#i actually found a transparent for once

[dancingbirdie]

Okay so on Astarion, I was reading this fic about him not knowing Tavs true intentions with him and it bothering Astarion a lot, so what if he goes to some mage or magic user and asks them to show Tavs true intentions to him, when he does the vision he sees is just... being snuggled. It's Tav on top of him and the both of you are falling asleep, his hands are under your shirt softly petting your skin as your sleepy self is contently snuggled up to him. I just start crying about him finding out that Tavs DASTARDLY and EVIL plan with him, their greatest desire from him... is to simply be held. 🥺

Hi @goblin-creatcher! Thank you so much for this BEAUTIFUL prompt. I, uhh, kind of took it and went a million miles an hour with it. This is honestly one of my favorite things I've ever written. I hope you enjoy it as well! xoxoxo

Something Imagined / Something Real

Word Count: 3.9K

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Warnings/Tags: Brief but detailed description of rough consensual sex, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, minor Act 1 and Act 2 spoilers, FLUFF, angst

Suggested Song Pairing: Slow Dancing in A Burning Room (Stripped) - cover by ST LUNA

Summary: Astarion has been suspicious of Tav’s true intentions toward him. He persuades Gale to cast a spell and reveal her motivations. ANGST and FLUFF ensue. A rewriting of Astarion’s confession scene from Act 2.

The sun had just begun to set on the campsite when Astarion decided to put his plan into action. He had waited until Tav departed with some of the other party members before making his way over to the wizard. Gale was too busy reassembling the bookshelf inside his tent to notice Astarion’s approach. It wasn’t until he gave a polite cough that Gale jumped and whirled to face him. 

“No, no, no,” he began all at once, hands raised in a sort of shooing motion. Astarion stared at him in confusion. “I can respect Tav’s indulging in your need for blood, but as I’ve said before: I taste terrible.” 

Astarion scoffed. “Charming. Actually, wizard, I was coming to request your aid in a different, though somewhat related, matter.”

“Really? Care to elaborate?” Gale responded, still somewhat wary. It wasn’t often he found himself alone with the vampire. 

“Testy, I see,” Astarion crooned teasingly. His knee-jerk response to people treating him like a monster, to behave in the most false saccharine sort of way. 

But he drew up short, censoring himself before saying anything else he might regret. He knew he needed to get on the wizard’s good side if he had any chance of getting the answers he sought. 

“I was hoping you knew a spell to reveal someone’s true intentions. Their… motivations for behaving in a certain way, so to speak,” he finished more seriously. 

Gale pondered the question for a moment before answering. 

“Hmm… yes, there is magic to determine that sort of thing… Although it’s been some time since I practiced it…” He trailed off, rubbing his chin in thought. 

“Why are you asking for such a thing?” he asked suddenly. 

Astarion had been prepared for this question, of course. No one did anything for free, no questions asked. He delivered his explanation perfectly, as he’d been rehearsing in his mind.

“One might say our dear sweet Tav and I have been growing a bit… closer these days, but I can sense a master manipulator when I see one. I just simply want to ensure their intentions toward me - toward the party - are true,” he replied with mock innocence. 

“Ah, yes,” Gale nodded. “I gathered as much when the two of you slipped away from the tiefling’s party a few nights ago.” 

“But,” he continued on,”I needn’t think you should worry when it comes to Tav. She seems about as transparent as they come. I’m sure any intentions she has toward you are true.”

Yes, but the best actors always mask their motivations behind innocence and transparency, Astarion thought to himself. I should know. I’ve been doing it for centuries.

After the party’s unfortunate meeting with that Gur in the Sunlit Wetlands, Astarion realized he would have to take potential threats from Cazador even more seriously. He wasn’t about to lose his freedom, not now that he finally had some small taste of it. 

It didn’t hurt to be more suspicious of everyone he encountered, even the sweetling Tav. Anyone could be an operative sent by Cazador, and the best ones would be as skilled as he was in the art of manipulation. It was well-known at this point that the person he’d grown the closest to on their journey was their brave party leader, Tav. Unlikely as it may be that she was scheming for his master, Astarion’s paranoia wouldn’t let him indulge in interactions with her a second longer unless he knew how she truly felt. 

Given Gale’s hesitation, Astarion knew he would have to kick his acting up a notch. Press on that wizard’s heartstrings. Touch the one nerve he knew he was sensitive to.

“Gale, darling, from one literally damaged soul to another, indulge me just this once,” Astarion beseeched him. 

The wizard glared at him a moment, before finally relenting with a heavy sigh. “Fine. Fine. But I want it known that I don’t agree with this so-called solution one whit,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Yes, yes, noted and formally documented, on my word as a former Baldurian magistrate,” Astarion replied cheerily. “So, let’s hop to it then, shall we?”

“What, right now?” Gale asked, shocked. “Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know, a little less conspicuous?” 

“What better time than now?” Astarion responded. “Tav’s out gathering firewood with Wyll and Karlach. They won’t be back for some time. As for Lae’zel and Shadowheart, well…” he paused, gesturing over his shoulder. 

Said two were engaged in a heated sparring session on the outskirts of the camp. Snarls and curses could be heard emanating from both warriors as they tried, and failed, to gain the upper hand against their opponent.

“That lovers’ dance could go on until morning,” Astarion finished. 

“Fair point,” Gale admitted begrudgingly, grimacing at the sound of swords clashing violently. “Very well. Let’s get started.” 

Clearing his throat, Gale began to utter a series of phrases completely foreign to Astarion. He watched as the wizard began moving his hands in a wavelike pattern, forming a circle before them. Suddenly, a mist began to form from seemingly thin air, taking shape according to the boundaries Gale’s hands were creating. The mist grew more and more opaque until it appeared before them like a clouded mirror. 

As the fogginess of the ethereal magic began to clear, the “mirror” became a confusing blur of scenes whipping by, too fast for Astarion or Gale to really comprehend. There were flashes of Tav and Astarion, together and separate, but they disappeared too quickly to ascertain their context. It was as though the spell was shuffling through the entirety of Tav’s thoughts, assessing each one at breakneck speed. 

Finally, the spell slowed to a halt, stopping on one scene in particular. Astarion was struck speechless by what began playing out in the foggy portal before them. So distracted, he didn’t even notice Gale’s tight cough, or how the wizard suddenly became intensely interested in a copse of trees nearby, rather than the revelation the spell was revealing.

Not that the scene was especially profound, objectively speaking. In fact, to anyone else, it might be viewed as the least revelatory thing possible that the spell could have shown. Boring. Inconsequential, even. But to Astarion, it was almost earth shattering. 

He saw himself - he could see his face! - with Tav, lying tangled together in some immaculate four-poster bed. 

That was the first shock that coursed through him, nearly causing his knees to buckle. He was seeing himself for the first time in over 200 years. Or at least, he was seeing himself as Tav saw him. And… the person he saw… Well, he was gorgeous. White blonde locks, curled and tousled in a devil-may-care sort of way. A strong, patrician nose that suggested good breeding. High, sharp cheekbones. Full lips, upturned in a thoughtless grin. Red eyes bordered by long, sweeping lashes. Delicately pointed elven ears. Smooth alabaster skin, without blemish or spot. 

Astarion could scarcely believe his own eyes. 

The second shock to his system was the nature of their activities. He would have been less surprised had the vision shown them fucking. Him taking her roughly from behind perhaps. His name a cry of ecstasy from her lips as he pistoned in and out of her with a feral sort of determination. 

Fantasies of lust, of total domination, now those were things he was familiar with inspiring in the minds of the victims he had taken as lovers. It was what he strove for, in all honesty. Desire like that all but ensured he would capture his prey and live to serve another day for his master. 

But nothing of the sort was occurring between vision-Tav and himself. Instead, they were just… embracing? What in sweet hells was this?

She lay halfway on top of him. Her hair was mussed, perhaps from sleep or perhaps from previous lovemaking. One hand was drawing absentminded shapes across his chest, her lips trailing behind, leaving kisses in their wake. He watched as vision-Astarion chuckled softly, as his hands slipped beneath her sleepshirt to caress her waist, as he placed an innocent kiss on the top of Tav’s head. Eventually, she reached for his hand. They both watched their fingers intertwine, blissfully content.

It was the purest, unadulterated expression of affection that Astarion had ever seen. Something in his heart quaked at the sight of it. He wanted that moment. He envied, he hated, vision-Astarion for enjoying such apparent happiness.

So absorbed in the vision and its implications, Astarion failed to notice the soft padding of feet that indicated someone’s re-entry into the camp. 

“If the two of you are quite finished poking around in my head,” an angry voice suddenly spat from behind them, “I’d appreciate you preserving what little privacy I have left and shutting that damn spell off.”

Mortified, Astarion and Gale turned to see Tav, arms crossed and visibly seething with rage. Gale quickly dispelled the magic with a flick of his wrist. A blush was slowly but surely rising up Tav’s neck to reach her cheeks. Whether from rage or embarrassment, Astarion couldn’t be certain. 

“Tav, let us explain-” Astarion started.

“It was his idea-” Gale blurted at the same time, pointing at Astarion. 

Both paused, glaring at one another. But Tav would have none of their feeble attempts at backpedaling. 

“The explanation doesn’t matter. Whose idea it was doesn’t matter. The fact is that both of you violated the privacy of my mind, which I’ll remind you, has ALREADY been violated by having a bloody tadpole forced inside of it!” Tav shouted. At their words, the camp became enveloped in a heavy silence. Even the crickets ceased their chirping.

Astarion cringed inwardly, knowing the other party members could plainly hear this altercation and had likely stopped whatever it was that they had been doing to listen in. He noted the sounds of swords clanging together had ceased. He was certain Lae’zel and Shadowheart at least were aware of what was happening. Nosy bastards, all of them.

But what disturbed him even more was the realization that Tav’s eyes were welling with tears. She was too proud to acknowledge them or wipe them away. Such was her nature. But they were there nonetheless, and the knowledge that Astarion had brought her to the point of tears was enough to spur a rush of utter self-loathing inside him.

Without another word, Tav turned on her heel and marched stiffly out of camp, toward the direction of a nearby creek they’d identified as a water source earlier in the day.

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to perform that spell,” Gale said as she disappeared between the trees. He dragged his hands down his face. 

“How could we have been so doltish, forgetting that all of our privacies have already been violated with this tadpole business?”

Astarion didn’t have an answer to that. At least, not one the wizard could possibly understand. 

The thought hadn’t occurred to Astarion, he realized, because violations of privacy had been something so intrinsic to his being for over 200 years. He didn’t even recognize it as something abnormal. Like a fish unaware that the water surrounding it is, in fact, water. 

Violations of privacy were a part of life, at least for him. So much so that his request for Gale to perform that magic hadn’t even occurred to him as an overstepping of boundaries. To Astarion, it had simply been a matter of survival. He had needed to know another potentially manipulative person’s true intentions, and so he had found a means to uncover it and maintain the upper hand. 

Belatedly, he also realized that Gale’s hesitation to cast the spell had had nothing to do with being inconvenienced for the evening, but because the wizard had known that it was improper to do to another person. If he had misread that, Astarion wondered, then what other truly benevolent behaviors had he mistaken as pragmatic manipulation?

“I need to go find her,” Astarion murmured, clenching and unclenching his fists in an uncharacteristic fit of uncertainty. 

“Yes, you do,” Gale asserted. “We both owe her a sincere apology… if she’ll even accept it.”

“I’ll see if I can convince her to come back to camp,” Astarion replied, making to leave in the direction Tav had stormed off. 

“Wait,” Gale said, a hand on his shoulder. Astarion turned to meet his gaze. 

“Look, well, I’m obviously not an expert in healthy demonstrations of affection. But I do think it’s obvious from what you saw in that spell that Tav well and truly cares about you. In perhaps the purest way possible. Treat that carefully.”

Part of Astarion wanted to laugh aloud in utter hopelessness at the wizard’s advice. Someone cared for him? Truly and purely? No hidden games, no strings attached? Oh certainly, that wouldn’t be a problem for Astarion at all. Obviously, his 200-year existence as a master-manipulator-fetch-hound for a power-hungry vampire lord had perfectly prepared him to respond to this situation in a healthy manner. Obviously.

But all that was too much to reveal to someone he barely knew and too heavy to say aloud. Rather than giving some smarmy retort, Astarion opted instead to give a stiff nod and continue walking toward the edge of camp. He had no idea how he could make things right with Tav, but at the very least he could try. 

***

He found Tav sitting on a fallen tree near the edge of the creek bed. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she rested a cheek to her knees. In the waning twilight, she reminded Astarion of some misbegotten gargoyle perched on the roof of a temple, solitary and so very sad. 

Her ears twitched as she noted his arrival. Astarion wasn’t trying to be stealthy. On top of everything else, the last thing he needed to do was scare her. 

“Can I join you?” he asked softly, wincing to himself at the awkwardness of the question. 

The reality was that there was no way to broach this conversation without some stilted beginning, and he hated it. Navigating tricky conversations was normally something he excelled at. But as he was quickly finding, when it related to Tav, nothing in his past life had prepared him to respond to her well. 

“If you’d like,” Tav answered tonelessly. 

Knowing it was probably the best response he was going to get, Astarion swallowed thickly and moved to sit down on the log next to her. 

“I… wanted to… apologize for what you saw, back at camp,” he began.

“Apologize for doing it, or apologize for getting caught?” Tav asked as she turned her head to look at him, resting her other cheek on her knees. 

Astarion balked at the question. Her piercing gaze unnerved him. He hadn’t really thought that far. 

“Both, I suppose?” he answered honestly, although it sounded more like a question to Tav. She huffed a laugh.

“You know, part of me really wants to yell at you. Scream in your face. Tell you off proper,” she mused.

“So why don’t you?” Astarion asked, perplexed. 

Tav didn’t respond at first, just sat there studying him. As if by staring at him long enough, she could project the answer into his mind. 

Astarion didn’t interrupt her, much as he would have liked to. Part of him always bristled when people gazed at him for too long. It was unfair that they could study him, when he hadn’t been able to so much as glance at his reflection in over 200 years. 

Finally, Tav released a heavy sigh, her body curling further in on itself. She closed her eyes as she spoke.

“Because then I would be just like every other bastard in your life who’s mistreated you.”

Astarion flinched in surprise. Those had not been the sort of words he’d been expecting. The truth of them cut deeper than had she raged at him like she wanted to. It left him feeling even more vulnerable, and that in turn made him want to retreat into the comfort of viciousness.

“I don’t need you to pull any punches,” he scoffed, glaring at her. “Go ahead and say what you will.”

She straightened up at his tone, opening her eyes and returning his glare. 

“No. I don’t want to,” she said testily.

“I don’t need your pity,” he hissed. “It’s insulting.”

“Gods damn it all, Astarion!” Tav exclaimed suddenly, causing him to jump in surprise. She threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m not doing anything out of pity! I don’t want to rage at you, because I know that whatever I say right now, I won’t mean it come the morning!”

Astarion blinked. Once again he was left feeling flat footed by the turn of the conversation. Sensing his surprise, Tav continued on with her deluge of words.

“You hurt me tonight, and I’m angry at you - and at Gale, for that matter - for what you did. But you’ve shared enough of your… history… with me, that I realize your behavior is just… just a byproduct of centuries of abuse and manipulation you’ve endured! And I won’t be another abuser in your life. I won’t,” she asserted. 

Astarion continued staring at her, as if she were some otherworldly creature that had just wandered across his path. He watched as Tav inhaled a deep breath, releasing it shakily. She turned away from him to peer out into the forest, uncertain. She opened and closed her mouth several times before actually speaking. As if whatever she was about to say was more intimidating to her than anything else she’d said tonight. 

“I… care deeply for you, Astarion,” she said quietly. “You obviously saw that in the vision. I’m not playing any games. There’s no hidden motive. I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

She turned to look at him again before continuing, her breathing a bit unsteady. 

“I didn’t sleep with you that night of the tiefling party as some sort of maneuver to gain your trust. Although I understand if that was your motivation for doing so.” 

Astarion’s expression morphed into one of guilt. But Tav nodded soberly, as if she had already expected it, before continuing on. 

“It’s okay. I’m not angry. But I’m putting all my cards on the table now, so to speak. Actually, your decision tonight forced my hand, but I had been planning on telling you soon anyway. So, there you have it. The truth of my intentions. What you do with that information is up to you.”

She turned back to gaze out at their surroundings. Like she was giving him the opportunity to bolt away without her watching him. As if she expected him to flee from her confession. 

But Astarion didn’t flee. He remained seated, staring at her in complete wonderment. 

“Why?” he asked quietly.

She looked back at him again, confusion evident on her face. 

“Why what?”

“Why do you care for me? You’re so… well-adjusted. And I’m well… this,” he finished lamely, placing a hand on his chest. 

Tav pursed her lips. “It would be a mistake to misconstrue my empathy for you as me being well-adjusted. Everyone has their own demons, Astarion,” she murmured. “Mine just look different from yours.”

Astarion mulled her words over in his mind, considering them. He leaned forward to brace his forearms on his knees, his head drooping slightly. 

“I…,” he started, unsure. “That vision… what it implied… You deserve something real, Tav. You’re incredible… truly.” 

Tav closed her eyes, bracing for the fallout. Even though she would accept his decision, whatever it was, she didn’t think she could bear to watch him deny her. It would hurt too much. 

“Look. When we met, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan,” he blurted all at once. Rising swiftly to his feet, Tav watched as he began to pace before her, near to bursting with frenetic energy. 

“Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me,” he counted off, laughing half-heartedly. “It was… easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do… was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he finished, stopping to stand before her. 

She held his gaze, speechless. 

“I want you,” he whispered fervently. “I want what was in that vision… I want us to be something real.”

Never in a million years had she thought he would respond to her like this. She opened her mouth to speak, but Astarion cut her off with another sudden exclamation. 

“I just don’t know what real is,” he confessed, his tone a touch hysterical. Tav knew from his body language that being this transparent was completely out of Astarion’s comfort zone. 

“Being… close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back. For him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust, and loathing. I… I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to,” he finished, staring at her with beseeching eyes, willing her to understand.

Tav rose to her feet, coming to stand before him. 

“I don’t want you for your body,” she whispered. “Or to perform any acts of intimacy. We can be together, without sleeping together, for as long as you need.”

“Really,” he asked softly, his voice pitched low, rough with emotion.

“Really,” Tav asserted, giving him a small smile. “Would it be all right if…” she paused, conflicted. He eyed her curiously.

“Could I hug you?” she whispered.

The fact that she asked before doing so caused a well of emotion to spring up inside him. Eyes watering, Astarion nodded. 

Slowly, Tav moved forward to wrap her arms around his waist. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck and shoulder. A perfect fit. He felt her exhale a deep sigh.

Tav hugging him was a sensation unlike any he had ever felt. At least, any he could remember feeling. The act of being touched, embraced, without any desire for something more. She just wanted to hold him, feel him close to her. It was incomprehensible to him, but utterly enjoyable, at the same time. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Astarion raised his arms to return Tav’s embrace. Drawing her even closer, he bowed his head to rest his cheek against her hair. It was soft, like the finest silk. He closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, appreciating her sweet, floral scent.   

She made to pull away after a moment, not wishing to overwhelm him. But Astarion gripped her more firmly, a silent urge for them to stay that way a little longer. 

“This… this is nice,” he whispered. 

He both felt and heard Tav hum contentedly in response. 

It wasn’t identical to the vision from Tav’s mind that he had seen, but Astarion reveled in their embrace nonetheless. It felt like the beginning of something new. And for the first time in his very, very long life, Astarion felt excited at the prospects of what would come next. 

[plainandgeneric]

Angry about Lore.fm the "AO3 Audible app"

For those who don't know, Lore.fm is an app that's advertised as "audible for AO3". It uses AI text-to-speech voices to read fics on an app completely separated from AO3 and creates a local copy of the fic audio on your device. It is stated to be non-profit.

1. It's opt-out not opt-in, that alone is a red flag and worthy of suspicion. The only way to not get your fic used without permission is to email them - it is unsafe and dubious to hand out personal email addresses to companies you don't know.

2. It takes engagement and agency away from the authors. Readers using this app don't even need to interact with the original AO3 post. Only a link is needed to generate the audio. An extension would've been significantly more ethical than an app.

3. Valid criticisms towards this project are labelled by the developer as "ableist and classist". Most devices and browsers already have FREE screen readers available. Especially for IOS (since this is mainly advertised for IOS), the existing built-in accessibility screen reader is very decent! I'd know cause I've been using it for more than a decade!

4. The developers show zero transparency. The devs listed for this app are also in a company that made an AI WRITING/STORYTELLING APP called Spinoff. The fact that this information is hidden on the appstore for Lore.fm tells me all that I need to know. I found the source for this on this comment by CupcakeBeautiful. [Edit: Unfortunately, the comment has been deleted by reddit for some reason, so I have removed the link to it.]

This whole thing pisses me off. Once again it shows that people don't respect and don't care about actual fic writers. I wish people would stop exploiting fanfiction authors under the guise of accessibility. Please think carefully if this is a company/project you'd want to support.

I don't usually post things like this on this blog, but I don't think a lot of people are aware of this situation on tumblr. Please feel free to add any information that I've missed. If this post comes off as aggressive, I apologise. I am just very frustrated.

[azfell-ajcrowley]

Something we didn't notice (part 2)

part 1

Overall, the meta is based on close observation of Aziraphale (for the most part) and Crowley. Without speculation or trying to guess what we haven't been shown (well, almost).

The Metatron makes it clear that he is watching Aziraphale delivering the "good news". Aziraphale looks back at him.

The first thing I'd like to explain. The Metatron is talking to Muriel, and then he stares at the window of the bookshop duplicating that gaze toward Crowley. The frame changes and we see Aziraphale looking out the same window, just for a second, but he will do it repeatedly.

As Crowley starts his monologue, Aziraphale tries to stop him by gesturing for him not to say too much, while looking out the window himself. Aziraphale continues to turn to the window with every meaningful attempt to speak.

Let's also note that Aziraphale doesn't usually behave in a similar way in conversations with Crowley. Yes, Aziraphale is characterised by active gesticulation, but the constant pauses, averting his eyes from the interlocutor, nervous and jerky movements - these are messengers that angel is holding something back, hiding or simply doesn't want to tell. Most often we see this Aziraphale in conversations with the leadership - God and Archangels.

https://commonmexicanname.tumblr.com/post/734305363759890432/good-omens-thoughts

Here's a prime example, comparing his interaction with Archangels when he's caught off guard and frantically trying to figure out how to get out of the situation.

I don't think Aziraphale is just lying to Crowley here, no. He just has an audience beyond Crowley. He tries to tell everything, knowing he has more than one viewer.

When Aziraphale mentions the Metatron, he is not just hinting, he points his index fingers - one at the window, another at Heaven, and then in a distinctly active quick motion once more at the WINDOW.

And again - turns his face to the window at the words about Gabriel failing, and then tilts his head towards the transparent panes of the bookshop.

The conversation with the Metatron is important, among other things, to assess Aziraphale's behaviour when Crowley is mentioned by his superiors. At the words about their partnership Aziraphale looks frightened: his facial muscles are tense, his forehead and eyebrows are furrowed, and there is a terror in his eyes.

When the God's spokesman concludes his really suspicious speech, Aziraphale swallows nervously and averts his eyes. He certainly doesn't look like someone who's been offered the fulfilment of his cherished dream. And not like someone who believes it.

Aziraphale looks like someone who has just found out what an enormous amount of incriminating information is in his opponent's possession.

"Tell me you said no. Tell me you said NO." Crowley is definitely shocked and horrified, he thinks the best of his angel. He can't believe what's going on (and he isn't supposed to).

Aziraphale turns his head towards the window again as an answer.

He actually said:

And

We see him right before he walks into the bookshop, he never says yes to the Metatron.

Aziraphale utters his most delusional words while looking out the window. Of course, they're not meant for Crowley. Aziraphale hasn't believed it for a long time, Crowley even more so.

And then Crowley says "Oh, God", without correcting himself afterwards, because this demon can only hope in God here.

For a second Aziraphale has a look of hope on his face that Crowley has realised what he's getting at. Then Aziraphale realises that Crowley is trying to confess. He's waited for so long not to realise. He was about to confess too.

Aziraphale already knows everything Crowley is about to tell him, but more importantly, literally everyone already knows it. It's impossible to stay and start pretending again that there's nothing between them.

Aziraphale has a completely blank stare past Crowley, and then he looks out the window. Again.

And then the most interesting thing happens. Crowley starts his line "And I would like to spend…" But he turns his head and finally looks out the window, where Aziraphale has been pointing so hard since the beginning of their conversation.

Maybe that's the reason Crowley doesn't complete the sentence. And he begins to pick up different words. Maybe not, maybe the sun from the outside is preventing him from seeing the Metatron.

In the final part of their conversation, when they move closer to the bookshop's door, Aziraphale looks towards the window again.

After "no nightingales" line he turns away to hide his feelings and pain.

The cherry on the cake is the kiss, Aziraphale is falling into the abyss. He averts his eyes trying to figure out if the Metatron could have seen what just happened.

When Crowley leaves, Aziraphale thinks he's lost him. But then, even when the Metatron walks in and says devaluing words about Crowley, Aziraphale can't tear himself away from the window, because now he can see Crowley there. Maybe not everything is lost.

Aziraphale retreats back to the clock - to the very spot where Crowley was standing a few minutes ago. He looks out the window at Crowley, as if to say, "I stand where you stood, you stand where the Metatron stood."

[mandalhoerian]

moth to a flame | leon kennedy x reader

pairing: leon kennedy x f!reader

summary: Break-ups are never easy. Thankfully, you've been preparing for yours for a long time. Leon doesn't let this revelation go for reasons you cannot fathom when he's the one who wants to leave.

word count: 9K

warnings: angst, smut, thigh riding, p in v, kinda body worship, switch leon, he subs for like a moment and goes this better not awaken anything in me

notes: i winged this please don't judge me. also, "plot"-wise, this is an extension of my leon love language post. header template can be found here. enjoy the filth

🌀 read on ao3!

📍 continue to the BAD ENDING!

📍 continue to the GOOD ENDING!

In hindsight, you’ve seen this coming. Your face barely moves at your on and off situationship of two years forcing out, “I think we should break this off.” 

So faint and unsure it’s barely above a whisper.  

He looks so uncomfortable hunching over, forearms resting on the countertop, breakfast untouched, as if trying to make himself smaller than you, it’s absurd considering the nerves of steel you envy him for, and sure, he’s adorably awkward sometimes for a man of his looks, but not like this. Never vulnerable like this.

The kitchen is gloomy despite the bright winter sun seeping through the windows, almost suffocating because of his uncharacteristically transparent malaise. Leon isn’t one to openly squirm, and in turn, it’s making you all the more nervous — nothing about this is fair when you were thinking you got all the practice needed from imaginary scenarios and possibilities on all the directions the eventual separation would go.  

He can’t look at you, shaking his head nervously, choked by the silence. “Say something.”

How funny it is that he’s the most fit man you’ve ever known, could lift you with one arm without breaking a sweat— one bicep literally the size of your head, yet looks like he’d cry if someone touched him right now. It’s a hard to swallow, unreal pill that you’re the one doing this to Leon, making him weak like this. 

You’ve never known you had that kind of power over him until now, how he says he wants to break up but would throw up if you actually say yes.  

You shift in your seat, the wood of the chair suddenly digs sharply into your skin with how hyperaware your body is of all the surroundings to deviate your attention from Leon, folding your hands on your lap. 

The answer is at the tip of your tongue, it was stashed away there months ago. Of course you’ll let him go. 

What makes it easier for you is having consented to how absent and private he warned half the things involving him was going to be, or it’s that you knew from the start your time with him would be limited. You just don’t question it; completely skipping the first four stages of grief and jumping readily to acceptance. 

The lamb knew it would be slaughtered by the nurturing, kind humans, and yet it still got attached to them; Homer straight up told the readers how the story would end right at the start of Iliad, yet the fall of Patroclus and the rage of Achilles burned the same, if not worse — you knew Leon would inevitably fall apart and run away one day, yet chose to cherish your limited time with him all the same.

It can’t be called a tragedy if you agreed to how it would end in the first place. 

Leon Kennedy is ephemeral in his nature, daydream-present and lucid-absent in your life all at once. You thought of him as an outdoors cat, never really yours in the first place, randomly shows up whenever he wants to, reluctantly leaves out of nowhere — a flighty, mysterious companion who’s happy and eager to be there but withdrawn when poked and prodded. 

You accept him as such, love him all the same.  

You’re not sure if he loves you just as much. 

Fondness and like is there, enough for him to have stuck around for this long, but you figure it’s because you’re safe and constant. You’re happy to have provided him with at least that because you’re not sure what he saw in you, to be honest. 

What’s happening is painless enough to go through exactly because of this, you hadn’t let yourself get too attached to Leon knowing he isn’t into you as much as you are into him. Maybe you are deluding yourself, maybe you are numb and not as apathetic like you thought you are, but you’re convinced this is how it should go — how it’s meant to go. What’s the point when you’re aware your name won’t be at the top of his list? 

The insecurity surely is a small part of the ‘Leon Kennedy Breakup First-Aid Package’ you’ve been cultivating over time in preparation to cushion your own fall when the time would naturally come, but it doesn’t cover the shape Leon is in that even when he’s the one breaking your heart, he looks like he’s shouldering the pain you’re going through on top of his. 

This is why you can’t ever be mad at him. You wanted to be with him knowing the way he is, after all. 

Leon is a mess despite trying not to show it, his messy straw-blond hair doesn’t shine like it usually does, he hasn’t conditioned it, the golden sheen to it wilted almost. His bloodshot, red rimmed eyes are dim in their blue, laser-focused on the black coffee mug he’s tightly gripping, the skin underneath his lower lashes spread out in faded pink-purple half-rings and it only ever happens when he hasn’t gotten enough sleep in more than a couple days’ time whenever he has to be away for an unprecedented amount of time, or gets buried too long in his paperwork. His thumbs are wiping at the place he puts his lips on and have a sip at the contents of it you’ve seen he fed some liquor to a few minutes prior. He’s awfully domestic in his black sweater and pants, not at all looking like he just asked for a breakup.   

You take pity on him. 

“I see. Alright.”

His head shoots up, eyes immediately finding yours, no longer blank. He doesn’t seem sure if he heard you right, expression disbelieving. “What?”

“How do you want to do this?” Mirroring Leon’s anxious movements, your own fingers trace the rim of your own teacup. “You could start gathering your things today, but if you want to call it a day, I don’t mind—”

“No—wait—what are you saying?” 

“I’m saying okay, Leon.”

He winces at the name, gaze escaping from you again momentarily and he has to blink, the lack of your usual pet name for him must have hurt him, you presume. He has to swallow before talking. “This is it?”

You’re not sure if it’s directed at the end of your relationship or you letting him off easy. “I don’t understand. What else was I supposed to say?” 

“I don’t know, I just—”

This isn’t being hopeful, but you ask anyway. “What did you want me to say?” 

He sighs in return, tearing away his gaze and hiding it with a hand that wipes at his forehead.

Yeah, it isn’t your hopes that were crushed. You adamantly tell yourself it isn’t. He’s being nice as he always is, of course he’d question how agreeable you’re being, it’s not like his resolve is going to change. “I’m just being cooperative so we can—”

“Aren’t you angry with me?”

That was the problem?

“I’m not, Leon.” 

“How can you not be?”

“Well, I…” It’s because you love him, but bringing this up would only make it harder. “I’m not sure. You’ve been that good to me along the way, I guess. I don’t resent you for anything.”

He has that subtle sarcastic look on his face you would take as mocking if you were a total stranger, but you know better. He’s being self-deprecating. You could read it. But you should, he’s thinking. You should resent me. 

You don’t. 

The thing with Leon is he’s too good to be true that his only flaw is being a literal ghost. A well-meaning ghost who’d send presents upon presents and work his ass off to make extra time for what he had to give up on every time your plans falls through with unexpected shit that came up from his mystery job at the White House he never talks about that has him battered and bruised each time he turns up after prolonged leaves.  

Which is an oxymoron considering how attentive and absent he is at the same time. Sometimes you wondered if he’d fix his habit of being a clam about everything concerning himself after you guys were through, but imagining him becoming more open and changing for someone else hurt too much.

“Don’t you want to know why? I mean—god, why are you just taking it?” 

“What do you mean taking it? You’re not doing this to hurt me, look at you, Leon, when have you last slept? It’s hard on you too.” 

“That really doesn’t have to do with anything right now,” he dismisses. “How are you this unaffected? I’ll take it if it’s to get back at me…”

“It’s not.” You stand up, appetite lost. You want to wrap your food up and put it in the fridge to eat later, and this way, you don’t have to look at him while saying the sentences you have rehearsed for so long. “If you want to break up, I can’t force you to stay—or into anything you don’t want to. It’s not fair for either of us. You’ll be stuck with someone who you don’t want, and I’ll have to live with the knowledge I’m with someone who doesn’t want me.” 

You find him staring at you when you’re done, your hand stays wrapped around the handle of the fridge door at how tortured he is. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

He shakes his head, blond strands framing his face gently swishing in the air. He does the angry eyebrow scrunch whenever he disagrees with you strongly on something you’ve said, but decides not to at the last minute, and you find yourself the tiniest bit disappointed at him not refusing he doesn’t want you. “You always— you always do this... Be angry. You have to be angry at me.”

You find refuge in the kitchen sink, washing your hands. “Stop it. I don’t want to fight, please.”

“So you are angry.”

“I’m not!” You slam the water shut a bit too forceful and you breathe for a second before turning to him. “I’m not. Angry. I’m sad, yeah. An understatement. Who wouldn’t be?” 

He just says, “I’m sorry,” at that, and hates it’s the only thing he can manage to give you, it’s blatant in his face. 

You take a seat at the chair directly next to him, you both need the intimacy of good communication at the moment. “But I had a lot of time to mourn, alright? It’s not that I’m taking it or being passive or whatever—”

“Mourn?”

His eyes search yours for a second, and the realization leaves him breathless, the insides of his brows raise up, making him look younger and more innocent. “You were expecting this.”

“Yeah, I mean.” Your lips press together, and you chew the insides before hopelessly shrugging, a small smile doing its best to put itself together. “Look at us. It was never going to work out in the long term. Not really. I consider two years a miracle, to be honest. I don’t know how we got this far.”

“All this time we were together.” Leon’s voice is thick, on the verge of shaking, you weren’t expecting him to take this so badly. His pupils devour all the blue from his eyes, he has never looked at you this hostile before all the hair on your arms rise up. “You were just thinking about breaking up? Have I only ever made you insecure?”

“Not all the time—it’s just—” You swallow. ““Why are you angry at me now? What did I do? You are the one breaking up with me.”

“And here you are okay with this. You’re telling me you didn’t think we’d ever work out when I—” He huffs. “I didn’t even notice a thing. You weren’t happy at all. Ever? You were uneasy all this time?”

“No, Leon, you’re not listening to me. What I expected was that you would leave one day, eventually. Because that’s how you are. That’s how your life is.” He leans back when he gets what you are alluding at, rubbing his face with a hand, refusing to look at you — but out of anger this time around. “I know you wouldn’t be able to stand being in limbo about not letting yourself go and wanting to at the same time. I know you felt bad about everything. I guess it’s just not the right time?”

You don’t say, right person and wrong time, it’s wishful thinking on your part—Leon probably doesn’t think that, someone else seems to take that crown in his heart, you know that all too well. 

The muscles on his arm closest to you flexes, he must be thinking about taking your hand in his, so you remove them off the table and nestle them between your thighs. Any physical contact from him might lead to you crying in the end. 

“I’m sorry I made you go through all that,” he laments. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

Your head tilts sideways. “It wasn’t about me, Leon. Suppose I sat you down and complained you weren’t open with me, you were distant. Especially when you weren’t ready for the conversation. I’ll tell you what would have happened. Two weeks of radio silence.”

“Ah, c’mon…”

“It’s not something you haven’t done before. You said it was work, but… You know. I get it.”

Leon exhales from his nose and lowers his head, broad chest puffing up with rapid breaths, his neck is getting redder by the second. You’ve never taken him for someone with an explosive anger, but it looks like that could change any second. 

“I wish you wouldn’t take this to heart, I’m not saying this to hurt you when I say I knew this was always going to happen.” You’re talking like you’re trying to soothe a tiger, and he especially looks to hate it. “You can’t possibly have expected me to ignore it. And it wasn’t going to come from me either, I’m happy to be with you either way, but—”

“That’s the problem.” He has his head between his hands, like that could possibly hide him away from the conversation. “I treat you like this and you still say that.”

You wish he wouldn’t be this hard on himself.

“I signed up for this.” He tilts his head at that, accusatory, and you get more agitated in return. “I know your circumstances. You can’t help being absent most of the time, I understand. I understand more than you think.” His forearms hit the counter loudly, he looks about to spit fire any second, but you don’t let it happen. “However. It’s no way to continue a relationship, I know that too. My perspective is that it shouldn’t be guilt that comes to your mind whenever you think of me. I wish things could be different. I wish I could be a priority to you—”

Leon’s face sours, and you stop talking when you see it. 

You didn’t mean for the words to hurt him as they did, explanations becoming distraught. “Look, I like you, you know this. Possibly too much. More than I should. You have to understand that’s why I’m being this amicable with you right now. Break-ups don’t always have to end in fights, sometimes things just don’t work out, and that’s what’s happening right now, isn’t it?”

It doesn’t reach Leon. His gaze is faraway, defined jawline locked clenching and unclenching. 

“If it makes you feel better, I was angry for a while.” His hand comes down from rubbing a circle in the middle of his brows, eyes shifting back to yours. “But it is what it is.”

“You’re not even gonna ask?” he says, defeated.

“Would you tell me anything different from what I know?”

He opens his mouth, but the only thing that comes out is a sigh, one of his legs shaking, and his head falls forward, curtains of dark blond hair covering your view of his face. For a moment, all you want is to slip your fingers into the silky strands and comb them back, take his heat away, the pads of your fingers on his smooth cheekbones, you know he’d melt into your touch straight away and his expression would lose weight of the strain he carries you can only imagine the root of most of the time, but you abstain. 

He wouldn’t appreciate it on the brink of a break-up, you were about to become nothing but strangers. 

That’s why it’s abrupt when he leans forward and captures your lips in an unfair, unfair kiss, the force of it makes his teeth clack against yours and you grimace, retreating to break it. His hand slips to the side of your neck to pull you back in, the drag of calluses and heat against the skin of your neck sends goosebumps all over your body, his thumb caresses your cheek in a loving way that hurts but his lips are frantic in their gentler search to open your mouth to his, and suddenly you can’t breathe from how much Leon keeps advancing. 

Turning your face away to break the assertive, overwhelming liplock, you take in lungfuls of air as you look as away from him as you can, panicking at the way he presses his forehead to your temple and the way his nose nudges your burning cheek, he doesn’t budge when you attempt to push him off the second you realize you’re enjoying this. He’s built like a fucking tank. “Leon—”

“Say no if you don’t want it,” he breathes, right into your neck, the tickle is mixed with something dangerous that sears your skin along with the low rumble to his voice directly in your ear, and you have to stop yourself from squirming, a coil of incandescence binds its threads together in the depths of your stomach. “Say it and I’ll stop.” One muscular arm hooks around the back of your upper thigh and one around your waist, he quite literally snatches you off your chair and plops you down on his lap, each of your legs hang from the sides of his hips, and you yelp at how effortlessly Leon seems to arrange you to his liking. 

He’s needlessly, uncharacteristically cruel. You would always want him. Leon knows this. 

“You’re so—” Your breath hitches when his fingers bypass your shirt and sneak up the bare skin of your waist and his other arm readjusts you as he buries his forehead in your shoulder and you gaze at the top of his golden hair kissed by morning sunlight and take in the familiar scent of him and his shampoo. His body against yours leaves a festering sweet longing. “So unfair—you were just breaking up with me—”

He bites down at the meat of your clavicle and you draw in a short breath, the dig of his teeth sting, but he immediately soothes it with a lick and his tongue is hot, too hot. “Unfair?” he groans, you contain the shudder at the emotion he keeps at bay and at the path his blunt fingernails make above the clothing from your hips to the sides of your legs, he’s never been like this. “You already left me in your mind before this and I don’t even know exactly when.” The tip of his nose faintly traces the curve of where your neck meets the shoulder, the tickle is unbearable, aching, you wish he would have left marks instead. “You were always thinking of leaving— our time together didn’t matter to you. What do you think that makes me feel like?”

“That’s not—” You grip both of his biceps and feel the protruding veins and the flex of the muscle underneath the skin, intimidated as always by how both of your hands added together were too small to form a full hold around one. I work out a lot, was his excuse while you were first getting to know each other as acquaintances, and you’d thought how this man belonged with someone of his league. “You’re the one—” 

“You dummy, I’m not leaving you because I want to.” Leon’s arms circle your waist and pulls your body flush against his in a crushing hug, his head finding home under your chin and against your chest. It’s innocent and you feel the helplessness, the desire to hold but not be seen, but you don’t know what to do in return, his words don’t quite register. “Why would I ever when I—“ He cuts himself off, breathing shaky as the rest of the sentence dies at his throat. “Jesus, I can’t believe this.”

You tentatively hold his shoulders, surprised at how taut they are. How winded he is like some wire. “I don’t understand.”

“You are just letting me leave like that. Like some business deal done and gone, you just…” 

You can’t help the sound that escapes as he bites your earlobe. Why does he keep biting? 

“Ow!—“ Leon starts sucking, the wet sounds and his breathing directly in your ear sending shivers down your spine, and you’ve had enough of his thought processes ending up being completed by his lips on your body. 

He’s easily able to overpower you, but obeys when he feels you’re genuinely pushing him away, some strands of your hair get stuck on his face and the view of the detained obscenity of his expression  —the half-closed eyes and the missing blue, the flush of his cheekbones, glistening of his pinked lips— sends a hot wave downstairs. “It’s you. You! You’re the one leaving, Leon, I don’t get it—“

Some clarity through the pinkish haze of want dawns back to him, and he gingerly combs the threads of hair away from your face, some of them behind your ear. “I don’t want to. That’s the thing. I thought it was clear as day.” Leon searches your eyes, looking down at the details of your face, your heart races as his stare gets stuck at your lips the longest, he isn’t even aware he’s doing it and you feel feverishly desired from his insatiable look, from the slow movement of his Adam’s apple. “But—“

“You can’t help it. Right?” Your thoughts are blurring together, and he’s a black hole pulling you in. “I understand—“

Leon kisses you again, and your stolen exhale turns into a pleased hum. “Stop saying that,” he whispers with inches between your lips, eyes closed, so close your breath is his.  

“What do you want me to say?“

“Stay.” He takes your hand and brings it up, planting a singular kiss at the inside of your wrist, and then rests his cheek against your palm. You can only stare at the vulnerability he’s offering you on a silver platter, the tormenting softness is blinding. “Stay.” 

Your heart soars. God, you’ve longed for him to give away that he wants to be with you all this time, the insecurity is a blanket you’ve hidden under, this is it, but he’s so torn and you don’t get his struggle, what he must be hiding for such a visceral reaction. He wants to, but he can’t, and you don’t know why, having accepted he wouldn’t tell you from the start anyway. 

But you ask. You ask anyway. Hope is a flightless bird waiting for her wings to grow each day. “Will you?”

Something shifts, a delicate moment broken, and Leon draws back, his eyelashes flutter as if he’s shaking off some daydream — and then he’s upset, a pinch in his brow. “I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “I can’t—“ You’re grabbed from the arms and scooted away from his lap, putting some distance between the two of you. Leon is physically pained, unable to meet your eyes. “I don’t know why I’m being like this.” He holds your hands between the two of you, and you get whiplash from the passion just mere seconds ago and the tenderness of this touch. “I can’t keep doing this to you. I don’t know why I’m this unreasonable, it’s so childish— Shit. I’m sorry, I’ll just—“

“No.” You cup his face in both hands and he looks like an abused puppy tasting kindness for the first time. “Stay for a bit.” Your heartstrings are tugged by the way Leon’s eyes are lit up. “I want to have you. One last time. Is that alright?”

A beat passes.

“Yeah,” he says, blanking out at first, but then repeats stronger, his fingers sink into the plush of your thighs as he licks his lips. “Yeah.” He turns his head and kisses your palm, somber. “You can have me however you want.”

Leon doesn’t look like he’s particularly looking forward to it. “You sure?”

“I’ll always want you, any day, any time,” he says, and you’re flabbergasted at the burden of his meaning. But you force yourself to look past it, look past the unguarded and unarmed honesty, choosing to interpret it in the language of lust. 

“Not here, though.” You get up from his lap and he doesn’t stop you. “It’s kinda cramped.”

“We can make it work if you’re up for it,” he half-teases, one corner of his lips curling up, his eyes are humorless. 

You snort. Easy for him to say. He’s fit, you aren’t, that’s why being on top can’t last half the time without his assistance. “You can. I certainly can’t.”

“You keep saying I can’t to me, knowing I take it as a personal challenge.” Leon’s touch moves up your forearm and in one swift move, he pulls you in between his legs. He leaves a kiss at the lower valley between your clothed breasts. “Maybe you’re doing it on purpose?”

You’re heating up right away. “I’m not—”

Leon pats his right leg, pulling up the sleeve of his shorts all the way up to the hipbone, exposing the well-endowed, firm thigh. “Sit here.”

“Your leg’s gonna get a cramp,” you say, but it’s hardly a complaint, your crotch has begun to contract at the thought of feeling the flawless skin slipping against your slick folds and how he would mold the tendons to fit just right for your pleasure. Expectation was pulling you tight right from the start where he had you hanging from his every word.  

Leon’s almost offended. “It won’t.” But his encouragement is gentle. “Come on, sweet girl.” Hooking one arm between the two layers of the bands of your underwear and pants, he lets them snap back against your skin after he pulls considerably. “And you’re taking off all that.”

You let it go. Immediately. “Fuck, okay.” 

It’s morning. You’re in the middle of the kitchen. And you’ve forgotten all of that, head lost in the beginnings of a dull throb between your legs. Your dignity would have been trampled on if you were too enthusiastic, so you try to take your time, and he asks, “How do you want to go about this?”

“Huh?”

His hands ride up your knee and inch up, his thumbs in the line of your inner thighs, and your first instinct is to press them together to alleviate the ache, but Leon’s forcing them apart. “You can have my tongue or fingers first. To help the friction.” You swallow when the nail of his thumb scratches the material of your panties and feels the slight dampness, and he’s watching your reactions very closely. “Or you could just sit down.”

You don’t have strength left in your knees anymore, head spinning with the way his darkened, narrowed gaze is simultaneously bearing down on and  looking up at you, and Leon helps you settle your weight on his leg after sliding your underwear down your legs, the warmth of his palms on your naked hips alone is vexing enough and it’s embarrassing that he feels the particularly strong pulse of your sex. 

He angles his leg up and you slide forward with the gathered moisture, arms catching onto his neck in surprise from the sudden jolt of pleasure. “Eager, are we?”  

You aren’t normally bold like this, would let him keep softly teasing rather than give the same energy back, but there’s a certain finality to this time, your brain is liquid smooth from the tantalizing delight of his touch, and you don’t hold back to inform just what he does to you breathily. “Always for you.”

The movement of his leg staggers and you look up to see him caught completely off guard. And the next thing you know, Leon has you in a bruising kiss, or you think it has the strength to bruise, he hasn’t been this rough before, and you certainly haven’t been craved to this extent in your entire life before him. 

This time you accept his tongue willingly into the cavern of your mouth, his fervent licks and gasps rise the question of who’s really the more eager one here, but it doesn’t really occupy space in your mind, limbs stilling overall from how he steals away all bodily functions with just kisses that radiate desperation. 

Leon ushers your hips to languidly move when you fail as a multitasker all the while the swirl of your tongues continue to tangle, and it proves difficult as your slide against him becomes smoother and wetter with him finding just how to pull the hood of your mound while you’re pulling back and drag against it in the correct angle, flexing his thigh accordingly. 

He pecks your jaw. “Faster?”

Skin contact goes straight to the tightening spiral in your stomach like this. “I can’t—”

“Don’t say you can’t.” He does something that has you dropping down from heights by circling his leg, and completely out of your control, small noises emerge from the back of your throat and you can’t kiss him back anymore. “Do you want it faster or not?”

You try to hum in agreement, but he catches you in the middle of it and jerks you forward, the sharp zap electrifies all your nerves and grants him a startled moan, you can barely see the satisfaction in his face from the sudden tears. You were somehow in control of the pace previously, but once he knows you want it faster, it’s him that anchors your hips to the edge of the stars, a man on a mission. 

Leon begins to leave open-mouthed, wet kisses on your neck that has you tilting your head to give him more room, and you’re glad his heavy gaze isn’t drinking in your bliss-stricken expression anymore. “You hear that?” His question is thick. “Listen.” 

The noises your wetness make sliding across the muscles of his thigh in a rapid speed makes some of the blood rush up to your cheeks, and the knot is stretched so agonizingly beyond the point of no return that you’re hurling towards absolution, legs beginning to shake and your whines become sweeter. “Leon,” you pant, the fever to keep going as he is conveyed in one singular word reaches him. “Leon—ah, mmh— I’m— Leon!”

“Yeah, I got you.” Adoring kisses are peppered along your jawline and your fingers clutch to his blond hair, pulling him in, your stiffened, perked up nipples are smushed in the press of his chest against yours, and you arch into him like a cat, lost in the ascending ecstasy. “Just let go.” He bites down and your sore walls clench around nothing, the pulsating increasing in intensity. You’re on a thrill ride, shooting up, up, up— “Come for me, sweet girl, come on, give it to me.”  

With a sharp, choked cry, and the throw of your head back, the coil explodes and unravels, white sparkles in your vision, and Leon holds you down when your body tries to fly off with the force of your orgasm, the sinking of his hands into your sensitive flesh only heightens and sends crashing waves as he helps you ride through it, rocking lazily with you back and forth. 

“Oh god,” you shiver, clinging to him, upper body basically draped across his chest as the pleasure rolls into a stinging ache of pain with the overstimulation, bones jiggly from the floaty feeling to get away yourself. “Too much. Leon. Too much.”

His voice is croaky. “Yeah, we’re not done yet.” 

He stands up with his arms supporting your legs around his waist, and you hold on for dear life. It scares every single time he does this. Leon makes it look so easy to carry you around from room to room without breaking a sweat. 

The full meaning of his words only get to you when you’re thrown on the bed, wind knocked out of you. “Leon, wait, aren’t you going to Spain tomorrow, don’t you have to prepare—”

“I’m preparing,” he says, putting one knee on the bed and oh god, the shine on his thigh, the drench, that was all you—- “Need to get my fill of you to last for the whole trip, yeah?”

It’s more like he’s saying, ‘To last for the rest of my life’, the hunger and melancholy makes for a Frankenstein’s monster of ravenous, unquenchable yearning when you’re right in front of him and your flame is rekindled.  

More than one round with him is uncommon most times because he’s simply busy and moves around a lot, you weren’t used to the practice, build wired to exhaustion taking over when he was finally done with you, either hot, heavy and fast or sweet and intense, each time leaving you with honeyed sore bones and the best sleep following right after. 

Arousal pools in the pit of your belly thinking about what comes next. 

Kneeling at your feet, he taps your tight-locked  knees. “Open up for me.”

It’s morning. He could see every detail of imperfection in this light and uncertainty washes over you for a second before you do as he wishes, the sheets crinkling and rustling beneath your shifting, and he gets on his stomach and puts one of your legs to his shoulder when you thought he would be entering you already. 

Flustered, you get up on your elbows. “Leon, you don’t have to.” 

“Didn’t think you wanted to get it over with right away.” Sliding his hand up, he fans his fingers on your tummy, thumb pulling at the skin dipping into your vulva, and looks up at you from his eyelashes. Little sparks of pleasure light up at each stroke. The weight of his arm is wonderful. “Breaking my heart over here.”

“It’s not that, I…”

He scooches up, and the knowingly feather-light kiss he leaves on the inside of your thigh, close — right there but not there, makes your leg twitch. “Oh, you wanted something else?” The teasing view of Leon inches away from where you wanted him was a sight for sore eyes, but his sudden hot breath on your post-orgasmic sopping heat broke your daze, making your hips attempt to jump up, but his arm had you absolutely pinned on the mattress. “Well?” 

It’s not something you’d planned, but his wanton beauty looking up at you shoves an image inside your brain unexpectedly, reminding you how you’d said you wanted to have him, not the other way around. This is going to be the last time Leon would be like this with you, and there were so many things left unexplored. What would it feel like to have this feline-gracious, strapping man underneath you, to run your lips through his unbelievably sturdy body all over and return the kindness on how good he’s been taking care of you? Leon was always perfect to you. Is perfect. Your wish to present him with how exactly on top of the world he has you feeling for your final time, to return the favor. 

Leon has stopped moving and it’s because of your lack of reaction and the long look of contemplation regarding him. You lift his hair away from his eyes. “Can you lay down on your back?”

“You wanna get on top?” he asks, but doesn’t object to it, moving up on the bed and sitting up, getting the hint on taking off his clothes, enamored, you watch his abdomen flex and limbs stretch like a cat’s as he slips his shirt off and throws it away and shimmy off his briefs. Every single movement of his is a wonder. 

“No, I want to touch you,” you say, stare not knowing where to focus on him and his half-hard dick jumps at your words. “Explore you.”

He meets your eyes, pupils blown, and swallows, nodding. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“I wanted to have you, remember?” 

There’s a semblance of a laugh and Leon rolls on his back, one knee up and hands on his stomach, blond hair fanning around his head on the sheets. He looks like a sculpture. “And how will you have me?”

“Pleasured without thinking of pleasuring,” you explain, he’d be better at the dirty-talk in your position, perhaps say something like ‘Crying for me’, but you’re way too fascinated by him to think about what would have him helplessly turned on. “Vulnerable.”

You would be lucky if you are able to push him to the point of not even one thought behind those pretty blue eyes, but you just want to make him feel good, and with that in mind, reach a hand and trail the tips of your fingers through the prominent web of veins along his forearm, his fingers jump, and you continue through his upper arm, lingering on the sharp lines of lighter-colored small scars until you reach his shoulder, feeling the cluster of the goosebumps that rise in his skin. 

“Seriously?” he says with an annoyed timbre and you see him having gone completely hard, eyebrows shooting up in shock. “You’re going this slow? Am I some package you’re unboxing?” 

“You seem to be enjoying it,” you murmur in interest, and Leon sulks at how you run all five of your fingernails all the way down the lower of his belly button and how it’s hardly even a graze at all. His abs keep contracting. “I barely touched you.”

“You, haah,” he sighs at you straddling and hovering above him. “Don’t need to point that out.”

Leon tries to hold onto your thighs but you maneuver him away, and unsurprisingly, he isn’t pleased by that, groaning. “Oh we’re doing this?”

“I’m touching you. Stay still like a good boy.”

It’s your usual banter, but for some reason, he turns his face away and closes his eyes for a second, wetting his lips as if his mouth is dry. The line of his neck clenches and unclenches and you feel the brush of his dick lightly hit the inside of your leg. You’re fascinated again. He likes this more than you expected. “God, you really want to kill me.”

Leon could stop it if he wanted to. Switch it around. It’s not like he hasn’t done it before. All the times you’ve attempted to ride him and your knees and calves failed you, he ended up sitting up and hugging you close, fucking up into you and kneading your insides from below and littering your shoulders with angry red marks, taking control of the pace, especially riled up from how endearing and sexy you were trying your best to pleasure him, in his words. He can do it again, but doesn’t. Just lies there, all for you, stuck between a rock and a hard place — which, in this case, is his discomfort and enjoyment. The lack of stimulation gets him going. 

You lean down and nip at the corner of his mouth, and he responds immediately, turning back to you, chasing the kiss. His hands come up to your waist but you take them off, pinning them to his sides, and Leon complains through sharply breathing into your mouth. “I’ll only,” Kiss. “Hold you.” Kiss. “Please, just let me—” You lightly bite his tongue. 

As if he couldn’t do it if he truly wanted to. He is letting you do this to him. Pleading. In that tone of voice, too. You’re in over your head, what is happening? 

“No,” you say, kissing his jaw and caressing the hinge of his opposite jaw with your thumb, sounding stern but feeling silly inside, unsure if he’s amused by you deep down. But Leon huffs again like a spoiled brat not getting what he wants. 

You’re shell-shocked, but continue your pursuit to find out what else he likes, settling on his ear, making a line through the outer rim of soft tissue with your tongue and sucking kisses until he’s shifting around, you can hear how he’s trying to level out his breathing, then you bite, and he hisses as you repeat it over and over again. 

You’ve heard that some men enjoy getting their nipples played with, and you caress and massage, knead and fondle all over his torso with both hands as the switching of your gentle and silky mouth and the needling pleasure of teeth assault his ear, and you listen to his heavy breathing the occasional hitch of it until you circle around one nub, and flick it, rubbing down and pressing the pebbled nipple inwards, just like how he does it to you, and twist the other one. His face hides itself in your neck, and you let him have that, at least. 

His exhale turns into sound and he shuts it down pretty quickly, opting to speak up instead. “Can you—” he begins, and then tuts, sounding nonchalant, but you hear it. You hear the thickness of contained arousal. “Can you move on already?”

“You want the other ear?”

His head jerks in your position at you saying that straight into his ear and breathing into it, you know the thin sheen of saliva coating it makes the sensation sharp and cool and warming at the same time. “No—” he says, but you ignore him, cutting the rejection off by taking his other earlobe between your teeth. “Jesus Christ, this isn’t necessary—”

“If it isn’t, why is this wet?” You ask, watching him closely, tapping the pearl of clear liquid gathered at the tip of his ramrod straight hardness. It’s scalding hot, throbbing at the contact. Leon hisses between his teeth, trying to contain it, and sighs as your index finger circles the tip to spread it around, another bead of precum swelling in the wake of your touch. His eyebrows are scrunched, lips thinning and returning to their usual plushness with him pushing them together, a dust of pink coloring his complexion, a weak glare is on you. “Just enjoy it.”

“I could if you actually did something already.”   

You wrap a tight hand around Leon’s needy cock, heavy and thick, and he shouts, the cry turning into a high-pitched whine you would never dream of coming from him and he clamps a hand on his mouth right in the middle of it, hips bucking into you, head thrown back, blown eyes horrified at what he just did. His breaths are loud and shaky, face turning red in seconds, and you watch, utterly captivated. You’ve seen adorable sides of him before when he lets himself be light and his brow isn’t hanging close to his eyes in that grumpy mood, but what you have right here…   

You’re drunk on this side of his, nibbling at his exposed throat. “You’ll take what I give you.”

“God,” he whispers behind his palm, with a subtle tremble when you squeeze once and let go. His hips stutter up before falling back. Leon’s embarrassed. “Fuck.”

He doesn’t retort back, all of the sass packed and left. You can’t believe this is working. That Leon’s obeying you like this. He’s leaked all over your hand. Oh my god. 

And you’ve really barely even done anything to him. 

You can’t help but wonder if this is you doing this to Leon or he’s just into being bossed around in general. 

How further can you push?

“Look, you’ve wet my hand,” you say, bringing your glistening palm up and separating your fingers after circling the gathered precum around, a thin thread forming between the digits. Like a hawk, he watches you lap it all up and you don’t take your eyes off of his, hearing him grip the sheets. “Still gonna act like this isn’t doing anything for you?”

Leon’s voice is gravelly as he rasps, “Kiss me.” It’s something between a request and a demand that if you don’t do it, he will. 

You oblige, pushing down on his chest to get him to lie down again when it’s apparently too slow and soft for him, and he avidly presses forward to make it rougher, intertwining his tongue with yours harsher to the point of your mixed drool sliding down his chin for more. 

He’s yanking and pulling on his clasp on the dreadfully wrinkled covers in self-restraint as he bites and licks and pulls at your lips, butterflies light up the pit of your stomach and thrash against the liquefied rapture that throbs in your pussy and seeps out, the need for attention growing impatient by the minute.  

You go down and focus on kissing his neck, alternating between openmouthed licks and bites, careful not to leave marks, insides doing a summersault at the small noise of disappointment he makes that transitions into husky gasps. Leon still is concerned with suppressing any kind of unbecoming sounds he’s appalled to come out of him, and you’re bothered by that. Pressing your palm on the head of his cock and twisting sure does the trick to vocalize him a bit, restoring your confidence. 

“Ah… Can’t you just directly touch it,” he sighs gruffly. “This isn’t enough—”

“You aren’t asking nicely enough.” 

His head snaps down, brows raised in disbelief, self-consciousness clouding the teased promise of bliss that edges him on, and you stare back at him pointedly — however, on the inside, you’re worried if he’d ever beg at all. 

You twist your palm with added pressure enough to alleviate the pain, but not enough to carry him to the peak he wants to get to, and his shoulders jump up, “Ah!” Biting down on his momentarily trembling lower lip and shaking his head with closed eyes as if he doesn’t want to see you watch him be like this, he mutters, “I’m gonna get you for this…” 

You grip the base of his cock so hard his hands fly up to your wrists and with a shuddering whimper, stop at the last second before he touches you and he drapes his forearms on his reddened face instead, his back rises from the bed involuntarily, Leon’s flat-on squirming and hating it. 

“That’s not nice,” you tease, pressing your legs together in momentary relief and waves of pleasure that slip on your skin like silk, and narrowly stopping the moan. You breathily add, “What do we say?” 

“Please,” so fast and quiet, humiliated. You understand, but don’t let him off.  

“I didn’t catch that.”

“Fuck, please, come on, please.” His hands ball into fists and his arm veins pop out and his right knee curls upwards. “You can’t keep doing this to me—AHH—mhhmh—!”

His sentence gets cut off into incomprehensible babbling once you start pumping your fist up and down his neglected erection, not even needing lotion for it, he’s drenched enough to make the slide beyond slippery. You add your other hand into the mix and begin teasing the tip, and his chest, having developed a thin layer of sweat and gleaming in the sunlight, is heaving, and he can’t swallow the gasps and noises anymore, fingernails digging into his palms. You can only see his puffed, rufescent lips from the way he’s covering his face.  

“Wasn’t what I had in mind, but I’ll take it,” you say, and it’s genuine. This much alone was too much, way beyond what you thought could happen. Leon is always in control, he has it together so brilliantly that this is actually him falling apart, it’s an enthralling, spellbinding natural disaster so beautiful you can’t look away, want to touch yourself to the sight. 

“I’ll show you what I have in mind,” Leon all but snarls, and he has you on your back and pulls you towards him by your legs harshly even before shivers can go down your spine. “Let’s see if you can take that.” 

You pushed him past his limit it seems, and he darkly stares you down, eyebrows scrunched and beads of sweat rolling down his temples. sweat-dampened hair curtains his face from both sides. His hand slips behind both of your knees and scratches at the smooth skin of the crevice, shooting lightning directly into your core, and he hikes them up to hook over his shoulder and hugs one bulging arm around to hold them together, lining himself up with your slit with a trembling hand, dragging the cherry red, furious tip up and down, slipping it in for a bit, catching your insides in a tantalizing drag, and then taking it out next, making your toes curl in the air and drawing squeals out of you. 

Leon would normally send you to the underground and back from how horribly he’d tease you for being this drenched for him, but he’s strained and silent now, snapping his hips against yours and burying himself to the hilt in the spasming cavern of your pussy in one go, with no resistance from how ready for him you were, ripping a fractured cry from you as your vision blacks and stars dance behind your eyes. He groans gutturally, cock pulsing inside, and you feel the sound in your body. You’re overly sensitive from head to toe, and even the sheets sliding against your burning skin makes your clit throb painfully, deliciously. 

He doesn’t start slow or build to something, it’s quick and rough right off the bat as he’s ramming into you with no mercy, and he’s basically catapulting you into glorious completion, but you need more stimulation, more, something more—

He slaps your hand away when you try to reach down to your clit to slip two fingers between your tightly shut legs and falls on his forearms, “No way I’m letting you do that.” Leon arranges your legs to wrap around his waist, grinding against you. 

His attention then shifts to something else and he pulls on the sleeve of your shirt that’s still on, a scheming shine comes to the blue of his eyes that worry you, and then he’s leaning in and forcing it up. It’s hard for you to move your back and slip it off with the way he’s pinning you down, and it dawns on you late after you make the mistake of raising your arms that it’s what he wants after all. After getting your head out, Leon turns it inside out around the entire length of your arms that act as a makeshift restraint and leaves it like that, you’re incapacitated with your hands over your head like this. 

You whine, this is so about not letting him touch you, and he thrusts up sharply to shut you up, sucking blossoming reds into the crook of your neck, hands pulling and pinching at your nipples. It’s building up. It’s building up, but— “You’re going to come like this.”

The frantic slap of skin against skin is echoing in the room and you struggle against the bunched up shirt around your arms. “Can’t—”

“You’re doing it on purpose at this point.” He laces his fingers into your hair on top of your head, thumb on your forehead in little caresses, contrasting how he fucks you shallow and fast, his voice a couple octaves higher than it usually is as he angles your hips upwards to hit deeper, and your moans are a metronome in beat to his ruthless pace. 

“Yeah, that’s right, take it!” Eyes glazed over, mouth agape, the muscles in his thighs jumping, body pulled taut, wrecked and somehow begging, Leon doesn’t leave a single spot unkissed on your face and throat and he’s hurling towards an uncontrolled craze, he’s so close himself. “More? You want more? Too bad, this is it—mmm—for what you just did to me, and you’re gonna take it!” 

You’re clamping down on him and he hisses in your ear as you repeat it like a mantra, Leon is wrenching a merciless orgasm from you and you have no control over it, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, can’tcan’tcan’tcan’t—!”   

Leon’s delectable weight pins you down as you shoot up with the detonation of the pleasure into a thousand pieces, rippling through your body in building waves, your pussy clenching down on him catches him off guard and he unceremoniously spills into you with a choked, staccato shout shuddering, the succulent warmth coating your insides and adding to the ecstasy, and it just keeps coming, his load is too heavy and too much. Your stiffened legs lock the shivering man in place and tremble around his waist as he languidly rides his bliss out, forehead sticky against your clavicle, the sheer strength with which he holds you against him is euphoric rather than suffocating. 

“God, what the fuck was that,” he mumbles at some point, collapsing on top of you and turning you around with him so he won’t crush you, pulling you to his sweaty chest and putting his chin on top of your head. His scent has you in a fuzzy daze. “What did you do to me?”

You don’t respond, consciousness slipping from your fingers and pulling you deep into the sweet comfort of the dark. 

You feel his hand on your cheek, lightly nudging. “Hey, you okay?” 

“Mhm,” you manage to make out. “Wanna sleep…”

“Okay, sweet girl, I got you,” he says, soft and endeared, from far, far away. 

And with that, you’re out like a light. 

When you wake up, you find yourself thoroughly cleaned up, in comfortable, cotton pajamas, with no Leon in sight and a small note left on your nightstand with the keys to your apartment on top of it. 

It reads: Had to go. I’m sorry about not staying until you woke up. Talk to you when I get back.

You plop back on your fluffy pillows and sigh, chest hurting. It was always going to end this way. In hindsight, you’ve seen it coming. 

Your heart doesn’t agree, tears freely falling from your eyes. It’s really over. Leon really left like that. Just as he came into your life. 

You don’t have the right to complain. You’d agreed to it in the first place. 

[zekepng]

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐊 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘

One evening, a familiar neighbour approaches you and requests a favour, even though it's late. You willingly assist him and he doesn't let you leave without generously rewarding you for your helpfulness. 

Milkman (Francis Mosses) one shot, explicit content - fanart: Yunonoai on twitter

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As you settle into your seat, you feel your eyelids growing heavy from the gentle sway. It's a quiet Sunday, with only a few souls venturing through. It seems like the majority of the neighbours have chosen to stay home and take a break today.

You found some satisfaction in your job, despite your preference for being at home on a Sunday. 

At least you're earning a paycheck for your efforts to do nothing.

Just like magic, the elevator doors glide open, as if anticipating your thoughts. You awaken, your gaze drawn to the window shielding your office. Anastacha glances in your direction, offering a brief wave and a smile before gracefully heading towards the exit.

You reciprocate the gesture, ensuring there are no witnesses nearby.

Before slipping on your headphones, you steal a quick glance at the clock on the wall, hoping to see the hand inching closer to ten, but it's barely making its way to eight.

Once again, as if following a precise rhythm, your tired eyes gently close.

Until the sound of forceful pounding against the glass abruptly jolts them awake. You find yourself on the edge of your seat, suddenly snapping upright in a state of sheer panic.

You abruptly lose track of your surroundings, momentarily transported from your peaceful bed to an unfamiliar place.

You find yourself sinking into the uncomfortable chair, feeling the strain in your back as you gaze out through the transparent barrier that separates you from the outside world. You can't help but feel a rush of surprise as you lay your eyes on the towering figure before you, his gentle smile adding a touch of warmth to the scene.

"Long shift?" He asks, his head slightly tilted. His gentle, deep brown eyes fixate on you, capturing a flicker of delight in your astonished expression.

"Francis," you whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. You remove the headphones from your ears and sit up straight in your chair.

As per his usual attire, he wears a pristine white shirt and sleek black trousers, complemented by a stylish black bow tie. With his trademark white hat perched atop his tousled brown silk hair, it's clear that he's having a particularly dishevelled day.

“Did I startle you?” He asks, his voice carrying a sense of innocence as he gently removes his hat from his head.

You tear your eyes away from his, only to steal a quick glance at the clock, hoping to catch any sign of time passing. You find it shocking that what seemed like an eternity actually lasted a mere half an hour. "Well, I never expected anyone to approach me," you murmur softly.

"My apologies, (y/n)," he says with a playful laugh, “but I need you to get into my apartment.” 

As you regain consciousness, a wave of disorientation washes over you. You gaze at him with a bewildered expression, desperately trying to comprehend his words. Suddenly, he utters, "My keys, (y/n). You have my keys, just like you do every day.” 

Your cheeks flush as a wave of embarrassment washes over you, all while he stares at you with a gentle smile, almost bordering on a smirk. “Sorry, it’s been a long night.” You casually reach over and take his house keys from the hook.

“I guess I’m not the only forgetful one here,” he chuckles, clutching the keys to his truck in his hand.

During your week of working here, you formed a pact with Francis. Because of his tendency to forget, he would often misplace one of his keys and ask for a spare. In order to avoid this recurring issue, you both decided to make an arrangement where his keys would be kept downstairs at your desk.

As he inches towards the glass, a sense of confusion washes over you until he finally says, “I have another favour I need you to do for me.” 

“Which is?” You ask, carefully examining his features. You trace the contours of his nose, gradually becoming absorbed in your own thoughts—lewd thoughts.

You find yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him as he talks.

The gaze in his almond-shaped eyes carries a captivating yet mysterious allure.

Every time he passes by, his demeanour seems gloomy, but a flicker of joy illuminates his eyes when he catches a glimpse of you. However, that happiness quickly dissipates as his smile vanishes.

You can't help but imagine the intense gaze and the heated encounter as he bends you over your desk and fucks you senseless. 

Your mind is swirling with questions like, What noise does he make? Is he loud? Would he fuck you good? Is it big?

It has to be big.

There is a mysterious presence about him that eludes comprehension, yet it holds you captivated.

“So, can I?” He asks, jolting you back to reality as you realise you've completely zoned out and missed his entire conversation.

You find yourself shaking your head in disbelief, struggling to process his words. However, your mind becomes overwhelmed with a flurry of unanswered questions. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that for me?”

“I asked if I could place a few of my milk trays in your office as I unload them from my truck? It’s far colder there than it is out here,” he asks, causing your eyes to cautiously shift between his face and the office floor, contemplating if they would even fit.

“It’s just so that I don’t have to keep going to my truck all the way to the third floor.” He includes this detail in an effort to convince.

You're still apprehensive because it's against the rules to allow residents into the office, even for a brief period of time. “I don’t think I can let you in here, Francis.” You admit, a hint of guilt creeps into your expression.

"Come on," he pleads, his head tilting and his hands clasping together in a prayer-like gesture. “Please, it will only be for a few minutes, (y/n).” 

His voice trembles and his eyes become gentle, almost melting you with their intensity.

"It's late, and this secret can stay between us," he pleads, his voice filled with desperation. “I promise I’ll reward you for being good to me, (y/n).” It’s almost as if the use of him saying your name was a kryptonite to you. 

Every atom of your being trembles as your name escapes out of his mouths, sending shivers down your spine.

“Fine,” you reluctantly concede, succumbing to his pleading stare. “Just be quick.”

In a matter of moments, he effortlessly reveals a sly grin, his expression as stoic as ever, as he casually lowers his hands by his side. "You’re the best,” he exclaims while placing his hat back on his head and stepping back outside. 

You cautiously lean back in your chair, then rise to your feet and unlock the office door. Before proceeding, you cautiously survey your surroundings, ensuring that no prying eyes are present. 

The last thing you desire is to attract unwanted attention and risk being reported for violating any regulations.

As you gently nudge the door, you lean against it, ensuring it stays ajar, eagerly anticipating Francis swift return from his truck. As time passes, you observe him effortlessly using his back to swing open the door of the building. He then pivots and starts making his way towards you.

You watch as he carefully balances two crates, one on top of the other, brimming with delicate glass milk bottles. You watch as he effortlessly carries the heavy crates into the office, his white shirt rolled up to reveal his strong forearms adorned with prominent veins.

You can't help but have your attention fixated on him, like an annoying, persistent fly.

"I only have two more to carry," he says, walking past you once more before vanishing outside.

You eagerly anticipate his return, and when he finally enters the building, he is drenched from the rain. You can't help but notice how his shirt is nearly transparent, allowing a glimpse of his skin underneath. 

As raindrops trickle down his face, they leave a trail of glistening droplets in their wake.

As he enters the office with the two crates, you quietly trail behind him, allowing the door to gently shut behind you. You watch as he carefully places the crates on top of each other, his gaze sweeping across the office before he straightens up.

You watch as Francis takes off his hat, his face filled with a sense of relief. I can help you carry these up to your apartment, however, in order to do so, I'll need the key to the truck," you mention, extending your hand towards him.

You find yourself captivated by his stare as he gently places the keys in your open hand. As you casually swap the truck key for the flat key, his gaze remains fixated on you.

As you turn around to face him, you find yourself taken aback as you come face to face with him, your eyes widening in surprise at his close proximity.

His towering presence looms above you, his hand poised near the switch that will lower the shutter. You find yourself struggling to control your breathing, as if your breath has been captured by an unseen force.

“Did you think I forgot about your reward?” His voice says, sending shivers down your spine while also captivating your senses.

Without uttering a single sound, he proceeds to push the switch, causing the shutters to gradually descend, leaving only you and him in the office.

"I didn't think you were serious," you mutter, struggling to articulate your thoughts.

As he takes the keys from your grasp, his touch is tender as he delicately cradles your chin with his other hand. You find yourself instinctively retreating as he moves closer, your back pressing against the edge of your desk. “Good girls deserve to be rewarded, (y/n).”

“And you’re a good girl for helping me, aren’t you, (y/n)?” He asks, gently caressing your lips with his thumb.

You fix your eyes on him, a gaze brimming with intense desire. You find yourself completely immobilised and unable to utter a single word, ensnared in a captivating spell cast by his presence.

You want him to tear your clothes off and fuck you savagely as if you were animals.

In the blink of an eye, his tender caress transforms into something forceful. You watch as his hand swiftly clamps around your jaw, his eyes filled with intensity. "Say it," he demands, his voice filled with authority. 

In any other circumstance, fear might consume you, but instead, a surge of pleasure courses through your body, intensifying the throbbing sensation between your legs.

You swallow nervously before quietly admitting, "I am."

"Good," he murmurs, loosening his hold on your jaw as he draws you closer to him. Out of nowhere, he surprises you by gently placing his lips against yours, leaving you completely stunned.

You feel the warmth of his body as your hands instinctively glide up his neck, drawn to his touch. You can't help but be drawn to his kisses, even though they're sloppy. 

They are filled with a raw and intense passion that ignites something deep within you. You feel a gentle bite on your bottom lip, and a soft moan emerges from your throat as he takes the chance to slide his tongue through.

You can sense the heat coursing through your veins, which is matched only by the rapid thumping of your heart.

As he shifts back, a brief strand of saliva lingers between you both, only to be swiftly followed by another passionate kiss. You find yourself captivated by the gentle gaze in his eyes as he slowly moves his lips from yours to the tender skin of your neck.

You feel a soft nibble on your neck, followed by a gentle whisper in your ear, “Sit on the desk.”

You find yourself completely mesmerised by his every word, unable to resist his intriguing presence. You obediently follow the directions, concealing any signs of bewilderment. You settle yourself on the desk, feeling a slight breeze as your skirt lifts slightly.

You reach out to mend it, but he abruptly halts your movement. His hands gently lift yours away from your thighs, finding their place on either side of you.

You watch as he gracefully lowers himself to the ground, effortlessly sinking to his knees right in front of you.

You find yourself at a loss for words as you experience the sensation of his hands enveloping your thighs, gently guiding you closer to the edge of the desk.

You feel the gentle touch of his lips against the sensitive skin of your thighs, eliciting a soft gasp as you tilt your head back in response.

You feel a gentle tug on your thong, as it gracefully slides down your leg and is set aside.

You adjust your skirt higher, feeling a sudden warmth on your cheeks as you become aware of your vulnerability.

You're captivated by the intensity of his eyes, lost in the moment as he delicately positions your legs over his shoulder, drawing you nearer without disrupting the desk.

You observe him with anticipation and a heightened sense of desire as he approaches your cunt. You find yourself biting your lip, a soft whimper escaping your lips as his warm tongue playfully dances around your clit, sending waves of teasing pleasure through your body.

The tip of his tongue delicately explores and teases your pussy.

Unexpectedly, he inserts two fingers into your wet hole, eliciting a chorus of pleasure-filled sounds from your lips.

You slowly glide your hand through his soft, lustrous brown hair, then firmly grasp it as he skillfully moves his fingers in and out of you, simultaneously using his tongue to pleasure your most sensitive spot.

You are consumed by an overwhelming surge of tension, which sends waves of pleasure cascading through your entire being. "Oh fuck," you gasp, your voice filled with desire, as you tightly grip his hair.

You can feel the intensity building as his tongue quickens its pace, sending waves of tension through your body. Just as the knot of anticipation reaches its peak, he eases off, gradually slowing down.

You feel a rush of pleasure as his fingers move in and out of you, perfectly synchronised with the skillful movements of his tongue. It's as if he knows exactly how to bring you to the brink of ecstasy.

As if to intensify the sensation, he adds a third finger into your dripping pussy, causing you to cry out, "Francis, please!" His tongue quickens its pace once more, heightening the pleasure even more.

You sense your proximity drawing near. You can feel the heat building up inside you, your breath quickening and your toes curling in pleasure as he expertly stimulates you with his slender fingers. "I'm getting close," You struggle to utter the three simple words, your voice trembling with emotion.

Out of nowhere, he abruptly withdraws his mouth from you, yet his fingers remain inside, delving deeper and deeper.

You're hooked by the intense stare he directs towards you, his eyes filled with a mysterious allure. A blend of your fluids and his spit moistens his mouth as he slowly smirks at you.

Author's note: part 2 is pending... ಇ

[nothingbutsweetwords]

ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"...ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ɪ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ."

Word count: 6,300.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

Warnings: Angst, mention of injury, violence.

WHISPERING — 4. Him

The whisper of the sea cradled his thoughts as he watched the princess lean against the balcony railing. The hours slipped by like water under the keel, and he couldn't tear his gaze away, steadfastly fixed upon her, her form enveloped his senses. He had eagerly awaited the chance to speak with her ever since he had found out about the letter from Harrenhal. Harwin’s departure from King's Landing had deeply unsettled her; he couldn't imagine the weight of sorrow she bore now with his death. Their encounter had been thwarted by the cruel circumstances, three days at sea and she hadn't emerged from her cabin once. Now, on solid ground, she was constantly surrounded, with no moment of solitude for him to approach her.

He looked at her with an almost palpable longing, wishing to be the one to accompany her in her difficult moments, yearning for the opportunity to take Jacaerys's place by her side.

Aegon's voice snapped him out of his reverie, cutting like a knife, reminding him of his surroundings. He had been next to his elder brother, without paying attention, lost in his own thoughts.

"Why do you keep looking at them? Have you found out?" Aegon asked, following the direction of his gaze. He felt a blush creep up his cheeks as he realized he had been utterly transparent.

"Found out what?" he asked, confused, as he looked at his elder brother, who held a nearly empty cup indifferently.

"About the marriage proposals suggested by Rhaenyra" Aegon replied, nodding towards where his princess was with her twin. "She proposed that her daughter be betrothed to me, and asked for Helaena's hand for Jace." His eyes widened at the news, his throat suddenly felt dry. How could they entertain such a misguided notion? While he understood that it would be more politically correct, he couldn’t help but feel that he, as the princess’s closest confidant, would make a far better match than his brother, who showed no signs of reforming his libertine ways, not even for a wife.

"Mother refused, of course" Aegon continued, as if it were a trivial matter, reciting their mother’s words. "She won't marry her children to Rhaenyra's plain-featured children, she said." Though the comment surprised him, his frown eased slightly at Aegon's nonchalant tone. “Though I would have preferred otherwise" Aegon added, with a shrug. "At least she speaks. I’m sure I would have found the bedding ceremony more… enjoyable." His words grated on him deeply, he hated hearing him talk about her in that manner. "And we have nothing in common" Aegon went on. He felt a flash of indignation at his brother's cavalier attitude and dismissive tone, but also a sense of relief at the thought that his princess would not marry him.

"She's our sister" he defended, but Aegon only rolled his eyes.

"You marry her then" Aegon retorted, provoking his exasperation.

"It is your duty to strengthen the family" he argued, trying to maintain composure.

"She's an idiot" his brother shot back, gesturing with his empty cup towards Helaena.

"She is your future wife" he responded seriously, annoyed by the insults towards his sister, who possessed far more wisdom than Aegon could ever hope to attain.

"Actually, we do have one thing in common" Aegon interjected with a mischievous smile as a servant approached with a tray full of brimming cups. He arched an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. Aegon swapped his empty cup for a full one and then looked at him with a playful gleam in his eyes. "We both fancy creatures with very long legs" he quipped before downing his cup and sauntering off after the servant in search of another round. 

"Aegon" he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief at his brother's antics.

Sighing softly, he stepped out of the gazebo and made his way towards the flickering bonfire. Jacaerys was on the other side of it, facing him. He tried to offer a reassuring smile, which faltered into a grimace at his nephew's impassive response, he only looked at him stoically, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

He turned his gaze back to her, who was still in the same spot but now stood alone, and saw his chance. He approached her. Her gaze was lost on the vast expanse of the horizon, drawing closer, he felt a myriad of words welling within him, yet none found their way past his lips. He just stood quietly by her side, his comforting hand resting lightly on her back, expressing his support for her. She didn't look back at him, but he felt her body relax slightly, acknowledged him.

Their interaction didn't last long, as Jacaerys followed in his footsteps and intruded, ruining their moment. He hadn't heard him coming, too lost in her presence and the sound of the sea. He bumped him with his body, wanting to take his place, which caught him off guard and made him stumble, falling to the ground. Jacaerys said something he didn't hear, too embarrassed in front of her. His cheeks felt hot and a lump formed in his throat. He didn't ask for reciprocation of his kind gestures or his desires for friendship, just a truce in a room full of people. He appreciated her support, she defended him and offered her hand to help him up. Once on his feet, he dusted off his hands with the sides of his cloak and decided to leave, wishing to avoid more conflict, as it wasn't the place, but not before bidding her a silent farewell.

He crossed the balcony, returning to the other side of the gathering, where he found his mother’s gentle smile, having witnessed his confrontation with Jace. He noticed his father was no longer in his seat, and then how Rhaenyra ushered her three children to their chambers. 

And then, in the stillness of the night, he felt it. Flutters that, he could swear, chilled the air. He couldn't make out where it was heading, as it moved above the clouds, but the place went dark for a few seconds.

Time had become an enigma in the darkness of the night. He had no precise notion, but the sun had already yielded its place and lent its glow to the moon. Silence had seized the castle, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within him. He found himself in the room he shared with his brother, whose absence he welcomed.

His breathing was labored, reflecting the anxiety consuming him. He emerged from the room and stealthily slid through the deserted hallway, with no guards to stand watch. He reached her door, where he gently tapped with his knuckles, awaiting a response that didn't take long to come. The door cracked open, revealing her silhouette in the dim light. She wore a nightgown, her hair disheveled, as if she had been defeated in a battle against insomnia. With just a glance, she invited him inside, and he accepted. 

Without knowing how to articulate his tumultus thoughts, he walked overwhelmed through the unfamiliar room as he tried to find the right words. She approached and placed her hand on his shoulder in a gesture of support, sensing his distress.

"What troubles your mind, Aemond?" she asked, her sweet voice tinged with concern. "You are upset about my brother's behavior, are you not? He's been having difficult days, I truly apologize for..."

He didn't bother to correct her, as Jace's attitudes were nothing new. He simply shook his head, cutting off any apology she might offer. "Vhagar is here" he blurted out as he searched her eyes for understanding. 

Confusion flickered across her face. "I’m afraid I fail to see your point, Aemond" she responded, her brow furrowed in a maze of confusion.

"Riderless" desperation seeped into his voice. "This is your chance" he insisted, grasping her hands with unwavering determination. Aware of having raised his tone and despite the rising tide of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him, he softened his voice and softly added, "you love that dragon."

She blinked, perplexity written on her face. "I love her history and what she means to our family, Aemond, but that does not necessarily mean that..." her words trailed off into the air, unfinished, as her gaze wandered towards the window. Through the glass, Vhagar loomed in the distance, a silent sentinel on the sandy shore. The sight struck him like a thunderbolt, igniting a surge of desperation within him.

"Do not let this opportunity slip away through your fingers" he implored, his voice tinged with urgency.

"Vhagar is an old dragon, she deserves to rest" she countered, looking at him. "And she’s just lost her rider of many years, she needs time to mourn too, Aemond" she continued to present reasons in an attempt at internal persuasion. All insufficient, falling short in his eyes. "I couldn't do it, even if I wanted to. I wouldn't know how" she confessed, catching her lower lip between her teeth in a pensive expression. He saw her open her mouth parting and closing in hesitation, as if wanting to say something, but not daring to. He felt the idea materializing before her, but she ended up shaking her head, turning her back to both the window and him, returning to her bed. He remained rooted to his spot, his eyes still fixed on the beach. "Besides, I have no right to claim her. Rhaena deserves her more than I do" she added, her words causing a sharp pang in his chest. He abruptly looked away from the window upon hearing her, his face troubled. 

"Why do you say that?" he demanded, his voice sharp with irritation.

"Vhagar was her mother's dragon" she responded, as if stating an incontrovertible truth.

"And?" he pressed, frustration creeping in. She hesitated, unable to find an additional adequate response, uncertainty clouding her eyes. He moved closer, perching on the edge of the bed, seeking to persuade her. He watched impatiently as she wrestled internally against the idea. "A dragon is not a throne to be inherited by blood. You are a Targaryen, and deserve to be a rider just as much as she does" he argued.

"It's Laena's funeral, it's not..." Her voice cracked. "I can't" she concluded, her resolve firm.

"Are you afraid? Is that it? Because I could..." he started, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration.

"No, Aemond, I just do not want to" she interrupted, her voice soft but firm, each word a desperate plea for understanding.

"But I thought..."

"Stop, Aemond, please" she whispered, cutting him off as she turned her face away from him, her shoulders trembling. 

"It was never my intention to upset you, my princess" he said softly, his voice a gentle attempt to bridge the silent rift that lay between them.

He could see the reasons holding her back, even understand them, but what he questioned was her willingness to let this opportunity pass by to cling to respect, putting another's rights above hers in a mere gesture of deference. Frustrated and disappointed, he jumped up, resolved to take matters into his own hands as he strode towards the door.

"But I won't stand idly by" he declared before leaving the room, without waiting for a reply, leaving behind their disagreement and her worried face.

He moved cautiously through the castle corridors, calm and with measured steps, trying not to raise any suspicion or draw any unwanted attention. He found the exit leading to the balcony where they had been hours before. There were still a few people there, he supposed that was the reason for the absence of guards inside the castle.

He approached the stairs, where just moments earlier Otto had descended. When he reached them, his grandsire climbed the steps, Aegon at his side. "Go to bed" he heard him say, his face stern and his grip forcefully placed on his drunken brother's arm, who could barely maintain his balance and keep up with Otto's pace. They passed by him without sparing him a second glance.

Once they disappeared through the door and he checked that each of the present ones were focused on their own affairs, he began to descend the stairs cautiously. Upon reaching the bottom, a surge of urgency propelled him forward, his steps quickening into a brisk pace as he disappeared into the shadows, mindful not to look back for fear of being discovered.

Separated by a great expanse, the distance between them stretched far beyond what he had initially gauged from the vantage point of the princess's chambers. His run slowed down as his boots sank slightly into the damp sand and his cape waved in the salty sea wind. He tried to focus on the view and the sound of the night. Maybe, if he started to contemplate what he would soon do, he would back out. 

Now the night was free of clouds, the heavens unfurled a tapestry of stars, as if opening their path to him. Vhagar's dark scales reflected the moon's glow, and her breaths showed her peaceful sleep. She was even more imposing than he had thought he had seen, her immense body, even lying down, rose like a green mountain against the horizon, a testament to the heroic histories that had preceded her. For days he had heard tirelessly about her, endless tales about Vhagar’s might, a living legend, feared and respected alike. Never had he imagined that he would stand before her, poised to claim his place in history as her rider. He stopped at a safe distance from the dragon, his gaze fixed on the sleeping colossus.

"Shit, shit, shit" he whispered as he contemplated her. His ragged breath and his wildly beating heart denoted the storm of thoughts invading him. The opportunity, dazzling and elusive as a flash, presented itself before him. It wouldn't vanish, he was determined not to let it escape. "Shit" he said again, before sliding down in the sand.

He approached carefully and the dragon didn't flinch. He knew that to awaken such an ancient beast required more than simple words. A tangle of ropes hung from her back to reach her saddle, so he gently took them with one hand. The dragon stirred in front of him. His heart beat even faster.

Vhagar quickly opened her eyes, deep golden orbs flashing under the night. He backed off a bit when she saw him, and let her observe him without moving. When she seemed to decide that he wouldn't be a threat, she resumed her resting position. He tried to grab the ropes again, but before he could, the dragon turned her head towards him, evaluating the young man who dared to disturb her rest. She seemed somewhat annoyed by the interruption. She began to open her mouth, a low rumble emanated as she showed the golden glow in her throat beginning to shine. The heat from within her warming the cold air.

He felt adrenaline coursing through him, eradicating any trace of fear. "Dohaeras!" he shouted before her fiery breath could exhale towards him. He had trained tirelessly in the pit, despite not having a dragon, learning the ancient arts of communication and strengthening his body and mind. "Dohaeras, Vhagar" he said, his voice clear and firm, trying not to betray the strength of his pounding heart. He raised his hand towards her. "Lykiri!" he shouted, never taking his eyes off her. The air seemed to change, becoming heavier and charged with energy. Vhagar slowly closed her mouth. "Lykiri" he repeated. Vhagar brought her huge head closer to his hand, sniffing him, he knew better than to underestimate the beast, so he stayed still. "Lykiri."

When he noticed that the dragon didn't take her eyes off him, as if scrutinizing every fiber of his being, he approached the ropes again, now gripping them tightly. With agile movements, he climbed up to the saddle.

"Soves!" he shouted. "Dohaeras, Vhagar. Soves." The very earth trembled as the dragon rose fully, her movements sounded like thunder and almost caused him to fall. Her immense body cast a huge shadow over the beach. Roars escaped her mouth. With a deep breath, he tried to channel his inner energy, focusing on the bond he was forming with the dragon.

With a beat of her wings, she rose vertically into the air. This almost caused him to fall off the saddle into the sea. The coarse ropes burned his hands from how tightly he clung to them, as Vhagar soared ever higher. Once in the sky, at dizzying heights, the dragon began to dive downward, testing his mettle. He managed to sit in the saddle, and he firmly took the reins, redirecting her to fly horizontally. When they finally stabilized, gliding majestically, he closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to absorb everything. The fresh wind roared around him and caressed his face, and the rhythmic sound of Vhagar's wings was like a melody of strength, freedom, and power. From above, he could see the entire sea before them, the vast sand dunes stretching on one side, bordered by the white foam of the waves breaking against the shore, and the majestic castle bathed in the moon's glow. A landscape of infinite possibilities unfolding below him, eliciting laughter of pure excitement from his lips.

He had never experienced anything so glorious, he found himself swept away by a euphoria unlike any he had ever known. He felt the connection with Vhagar not only as rider and dragon but as souls intertwined in an ancestral dance.

Vhagar began to head back towards the land they had left who knew how long ago. She descended slightly. The dragon's skill and precision were impressive, and he felt safe, fully trusting in his companion's abilities. With a roar, she swayed from side to side in the air, skimming the sea, splashing salty water on his face, and he shouted with a mix of awe and pure happiness, barely audible above the wind. The sensation of flying, of being part of the sky, was indescribable. Every cell in his body vibrated with energy, and for a moment, all his dreams and efforts seemed to culminate in this unique experience, a sense of belonging and purpose that he had only experienced before just with her.

Climbing the stairs with determined steps, he felt the weight of a new self on his shoulders. Each ascended step was testimony to his transformation, a metamorphosis he yearned to share with her, his confidant and muse for this new adventure. He could already envision the moment when he would return to her chambers, eager to recount the daring feat he had accomplished on their behalf. He anticipated her scolding for not waiting, followed by the sweet symphony of praise that only she could offer, her words a balm to his soul, validating his courage in a way that no one else could. He also longed to witness his father's proud face and full of surprise tomorrow when he discovered that all those past trips to the pits endured in pursuit of this singular moment, for today he was riding the largest dragon alive.

His cape hung from one shoulder as he marked his entrance onto the solitary balcony, soon invaded by an audience of familiar shadows.

"It's him" a feminine voice shouted, full of accusation and annoyance, piercing the silence.

"It's me" his response echoed with certainty, challenging those who questioned him. The four faces before him were a constellation of resentment, burning with indignation.

"Vhagar is my mother's dragon" the eldest spat out, a declaration thrown with a desperate attempt to stake claim to a false legacy long lost.

"Your mother is dead," he replied, a refusal to be overshadowed. He had dreamed his whole life of this moment and wouldn't let them diminish it, "and Vhagar has a new rider now" he proclaimed proudly, holding the banner of his own ascent.

Those words were like swords clashing in a duel of wills. He clung to his new identity with the strength of a warrior, refusing to back down. "She was mine to claim" Rhaena seethed.

"Then you should have claimed her" he retorted, filled with an indomitable spirit, full of power, fueled by an idea that gave him no respite: he would never again be that vulnerable boy, subjected to ridicule and scorn. "Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride" he said, recalling that joke, as he looked at his nephews. With Vhagar at his command, he felt invincible, ready to face any challenge.

The air crackled with anger as Rhaena lunged fiercely at him without warning. He acted on instinct, grabbing her arms and deflecting her to the side, in a quick and defensive response. Before regaining his balance, a punch struck his face, the fist connecting with his jaw sent a torrent of pain through him. Without stopping, and with his determination intact, he pushed Baela forcefully, watching her fall flat in front of him.

"Come at me again and I'll feed you to my dragon" he warned sharply, trying to keep his attackers at bay.

But then Jacaerys launched himself at him with unrestrained fury, knocking him backwards to the unforgiving ground. Baela and Rhaena joined the attack, a violent circle around him. They were all over him, punches and kicks raining down on him. The pain was cushioned by the surge of adrenaline flooding his body. He tried to contain the tide of attacks when he felt a new power and energy flowing through him, strengthening his resolve.

Despite being at a disadvantage and with his back against the ground, he didn't yield. With precise kicks, he managed to bring his attackers down to their feet. He took a rock in his right hand that was beside him, and he wrapped the other around Lucerys's neck, who came running when his brother was on the ground. Standing up again, he raised his hand with the rock, threatening to strike the child he held. The tension was palpable as everyone else backed away slightly in a momentary surrender.

"You are going to die screaming in flames just like your father did. Bastards."

“My father is still alive” Lucerys screamed as he could. 

“He doesn’t know, does he? Lord Strong” his voice resonated with bitterness, glancing at Jace, and a brief regret filled him after uttering those words, but it didn’t last long, as his nephew didn't hesitate to react to the insult, drawing a blade from his pocket, pointing it in a defiant gesture. The confrontation intensified, sparking glances clashed with the promise of an imminent conflict. Releasing the younger one's neck, he pushed him in Jacaerys’s direction. Despite the adrenaline and anger engulfing him, he knew this had gone too far and needed to end it. He sought nothing more than to give them a scare and show them that he wouldn't be bullied anymore, but when Jace swung his blade towards him and with a fluid movement, he hit his face with the rock. Now with Jace on the ground and the rock still in his hand, he watched them with a mixture of relief and exhaustion, hoping they would run away. But peace was not meant for him. A cloud of dirt suddenly rose, thrown by Jace's hand, blinding his vision and plunging him into darkness. In the midst of chaos, Lucerys saw his opportunity, the blade that dimly shined in the gloom, like a symbol of their resistance.

A distressing scream escaped his throat, falling backwards to the ground, stripped of any sense of balance. His body shook with agony, while his mind struggled to comprehend what had happened. The world around him blurry, he felt his ears muffled, buzzing with a dull sound as the pounding of his heart hammered forcefully in his chest while he brought his hand to his left eye, stinging with pain. A sharp sensation consumed him completely. He didn't know at what moment the members of the king’s guard had entered, but suddenly he felt other hands take his face, pulling his own away from the sore eye.

"Gods be good" said a terrified voice, looking down at him.

In the imposing main hall of the castle, the flickering light of the candles cast dancing shadows on the stone walls. On the Driftwood Throne his father, the king, stood with authority, flanked by Harrold Westerling on his left side and Otto, the King's Hand, on the other, alongside Criston Cole. The atmosphere was charged with a tense silence, the air itself becoming heavy with the gravity of the moment.

"How could you allow such a thing to happen?" his father's voice resonated in the hall amidst the unsettling silence that surrounded them. His expression reflected a mixture of annoyance and frustration. "I will have answers."

"The princes were supposed to be abed, my king" Harrold Westerling replied calmly.

His mother knelt beside him, her grip on his hand tight with fear as the maester diligently worked on the wounds on his face. Her eyes reflected deep worry.

"Who had the watch?"

"The young prince was attacked by his own cousins, your grace" Criston Cole responded curtly.

"You swore oaths to protect and defend my blood" his father roared, his gaze scrutinizing both guards.

"I am very sorry, your grace" murmured the older white cloak, visibly affected by the situation.

His brothers remained silent by the fireplace, their gazes fixed on the ground.

"The Kingsguard has never had to defend princes from princes, your grace" Criston continued.

"That is not an answer!" thundered, his tone relentless.

"It will heal, will it not, maester?" Alicent asked with a tremor evident in her voice. Despite being numbed by the poppy milk, he fighted to stay conscious, against the haze of pain and clinging to his mother’s hand. The room fell silent again as they awaited the verdict.

"The flesh will heal," Maester Kelvyn responded solemnly as he placed the last stitch on his hurted face, before delivering the words that would shatter his world, "but the eye is lost, your grace."

His mother stood up as if struck, her mouth gaping in shock at the staggering revelation, and her eyes welled up with tears. On the other hand, his father simply let out a sigh, as if the news were more of an annoyance than a genuine concern.

Alicent approached Aegon, grabbing him by the chest of his garments violently. "Where were you?" she snapped.

"Me?" he said, bewildered and still with his mind clouded by alcohol. Before he could react, his mother turned his face with a slap, leaving a red mark on his cheek. Aegon winced, bringing his hand to the sore area. "What was that for?" he shouted with palpable anger.

"That was nothing compared to the abuse your brother suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool" his mother responded, her words oozing with acridity.

Hurried footsteps down the main stairs echoed, and he knew who they were when he heard the calls of Baela and Rhaena.

"What is the meaning of this?" Corlys shouted, hastily entering the room, his expression confused as he witnessed the scene and heard the commotion in the middle of the night. His expression twisted upon seeing him sitting in a chair, clearly injured.

Suddenly, the entrance to the hall swung open, revealing a visibly distressed Rhaenyra. "Kids!" she exclaimed desperately, scanning the room for them. Upon spotting them, she rushed over urgently. "Where is your sister?" she asked them, however he didn't hear the answer. He only watched as a lady-in-waiting hurried out to the rooms. He silently appreciated the absence of his princess, fearful of her reaction to his battered face and the accusations that had arisen in the fight, although he prayed for her understanding. Rhaenyra stooped to the level of her sons, scrutinizing their faces. "Show me, show me" she begged the youngest, who covered his nose with his hands. "Who did this?" Rhaenyra asked.

"They attacked me!" he defended himself.

"He attacked Baela!"

"He broke Luke's nose!"

"He stole my mother's dragon!"

"He was going to kill Jace!" He heard the accusatory shouts, leaning back against the sofa's backrest again, too sore to bear any more unfounded accusations.

"Enough!" Viserys shouted, but his voice was lost in the tumult of the fight.

"It should be my son telling the tale!" Alicent exclaimed angrily as she held his hand once more, while pointing at her chest with the other.

"He called us..." Jacaerys began before being interrupted by the king, who struck his cane against the floor, drawing everyone's attention.

"Aemond," their father called, approaching him with firm steps, though avoiding direct eye contact, "I will have the truth of what happened" he said, shouting. "Now!"

“What else is there to hear?” his mother defended. “Your son has been maimed and her son is responsible.”

“It was a regrettable accident” Rhaenyra intervened.

“Accident?” Alicent asked, her eyes widening with disbelief. “The prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush, he meant to kill my son!” she said, he felt too exhausted to correct her.

“It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves!” Rhaenyra shouted, ignoring the true nature of the events. “Vile insults were levied against them.”

“What insults?”

“The legitimacy of my children's birth was put loudly to question.”

“What?” their father asked, astonished.

“He called us bastards!” Jace shouted, omitting the details leading up to that statement in his own favor.

Alicent looked at him, and he looked at her, without uttering a word. He wouldn't lie about what happened, even if it meant facing her later and ask for her forgiveness.

“My children are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, your grace, this is the highest of treasons” Rhaenyra said with her soft voice, sweetening their father's ears. “Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn about where he heard such slanders.” With the little strength he had left, he turned to look at her. 

“Over an insult?” his mother asked, incredulous. “My son has lost an eye” she pointed out, trembling with distress.

“You tell me, boy, where did you hear these lies?” his father questioned, his tone attempting to denote authority.

“The insult was a training yard bluster. The lot of boys, it was nothing” Alicent interjected, trying to defend her son. However, his father looked at her sternly, silencing her.

“Aemond, I asked you a question” his father insisted.

“Where is Ser Laenor? I wonder. The children’s father, perhaps he might have something to say in the matter” his mother tried to divert attention.

“Yes, where is Ser Laenor?” Viserys asked Rhaenyra.

“I do not know, your grace, I could not find sleep so I had gone out for a walk” he felt her stutter, uncomfortable.

“Entertaining his young squires, I would venture” Alicent said. A faint hint of laughter escaped Criston Cole's lips.

“Aemond, look at me, your king demands an answer” he continued, cutting through the tension, and for the first time looking at his face, seeking truth. How desperately he wished for his father to demand justice, to stand by him this time. “Who spoke these lies to you?” Anguish and pain invaded him as he gazed back, craving his support and understanding if only this fleeting moment. He didn't need his father worried in front of him, on his knees, holding his hand like his mother did, he just longed for reassurance that he wasn't alone while confronting the adversity. However, instead of finding solace in his father's eyes, he saw only suspicion and demand for explanation, the disappointment heavy in the air. He looked at his mother, the only one who seemed to be on his side now, in search of support. His father turned to look at Alicent, misinterpreting the silent exchange as a signal.

“It was Aegon” he replied hurriedly, releasing the truth.

“Me?” Aegon asked, confused. His father looked at him with growing irritation.

“And you, boy, where did you hear such calumnies?” he inquired. He felt his older brother's accusatory gaze on him, but his attention remained fixed on Alicent.

“Aegon!” their father shouted, weary. “Tell me the truth of it!”

“We know, father” Aegon bravely replied. “Everyone knows, just look at them” he added with a hint of disgust. His lip trembled at the thought of what she would feel when she found out.

“This interminable infighting must cease! All of you!” he shouted, his eyes scanning each of those present. “We are a family!” he shouted. Aemond looked at him, hurt. Were they only a family when his eldest daughter was affected? “Now make your apologies and show goodwill to one other.”

Alicent looked at him, disbelieving what she heard, shaking her head in disapproval and denial.

“Your father, your grandsire and your king demands it!” he continued, as he walked away from Aegon, throwing him a sidelong glance. He lowered his gaze to his feet, the pain in his chest almost comparable to the one of his face.

As he passed Alicent, limping, she watched him go and said: “That is insufficient.” Viserys looked at her again. “Aemond has been damaged permanently, my king, goodwill cannot make him whole” she said, her voice finally breaking.

“I know, Alicent” he said, exhausted by the situation. “But I cannot restore his eye.”

“No, because it has been taken.”

“What would you have me do?” he asked, feeling the tension in the room escalate.

“There is a debt to be paid” she said, surprising everyone. Alicent turned to Rhaenyra, her gaze lost in emptiness.

“I shall have one of her son’s eyes in return” she declared. The room filled with murmurs as everyone processed the shocking words.

“My dear wife” Viserys said, looking at her strangely.

“He's your son, Viserys! Your blood” she exclaimed, tears falling from her eyes, showing immense love for her son and her powerlessness at the king's resolution.

“Do not allow your temper to guide your judgment” he warned her, face to face, with evident annoyance.

“If the king will not seek justice, the queen will” she sentenced. “Ser Criston,” she called, sending shivers down everyone’s spine, “bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon.”

“Mother!” Luke’s cry rang out, frightened.

“Alicent!” Viserys called.

“He can choose which eye to keep, a privilege you did not grant my son!” she retorted.

“You will not do such thing” Rhaenyra muttered quietly.

“Stay your hand” Viserys ordered Criston.

“No, you are sworn to me!” Alicent cried out desperately as she clung to the last shreds of control.

“As your protector, my queen” Cole concluded.

Alicent's gaze lost itself in his sad face, her expression transforming at the sight.

“Alicent, this matter is finished” Viserys told her. “Do you understand?” She did not look back at him. “And let it be known, anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of princess Rhaenyra's children should have it removed” said, raising his voice and looking at Alicent.

“Thank you, father” Rhaenyra said. It was then that he understood, a hint of resignation in his heart as he came to terms with the harsh reality of their family dynamic; their father's one and only priority was Rhaenyra. As the king turned to retire to his chambers, ready to put an end to the matter, Alicent acted swiftly, snatching the dagger he always carried with him. Chaos erupted in the room, her actions sparking a flurry of shouts and warnings.

“Your grace! Stay with the king!” Harrold shouted.

“Alicent!”

“Hold your approach!” shouted Criston, rushing to her, seizing her hand with the dagger raised, trying to contain and prevent the situation from escalating further. The room was divided into two factions with him in the middle. His desperate mother struggled to break free from the guards as she hurled accusations towards Rhaenyra.

Children's cries filled the room, and adult’s too. Alicent aimed the dagger high, seeking revenge by her own hand. Rhaenyra, at the front of her side, shouted: “You've gone too far!” 

“I?” his mother asked, bewildered, unhinged. “What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law while you flout all to do as you please.”

“Alicent!” Viserys shouted.

“Where is the duty, where is the sacrifice? It’s trampled under your pretty foot again” she shouted, years of resentments coming to light.

“Release the blade, Alicent” Otto warned from his place.

"Now you take my son's eye, and to even that you feel entitled!" 

"Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding behind the cloak of your righteousness" Rhaenyra said. "But now they see you as you are" she concluded. Alicent stopped her tries abruptly, facing the gaze of her children, who watched her with fear in their eyes, except for one. She realized her mistake and dropped the dagger to the floor. Everyone looked at his mother as if she had descended into madness. 

He, as best he could, stood and spoke out loud enough for all to hear, seated from his place, intervening. "Do not mourn me, mother. It was a fair exchange" he said calmly, breaking the silence with a declaration that changed the course of events. "I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon." 

"This matter is concluded" said Viserys firmly. The room split into two factions as Criston released Alicent, now calm, and picked up the dagger from the floor. He directed his gaze towards his mother, a new image forming of her.

Exhaustion slowly overcame him, like waves lapping at the shore. Every breath was an effort, every blink a step closer to the surrender of an inevitable dream. Beside him, Helaena watched with growing desperation as he began to fade before her eyes, grabbing the chair to avoid falling. With a trembling voice, she called for her mother, who in turn urgently summoned the maester into the room, pleading for his intervention, while running up to him. Beads of sweat dotted his entire face, reflecting his internal struggle, while his skin lost vitality, turning pale and cold. 

In a final whisper, barely audible amidst the concern, he addressed his sister with a plea. "Ask her to stay," he whispered, before succumbing to the embrace of sleep, "by my side."

@callsignwidow @helaenaluvr @purplegardenwhispers @fics-i-love-and-recommend @scarletbedlam @squidscottjeans @woodlandwrites ♥

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

01/17/2024 Crew Recap

Well, today was once again a day of new and exciting things happening, and some fun progress on all fronts. Anything I missed -- as always please add. Links to all the threads are in the pictures so please visit them, I want to make sure people who actually posted them are credited :) I realize this is a lot, so if you don't wanna read it all, please at least hop to the bottom for a special message.

===Today's Impact===

Petition Status: We broke 58,000 Signatures! Great job everyone!

Our Flag Means Death Status on Television Stats -- Numbers went up a bit!

#SaveOFMD Trending #4 in Hungary, way to go friends!

Source

Wondering if your calls are working? THEY ARE! Apparently they are cataloging and categorizing calls.

Warner Bros Discovery Inc is still trending downward!

Our Flag For Palestine - Care for Gaza Fundraiser is up to $7535!

The team on this is pretty great about transparency, feel free to check out the twitter thread here

===Cast / Crew Sightings===

Chaos Dad, David Jenkins posted about the 35th Annual Glaad Media Awards Nominating Our Flag Means Death for Outstanding Comedy Series!

Con O'Neill started posting stories on IG with #SaveOFMD and also he showed up in a Screen Rant Plus interview! Our Flag Means Death Interview: Con O’Neill On Izzy & Blackbeard In Season 2

And our Pirate Queen Ruibo Qian was reposting save ofmd art on IG!

=Latest Twitter / Other Platform Insanity=

So apparently someone updated the Our Flag Means Death Wikipedia page to say one of the Production Companies was Astroglide, you cheeky little fuckers.

Source

Squishables joined the fun with Astroglide.

Astroglide Announced a Live Reaction Video to OFMD they'll be doing on Friday. Thanks to IG: _Irene_Adler for bringing this to my attention! Somehow I missed it looking at this post this morning.

===Articles===

1. Could HBO’s Beloved ‘Our Flag Means Death’ Jump To Another Ship After Cancellation?

2. Our Flag Means Death's "numbers weren't there" for renewal says MAX's boss - but it is welcome to sail to another platform

3. OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH CANCELED AT MAX, BUT IT COULD FIND LIFE ON OTHER PLATFORMS

===Ways to Help===

So I found of a new way to keep engagement up that I hadn't heard of before-- I apologize if you all already know about it and I'm repeating it! Daily Clicks to help with Engagement: Clickable Links below:

Our Flag Means Death Wikipedia Page Google Search for Our Flag Means Death Google UK Search for Our Flag Means Death Our Flag Means Death IMDB

Fundraiser for LimbPower

Looks like another fundraiser going on by our fellow OFMD Crew, right now is by For Our New Unicorn, that benefits LimbPower. This has been going on since December but has had some ramp up since the cancellation announcement. If you're looking for somewhere to donate, seems to be a good cause!

Calls / Emails / Faxes

I don't believe anything has changed in terms of calls and emails but here's the latest info in case you're just joining us, there's a lovely post over at @renewasacrew's post.

Postcards / Outside the US Fans

@renewasacrew has the following awesome post about how to send mail from outside the US: Are you outside the US and looking to send Warner Bros. Discovery CEO David Zaslav a letter? 🏴‍☠️

Petition

As usual, sharing the petition with posts is super helpful, and @merryfinches has a cool guide on how to get additional email addresses if you want to help send more signatures here

Hashtag Updates from yesterday

#RenewAsACrew #SaveOFMD #TheNumbersWereThere.

================================================

❤️❤️Lastly because even if you are tired of hearing it, I'm going to keep saying it, so suck it up buttercup here comes some love ❤️❤️

================================================

Every single one of you is enough.

If you bust your ass for this campaign, YOU ARE ENOUGH.

If you signed the petition and that was it, YOU ARE ENOUGH

If you lurk and keep an eye on things, YOU ARE ENOUGH.

If you do nothing at all, and just take care of yourself, YOU ARE ENOUGH.

There is NOTHING in this world that you could do to make you not enough.

Remember that.

You are amazing-

and beautiful-

and everything you do every single day is wonderful-

and YOU are worthy of love.

You are doing a great job just being you. Keep doing that.

We are so lucky to have each and every one of you here on this planet with us.

Remember to drink some water, and take care of yourself if you can. Even if it's just a few minutes a day. You got this, and you're loved. 🥰

Love you crew. Have a good night/day, wherever you are on this little blue dot. <3

[yellowjackets96]

the way you do the things you do / angus tully x reader — part one

summary / chaos is only natural when barton's resident misfit strikes up a bond with the middle child of the school's most despised instructor.

warnings / none

word count / 1,300+

hii! this one goes out to the very wise anon who suggested a plot revolving around angus and mr. hunham's kid, which, i must say, is an utterly brilliant concept. however, it turned out to be a lot longer than just a mere one-shot like my first one had been, so it'll probably end up being two or three parts. i hope that's okay, lovely anon. thank you for sharing your brilliance with me!

Moreso than anything else, the relationship between the two of you started as an agreement. Well, an unspoken one, but an agreement nonetheless. Somebody had to look out for the two of you, on equal footing as outliers, as social rejects, as the odd men out. No one could be better for that role than you yourselves. 

To your utter dismay, ever since your parents made the decision to ship you off to Barton Academy in order to get you “the best education available” for high school (which was made possible by your father’s half-off tuition staff discount), you found yourself under a level of scrutiny that you never once faced at your old public junior high. It was not your intention to be perceived as the offspring of the most hated man there, either, but word travels quicker than a deer crossing the road at Barton. A concept introduced to the dean on a Sunday morning ends up widely-understood knowledge by a Monday evening. You’d already been written off as the ‘spawn of Satan’ before you even started your first class. Tough fuckin’ luck.

On the other hand, Angus’s isolation was entirely self-imposed. Following several years of what his mother had promised would be a “short-lived maintenance phase,” he became fed up with the entire process — the constant shifting and forced socialization and paperwork and meetings with headmasters. Lather, rinse, repeat, over and over until he felt utterly insane. He grew to resist society’s forced conditioning of him, lashing out the only way he knew how, through acts of adolescent rebellion. Due to how much you contrast from your stickler father, you eventually saw eye to eye with Angus on this. Once you had finally worn him down to the point of dragging a tragic backstory out of him, you understood why, because, of course no teenager could possibly be interested in the art of befriending their peers and engrossing themselves in a community at their third consecutive school. 

But it didn’t start off too swimmingly.

He entered your life on the strangest day of the week, during the least-interesting possible time of year — a Thursday in late February. You learned of his arrival through the grapevine, mere hours before you first saw him. Perched at a seat towards the very corner of the dining hall, you had become increasingly intrigued by the nearby nonstop chatter from a group populated by Georgie Jackson, Philip McNamara, Billy Wolfe, and Teddy Kountze, a rare sight in the seven o’clock breakfast setting, which was typically chock full of half-dead, completely exhausted teenagers.

“You wanna bet it’s gonna be another freak?” Teddy had grumbled, shaking his head dismissively at something optimistic Georgie must have said. “They’re half the school, at this point.”

He not-so-transparently nodded towards you, earning him in-sync laughs from the more agreeable Philip and Billy, and a halfhearted head shake from Georgie. “Christ, dude. And you wonder why we’re the only kids who tolerate you.”

Teddy threw his hands up defensively. “Hey, I’m just sayin’! We could benefit from someone actually cool and fun.”

“God, could you imagine how cool a girl would be?” Billy daydreamed, practically drooling.

The shaggy-haired blonde smirked. “You’re telling me. That’s all I wanted since I first enrolled here. Would be nice if old man Woodrup would do what the student body actually wants, for once.”

“Instead,” Philip piped up, wearing a dejected pouty frown. “I’m hearing this guy got kicked outta three different schools.”

Your curiosity piqued, you finally jumped in, against your better judgment. “What could possibly get a teenage boy tossed from not one, not two, but three schools? That sounds utterly ridiculous.”

The energy sufficiently changed as Teddy shot you a poisonous glare, you watched the trio of his small-time henchmen sink into their seats, seemingly anxious at how angry you were about to make him. His scrunched-up face twisted into a confident smirk, like he was one-thousand percent confident he could ensure you would never speak to him again. “What’s it to you, Walleye Jr.? You think I’d lie about some shit like that? Would you tell your daddy if I did?”

A scoff escaping your throat, you leaned back into your seat, slightly dejected. “Well, no, but-”

“That’s what I thought,” Teddy said, his lackeys chuckling in unison, practically on cue. “And you wonder why you don’t have any friends, loser.”

Just like that, enforced unnecessary social hierarchy had left you right back where you were before, with more questions than you could ever get proper answers for.

Once lunch period rolled around, you figured you may as well not try your luck again. 

Wrapping a gentle fist against the surface of your father’s door, you barely had to stand by for more than a few moments before he greeted you, the smile that he saved for you and the rest of your family plastered across his cheeks as he slung an arm across your shoulder, pulling you into a casual hug. Due to the academy’s policy of teacher’s children not being allowed to take their parent’s classes to avoid favoritism, you no longer spent time with him every day as you typically did with your mother back home. The reunion was definitely something you had been yearning for since you last saw him, even though it must have been no less than a week ago last Sunday. For the first time in far too long, something at Barton brought joy back to you. 

“How have you been, sweetheart?” your father asked, his reading glasses bouncing slightly on the bridge of his nose as he sat back down at his desk. He pointed to the chair on the other end of it, offering it to you. You gladly accepted, tugging the seat out and sliding into it.

You shrugged at the question, trying not to pay Kountze and his gang of blockheads too much mind. “Fine. Haven’t really done anything too notable or special.”

“Well, hey,” he offered, sliding a sheet labeled roll call across the desk to you. “Maybe this’ll brighten your spirits, despite how much the prospect of it annoys me.”

As soon as he finishes speaking, you instantly know what he was referring to, your eyes catching on the highlighted name sandwiched between Neil Sweeney and Todd Wedderling, bearing an emboldened word next to it — Angus Tully (NEW). And then, like it were on cue, the door behind the two of you swung open, revealing the sight of an instantly-enrapturing bearer of deeply brown eyes.

“Ah, Mr. Tully,” your father remarked, rising from the desk to greet him. “What a coincidence. I was just introducing them to you.”

Angus snorted. “All good things, I hope.”

“You’ve yet to prove us otherwise,” the older man quipped, before quickly turning toward you. “This is my middle child, the one Dr. Woodrup told you about. They’re a sophomore like you, so even though you won’t be in my class together, I’m sure you’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

Picking up on the hint, you offer the other teenager a hand, which he casually shakes. “Pleasure to meet you, Angus.”

The brunette offered a crooked half-smile, enough to draw one out of you, too. “Nice to meet you as well.” Everything about him seemed natural — the way he didn’t force his grin, the warmth of his palm, the distinct waviness of his mud-shaded curls. This school left you perpetually surrounded by well-off jackasses, standing where they were currently placed via generational wealth, rather than strength and perseverance, working off of their own merits as your father had. Not to say that Tully was dissimilar in that manner, but he just felt so distinctly different, like he was not even trying to cultivate a phony persona in the effort of impressing others. If only everyone were like him. Maybe Barton would be bearable after all.

[hxney-lemcn]

Love Is Scary — Eleventh Doctor x gn! reader

summery: Doctor takes reader to a planet that he thinks they'll love. Reader has a bit more on mind than just the cute animals that inhabit the planet.

tw: Fear of unrequited love (spoilers, it is very requited)

a/n: @tonyiloveyou asked for confessions and I've been wanting to write it anyways so here y'all go

wc: 2.4k

Master List

(This is a part of a one shot series: Part One | Part Two)

“See!” The Doctor spoke proudly. “Not everything has to be a life or death situation.”

“You’ve outdone yourself this time, Doctor,” I replied, watching the maroon and pink grass flow with the wind. It was quite extraordinary really. The pink tips of the grass swaying was somewhat hypnotic. The trees behind us were a rich purple and red, seeming to brush against the sky. Oh what a sky it was. The atmosphere was transparent, revealing the stars and planets that lay beyond. 

“I’ve wanted to bring someone here for quite some time actually,” The Doctor started. “Not the best place for humans though.”

“A shame,” I muttered. “Are you sure you’ll be able to sit around with me and be bored for a bit?”

“Darling, anything with you is far from boring,” He replied seriously, that stupidly soft look in his eye once more. “Besides! Mundane is good, remember?”

I rolled my eyes in amusement, something I found myself doing often in the madman's presence, “Pretty sure you only said that so I wouldn’t feel bad about the lack of adventure I lived.” 

“Lack of adventure?” The brown haired timelord asked incredulously. “Are all the things we’ve done together not adventurous enough?”

“Doctor, in the entire span of my life, I’ve mainly lived on Earth hiding amongst humans,” I explained. “Compared to you, I’ve barely explored anything.”

“Oh my sweet, sweet (y/n),” Doctor muttered, closing the distance between us. He held my face softly between his hands and I felt my heart race at the touch. “There’s nothing wrong with that. And no one can really compare to me now can they?” I stared at him blankly as he pulled away, a smug grin resting on his lips. 

“I hate you,” I grumbled. 

“No you don’t,” He replied effortlessly. 

I turned around, facing the forest, hating how right he was, “Are there any life forms?”

“Some rudimentary animal species,” Doctor explained. “Mainly in the forest, but there are some in the water as well.”

“Like on Earth?” I asked, glancing back at him, only to startle at how close he got. 

“Yes,” He nodded, hazel eyes once again on me. It felt like burning with his entire attention only on me, I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not. “Well no, but yes if it will help you understand better.”

“I’m not human,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I can see the future of any being or thing. Give me more credit.”

“Right,” Doctor cleared his throat, adjusting his bowtie after. “I’m just used to-”

“Human companions,” I finished for him. “I know. I’m assuming the beings on this planet are connected to the planet, like a hivemind of sorts.”

“Exactly!” The Doctor clapped, once again holding my head in his hands, leaning forward to place a kiss on my forehead before hesitating. I stood there with bated breath as he leaned a little higher, right above my third eye, and placed a kiss to my hairline. “As brilliant as ever.”

I hated this. I hated this warm feeling that engulfed me at the affectionate actions. The want and need that filled through me. The loneliness I knew would follow soon after. He was closer than I expected when I opened my eyes. His stare, oh that stare. It was so warm, so loving, like he never wanted this moment to end. I didn’t want this moment to end, but I also didn’t want it to exist. 

It sparked that familiar feeling. The feeling of hope. Of the possibility that he felt the same way I did. Damn Rory for putting that thought into my head. I know he was just trying to help, but Rory didn’t understand how complicated this was. Or…was it? But whenever it seemed like the Doctor and I would step over a boundary we couldn’t go back from, he’d change the subject. Which in turn would take that spark of hope and snuff it once more. A tortuous cycle that I set myself up for every time. 

“Come on,” He broke the silence. “I want to show you something.”

I blinked, coming back to reality, “Was this not what you wanted to show me?” Once again, the moment was averted. 

“No,” He shook his head, his brown hair falling out of place…not that it ever was in place. “Well yes, but only a part of it.” Holding his hand out to me, he smiled brightly and repeated, “Come on.”

I decided to try and stop overthinking everything. Just to let go and live in the moment. The moment where the Doctor took me to the most beautiful planet I’ve ever seen. Where he’s staring at me like I’ve hung the stars. Where he’s holding my hand oh so gently as we walk through a forest of vibrant purples and reds. For once, I’ll indulge myself, even if it’ll hurt later. 

I felt breathless as we entered a clearing. The forest was dark (due to the sky being transparent to the cosmos), but the clearing was a bit brighter. A river rushed past, a dark navy blue that I was familiar with on Earth. A few of the animals that the Doctor spoke of stood by the river, watching us with curious eyes. No need to be afraid, not having come in contact with predators before. Reminds me of the Dodo. Those poor birds.

The Doctor kept walking, stopping only when he realized we weren’t holding hands anymore, “Come on dear, they won’t bite.”

I trailed after him, crouching down in front of a cream colored creature. I wasn’t exactly sure of the name, or if all the creatures on this planet shared one. In fact, the color pallet of this planet reminded me of red velvet in a way. Holding my hand out, I tried to get it to sniff me, to prove I was no threat. It only turned its head in confusion. 

Leaning down next to me, the Doctor handed me some fruit. It was a bright orange, almost neon. I suppose its so it could stand out for the creatures to eat. Once more, I held my hand out, this time the creature didn’t hesitate to eat the fruit I held out to it. 

“It's so cute!” I couldn’t help but smile as I turned to look at the Doctor. “Can we take one home?”

The Doctor paused, seeming to do a double take before asking, “Home?”

I paused to, unsure what I meant by that. Did I mean the house I called a home because it's where I slept? Or did I mean the Tardis, where I found solace in the fact that the Doctor was never far away? Or did I mean simply with him, with us, wherever we chose to go?

“Y-yeah,” I slightly stuttered, turning back to a different looking creature. I shrugged, “You know…”

“Would you like to go back?” 

I looked at him in confusion, “Where?”

“Home,” He simply stated, eyes seemingly interested anywhere but me. 

I worried my lip between my teeth, deciding to take a small leap, “I am home.” Petting one of the creatures seemed to help calm me, they were quite receptive to the pets. A fond smile reached my lips as even more creatures started to surround the two of us. 

“You mean this planet?” The Doctor asked and I felt myself scoffing. 

How could a brilliant timelord be so daft?

“I mean with you, stupid,” I rolled my eyes and slapped his shoulder lightly. 

“Oh,” Such a simple reply. I kept my focus as even more animals gathered around. Some similar, others different. Don’t think. Everything is fine. “Dear, I think we should go now.”

I felt my heart drop. This was it, this was the rejection. The moment was slipping, and I wish it would just stop. 

“Is…is it okay if we stay a little longer?” I asked, petting the small creature on my lap. “I like it here.”

“I wish I could say yes, dearest,” The Doctor whispered, closer than I realized. “But I’m afraid we’ve overstayed our welcome.”

My eyebrows furrowed, looking towards the Doctor, only to find him staring at the animals around us. When did there get to be so many? I stood up slowly, carefully placing the small creature that was on my lap on the ground.  “They’re expecting more fruit,” I stated, their eyes following the Doctor and I. 

“They won’t turn violent,” The Doctor reassured in a hushed tone. “But they may not want us to leave.”

“Darn,” I faked defeat. “I guess that means we’re stuck on this beautiful planet with the cutest creatures for the rest of our lives.”

The Doctor laughed lightly, “I don’t think the Ponds would be too happy if we admitted defeat so quickly.”

“Or,” I pointed out. “They would be disappointed finding out that we skipped out on a great opportunity.”

“Is this the same Amy we’re talking about?” He questioned with a glint in his eye.

“Is this the same Rory we’re talking about?” I countered.

“Touche.”

______

I watched from the railing as the Doctor did his little dance around the Tardis’ control board. No word about my comment. No reciprocation or clarity about whether he felt the same or not. Once again, changing the subject before the lines of our relationship could get too blurred. I wasn’t sure if I could deal with this heavy feeling on my chest any longer. I knew it would hurt, but not this much.

“So,” I trailed off, not sure where to even start. 

“Once we pick up the Ponds, I was thinking of going to Drunun Z85, they’ve got some of the most excellent chefs there,” The Doctor started to ramble. 

“Uhm, could we talk about something first?” I asked, clenching my fists to try to ground myself. I was okay, this will be okay. 

Stopping his actions, he looked up to me, eyes wide and a slight smile, “Yes! Of course! Talking’s good, talking’s fun.” I tilted my head slightly as he rubbed his hands together and glanced around the room. 

“Are you nervous?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking.

“Me? Nervous? Never,” Waving his hands about, he went to fiddle some more with the console of the Tardis.

“Okayyyy,” I drawled. “I…was just hoping I didn’t make you uncomfortable earlier. You know…me calling you…”

“Home,” The Doctor finished for me, that sad lonely look clouding his eyes, one I found often when I looked in a mirror. Once more he cleared his throat, “No, no I don’t mind.”

An awkward silence fell over the two of us. I fiddled with my fingers as the Doctor continued to pretend to be busy with the Tardis. I shouldn’t have said anything. 

The Tardis’ lights flickering brought me out of my head. The Doctor also seemed to notice as his brows furrowed into the cute focused look he has. They both seemed to be having an internal conflict with each other before the lights went out completely.

“Oh come on…” The Doctor paused before whispering out ‘sexy’. “Don’t be this way.” There was no reaction and I never realized how dark it could be without lights on. I squinted, hoping my eyes would adjust to the dark, but there was absolutely no light, no sun, no star, that could potentially reflect light and help me see. “At least give us backup lights so we don’t hurt ourselves!” The Doctor shouted, sounding frustrated. Dim lights lit up the area. Barely might I add. Still, it was better than the literal void. 

“Are you okay, love?” The Doctor asked. Well that’s a new one. Hearing him call me that hurt so nicely. 

“What’s going on?” I asked, it was the only thing I could think of. “Why’d she shut down?”

“She’s being stubborn,” He replied. 

“About what?”

“She wants me to admit something,” He sighed. “Something I’d rather keep to myself.”

“Oh,” I muttered, feeling disheartened. “You don’t have to tell me. Tardis, I’m sure it can be left unsaid.”

“At the same time…” The Doctor continued. “I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this in.”

I walked up to his dark outline, reaching my hand out and accidentally touching his neck. I felt my way up to cupping his cheek.

“You know you can tell me anything Doc,” I whispered, brushing my thumb against his cheek. He’s reached out to me so many times before…was this my first time reaching out to him? My heart stuttered as he leaned into my touch. “I won’t judge, I’ll always be by your side.”

It was silent for a few beats. I waited for something, anything, with bated breath. What could he possibly admit? Why was the Tardis so adamant of me needing to know? 

“I love you.”

He said it so softly I almost missed it. No, how could I miss something I’ve wished to hear for hundreds of years? The overwhelming sensation of love, confusion, and fear washed over me. I’ve wanted this for so long…too long. The yearning, the want for love, it had become a stability for me, something I could always rely on. 

But this was a good change. Love was scary, but it was also beautiful.

“I love you too,” I replied without hesitation.

“Is this the part where we kiss?”

Moving my hand from his cheek to his neck, I pulled him into a kiss. It was clumsy at first, but we both were quick learners. My skin felt like it was on fire when his hands ghosted over my waist. Pulling away, I couldn’t help but notice the Tardis lights had turned back on. 

“Okay,” The Doctor nodded, turning back to the panel. A giggle escaped him as he muttered to himself “They really kissed me, we kissed! Blimey, Amy won’t let me live this down…I won’t let me live this down.” His giddiness seemed to be infectious as I chuckled at his antics. I stopped him from flipping a switch by placing my hand on his shoulder. He turned to me, a bright smile on his lips. Before I could back out, I placed a quick kiss on his lips, just for the hell of it. I could do that now! Whenever I wanted!

“Are you trying to kill me?” The Doctor asked, his smile never faltering. 

“Not a bad way to go out,” I replied with an equally bright grin.

“Not bad at all.”

[ssadumba55]

More Jack Skellington and Ghost Child! Reader

Request: Another jack Skellington father figure headcanons please

A/N: Continuing the canon that was established here

One of your little found family's favourite things to do together was read a book at night. It was the only thing that could guarantee everyday to pull Jack from his planning from next Halloween.

The bedtime routine had become your favourite, even though you didn't really need sleep. It was a mere formality seeing as you were literally dead.

Sally would help you pick out a book from the many shelves Jack had, a lot of them were gruesome but that's what comes from living in Halloweentown.

You always made yourself corporeal for this, snuggling up beside Sally on the bed and waiting for Jack to join. And he always did too, he was never late.

Sitting between the two adult ghouls, you flipped the pages while they read the words. Reading had never been a skill you'd picked up on before, but you liked listening to them read, feeling the warmth of them on either side of you. Which was funny seeing as none of you were actually alive so there should be no warmth.

And even though you really didn't need sleep, the routine always ended with you falling asleep, being tucked in by Jack and Sally and affectionate tucking in taking place

That was the best part of having a corporeal body, you could feel the warmth of the blanket and the gentle strokes of comfort from your adoptive parents

"Can I hold your hand?" You asked nervously

You and Jack had agreed to go on a special mission for Sally, she needed things for making her special brews and for other hobbies she took part in. She had said it was a good way to get Jack out of the house.

Jack looked down at you, your nervous form flickered between the usual transparent to the corporeal form. You had never liked the hustle and bustle of the main part of Halloweentown.

He held his hand out for you to grasp, and you did. It always struck him when he held your hand how small it was compared to his. Your small child hands looked even smaller in his bony fingers.

"You sure you're going to be alright?" He gently prodded. He had promised if you didn't feel up to it, the two of you could always try again another day.

"Yeah, I'll be fine dad."

If he had a heart, it would've surely skipped a beat at those words. Being called dad was not something he ever thought would make him feel so proud. It was a greater accomplishment even than his Halloweens.

"I know you will."

"Fetch Zero!" You tossed one of Jack's bones down the graveyard for the ghost dog to catch.

He barked excitedly as he floated as fast as he could to catch it, bringing it back in record speed. You tossed it again, this time harder and further.

The dog scurried off to retrieve the bone and you waited for him to return. It was strange to be here after staying at Jack's home for so long. You didn't miss being all alone out here, but sometimes you did miss the simplicity of it.

You were lifted into the air before you could dwell on the thoughts further, Jack had snuck up behind you and he set you on his shoulders. There was nothing better than being "on top of the world".

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you."

"Zero wanted to play fetch." As you said this, the dog in question raced back bone in mouth and Jack took it from him, connecting it to himself once more.

"It's time to come inside, your bedtime routine starts soon."

You kicked your legs in contentment as he walked back up the path to Halloweentown. Zero zoomed around at Jack's feet, following the two of you home.

You glanced back at the graveyard, one might think it was longingly but in reality, you didn't miss it as much as you thought.

[girldreaming]

Lemon Color, Honey Glow

hiiii she’s so… honey… I couldn't stop listening to Lemon Glow by Beach House hence the title <3

pairing: service top!abby x afab!reader

summary: abby hangs out with her ex owen a little too long and reader gets insecure! (she will never escape him)

warnings: angsty, reader cries, established relationship, spit stuff, reader receives penetration via fingers and also receives oral, abby mouth fucks reader with her fingers? pet names used - sweetheart, doll, baby, (mama, slut, and champ are used once), alcohol mention, comfort and validation af

wc: 4.3k

minors do not interact fank yew

She’d been gone all damn day and you tried, really tried to distract yourself and relish in the alone time you’d thought would be used to self-reflect, pick up a new hobby, something! Anything productive actually.

But it just wasn't happening.

It’d been a slow morning filled with picking up the tiny apartment - if you could even call it that. You’d done all the laundry at least, gone to the cafeteria twice, and tried to read a book but still, you couldn’t stop spiraling.

Abby’s with Owen, Abby’s with her first love, Abby chose him to spend her day off patrol with, not you.

It was ringing in your ears like a gunshot every time you’d forgotten how alone you were. Like clockwork, whenever you'd found the perfect distraction, the conviction would just come barreling back. The feeling was no doubt due to the fact that Abby was your first love, almost your first everything and there was an unconscious possessiveness that came along with that. Which, of course, made it much fouler to think about, that there was a time in which she’d felt this for someone else and the fact that she would never feel it again, and certainly not for you.

Ergo, here you are, the moon barely grazing the skyline, getting ready for bed when you hear the unlocking of the front door, a flutter buzzing in your stomach. The heavy sound of it closing and the locks clicking back, however, makes your heart drop to the tile of the bathroom floor, the anticipation you’d been building all day coming to a grating boil. It would’ve been fine if it weren’t for the fact that you'd been thinking about this moment for hours. Fucking hours. Now that she was here it only filled you with panic, the blood leaving your head, hands freezing in motion kind of panic. What were you even gonna say to her? What if she smells different? What if she saw him again the same way she did when she was a teenager? Everything about it just made you sick.

All of the insecure shit you thought you’d gotten rid of was baring its ugly teeth. The jealous, nasty parts of you want to push her away so terribly that she has no choice but to go back, simply so you don’t have to look at her and act like you haven’t been pacing all day, imagining killing him in every way you could possibly think of.

Even though you know deep down nothing happened, the humiliating weight of the possibility was enough for you to beat her to the punch.

So, naturally, you leave your place in the bathroom, following the sound of Abby’s booted feet to the kitchen. I can do this, I was normal today, you hype yourself up, or try to.

“Hi, baby.” She coos, pulling you into a hug. You don’t want to punish her but you also can’t help the way your body tenses as she squeezes you, hands around your waist.

You pull away first and she moves back in for a kiss, your lips connecting for a mere moment before she’s stepping back. She smells the same, tastes like something slightly familiar - alcohol?

“What was that?” She laughs nervously, making a face. God, you were so transparent with her it wasn’t fucking fair, couldn’t hide anything.

“Nothing.” You shrug, the panic building back up in your chest, this time though, it felt like you did something wrong, the shame coursing through your veins. Your fingers instinctively fidget with each other, quickly moving behind your back to hide them from Abby, who would clock your nerves pretty damn quick.

“You sure?” She doubles down, bending over to unlace her boots, kicking them off into the middle of the room. It takes everything in you not to bitch at her, ask her to put them away, ask her don't you know better?

You hum a response, not giving her enough time to question you before you ask, “How was your day?”

“Oh, you know, Owen’s still Owen.” She smiles at you, leaning back against the countertop. The dagger of delusion you stabbed into your own heart twists, and you’d like to fall to your knees and scream but you must keep up the illusion you’ve so poorly curated for her.

“Yeah? Y’all have fun?” You distract yourself, picking her boots up from where she left them in the middle of the kitchen and returning them to where the rest of the shoes live.

“We snuck out.”

A deep breath leaves you, body tensing. You shake your head, “Abigail, what the fuck is wrong with you.” and she just laughs.

The entire time she was gone today, the aspect of her safety not once crossed your mind, and that made you feel. so. much. fucking. worse. The all too familiar knot builds at the back of your throat, threatening to take all of your words and swallow them whole.

“You know I’m smart about it, baby, I’m fine. I’m here, aren’t I?” Abby grins.

“I trust you, I do. I just would’ve liked to have known.” You seethe, a frown adorning your face as you stare at her across the room. You huff as you walk back to the bathroom, needing a second to gather your thoughts.

Unfortunately, the only thoughts that come are images of them running around, giggling together as they sneak past the gates. You can already hear her socked feet following yours, causing you to hurry in and splash water on your face, it's fine. everything is fine.

“Don’t you wanna hear about my adventure? I found you somethin' doll, you’re gonna fucking love it.” She gushes - a rare and adorable occurrence - while leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom as you turn off the faucet.

“M’ really tired, Abs, can you tell me in the morning?” You sigh.

“I’ve got patrol tomorrow.”

You've gotta be fucking kidding me.

“All day?” The dagger twists again, you'll be bleeding out soon, you think.

“Won’t get back until Friday morning, maybe Thursday night.” Abby shrugs, not too sure what the plan is.

It’s Tuesday. Yes. Definitely bleeding out now.

You try your hardest to look up, to stop the tears from forming but it’s not possible, the presence of her only making it more difficult to push down. Your signature lip quiver was the straw that broke the camel's back, Abby’s face instantly falling as she takes the two steps to be directly in front of you, grabbing your cheeks. It should feel comforting but you couldn't help but feel humiliated. You were trying so hard to regulate yourself and your emotions, but it was so difficult when you knew she was there to console you, regulate for you.

“Hey.” She breathes, your eyes squeezing shut, the tears falling with them and wetting her hands.

“What’s goin’ on with you, sweetheart?”

But you can’t speak, your throat feels like it was ripped out of your neck and you know no sound would come out even if you tried. So, you shake your head, and she hugs you again, the second time tonight you’re tense in her arms.

But she won’t let you go, so you relax, melting into her, your snot sticking to her shoulder where you bury your head.

She’s shushing your hiccups with a palm smoothing over the back of your head, holding you to her. You try to think about what you’re supposed to say next, if you should back down and go to sleep or have the conversation you’ve been rehearsing in your head for the past twelve hours.

“Are you drunk?” You sniffle into her shoulder, choosing neither. It’s quiet for a moment, a confirmation. She was too embarrassed to say, yes! My ex boyfriend and I drank too much of his homemade moonshine together, hope we don’t get botulism!

“Why are you so mad at me?” She whispers, her voice so fucking small. She sounds like a child who’s gotten into something they weren’t supposed to, meek.

It didn’t feel right, any of it. You can’t help the sob that falls out of you, shaking your head.

“I'm not.” you blubber, not very convincing.

“Do you want to be with him?” You utter, the delusions winning. They managed to take enough of your brain over to ask such a stupid, silly question that you already knew the answer to.

It was embarrassing, really, the way she pulled back, still holding you by your shoulders, a confused look on her face.

“What?” She blurts, her eyes moving around your features. You immediately look away, down at the ground, at the wall. Anywhere except her, the guilt eating you up and spitting you back out.

“You’re serious?” Abby snickers, covering her mouth, trying to control herself.

“Don’t laugh at me.” You croak, the tears slowing but your nose still running as you wipe it with your sleeve.

“I’m sorry, I jus-“ She starts, hands leaving your shoulders, going to her temple. Turning around, then turning back around, she looks at you. Long and hard.

“Is that why you’re upset? You think I cheated on you with Owen? Fucking Owen?”

“S’not funny.” You practically wail, your hands shooting up to your face, hiding yourself from her.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She’s still laughing.

“Fuck you.” You spit, on a mission to get out of this small room with her. It wasn't because you’re that upset over her laughing at you, but the anger you feel at yourself has to go somewhere and you know you'll end up taking it out on her, which just wasn't fair.

“Hey, no, come here.” Abby's serious now, walking behind you as you sit on the edge of the mattress.

“I’m sorry I was gone all day, really, that wasn’t my intention.” She mumbles as she squats down in front of you, her elbows resting on her knees, hands hanging between them.

“Well, it’s what happened.” You look down at her, blue eyes wide, apologetic.

“Do-do you want me to leave?” She stammers, mouth sitting open.

“No, I don’t want you to leave, Abby.” You grimace, rolling your eyes. You were still being mean and didn't know why.

“Don't like it when you roll your eyes at me."

"Abby, please." You sniffle, tears threatening to spill once again, you didn't want that part of her right now, just needed the nice part that was obsessed with you, and just you.

Your stuttered breaths interrupt the silence in the room, Abby’s temple resting on your knee in response, snuggling into you. She was obviously finding it difficult to let you ride out your mood on her, but knew she didn't have much of a choice.

“Today was so fucking hard.” You squeak.

“M’ sorry, pretty. I kept thinking it was over and then Manny showed up with Leah an-“ She starts, head detaching from your leg to look back up at you.

“It’s fine, seriously, just haven’t felt insecure like that in so long. I feel so crazy.” You interrupt, hoping the more you let it out of your body the more it’ll actually leave.

“Sweet girl.” She sighs, pressing a soft kiss to the skin of your knee.

“I would’ve come home.”

“It’s so embarrassing.” You whine as you look up again, the ball in your throat reappearing, threatening. She’s still squatted before you, her hands beginning to rub the smooth of your thighs, shushes leaving her mouth as she tries to calm you down. You feel relief for the first time today, knowing she was here, choosing to be here.

"Shh, eyes on me." She directs, you tilt your head down to her, blue eyes studying yours. Her lips push out to a pout considering your state, puffy eyes, and red nose. She moves her head closer to your stomach, butterflies swarming.

“Don’t be embarrassed, baby.” A peck to your inner thigh, which her palm is pushing apart.

“I’ve done worse without you.” She nods, breathing onto your exposed midriff, the hot air tickling, your own breath hitching. The memory of that instance comes flooding back. Your first and last four-day patrol without her.

She'd followed you around like a puppy as you were prepping, making sure you'd gotten first pick at the gun range. Not before having a long sit-down chat with those who you were being sent off with about you and your safety, the consequences that would follow had you not come back up in one piece. She'd followed you all the way to the car, a not-so-quick kiss and a soft "Be safe mama," farewell.

After you'd gotten back - with nothing more than a few scratches - you were told Abby hadn't slept the last two days of the trip and that she'd been an absolute menace to Isaac and anyone who had their hands on a radio. She'd gotten kicked out of the gym for hogging the equipment on top of the situation which supposedly had sent her into even more of a nosedive.

No one really likes to bring it up though, her face erupting in a tomato-red flush whenever you did.

"I know, my love." You sigh, hand reaching up to rest on her head, following her braid down to the band, pulling it out and placing the elastic on the bedside table.

"We should go to bed." You whisper. And you really wanted to, to end the evening as you did any other night, wanted to feel the same you did then. Wanted to feel like yourself again. It was obvious how tired Abby was, her eyelids falling after every word you spoke, her own body weighing her down.

"M' not done." She drawls onto your skin, nipping at the fat of your thighs, her hands planted on your hips, fingers kneading. The thought of asking her to take care of you had crossed your mind, but you shook it off in fear of demanding too much of her.

"Abs, you'll be exhausted tomorrow." Your hand still rests on her head, twisting the strands you set free around your fingers, pulling them until they untwine.

"Need to make it up to you, please." She groans, looking up at you, she was wide awake now, that's for sure.

"You don't owe me anything." You croon.

It's so hard, trying to shut down such an immovable force, and the fact she knows you need her just as badly doesn't help. Your legs are essentially spread for her, her palms pushing you apart, pinching at the skin of your inner thigh. Yet, it’s still surprising when you feel her fingers graze over your clothed core, the small wet spot causing her to groan into your skin, your face felt like it was glowing. When the fuck did that happen.

“You always get drenched when you cry, sweetheart?” She laughs as her eyes find yours.

“Only when it’s cause of you, Abby.” You practically purr, taking your hands out of her scalp and leaning on them behind you. The familiar coil begins to thaw inside your stomach, her body heat radiating, passing onto you.

"You are depraved." Leaves her with a chuckle, thinking for a moment, reading your face.

"Take your shirt off." She scoffs, climbing up onto your lap, straddling you as your hands reach the hem of your top, swiping it off. Her hands go straight to your face, holding your cheeks together, lips smushing with the wet, sloppy kisses she’s pressing onto them.

Your hands instinctively go to the back pockets of her cargo pants, pulling her impossibly closer, her ass taut in the tight fabric. She leans forward, the force of it putting you onto your back with an oof, teeth clacking together, kissing Abby through her smile.

Her covered knee slots between your thighs, the curve of her pressing against your thinly veiled clit. The cave of her mouth vibrates with your moans as she rolls you onto her thigh, hands rough, but steady. Your fingertips underneath her shirt, running along her abs seems to ignite the same fire that's living inside of you, her breath hitching when you reach the small swell of her breasts, palming and grasping at her, wishing it was feasible to tear her open and create a cavity the size of you.

“Got - fuck - gotta get these off, kay?” She rambles, eyes scanning your boxers, hers, she's just shy of drooling, or combusting.

You whimper at the loss of contact, hips instinctively lifting up as her hands wrap around the waistband of the shorts, tugging them off and tossing them to the ground. It was never balanced with her, you lying on the mattress bare while she hadn't taken off a damn sock.

She’s still straddling you, farther down over your knees. Her pants are somehow unbuttoned and her shirt messily skewed to the side. You just really couldn't get over her hair, god, it's frizzy and crimped from her braid yet framing her face so perfectly, draping over the expanse of her shoulders, golden threads cascading down her back.

"Can yo-" You start, hands fumbling with the bottom of her top but before you can finish she's already pulling it over her shoulders, bra following. Abby's mouth is immediately back on yours, palms pressing into the mattress at the sides of your head.

You whine when she leaves you again, weight on her knees as her fingers go to the roots of your hair, grabbing your scalp and craning your head up off of the bed. Her other hand sits at your chin, palm up as she looks down at you. Can't help but notice the look in her eye, the look she does when Abby knows she's broken down any bit of modesty you would've scurried away with and kept for yourself if it weren't for her sitting on top of you.

"Spit.”

Obeying, drool and saliva drip down out of your mouth, onto your chin, and then to her hand. Strings of your spit link the two of you until she breaks the cord, her palm connecting with your mound, barely moving, just enough to saturate you with your own saliva. Finally, she shifts, her middle finger sliding up and down your folds, circling slowly around your clit. She wants you to watch, you realize, her hand still in your hair, still holding you up. So you do, as two fingers sink into your aching slit, disappearing with a moan from you, and something of the sort from her.

Her other hand leaves your head, causing it to hit the mattress and your eyes to squeeze shut from the impact. She's already curled her fingers, squelching them in and out of you, hitting the spot that you could never reach, that you didn’t really know existed before Abby.

"That feel good? Feel full?"

mhm a little too good, you think.

"Little slower, Abs." You whimper, knowing how prone she was to getting ahead of herself and how easily you were gonna come like this. Wanted to take your time with her, make her work for it for a change. She crawls in between your knees, spreading your legs over her hard thighs.

"Shit - sorry you're fuckin' soaked." She pants, her pace slowing.

With her middle and ring finger still hooked inside of you, her other hand rolls under your back, shifting you farther up the mattress. She sets a new tempo, slowly surging.

"Better?" She asks, thumb dipping inside of your cunt, drawing out the wet and smearing it over your clit.

"Yes, f-uck," You moan, back arching, hips bucking up dying to feel her deeper and deeper. Her free hand scoops your leg up and rests behind your knee as she pushes onto you, now hovering over your limp frame. Her hand leaves your leg as it lazily hangs near her waist, her arm now inches away from your face as she supports herself. You can't look at her, you really can't, so you throw your head to the side and breathe into her forearm, your own wrapping around it, hand gently squeezing her flexed bicep.

"Did so good today, m' so proud of you." She mewls, adding a third finger. It's definitely a tight squeeze, your walls clenching around her, rejecting the speed she desires. "Gotta relax, sweetheart, it's just me."

You nod, trying to release the built-up stress you've been carrying all day, remembering that she was here, she was yours. Remembering what she taught you, deep breaths into your nose and out through your mouth. Even though it ached, you didn't want her to stop.

You feel her fingers leave you, your lips parting on instinct. As you anticipated, her fingertips run along the tip of your tongue, following the muscle back, farther and farther.

"That's it, just like that. You're so good." She purrs, eyes on your mouth, your lips closing around her. Can feel her fingers fucking your face, her other hand playing with your clit in incomplete, sloppy circles. She gives a final jolt, and you can’t believe you don't gag, but you’ll pat yourself on the back later. They’re back within you without missing a beat, the lubrication your spit provides allowing her to have her way, her speed.

"So fuckin' pretty takin' me, wish you could see yourself, champ."

"I believe you." You beam, grabbing her face to plant a fat kiss on her lips, trailing past her mouth to her cheek. A quiet "Jesus, fuck," spills from your throat without a second thought after her thumb bumps your clit just right.

“Whose fingers are these, huh?” She groans at the sight of you, wrapped around her, inside of you. Gotta make it better she thinks, gotta make it go away.

“Mine.” You breathe, clenching around her. You believe it too, at this point, they were fucking yours. But how couldn't you? The fingers you'd trace as you fell asleep, just to then have dreams of. The same ones that'd roamed every inch of you, threatening to kiss your organs if she went any fucking deeper, god.

“That’s fuckin’ right. There’s my girl.” She praises, the sweet sound dripping all over you like a syrup, coating, sticking to every cell. Her lips practically live on your jawline, your head back to being tilted, giving her full access. She's moaning like she feels it too, and maybe she can with the way your bodies are just about conjoined. Your hand shoots down to her wrist, holding onto it as she pummels you. A shiver tickles its way down your spine.

“Right there, please, s’so fucking deep, oh my god,”

“You think I’d fuck anyone else like this?” Is whispered into your neck, a moan of your own echoing off the walls. Your puffy eyes fill with tears again, though this time it’s from sheer satisfaction, pure comfort.

You shake your head no, "Just me, Abs."

It feels so nice to reassure yourself, so right, the validation from her beaming through you and the molten coil in your core threatening to burn.

"Only you, pretty." She smiles, punctuated by the lick of your nipple, the popping of it in and out of her mouth, and of course, teeth sinking into the flesh. She had quite the obsession with your chest, grabbing them often just to have something warm to hold.

“Ow,” You blush, your legs relaxing, spreading and making space for her as she scoots down.

“Fucking slut, you love it when I bite you, can feel it.” Another chomp, this time on your stomach. A nibble on your thigh. It was mortifying how much of you she recognized. So much of yourself you never thought would be shared with anyone else that Abby did next to nothing to get out of you.

All you can do is moan, clench around her, repeat.

Your eyes are closed when her tongue meets your core, moans being replaced with groans, her hand that was used to support herself now supporting you, wrapping around your thigh that's threatening to squish her head like a melon.

“Keep ‘em open, doll, you got it.” She breathes onto you, her arm realistically doing all the work.

“Abby, m’gonnacome,” You’re nodding, slowly, building up the courage to look at her, meeting her eyes as you do to find she’d been looking at you the whole time. "Please?" She mumbles into your cunt, sucking your clit inside of her mouth.

“God, please yes, fuck yes,” The rubber band finally snaps, your hands going to her scalp, to your thighs, grabbing, pulling. One of them settles on her hand on your thigh, which she grabs, holding you through your orgasm.

Your hips are grinding against her face and you use your leverage on her head to pull her off of you, quickly getting overstimulated. Abby’s got her pussy-drunk smile, eyes turning to slits from happiness being paired with exhaustion. She kisses the inside of your thigh, one last peck on your swollen bud before her fingers reappear, glimmering with you.

"Mmm, you gotta pee, sweetheart." Is all she says before she collapses onto her side on the mattress, a small huff following. You're still catching your breath, feeling your rapid heartbeat slug to its typical pace. She definitely wasn't asleep, but she sure as shit wasn't conscious.

"Baby, your pants." You heave.

Abby grumbles, fingers fumbling with her zipper.

"I'm gonna get you some water, don't move." You insist, feeling your body snap back together as you stand up, only slightly seeing stars. In the kitchen, you wet a rag for her and clean yourself up with one while you're there, before grabbing a couple of cups.

"Gonna show me what you got?" You speak up to reach the room, two glasses of water in hand as your bare feet shuffle along the hardwood floor. At the lack of response, you pick up your strides toward the bedroom. It was so quiet at this point in the night - or early morning. Hard to tell. So peaceful.

"Abs?"

As you peek your head into the doorway you're met with her, sprawled out on her stomach, naked, and softly snoring.

[eddiediaaz]

Hey!! I just wanted to say that your recent speak now gif set is sooo stunning. I was wondering how you managed to create that cassette tape effect if it isn’t any trouble? It’s really so pretty.

Have a great day! ✨

ahhh thank you so so much! first of all, i cannot take any credit for this effect, as it was greatly inspired by this amazing yellowjacket gifset by @thewintersoldier!!

but here's how i recreated the effect, from a cassette png (found on pngwing here), to this animated cassette effect (as seen in my speak now set):

psst: i usually always create in photoshop cs5, but for this effect you need a recent version of photoshop because it's using transform keyframes (i think cs5 doesn't let you do that, or i just don't know how to lol). i used cc 2019 for this.

sorry if this is lengthy or has too much or too little details haha, but i hope it's comprehensible! english is not my first language so i also apologize in advance for any mistakes!

I. PREPARING THE CASSETTE

so, starting with the png here:

i removing everything i didn't want on the cassette png with the brush tool by just drawing the right color over the unwanted text. for the color, i then went to image > adjustments > hue/saturation and in the red tab, i played with the hue slider to get that purple color. finally, i added some text to my liking, and this is what i ended up with:

(not necessary but: i also selected the white lines on each side with the magic wand tool because i wanted these lines to be transparent. once your selection is done, go right click > layer via cut. it will create a new layer of the cutout you just made. you just need to disable or delete the layer to make the selection (lines) transparent.)

at this point you want to have only 2 layers: the revamped cassette and the text layer. you can remove the text layer actually, and just add the title back at the end, as it is not necessary for this effect. i just like to have the visual.

if you have multiple layers, you need to select all of them (except the song title layer), right click on the png layer and click on merge layers. this will create one layer with all the editing you made on the cassette. if you think you will need to edit this later though, i would save the file as a psd before merging the layers.

II. THE EFFECT

okay, so now that you have your cassette, make sure your video timeline is activated, not frame animation, and you are ready to go.

first, you want to create a perfect circle shape around one of the reel with the elliptical marquee tool (hold shift while dragging the circle). make sure it covers the entire area that will later be rotated. make sure this circle is perfectly centered around the reel or otherwise the animation will be a bit lopsided.

then right click on this selection and go "layer via copy". this will create a layer of only that circle selection. important step: right click on that new layer and go "convert to smart object". the layer should look like that, i've renamed mine:

now if you go to your timeline and open that new smart object layer, you will see that you have 3 keyframe options. we only need the transform one.

go to the start of the timeline and activate the transform animation by clicking on the stopwatch button. a keyframe will be created automatically.

to create the actual animation, move the position of the cursor on the timeline further, i put mine at the 01:00f mark so it's easier to create the right timing.

then what you want to do is select the reel smart object layer and hit ctrl + T. a box will appear and this is how you will make the reel rotate.

to rotate the reel shape, move your cursor near the blue box on your canvas and drag it until you have rotated the shape halfway through and hit enter. another keyframe will be created and if you play your animation, the reel should rotate on itself for half a turn

move your position on the timeline to 02:00f and do the same thing: select the left reel smart object, hit ctrl + T, rotate for another half turn, and hit enter. this third keyframe should be the last one needed for the animation and you should have a full animated rotation of the reel.

play your animation, and adjust the speed to your liking by dragging the keyframes on the timeline (but make sure they stay within the same distance from each other). the closer the keyframes are, the faster the animation are, and the further they are, the slower it'll be.

then you can just trim the smart object to your animation's length, and duplicate (right click the smart object > duplicate layer) this layer the amount of times needed (i find this less finicky than duplicating keyframes), and placing them one after the other. three full turns should be enough. this is what my timeline looks like right now:

and my animation for the left side looks like this:

as you can see, we can see the little "dents" peeking through behind the animation. we don't want that! to remove it, select the revamped cassette layer (that should be under the reel smart object), and create another perfect circle around it with the marquee tool. this time make sure it's smaller than the previous one, it just needs to cover these dents.

then right click on this selection on your canvas and go "layer via cut". this will create a new layer with that selection, and all you need to do is to disable it. this is removing the information in that circle.

once you are happy and the animation works, you can just delete that cut layer. now the animation is done and looks like this:

III. SECOND ANIMATION

one you have done it on the left side, you just gotta do the same thing on the right side. you can also try duplicating it, but i found it finicky for some reason (or maybe i'm just not used to the controls of this 2019 photoshop version?).

this is what i have once i've done the same thing on the right reel:

once i am happy with the speed and everything, i want to have only one layer so it's easier to use on gifs. first, i will save this animation as a psd file, in case i want to reuse it. then i am removing the song title layer and will be flattening everything and creating frames from this animation. to do so i am using the "save" action from here.

i'm not sure why it does that, but it's creating a couple of frames where the reels are a bit offset from their position everytime there's a full circle done, so i just delete these 5-6 frames. you can also change the speed here, but by default it should be 0.05.

once you are happy with it, just turn these frames into a smart object with the video timeline again (convert frame animation to video timeline and select all the frame layers > right click > convert to smart object)

now you have a smart object that is ready to be used anywhere!

IV. FINAL TOUCHES

for my particular speak now gifset, i have multiple layers of the animated cassette on each gif:

1, bottom one - cassette layer set to the blending mode "hard light" and set to opacity 86%:

2, middle - this same cassette layer set to hard light, but with the opacity at 100%, AND with a layer mask so it's only applied to the animated reels (i wanted them to show up more):

3, top one - and finally a third layer with another layer mask because i wanted the white label and speak now area to be less see through. it's set to the normal blending mode and the opacity is at 75%

and then i just added the song title on top at 100% opacity and normal blending mode, and added some drop shadows, and tada!

there we have it, i hope this was helpful <3

[xileonaaaa]

HAIIIIII :3 ‼️ could you write some hcs abt ino takuma x f!reader :D plsss ??

that’d be much appreciated, ty <3

Aweeee I love the pic so much. 💕 (I got carried away, but I hope you enjoy.)

Thinking of Ino who meets you during a trip to Nanami’s favorite bakery…

✦•┈┈┈┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑ ┈┈┈┈•✦

──★ ˙

Ino!Takuma who’s the type of guy who swears up and down that he’ll never get into a relationship because how stressful it seems. (He watched too many of those depressing, heartbroken Instagram reels.)

Ino!Takuma whose the type of guy that genuinely appreciates all forms of beauty, he isn’t picky at all. If a person happens to look good, he isn’t afraid to walk up to them, and compliment them.

Ino!Takuma who literally felt like a totally different person when he noticed your presence. The over confident, and usually social guy actually found himself shying away from the bakery’s main window as he caught a glimpse of you peering in at the pastries from the outside. (You were beyond gorgeous, and he couldn’t help but gawk at the sight of your curious form gazing around the transparent glass.)

Ino!Takuma who quickly looked away when he met your gaze for the first time, his face radiating with heat as he shoved his beanie down over his forehead, and fumbled for his phone to use as a distraction.

Ino!Takuma who found himself desperately wanting to sink back into his own skin the moment he heard the door chime jingle as it opened.

Ino!Takuma who watched you peer around at the different pastries on display, obviously wanting to get a closer look at the ones you couldn’t see very well from outside.

Ino!Takuma who didn’t even hear the poor baker that was working the register, call his name saying that Nanami’s order was ready for pickup. (She had to say ‘Excuse me sir’ like four times.)

Ino!Takuma who quickly tore his eyes away from you once he realized that the lady was calling for him. He apologized profusely, and couldn’t help but chuckle and rub at his nape, as the woman gave him an all knowing smile.

Ino!Takuma who dismissed the unspoken accusations, just telling her that he only thought you were pretty, but didn’t want to bother you.

Ino!Takuma who waved the clerk a polite goodbye, before hastily turning around and running straight into you.

Ino!Takuma who was obviously stunned at the sudden interaction, but thankfully didn’t freeze, and was able to catch you in time with one arm before you fell.

Ino!Takuma who helped you gain your balance before hastily apologizing, and asking if you were okay. He was shocked the first time he ever heard your voice, all light hearted as you let a small laugh escape your lips. (He thought you were gonna curse at him to watch where he was going or something. Why? He doesn’t even know himself.)

Ino!Takuma who shared a laugh with you, as you murmured something about how his move to save you from falling mimicked something straight out of a Disney movie.

Ino!Takuma who felt a little bummed when your interaction was cut short by a phone call from Nanami asking where he was, and what was taking him so long.

Ino!Takuma who gave you a nervous smile, before waving goodbye, and darting out of that small bakery. (He knows it was a wuss move to use Nanami’s call as an excuse to get away, but what could he do? He wasn’t feeling like his normal, chill self, instead he felt all nervous, and anxious. How strange.)

Ino!Takuma who spent the entire week thinking about the pretty girl he’d met at the small bakery that Nanami usually frequented. He’d been thinking about going back there for the longest, but he felt like he never really had a proper excuse to. (Nanami was back on schedule, so he didn’t need Ino to pick up his lunch for him.)

Ino!Takuma who mustered up the courage to drop by the bakery without an order from Nanami to pick up. It’d been two weeks since he’d last been there, and when he walked in, he was surprised to see you nestled up by a front window, typing away at your computer.

Ino!Takuma who’d spent the better half of an hour in his car, hyping himself up, and running through possible conversation dialogues, found himself at a complete, and utterly loss after he’d told the clerk that he wasn’t here to pick up Nanami’s usual.

Ino!Takuma who nearly leapt out of his skin when he heard your smooth, tired voice echo from behind him, as he saw your hand scoot your empty coffee cup towards the clerk.

Ino!Takuma who stole a glance at you, as you waited for your refill. He wondered if you still remembered him, just as vividly as he remembered you. (He got his answer when you teased him about not bumping into you again, because this time you had coffee.)

Ino!Takuma who stuttered for the very first time since 2nd grade, as he quietly asked for a recommendation from you.

Ino!Takuma who turned to face you, as he observed your facial expressions while you pondered. (You spilled out a few pastries that were your personal favorites, and he repeated everything to the clerk, claiming that he wanted to try them all to broaden his palate.)

Ino!Takuma who found that conversing with you wasn’t as hard as it seemed, and you even invited him back to sit at your table. (He was so nervous, but he agreed, and the two of you talked for hours, all while he tried out the pastries you’d recommended to him. The conversation ranging from Anime, to your job, and other interests.)

Ino!Takuma who walked you out to your car when it was time for you to go. (He really didn’t want to part ways, and you somehow caught on to his dejected aura. After bidding you a goodnight, he turned to walk away, but you called out to him, and told him that you were always in this bakery, and if he stopped by, maybe the two of you could hang out like this again. He agreed almost immediately.)

Ino!Takuma who took you up on your offer, and visited that bakery every single day, just to talk to you. (The more he conversed with you, the more open, and overall relaxed he became.)

Ino!Takuma who established a good relationship with you, even going so far as to calling you his “bakery buddy”.

Ino!Takuma who happened to walk into the small bakery a bit earlier than he usually did, one particular morning, and caught sight of some guy and his friends trying to get your number.

Ino!Takuma whose initial reaction was to freeze by the door, and just watch the whole thing go down, found himself feeling a bit nervous. (Not because of the guys of course, he was just worried that you’d actually take them up on their offer to exchange contacts. After all, they were good looking, all of them had on stuff that was more expensive than the custom rims he liked to buy for his car. They literally outclassed him in every possible way.)

Ino!Takuma who released the biggest sigh of relief when he heard you politely turn them down, and return your focus back to your computer. (He’d never seen you act so coldly, and he wondered if you despised those types of stuck up guys.)

Ino!Takuma who felt his eye twitch in anger as he heard one of them murmur a slur under his breath, and another call you a bitch.

Ino!Takuma who had to hold his own self back as he nearly swung a punch towards one of the guys who was talking the most smack. He had to keep reminding himself that it wasn’t exactly his place to do that. (He wasn’t your boyfriend or anything, so all he could afford to do was stare them down as they squeezed past him to leave out the bakery door with a look that could kill.

Ino!Takuma who followed them with his eyes until they were completely out of sight, before deciding to finally walk up to the counter to order his usual. (He was so pissed, he didn’t even notice that you were watching him. It was only when he got his chocolate filled croissant and a cup of coffee, that he finally turned around, and saw you gawking at him.)

Ino!Takuma whose demeanor immediately switched as he flashed you a nervous grin before walking over to your usual table. Your eyes never left him, and Ino could feel little bits of perspiration dripping down his back. (He didn’t have to be a genius to know that you’d seen his whole mood switch just seconds ago.)

Ino!Takuma who kept telling himself to let his angered and annoyed feelings go, but just couldn’t.

Ino!Takuma who, as much as he wanted to enjoy your teasing about his strange behavior, he found that the more the conversation dragged on about those guys, the angrier he got by the second.

Ino!Takuma who felt his initial anger completely melt into that of pure shock when he heard what you asked him next. (“If you’re so angry about those guys hitting on me, why not do something about it? Yknow, to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”)

Ino!Takuma who literally stared at you like his brain short-circuited or something. (It literally did.)

Ino!Takuma who stuttered for the second time since 2nd grade, horribly stumbling over his words as he tried his best to ask you out on a date. (You chuckled at his flustered state, and happily said yes.)

Ino!Takuma who couldn’t help but dwell in his own embarrassment the moment he got back to his car, dragging his beanie down over his eyes, and groaning into his hands. (He’d made sure to walk you to your car, and nearly sprinted away the moment you said goodnight. He didn’t understand how you were able to keep your cool so well. Why was he the one always left so flustered after every interaction. Everything you did just seemed so effortless to him.)

Ino!Takuma who had to give himself a pep talk the next day to even be able to get out his car. (He’d been sitting there in the bakery’s parking lot for the past 20 minutes, trying to work up the confidence to talk to you again. He’d embarrassed himself so badly yesterday.)

Ino!Takuma who finally entered through the bakery’s doors, to find you already looking over at him. (He was so tempted to turn around and leave, because damn you were so pretty.)

Ino!Takuma who didn’t even bother going up to the register to order his usual. Instead, he bidded you a good morning, before plopping down in his usual seat. Unlike what he was so worried about, conversation between the two of you sparked up almost immediately, and he completely forgot about his initial embarrassment.

Ino!Takuma who spent the entire day with you in that bakery, just like he always did. Admiring you, as you talked a little bit about anything and everything.

Ino!Takuma who walked you to your car like always, but stopped you when you were about to get in.

Ino!Takuma who whipped out his phone, and timidly asked for your number. (As you were typing it in, he just would not shut up about why he needed your number. Rambling on and on, about the most random things, until you handed his phone back, pressing it into his chest.)

Ino!Takuma who shut up immediately, before bidding you goodnight, and walking off in the direction of his car. (What you couldn’t see was the enormous blush that spread all the way to the tips of his ears.)

Ino!Takuma who texted you first, telling you who he was. (He forgot you saved his number.)

Ino!Takuma who set up a date with you, not once mentioning where the two of you were going. (He sucked at planning, and had to ask Nanami to help him.)

Ino!Takuma who anxiously awaited the day of your scheduled meeting time, pulling up to your place almost a whole hour early.

Ino!Takuma who nearly gawked at your outfit, when you finally emerged from your front door.

Ino!Takuma who jumped out of the drivers seat, to jog over to open the passenger door for you.

Ino!Takuma whose first date was the skating rink. (He was a pro at skating, and even though you sucked pure ass, he was always by your side, effortlessly picking you up, and making sure that you never once fell, not hard at least.)

Ino!Takuma who then took you out to eat some delicious food. (He was not one for fancy restaurants, as unlike Nanami, he loved greasy food.)

Ino!Takuma who then took you out to one of his favorite spots on the beach, so you could relax your sore feet in the warm, wet sand.

Ino!Takuma who was elated when you said yes to another date, and immediately got to work on planning another outing with you.

Ino!Takuma who was always a joy, and a breath of fresh air to be with. He wasn’t all uptight, and sophisticated, nor was he a lazy bum. He was perfect, and it wasn’t very surprising when you didn’t even let him finish his sentence when he asked you be his girlfriend.

Ino!Takuma who then started driving over to your place to hang out, bringing along your usual coffee and pastries from the bakery with him.

Ino!Takuma who’s favorite pastime was bickering with you about who was the strongest anime character in history, and who could beat who in a fight with no powers.

Ino!Takuma who’d call you whenever he missed you, always telling you that he loved you. (He literally sounds like beast boy from teen titans whenever you answer. Always saying, “Hey Mama!” The moment he hears your beautiful voice.)

Ino!Takuma who’s a complete softie, and unlike how he was before the two of you started dating, he’s very direct about how he feels.)

Ino!Takuma who really loves you with everything he’s got, and has completely changed his view on relationships.

[purplekiwis]

Summary: It's no secret that as a figure skater, you're fed up with the local hockey team being treated like royalty... and your ex's status as a player isn't helping much either.

Genre: Exes to Lovers (Enemies to Lovers if you blink 😉)

Warnings: it's angsty and smutty

Wordcount: 8K

A/N: i'd like to thank @sucker4angstt for requesting this concept! it was a blast to work on and i hope you guys have as much fun reading it as i had writing it 🤍

THIS IS A 2 PART SERIES | PART 2 IS HERE ❄️

OTHER WORKS BY ME

“You wanna do black again? Didn’t we do that last time?” Niall inquired as he switched off the car’s ignition.

You had just shown him a dress you had found the night before in hopes he would like it, but as you had already been expecting, he claimed black was boring and wouldn't stand out among the competition. “Well, yes but this one’s a different style from the last one. It would go well with our song.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to try something new sometimes, you know? Like white or blue… perhaps even red?” He suggested as he removed both your skating bags from the trunk and placed them down by his feet.

You hid a sigh while you took your bag from him. It never got easier to admit that you had to consider the price before picking the costume. For whatever reason, there was always a hint of embarrassment associated to that admission. Needless to say you would also prefer to wear a bright colored outfit with lots of glitter and transparencies, but those were simply out of reach for your budget.

“We did red once already, that time we did Moulin Rouge.” You reminded him as you walked side by side, each of you steering your own carryon.

“Hm, that’s true. I’d forgotten about that.”

You hadn’t been lucky enough to land a parking spot right at the front of the sports centre that morning, which sucked big time given how chilly it was outside. Getting up early for practice was never fun, but during the winter months it got almost unbearable. Especially when the sky was all hazy and mostly black by the time you woke up.

“How would you feel about like, a nude?” You proposed, despite the fact that you weren't really fond of the color.

“From you?” Niall sniggered. “Thanks but I think I’ll have to pass.”

“Come on, can't you be serious for like 2 seconds? This is important.” You huffed, pretending like you hadn’t found his little joke amusing. “Also, um... I know this is probably like super annoying for you but my budget’s kinda tight right now, so if you’d be willing to repeat one of our previous outfits, that would be awesome.”

Niall laughed a bit. “Stop with that nonsense, will you? It's not annoying and of course I don't mind. Sides, it's not like it'll even matter what we wear. We'll do so well that the judges won't even think to pay attention to our outfits.” He then turned to you and stated, “...That being said, I still don't want to wear black again.”

“Aff, fine.” You grumbled. “Which one do you want to wear then?”

“Hm.. I dunno, actually.” He took a moment to reflect. “How about we just start naming them until we find one we both agree on?”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually.”

“Ready?” He asked, you nodded. “1, 2, 3…”

“Pink.”

“Turquoise.”

“Navy.”

“Green”

“Orange.” You said it in unison, but your faces immediately turned down in distaste after. “Nevermind the orange. I still don't know what we were thinking when we picked those.”

“Yeah, me neither.” You admitted through a deep breath in. “I’d be fine with the green though, as long as it's the dark one.”

“Make it the medium dark, and it’s settled.”

You reached an agreement right as you were approaching the entrance of the sports centre, where some figure skaters you had grown familiar with over the years were gathering. Surprisingly, neither unpacking nor warming up.

“Are you guys all done already?” You asked them as you dashed towards your usual warm-up area. It was spacious and had a canopy that kept you dry in case it rained. “I didn’t realize we were late...” You earned Niall's judgmental stare with your sentence. He had been rushing you all morning, but you were sure you weren't that late. As far as your calculations were concerned, you were just in time for your first warm-up.

In days like these, it was always very tempting to skimp on the off the ice warm-ups and go straight to the rink, but with the championship right around the corner, neither you nor Niall would take that risk. Because although you also competed individually, it was as a pair that you really stood out. Your journey to nationals depended on you both, and you weren't going to jeopardize all that for being too lazy to stretch.

“Don’t bother starting.” One of the skaters, Natalia, intervened when she realized what the two of you were up to. “The Emperors booked early morning.” She clarified, upon noticing your perplexed looks.

“They did what-” You gasped, all the more startled.

“They can’t do that.” Niall said after you, and the look on his face was as distressed as yours. “They already take up most of the rink’s time!”

“When their stupid coach came we tried to tell him that, but he refused to listen. He didn't even pause- just walked straight through as if we weren't here.” The new skater jumped into the conversation. You hadn't officially met her yet, but you knew her name was Mei, a.k.a the girl Niall had been crushing on for weeks.

Redness engulfed his cheeks as soon as she looked his way, but he still managed to respond, albeit stutteringly. “Yeah, I'm not too surprised… Y/N’s ex plays on the team and he always used to say the guy was a moron.” You pointed out Niall’s oversharing by flashing him a chastising look, but he was too engrossed in Mei's beauty to notice your death stare.

You cleared your throat, now feeling a touch hot in the face too, before turning to the remainder of the group, “Have you spoken to couch Jo or Paul? Aren't they supposed to come teach the kids right after we leave?”

“Yeah.” Natalia sighed. “Apparently they’ve had to rescheduled some of the skating classes but nothing much. Basically it's fine for everyone but us.”

“So what time can we come now?” The Emperors could have taken your place, but surely they had to have left a gap somewhere.

“That’s the thing.” Mei explained. “There’s no time apart from the lessons we have with our coaches. A spot is available in the afternoon, but that's just not feasible for anyone.”

“What? No! How’s that even allowed?” Your question was hardly noticed by the other skaters as they were preparing to leave. "Wait- Where are all of you off to? We can’t just leave; have to solve this.”

“What do you propose we do, then?” Mei groaned. She was clearly on edge, as was everyone else in the group. “We’ve already tried. We won't get to solve anything right now, so staying here is a waste of time.” She grabbed her skating bag off the floor. “You can still try if you want, though. Didn’t you used to mess around with one of them? Maybe he could help.”

You scoffed as you watched Mei leave with the rest of the group, “Unbelievable...” You commented with Niall, only to find him looking at you like he agreed with her. "Oh no, not you siding with her. Are you kidding me?”

“I mean, she’s got a point…” As he went on, a goofy smile spread over his face. “I can't believe she actually spoke to me. This is crazy... and she’s even hotter up close…” Rolling your eyes, you started gathering both your bags in a tacit plea to leave. “Please, Y/N... can you go talk to him? I don't wanna stop seeing her now that she's speaking to us.”

You took a long, deep breath.

You really weren't in the mood to do all that, but unfortunately your ex happened to play team captain for the hockey team... so perhaps, if you could flip the tables and get him to be on your side, there was a small possibility his opinion could give you some advantage when it came to straightening everything out.

That was what you needed to remind yourself of.

There was a deeper purpose to this than Niall's desire to speak with Mei. It was important for everyone. None of you could afford to miss practice now that the championship was about to start. The time you spent practicing with your instructors was good but having time to skate freely every morning was critical.

“Fine. I'll go, but you’re coming with me.”

You had wanted Niall to come along for the emotional support, but that idea was quickly scrapped once the centre’s receptionist, who was acting a lot more standoffish than usual, refused to let you walk past the front desk.

It occurred to you that his behavior might have something to do with how Mei and the rest of the skaters handled that morning’s dreadful news. If that was the case, his mood was about to get worse because you were planning to bring up the issue as well… until Niall stepped in, “Oh, we're not here to skate. We’re here because my friend thinks she dropped her bracelet on her way out of the rink yesterday. We just wanted to see if we can find it.”

“I have orders not to let anyone in right now. If you want, you can come by after eight to look for it.” He answered monotonously, his gaze fixed on the computer screen.

“Ah, we have school at eight; we can't come at that time I'm afraid.” Niall’s revelation elicited no response. So, after a moment of awkward stares, you continued,

“If we don't go now, someone else might find and keep it.” The man’s expression told you that he thought you were being a nuisance, but you kept playing by Niall’s script and added, “The bracelet was a gift from my mother. It has a lot of sentimental value...”

Finally, just as you were beginning to lose hope, he sighed and said, “If it's just the bracelet you're looking for I'll let you go find it, but he stays.” His head motion indicated that he was referring to Niall.

“I’m sure it would be easier if we searched together...”

The man sat back with a sigh. “Look, it’s nothing personal. I'm simply doing what I've been told by one of the coaches after he got harassed by your little squad at the door… which is not to let anyone in the rink while the boys are there. I'm already making an exception for you when I shouldn't, so it’s either this or you'll come back later.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I hadn’t been informed that the hockey coaches were now in charge of the place...” He ignored your provocation, but his gaze was drawn to the agitated tapping of your nails on the counter. “You know what, it's fine. I get it. I’ll be quick, oh- and don't worry, I'll be careful not to harass the local royalty while I’m there.”

You didn’t stick around for further verbal cues, just swiped your membership card, walked past the barrier and turned toward the rink. It was only after you got there that you realized how angry you were. Knowing that the hockey team was being treated like kings and given the freedom to do whatever and however they pleased with zero regard for anyone else was one of the most infuriating things you'd ever witnessed. It wasn't exactly surprising taken they always got prioritized for being the bigger sport, but they had never taken things this far before. This situation was ridiculous, and you weren't going to tolerate it.

So although you agreed to come speak with your ex, now you were actually hoping to speak directly with the coach instead. Maybe your efforts were in vain, but you had to, at least, try to get your point across. There was only one problem - he was nowhere to be found, and you didn’t know anyone else on the team well enough to ask on his whereabouts.

Speaking of the team, the guys were dressed in practice gear, which was far more basic than their game jersey’s, but still had the same colors of red and gold. You assumed they hadn't started properly training yet, as they were still warming up with crossovers and pivots.

Among the many broad-shouldered athletes there, your eyes were immediately drawn to the player whose number you knew best: 77.

Not that you’d ever need a number to identify him.

Even with hockey armor covering his frame, you knew his body’s contours like the back of your hand. Picturing the tousled curls hidden under his helmet, the green of his eyes, and the curvature of his lips was easy. A little too easy.

“Styles,”

He turned when he heard your voice. His eyes were obscured by the visor, but you could swear you saw his brows quirk. “Y/N,” He didn't look too surprised by your presence. In fact, he looked more amused at you yelling his name than at you being there.

After a few seconds of skating by he came closer, and as he stopped next to the board, his skates scratched the ice a little too harshly for someone who wasn't aiming to make a spectacle of himself. You weren't wowed by his effort. You could execute that same slide better and with greater polish if you wanted to.

“Where’s your coach? I’d like to have a word…”

He signaled the rooms on the top level with his head. “Up there in a meeting. Why, what do you want from him?”

“Not that it's any of your business but it looks like there’s an issue with the rink’s scheduling.”

You saw the grin he was trying to hide. “Oh, what’s that?”

“The skaters had it for 6am, as usual.” You attempted to highlight. “Ergo, you shouldn't be here.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes, we did.”

“I don't think we would be here if you had booked it, would we? If we took the spot, it was because it was available.”

“Well yeah, because we’ve never had to book it - because we had a spoken agreement and we’ve always followed through on it.” He didn't respond, nor did he appear very willing to engage in the conversation you were trying to have. “Are you listening to me?”

“I am,” His voice felt harsh and didn't quite fit the easy stance he showed as he shrugged. “I'm just not sure of what you want me to say – I’m sorry? Does that make you feel any better?”

His cynical tone didn't sit well in your stomach, but your face didn’t let that show. “Okay, look - I get it. You’re in the league and you need to practice, but that doesn’t give you the right to take early mornings from us. It's only two hours out of the entire day, couldn't you just let us keep them?”

He appeared somewhat bored by your approach, but not completely. His facial expression had an edge to it. He was irritated. “It wasn’t me who made the call. If you want to lash out at someone, try the guy at the front-desk or whatever. I can't help you.”

He was really starting to piss you off, but worse than that, there was a part of you that was getting legitimately hurt by his indifference. He used to be one of your biggest supporters, and now it was like he simply didn't care. “Even if it wasn't you who made the decision, you knew better than anybody that this would disrupt our practice and you still didn't say anything.”

“Why would I? Wasn't it you who just said it's none of my business? If you have an issue, it’s your place to handle it - not mine.”

“Harry, your stupid team already takes up most of the rink’s time! Our qualifying season starts in two weeks, we need to practice.”

“Well, I'm not sure if the news has reached your self-centered little world yet but our season has already started, and we have big games coming up. So sorry to break it to you but we're going to take all the extra rink time we can get.”

“Not unless I can’t do something about it.” Your implied threat was meaningless. You had no plan whatsoever... apart from the original one to get on Harry’s good side, which had just been blown. You'd figure something out though, anything to ensure they wouldn't get their way. “You’ll have to go through me first.”

He got closer, coming right up to your face as he leaned over the border and uttered one last, quiet “Gladly,” before skating away to rejoin his team.

The bleachers were packed by screaming fans in replica shirts. 

The big day had come. The Emperors were playing their first home game of the season and as the concentration of bodies suggested, a considerable portion of people had come out to witness it firsthand… including you and Niall.

After what the fuckers had done to you, you almost felt like a traitor for showing up to their game. However, you had purchased tickets weeks ago and since you had spent the money, you figured you might as well come and root for them to lose. That worked for a while, until they actually started losing.

As soon as the visiting team scored a goal, it became impossible to disguise who your heart was really rooting for. The Emperors were jackasses, that was beyond dispute, but they were the local team and it was hard to cheer for strangers when the other players were people you had “known” for years.

“You haven’t touched your pretzel…”

Niall's comment drew your gaze away from the game for a millisecond. “I don’t want it right now, I’m not hungry.” Your reply came out garbled due to the way your cheeks were getting smothered between your hands.

“It’s gonna go cold if you don’t eat it now...”

“You’re right. Here- you can have it.”

“You sure?” His hesitant smile expanded when he heard a fragmented “Yes” fall from your mouth. The “Thanks,” that followed was mumbled around a large bite. “Oh man, this is nothing like the hot dogs they sell here.” He chewed as he spoke, “Have you ever had one? They always put sauerkraut on them and it’s like, who even likes sauerkraut that much, you know what I mean?”

“Mhm,” you hummed again, eyes fixed on the local team captain and the player battling him for the puck. "Get off his ass, shithead." you blurted as another player floated over and pushed him against the board. It was the same player who kept harassing him throughout the first two frames of the game. There had already been insults, menacing stares, and provoking shoves exchanged. This wasn’t going to end well.

“You know you don’t have to do that anymore, don’t you?” Niall asked after a lengthy pause in conversation, what caught you off guard.

“Don’t have to do what? Eat sauerkraut?” You questioned back, a little confused.

“Get nervous for the games.” He clarified, which sort of took you by surprise. You weren't aware that your feelings were showing that clearly. “Since, you know…  you and Styles aren’t a thing anymore and all. You don’t have to get all anxious over him.”

Your focus immediately diverted from the rink as a result of Niall’s remark. “This isn’t about him, Niall. It’s about the game- I want us to win.”

“Uh huh… because of your deep love for hockey, I assume.” His face lit up with laughter. “Not any of the players in particular, just the sport itself.”

“Shut up- Oh, that son of a... oh, great! Now he's starting a fight...” You muttered inwardly once you saw Harry's gloves hit the ice first, followed by the other player's.

The initial strikes to the head sent the helmets flying. Thereafter, it was all direct blows. The two boys faced each other angrily as they dodged and struck each other with bare hands and faces. The crowd roared loudly as the violence between the two players increased. “God, I hate when they fight.” You admitted, despite it being nothing new. “Why does it always take the referees so long to split them?”

“Ah, well, you know that's how the game works. The crowd loves it.”

“No, I know that but… it’s barbaric.”

The other player’s left hand was gripping Harry's jersey as if he was going to rip it apart, while the right continued to strike jabs in his stomach. But Harry didn't cut loose; he whacked him with the same force. They both went down, and just like that there was blood on the ice. A laceration over Harry's eyebrow had resulted in what looked like a crimson mask covering his face, most likely caused by his helmet’s visor as it leapt out of his head.

As the boys hit the floor the referees finally intervened and broke up the fight.

But the two were back on the ice as if nothing had happened after spending five minutes in the penalty box. Harry’s cut was no longer bleeding, but the bloodied towel he left behind served as a solid memento.

“I swear my Nan is more flexible than you.” You teased Niall as he tried to strike the mermaid pose. He was struggling, so his tongue was sticking out.

“You can't compare your Nan's yoga to mine. She's been doing it for longer than I've been alive!” He grumbled as he attempted to move his elbow to the proper position by imitating your posture. “I’ll have you know though, that I've never had any complaints on my flexibility before. In fact, it’s what I usually get the most compliments on aside from my-”

“Shhhh.” You were shushed by the yoga instructor for speaking over the soothing music.

You had never taken a yoga class before but considering your time on the rink had been compromised, you figured it might be a good idea to give it a shot since it still allowed you to practice your balance and flexibility.

You'd gotten cocky and chosen advanced yoga, assuming it wouldn't be too difficult to keep up given your figure skating background. Big, big mistake. You were living it up at first… however, as the class progressed and poses like 'the crow' and 'the flying pigeon' began to appear, you found yourselves admiring everyone rather than trying to keep up.

As a result, you were only doing the same five poses over and over, which got boring really quick. Besides, you weren’t even mastering the intermediate ones...  as Niall was struggling with flexibility, while you were having trouble with all the arm strength exercises. That was when you started to get chatty, even though you were well aware that it wasn't appropriate.

You'd already been told to be quiet twice, so when your phone went off in the middle of class you didn't hesitate to roll up your mats and leave, figuring you had already caused enough disturbance.

“We'll never be allowed back there again...” Niall remarked on the way to the locker rooms. “Did you see how she looked at us when your phone rang? That wasn’t very Yin and Yang of her…”

“Well… to be fair, we were being incredibly rude...” You checked your phone for the notification you had received during class. “Speaking of rude, you won't believe who was texting me just now…”

“Who?” He realized who you were referring to when you made a face and pointed your head toward the rink. The yoga classes were held in the same section, the one dedicated to indoor sports. Despite being on opposite ends, you knew the hockey team was there because you had passed by and heard them. “No way... are you serious? What did he say? Does it have anything to do with the rink?”

“He didn't say... just asked if I could meet him at that cafe we used to go to after class. He says it’s urgent.”

“Do you need a ride? I can drop you off on the way back from class; it's close by.”

“No, don't worry. I end class earlier than you today, so I can take the shuttle like I used to.” You were guessing Harry had remembered you had a similar school schedule on Fridays, which is why he didn't bother telling you a time. He knew you would be there by 3pm... supposedly. “I don’t know if I’m going, though… I don’t know what he wants.”

“Yes you are.” Niall asserted, as if the idea of you not going was the most insane thing ever. “What if it’s something to do the rink?”

“What if it’s nothing to do with the rink?”

“No, come on… it has to have something to do with it.” He insisted. “I know you want to go; you're just nervous about seeing him.”

“No, the only reason why I am nervous is because he isn’t telling me what he wants. It's weird.”

Niall paused for a moment as you reached the door for the women’s locker rooms. His face let you know he was debating whether or not to tell you what was on his mind. He decided to do so. “It's obviously up to you whether you go or not, but if I were you I’d go just to see what he wants. You don't have to sit there all afternoon if you don't want to... and if things get too awkward, you can text me and I'll show up there to save you.”

“Right.” You replied even though you knew it wasn't the most appropriate answer.

You realized it would be stupid not to go knowing it could be about the rink. There was a good chance it was, which was supposed to get you excited, but in reality was doing the exact opposite. Selfishly, you wanted this to be about you and nothing else.

As petty as it sounds, you wanted to get there and hear Harry admit that he missed you, that karma had gotten him good, or something else that made you feel like your suffering had been worthwhile even if you were never getting back together. That was why you were afraid to go… because you would be disappointed if he looked as fine as he did last time.

“Does that mean you're going?” Niall asked, cutting through the pitiful thoughts racing through your mind.

You chewed on your lower lip. “I guess.”

You saw him as soon as you walked into the cafe.

He was sitting alone, but there was a girl “standing” next to his table. To refer to that as plain standing would be inaccurate. You knew what she was doing, and most of all you knew what for.

She was showcasing the best she had to offer. That was why her hips were pushed back, and her gut was pinched so firmly.

She fixed her hair over her shoulder, and you got a glimpse of her face. She was hot enough to get you to stand up straighter, but not to make you wonder if you should have spent more time getting ready before coming.

You stayed back and waited for their interaction to be over. For you, this was nothing new. You’d grown so used to watching girls fawning over him that it rarely made you jealous anymore, despite it always being slightly unpleasant to witness.

The bright side was that experience taught you when to worry… and now wasn't the time.

She appeared to be asking a question about game tickets, but you could tell by the look on Harry's face that he wasn't all that interested in chatting with her. He looked like he wanted to be left alone. He was doing that thing that he used to do when random people approached him back when you were together - he smiled politely but barely said a word.

It took the girl some time to catch on, but eventually she got the hint. He wasn’t interested, and no amount of flashing her cleavage would change his mind. She stepped away, and you took it as your cue to walk over.

“Hey.” You greeted as you got to the table, hurrying to remove your scarf and jacket before you took the chair facing Harry’s. Not that there was any other option to pick, anyway.

“Hi.” He smiled slightly, before pushing one of the coffee cups on the table towards you. “I hope you don’t mind that I went ahead and ordered you a drink...”

His gesture brought you back to memories frozen in time, but you didn't allow yourself to linger on them too long. You and Harry used to meet at this coffee shop all the time. In fact, it was once one of your favorite places in town but being here now only brought back sensations you'd rather avoid. Still, for the sake of politeness, you accepted his drink. “Oh, um… thanks. You didn't have to get me anything...”

“I know I didn’t.” He took a sip of his cup, and you impulsively mimicked his action. The coffee which used to taste like love, suddenly seemed almost too dull to drink. “You still like those, right?”

You wondered if he had noticed your grimace. “Yeah, it's what I always used to get from here. I'm surprised you remember…”

“I guess I haven't had enough time to forget most things about you yet.” A twinge of discomfort shot through your chest at his words. You suspect he caused it on purpose. “I have a sharp memory.”

“I'm not sure that'll last if you keep hitting your head like that.” Your point was lost on him, which kind of made you regret making it in the first place. “You've got a bruise… on your...”

“Oh, that.” He tried to mask it with a quick ruffle of his hair, but you could still see it. “That's nothing, forget about it.”

“I wouldn't exactly call it nothing, when-”

“I didn’t ask you to come here to talk about that.” He intervened before you finished. “There’s something I need from you.” He admitted, crossing his arms over the table.

“'All right then, what is it?”

“That jersey I gave you, do you still have it?”

“Why are you asking?”

“I need it back.” His request caught you completely off guard. Your mouth opened and tried to speak, but nothing came out. “Mine got ripped and the spare I gave you is the only one I have left.”

When you finally spoke, it was quickly and angrily. “I'm not giving it back.” You said, and Harry let out a groan. “You never mentioned I was only allowed to keep it until you needed it back. It looked like a gift to me.”

Another sigh followed, this time deeper and more frustrated. “That’s because it was a gift… but now I need it, and I'm pretty sure you're not wearing it, so what difference does it make?”

You crossed your arms and shook your head. “You can't ask for gifts back, that's nasty.”

Why, of all things, did he have to ask you to give back his jersey? It was the most special gift he had ever given you. And now just because he never got to see you wear it, it automatically meant you didn't care for it?

That was simply not true!

Behind closed doors, his jersey was still a favorite.

Frankly, the only reason why you stopped wearing it during games was because you thought it would be demeaning not to. It would have been weird for everyone, plus you didn't think Harry would appreciate you walking around with his number on your back when you weren't together anymore.

Not that people thinking he had a girlfriend would have been enough to keep any hookups from happening if he wanted them to. When it came to Harry, it seemed nothing was ever enough to discourage girls from trying their luck. It wasn't just because he played on the hockey team. That was a bonus, but it was insignificant compared to the rest. His looks, his character, his sense of humor… from the surface, Harry looked like a catch, and finding that he was everything but, hurt. You still loved him, so it hurt. You hated how it all still hurt.

“I'm not asking for any of the other stuff back. I'm asking for my jersey because I desperately need it; else, I wouldn't be asking.” He explained as you sat there, feeling your chest squeeze as you half-listened to his reasoning. “Please Y/N, this is sort of critical for me.”

His slightly pouted lips suggested that he had also not forgotten how to sneak his way inside your heart. It wasn't a difficult task, but it was aggravating how well it still worked.

The worst part is that he didn't even do it on purpose; it was just the way his face looked whenever he wanted something and was told no. It was the same face that managed to get your panties to come off that one time right before a game, despite your fear of getting caught.

“Fine. I'll give your stupid jersey back,” When he smiled in relief, you halted your words, but only for a moment. “Under one condition.” His nostrils flared as he took a long breath, gearing himself up for what you were about to say next. “You'll have to convince your coach to give us our ice time back, otherwise you can forget it.”

“Y/N, can we not do this right now, please? I already told you that I had nothing to do with that shit.”

Harry’s reaction left you feeling oddly disappointed. Not angry, but close to it. That was when you realized you had made the same mistake again. You had been expecting him to be concerned, or at least to act as if he cared. It wasn't his job to care. It wasn't his job to make sure you were happy.

Nonetheless, Harry could still be the key to getting what you wanted.

It didn't feel good to have to coax him into backing you, but it was your duty to do so for Niall and the rest of the skaters. The hockey team had crossed a line, and if this was the only way to stop them, so be it.

He might not be thrilled to help you, but he had the means to do so. If he wanted to get a favor, he would have to do one for you as well. In the end, it was only fair.

“I believe you, but you're the team captain, and I know he'll listen to you.” You took another sip of the coffee you had almost forgotten was there. “I'm only taking a favor for a favor… sounds pretty reasonable to me.”

“Okay, fine, whatever. I’ll see what I can do.”

You cocked a brow at his reaction. “That's not enough. If I can't see any improvements, the deal is off.”

Harry stretched in his chair, crossing his arms behind his neck while he mused. “That's called extortion, you know? It’s a felony.”

Your lips curled as you snorted at his remark. “It's not my fault you got in a fight and need a new jersey; I'm simply taking advantage of the circumstances. Besides, you aren't so innocent yourself... or did you think I couldn’t tell you were trying to butter me up earlier by getting me my favorite drink?”

Harry’s eyes widened with what looked to be confusion and amusement... and perhaps even a little happiness. “You were at the game?”

Your face got warm. “Oh, uh… yeah. I went with Niall. He likes watching sports, so...”

“Ha, I see...” His face turned expressionless. “You're wrong about your drink, by the way... I wasn’t trying to butter you up, I just thought it'd be a nice gesture.”

“Yeah, I guess...” You smiled a bit, before deciding to congratulate him on his team's victory. “You played well yesterday. Everyone went crazy when you scored that goal at the end.” The moment you finished talking, you noticed Harry was slouching in his chair, just staring at you. It was almost trance-like, the way his eyes weren’t able to stop smiling. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” He asked, but then in a sudden move, he got up, picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “I have to get going. I've got homework.”

You didn't really buy his excuse, but you also didn’t question it since you knew he wouldn't tell you whatever it was that was on his mind. “Yeah, okay.” You said instead, despite your enquiring face. “I guess I’ll see you...”

“Tuesday.” He completed. “I'm not sure what time yet, but I'll let you know.”

He was gone in an instant, leaving you alone with nothing but two unfinished cups of sad, tasteless coffee to keep you company.

Tuesday came by quickly.

Amidst the week's rush of lectures at university, runs and yoga classes with Niall, as well as preparations for the championship, you barely registered the days passing by.

As far as your agreement with Harry goes, you knew he had kept true to his word since there were no hulking hockey players in sight that day when you got to the rink.

Given that you had agreed on Tuesday, you didn't bother getting up early the mornings before to check on the rink's availability... and considering that you had the schedule for it over the weekend, you ended up booking that open spot in the afternoon right after lunch for free skating, even though it wasn't the most ideal.

The return to the ice on Tuesday morning, however, was a welcome relief.

The weather was peaceful… the ice was fresh, and you and Niall were able to make progress on a tricky jump that had been giving you the willies as of lately. It wasn’t perfect yet, but at least by the end of the morning you no longer felt like you were putting Niall through the danger of getting a neck fracture every time you leapt onto his shoulders.

Later that day, you met with your choreographer and he too noticed a positive shift in your performance. Having barely been on the ice over the week other than with your instructors, the shift was somewhat surprising... but it also made sense to an extent, since the break had allowed you to focus on other forms of training that you normally considered supplementary – like practicing balance and endurance.

After your choreography lesson, Niall invited you to go to the mall with him.

He wanted to check out a new tech store that had opened there, and since you had nothing better to do than finish the schoolwork you were procrastinating on, you accepted his invitation.

It was a fun afternoon, though you ended up spending much longer than you’d originally planned just browsing around. You barely noticed the hours passing, which was mostly Niall's fault because he had this extraordinary ability to beguile people with conversation topics that were seemingly random but made for weirdly interesting discussions.

His conversation starters almost always initiated with “Have you ever thought about...” and then something crazy would follow. It was impossible to stop the tangents after that, especially if he happened to touch on a subject that you considered to be interesting too. When that was the case, the two of you would just go on and on like a never-ending pit.

This happened several times that noon.

So, despite having been anxious as hell for the better part of the day knowing you’d be meeting up with Harry later, the whole thing had almost slipped your mind by the time he texted you asking if you'd at the centre soon.

“Shit.” You muttered while replying to his message saying you were on your way. “Can you drive me to the sports centre? I need to get something to Harry and I'm too late to walk there.”

“Yeah, sure.” Niall said as you began making your way to the escalator that took you to the underground parking lot. It had become less crowded since you arrived, so finding the car wasn't too difficult. “So what’s going, you’ve been talking with him again?”

“Nothing is going on. I told you about him asking for his jersey back. I'm surprised you forgot…”

“Ah! True, true.” He responded as he climbed into the driver's seat. “I just wanted to ask if there was anything else besides that. I know you aren't fully over him yet, which is understandable, but...” He paused, then let out a sigh. “I guess what I’m trying to say is I don't want my friend to end up in the same position again if you get what I mean.”

“Yeah, I get what you mean.” You leaned back in your seat and stared out the window. “But don't worry, that's not going to happen. It's pretty obvious he doesn't like me, but even if he did…well, as the saying puts it… once bitten, twice shy.”

You talked about something lighter the rest of the way there. Niall wasn’t the type to bring up uncomfortable topics or force you to talk when you didn't feel like it. He usually just listened when you shared, which was good. He still gave his advice if you asked for it, but when it came to your situation with Harry, that wasn't what you needed, and he was aware of that.

What you needed was a friend that respected your decisions, but still cared about your well-being at the same time. A friend who understood you'd want to go meet your ex on your own but still offered to wait and give you a ride home afterward, so you didn’t have to walk alone at night.

The next day, the hockey team was playing outside of town, so there was a big, tall bus parked at the back of the sports centre.. and a shadowy man standing right next to it. The sky had already darkened so it was hard to see, especially on the side he was on, which wasn't getting bathed by the centre’s lights like the opposite one was.

Logically, you knew it must be Harry, but you didn't want to get too close without being sure. It could be the bus driver, or someone who happened to be there for something else. So instead of walking over, you stood at a reasonable distance and cast a wide-eyed glance in all directions, before lowering your gaze to your phone screen to text Harry letting him know you were outside.

But before you could send him anything, you were startled by his voice. “You can come over here, I don’t bite.”

You hoped the nighttime blindness worked both ways because you had jumped a little with the scare, which had to have looked a little stupid. “Oh, it is you! I couldn't tell from back there… it’s er…dark.”

If he saw you jump, he didn’t acknowledge it, instead he asked, “Did you walk all the way here by yourself?”

He seemed concerned that you had, which gave you a warm feeling in your belly. You didn't know what to make of it. “Oh, no. I was at the mall with Niall when you called so, he drove me. He’s parked at the front.”

“Hm.” Harry grunted dryly, which sparked a little awkward pause until he finally asked the dreaded question, “Do you have the jersey?”

“Oh yeah- one second... it's in my bag.” You smiled stiffly before you started rummaging around for it. “I’m not the best at doing laundry so the color might have gotten bit worn off from the washer, I hope that’s not an issue.”

“That’s fine.” He tossed the jersey over his shoulder, disregarding how neatly you'd folded it. “Thanks.”

“Okay, um… you must be pressed for time, so…”

“Not necessarily.” You found the coldness in his voice upsetting, and you couldn't figure out why he was stalling you when he obviously wasn't delighted to see you. “So how’s the situation with the rink, did it all work out?”

“It did.” It was a brief response, but you didn't feel like standing there chit-chatting just for the sake of it. “Thanks, for helping and… I guess for asking too.”

“Don’t thank me.” He said it brusquely, which irritated you even more. “Okay, um… I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Yeah, that.” You curled your lips in a weak smile, and Harry did the same before setting out to go back inside the building. Sadly, upon watching him leave, you couldn't resist calling his name to see his face again. “Hey, Harry-” His head jerked back at the sound. “Have a good game tomorrow. I hope you win!”

He looked like he was about to look away, but he didn’t. Instead, he returned your gaze, as though he was contemplating something. There was a strange glint in his eyes, and it lingered there as he began walking back towards you. And then, wordlessly, swiftly and without a warning, his hands reached for your face… and his lips reached for a kiss.

You squeaked in surprise at the feeling, but that was all there was to it. After Harry’s lips' familiar texture took over, there wasn't much room left for surprises. His body steered yours backwards against the side of the bus, sheltering you from any curious eyes peering through the windows above. “Harry, what-”

“Stop talking,” He muttered against your lips, still laying kisses in between. “I know it's messed up but if we both keep quiet, no one has to know it happened.”

Your throat was itching to respond, but his kissing made your head blurry. His mouth lowered to taste your neck, kissing every inch of skin it swept by. Then, just when you thought it couldn't be any better, his tongue slipped out and found a spot that had you gasping quietly.

The touch of his body was setting yours on fire, reviving it in a way it hadn't been in ages. Your kisses grew hotter and heavier, and before either of you could pause and wonder if this was right, Harry was already fumbling with the button of your jeans - and you were letting him.

“Do you still think of my hands?” You could feel the warmth of his words on your skin as his fingers slid in. His pace was slow, almost too slow, as if he was enjoying listening to the eagerness of your heartbeats. “I think of yours most times; whenever I play with myself, it’s always you… your hands... your mouth... your pussy…”

You both moaned as Harry reached the hot spot hidden beneath your panties. He rubbed a bit around it, in slow and steady circles. “I’ve always loved how fast it reacts to my touch… it gets so wet and creamy, and your clit… fuck, ‘s all puffy and twitchy…” His fingers pressed harder on it, stroking more firmly.

And shit, you were getting there already. So, so close that your entire body was twitching uncontrollably against his. “Please… d-don’t stop.”

“Already? Fuck baby… you haven't been giving it the proper attention lately, have you?” You shook your head in response to his question. It was almost embarrassing how quickly you had gotten to that point, but Harry was right; you hadn't had an orgasm in a while… and of course, he could tell. “I'm not gonna lie, I already suspected that she wasn't being well taken care of, but shit... that's just disgraceful, isn't it?”

You could hardly gather the strength to answer him. The only sound you could muster were a few high-pitched "mhmms" that were muffled against his neck. You groaned when he pushed his fingers in and pierced through your hymen a little too briskly. “Still?”

You felt a little offended by how surprised he sounded but acknowledged his question with a nod. “It’s okay, just breathe…” He whispered softly into your jaw as his motions became gentler.

This wasn’t the first time Harry had used his fingers on you, but usually it was more the outside bits that he focused on. He loved giving oral, so you did a lot of that… the fingering thing only came later once you started having conversations about him taking your virginity. If it were up to you, you’d no longer have it, but Harry had wanted to take things slow. He knew your mind was prepared, but he had wanted to make sure your body was too… just so the experience was painless and pleasurable for both, and not just for him.

The stretching burn you were feeling eased after a while. It still stinged a little, but it wasn’t a bad type of feeling. Slowly but surely, it was transforming into a different type of heat, the kind that spread through your abdomen and got you to spasm around Harry’s fingertips.

He was going to make you cum if he kept on doing what he was doing…

Which he didn't.

He stopped right before you got there.

You stared up at him in confusion, right before you started glancing around to make sure no one was walking out of one of the buildings or approaching the bus. “What- what happened? Why did you stop?”

“Stop with what, hm?” That feeling of disorientation pervaded your mind for a moment, but reality set in once he started re-tucking your jeans back into place with a self-satisfied smile on his lips.

This was it.

He was done.

“That was a cute little warm up, wasn't it?” He shamelessly asked as he zipped up your fly. “It's a shame it had to end so abruptly… you seemed to be enjoying yourself... but don't get me wrong, this has been good fun for me too.”

With nothing to say or do, you just stood there astounded. You were torn between sobbing out of frustration, seeking an explanation, and simply leaving without uttering another word. It wasn't like whatever decision you made mattered anyway since none of those options would accomplish you anything.

The mess had already been made.

You shouldn't have allowed this to happen, and shouldn't have enjoyed it, but you did. It would have been much smarter to put a stop to things right the moment Harry kissed you but, despite the circumstances, you couldn't bring yourself to do it… and now, after everything he'd already done, he was ridiculing you.

When you looked at him again, you noticed that all of the traces of humor that had been gracing his features had dissipated. His gaze felt like steel, harsh and bitterly cold. “You should go. Niall's waiting for you, remember?”

His chest got shoved back by your clasped fists. “You’re an asshole!”

He tried to grab your wrists, but you shoved his chest again. It was enough to make him back down, although he still managed to get a hold of your arm. He used that to keep you from leaving. “I may be.” He spoke right in your ear. “Now you know what it feels like to be left stranded. I hope you fucking liked it as much as I fucking did.”  

PART 2

[jbaileyfansite]

Interview with Vanity Fair (2024)

If you looked up the phrase “booked and busy,” you’d probably find a picture of Jonathan Bailey. The British actor broke out as Lord Anthony Bridgerton, whose love story took center stage in the second season of Netflix’s eponymous hit romance. He captured even more hearts as Tim Laughlin, a McCarthy-era conservative turned radical queer leftist in Showtime’s epic limited series Fellow Travelers, and will soon star as another eligible bachelor, Fiyero, in Jon M. Chu’s two-part Wicked adaptation—a part Bailey scored after Chu found clips of the actor singing online. “The fact that it was a YouTube video that got me the job is kind of wild and incredible,” Bailey says on this week’s episode of Little Gold Men.

On top of all that, Bailey managed to return to the Ton for season three part two of Bridgerton, which begins streaming Thursday, June 13 and filmed concurrently with Fellow Travelers—which bled directly into Wicked. He remembers practicing Ozdust Ballroom choreography during lunch breaks on Travelers, wearing his buttoned-up G-man glasses and sharp haircut from the waist up—“and then it was Fame from the waist down. I’ve got terrible videos that may or may not surface in about a hundred years time—hopefully once I’ve died, because they’re so embarrassing.” But then again, there’s a poignancy to them: “Tim, if he’d been born 60 years later, may have played Fiyero in the school production of Wicked. And he would have loved the shiny boots.”

Vanity Fair: As Tim on Fellow Travelers, you evolve from a conservative, religious congressional staffer in the ’50s to a radical queer man living in the ’80s. What was it like filming that character arc? I have to imagine it would be tough to do.

Jonathan Bailey: It was an incredible challenge. For Tim, he’s talking about the idea of religion and faith and what that gives you at the beginning. And I think it seems to have equipped Tim to endure a love against all odds. He never gives up on Hawk (Matt Bomer). And Hawk becomes his sort of living religion, and something that he believes in.

I was like, I want to see a gay ingenue who’s a fish out of water—who’s itchy in his skin. It’s not like he’s doe-eyed and just sort of hapless; he’s fighting from the get-go. He does not understand why the world is the way it is. His emotions are the thing he leads with. And he’s all about truth and transparency and honesty. And I think that comes from this Catholic sort of conservative upbringing. So it��s just the most beautiful quest that he has in his life, to find absolution but also acceptance. But he never stops fighting. That’s why, to me, he’s an absolute icon.

Tim is prickly and struggling internally with his sexuality while also dealing externally with important moments in American history, from McCarthyism to the AIDS crisis. As a Brit, how familiar were you with the American history?

Not enough [laughs]. It was not included on the curriculum. But then I’m not sure it really was in America, either. This is why we’re shining a light on areas of history that conveniently haven’t been included. It’s an experience to explore a character throughout that time, but also the history of queer experience—to offer me, as Johnny, catharsis. And to be in a predominantly queer environment to tell that story. I relished it, because there’s so much that I need to understand about the privilege that I have now and the people that came before me. The fact that there’s five out gay actors leading the show is because of all the people that came before. And I’m telling you, people have been loving gay actors for years. They just haven’t been able to say that they’re gay.

We’re getting more and more queer stories and queer representation on screen, but these characters are not always portrayed by actual queer people. I think Fellow Travelers proves that it makes a big difference when you cast queer, out, gay, LGBTQ+ actors in roles that are queer.

This is so specifically exploring the queer experience over 40 years. I think there was a GLAAD report last week that was kind of disheartening, about how there’s been a decrease in queer or LGBTQ+ characters being represented…. Tim and Hawk and all the characters in this are born into a world where they have to fight. And if you’re ever having to monitor or adapt or to survive, if your first instinct is it might not work because of who I am, then that’s the difference between being a gay actor and not being a gay actor. It’s the fight.

The show wouldn’t work without your chemistry with Matt Bomer. How did you find that dynamic? Tim and Hawk’s relationship has a sub-dom dynamic, and at times it switches. There’s a power struggle. It’s complicated and nuanced and always believable.

[laughs] Well, I mean, Matt Bomer is a supreme being, and incredibly lovely and great. He’s got such a wealth of experience. We met on Zoom to do a chemistry read, and then we met in a coffee shop about a week, or even actually less than that—like, six days before we started filming. For about an hour we said, you know, this is such an opportunity. This is what we’re really excited about. It’s a great amount of trust and a free fall. But that’s the point of gay relationships: There is so much nuance, and the dynamic is so balanced because there’s no gender, There’s no—uh, what was it? Women are from Venus, men are from Mars.

The fact that the intimacy is so richly explored is so important to the gay experience. It’s something that I found really incredibly vital as well—to allow people to understand the way that men come together sexually is also directly linked to how the world communicates to them. You know, their relationship with their self-worth and their shame. Also, literally, where are the safe spaces that they can meet. Even in their own homes, in [Fellow Travelers], they had a window of how many hours until the sun came up and Hawk had to get out. Even there it’s unsafe. I loved that the intimacy had its own evolution.

I’m glad that you brought up the intimacy. It’s such an important part and of the show’s DNA, and, frankly, rare to see intimate scenes between two queer men on television. What was it like filming those scenes?

Personally, I just think, What an opportunity. It’s really exciting to be able to know that you’ve got the space to be able to show what you haven’t seen before. I remember Queer as Folk, Blue Is the Warmest Color. There’s been beautiful same-sex intimacy explored. But I think in this instance, it was how the two characters came together, but also directly reflective of what’s going on inside and the distance between what they really felt towards each other—what they felt like they could say, and also what they felt that they had to do in order to survive. That’s where the intimacy is incredibly hot.

It didn’t seem to me to be an overwhelming ask for the intimacy scenes. It felt to me that that was exactly what it should be. If you’re going to tell this incredibly bruising, tender, detailed love story that’s going to explore four moments in history, of course, you should explore the intimate dynamics. And I do think you can show so much about what’s happening with a human in those silent moments of intimacy. That’s why it’s brilliant. You know, I can see where sex scenes don’t further the plot and they don’t explore character development and they’re cynically included. With this, that was never going to happen because it was all on the page. And it’s important.

Source

[dawns-beauty]

How to replace Skyrim NPCs with faces made in RaceMenu

(aka the method I used to make all my NPC overhauls)

This is an updated version of the tutorial from this post. I forgot a step originally.

Why use this method?

RaceMenu (RM) gives you a lot more creative freedom than simply editing NPC faces in the Creation Kit (CK).

Just installing RM gives you access to new sliders not found in unmodded Skyrim and you can install further slider mods (such as Expressive FaceGen Morphs, or Khajiit Character Creation Extended, etc.)

It also allows you to use Overlay mods (like DomainWolf's mod series or Freckle Mania 2) which give you many more options to layer warpaints or skin features and create a more detailed face.

Links are to the SE version of the mods, as that's what I'm most familiar with. They likely have LE counterparts.

Things you will need:

RaceMenu (and SKSE; be sure to get the correct versions of both for your game)

NifSkope - you will use this to open and edit the mesh. Here's GamerPoet's setup video

More Informative Console (especially if you're editing mod-added NPCs)

BSA Extractor (or similar mod that lets you open and extract BSAs)

Things I highly recommend:

Creation Kit Platform Extended for Skyrim - makes using the Creation Kit way less like pulling teeth

Unofficial Creation Kit Patch - if you're using AE

An alternate start mod - I like Dimes Quickstart for its simplicity, but any would work

Another Race Menu Rotation Mod - handy for seeing how the back of hairs look

Stand still in RaceMenu (OAR) - stops the character from wiggling out of frame

If you're looking to edit an NPC from an unplayable race (Elder, Child, etc.) you will likely need a mod that makes that race playable

Fun Stuff for diverse options:

Extra slider mods (I like Expressive FaceGen Morphs)

Skin Overlay Mods (for extra detailed faces)

If you want to get REAL funky with it, you can also use OutfitStudio to have a lot better time sculpting/getting super wild with assets, but that's too advanced for this tutorial (and my method is very 'goof around until it just works.'

I don't really want to cover using mod-added headparts (like eyes, hairs, etc.) There are basically two options there: add them as new headparts for your mod or make your mod dependent on the mod the headparts are from. The second way is probably simpler for beginners, but I definitely suggest installing Creation Kit Platform Extended, as it will allow you to load the other mods as masters without the Suffering™.

The Workflow

1. Design your character like you would a player character. For this example, I am redesigning Arcadia.

A recommendation: unless you really feel like you need to change it, it is typically better to make the Weight slider match the NPC's actual weight. You can see this value using either SSE Edit or the Creation Kit.

It is no big deal if you don't, but if you change the weight and load the mod into an already existing save you will get a gap between the NPC's neck and body (unless you use Save Unbaker.)

Be careful, though, there is a RaceMenu bug where if you load up RM again after exiting, it changes the weight by .01. So annoying.

For Skin Tone choice, if you do a custom skin tone (by pressing 'E' while hovering over the slider) I would recommend leaving the transparency slider (the 'A' value) at 100% (though I usually make the exception for Khajiit and Argonians.) This info will go into the Interpolation Value box in the CK, and the RM values can't be directly input, so you have to calculate the value with a (RM Number/255 = X/100, solve for X which is your Interpolation Value)

1a. If you are planning on adding faceparts from mods to your own plugin, I recommend saving and doing that now. Then come back to your save and change your headparts to the versions from your plugin. If you want to just have the other mods as masters, you can skip this.

2. Once you're satisfied with your design, I recommend saving your game and saving your head as a preset (click to enlarge):

3. Now, you will need to write down some stuff.

Skin Tone (RGB value):

Hover over Skin Tone slider. Press 'E'.

write down the R G B values (and A if you change it, see above note)

Even if you use a default skin tone, this is the best way to make sure you get the correct value for the CK.

Weight (number)

Scars (name) (if applicable)

Hair (name)

Facial Hair (name) (if applicable)

Eye Color (name)

Brow Type (name)

Writing down Hair Color is optional: with this method, the hair will inherit color from the head you export, not the CK value. Plus, RM's values are not really useful, because the default hair colors are named.

It's the same with the Face Complexion (wrinkles, etc), with this method it is exported with the head mesh.

4. Export the Sculpt:

It should end up in your SKSE folder (SKSE\Plugins\CharGen), wherever that is for you

5a. Method 1 (works for both Vanilla and Mod-added NPCs): get your NPC in front of you, either by console command (example with J'zargo):

~ help 'J'zargo'

then, using their RefID (the number that appears next to their name) type:

player.placeatme 0001C1A3

Or find them in-world.

With the mod More Informative Console installed, reopen the console (~) and click on them. Write down their BaseID.

5b. For Vanilla NPCs: close your game and search for your character's name on UESP and find their BaseID. Copy this number.

6. Open your BSA extractor of choice and Skyrim's data folder. Find the Skyrim - Textures0.bsa. Open with your BSA extractor, and paste the BaseID in the search box

Check the checkbox next to the main facegen file only and extract somewhere easy to find.

7. Repeat this process with the Skyrim - Meshes0 file.

8. Create a new mod folder. You can either make a mod directly in the mod organizer (MO2 lets you right click in the left pane -> All Mods -> Create Empty Mod Above) or on your desktop.

Cut and paste the 'textures' and 'meshes' files you just extracted into your mod folder. If you are installing it via archive, go ahead and zip and install the folder.

9. Now open the Creation Kit. Use the folder icon to load your masters.

Pick Skyrim, Update, DLC (if applicable), and any other mods you want to be masters for your mod (for eyes, hairs, etc.) If you've made your plugin already for headparts, just load it up.

10. In the Object Window, expand the Actors -> Actor -> Actor tabs and now you have a lot of tabs with Race names. Find the race your NPC belongs to then open the appropriate gender tab. Alternatively, you can just search the character's name in the searchbox.

11. Find your NPC's name and double click. This opens their Actor window, which is where you will use all the data you wrote down.

If you want a preview of their face, tick the box at the bottom of the window.

For weight adjustments: go to the Traits Tab. For all other values you need to worry about for this tutorial, go to the Character Gen Parts.

So, to parse this: you can ignore the Face Tint Layers box and pretty much everything on the left side of the screen.

Face Tinting Color

Type in your values for R G and B (you can ignore the Preset dropdown completely.) The Interpolation value corresponsed to the 'A' value, so unless you are working on Khajiit or Argonians, it will probably always be 1.

Base Head Parts

To change stuff in this section, click the line you want to change then go down to the dropbox below it and change it to what you want Face - unless you're using something like High Poly Heads, you can ignore this Everything else in this box: change to what you wrote down for each

Additional Head Parts

This is mainly used for scars and functions a little differently. To add a scar, you need to go to the Object window again. You can expand the Character tab and click 'HeadPart' then search the name of the scar you want. Click and drag the line with your scar into the Additional Head Parts box and it should show up there.

12. Once you've got the above like you want it, hit 'Ok', save your plugin. Now, to make the next step a little easier, you can click the NPC name in the Object Window again and hit f4.

This will export the meshes/textures file folders to the mod you just made in step 8.

Go ahead and exit the CK now

13. Go your your files exported from the last step. Open a second window from the files you exported from SKSE.

Open both meshes in two separate NifSkope windows.

If your SKSE head has a weird broken neck mesh like above, that's not a problem and can be ignored.

You absolutely must make sure your headparts match the head you exported from RaceMenu exactly, or you will get the dreaded dark face bug.

Now, you will need to find the Head textures in the head you exported from the CK. If your NifSkope is set up like mine, it should look like this:

Copy this line and paste it into the SKSE head in the same slot.

Save the SKSE NifSkope and close.

14. Rename the SKSE files (both .dds and .nif) to the number your exported heads are. You can then copy and paste your your SKSE files to their respective folders in your step 8 mod folder:

the .nif file goes in meshes/actors/character/FaceGenData/FaceGeom/[name of plugin]

the .dds file goes into textures/actors/character/FaceGenData/FaceTint/[name of plugin]

And now you're ready for testing! At this point I also recommend taking a second and converting your plugin to an ESPFE via SSE Edit. It's pretty simple and there are tutorials out there.

Scully, you're not gonna believe this.