conspiracy four years ago, and this thing happened three years ago." And I'm presenting all of this in flashbacks, and that wasn't working. The other alternative was [that] nothing happened in those five years, which seemed anticlimactic. The Jon Snow stuff was even worse, because at the end of Storm he gets elected Lord Commander. I'm picking up there, and writing "Well five years ago, I was elected Lord Commander. Nothing much has happened since then, but now things are starting to happen again." I finally, after a year, said "I can't make this work."

George R. R. Martin — The Complete Unedited Interview

You know, this is something that I haven't really thought about. I only haven't thought about it because there's something we just don't know: when was George planning to kill Jon with the gap in place? A year or two into the skip? Later? Earlier, or even after the skip, when he's had a few years of rule under his belt? It's probably more likely that it was going to happen after the skip, so I think the end result would be the same as the current book!Jon.

We know that death changes a character to the point where in some ways, they're not that character anymore:

And as I got older and considered it more, it also seemed to me that death doesn’t make you more powerful. That’s, in some ways, me talking to Tolkien in the dialogue, saying, “Yeah, if someone comes back from being dead, especially if they suffer a violent, traumatic death, they’re not going to come back as nice as ever.”

George R. R. Martin on the One Game of Thrones Change He ‘Argued Against’

And we have this, from Varamyr Sixskins:

"They say you forget," Haggon had told him, a few weeks before his own death. "When the man's flesh dies, his spirit lives on inside the beast, but every day his memory fades, and the beast becomes a little less a warg, a little more a wolf, until nothing of the man is left and only the beast remains." (Prologue, ADwD)

Jon's connection to Ghost takes the front seat in ADwD, so we have moments like this:

Jon expected hot mulled wine, and was surprised to find that it was soup, a thin broth that smelled of leeks and carrots but seemed to have no leeks or carrots in it. The smells are stronger in my wolf dreams, he reflected, and food tastes richer too. Ghost is more alive than I am. He left the empty cup upon the forge. (Jon II, ADwD)

--

He was walking beneath the shell of the Lord Commander's Tower, past the spot where Ygritte had died in his arms, when Ghost appeared beside him, his warm breath steaming in the cold. In the moonlight, his red eyes glowed like pools of fire. The taste of hot blood filled Jon's mouth, and he knew that Ghost had killed that night. No, he thought. I am a man, not a wolf. He rubbed his mouth with the back of a gloved hand and spat. (Jon III, ADwD)

--

Jon smelled Tom Barleycorn before he saw him. Or was it Ghost who smelled him? Of late, Jon Snow sometimes felt as if he and the direwolf were one, even awake. The great white wolf appeared first, shaking off the snow. A few moments later Tom was there.

...

The shield that guards the realms of men. Ghost nuzzled up against his shoulder, and Jon draped an arm around him. He could smell Horse's unwashed breeches, the sweet scent Satin combed into his beard, the rank sharp smell of fear, the giant's overpowering musk. He could hear the beating of his own heart. (Jon VII, ADwD)

So ultimately, I think the five year skip!Jon would have the same outcome as the Jon we have in the books: a little ruthless, a little different, and far more closer to Ghost.

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

Where the Love-light Gleams

read on ao3

12 Days OL Ficmas 2022

I'll be home for Christmas;

You can plan on me.

Please have snow and mistletoe

And presents on the tree.

Christmas eve will find me

Where the love-light gleams.

I'll be home for Christmas

If only in my dreams.

 ----------

“Mam? Mama?”

Claire groaned. “Go back to sleep.”

It was Brianna’s voice from the other side of the bed. It was always Brianna who woke up first, but it was Faith who had tucked herself so close to Claire during the night that she’d had hardly any space. Claire felt a twinge in her neck when she shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable with an entire four-and-a-half-year-old still stuck to her like glue.

Half-asleep and reluctant to rise, Faith tried to burrow into her, as if they weren’t close enough as it was. Claire gave in and wrapped her arms around the girl, cuddling her as close as she could.

“Mama?” Bree again. Claire heard the blankets rustling and then her voice was much closer. “Mam?”

Claire could hear the smile in Brianna’s voice and some of her usual morning gruffness melted away. She cracked one eye open to see her baby’s soft smile turn dazzlingly bright as soon as she caught Claire’s gaze.

God, they were so sweet and endearing when ruining her sleep — and if Jamie were here, he would’ve played the part of the buffer, especially with Bree, and Claire wouldn’t even be tempted to boot the children out of their bed just to sleep a little longer.

That Jamie wasn’t here was the only reason she’d let them stay, though…

“Me too,” Brianna was saying, moving to wedge herself between Claire and Faith, to squish herself into the cuddling. Claire held that sweet, smiling face in her hand and playfully pushed her back. Brianna landed in the middle of the bed in a burst of giggles, and Faith let out a loud huff against Claire.

Brianna curled up on the other side of Faith, and Claire’s hand became trapped with Bree, arm draped over both girls and held tight by the two-year-old like she was cuddling one of her dolls. And for a moment, at least, there was blissful stillness. Maybe that was all her tiny girl had needed — a comforting touch to settle her back down.

She tucked Faith’s head under her chin and sighed.

Christmas Eve.

Jamie and Fergus were supposed to be home a week ago by Jamie’s estimate. He had promised to be home in time for Christmas and he only had the day left to prove himself a man of his word.

The ever-present dread squeezed around her heart like a vise. If there was one thing in this world she could depend on, it was Jamie keeping his word, she reminded herself.

Unless something had happened. A sudden lump rose in her throat.

Come home to me, James Fraser…

  ----------

  “Promise me you’ll come home to me, James Fraser. Before Christmas.”

Not for the first time, his wife’s words on the day they parted flitted through his mind. And he had promised. Of course he had. Their lives were tied now with the cycles of the earth — a vineyard was run much like a farm, he was learning — and so Jamie wouldn’t have been able to visit Jared during the fall harvesting. It had seemed the most feasible to go up to Paris on business matters between Brianna’s birthday and Christmas — and it had been feasible at the start. No one could have foreseen the unheard-of amount of snow that delayed Jamie and Fergus from starting their return home. Nor would Claire and Murtagh have caught wind of the storm; it wouldn’t have reached that far south, he was sure.

There was nothing Jamie and Fergus could do but try and make up the time as they traveled as fast as they could.

Even then, at the outset of their journey, Jamie hadn’t been too worried. As long as they traveled steadily each day, keeping a good pace, they would make it home in time.

He should have known that being on the road was never that simple.

  ----------

  “Mama?” Faith tugged on her skirts, playing the part of an ever-present reminder for why Claire couldn’t stay in her mind all day, eyes glued to the horizon outside the window. It was Christmas Eve and the girls were excited for it, looking to Claire to lead them through the usual merry-making. After all, she was the keeper of family traditions for this holiday, wasn’t she?

“What is it?”

“This stocking has a hole in it.” Faith held it up for her mother to see. “I can’t use it for Christmas.”

“Then why did you choose that one?”

Faith ducked her chin towards her chest. “I dinnae ken,” she said, in her own softened dialect that was not quite Scottish nor British, but something of her own, a gentle melding of the two.

“It’s alright, just go pick out one without a hole in it,” Claire instructed her, struggling to keep the laughter out of her voice. Faith promptly headed up the stairs, leaving Claire to watch her go, lips twitching into a wry smile.

The back door through the kitchen banged open, and Claire’s heart leapt at the sound. It was only Murtagh, coming back with fresh-caught game for their supper, but he seemed to understand it wasn’t that Claire was disappointed to see him, only hoping it meant Jamie and Fergus had returned.

She had asked Murtagh, only once, if he would head out in search of them, in case they were in danger, but hadn’t been surprised when Murtagh stubbornly refused to leave Claire and the girls alone when Jamie had entrusted them to his care.

These damn Fraser men and their promises. She had a pit in her stomach worrying over them — because the only reason Jamie might break a promise would mean that something had happened…

“Mama!”

“Not one minute to myself,” she muttered under her breath, earning a snort from Murtagh, and moved towards the stairs. “What is it, my love?”

She met Faith in the hallway, the girl holding a new stocking in hand. Faith sighed loudly, the embodiment of an eighty-year-old who’d run out of patience. “Bree won’t pick a stocking for the fireplace, she’s just trying to put all of them on.”

Sure enough, Brianna sat in the center of the rug, a small pile of stockings beside her. She wasn’t so much trying all of them on as she was tugging them halfway on — the best her fine motor skills could manage — and then abandoning that effort to start on the other foot. Brianna had her tongue pushed out to one corner of her mouth in a sign of concentration, but when she noticed Claire standing in the doorway, she broke into a grin and kicked her feet in the air with her floppy, half-on stockings dangling at the ends.

“What are you doing, silly girl?”

She knelt next to Brianna and pulled the mismatched stockings off, refitted her with the stockings she’d dressed the girl in this morning, and helped her choose one for the mantel from what was left.

Claire remembered, as she did every Christmas now, the joy of helping the children hang their stockings by the fire for that first Christmas at Lallybroch. Faith had been such a tiny thing, only seven months old, but Fergus and wee Jamie and even little Maggie had taken part. She missed Jamie’s family always, but felt the distance from Lallybroch more acutely at Christmas. That time had been so dear to her, that first holiday as parents, building family traditions with their children as well as Jenny and Ian’s. They had thought back then that there would be a lifetime yet of Lallybroch Christmases. Instead, they’d only had the one.

She hefted Brianna onto her hip and checked with Faith that she’d found a stocking without a hole in it before they made their way downstairs together. It was a quieter affair now, hanging stockings with the two little ones, but Claire thought of wee Jamie, Maggie, Kitty, and the twins she longed to meet someday, and hoped they knew they had an auntie across the channel missing them dearly.

It was joyous and tender still, with Faith and Brianna. And that was something she and Jamie had fought tooth and nail to have, after all — a peaceful life with their wee Fraser clan. And it was good, it was so, so good; they didn’t take it for granted, even when they grieved the life they thought they might have had at Lallybroch. Even while they missed the boisterous family gatherings this time of year. It was enough to be together and raise their children in the relative calm of the countryside.

“Will Father Christmas really come here tonight?” Faith checked, brows furrowed with concern. It was the first year that any of the meaning behind their traditions was sinking in for her, and Claire had already answered an abundance of questions for her.

“Yes, but only once you’ve gone to sleep.” Claire brushed some of the wispy curls from the girl’s face and bent to kiss her forehead. “And in the morning, there will be all sorts of treats and little gifts in your stocking.”

“And presents?” Her gaze shifted to their tree in the corner of the room.

“Presents from family under the tree, yes,” Claire assured her, feeling a slight wave of panic for a different reason. She had some small, handmade things for the girls, but since they’d known Jamie would be in Paris before Christmas, he’d been tasked with finding a nice gift for each of the children while he was there. If Jamie didn’t make it home in time before Christmas, neither would the gifts. It wouldn't be the end of the world, she knew, but it would be hard for the girls to understand without giving them cause for worry.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she forced a smile for Faith and caressed her cheek. “Are you excited?”

Faith took a deep breath, weighing her feelings in that moment. “So excited, Mama, I dinnae think I can sleep!”

Claire exhaled a soft laugh. “Well, you better sleep, if you want Father Christmas to come here after all.”

“I will!” Faith vowed. “If I cannae, I will just squeeze my eyes shut like this and pretend,” she said, demonstrating how she would trick Father Christmas, if needed.

“Suppose that will work,” Claire indulged her with a laugh.

The first year that Faith was truly excited for Christmas… and Jamie was missing it. And he wasn’t the only one, either.

“Hey, lovey,” Claire began softly to her oldest girl, “your brother will need his own stocking for Father Christmas, too. Why don’t you run up to his room and grab one for him?”

Faith took off like a shot, not needing to be asked twice. She paused at the foot of the stairs, though, and turned back to Claire, brows furrowed again. “Fergus and Da will be home soon?” she checked.

Claire took a sharp breath in, feeling that vise coil tighter in her chest. “Soon.”

  ----------

 He could hear Fergus’s loud tread on the earth before he looked up from the fire he’d built and spotted the boy’s silhouette against a dusk winter sky. It wasn’t that Fergus was usually heavy-footed; when he dumped an armload of firewood at Jamie’s feet without a word and slunk over to his bedding, it was quite obvious to Jamie that the boy was brooding.

“Thank ye, mon fils.”

Fergus grunted in acknowledgement.

“Is that all for supper?”

Jamie gave the rabbit he’d caught an appraising look. “Aye,” he sighed. “Unless ye saw any of those wee plants yer ma says are safe to eat.”

“It was too dark by the time we made camp,” Fergus said rather pointedly. “We should have stopped sooner.”

“We’re short on daylight this time of year as it is, lad. Have to make every use of it that we can.”

“We should have tried to shoot that buck we saw earlier in the day.”

Jamie inhaled sharply, a ready defense on the tip of his tongue — the same one he’d given earlier to Fergus — but thought better about taking the bait. Fergus was frustrated, tired, and hungry. He understood that; he was all those things as well.

Fergus, though, didn’t need Jamie’s response to unload the rest of his complaints. “We should not be starving ourselves, driving the horses on hardly any sleep — and too fast at the start for the wagon to handle. That’s why it broke, you know.”

Jamie rolled his jaw. He did know — and now instead of trying to make up their time and still arrive the week before Christmas, they were already behind with a wagon that couldn’t take much jostling without risk of losing a whole wheel, and they were just trying to make it home at all.

By Christmas, still. It had to be by Christmas for his wife’s sake as well as his own.

“We should not be killing ourselves out here,” Fergus muttered. “And for what? Why could we not take our time? It’s only a day, and we could tell les petits that it’s Christmas whenever we return.”

“For Christ’s sake, d’ye no’ think that yer mother’s worrit sick every day that we don’t return?” Jamie snapped. “Have ye not thought of her in all of this? Or only of yer own discomfort?”

Fergus went quiet.

“I gave her my word,” he said in a much gentler tone. “I ken ye want to rest and go easy along the way, but we’ve lost too much time. I cannae put her through more than I already have.”

The fire cast a warm glow on Fergus’s anguished face. Jamie felt his heart squeeze in his chest. “I’m sorry, a balach. I should have made ye stay at home.”

Fergus wiped his nose on his sleeve, his expression hardening. “You would not have been able to manage this journey without me,” the boy said plainly, and Jamie knew there was truth to that. Even that aside, he didn’t know what it was like anymore to walk through life without his own son at his side, eager to learn, to prove himself a man. Aye, and at thirteen, nearly fourteen, Fergus was fast approaching that threshold of adulthood. They were trying to hold fast to these next few years with him, he and Claire both, and it had never been a question as to whether Fergus should go with Jamie to Paris.

“Aye, that may be so,” he agreed. “Still.” Jamie fed more wood into the fire. “It’s yer Christmas celebrations that ye might miss too, while we’re out here.”

Fergus sighed. “I know,” he said, his voice turning a little wistful. “It’s not that I don’t want to be home for it, Papa. I do.”

“I ken,” Jamie murmured. He was more than ready to be home again, to not be on the road, but the fact remained that there were so many miles that stood between them and no way out of this mess but through it.

They ate quietly, and burrowed under their blankets, careful of the fire. It was chilly, but nothing compared to a Highland winter for Jamie. He checked with Fergus to make sure the boy was warm enough.

“What d’ye miss the most?” Jamie asked into the still winter air. The stars had come out, and for all that he would rather be cooped up inside with Claire and the bairns, the night sky above them in that moment was a beautiful sight.

“All of it,” Fergus answered honestly, his voice a little muffled under his blankets. Jamie looked over to see he had them pulled up over his nose, and cracked a smile at the sight of him. “But I was thinking just now about the Christmas songs Maman always teaches us.”

“She teaches ye songs?”

“Yes,” Fergus laughed. “Not you — you have no ear for music, Papa — but me and les petites filles she teaches, yes. I think it helps her remember her own time. And sometimes we work on translating them into French, so that I will remember them better. There’s one that… Maman said it was from the war in her time, about not making it home for Christmas because they are off fighting.”

“Would ye sing it for me, lad?”

Fergus shifted on his bedding and tucked the blanket under his chin. “I do not remember all of it, mind,” he said before he began. He had a clear voice, but Fergus also hadn’t been wrong when he said Jamie had no ear for music, so the melody was lost on him. Instead, he listened to the words and felt his throat swell as the meaning strung together.

Christmas Eve will find me where the love-light gleams.

His chest tightened as Fergus finished with the song.

God, he missed her. His Sorcha. And the bairns’ sweet wee faces. And he didn’t want to disappoint them or hurt them, but stronger still than the overwhelming need to set things right was the insurmountable need to just… be with them again. Kiss the lassies’ wee faces. Hold his wife to his heart.

God.

He’d never felt so homesick, not since… since before Brianna was born, he realized. Since the time he’d thought home was lost for good.

Well, he thought dryly, this is no’ as bad as all o’ that, is it?

He would make it home to them, it was only a matter of time.

---------- 

to be continued...

[cosmic-nebula356]

Scale past incarnation OC

For given context

Cringe or not- (in my headcannon for Scale)

He once had a past incarnation named Samuel.

Samuel grew up in a family of 5. In the year 1850

A father at the age of 56 named Octavius whom was heavily strict on Samuel

His domesticated mother Matilda, age 38

And two younger siblings who were twins

Sister Gretchen and brother Gunther.

Once Samuel reached the age of 6, he began working for the family, choosing to work within the mines as a miner.

His family didn’t have that much in money, and so were deemed within lower class.

Still despite this, Samuel remained calm, slightly snarky, adventurous, generous, and kind.

He dies at the age of 19 due to lung cancer, and eventually reincarnates into Scale later in the future

Highly advice to no longer read from here as this is meant for Scale x Stirling intentionally

Samuel just reached the age of 18,

Everything changed in his life one rainy night, he met a mysterious figure just wondering around in the rain with an elegant umbrella.

Samuel calls out to him, which got thus attention to turn around to reveal him wearing elegant Victorian like clothing. Eyes glowing Ruby red, and hair as white as snow, and skin paler than clouds.

He asks the man if he was lost, and the tall man responds with

“Oh, I am merely taking a stroll during this time of day.”

After some time, Samuel offered the man to come inside so that he can stay dry and wait for the rain to stop.

And the strange man, agreed to his offer. Eventually revealing his name to be Stirling.

After he basically allowed for Stirling to stay at his house over night, Stirling found himself in gratitude towards Samuel. Though at the time admittedly did had plans to consume one of their blood in their sleep (not with Gretchen and Gunther though- Stirling draws the line with Children- he would never bit em 👀)

The two then found themselves encountering each other more and more. Even Samuel showing Stirling around in the mines when it was just the two of them.

For so long, Stirling hasn’t had a genuine connection to a human since his parents. I’ll dive into Stirling’s story in another time, but the best that can be said here is that his parents were killed by humans become of them finding out their son was turned into a vampire 🤫

Eventually, they began to fall in love.

It was strictly frowned upon for couples of the same sex to be seen, much less one with an upper class man

This was further proven by Samuel’s parents, especially with his father,

When purely asked if he was interested in men more than woman, his father scolds him, and warns him to never say such a thing.

This outburst and eventual argument cause for Samuel to run off, and find Stirling.

He felt far to angry and overwhelmed that his father forbid him from ever loving a man, thus disapproving his relationship with Stirling without even knowing it.

From that point alone, they shared a passionate night together deep within the mines.

They formed a plan where Samuel would run away with Stirling to escape his family and live with him instead.

Unfortunately for them, Samuel began to show signs of sickness.

And was forced to return back to his family.

When diagnosed by the doctor, he was shocked to find that he was diagnosed with lung cancer due to working in the mines far too long.

There was not much that could be done for him, and so he was left in the hospital bed, slowly dying as time went by.

Stirling desperately offers to turn him, but Samuel refuse, assuring Stirling that he wanted to find an alternative way to come back to him.

With one final kiss, Samuel dies at the age of 19.

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

happy 200! i’m so glad to see your blog grow, it’s one of my favorites and i adore all your writing. i’ve never cried so much and i love the kind of unsettling feeling you write in your fics, it’s perfect in the category of yandere and dark content. in particular, i loved your drabble about shigaraki mourning over a dead reader and i’ve reread that one too many times to count haha! as for asks for headcannons and drabbles, it would be amazing to see that with bully!eren especially since he was such an awful person to the reader. i’d love to see him suffer honestly, but if you don’t want to write it, that’s completely fine! once again, i’m so proud of you for hitting 200! that’s such a huge milestone and hopefully, there will be many more in the future! :)

SYNOPSIS: bully!Eren has to navigate the world without you.

Pairing: Bully!Eren x Fem!Reader

A/N: I can't even explain in words how much I CHEESED at this message like my grin was ear to ear. can't explain how many times I read this. It singlehandedly made my day anon, and to repay you for my happiness....here is some angst. this is a slightly different route than the shiggy one but I hope it still suits you <3

TW: mentions of death, past dubcon/noncon, mentions of trauma, bullying, alcohol addiction, drunk driving, abusive behavior, revenge porn, nonconsensual photography/videography, mentions of infidelity, angst, so much of angst, violent behavior

WC: 2.5k

It's not like Eren had been doing a lot of soul-searching. He's not delusional enough to label his half-assed epiphany of "maybe I'm a shitty person" as soul searching.

It's just the conversation with his very sick mother burned holes through the back of his mind. Carla had asked about you and why you don't come by the house anymore. How she missed baking with you in the kitchen, and how you sweetly smiled whenever you would see soft creamy peaks form in the meringue.

Eren felt like he was swallowing needles as he assured his mother with false truths, that nothing was going on and distance between childhood friends is natural, and if it means so much--ok ok he'll bring you over.

He stays until he sees her chest slowly rising and falling into a gentle asleep. He touches the tip of his ears, unsurprised by how hot it was.

Eren, when you tell a lie, the tips of your ears turn red.

You're not at school the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.

Guilt is not an emotion he feels often but the events of the past weekend replay in his mind. It was just a dumb party that Floch threw, and he was surprised to find you cornered by a trio of thee dunderheads. Like a distorted fairytale, he swept you away from the bad guys like a knight in shining armor, to only shove you in an empty room and demand compensation for playing hero.

Fuck, with that big mouth, you would think that you'd know how to suck cock.

Use your tongue stupid slut. If you use teeth, I'll shove this dick in your ass without any prep.

No, I don't care, you're taking all of it.

There's a video on his camera roll. How could he not record it? You're sobbing, mascara running down your cheeks, looking so beautiful and ruined with jizz smeared at the corner of your mouth. He was brutally fucking your mouth, making you take all of his length.

Breathe through your nose dumb whore. Or else you're gonna run out of air.

You were pleading with whatever garbled sounds you were constricted into producing.

Breathe through your fucking nose. This is for your sake. Otherwise, I don't mind face fucking your lifeless body. You'd be more useful that way anyways.

Eren is conflicted with muting the video because he can't stand to hear himself like that. But he didn't want to miss out on your pitiful whines.

He remembers the distraught expression on your face when he was finally done with you. He tucked himself inside, and sneered, "I've got a girl coming here. Get lost." You looked so fucking distraught. Why? All he did was make you suck his dick. He didn't even fuck you.

He should have. Eren thinks grimly when he stares at your empty desk on the first day you didn't show up to school. He's gotten off to the video more than enough times than he can count over the weekend, and he was aching to see your pretty face twisted into a terrorized expression when he flipped up your skirt to grope your ass.

Kindly, Eren decides he'd allow you to have a rest day. But the second day, Eren pays a visit to your house finding it dark and locked, like no one was home and hadn't been there for a while.

On the third day, you're declared missing.

Your incompetent workaholic mother who finally came home and decided to give a damn reported you missing to the authorities who had scratched their heads because as far as they knew, the pivotal 72 hours were up.

Paradis was surrounded by forests. No one wanted to say it, but they were all thinking it. If you got lost in there, chances are you wouldn't make it out.

Eren wasn't always this admired and fawned over. He had his fair share of behavioral issues that frightened people (not you though, not then at least, not when you were children, and you still came back every day to play).

But when he channeled that anger into sports, there was somewhat of a star in the making, especially for some small-town boy. He was becoming extremely popular, and that's nice and all, but at the end of the day, he has a mother whose health was taking a sharp decline. He was constantly under stress, stress that he took out on you.

Where did his favorite stress-ball go?

It's all fucking surreal. Having detectives in the school. Not that there were many students to question (because christ, did you even have any friends after Eren turned everyone against you?).

Eren was questioned. He can't help but mirthfully chuckle. Maybe this was your grand plan, maybe you were able to finally sort out a mountain of evidence against him. If you were going to fuck him over, didn't you want to see it happen with your own two eyes?

The dark-haired boy wishes that was true. If you had gotten your revenge, would you be here? No, revenge isn't the right word. If you got any justice for what he made you suffer, would you come back?

Hi, I'm Detective Hange. I would like to ask you some questions today. You're Eren Yeager, right?

Yes, that's me.

How do you know ___?

We were childhood friends. We're uh, we're not as close anymore.

When was the last time you saw her?

Friday night at Floch's party-

-Floch Forster right? There were a number of kids there from your school.

Yeah. It was a big party. She uh, doesn't usually come to parties but she was there that night.

You were the last person to be seen with her. Other kids have said that they saw you and her entering a room together, and then only her leaving the said room.

[Sigh] Yeah we sorta...hooked up.

I thought you said you guys weren't close anymore.

You can be not close to someone and still hook up with them.

But you guys were close once right?

Yeah. Once.

The dark-haired boy asks if he was under any suspicion. The detective waves their hand in a dismissive gesture, “If her diary tells us anything, it’s only that she really liked you.”

Were detectives even allowed to divulge that sort of information? Eren doesn’t know but the stray detail that they offered off-handedly made him feel like he was swallowing needles.

At that point, Eren honestly still doesn't believe you're gone. You had a habit of running away, even when you were little kids, but you always came back.

Still, he participates in the search parties with a renewed vigor, even going alone in the forest with a flashlight on most nights.

And he's just so fucking tired. The darkest crevice of his mind almost wishes you were dead because this ignorance was just agony. Almost. Because he still clings to the feeling that one day, he’ll stroll into class and find you in your seat in the back of the class, looking out the window like some cliche shojo manga protagonist.

There are folders and folders on his phone. Albums. The most recent one is dedicated to your crying face as you were choking on his dick. Earlier albums are composed of creepshots of your panties, of that obscene o-face, of your skirt flipped up and your ass cheeks, pictures of your cleavage, videos of you thrashing as he dunked your head into toilets like a villainous middle school bully.

Pictures of your neck covered in hickeys, your naked breasts, ass cheeks striped with red after getting spanked, your leaking cunt, just endless and endless media dedicated to pieces and pieces of your body like you were never a whole person.

The earliest ones though tell a different tale, from off-guards to your drooling face as you napped in the middle of the day.

He has a favorite picture. Your eyes are watery from the cold, snowflakes stuck between lashes, nose and cheeks flushed red, and you're smiling. Smiling right to the camera. Right at him.

"Eren, are you taking a picture?" You asked, bouncing in place, giddy that it was finally snowing.

"Not of you, shut up. Get out of the way." His voice is gruff but not harsh.

You laughed and jumped into frame anyway, and the bright streetlamp behind you made you seem like you were wearing a halo.

He wishes he had more pictures of you being...yourself. Because now your crying face displayed over countless pixels haunt him. But like a fucking degenerate, he still jerks off to all the nudes he coerced from you. Sometimes he cries when he's jerking off which is probably the most pathetic thing he's ever done. This is what you've reduced him to.

He hates the sound of his own voice.

Breathe through your fucking nose. This is for your sake. Otherwise, I don't mind face fucking your lifeless body. You'd be more useful that way anyways.

Eren goes through the motions of life without really feeling like he's in the moment. Seasons change and time flies. His mother dies, and his withdrawn father dies a year later. He proposes to Mikasa because it's something he was always supposed to do. She loves him unconditionally, so even when he doesn't put any effort into the relationship but proposes, she says yes hoping he'll change and be a good husband.

He doesn't go to his parents' funerals because they're already dead. What's the point. He doesn't visit the candlelight vigils in your honor either. After tearing his ACL again and a somewhat traumatic injury, he kisses his pro-football career goodbye. To be totally honest, he's relieved. Because he had gotten quite bored, and maybe he was looking for excuses to quit the entire time. It's not like you'd be cheering on the bleachers anyways.

Mikasa has an affair, more out of a desire to see her fiancé feel something for her as opposed to any burning lust. But when she asks him if he's ever cared at all, with tears springing out of her eyes, he's just calmly drinking his fifth of whisky.

The dark-haired man doesn't even look up, "Let's break up."

"Is this about her, huh? Fucking get over it already Eren. She's GONE. And you have some big fucking audacity moping about her death like you weren't making her cry in the bathroom stalls every fucking day you piece of shit."

"Get out."

"You know what, I bet she killed herse-"

SMASH

The dark-haired woman doesn't finish her rant because the whiskey bottle smashes on the wall next to her head, sending glass everywhere and staining the carpet amber. She's unharmed, knowing it wasn't Eren's intention to hit her but Jesus Christ, what a monster.

She packs her bags and leaves the town like she should have a long time ago. All her friends had left years before and she stayed behind because that's where Eren was. She thanks her lucky stars that they didn't marry.

It's funny because he had always imagined himself being the first to move out of their small town, but he's the one staying. He can't leave this place. feels too tethered to ever leave. Every diner and liquor store is saturated with memories of you. He remembers buying cigarettes and exhaling the smoke to your face to piss you off in empty parking lots.

Maybe he stays in case you'll come back.

Eren's days consist of alcohol-fueled hazes. He doesn't know how his liver is still functioning. He doesn't know he's still alive after crashing his car into a tree when he was drunk out of his mind. He was on his way to get some more vodka.

He barely recognizes himself in the mirror anymore, not that he looks at himself much. His hair is long, nestled around his shoulder because he couldn't be bothered to cut it, dark circles under viridian eyes, and a perpetual stubble on his jaw.

His parents had left quite a sizable inheritance so there's no need to work but he's good with his hands. Likes crafting up birdhouses and cabinets, and occasionally does odd jobs around the neighborhood, never charging the elderly.

He's under the sink, tinkering with a wrench against the pipes when he hears the old lady coo at him.

"We're so lucky to have you Eren. I'm surprised a handsome young man like yourself doesn't have a special lady. The girls must be lining up at your door!"

The dark-haired man winces, and offers no comment, knowing that that the older lady was susceptible to long tangents.

"You know, we're getting a new neighbor." Eren grunts as a response. "They're young, I've heard. Isn't that exciting? Oh my, Eren! I think they're gonna be living in the house right next to yours..."

He tunes out the rest of the conversation because doesn't really care. He just hopes his new neighbors are quiet.

It's Sunday noon when obnoxious noises of moving trucks and people wake him up from his deep slumber. Eren's annoyed to wake up despite the fact he's probably been sleeping over 15 hours. He oscillates between getting too much sleep and getting none, his sleeping habits completely dependent on his dreams.

His nightmares are too visceral, visions of your corpse asking him if he'd enjoyed hollowing your soul with his teeth.

His dreams are achingly sweet. You in your prom gown, shining so iridescently like diamonds were sewn into the silk. He's dancing with you, holding you close, and then after you guys go to your favorite diner and gorge on burgers and milkshakes.

There's a peal of distinctly feminine laughter that stirs up Eren's senses. He's so pathetic, was the mere sound of a woman laughing getting him excited?

He sighs. He thinks of the whore he's frequently visited because of her resemblance to you. Hair color, skin color, face shape--with enough alcohol, he could really convince the person beneath him, was you. Maybe it's time to give her a call, but she's gotten so fucking needy and he hated how her voice didn't match yours.

The green-eyed man peers from the lace curtains, irritated by the brats playing on his lawn. A full family next door? Great, just what he needs.

The friendly knock on his door breaks him out of his daze. He contemplates whether he should answer but on the second more muted knock, he lets his feet guide him.

He turns the knob.

And Eren Yeager completely shatters.

Because it's you isn't it? You're the person standing in front of him? He can hear what you're saying but he doesn't really register it, soaking in the cadence of a voice he had long forgotten because all he had were pleading whimpers and frenzied moans stored on his cell.

He's shaking. Is he dreaming? He's dreaming, right? He knows it's you. You're older, far more beautiful than he's ever seen you. You have a different hairstyle, wearing clothes he would have mocked you for, and there's this joyfulness within you that makes you glow.

There's a mess of emotions electrifying in the pits of his stomach from euphoria, anger, and dread. He could feel his skin growing clammy like he was about to vomit at any second.

"Hey, are you all right?"

Doe eyes full of concern peer up at him. He voices out the syllables of your name like a desperate prayer.

You tilt your head to the side, "How do you know my name?"

[comfortwriting]

Through Thick and Thin - A.S

Anakin Skywalker x Fem Reader

masterlist, requesting rules, guidelines, taglist

About: When Obi-Wan learns of Anakin's turn to the dark side, he goes to Y/N to try and find him; what he gets instead changes everything and Anakin gets the answers he's been waiting for.

A/N: this is my first time writing in months, please be kind! Need to get back to my flow lol

Word Count: 2057

Warnings: murder, death, blood, mention of parent loss.

"He killed younglings, Y/N!" Obi-Wan stressed, pacing around the room "Tell me where he is, I beg you."

You stared at your husbands Jedi Master, contemplating if you should tell him the truth - betraying your husband and revealing his whereabouts or to lie and protect him. After all, you knew what Obi-Wan was going to do.

You knew that Anakin was capable of taking lives, especially the lives of women and children after he murdered the Tusken Raiders - you weren't afraid of him when he confessed and you certainly didn't shame him for it; you could understand his anger, his hate, his need for revenge.

Anakin's back was facing you, he stared at the wall, hot tears streaming down his face.

"I killed them." he paused, catching his breath "I killed them all. They're dead, every single one of them."

Anakin slowly turned around to face you, his face stained with tears, his eyes glassy and red.

You stared at him, trying not to judge him for what he had done - knowing that if you did, you would be the biggest hypocrite known to man.

"And not just the men," Anakin inched closer to you, shaking his head "but the women and the children too."

You froze.

Women, like you.

Children, like the ones you adored at the Jedi Temple, children you dreamed of having with Anakin.

Part of you died hearing his confession, but you remembered how you felt when you were finally left alone in a room with your fathers killer. You too would've killed his wife and the other women and children in their village. You would wipe them all out.

"They're like animals, and I slaughtered them like animals." Anakin started to raise his voice, his pearly white teeth shining in the light "I hate them!"

Anakin dumped himself to the floor, bringing his knees to his chest, more tears falling from his eyes; you placed your hand against his face, wiping away his tears with your thumb.

"It's okay to feel angry, it's okay to hate them after what they did." You said softly, casting circles on his cheek with your thumb.

"I'm a Jedi," his eyes searched yours, his hand reaching for yours, holding it tightly "I know I'm better than this."

You sighed, kissing his hand softly "Don't let what you've done define you, Ani."

"How can I come back from this?" He asked in frustration "How can I move forward if Obi-Wan is holding me back!"

"You find a way," you encouraged him "even if it means going against him... and the council."

"You're going to kill him, aren't you?" You asked quietly.

Obi-Wan didn't answer, he swallowed hard and looked at the pale lilac carpet.

"Why do I get the feeling you're going to be the death of me?"

"Don't say that Master... You're the closest thing I have to a father... I love you. I don't want to cause you pain."

"He has slain younglings, Y/N! I saw his callousness with my own eyes!" Obi-Wan raised his voice, "Anakin has sided with Palpatine! He's the sith lord!"

You started to laugh, waving your hand.

'Of course, Obi-Wan and the council are pinning this on Palpatine, making him the bad guy.' you thought.

"It's funny," you speak up swinging your right leg over your left knee "you and the council painting Palpatine as evil."

The Jedi Master stared at you in horror and couldn't believe the words coming out of your mouth - his heart splitting into tiny fragments, the young girl he raised was defending the chosen one - the young boy who had grown up with bouts of pent up hate and anger, and turned to the dark side.

"Palpatine is the only person other than me who truly cares for Anakin, who never lectures him for his feelings, who never holds him back."

Obi-Wan felt sick.

"I don't know where he is," you lied "even if I did, I'm not telling you."

"Don't make this harder for me than it needs to be," Obi-Wan warned you, remembering the Jedi Code, pushing his memories with you and Anakin aside.

You didn't flinch, instead, you sat back down on the sofa, staring at the beautiful sparkling wedding ring on your finger.

"I don't want to go back," you sighed, dragging your feet through inches of deep, sparkling snow "I've missed being home."

Anakin nervously fidgeted with the ring box in his pocket, practising his words over and over and over, making sure he got them perfect, his body freezing, his hair full of snowflakes.

"I'm so thankful you came here with me, Ani." You smiled, "My dad would've loved you."

Realising that Anakin wasn't following you, you stopped in your tracks and turned around, finding your boyfriend down on one knee.

"Ani-"

"From the day we met, I have never been able to shake you from my mind and heart."  

Your eyes filled with tears and your goggles started to steam up.

"I never got to ask for your father's blessing, but that won't stop me."

You focused on the ring, realising it was the same one that your father always showed you as a child, with his plan to give to you in hopes that you would pass it on to your children.

"Y/N, my love, will you marry me?"

You nodded your head, removing your glove, exposing your warm skin to the freezing air that instantly started to nip at your skin.

"Yes," you smiled, more tears falling from your eyes "I will marry you, Anakin."

"Your father would be ashamed of you, you're becoming the very thing he hated, you're sleeping with the enemy!"

The rage you once felt started to ignite deep inside you as Obi-Wan tried to sour one of the greatest moments of your life.

You stood up, and walked over to him, staring him down.

"You know better than to bring up my father, Obi-Wan."

Anakin tried to catch his breath, stumbling backwards in extreme pain, the sound of your screams ringing in his ears. You were hurt, probably dead with the amount of pain Anakin was experiencing.

His heart started pounding, his ears ringing, feeling sick to his stomach - you couldn't be... could you? who could've done this? why?

"I have these nightmares..." Anakin opened up to you "what I see, happens."

You stroked Anakin's head, your fingertips massaging his scalp, your lips brushing against his neck.

"I had them about my mother before she died, I wasn't strong enough to save her."

You stopped massaging his scalp, and pulled away, looking into his blue eyes - full of tears that pooled up over his waterline.

"You are strong and you get even stronger the more you learn and experience," you paused "I was strong - not strong enough to save my dad, but now I probably would've had a better chance of doing so. We move forward."

Your fiance nodded his head, pursing his lips and kissing you softly, still emotional when he pulled away from the kiss.

"I don't want to dream of you like that- I don't want the nightmares - I can't... I can't lose you..."

You shook your head, cupping Anakin's face in your hands "You won't lose me, Ani."

Anakin didn't know but he would soon find out, killing the last of the separatist leaders on Mustafar, he boarded his ETA-2 Jedi Starfighter and set off in a hurry; desperate to find you.

You were in utter shock.

Your hands trembling, your forehead burning, the room closing in on you yet expanding at the same time and your throat like sandpaper from your constant screaming.

It all happened so fast - Obi-Wan striking for you, your leg being severed off faster than you could realise until you fell down and all you could feel was agonising pain, and the smell of burning flesh filling the room, the blood boiling in your veins.

You sat on the floor, your back propped up against the back of the sofa, dragging yourself across the floor proved difficult since you stopped practising your upper body workouts.

Looking across the room, your eyes landed on Obi-Wan, no longer breathing - how you did it? you didn't know - you managed to take control, more power than you ever had in your life, your fury spitting inside of you begging for release.

Do you feel guilty? Now that you think about it, no.

Obi-Wan attempted to end your life and he would take Anakin's life too.

Bringing the back of your hand up to your forehead, you wiped away the beads of sweat, your chest rising and falling.

Anakin jumped out of his Starfighter, his hood shielding his face, his long strides bringing him closer and closer to you, his eyes no longer a beautiful shade of blue, but like the two suns on Tatooine during sunset.

She can't be. Y/N can't be dead. Not now. Not ever.

Getting closer and closer, Anakin could sense death, pain, and suffering.

The door swung open as Anakin stormed in, searching for you frantically until his eyes landed on your amputated leg in the middle of the room, his face drained of all its colour.

Your screams came back to him, the searing sound of Obi-Wan's lightsaber severing your leg, the loud thud as you fell to the floor and then the walls shaking, everything shaking, your yells, Obi-Wan's voice breaking before his body dropped lifelessly to the floor.

Anakin glanced over to his Jedi Masters lifeless body and stared, his eyes burning holes into Obi-Wans back, wanting nothing more than to revive him just so he could have the pleasure of murdering him for what he had done to you.

You peeked your head out from behind the sofa, "Ani," you winced, "I'm back here."

Anakin rushed to your side, his eyes pouring with tears as he searched your face and body for more injuries; the sight of your wound hurt him deeply.

How could Obi-Wan do this to you? How could anyone do such a thing to the chosen one's wife?

"Are you-are you-"

"Ani," you tried to calm him down breathlessly "just my leg, nothing-nothing else."

Anakin scooped you into his arms as gently as he could, you held onto him for support, moving one of your arms around his neck, your tear-stained face hiding in his chest, his heartbeat thumping against your ear comforting you.

"I thought you were dead," Anakin croaked, carrying you away, his robes hiding you in his arms.

"Obi-Wan came to me, he needed to know where you were so he could kill you," you admitted, "he told me that you killed younglings."

Anakin slowed down, you pulled your head out of his chest and looked into his eyes.

"Did you believe him?" Anakin asked, his tone harsh.

You paused for a moment, slightly afraid that Anakin might drop you.

"I know that you have killed children before," you replied quietly, "he told me that Palpatine is the sith lord... that you are his apprentice-"

"What do you think of Palpatine?" Anakin's eyes rummaged through yours.

She can't turn against me - she won't. I won't let her.

"I think that he's the only other person aside from me who has ever encouraged you to show your emotions, to use them to make you stronger."

Anakin's eyes fixed on your face like glue "what if he is the sith lord, and I have joined him? what would you think of me"

You sighed, closing your eyes, imagining the perfect life with your husband; you and him never in harms way, children of your own growing up without a clue of what it's like to lose a parent, to be a slave.

"I would encourage you to overthrow him, and together you and I can rule the galaxy,"

You opened your eyes, everything coming back to you, your father's death, how it felt to slaughter a whole family.

"make things the way we want them to be."

Anakin gripped onto you tightly, a prideful grin spreading across his face.

"Everyone turned against me but you." He said softly, kissing you.

"What if you hate what I become?" your boyfriend stressed, pacing up and down.

"I could never hate you, Anakin," you walked over to him, linking your arm with his metal one"I'll be with you through thick and thin."

tags: @autobotrosestark

[writingsfromhome]

Crystal Clear

A/N: Here’s some fluff, friends to lovers I’ve had going on while I work on something bigger :))

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

“Y/N,” a strange man calls my name. I look him up and down but I don’t think I know him.

“Who’s asking?”

“Y/N, it’s me? Harry.”

“Oh,” I laugh and greet him how I would have if I’d recognized him under all those layers, in a great big hug. “Your disguise is brilliant!”

“It’s not a disguise,” he says into his coat. “It’s bloody cold here.”

“Coldest day so far,” I accept the hot chocolate from the vendor and ask him for another, Harry could use one, poor thing. His plans this week were changed last minute, and since he was in New York City where his best childhood friend lived, he decided to actually hang out with me. Ever since he got famous, it was hard to catch time with him.

“Did the cold freeze all the English out of you? You’re not even wearing mittens,” Harry accepts his own cup from the vendor.

“I’m got them in my pocket,” I point to the bulge on the side of my coat as we step aside and make our way deeper into the winter festival that was at Bryant Park. “Don’t insult me, I can still make a better cup of tea than you ever could.”

“There she is,” I hear the smile in Harry’s voice more than I see it. It truly was ridiculous--not only was he wearing the thickest parka I’d ever seen, he also had on a beanie and a scarf, as well as knit gloves that held tightly to his hot chocolate.

“I’m always here, you’re just too busy to see me.”

“Not this again,” he groans. I was always giving him grief every time he touched down to NYC but didn’t pop by for a visit. I knew he had a hectic schedule, and even though I wasn’t that bothered I still liked to tease him.

“It’s true, you come to the city so often but I see you once a year. And maybe again when I’m in London if I get lucky.”

“I’m busy Y/N, I talk to you all the time!”

“I know,” I elbow him. “I just like to rile you up.”

“Well now that you’ve got that out of your system,” he tugs my hat over my eyes. “Where are we going next?”

I push it back up, “I thought we could just wander the shops, then get on the skating rink if you’re not frozen to death.”

“Alright I’ve got to pick some gifts up anyway let’s see what’s here.”

We make a good team as we visit stands selling ornaments and kitschy decor, handmade gifts, and hot cider. We sift through exactly what we might want, or what the other’s looking for. And with the light dusting of snow coming down, and the bright lights strung around the Park, it was like walking in a Christmas movie.

“Look at this,” I point ahead. We’d nearly visited all the stands and holiday shops but a festive psychic advertises their services in a small glass booth. “Should we?”

“It’s a waste of money,” Harry scoffs. “She’s just going to read your body language.”

“She might be the real deal-”

“You can’t be serious-”

“C’mon!” I tug his gloves hand and it takes a few but he stumbles towards me. It’s slightly warmer inside and I notice the space heater running in the corner. “At least it’s warm” I whisper to Harry.

“You really want to do this?” He asks one last time.

“It’s just $10-”

“$20 for the two,” the woman almost shifts out of the wall and I hide my jump with a laugh. There’s a curtain behind her, I realize, she must have stepped out.

“It’s just me,” I clarify.

She eyes Harry and Harry eyes her back. “You look familiar.”

“Just have that face,” he shrugs, burrowing into his scarf. “I’m just here to watch.”

She stares at him a moment longer before settling at the small table. I flash Harry a smile before sitting down myself, setting my bags onto the floor.

“Palm reading, cards, what will it be dear?” The psychic asks. I remember the sign out front said cards would be more than having my palm read so I opt for the cheaper option.

“Hm,” she says thoughtfully as she traces the lines on my palm. I wriggle my eyebrows at Harry and he rolls his eyes, but he stays watching her like a hawk. It was cute how overprotective he got sometimes. The psychic glances up to catch him watching her, she then glances at me and tilts her head.

“I see longevity, in life and love, a few bumps but you’re a strong persistent woman.”

Harry grumbles behind me and I resist the urge to say something to him.

“I see success after hard, hard work. But a big success that will change the course of your career.”

“Wow, how soon?” I ask.

“Mmm, after a big milestone. Turning 30?” she continues to examine my hand. “I see a second life later in life, with kids...just one no maybe two children.”

“How about her love life?” Harry asks. “Her last love s’not too nice.”

“Seriously Harry?” I turn to glare this time. He’s grinning with flushed cheeks, knowing it was a sore spot he liked to say i told you so to. It was true, he had told me so about my 3 year relationship but I’d ignored him.

“Your love life,’ the woman speaks up. “Shows me two great loves. One cuts short, the other is as long as your life line.”

“Ooh,” I lean in, interested. “I think I know about the one that was cut short. Tell me about the second!”

“This second...” she traces my palm and I feel a tingle. “This second love is very close, a bit rocky but it will last.”

“A bit rocky?”

“Hm,” she chews her bottom lip. “Time, distance...it will make it rocky. But it lasts.”

“So how close is close?” I ask eagerly.

“Close,” she says with a smile that tells me I wasn’t getting anything else out of her.

“That’s a bit vague isn’t it?” Harry pipes up from the back.

“The future isn’t always crystal clear,” she says without looking up at him.

“Lay off,” I scold him.

“It’s okay, I get nonbelievers all the time.” She laughs. “That will be $10 dear.” When I hand her the bill she stops me as she takes it. “A little free advice?”

“Sure.” I pick up the bags I placed on the floor earlier.

"Don’t be so focused on the life you want that you don’t see the life you have around you.”

“I’ve actually told her that before,” Harry decides we want more of his unsolicited opinions. “Maybe there is something true to all of this.”

“Thanks,” I pocket her words for later. Harry was right, he’d said something along those lines to me before, especially when it came to giving up control and going with the flow on trips and events with him. I always declined his offers, we lived a modest life growing up and accepting these gifts from him always felt so excessive. I wanted to make my own way in the world, but Harry always had something to say. “And sorry for his attitude, he’s not always this rude.”

“Yeah,” Harry shifts forward. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m a lot nicer usually.”

“I know,” she smiles.

“She’s psychic,” I remind him.

“I’m also online,” she laughs. “Can I get a picture?”

Harry eyes me, before going in for a selfie with her. I know he usually didn’t mind getting asked in smaller settings but he’d admitted it was something he was still getting used to. It had been a couple years since he became so famous, in such a short amount of time I went from being able to go down to a local pub with my best friend to schedules and security details and a whole other list of complications. Sometimes I hated it, mostly I was happy for him.

“Another day, another fan.” I tell Harry after we walk away from the psychic and he flips me off. “Should we get something to eat and get out of the cold?”

“God yes,” Harry shivers. “Can we just go to yours?”

“Let’s go,” I loop my arm through Harry’s.

Harry wants instant warmth so he hails a cab and we pick up takeout once we reach my neighbourhood. Harry had been here a few times, my roommate had gotten used to the fact that I was best friends with him, and sometimes he preferred to stay here when he wanted to be anonymous. Paparazzi sometimes crowded outside his hotel when word leaked he was there.

We eat ourselves into a food coma and Harry decides to stay the night, not wanting to face the cold again. Since our living room couch sprained his neck the only time he’d slept there, he usually crashed in my bed. His head barely hits the pillow before he’s snoring, I guess the jet lag finally caught up.

***

I jerk out of sleep, a crashing noise followed by swearing catches my attention.

“I think your roommate dropped something,” I hear from beside me. I turn my face to get a facefull of Harry’s thigh tattoos.

“Y’think?” I croak and shift backwards to see his face. He’s sitting up in bed and scrolling through his phone.

“Guess which psychic is officially internet-famous?” Harry asks dryly.

“Hm?” I’m still calming my heart from waking up so suddenly so it takes a moment to register Harry’s words. “What?”

He shoves his phone in my face, the selfie he took with the psychic yesterday is posted on social media with over half a million likes. He swipes away and a lot of his tag is filled with news outlets and fan accounts spamming the picture. He pulls it back to read a heading: “Harry Styles visits Psychic for ideas on his next album. There’s also Harry Styles rumored to be connected to the Occult...I don’t know what that means. Psychic tells all on Harry Styles reading.”

“How did that picture circulate?” I rub my eyes and sit up beside him. “And where is all of this coming from?”

“She has a Twitter, and she posted the picture.” He shows me, it’s there with the caption A handsome face showed up to my booth at the Bryant Park Market tonight. Get your future told, 5pm to 9pm 7 days a week.

I can’t help but laugh, she was a business woman and she really took the opportunity to sell her service.

“It’s not funny Y/N,” Harry looks furious so I cover my mouth and squint at his screen as he scrolls. A ton of people are responding asking about his future or what he came there for. Amongst them, she responds to only one person: His love life was involved.

My jaw drops, “That’s such a lie! She read me my love life, and life lines!”

“I told you she was a fraud,” Harry jerks the phone back to him.

“She lied for sales, but doesn’t mean she didn’t tell the truth yesterday.”

“If she lied about this she lied about it all and you wasted $10. She only talked about your love life, not mine...”

I remember her words, my second love was very close...could she have meant...

I glance at Harry and he seemed to have followed the same train of thought because we lock eyes, his probably just as wide as mine.

“D’you think?” he says just as I say “Was she...?”

We immediately burst out laughing as the tension comes to a head and bubbles over in a safe trickle.

“Is that what she was trying to say?” I say when I’ve finally caught my breath, my stomach hurt from laughing this hard.

“I guess when she said close she meant close,” Harry’s flat on his back from laughing. “Quite literal.”

“And you were calling her out on being so vague.”

“I’ve got to give it to her,” he shuts his phone off and throws it onto the covers between us, releasing the annoyance. “She’s a good businesswoman.”

“I was thinking the same thing but I thought you might kill me if I said that,” I admit.

We lay on the rumpled covers in silence, I think about everything else she said. The potential of it all is tarnished by the idea of Harry being my second love, for life. It was so ridiculous, unless by love she meant the way I love him now. As my best friend. Our lives were so different, there was no way it could ever work. Not to mention...he was my best friend since forever.

“Have you ever thought about it?” Harry asks out of the blue.

“Thought about what?” I prop myself on my elbow.

“Us, like...the way she predicted?”

“Together together?” I can’t help but laugh. “No never, you’re my best friend!” I recognize the flash of hurt so I backtrack a little. “No offense Harry, I love you but could you imagine?”

“I have,” he says it so quietly as I lay back down. “What?” I ask. He shrugs, “I’m surprised you haven’t. We’ve been friends since...we were 7. You’re saying you never thought about it?”

“No,” I shake my head. “Actually I haven’t. When...what did you think about?”

“I dunno,” he fiddles with his rings. “Like for school dances, when I didn’t have a date I thought about asking you as more than a friend...thought about where that could lead. Or every time you had your heart broke. I wanted to take the pain away and just show you what you deserved.”

“Harry I...” it was sweet, what he was saying. But he never gave a single clue about it the entire time we grew up. He was always chasing girls who looked nothing like me, so I always thought that’s what his type was. Never did I think about anything more with him.

“Not-not recently though,” he forces a laugh. “Just when we were kids.”

“That’s sweet Harry. I had no idea.”

He shrugs, and sits up.

“No seriously I...that’s so sweet. But just so you know, you have shown me what a good man can be. Just by being the best friend ever.”

“Aw,” he swipes my cheek as he gets up. “That’s cute. I don’t know if I’ve done such a good job when you’ve only dated knobs.”

I could recognize his defense mechanism--turning it into a big joke. But he leaves the room before I can call him out and I’m left sitting in the mess of what he’d just told me. It’s not that it was awkward or a bad thing, but suddenly it felt tense and the tension triggered an anxious feeling in my chest.

I decide to get out of my room and find my roommate cleaning up the remains of her broken mug. I offer to clean the spill as she dresses to go out for her run. Helping her distracts me, and when I hear Harry leave the bathroom I lock myself in, and try some breathing exercises to clear the anxiety creeping up. When I realize I was trying to avoid Harry, I scold myself. This was ridiculous and funny! Harry wanted to ask me out when we were kids, it was cute, and that was it. The psychic was a fake anyway, nothing she said meant anything.

I head back to my room where Harry’s made the bed. I change into trousers and my favourite fisherman sweater, and find him having coffee at our small kitchen table with his phone on speaker as he talks to someone. His legs barely fit underneath, so they’re sprawled to the side. He’s still shirtless, and my attention snags on his torso.

I shake myself out of my thoughts as I bump into the kitchen island, and glance up to see that although he was talking to the person on the phone, his eyes had been on me...while my eyes were on his abs. Oh god, I cringe. I try to act casual, mouthing if he wanted breakfast but he shakes his head and points to the call he’s having.

I make myself a toast and try to ignore what just happened but it only adds to the tension from this morning. When he gets off his call he brings his cup up to the sink.

“I think I need another cup.”

“Be my guest,” I move aside. “You sure you don’t want breakfast?”

“Are you going to feed me avocado flax seed quinoa toast?” he teases.

“There’s no quinoa.” I correct, crossing my arms. “But...yes.”

“I’ll take this banana,” he holds the lone banana on the counter. “I’ve got to be in East Harlem by noon, that’s what the call was about.”

“Aw,” I hated saying goodbye. “Are you busy the rest of your stay?”

“I can make it back here,” he says.

“Do whatever you need to do,” I say. “I’m used to being discarded after you hang out with me in the city.”

“I don’t do that!” he reaches behind me to slot his cup in and set the machine to grind his beans. I can smell my shampoo on him, he must’ve showered. “If you want me back, you can just say that.”

The morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen window leaves no room for shadows; the shift in the mood is clear as the daylight streaming in. Or maybe I was reading too much into his words.

“I always want you back,” I look up to his height now that he’s standing so close, and the kitchen tightens further.

We’re stuck in a tableau; with my back against the fridge looking up at him as he gazes down with a curious expression. My mind grows blank the longer I stare. No one says a word, the sound of beans grinding the only noise in the kitchen.

My best friend in the whole world looks torn standing in front of me like this, and as my senses slowly rush back I realize that even if my expression doesn’t show it...I was torn. Because out of nowhere, all I can think about are all the questions I ever shoved away in the dark: what would it feel like if I kissed him right now? And what would have happened to us if he had asked me out to our school dance? Would we still be best friends? Would we have cut each other out? How many universes were we still good together like this? How many universes were we good together as more than this?

An urge to touch his face, make sure this was real, takes over me. But as soon as my fingers brush his cheek he snaps out of his trance and stumbles back like I’d burned him.

He forces a laugh. “I really do need that coffee.”

“Right,” I turn to the machine to put the grinds into their slot but I yank too hard and the freshly ground coffee flies out towards me. “Shit!”

“What happ-” Harry takes one look at what’s happened and turns away, his shoulders shaking.

“I can see you right in front of me laughing!” I shout. “Help me!”

“It’s all over you Y/N,” he turns around, tears in his eyes. “Give me this, I’ll put it far away from you.” He takes the remaining grinds and sets it down. I brush away what’s closest to my eyes so I can see and try to shake it off my sweater but they stick to the fibers of the knit.

“Great,” I grumble. “This is dry clean only.”

“It’s in your hair,” he runs his fingers through the strands that hang over my shoulder. I shake my head to dislodge the grinds; his fingers brush my neck away and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Uhm, that should be most of it.”

“It’s not out of this sweater,” I pout. “Screw dry clean, why did I think I could buy dry cleaning clothes?”

“I can drop it off on the way out today?” he offers.

“That means you’re coming back to drop it off to me?!” I ask hopefully.

His expression softens, “Y/N I’m coming back to your flat. I promise.”

“He promises!” I shout. Even though things were a bit awkward this morning, I got to spend more time with my hard-to-catch best friend and for that I was over the moon.

“We could also try to vacuum the sweater?” Harry suggests.

“So you don’t have to come back with dry clean?” I tease. “I’m not letting you get out of your promise, let me give it to you before you change your mind.” I tug my top off and ball it up, shoving it in his hands. It falls to the floor when he doesn’t hold it.

“Hello?” I look up and he’s a deer in the headlights. “Harry...”

“I can’t do this right now,” he takes a step back. I get the sweater from the ground and hold it out to him again.

“Do you want to wipe the kitchen floor with the sweater too? Take it!” I sigh. “Harry are you really acting so chaste about seeing a girl in her bra?”

“It’s-” he decides to stop mid-word. “You’re not just any girl Y/N, I’ve already made it clear.”

Now it’s my turn to stare--he hadn’t made it clear. “You said you only felt something when you were younger...”

“And you believed me?”

I realize I didn’t, but I wanted to believe him so I hadn’t questioned it. “Well it’s not the first time you’ve seen me in a bra. Can you take the damn sweater?” 

“Yeah I can I’m just...” he seems to calm down a bit, enough to step towards me and take it. “I didn’t have to face this conflicted feeling in me if I didn’t see you often. I can just be the best friend. But now, with the whole psychic thing and you in--like this in your kitchen and I--I’m remembering how much I just want to...”

“Kiss me,” I say.

“Yeah...” he looks away.

“No, I’m telling you to kiss me.” I clarify. His expression would’ve made me laugh if my heart wasn’t beating so fast. I couldn’t believe I was being this impulsive.

“Really? You’re not just saying that cuz of this morning?”

“Fine,” I step out of his reach and cross my arms to hide my shaking hands. “If you don’t want to kiss me-”

He pulls me back too quickly and I bump into his chest. “I never said that.” He says in a tone I’d never heard from him before, it’s serious and sexy and it sends tingles through my body. I press myself up against him and he finally, finally, kisses me. Every bit of tension and anxiety the day had built up releases in the single moment his lips cover mine.

How had I waited this long?

The kiss is gentle, delicate like he’s still not entirely sure I want the same thing he does. I show him I do by using my tongue to open his mouth slowly and the hesitation disappears immediately. We’re a fighter jet taking off from there; I don’t know where I end and where he begins as he walks me to the kitchen island and lifts me onto it, our limbs tangling together, His hands roam down the side of my body, but he stays in the safe zones until I unclasp my bra.

“Oh hell no,” my roommate’s voice interrupts us from behind. I hold my bra close and turn. She stands at the entryway, shaking her head. “Not here. Not on our kitchen island. You two have a room literally 10 feet away...”

“Oops,” I say quietly which seems to set Harry off. My roommate is still shaking her head but I see the smile on her face. I’d caught her hooking up on multiple occasions so it wasn’t anything new. But I didn’t do this often. I jump down, apologizing to her. “Harry’s going to clean the coffee off the floor...I-I’ll find a shirt.”

“Mhm,” she closes her bedroom door and I look over at Harry who’s crouching on the floor in tears.

“This is all your fault!” I whisper but he tugs me down to where he is and holds my face as he kisses me.

“I know you two aren’t behind the island,” my roommate’s voice comes out again. I stay there as her footsteps move to the bathroom and the door closes behind her.

“I hate you,” I skirt out of his reach, and rush to my room yelling another sorry as I head back and find a top. Harry appears in my room as I put it on.

“I guess that was a good time for her to walk in on before it got too far?” he still has a stupid grin on his face.

“I don’t even want to think about it,” my cheeks were burning and even more so that Harry was elated.

“I’ve actually got to head out now.”

I pout but he kisses my pout instead. He promises he’ll be back in the evening and I let him go with one more kiss, my mind catching up with everything that just happened.

Oh my god.

***

It’s nearly 8 by the time I’m done running all my errands--taking holidays off for work was usually a good decision for me. I had a big family and picking up all the holiday bits before I flew back home was always a big job. I take an Uber home, I couldn’t handle a 40 minutes trip back home carrying everything home on the subway.

I call out to my roommate when I get in but she doesn’t respond. I check her door and it’s open and dark, the bathroom is also empty. She must have evening plans.

I open my door to a surprise. Harry is sprawled on my bed. He jerks awake when I settle my bags down.

“Y/N?” he squints as I turn the light on.

“How did you get in here?” I shrug my coat off.

“Y’roommate let me in before she left,” he rubs his eyes. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep...I had a whole thing planned.”

I’d gone over the whole morning during my errands, surprised and excited and nervous about this new step for us. But I continued to think about what the psychic said, our love lines extended alongside my life line. Even though there wasn’t much comfort or trust in a psychic who used a photo opp as a marketing opp, what she said had come true. And I put my faith in that, calming my nerves about this new step potentially ruining our friendship forever.

“Was that okay?” Harry sits up. “She didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Oh no that’s fine,” I unwrap my scarf and stand at the foot of my bed. “I really wasn’t sure if you were coming back.”

“Of course I would,” he reaches for my hand. “I wouldn’t leave you after this morning, I’m not that flighty.”

“Well we never really got to talk about it,” I say as I sit down. I’d texted him during the day but it never showed he read it, I wasn’t sure how to read into that; finding him passed out on my room meant he was probably on the go all day.

“Are you okay with this?” he says with such concern, I nearly tear up. This was making me way too emotional.

“I am,” I smile at my best friend in the whole world. “I just don’t want to go too fast.”

“We won’t,” he promises as he holds his arms out. I lean in towards his solid chest and he wraps his arms around me. I feel his breath on my cheek, then his lips in my hair. “I’m yours for eternity Y/N, we can take it as slow or fast as you want.”

It was a good thing to say, and I believe him entirely.

We eventually untangle ourselves to get food in us, and even though things are different, they’re also not. We still pick out the same parts of our food to give the other person, we still talk the same shit and laugh at the same jokes. But his hands grasps mine and his thumb brushes over my knuckles absentmindedly. His eyes stay steady on me as I talk like I’m someone new he’s exploring. We kiss after dinner, but we also load the dishwasher and laugh about the one time I’d managed to burn soup from a can. Eventually we end in my bedroom, where we lay together, our conversation growing quieter by the minute, the space between us growing smaller.

And even though we’d slept like this a hundred times before, it’s different now. I can feel it in every atom of my being, I was his and he was mine. And I don’t know how long it’s been like this for it to feel so easy, but accepting it was a no brainer, like accepting the sky was blue or the sun was hot. I remember the advice the psychic gave, I was following it: living the life I had around me even though it wasn’t the life I thought I would have.

There were a million things Harry and I had to figure out to make this work--I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But I did know that it was right, it was true, and it was going to be forever.

The future may not be crystal clear, but my future with this man was.

[troublesometrollhunters]

Can you do a Belloc x human child and Skrael x human child? Platonic of course.

I'd really appreciate if people started sending in asks that are more explanatory. I will start deleting asks that are too simple.

Anyways Going with Skrael since I have like two Bellrocs with similar prompts as well. I believe Skrael goes by he/him and they/them pronouns

~~~

Skrael is surpringly good with young children. Kids always seem to enjoy the Winter more than adults and he finds their laughter as they play in the snow delightful. They have such pure young souls it makes him happy to see them enjoying his Winter. It does disappoint him that children can't stay outside longer because it just gets too cold and they'll get sick but there's nothing he can do about it so he waits til the next day to see them again.

Until one night he finds you. All the other kids went inside to their homes but you remain outside collecting wet sticks buried in the snow. Skrael watches you confused before they see you building something, or trying to build something.

Landing near you Skrael asks what your doing. When you turn your lips are blue and your skin looks off abd he can feel it, your cold much too cold for a mortal. Asking where your parents are he takes off his cloak putting it around you. You sneeze in response and shiver as it begins to get darker and colder. Pulling the cloak closer shivering its clear you don't know where your parents are.

Skrael takes you in their arms making sure the cloak is wrapped tightly around you before flying off. He can't make it warm like his sibling Bellroc but he can take you somewhere less cold and hopefully warm you up. Settling in a cave he begins to make a fire making sure the flames don't burn you but keep you warm up he asks what your doing out in the cold and snow alone. Skrael did not expect for you to start crying.

It all starts making sense when you say you have no home. That your alone. Well Skrael finds that unacceptable all children need a home and no one should be alone. Even someone as powerful as him is not alone, he has his siblings. Skrael decides if no one else will take you, you will be his child. That night you fall asleep in his lap, his cloak works as a makeshift blanket and his fingers card through your hair.

There's only one problem to this plan. Skrael doesn't really know what humans need to survive, especially young humans. He knows you need food, water, and shelter. But what about clothes, toys, and other things? He does not know how to teach you or take care of you yet no one else is going too so if not him than who?

Skrael learns quickly depsite being clueless at first. From nearby villages he's able to snatch blankets, pillows, and supplies. He furnishes the cave and makes sure your comfortable and warm as well as well fed and well dressed. Cooking was a challenge at first but he learned and you never complained about his food, you even got excited and began helping him at a young age. As he takes care of you he becomes attached very quickly and as you grow so does his fondness for you. He teaches you about magic and his Winter world and the secrets within it. Meanwhile you teach him about being human.

He notices you like when he makes it snow. Watching you love his power really makes hik reflect on the beauty of his element. Ice and Wind are often seen as bad things but you don't seem to mind them as long as you have warm clothes to help you keep warm. Skrael is never not amused at the way you dance in the snow and laugh as you jump around hair blowing in every direction.

Ice skating or snow hiking is his favorite way to spend time with you. He enjoys spending long hours with you in the snow and ice teaching you all the secrets hes never been able to share with anyone. The way your eyes sparkle when you learn another fact or the way you carefully mimic his actions make his heart melt. And after a long day of playing he enjoys telling you stories while you heat up next to the fire before you slip off to bed.

He introduces you to his siblings when he feels the time is right. They love you just as much as Skrael does and he's releived. You may have had a rocky start but now you are apart of his family and as a apart of his family you will be treated better than any mortal ever could've treated you. Now when he's busy he knows Bellroc or Nari can watch you and that you'll always have someone to love or be there with you.

[manonblaqkbeak]

Fire and Ice

hello, hope you’re all doing well. i’m doing a double feature today since its the 20th here in aus. so todays fic is for day 19 and 20 (like, if u squint lol).

its a lil bit more angsty then i planned for it to be in the beginning, but its got some fluff at the end. (also, again, i borrowed the 10 month pregnancy plot from acotar)

1.9k words

enjoy!

The bathroom tiles were cool against Aelin's clammy skin as she slowed her breathing. As she willed herself to stop feeling so dizzy.

Four months into her first pregnancy and Aelin soon came to realise what the worst part of pregnancy; the morning sickness.

Or, as Aelin liked to call it, 'whenever it rutting happened' sickness. Morning, midnight, dawn, she often found herself running towards a bathroom, emptying her stomach loudly for the whole damned kingdom to hear.

She was aware of the rumours flying around, that there were friendly bets going throughout the city as to whether or not Terrasen was going to have a prince or princess (apparently, the majority were betting for a boy, but Aelin didn't care what she had, as long as they were healthy), but neither her or Rowan confirmed the pregnancy, and so the rumours stayed as gossip, until she and Rowan were comfortable enough to officially announce it.

Aelin wanted to wait because of how hard it was to conceive—it had taken her and Rowan over three years to be successful, and while she knew that three years wasn't that long, it was still hard when nothing happened—and was scared that if she said it out loud, then something horrible would happen. She hadn't even told her friends, although she knew that they knew; the rumours would have reached them. She appreciated that they hadn't asked either of them. Other than Rowan, the only other person that knew of her pregnancy was her personal healer, Magnolia. Other than Yrene, the demi-Fae was a healer than Aelin felt comfortable around, because even after a decade later, she still had nightmares about her time in Maeve and Cairn's cruel hands, the never ending chain of healers coming to fix her so she could be tortured again and again.

Rowan wanted to wait because of everything that happened to Lyria and their child. There were many nights when Aelin would wake up and find Rowan just watching her, his hand against her slowly growing stomach, and not only could she see the pain in his eyes as he thought back on what happened all those centuries ago, she could also feel it, like a living thing. Aelin knew that Rowan did his best to stop her from sensing his dread, but she wasn't a fool, and she would have known how he was feeling even if they didn't have the bond between them, even if she was miles away, she would know.

The bathroom door opened and Rowan was helping her up, his hands warm and gentle against her clammy skin.

Aelin was far too tired to ask if one of her handmaids called for Rowan after Aelin ran from their shared closest and into the bathroom, or if he felt her distress through the bond.

It was probably both. She would ask once her head stopped spinning.

Resting her head against her mate's chest, Aelin breathed in his scent, letting the pine-and-snow of him calm her senses. His strong arms wrapped around her, his tattooed hand running up and down the length of her spine as his right hand was a steady presence against her lower back.

How long they stayed like that, Aelin wasn't sure, but once her head stopped spinning, she rinsed her mouth out to get rid of the pungent vomit taste that was lingering. Once satisfied that the taste was gone, Aelin let Rowan lead her to bed—not the closest.

“Rowan—” she started to say, but her husband cut her off.

“That was a strong one, and Magnolia said that it's best to rest afterwards.” So he felt it through the bond, then. “I'll take over, and you can stay in and read that book you've been eyeing all week.”

She should say no, that she was fine, but a day of rest did sound nice and probably something she desperately needed without knowing it—and she really had been wanting to read the book that Dorian had sent her the other week (which she had to write a detailed review of when she sent it back. It was one of her favourite past times, especially if it was a book that Dorian loved, but she didn't particularly like, because his response to her review was always the most dramatic thing that always made her laugh).

“Fine,” Aelin said, “I'll rest and you can go deal with Head Teacher of the Academy.”

Rowan groaned at the mention. The Fae male that ruled the magic school was nice, but just so damned pedantic that he had a say about everything. And everything was falling apart, according to him, despite the fact that the school was built only five years ago. “I swear,” Rowan grumbled, “that if he complains to me that the school halls aren't the right shade of brown, I'll throw him out the window.”

Aelin laughed, because she had said the same thing when the male had come around complaining that the roof tiles were crooked last month and she had sent Rowan to check on said tiles (and what a surprise to absolutely no one that the tiles weren't at all crooked), but that wasn't enough for the Head Teacher, when he came back the next week, he wanted the tiles replaced.

If he wasn't so damned talented and good with children and running the school, she would have had him fired for being a nuisance. But unfortunately, neither she or Rowan couldn't just get rid of him because he was annoying.

“Make sure that your shirt is tucked in neatly, or you'll get the same speech about cleanliness like last time.”

Rowan flared his nostrils at that, but said nothing as he got up and changed his crumpled tunic for a fresh one—not at all tucked in—and began his fussing.

Truthfully, she was surprised that he lasted that long.

He left her a glass of water, and a pitcher full of the liquid on her nightstand, and the bowl of seasonal fruit next to it. Next was opening the balcony doors to let in the fresh air, and then the fluffing of pillows and straightening of the quilt and bed sheets—Aelin may have teased him a little by saying that the sheets were too tight, and then too loose, having to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing as he huffed at her ever-changing mind, until she decided that the sheets were just right after five minutes of readjusting.

Aelin watched it all with a small smile on her face, even as she grumbled about his fussing tendencies—but she knew he did it from a place of love, and that he wanted her and the baby to be comfortable.

He even went as far as to check her forehead, and gave her a wash cloth to freshen her up from her earlier sweating. At least she was already in a cotton nightgown and didn't have to get changed—although she knew that if she had too, Rowan would have brought the clothes over himself.

Once he was satisfied that Aelin was comfortable, he left with a kiss on the lips and a promise that he would see her once he was free, Aelin cracked open the book, but fell asleep thirty minutes later with an unexpected headache, a hand on her stomach.

X X X X X X

It was a rare day when Rowan had an empty afternoon, there was always someone to see, something to do, someone to write back to, that when Rowan finished his meeting with the Lords and Ladies of Terrasen and there was no one waiting for him in the audience chamber, Rowan was the first to leave the meeting, needing to check on Aelin. He hated how pale she looked when he left, but when he spoke to Magnolia quickly, the skilled healer told him that it was perfectly normal, but she would check in on Aelin to make sure that everything was okay—and since he wasn't called for during any of his meetings, he took that as a sign that things were fine.

The fact that the bond was quiet also assured him. He had tugged on it during at some point when one of the Lords was rambling, and he got a tired tug back, effectively telling him that Aelin was sleeping. So he let her be, and he sat in his worried state alone.

Rowan was excited for the baby, to take this step with Aelin, but Gods, he'd also hadn't been this tense, this paranoid that something was going to happen in so long. Rowan didn't think he'd feel like himself until he held their child in his arms, but Aelin still had six months to go.

And sometimes...sometimes he found himself wondering about the child he lost with Lyria. What they would have looked liked, if they would have been tall and broad like him, or slim like her. He also wondered how long their child would have been safe before Maeve claimed the child, having them trained to be a warrior like Rowan, or if Maeve would have cast them aside like she had done to Lyria, who Maeve saw as nothing but a pawn to use and toss aside.

His thoughts kept spiralling, his mind going from one thing and another, but stopped when he heard the sloshing of water and a relived sigh once he got closer to his rooms. He made his way through the space and soon came to the bathroom where Aelin was resting against the porcelain tub. Her skin was a light pink from the hot water, but otherwise looked healthy.

Rowan just stood and watched her for a moment and let the contentment from the bond wash over him. The steam danced through the air, carrying Aelin's scent with it, and the indescribable scent of their child within her.

“Are you going to stand there all afternoon?” Aelin asked, her eyes still closed, “or are you going to join me?”

Rowan decided to join her, managing to hold back his wince as he made contact with the boiling water—how Aelin found the hot as hell water relaxing he would never know.

When he was comfortably behind her, Aelin leaned against his chest, and took his hands and placed them against her growing belly.

“Magnolia visited me a few hours ago,” she said. “She says that soon the nausea will pass.”

“Good,” he said, letting the words settle in him.

Rowan was about to lean back against the bath when Aelin's fire filled the air in thin ribbons, moving as smoothly as water as it flew past him. His own magic moved in response, and soon his ice and wind joined her fire, going around the room, filling it up with the differences in temperature. And from the tub, a water butterfly the size of Aelin's palm lifted into the air, its movements delicate but strong as it came towards him. Aelin turned to look at him, her brows furrowed lightly in concentration.

The butterfly came to rest on his nose, and then exploded in his face.

Aelin laughed at his incredulous expression. Rowan shot forward and flicked water in her face, and soon almost all of the bath water was on the floor as they splashed at each other back and forth.

Rowan's troubles melted away with his ice and Aelin forgot about all of her nausea and stress temporarily.

Aelin couldn't wait to meet her baby, and she knew that Rowan was the same.

Six months couldn't come soon enough.

[fangirlovestuff]

Seasons of Love - Chris Evans x reader

a/n - hey lovely people!! this idea would not leave my head and i really like it so here i am writing it:) the years in the fic are according to chris’ birth year (1981). also, this is more chris centeric, which i haven’t really done yet and i liked how it came out, i’d love to hear your thoguhts on that if you have any! enjoy<3

Summary: the story of chris and you, told through specific seasons of your life. a fluffy (and a bit angsty) coming of age story.  

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: like one bad word i think, a teeny bit of angst

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Summer, 1998. 

It was a special summer. Chris always knew he'd remember this summer forever. It was the first summer he fell in love.

"Summer is full of possibilities."

You and Chris just finished hiking a trail not too far from home, your water bottles nearly emptied due to the heat, your clothes slightly disheveled. Not too different than any other time you did that together.

The two of you were sitting down under a tree, watching the view, when you spoke that sentence.

"It is," Chris agreed. He turned his head to look at you and continued, "that's kinda awesome."

"Yeah," you said softly, still not looking at him, "but it's also scary as fuck." You chuckled dryly. "It's our last summer. What if we don't make the best of it?"

"It's not 'our last summer'," Chris chuckled, "it's just…"

"Our last summer," you completed with a grin once you saw he was struggling to find the words, finally turning to face him.

"Whatever," he laughed.

"What do you want to do this summer, Chris?"

He frowned slightly. "I'm serious," you continued, "what do you wanna do? Really."

"I don't… know. Same old, I guess?"

"See, that's why summer is so scary!" you turned your whole body to face him now. "It feels like in no time, our entire lives will be just 'same old'. And we'll have endless possibilities, but it will still be just same old! I refuse to admit I'm that boring," you huffed, "at least for now."

"So, what do you want to do this summer?" Chris asked with a smile, amused by your antics.

"Something remarkable. Something I can tell my children about and say, 'when I was your age, I did…' whatever it is we'll do, you know?"

"I guess," he shrugged.

"Okay, so what's something you've always wanted to do but never thought you could?"

He pretended to contemplate it for a second, and before he could open his mouth you cut in, "and don't say something like eat only candy for a week! Something real," you pointed two fingers towards your eyes and then to him, as if to indicate you're watching him.

"Okay, okay," he chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender, "something real."

A comfortable silence stretched over the two of you as you both thought about it. In truth, you both knew the answer. It was as clear as the summer sky stretching out above you. But in your still teenage minds, it seemed to be as heavy as the noon heat.

When your eyes met his, you laughed softly. "I feel like we were thinking about the same thing, which is kinda stupid honestly. I mean, why wouldn't we ju-"

He swiftly leaned in and planted his lips on yours, the kiss only lasting ever so long before the smiles you both sported got in the way. Your eyes were still closed when you spoke, but you could feel Chris' gaze on you when you started, "yep," you finally opened your eyes and smiled, "definitely thinking about the same thing."

That summer was made of so many forevers Chris truly thought it would never end. Moments that seemed to stretch on in the most beautiful of ways, as if the universe was giving you her blessing, giving you time.

You knew each other so well sometimes Chris thought you were more in his head than he was. And every time he looked into your eyes, every time you laughed, every time he kissed you, every night you spent watching the stars, every day you spent at the beach, or at home, or really wherever, he knew that fear of yours didn't come true.

You two did the most remarkable thing you could've – you've fallen in love.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Autumn, 2000. 

Autumn in LA was different than it was back home.

At home, his mom would probably be stocking up on candy for Halloween, and his siblings would be playing around with their dog in the fallen leaves, and he'd be forced to take a jacket with him even if it wasn't even that cold outside because people cared about him.

Not that in LA they entirely didn't, but it wasn't the same. Mostly because you weren't there.  

You two talked a big game, sure, always making plans to meet soon. But with the both of you being so far apart, and being so busy pursuing your dreams, it never came true.

And when it finally did, after a while, it wasn't like it was that great either.

"I don't… I don't think we… this-" you fumbled over your words and sighed. "I don't want to hold you back."

"I know. I don't want to hold you back either," he sighed, rubbing your arm in a soothing manner.

You were laying on the couch, his arm around you, pulling you close, and really, it was a weird position to be having this conversation in, but at the same time, he kind of couldn't imagine it happening differently.

He understood what you were trying to say. He thought you were right. But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt to hear it.

"I just… I don't think long distance works that well with us," you continued, and then sighed again. "Ugh, this is terrible."

"it kinda is," he chuckled quietly, and you slapped his chest lightly in annoyance. "You know I understand, right?" he said, more serious this time.

"I know. You know I don't really want to do this, right?"

"I know. But I know why you are."

"Good," you said softly. "My flight leaves tomorrow at 8, so we probably won't see each other in the morning."

"Okay," he replied, simply wrapping his arm tighter around you.

He didn't know if he dreamt it, but the next morning, in the early hours before the sun rose, you came into his room and planted a soft kiss on his forehead.

"See you later," you softly whispered, and a few minutes later, the faint sound of the apartment door shutting reached his ears.

Fall at home was a fun time. Chris loved Halloween, loved watching the beautiful leaves fall, the world around him preparing for a winter's slumber. The air was crisp, the heat, on days when it appeared, wasn't as heavy, and the cold not that harsh. It was beautifully balanced.  

Out here though, he started seeing fall not from an outside perspective, but, in a way, from a tree's perspective.

The beautiful leaves fell, and he couldn't reach them again. He was left to stand bare against the oncoming winter cold, a sight that to an outsider would seem impressive, a feat of the majestic strength only nature can possess.

To Chris, it just seemed lonely.

He knew it was a natural process, drifting apart. Just like the leaves falling, it was somewhat inevitable, wasn't it? high school sweethearts were too lucky to be true. But that didn't stop a small but powerful part of him to hope. A hope that didn't come true, and now, where did that leave him?

If autumn at home was balanced, this autumn was anything but. It was almost as if he'd lost an organ, a limb. He couldn't balance the way he did before, he'd have to find a new way, but for now, he just existed in the unbalanced. It consumed his mind, what could he have done differently? Could he have stopped this?

Of course, these questions can't really be answered. Not by him or anyone else. So, he'd grow that limb back. Spring would come, and the leaves and flowers would blossom again.

But that fall, you two fell apart. And in those moments, the bareness of winter seemed insufferable.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Winter, 2006. 

Winters always seemed long to Chris.

As a kid, it was because he couldn't really play outside as much, his mother fearing he'd catch a cold. So, he was sentenced to long days inside, which were often very nice honestly, hot cocoa and warm blankets never in short supply. But kids sometimes can't help but want what they can't have, can’t they?

Well, that notion clearly never left Chris, even if he's not a kid anymore.

Winters were always long, but without you, they seemed longer than ever.

You talked on occasion. You come from the same relatively small town, so losing contact wasn't truly an option, especially because you used to be so close. People would always joke about you being a package deal, hanging out together so much it became second nature.

If Chris became too bored in his own house, or just plain tired of his siblings, it was the obvious thing to go to your house, and vice versa. Now, that refuge wasn't an option anymore.

At first, it was noticeable, like a gaping wound that wouldn't close that he couldn't help running his finger over, checking if maybe it healed already. Now, it was only a dull reminder of what used to be.

It's not like Chris didn't date. He did. And from what he heard (again, small town, friends from childhood. People always filled him up on what you were doing, even when he didn't ask.) you were dating too.

He really had no right to say that it bothered him.

You came up in his mind less and less, as time went on. But winters, being gray, and void of sun, full of storms, were always more introspective. That one especially, no one special really being in his life. Not that it wasn't fun, but he missed home, being grounded, happy. He was happy, in a way, just not the way he was used to.

It was full of contradictions, his mind struggling to make sense of his entangled feelings. You weren't there, and it hurt, but really it was so long since you've been there, and there's no one else at the moment, so was he just missing you or did he just miss loving someone the way he loves y- loved you?

The clean snow a perfect juxtaposition to his clouded mind, he decided to take a walk.

The streets were bustling as always, everyone walking around with a purpose, a destination in mind, which allowed Chris to slip between the crowds, unnoticed. He went to a coffee shop, got something hot to busy his hands with, and continued his aimless journey.

He ended up at a park, sitting down on a cold bench. He took a sip from his cup, wincing slightly at his still hot beverage, before sighing, closing his eyes for a split second before opening them again at the vibration of his phone.

Pulling his phone out of the pocket of his jacket, he held the cup carefully in his other hand as he opened the message.

Think of the devil. Although, you were anything but.

How are you?

Before he could type up an answer, his phone buzzed with another message.

I'll be in town in a week, thought we could maybe get a coffee, catch up. If you want.

He chuckled at the wording. Not a question, but a statement. Well, maybe there was some type of question there, between the lines, but to him, the answer was just as clear as the one to your question many summers ago.

Sure. When are you coming in?

Maybe, spring will be here closer than he thought.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Spring, 2015. 

Spring was the season of rebirth, the blossoms thriving once more, the weather warmer by the day.

You once told Chris spring was your favorite season.

"Really?" he asked, turning towards you, "why?"

"It's a rewarding season. It's like… for the entirety of winter, the trees were standing bare, the animals were confined to their lairs, more or less. And now, they've made it to see the beauty, the profusion. The next year, they do it all again, of course, but spring will always be there to show them it was worth it. Plus, the weather warms up, but not too much, which is a blessing. Especially to your sweaters," you joked, referring to the countless ones you'd pretty much stolen.

But Chris knew what you meant. The blossoms of happiness were spreading out across his life these days. Not everything was perfect, of course, but it was as near perfect as it could be.

"So, what do you wanna do for your birthday?" you asked next, surprising him with the sudden change of topic.

"Uh, I don't know. I haven't really thought about it," he shrugged. "but there's a while yet. Why, you had anything in mind?"

"Not really," you said, "that's why I asked. Anyways, think about it, will you?" you smiled and patted his shoulder affectionately before getting up, probably to put your empty cup in the sink.

He didn't know the answer to that. He had everything he could want and more.

There was something inexplicably comforting about spring. As a kid, springs always seemed like endings to Chris. The end of the school year, the end of a long winter. Only as he grew older he realized that springs are also wonderful beginnings. It was a fresh start, but also respected the past. It seemed to value the experiences of the past, yet prompting you to open a new page, giving the opportunity to start again.

Chris took that opportunity with both of his hands, especially when it came to you. Sure, every spring there would come the time of his birthday, but that was minor. Really, he celebrated you, all year but in spring especially.

Spring was the season of going to concerts together, you laughing at Chris as he's doing his best not to get recognized in his cheesy disguise of sunglasses and a hat. It's the season of going on spontaneous picnics because, "look how beautiful it is outside, Chris!", and he can't tell you no about anything. It's the season of taking Dodger out for long, long hikes, so when he comes home he falls right asleep, usually in your lap. It's the season of going out in the afternoon and it's warm, but by the time you come back it's night and it gets chilly, so Chris gives you his jacket, teasing you about how you always forget your own.

It's the season of preparing for summer as well, going through the cabinets and moving the winter clothes to the back and the summer clothes to the front. It's the season of finally using the pool again, and inviting his nephews and nieces over as well, and watching you splash around with them, carefully of course. It's the season of remembering that first summer together, and how far you've come since, together and individually.

Growing up was never easy. Growing up together was insufferable sometimes. But you fought, and you grew, and you talked things out. Spring, in a way, resembled the fact that you could overcome anything. Even after the harshest winter comes spring in all of its glory, blossom and vibrant colors.

And so, you two set out for one more great spring, and everything that will come after it. Summer was full of possibilities, but together, these possibilities didn't seem all that scary anymore.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

please tell me your thoughts<3 and stay hydrated besties!! btw, i opened a taglist for only chris & his characters fics so tell me if you’d like to join it / move taglists or really whatever you want to tell me i love talking to people:))

Taglist:  @horny-nd-bored​ @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds​ @wintersoldierslut​ @iceebabies​  @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree​ @kaitcordx25 @bequeening​ @steve-barry-damon-logan​ @itscrazycherryblossomcollection​ @hollandxmarvel​ @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland @jazbot2000 @anobscurename @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @peggycarter-steverogers @evansphnx12 @starlightcrystalline @procrastinatingsapphictrash

Chris & co. taglist: @patzammit 

if you wanna join / be removed from a taglist, comment/message me! much love <3

[wangxianficrecs]

Follower Recs

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Hi! First of all, thank you so much for running this blog, It's become one of three reasons why I haven't yet committed arson (I jest but the Feeling is true). [Hee, hee, hee.] I have a rec for you! It's called "wholesome life usurp immediately" by comfect on ao3 and it's. So good. It's unfinished but the author updates it literally every other day if not faster! It's a lovely fic, I hope you enjoy it. 🌻

Wholesome Life Usurp Immediately

by Comfect (T, 55k, yunmeng sibs, qingli, wangxian, WIP)

Summary: Wen Qing examines Jiang Yanli at Cloud Recesses and has a cure for her poor cultivation.

Now there are Three Prides of Yunmeng.

Everything kind of fixes itself from there.

~*~

hello mojo!! I would really like to recommend standing still (but we keep going) by lwjromantics!! it's really good!!

standing still (but we keep going)

by lwjromantics (justfantaestic) (T, 5k, wangxian)

Summary: Lan Wangji supposed that if having to take care of little A-Yuan and Mo Xuanyu and having to look at the reminders of Wei Ying in their habits and mannerisms was punishment for his actions, he would willingly take it and flay his own back open.

— There are children in the Burial Mounds.

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hii mojo! I just read this cute fic and I loved it so I wanted to rec it :) 

Word Up, Talk the Talk

by Larryissocute (G, 2k, wangxian)

Summary:  It wouldn’t have been a problem (it really wouldn’t) if they weren’t best friends. Wei Wuxian doesn’t know what good deeds he did in his past life to be blessed with Lan Wangji as a friend nor does he know what evil things he did to be cursed with being only a friend to Lan Wangji.

Or the one where Wei Wuxian kisses Lan Wangji and then runs away.

~*~

Hey! Love your account — and proud of you for taking the hiatus you needed.  [Lol - it was really nice!]  Idk if you take fic recommendations, but I'd love to rec Roots by ardenrabbit. Fantastic characterization, I really love it!

Roots

by ardenrabbit (E, 46k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary:  After Wei Wuxian's duel with Jiang Cheng, he finds that stab wounds aren't so trivial when he doesn't have a core to heal them. He wakes to find Lan Zhan in the Burial Mounds with him, already beloved by the Wens and making himself at home. When Lan Zhan tells him that he wants to stay and offers more help than Wei Wuxian knows how to accept, he fears that it's only too good to be true.

Lan Wangji knows that Wei Ying is doing the right thing, and he couldn't live with himself if he let him do it alone. For everything Wei Ying has sacrificed, Lan Wangji is determined to give something back to him.

Hanguang-Jun has turned his back on the clans to join the Yiling Wens and their demonic cultivator leader, and every clan has a different opinion on the matter.

~*~

Hello! I wanted to rec a fic on ao3 called "Restoration" by jelenedra. It's complete, an alternate universe of the sunshot campaign told nonlinearly. It has strong fairy tale and fae elements, with a touch of mystery. Bit of a fix it. Some delightful one liners, and the final ending imagery is just LOVELY. The fic deserves much more love. There's also some YilingWei, wwx not raised by Jiang, and sentient Burial Mounds elements. Enchanting read that keeps you enthralled and curious and intrigued.

Restoration

by jelenedra (M, 85k, wangxian)

Summary:  They say he was thrown into Luanzang Gang by the man who killed his parents; they say that he is an immortal cultivator who had been in a deep trance until the Wen sect disturbed his rest and incurred his wrath; they say that he is the fierce corpse of a cultivator who had somehow regained his mind and his spiritual powers.

When Lan Wangji sees him for the first time, he understands why people talk.

Meng Yao wants safety. Xue Yang wants vengeance. The Sunshot Campaign wants victory. Yiling Laozu provides, for a price.

~*~

I usually read all your recommendations. Thanks for gathering all good recs of wangxian. I am in love with every single story your recommend especially the favorites. [I’m so glad!]  I just wanted to suggest a fic i came across while searching for phoenix!wwx. Its a new story I think as author has published it today. The first chapter was very interesting that i thought ill recommend it you and know your opinion. The legendary phoenix and his dragon -Devipriya and Hidden Path to Love by ShadowTenshiV

Hidden Path to Love

by ShadowTenshiV (G, 78k, wangxian)

Summary:  Wei Ying is a servant working at the Gusu Lan castle. One day he enters through a secret passage way connected to the library where he meets a Lan for the first time. He may have left quite an impression, gaining the other´s attention and slowly becoming friends. They would like to become something more, but a servant can´t be with a prince, but maybe his secret can change that.

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hello mojo! i was wondering if I could make a fic rec? it’s called “and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow” by izanyas. it used to be on ao3 but the author has since moved it to eir own website and has started posting updates there. i was wondering if this could also act as a signal boost bc some old readers on ao3 might not have known that it is now on another website.   Author's been through a tough time so I think it deserves a lot more love.

For new readers, please mind the warnings in the prologue and the beginning of each chapter! it’s omegaverse and a very heavy read as it deals with (possible spoiler) off-screen rape that results in an unwanted pregnancy, as well as secondary gender oppression which runs deep, but for people who can bear it the writing, worldbuilding, and emotions are truly spectacular.

and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow

by izanyas (E, 270k, wangxian, WIP, link is to WordPress rather than AO3)

Summary: Cangse Sanren was the first of her kind to become a cultivator. Talented, passionate, free-spirited, she bested everything that ever came her way until the very end.

Jiang Fengmian refuses to see her son deprived of that same freedom.

~*~

Hello Mojo! I dunno if this's been recced before, but here's another ficrec for you? It's complete, on ao3, "The Third Young Master of Qishan Wen" by KouriArashi. It's 'if wwx was raised by dafan wen, but gets recognized as 3rd heir due to his skill' scenario. Some really nice banter and characterization. Wwx and lz get together before the sunshot campaign. Story follows the live action but diverges into au, and does some cool callbacks to original canon. Love Meng Yao in this!  [Oh, I know KouriArashi from my last fandom, I love her works!]

❤️The Third Young Master of the Qishan Wen

by KouriArashi (T, 139k, wangxian, my post)

Summary:  The fic where Wei Wuxian is adopted by the Dafan Mountain Wens instead of the Yunmeng Jiang.

~*~

Hi Mojo! I can count the number of times I’ve spoken on Tumblr on one hand (I’m shy heh) but I found this fic that I think you and others would really like? I’m a sucker for emotional hurt/comfort and this was just too sweet for me not to share (did I go through 20 pages of bookmarks just to make sure you don’t already have it? Maybe …) [Aww, you can do a sidebar search in the bookmarks for the author’s name.  But I hope you found other good fics by carding through the whole catalog!]  It’s “Close Your Soft Eyes” by timetoboldlygo! I also wanna say thank you for all the hard work you put into this blog! It’s a treasure beyond compare. :D [Thank you so much!]

Close Your Soft Eyes

by timetoboldlygo (G, 12k, wangxian)

Summary:  When Lan Wangji woke, the first thing he noticed was the slip of paper, folded and tucked between his index and middle fingers, not Wei Wuxian’s absence. His fingers trembled as he unfurled the paper. A donkey with a little smile beamed down at him.

-

On the nights that Wei Wuxian was gone, Lan Wangji woke to gifts on his pillow.

~*~

Hey Mojo! I love your blog it is beyond awesome! [Thank you!]  I was wondering if you would consider reading JaenysBloodcourt series "A Bond to Takes us home"? The summary is weird but I like the fics and would love to hear your opinion on LWJ POV (it's part 2). Part one is Mingxian but part two (Wangxian) reads as a standalone for the most part. Anyways, thank you for all your hard work! <3 [I’ll put it on my list!]

A Bond to Take Us Home

by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 10k, mingxian - nmj/wwx, wangxian, series in progress)

Summary:  Wei Wuxian has two soulmarks. He has two soulmates that seem to be the opposite of him. During his first life he meets both of them, loves only one and longs for the other. In his second life, the one he loved first is dead, and the one he pined after is pining after him.

These are the many tales of his soulmates and the raucous they made across the cultivation world.

Some are dark, some are light. Beware.

~*~

I forgot to send this in for Mother's Day a few weeks ago, but have you read dragongirlG's "into the light of a dark black night"? It's a short canon divergence where Mama Lan escapes the Cloud Recesses after spending one last, heartbreaking night with her sons. It's so beautiful and bittersweet! [Oh, ouch.  I just read this author’s time travelling juniors au, but hadn’t seen this one.]

into the light of a dark black night

by dragongirlG (T, 3k, Madam Lan & sons)

Summary:  The night that Wu Yuhua, formerly known as Madam Lan, plans to escape from the Cloud Recesses, she runs into an unexpected complication.

That complication comes in the form of her younger son A-Zhan running up to her door and kneeling in front of it, hushed whimpers escaping from his throat.

Wu Yuhua knows it's not the full moon, knows that it's not the one day a month she's allowed to see her children—but like hell is she going to leave her six-year-old son out there trying to stifle sobs in the snow.

She opens the door. "A-Zhan," she says, bending down and reaching out a hand. "Come in, my sweet boy."

On a snowy night in the dead of winter, Wu Yuhua, formerly known as Madam Lan, unexpectedly spends one last night with her sons before escaping from the Cloud Recesses.

~*~

Hello queen I’d like to recommend for ur follower rec posts Avatar: The Untamed Waterbender by KouriArashi. Banger of an ATLA au, def the best one I’ve seen. It’s a WIP but the author updates pretty regularly and it’s all around an A+ fic [Oh, yes, I’ve been waiting for this one to finish before I jump in.]

Avatar: The Untamed Waterbender

by KouriArashi (T, 123k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary:  You know the drill. Long ago, the four nations lived in harmony. Then, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked.

100 years later, Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli find Wei Wuxian sealed in an iceberg.

Featuring: avatar WWX, waterbending JC, firebending Wens, airbending Lans, earthbending Nies and Jins, Jiang Yanli in possession of the brain cell, et cetera.

~*~

[My ko-fi.]

[yuzukult]

effortlessly, the epilogue (m) || jjk & reader

title: effortlessy, the epilogue pairing: jungkook x reader word count: 5.6k genre: the after high school :) + my infamous poorly written smut a/n: it’s shorter than intended but... it’s out guys! because someone asked me when I planned on posting this and I thought that I was the only one who cared about this epilogue. ;u; Thanks for mentioning it to me, because it motivated me to write it again. Enjoy! series masterlist can be found here

"I want to take care of the planet like Greta Thunberg!"

"Noooo, wouldn't you want to be something cooler? Like a soccer player? How about Lionel Messi?"

"Forget soccer! I want to do something even better... make computers like Steve Jobs!"

One of the children frowns, shoulders slouching in disappointment and frustration of his classmates. Leaning down, you brush away the bangs that cover his eyes, gently pinching his chubby cheeks full of love and care. "What's wrong, Jaemin?"

"I don't want to be like Greta Thunberg or Lion Messi or Steve Work!" He exclaims, arms thrown in the air. 

"It's Lionel Messi and Steve Jobs, Jaemin!"

"Okay, okay," You say soothingly, hands cupping and thumbs rubbing against the flesh of his cheeks delicately. "That's fine, Jaemin, you don't have to be like those people if you don't want to. You can choose whatever profession you want, and whomever you want it to be like." 

"I want to be a swimmer, like Jeon Jungkook!"

"Mm," You hum, tapping your finger against your chin as if you're pondering about Jaemin's idea. "You could, if you'd like. Have you ever met Jeon Jungkook before?"

"No," He pouts, his bottom lip jutting out in dismay. "But momma showed me videos of hyung online and he seems like a very kind person." Nodding, your hands fall into the ones of Jaemin's, swaying your arms together to calm his nerves. Children tend to be very emotional, you learn after the many years of experience with them, and Jaemin is no exception. Finding ways to tame their anxiousness was the true challenge. "Want to hear a secret?"

His eyes widen as large as the cartoons he watches on TV. "Yes! What's the secret?"

Pretending to glance out to confirm that the coast is clear and that the other children had walked away to find something more interesting to direct their attention to, you whisper into Jaemin's ear. "Jeon Jungkook was my best friend."

Jaemin gasps. "No way. Your friend? Are you just saying that to me so I can feel better?" Yes, is what you really wanted to tell him, but truth to be told, you weren't lying. Kids were incredibly smart for even noticing that adults would say things to water down the situation, but you weren't just saying anything. "Of course not. Jungkook and I go way back, way before he became a professional swimmer. I used to go to all his practices, hung out with him after them, and even attended classes with him... just like you're in one right now!"

"Do you think... Do you think you can ask Jungkook hyung to come visit us? Maybe? If you're still friends with him..." He drifts, the thought of not being able to see his hero weighing down on his shoulders again. "I'll see what I can do," Standing from where you've been crouching, you ruffle Jaemin's hair with a soft sigh escaping your lips. "Now go play with the other kids. Remember, you can be whoever you want, and everyone else can be whoever they want as well."

Right before the clock hits 3:00PM, you verify that all the little kids are geared up in their beanies, puffer jackets, shoes, and some with gloves, in preparation for their parents' arrival. When the doors open and the children line up, leaving one by one, their nose and cheeks tint pink at the harsh winds, shivering yet at the same time cheering in glee when they see their guardians pull up. 

Watching the smiles on their faces reminds you of the time that you hated the winter; brisk air smacking your cheeks in pain, freezing your face in position, fingers stiff from being exposed to the outside, and constant shaking just to warm yourself up in a clownery large winter coat. Yet, this time around, you find yourself fond of the weather, the thought of being able to spend time with your loved ones approaching and activities that could only be done during this specific season. 

"Ready to head out?" One of your co-workers asks, just as bundled up as you are, learning your lesson after leaving without a jacket that wasn't thick enough before a day ago. "Yeah, I am. Let me just get my purse first, Naeun."

It's a constant cycle everyday: swipe your transit pass onto the bus, get off, walk an obscene amount of distance, if it's a good day then you'd stop for coffee, get to school, and prep for the day before calling the students in to take attendance, then that's when the teaching starts. 

But something about today feels great, despite the snow falling from the sky that nearly has you slipping on the ice from lack of attention to anything in front of you. So, you grab something hot. After all, what's better than a cup of hot chocolate in the morning right before you're stuck in a classroom full of twenty first-graders?

Following your medium sized peppermint hot chocolate (you're rather quite enamored that you're able to find a peppermint flavor because it's your favorite), hopping out of the coffee shop with glee, you're ready to be on route to work again.

Then someone obnoxiously honks their horn.

You show no regard to this, mostly because it makes no sense to. Someone who's driving a flashy neon yellow Porsche is already gaining all the unnecessary attention in the first place, and you're not really in the mood to be categorized within that population. 

But the beeping doesn't stop.

Oddly enough, it actually feels like the car is following you. Sweating profusely, you're debating whether or not to glance to see who the driver is. Just then, your phone dings.

jeon jungkook [6:57AM]: i've been trying to get you to turn around for the past 10 minutes, could you please stop walking faster? at this rate you're going to be a runner?

Instantaneously, you stop in the midst of your steps, sharply twisting on your heel to see the owner of the flamboyant vehicle. There he was, with the driver's side window rolled down, exposing those pearly white teeth of his, paired with a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

Typical.

"Jeon Jungkook, fancy meeting you here."

"Not really fancy if I had to check your location services to see where you've been. It's not fun being ignored, love." He has his arm rested on the opening, watching as you purse your lips and bounce on the tips of your toes. "Mm, wonder why that is."

"Don't be like that," He frowns, chin sitting on his arm. "Come, I'll drive you to work. Maybe we can talk along the way."

"I'm not really in the mood to talk to you at seven in the morning, Jeon."

"Please?" He begs, pools of brown that match the liquid in your cup and the sweetness it entails. Just his voice alone was warm, shooting into your chest and you're trying to convince yourself that it's the drink, not him. "Fine." You respond through your gritted teeth, rounding the hood of the car to enter the passenger seat.

Jungkook looks so happy he could burst.

On the ride to work, you don't talk. He speaks casually, sharing stories about his adventures, ones that you don't really want to hear about or was it that his current attire that's causing your mind to get fuzzy? Baby blue dress shirt with just a couple of the buttons let loose, tucked into those dark grey slacks that hug his thighs so well, that you needed to avert your eyes or else he'd see you checking him out.

He does in fact, to the point that he needs to hide the smirk that dangles on his lips, but he refrains himself because getting you to forgive him is a difficult task alone, and teasing you wouldn't get him anywhere. 

"Pull up here," You demand when he's driving by the perimeter of the building. "You don't need to drive into the yard. I don't need the teachers thinking I'm hanging out with someone driving a construction safety yellow car."

Jungkook is admittingly disappointed, hoping that he gets more time with you but he did choose a work day to meet you. "Can I see you after this?" He's suddenly bashful after approaching you confidently earlier, no semblance of high school Jungkook hinted in his personality anymore. "I don't know. Maybe. We'll see." With that, you slip out the car, greeting the parents that you pass by, sharing that beaming smile that he was wishing was for him instead. You're prettiest when you're working—the way you're talking to your students as they begin to line up to enter class, tapping their noses with your drink in hand, drowning in your oversized coat. You seem at your happiest, suddenly regretting his recent absence from your life.

Reminiscing back to the time of when you didn't know what you wanted to do with your life, where you wanted to go, and who you wanted to be were questions that were constantly thrown up in the air. He recalls those nights where he'd hear your whimpers through the wall between the bedroom and the living room, sitting at the coffee table in frustration while he prepped for bed. Life had been a crazy journey for the both of you, especially when he had gotten invited to pursue in other work opportunities. 

You're thankful when you leave work that day and don't spot the rubber duck colored car anywhere near the schoolyard, yet at the same time, slightly despondent that he didn't return. "You look down," Naeun points out, nose peeking from her scarf with her hands dug deep into the pockets of her jacket. "Expecting someone?"

"Kind of, not really," You confess, letting out a heavy sigh with water vapor in the air. "But not surprised anyways."

"Does it have anything to do with a cheddar cheese looking car?"

Choking on your saliva, you attempt to clear your throat at her recognition. "How'd... you know it had to do with a yellow car?"

She leans over, gesturing in the direction behind you with her chin. "Other than the fact that it's hard to miss a car that bright in the morning, you coming out of it is also attention grabbing. Plus, he's over there, parked in the corner with a swarm of little kids around him."

Flinching, you look in her direction, the sight of Jungkook seated on the hood of his ridiculous vehicle, uncomfortably bending over to reach the height of the flock of little children with their parents, signing autographs and exchanging words with them.

You can't tell if it's cute or making your blood boil.

When you walk over to him with Naeun by your side, he looks up with that annoying smile on his face again. "Jeon Jungkook." 

"See, Jaemin? She does know me." Jungkook teases, messing up the little boy's hair. Jaemin has a look on his face that screams nothing but elation, spilling with happiness that couldn't be fulfilled until he met his idol, Jungkook, the Olympian swimmer. "You were right! He is your best friend!"

"I said was, but you get the point." Jungkook jerks up, quickly shuffling to dip his head in the window opening of his car, pulling out a drink, handing it to you. "Would someone who was your friend get you your favorite drink?"

In a medium Starbucks cup, there's an iced cold brew with cold foam sitting on top—a drink that you had grown attached and addicted to in your first year of University, ordering it so frequently on the daily that you had to wean yourself off it. "Cold brew," You clarify, taking the drink gleefully. "I guess you remembered."

Naeun extends her hand at Jungkook, requesting a shake. "Oh my god, Jeon Jungkook, I'm a big fan. I heard that you were recently sponsored by Nike—crazy! She—" She's referring to you with a glare "—never mentioned that she was friends with a professional swimmer!"

"Didn't think it was important," You add, swirling before taking a sip of the liquid gold. "Knowing someone who swam for your country's Olympic team isn't usually brought up in an everyday conversation."

She rolls her eyes as Jungkook gifts her a warm handshake, hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. He's dressed for comfort, this afternoon as opposed to this morning, and you're curious of his schedule yet you don't ask. "Kids, time to go home, don't leave your parents waiting." You dismiss the children who whine in reaction. "But we want to talk to Jungkook!"

"I'll be back tomorrow!" He confirms, and they run away in excitement, earning a groan from you. "Tomorrow? You're actually expecting to be back tomorrow?"

"Why? You don't want to see me?"

"Jungkook, why are you even back?" You exasperate, fingers running through your tangled locks. Jungkook is starting to frustrate you and all you want to do is go home and snuggle under the covers while watching a movie while possibly grading some papers. "What's the point of all this?"

He pouts, an arm snaking around your waist to pull your frame close. "I literally came to see my girlfriend and all she does is push me away. Isn't that crazy, Naeun? The girl of my dreams agreed to date me then she pretends that I don't even exist."

Jaw dropped, Naeun can't even formulate a sentence with the new information. "I know what you're going to say next, 'why didn't you—'"

"Why didn't you tell me you had a boyfriend this entire time? Why didn't you even mention that it was Jungkook! You just faked the entire time that you weren't with someone while I was tricking you into going on dates—"

"You set her up with guys?" Jungkook's brows furrowed at Naeun before looking down at you. "You let her set you up with guys?"

"I didn't go to any of those dates she organized," You mention, bringing the drink to your lips again, truly the only thing that calms your nerves despite the chaos unfolding in front of you. "I vaguely said I wasn't interested."

"You could've just said that you had a boyfriend!"

"Well, you weren't around to prove it, so did it really matter?" Shrugging your shoulders, you escape from his grasp to drag the zipper of your jacket up higher. "Anyways, I'm out. Get home safe, Naeun, let me know how it goes with that mechanic guy tonight." Tugging up your sleeve for a better view of your watch, you nod. "My bus is coming soon—"

"—I'm literally standing right here and you're still going to take the bus?"

"I'm going to take this as my cue to leave..." Naeun chimes in, quickly waving goodbye. "I'll see you tomorrow then, Jungkook-ssi?" And he nods in return, watching as she walks away.

"I can't believe you would just waltz in here like you can do whatever you want." You hiss, nearly squeezing the cup in your hand but the cold brew inside is too valuable to let go to waste. "This is my workplace, not my house."

"I would go to your house if I knew where it was. You turned off your location yesterday."

"Maybe you shouldn't have outed yourself the first time, then you would've known." He moans, pushing his hair away from his face. The length has grown tremendously since the last time you saw him,  reaching his chin with the ends curling into the shapes of his eyes when he's gleaming with a grin. "Why are you making things so difficult for the both of us?"

"I'm not." You respond nonchalantly, blinking blankly at the man before you. 

Jungkook tugs on your arm. "Then let me take you home, to our home, really, since you decided that you wanted to move out without me here when the lease ended."

"I told you I didn't want to live where stalkers were standing outside my place."

"And I told you that you should call the bodyguard my company said they'd provide for you. Why didn't you call? Why didn't you tell me?"

Truthfully, you didn't want to go through the complications of the process of getting someone to consistently watch over you on a daily basis—it was easier to just up and leave, find somewhere else to reside instead of getting attacked by his fans. "It was too complex," allowing him to pull you in between his open legs as he rests on the hood of his car. "Plus, why would I want to ask help from a guy who wouldn't even come home for our anniversary? Easier to leave instead of being disappointed all the time."

The edges of his mouth drops. "Don't say it like that. I had to work, or else I would've taken the first flight back home. All the opportunities just so happen to be in the States."

"Go live there then, you don't need to come back. It's convenient for you to find a place there anyway."

"I'm not leaving you, idiot." He counters back, irritated that you're even making such suggestions. "I told you this every single time we meet again, every phone-call, every facetime. I won't move unless it's with you." The look in his eyes is hypnotizing mixed along with his words, swaying you into his direction unless you shake your head from the thoughts, stepping back. "Fine. Drive me home, whatever. Your stuff is still there anyways. I guess you still somewhat live with me."

Jungkook takes this as a victory.

In all honesty, he loves the idea of a domestic relationship. Jungkook loves having to wake up in the morning with you sleeping on the other side of the bed, corners of your eyes filled with dry boogers that'll probably hurt when you decide to get up, and brushing your teeth together, side by side, shoving each other just to be able to spit in the tiny little sink in the apartment. He argues that he could help pay for a better place, but you reject him regardless, wanting to stay in a more affordable place, one where you can go halfsies on.

He misses watching you hover over the stove, obnoxiously monitoring whatever it is you're cooking for dinner, only for him to call you out and take over instead. Or when you're doing work on the floor with your papers and laptop sprawled across the coffee table, leaning back when your shoulders get tired, resting in between his legs with your back against the body of the couch. 

So on the route of driving you home, that’s all he can think about as you sit in silence. 

This was definitely not the plan. 

Parked in the garage of your apartment complex, the fluorescent lights don’t do a good job of piercing through the tinted windows of Jungkook’s car, which you’re super thankful for despite the obnoxious primary color he chooses. The steam fills the glass, hand pressed against the armrest on the door as you’re panting heavily, an uneven match with Jungkook’s. He has a grip on both your ass and hips, guiding as you’re grinding yourself on him, wishing to be closer than you already were.

How he has you out of your jeans is unknown. Your jackets have already been throat into the some-what backseat, your dress shirt unbuttoned with your breasts spilling from your nude bra, and his shirt is hiked up just enough to catch a glimpse of his abs. Swimming requires him to keep his body in shape and there’s no complaint from you on that.

Mouth opened, he let out a groan, feeling your tightness around his cock that made a drop of sweat fall from his forehead. “Fuck,” He curses, the sight of you in front of him clenches his heart. Jungkook thinks you’re so pretty under this light— even prettier than when he knew you in high school, it’s like the longer he knows you, the more infatuated he is. When you gyrate your hips aggressively, he suddenly can’t take it anymore, hands trailing up your spine, pushing you down against his chest before he digs his feet into the carpeted floors, hips piston up into you. 

The new angle has your stomach in knots, a soft gasp falling from your lips that only encourages him to go harder. “Can you come like this?” 

“Touch me,” You respond, and it comes out nearly as a whine but you’re too busy being fogged up by pleasure to even care. “Jeon, please,” Begging at this point, he slips himself between the two of you, thumb rubbing against the bud as your grip on his shoulders clasp firms, lips against the flesh of his neck. 

“You’re going to come now, aren’t you?” 

The way he says it hints an arrogant smirk, one you’re bothered with but you’re in the middle of something currently. It’s rhetorical, to him, because your pussy is convulsing around his dick that he’s almost reaching his limit yet he waits for you patiently. “I’m gonna—”

“Let go, baby,” He manages to say through a heave, your eyes tightly shut closed before you reach your orgasm; a melodic moan finally releasing into his ears that he’s been expecting all night, one that you’ve been holding back to showcase that you’re still mad at him. Jungkook couldn’t care— well, just right now, since he has his dick in you, thrusting away until he hits his own orgasm, ropes of cum coating your swollen pink walls.

You’ve grown limp against his body, nose snuggled into the crook of his neck, breathing heavy but slowed from previously. He misses having you like this, bare and close to him, skin feeling light from post-sex. “I love you,” He hums, pressing a gentle kiss on your shoulder. “Let’s get you cleaned up?”

Nodding, you barely have the strength to push yourself off his body, but he doesn’t let go of the grip he has around your mid-frame anyways, sliding the back of the seat up to straighten yourselves. Leaning over to the glove compartment, he snatches a couple tissues before slipping his limp dick out of you, wiping away your mixed come. 

When he eventually has the both of you dressed, you lead him into the building, in the elevator and up to the floor of your apartment, cheeks still tinted rosy from the act in the car. Jungkook doesn’t mind it though, he thinks it’s cute that you’re embarrassed.

If this is what it’s going to be like forever— the warmth that you give, despite the words that come from your mouth, the affection and care that you distribute just for him, and the newfound confidence you’ve discovered during college that you’re not afraid of showing him... he wants it. Forever.

“Mm, so you’re telling me that you still fucked him even though you said that you were mad at him?” 

Yura is adorable with her little baker’s hat on, working endlessly in the kitchen of her new bakery that she decided to open in Seoul after graduating culinary school. Luckily for you, it’s close enough to your apartment that you found yourself stopping by to visit frequently, stealing the goods that don’t make it out to the display fridge.

“... Possibly. I don’t know. I couldn’t help it— I didn’t get dicked down in forever. And no, don’t talk about using the dildo you gave me last year, I haven’t even touched the thing.”

“What? Nothing in comparison to Jungkook’s meaty, girthy—“

“Oh my god, please don’t continue that sentence,” You wince, palm against your forehead. “It was good, alright? I mean, sure, I finished myself off when I’m alone but yesterday, in the car—”

“You hoe— you didn’t only give your vagina to him, but you gave it to him in the car? You couldn’t even wait, could you? And what now, is he living back at the apartment?”

“I mean... he said he didn’t get a hotel because he wanted to sleep in his own bed again...”

Yura laughs, clapping her hands in amusement as the powder hits her face. “You’re so funny, you know that? Why do you keep playing this charade when you could just... let him back in?”

You sigh, plopping your body down onto the stool by the counters, elbows against the floured tops. Truthfully, caving into all the mistakes Jungkook made was something too common from you, wishing that he wasn’t good with his words and affectionate whenever he’s around you. He missed an anniversary, a 6th year anniversary, and from what you read on the forums online, it’s one of those years where relationships start to get bumpy.

“I just— I don’t want to be easy, you know? I let him get away with everything, and it’s not fair that he’s all the way in the States, doing whatever it is he’s doing, while I’m here, watching twenty to thirty little kids everyday. And I can’t tell him to stop what he’s doing because well— it’s his dream, Yura, who am I to stop him?”

“You don’t,” She responds sharply, glaring at you through her floured lashes. “You should’ve gotten on a plane to the States. It’s your anniversary, as in both you and Jungkook. It’s not his designated job to come here when it’s an anniversary to celebrate the both of you.”

There she goes again, even 6 years later after high school, Yura exhibits the realities of a situation, especially the ones that you’re in. 

“I guess...” You say faintly, slowly reaching your surrender. 

“No guessing. Please leave and go look for him. Tell him that you’re sorry, that you’re not going to be a big baby anymore. You’ve been with him for six years, and no matter how mad you get at him, he’s always coming back for more and attempting to make it up to you. Also, it’s 6:30AM... shouldn’t you already be on your way to work?”

“Oh, right, fuck, okay, thanks, Yura!” Jolting out of the bakery, you’re practically running to the school when you halt in your route at the sight of the familiar neon yellow car that’s parked on the school yard, yet again.

“I’m Jeon Jungkook, and I’m on South Korea’s Men’s Swim Team. I’m training for 800M Freestyle Swim again, and possibly, maybe, planning to retire soon.”

Retire? The word that slips from Jungkook’s mouth is unfamiliar, mostly because he had never discussed this with you before, causing you to furrow your brows in perplexity at him as he stands in front of the black chalkboard in your classroom full of children. 

“I actually lived next door to your lovely teacher here, and we grew up together. She even coached me early in my years since I didn’t have anyone with credentials to show me. We both used to stare at the computer, day and night, renting videos from the library, and spending most of our time together just so that we could improve on my skills...” As Jungkook babbles on to the students, Naeun nudges you in the stomach.

“What?” You hiss in a whisper. Softly, she responds, “You never told me any of this! I thought we were friends! You’ve been hiding from me that you’re dating an Olympian and that you guys knew each other since you were little? What else haven’t you told me?”

“Mm,” You hum, arms crossed over your chest. “I got recruited to shadow coaches back in the university Jungkook and I attended. I rejected their offer and went undecided before coming to terms that I’d teach.”

Naeun is taken aback by all this information, stumbling back to the edge of your desk to regain her balance. “You were recruited to coach? And you rejected that offer? Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because swimming is Jungkook’s dream, not mine.”

During college, evidently enough, you had been struggling endlessly trying to figure out what you wanted to do with yourself. There were moments where you considered taking a gap year— a break from it all, go somewhere maybe to finally understand yourself and what you want to do. Jungkook’s eyes when you mentioned it to him grew wary, sad that he couldn’t be there to help you but just stare at your helpless expression through the screen of his phone. 

One thing you knew for sure, you didn’t want Jungkook to pity you. (Although, he never did. He was just too in love and couldn’t see the girl of his dreams sad.)

So you pushed harder. Met with people, asked about their experiences, requested for a mentor, and just researched. It was exactly like the time Jungkook told you he wanted to swim, so you obsessively tried to find any information on it so that you could teach him and show him things he could do in the water.

You learned that if you wanted something bad enough, you grew a drive for it.

It might’ve been when Jungkook realized that you were great at coaching. When he tried to sway you into coaching people because you were great and motivating people to do better, to try harder, and all of this without overworking them to the point of turning into dust. Despite everything, you didn’t want to coach swimming— and soon learning, you didn’t want to coach any sport. But the closest thing to it was teaching.

And a teacher was what you became.

There was already enough experience in teaching someone, or in this case, tutoring, because Jungkook sucked at it back in grade school. He always needed help, and that’s where you swooped in. Arms filled with notebooks, backpack dragging you full with textbooks while you stood at Jungkook’s front porch, ready to confuse him with letters and numbers that he learned he didn’t even need now.

“Did you know he was thinking about retirement?” Naeun sneaks in again. You shake your head, watching your boyfriend answer questions from the crowd. “No, I didn’t. He’s never even mentioned that word to me, ever.”

Just as Jungkook finishes, you holler out for the class to settle down, pushing him aside as he bumps back into the wall with a grin on his face. “Ok, class, since it’s 5 minutes before recess, I’m just going to let you guys go off. It is a Friday, so enjoy yourselves!”

Jungkook joins in when you’re zipping up the jackets and tying the shoes of the kids; they’re all too excited for an extra five minutes of recess time, saying something along the lines of, “we should ask hyung to come more often, he makes her happy enough to give us five extra minutes!” and Jungkook stifles a laugh.

Standing against the brick masonry of the building, Jungkook accompanies you. “You’re going to ask me about the whole retirement thing, aren’t you?”

“Was. But you didn’t seem like you cared enough to bring it up to me.”

He sighs, adjusting the beanie on his head. “I didn’t decide until yesterday. I’m going to be in the next Olympics then I’m retiring. I’ve made enough money from the sponsorships and I’m sure I’ll be able to keep my affiliation with Nike ‘til past that.”

Glancing over at him before looking back at the children playing in the yard, you snuggle your nose deeper into your scarf. “Why’s that? Isn’t swimming your dream?”

“It is,” He says, voice genuine and filled with honesty. “I might do some things here and there, maybe train some kid with potential. I just... I don’t know how much longer I can do this thing between us. I’m never going to give up on swimming, and there’s so many opportunities out there for me to do that includes it. But this whole... training for the Olympics thing— I’ve done it already. It’s great, I’ll do another year of it. But by the time the second time I enter, we’ll be hitting that age where it’s time to settle down.”

“We don’t need to have a set time to settle down—“

“I know that we don’t but I’m tired of this whole long distance thing. You’ve been so supportive of my dreams, and I’ve accomplished them already. It’s time that I’m here, by your side, supporting yours.”

There’s silence between the two of you, despite the constant screaming and laughing that’s coming from the playground. 

“I’m sorry,” You blurt and he only looks at you with bewilderment on his face. “I should’ve came to visit you on our anniversary instead of expecting you to come here. It was selfish of me.”

Jungkook laughs, beaming brightly with the sweetest smile upon his lips. “You used to be so timid and shy back in high school. You’ve developed into this woman who’s confident and fierce, sometimes scaring me because I never thought you could ever be like this.”

“Does it make you like me any less?”

“No,” He turns to you, tightening the scarf around your neck in prevention of slipping. “But... it makes me love you more. You’re also admitting things and apologizing. Very huge character development if you asked me. Say, how about we go home tonight and celebrate our anniversary, to make up for the one we miscommunicated about?”

“I’d... like that, very much.” You respond, chewing on your bottom lip bashfully. 

“Now,” He begins, pinching your frozen cheeks gently. “I told you I love you about... a million times since I came back. I’m still waiting for you to say it too.”

He’s still somewhat the same Jungkook from back then, hidden underneath the blanket of adulthood and experiences through college but nonetheless, just as much as he changed, you’ve loved him through every stage he’s gone through. He felt the same. “Love you too, Jeon.” And there it was, the smile that tugs on the edges of your lips that he’s been waiting for, dedicated just for him.