#i actually love the word fool. so much in so few letters. fool

[aromanticannibal]

fool

that is me yes

[seancekitsch]

Hazbin Hotel—Lucifer x Reader where he’s a love struck fool for reader? May or may not be inspired by that little imagine you posted not too long ago \(//∇//)\

uhhh this kinda got away from me. enjoy!!

You’d have to be a fool not to notice how the King of Hell acts around you, even Angel and Husk told you that. But you’re not blinded to situation, you know exactly what’s going on. You rest your elbow on the bar next to Angel as Charlie gathers the hotel residents and staff, a job not unlike herding cats. Everyone trickles in slowly, waiting for the next odd trust bond activity Charlie has come up with now. Last week was heartfelt letter writing, and the three of you at the bar had not taken it seriously. You handed Husk a comedic inner monologue about how much you needed to pee, Husk handed Angel a surprisingly detailed made up story about a talking whisky bottle, and Angel handed you a list of what roles he’d cast the entire hotel in a porno.

“What do you think they’ll have us do this time?” Husk mumbles to you, topping off your drink.

“Honestly, not a fan of the way Princess is smiling right now,” you answer.

Charlie waves everyone over, and Vaggie smiles uncomfortably, ready for everyone to start.

“Okay Good Afternoon,” Charlie starts, practically bouncing, “Today we’re going to try to form new bonds!”

Immediately, she’s met with groaning and mumbling, but thats never stopped her and it won’t today either.

“So what better way to do that then having a buddy for the next twenty four hours!” She shouts, and Vaggie’s face immediately makes sense.

“I’ve separated everyone from their regular group so they can build these bonds and be open!”

“…got something you could open…” you hear Angel mumble under his breath.

Charlie gives her dad a thumbs up.

“The first pairing is… my dad and Y/n!”

The Morningstar family sucks at being subtle or lying.

“So what did you have planned for the day?” Lucifer asks while sitting beside you, his voice short and clipped, his entire demeanor like he’s on high alert. It’s cute, really.

“Ah don’t worry about it,” you shrug, “What does the areat King of Hell do with his day?”

Lucifer rubs his neck, fidgeting under your question.

“It’s not… Its not actually all that interesting,” he admits, “You’ve probably got something cooler going on.”

There’s something he’s avoiding besides your gaze, but you don’t press the issue.

You look across the lobby to Angel, who pauses his conversation with Vaggie to mouth something that looked like the word “fart” to you, and then wink.

Your art gallery. Right.

“Have you ever been to Pentagram City’s biggest art gallery?” you ask him.

Lucifer is a gentleman. You understand how he stole the first man’s first two wives from him. Sure, he’s stumbling and stuttering and a nervous wreck, but he’s holding doors open for you and asking about your thoughts and feelings about the pieces on display, he’s accidentally on purpose almost held your hand three times now. Next time he does it, you’re just going to grab his damn hand.

You stare at the sculpture in front of you, noting that you should have someone move this to a different room. In fact, there’s a few things you’ve noticed while showing Lucifer the art that you should have moved around. Maybe you’ve been neglecting the gallery a bit more than you thought now that you live at the hotel.

“Hey, Can I ask you about these?” Lucifer’s voice booms from the next room over. Sighing, you type a quick note into your V-Phone and turn.

Oh shit.

Lucifer found THAT room.

You cross the threshold into the room you never go into, the room with your own work. Honestly, it’s not even curated the way the other rooms and floors are. This is where you put anything that you think can leave your studio. He’s in front of one of your biggest paintings, and one of your newest. It’s an abstract piece about your feelings about redemption, about your past sins, about adjusting to the hotel. Which it sounds stupid when you put it like that, but it made sense in the moment and you’re proud of it.

He turns and smiles before looking back at the painting.

“Is the uh, is the artist willing to sell this piece?” he asks, his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning red.

Now it’s your turn to get nervous. You’ve never actually sold any of your own pieces before.

“I uh- I’m not gonna sell it to you,” you tell him, “You can have it.”

It would be weird to take money from Lucifer, even if he is offering. You like him a decent amount and a transaction between the two of you would make it weird. It would feel like you owe him, even though your art would technically satisfy that. If he was one of the Vees or someone you dislike, you would have immediately taken money.

“But the artist-“

“Me,” you clarify, and you finally remember you don’t tag your own art. Lucifer’s jaw drops at your admission.

“I’d really like to support your work, it’s magnificent,” Lucifer insists, and you feel your cheeks burning. He turns to gesture to another piece, and his knuckles brush your own.

Fuck it. You told yourself you’d do it. You grab Lucifer’s hand in your own, a bold move.

“Just think about it as a gift,” you tell him, “A thank you for the lovely day we’ve had.”

You inwardly cringe, knowing that when you recount today at the lobby bar your drinking buddies are going to tear you a new one for that corny line. But it fits for Lucifer; he’s bringing out a side of you that you really haven’t seen in a while.

“Thank you uh, gorgeous,” he tacks on the pet name like even he isn’t sure about it, and with his hand still in yours, attempts to lean against a sculpture, stumbling as he misses it and bringing you along with him. He tugs you by the arm, jerking you closer to him. He’s majorly out of practice.

“I have a studio upstairs if you want to see more?” you offer, not really sure if you thought that through.

“More art? Absolutely!” He recovers quickly, enthusiasm dripping from his voice.

You smile as you pull him towards the hallway, butterflies in your stomach as it dawns on you that he’s going to be the only person besides you to see the studio.

You and Lucifer end up staying there until Charlie calls him the next morning.

You notice paint on his chin after you get back to the hotel.

[effloradox]

Your thomas thorne stuff is great. Do you have any more lined up?

Anyone fancy a bit of angst?

Warnings: Thomas' death, mention of gunshots, slight divergence of canon

You're not accustomed to being awake before the sun has risen. You're not naturally inclined to early mornings, much more content to wake up long after the sun has risen, so it's with a level of discomfort that you realise how early it is that you've woken up. It's still dark outside from what you can tell and you tempted to turn over and fall back asleep. It's only when your eye catches sight of a letter slipped under your bedroom door that you decide to get up to see what it is.

You recognise the handwriting as being Thomas' and it brings a smile to your face almost instantly. Thinking it to be a new poem you eagerly turn the letter over in your hand, breaking the wax seal and releasing it from its envelope. The first thought you have is that it must be a very short poem as it only has two lines.

I love you dearly.

Should something happen to me, I'm terribly sorry.

You go still as you process the words. You feel your stomach drop as anxiety builds in your chest. It's all you can do to get dressed as quickly as possible, heading out of your room and downstairs as soon as you're decent.

The next sign that something is very wrong is when you spot Isabelle walking into one of the drawing rooms. She's never been seen awake before sunrise either and you're quick to follow her into the room.

"Where's Thomas?" Any pleasantries she was about to say die on Isabelle's tongue as she takes in your disheveled state. It's early, too early for you to be awake, and she had hoped to avoid you completely for the next few hours.

"I- I'm not sure." You know she's lying to you. Can feel something in your chest telling you that your friend is concealing the truth from you.

"Isabelle, please." You watch your friend closely, waiting for her to speak again.

The sound of a gunshot rings through the air, startling you and Isabelle. You're no fool, you see the way your friend's eyes dart towards the window in the aftermath of the shot. You waste no time hurrying to the window, your eyes scanning for any signs of your missing betrothed.

Your heart stops when you see him, leaning against the base of a tree looking paler than could ever be considered healthy. The next few moments dissappear in a blur as you move without thinking, running out the front door.

"Thomas!" Despite it all, his face lights up when he sees you running towards him. He tries to lift himself to his feet, but his face crumbles into a grimace as pain shoots through him at the movement, and he manoeuvres himself back to resting against the tree.

"My love, you shouldn’t be out on a day like this, you might catch a chill." You're about to make a comment about how he's more likely to catch a chill in just a shirt and waistcoat when you look down and something crimson catches your eye. It's with growing horror that you spot the bloodstain blossoming over his waistcoat.

"What happened?"

"My cousin thought it appropriate to besmirch your reputation in my presence. He had to be held accountable."

"Thomas."

"My cousin is better than me in almost every way, I accepted that a long time ago. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you to him though."

"I belong to you, don't you realise that? My heart is bleeding in your hands, Thomas." You take his hand in yours, pressing it to your chest. You feel like your heart is fluttering like a hummingbird, and part of you prays that he can't tell how much you're panicking as blood continues to stain his clothes.

"I believe it is actually my heart bleeding right now." He winces slightly as another wave of pain passes over him, his grip on your hand tightening.

It's with growing agony that you see his focus on you start to slip away as his breathing speeds up. His breaths are erratic and inconsistent, and a horrible part of you knows that the man you love is going to die in front of you.

You make sure to keep squeezing his hand, muttering sweet nothings and gentle words under your breath to him until his breathing starts to quieten. You'll be damned if you don't make sure he knows just how much you love him in these final moments of his life.

The first tears start to fall when he finally goes quiet, and then all at once, it's like the dam breaks. The shock gives way to anguish as the morning's events finally settle into your mind.

The dawn begins to break over the two of you as you cradle him into your chest, the only sounds your broken sobs and the quiet birdsong in the distance.

[love-kurdt]

Swooping, Sloping, Cursive Letters: 14

word count: 490

PLEASE READ THIS IS ME TRYING FIRST, AS THIS STORY RELIES HEAVILY UPON THE CONTEXT OF TIMT

September 18, 1988

Dear Will,

I contemplated going back to my last letter and adding “Love,” above the spot where I signed my name, but that would sort of feel disingenuous. Because I did it on purpose. I didn’t sign “Love, Mike” because I thought that if I didn’t sign it, I would be able to… I don’t know, manifest the idea of getting over you. I don’t even believe in manifestation or any of that hippie dippie crap, but I figured I’d at least try all available options. But that, trying to “tone it the fuck down,” obviously didn’t work. I think it actually made me feel worse, because I lied to both you and myself. I think I’ll love you until the day I die, if I’m being totally honest.

Like, seriously, I could barely make it a fucking day without feeling the urge to justify why I didn’t sign a letter to you with “Love,” when I know damn well you’ll never even read these. I’m kind of glad you won’t, because I’m making a huge fool out of myself. I can just hear my dad’s voice: “You’ve turned soft, Michael. Next thing you know, you’ll be wearing pigtails and singing along to Madonna.” As if I don’t do the latter already, hahaha.

I sometimes like to imagine a future with you, which is probably the worst thing for someone who’s trying to move on, but I digress. It helps me escape reality. I can picture us being, like, middle aged, living right on the line dividing a big city and its suburbs. I think about how we would come home from a long day at work, the both of us feeling way too tired to cook dinner, so we’d warm up some frozen egg rolls and call it a day. We’d migrate to the couch after dinner (both of us seated practically on top of each other on the same cushion, of course, because what is personal space, anyway?), and we’d have a few glasses of wine, maybe watch a movie. And when we’d turn in, we’d stand in front of the bathroom mirror together as we brushed our teeth, you’d put in your retainer and I’d take out my contacts, and then you’d pull me into our room by the hand and we’d get into bed and just… be. You’d pull me into your chest and I’d tell you how much I loved you and we’d kiss goodnight. Fuck, am I crying? I’m crying. Just a second. Fuck.

Probably not where you expected this letter to go, given my… lustful track record, but you get the picture. I love you. Forever. I’d spend the rest of my life with you in a heartbeat. Not being in love with you feels impossible. And if you eventually find out and reject me, I’ll be okay with the hurt. I just can’t lose you. Never again.

Love,

Mike

-

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[onedaughterofman]

Writing Sessions #3 (Cardinal Copia x g/n reader)

Summary: Copia's crush talks to him for the first time. For some reason, there's also a baby rat in his hands.

Tags: Fluff, Copia being dumb af, misunderstandings, some sexual innuendos (maybe). Copia is dumbfounded by his crush. Around 700 words.

A/N: Something short based on @tasty-ribz really cute fanart I loved it, so I had to write this ♥

Something squirms in his palm. Tiny fingers curl around one of his own, thin whiskers tickling at his skin. A baby rat, probably a few days old at most, rests secured between his hands.

“Poor thing! I found it all alone, Cardinal. Do you think it’s going to be fine?”

Your mouth is moving. Lucifer, how much Copia wishes he could understanda single thing you are saying. It must be important, because you seem high-spirited and there’s a heavy furrow on your brows. Oh, how cute you look when you gaze at him through your lashes, hands clutched together and shoulders shaking with each word.

Copia swallows, but nothing loosens the knot in his throat. The blood rushes to his face, causing a deafening rumble in his ears. Fuck, he’s all flushed and sweating, fingers lightly trembling upon being in your presence.

You are not only a Sibling of Sin requesting his assistance, but also the most beautiful Sibling he has ever seen. You are the one his heart yearns for, the love of his life. You and he are destined together, to be perpetually lovers as the times goes by.

Well, you don’t know it yet. One day, he’ll tell you. Just…

Not now.

“I was so worried, Cardinal. Papa’s cat had almost caught it before I did it, and the poor thing was shaking so hard. Hell, I think I’m shaking too…”

A hand is unhurriedly rested on his own. Copia swallows, sensing the thick saliva get stuck in his throat. He wants to cough, but somehow manages to stop. You are right, you are slightly trembling. A few of his fingers hold the tip of your own before letting go suddenly, as if the touch had burned.

And it did. You burn on his skin, almost as much as you set his heart on fire. Copia knows your name, he has written a dozen of love letters and poems dedicated to it.

Of course, he never actually sent them. He’s not even sure if you were the one who told him your name, or if he merely heard it around the hallways. Well, maybe he secretly checked the Ministry’s records trying to find it.

“Is that okay, Cardinal? We can take turns.”

“Turns?” He whispers, mismatched eyes completely focusing on yours. Big mistake. Copia feels as if the world had stopped, had come to a violent halt to allow him to bask in the beautiful sight. He notes your long lashes, bright eyes and the way your mouth moves when you smile at him.

“Yes, we’ll have to do this all day and night long. We’ll get so tired, won’t we? It’s not an easy task, we’ll end up sore and struggling to regain our breath.”

“Oh, Sibling,” he breathes out, mouth agape. The baby rat nests on his palm, snuggling closer. It’s so endearing, so tiny. Copia would be swooning right now, if only there wasn't a better view right in front of him.

“Would you like that? You can take the lead, since you seem to know what you are doing. I’ll do anything you tell me to, Cardinal! I’ll try my best!”

Fuck. Copia’s clothes are tight, extremely suffocating in all the wrong places. He gasps, mouth open, as he struggles to find the right words. Are you asking for him? Do you need him? If he could take you right here, right now, he would. The desire he feels towards you is too strong, it renders him a useless man, a fool.

Copia wants to hold you close, to fall to his knees and worship every inch of you to Hell and back.

“Sibling,” he murmurs, instead. He’s anxious, wheezing for air. “Of course. Anything you want.”

The smile on your face makes it worth it. Without notice, your hands are on his arms, softly squeezing as you gaze at him with dazzling eyes. “Thank you so much! I knew I could count on you, Copia!”

If the world had stopped before, now it’s in flames and about to break in a thousand pieces. Copia struggles to think, brain empty and mind running at full speed. He nods once, instinctively clutching the baby rat closer to his body. He can barely overhear the last words you say to him, before disappearing into the long hallways.

“Sorry, I’ve got to go. I’ll meet you later in your chambers, is that okay? I'm so excited. We'll be amazing together!”

Absentmindedly, he nods. Chambers? You are going to his private room? Oh, Satan. He has to clean everything, change the bedsheets, find some candles and wine, maybe? He has to set up a nice playlist, something to get the right mood.

Copia rushes through the corridors, long cassock swaying behind him. He’s so focused in his date he almost forgets about the baby, until it lets out a loud squeak.

Wait. Why did you give him a rat?

Copia isn’t completely sure. It’s okay, he doesn’t mind it. He’s always open to rescuing these little creatures from the cold and hunger of the Ministry. Besides, he can ask you tonight, when you finally meet him for your date.

Ps: someone save this man.

[asherloki]

My tiny

Sherlock x petite!reader

Request:- Hello! Fellow writer here :) 8 and 9 on the smutty one liners for sherlock x reader? Maybe he was thinking about her in his head (mind palace, whatever lol) and he called her to baker street and deducted she wanted him back? :) take this as far as you want or don't do it at all. Nothing but love <3 ~ @run-clever-boy

Smut

Word count:- 4144

A/n:- I'm not good at smut, I hope you still like it.

Prompt lists!

I walked upstairs almost as fast as I can and stood infront of Sherlock's door. As I came home after office I recieved a text from him "come at once, case ... Mostly - SH". Sherlock Holmes is the one who discovered my talent which I never knew I had. Solving mysteries. I was never into detective fiction either, until one day I met him he immediately asked me a few questions. He says he deduced I have an analytical brain, a brain to form thousands of theories, imageries which often are the reason for my distress, so he wanted to use my brain for something good. I started to tag along with him and John Watson. He took me to the cases which weren't dangerous for a woman. To him I'm rather a tiny woman, he even calls me tiny sometimes, which I first showed irritation to, but in my heart I know how much I like when he calls me that. So, the cases which are dangerous for a tiny woman like me he makes sure I solve, or help in solving them from their flat. As much as possible. He even let me talk to clients. I don't know what is the name of this relationship of ours, is he a guide, shaping me into a better person or ... I don't know but I actually like the fact that he doesn't care about women. Except for some, Molly Hooper his friend, Mrs Hudson his landlady, eurus his sister but it's complicated, and there's been someone else who intrigued this poor detective with her wit. He talks rather highly of Miss Irene Adler. His respect towards her makes me like her too, even though she's a criminal. Also that compliment, well I hope he meant it as a compliment when he said, "you're witty, like the woman". He likes my wit, intellectual debate. He sometimes brings up such topics of which I can speak of passionately, passion, he likes it. He also -

"Why didn't you knock?" The detective came opening the door, reminding me I've been standing there like a fool without knocking.

"Oh ... Sorry, I just-" I ran out of excuses, "let me in detective" I entered, his tall body couldn't stop my 5ft tall one to pass through the door.

"Welcome I guess" he said closing the door, "well it's my chair" he pointed towards his chair which I occupied.

"So? There's still alot of space there" apparently Sherlock himself is a lean man and I am petite as well, "anyway you said there's a case for me".

"Oh yes wait" he nodded and recalled about it, he went straight to his mantle piece and pulled out a letter which he handed me saying "here".

"From Mr Laurent" I read, "isn't he a detective too?"

Sherlock nodded in response.

"To miss... Wait it's for me?" I was stunned, a detective needed help but from me and not from.., "I don't understand".

"Seems like Mr Laurent has a crush on you" he said anything, I rolled my eyes and opened the letter,

"Let's read it" I said and read the letter contained the case Mr Laurent needed my help with, an old man was murdered in Venice, his four sons and their wives were in the house with three strangers, he's known for his reckless lifestyle when he was young, Mr Laurent also sent me a ticket to Venice. I read the whole thing out loud and Mr Holmes, my friend, I hope I can call him so, listened attentively, "he needs my help? But it's rather clear, who did it."

"Who did it?" No comment was made on his part to the request of help instead he asked about my theory for the case.

"Isn't it obvious, three strangers at his house exactly at the time of his murder? I mean, look he was known for his reckless lifestyle when he was young, which I'd like to believe involved women, who knows, how many enemies he harboured for himself and who knows how many illegitimate children, atleast one wouldn't surprise me, we need to check on the strangers, if the family members were to do it they would've done it anyday, won't even make a fuss about it, even though it's possible they chose this time to put the blame on the strangers but I believe the wealth of this old man would go to them anyway, they're the legal family but these strangers." I looked at Sherlock, he stood at where he was, staring at me, I know these eyes, he only stares like that when I'm making a point, a theory, a solution to the mystery, "we can check on these strangers I guess ".

He came closer to me, slowly, I didn't know why but the air was... Sultry, I didn't feel such things for him, never ever, he's not really... My type.

"Yeah" he said clearing his throat "are you going then?"

I shook my head "no, I don't know this person " I stood up, "I can't spent time with someone I barely know."

"I'd suggest the same" he said taking that ticket away from me, "he just wants to get into your..." He stopped.

"Into my?" I asked..

"Nothing " he said and put that letter away.

"Into my bed, I know" I answered making him chock, "was it vulgar?"

He glanced at me, it's not that vulgar, I said many vulgar things intellectually that just made everything less awkward for John, Sherlock and I never had an awkward moment, we have same vibe, same mentality, same everything.

"No it wasn't " he said coming closer, it's bizarre, he's like everyday, clad in his black trousers, white shirt, his same dressing gown, something hot surrounded us. I've barely felt any such tension after my fling with Thomas ended. It was all about Sex and Sherlock hated it, he never objected but he hated how we just banged wherever we got the chance, we didn't spare his bathroom. He doesn't know about it.

"What's in the corner of your lips?" He asked touching the corner of my lips, almost, I didn't move, consenting him silently to touch them.

"What's there?" I enquired, to my own surprise my voice came out as a sultry whisper, never happened with him.

"May I check?"

I nodded and I wasn't aware of what I was going to experience. His lips touched mine, the first time ever, we kissed? I couldn't believe my own senses we actually kissed.

He pulled away, smirking as he replied, "there was nothing".

Can you believe it?

"Very funny" I replied sultrily and walked towards the kitchen, "what was that supposed to mean ? Jealousy?"

He furrowed his brows as I said something impossible, "jealous of what?"

"Mr Laurent?" I replied.

"Why would I be?"

"I don't know, perhaps the fact that he asked me to come with him and if he's handsome then we might.."

I didn't have to complete my sentence when my detective came almost running saying,

"Don't you dare bang him all over Venice".

"I'm not a whore"

"I know you aren't, but Thomas"

"He was my fling so..."

"Shut up you're my tiny detective" he literally called me tiny and didn't let me act offended, rather crashed his lips on mine, bless Thomas for teaching me everything I needed to be good at this. I let our tongues dance as we parted lips to let them enter.

"I've been thinking of this, and more everytime you formed theories of a case, solved them, did some analytical research or simply said something intellectual with.." he said pulling away, "with passion, so much passion, you're a spark, a fire and I would be cold without you" my ears as if I couldn't believe what I was hearing, he was vulnerable, expressing himself however he could, "make me warm Sunshine, tiny little detective".

"I'm not.." I couldn't even object, he interrupted.

"Miss 5ft."

I'm tiny, his tiny... I did say his didn't I?

"Tiny one, hated when you banged Thomas" Sherlock said booping my nose lightly.

"Could see it in your eyes" I replied letting his fingers trace the features of my face.

"Pretty Little face, cute little exterior" he said out loud then leaning to my ears he whispered "only I know how much thirst is in there".

Yes, the thirst. Never thought I'd actually do it with him but..

"Guess we're gonna..." I stared.

"Do something else " he picked me up and I wrapped my legs round him as he carried me to his bedroom. I'm so petite that I fit perfectly in his arms. He has comforted me many times when some violent case triggered me, I love his embrace and I am loving whatever we're upto. He dropped me on his bed, and he climbed on top of me.

"So, what's your plan?" I asked confidently knowing he has little to no experience in bed.

"You'll see tiny" this time it hit a nerve.

"If I'm petite then why do you wanna fuck me" I said a little agitated. He smirked knowing he's successful in driving me up the wall.

"Because, your anger and passion turns me on" he said as his hands fumbled with my shirt button, "and your intellect is my porn".

Now that was a big sixer by Mr Holmes. Making a woman like me whimper. And that made him raise a brow.

"I see your body reacting to my comment." That was sultry just like his voice. No wonder I've always admitted one thing about him, he has a sexy voice.

"Because words are our thing detective" I played my turn as well.

"I see, tiny detective" we both are detectives. And we both get a bit excited by intellectual word play. He and I know how to trun people's heads with words. He did it Jeanine and I, too with some men to get information.

"What if we actually..." I began to touch his buttons, "do the action this time, without all the talk?"

"I like that idea" he said, he and I both unbuttoned our shirts. Tossing them to some corner of his room. As soon as we both sat half naked his lips attacked my neck. Leaving prominent marks, for people to know to whom I belong, for now or... Forever Mr Sherlock Holmes.

I brought him even closer as the sensation was different, special, we've solved many cases together and this does feel special. Alot special. His hand roamed to my back and unclasped my bra. My nails dug into his skin. I wasn't ready for him to see me like this. His tiny detective at his mercy, does sound sexy doesn't it?

"May I?" He whispered in my ear, asking for permission if he could see my breasts.

"Ofcourse, it's not like your tiny has the biggest set of boobs" I joked to which he raised his face and looked into my eyes,

"Good, then they'll fit perfectly in my palm" he said, still not for once looking down at me. As I nodded and gave my consent then only he looked down and took no time into brushing his fingers against my hardened nipples, sending shivers, a touch from a man I trust, the hands which keeps me safe, the safest touch.

"You've never been into bodies did you?" I couldn't help but ask. He kept marking my neck and in between pinching my tits as he replied,

"A good body will lose it's charm with time, but a charming personality as yours, a passionate mind as you, an intellect like yours will never."

He does have a point, we'll still be eachother's favourite even after we're old as a goose.

"Also.." he continued, "your eyes will also remain beautiful, bright, reflecting your charming personality, a mystery I'll spend my life solving".

I allowed myself to bring him even closer and kiss him more lovingly this time, as his hands started to undo my belt and then pulling my jeans away. If I knew something like this would happen I would've come prepared, but... Guess he doesn't really care about all that.

"Don't overthink it" he said, "you look fine, I..."

He trailed off, wonder what he wanted to say but yes, I won't be a spoil sport with my overthinking. I got up and treated his trousers the same way he treated mine. And the twitching member of him was making sure to make his presence prominent.

"Should I do something about it?" I asked kissing his neck, feeling his body reacting to it under my fingers. I made him pull his pants down leaving him in his boxers, preparing myself to finally be the person to see Mr Holmes's thing. Wonder if anyone else got a glimpse... Oh right, Jeanine.

I kissed his chest as I put his boxers down, his twitching member finally got a bit of freedom. He let out a soft whimper, his cheeks turned pink, so he's shy? It didn't seem so the way he kissed me. I looked his member, wrapping my hands around it making him let out a whimper again,

"May I?" I also should take permission if he did. He nodded and I brought my mouth to his tip, leaving a light smooch on it. I knew what I was doing, Thomas was a good practice. He stared at me, breathing heavily. I guess I smirked when I licked his length, then wrapping my mouth on it I started to work on it, with both my mouth and my hand. He controlled for sometimes but he moaned, finally he let himself be vulnerable, he liked what I did.

"I never kn..." He tried to speak as I made it incredibly impossible for him to do so, "never knew... You...ah" see? Incredibly difficult as I fastened my pace, "you could do ... It so... Ah... You're great".

That lifted my confidence and I...

"What the?" As I planned to make him cum in my mouth, I see he has something else in mind, he pushed me down and pinned me to bed.

"Let me return this favour tiny" his heavy voice whispered in my ear. I knew what he meant, I squeezed my thighs together, knowing there's a wet spot in my panties. His voice wasn't helping, rather was making it worse. Thomas was good, but I never knew he, Sherlock Holmes knows how to do to a woman. He got down and almost ripped my panties away. I really don't know whether I'd be able to wear them again after we... It's okay, I sometimes forget my pants at home. I still squeezed my thighs, keeping him from seeing what he wanted to.

"Are you eager?" I teased, I told you, I'm well trained by my fling. He smirked, but his smirk was innocent. My teasing was gone, I felt... I... With Thomas it was just good sex, but I... Felt safe with Sherlock. Never happened before, no one cared for me like he does, no one values my wishes like he does. He gives me more than I ask. And I'm not even talking about material stuffs, he... "My my". He forced my thighs to spread to give him a good view. He looked down and then at me,

"Tiny" he said seductively, "just like you" I was thinking of something sexy to say until he said, "I like it".

And then? He dived like a starved man would for food. His tongue touched my clit giving me shivers, making me moan loudly, thank goodness doctor Watson is married and out of this flat. Otherwise he'd have heard me moaning, as his tongue played with my clit. He didn't stop there, he let his tongue run through my slit, I tried to move upwards in his bed, his big hands grabbed my waist and pinned me in my place. I put a finger between my teeth to keep me from screaming. His tongue felt good, even better and I know now why. He kept on eating me out as I put a hand on his head, grabbing his curls and pulling it slightly. That's how horny I can get, don't go on my looks. He finally pulled away from my pussy, staring right into my eyes,

"Few more licks would've painted your face white Mr Holmes" I said panting.

"Guess you can paint my dick all white" he said stroking his dick. That's a sight I liked, the posh detective and his tiny childish assistant, newspapers called us "the detective and his sunshine", "posh detective and the tiny woman", "detective's childish assistant". Only if they knew, posh detective, cold detective and his childish, innocent, tiny, intelligent girl is doing dirty on his bed. He positioned his tip to my entrance, gave me a look, I nodded, ready to have him in me. And he did push himself into me,

"Ah fuck you're big" the only thing I could scream as his big cock entered me. But that's it, he's in me, I realised something I never did, now I want him, him.. I stretched my arms out, asking him to come to me. He wasted no time and leaned on me, giving me a kiss he stared to rock his hips, slowly and sensually. It felt good, my tall man, his face burried in my neck, his thrusts hitting perfectly. He protected me from bullies, showed me I'm extraordinary to worry about those ordinary people, made me realise he and I are worth better things and ... Now that I know all these, I'm not ever going to stray again... I hope. I'm staying Sherlock Holmes. He took his pace and fuck it felt nice, it felt perfect,

"My go- oh yes" I moaned, he raised his face to see mine,

"Oh, little miss tiny is about to beg" he said to tease me, I remember he told me about Irene Adler wanting him to beg, and ended up begging for protection from him, twice.

"I don't beg, men gives me anyway" I didn't wanted to be a self absorbed person, especially not now, it's just ... Came out. He replied with a sudden thrust that found the spot,

"Ah yes right there" I screamed, arching my back. He stopped, his cock in me.

"What if I don't fullfill your desire?" He does that to people, being rude but never to me. I showed my puppy eyes (which I always do and it works on him)but eventually my mouth spoke,

"Pretty please?" Which apparently means I begged for more.

“I told you, you would eventually start begging.” he said with a smirk and resumed his thrusts at my g spot. I brought him closer and wrapped my hands around him. The most intimate, he and I. I could stay like this forever, but he eventually got up and fucked me faster, the roomed filled with him painting, my moaning and our skin slapping. His cock worked fine in me. And we both knew I was close.

"So am I" he said between his pants. With some more thrusts I let out a scream, eyes closed, I painted his dick white. He pulled out of me immediately, shooting white strings to my belly.

-------

We got up, we cleaned ourselves and sat on his bed with a chessboard.

"Oops got your bishop" I mocked as I replaced his bishop with my pawn.

"Aww poor your queen" eventually he trapped me and got my queen that made me gasp,

"You did not" I, surely am offended by Sherlock's intelligent move, "not my queen, I can never win without it".

"Oh I'm sorry tiny" he didn't seem sorry at all, "be careful next time" his voice was gentle, soft as he explained how I should play and be careful next time, "you got it?"

"Sherlock?" I called him, not answering his question, I can play chess well, now if you play with Sherlock Holmes you're never good enough, but I wanted to ask him something else, "how was it?" He blushed, I'm too bold, I can ask anything without thinking twice, "anything you imagined?"

He nodded fumbling with my queen, "the world is filled with ordinary and notoriety you know tiny" he said looking into my eyes, "reality is often cruel, I... I saw your innocence and potentials in your eyes. You were wasting your time with Thomas, fling is useless, I hoped you'd find something better, worthy of your time, all I could give you is my adventures. You.. you're very intelligent, emotionally. You're an unique, creative thinker as well, you're hard to describe just like me. Can't let those ordinary people bully you, can't let those ordinary men lay finger on you, I couldn't stop Thomas since you consented but I want you to understand, you're here for something better." I just listened to his words, made sense why I always felt no one understood me, sitting here on his bed, wrapped in his white bedsheet with a chess board. If feels safe, he makes me feel... Understood.

"What I mean to say is I'm terrible at expressing emotions, yet I feel them just like you do, I saw you couldn't fit in with your dull boring, bimbo classmates who ultimately back stabbed you. But I see you here, with me, smiling, laughing, feeling safe I hope. This world is dull for people like you and me tiny, these people are cruel, boring for us, you and I couldn't settle down with any ordinary profession or people. We're too similar. The only thing though I believe you have extra is, your innocence. With you, reality is better than my dreams, my imagination. Because my imagination came with the reality of the world that I faced, but with you I saw a different side of it. You're different, innocent, you think differently, you're kind and you don't do things to please people. You don't want to be ordinary, you hate being boring, you're far more me than I am, you're far better me I must say, you're a better Sherlock Holmes, you bring out the better Sherlock Holmes in me, my tiny. This reality is better, and I am not just talking about sex."

Can you believe? His puzzled words did make sense, it's better here just him and me.

"I realised today that you love me" I spoke as a tear fell from my eyes, remembering how everyone treated me and how he does, I'm his better world.

"Glad you know" he said looking down at the board. I didn't know where we were at the game but I moved another pawn of mine.

"Sherlock..." I spoke, "if you wanted someone good, I believe there are many people who are... Good. You know I can't control my temper, I have no filter, I am also pretty childish and-"

"If by good you mean ordinary people, who doesn't have personality, who copies others, brags to you, lies to you, use you" he knows everything I've been through, he knows how people treated me, "ordinary people often thinks they're extraordinary, especially to those who actually are... Rare. You know my university life". I nodded, he was a lonely kid,

"So was my school life" I certainly was a lonely kid in my school, we're both eccentrics.

"We can live in our safe bubble, here, with our stupid adventures if you'd like" he proposed and I loved it, guess my grin proved so,

"And I" I got up and threw my arms around him, "love it".

He hugged me tightly, the sorrow we experienced, all was transformed into a certain joy, he always felt relaxed holding my head to his chest,

"But detective?" I had to be myself and make a proposal of mine, "I like your handcuffs." He looked suspiciously at me,

"Fine, my tiny's wish is my command".

[mebemilena]

Maya's worst student

English is not my first language,  sorry for mistakes. I'm SLOWLY getting back to writing fanfiction.

Female reader, but i think i didn't mention pronouns. It's kinda of an AU

-

summary: You're Maya's worst student.

-

When you decided to learn ASL you thought an online dictionary would be enough. But as you got more into it, you realized that nothing is better than having someone to practice with you. Just as any other language, having a practice partner was way better than just repeating the signs along the lady on the screen of your computer.

You looked for a local partner, someone who lived close to you so you could go out and practice daily vocabulary. The website suggested a nearby professor and you contacted her, finding out she was a cousin of a friend of yours. 

"Maya Lopez", you practiced her name in signs, not wanting to embarrass yourself when you first met. Her profile showed a short video of her introducing herself and welcoming the new students.

Maya was a kick boxing fighter. She was born deaf and worked with her cousin fixing cars and motorbikes. She liked opened spaces and ice cream, and her favorite color was red. 

You could learn all that information from her video.

-

The first meeting was for introduction and practicing the alphabet. You learned her sign and she came up with one for youseslf, as you slowly bonded. A month later, you noticed your vocabulary growing but it was still very limited. Even with a tutor and the online dictionary, you felt like you still had difficulties in learning. 

You and Maya became friends and your teacher-student relationship was mostly put aside. She'd take you for sweets, teaching you the signs to order her favorites, and you'd show her more about yourself, asking how to sign for this and that. 

It was easy to have her around and you enjoyed each other's presence a little too much. You caught yourself thinking about her, planning small dates with her with the excuse of them being extra classes.

"I think I'll ask her out. Like, on a date.", you mentioned to Biscuits, her cousin and your friend, making him smile wildly. "That'd be nice.", he encouraged. "She'd liked that.", he said.

Biscuits was known for giving out too much information without being asked to. He was just that naive. His little confirmation made your heart jump on its cage. You let his words sink into you and gave it deep thought, postponing your meetings with Maya as you debated how to approach her, not noticing it actually put some distance between you two. 

- - - 

Maya sit on the outside of her favorite bakery, playing with a croissant on her plate. You were supposed to meet her one hour ago. At first she thought you were just late, but now it seemed like you were not coming at all. 

She tried texting you, getting no reply. When she was about to put her phone back in her pocket, ready to leave, you arrived approaching her table in a rush. 

She looked at you with a serious expression, crossing her arms in front of her, waiting for you to explain why you were so late and hadn't texted her.

You noticed she was upset and felt guilty. You could have texted her before but you were too busy learning the signs to confess, but now you were so nervous it seemed like you forgot even the letters of your own name.

Maya realized you were not gonna speak so she took the lead. She was tired of fooling around.

"I can't be your teacher anymore. I fell in love with you, this is not professional.", she signed, an unbothered expression on her face. As if she was not opening her heart to you.

You looked at her with lots of concentration, but could only understand a few signs. At times like this, you realized you really needed more practice.

"I know we became friends and i like what we have. But this can't continue.", she went on, still standing by the table. "Whenever we meet, i want to hold you. When we're together i want to be close to you, to feel you. It's okay if you don't feel the same, i just really wanted you to know.", she placed her hands on her pockets, trying to be patient and give you time. it didn't last long.

"Say something!", she pushed, irritated that you were just staring at her this whole time.

"I don't understand.", you signed slowly, disappointed at your own lack of vocabulary.

Maya huffed. She signed to you again but it made no difference. "I don't understand. Sorry.", you repeated. She grew more impatient.

"Download a dictionary and go study more.You sign like shit", she signed, scolding you for being her worst student.

"That i understand.", you replied, your hands moving a bit faster for the signs you were more familiar with.

Maya looked at you and took a deep breath. Again. "You're silly. And beautiful. It feels nice to be around you, i have a lot of fun when we hang out. But we can't be friends.", she finished.

You looked at her confused. "We can't be friends? Why?", you asked, sadness adorning your face.

"I don't want to be your friend. I want to kiss you.", she signed and waited for you to reply, expectation boiling in her insides. 

But you only stared at her confused. "I don't understand."

Maya lost her temper. It was infuriating how she was trying to confess and you were clearly not studying half of what you should. She took you by the collar and kissed you full on the mouth, feeling your lips vibrate as you hummed in surprise. 

"You understand that?', she signed exasperatedly, waiting for you to finally say something.

"I don't understand.", you started. Maya was ready to throw you inside the bakkery through the window but you continued.

"If you kiss me again maybe i understand better.", you signed in reply and her annoyance slowly faded.

-

Check out my redbubble shop:  https://www.redbubble.com/people/MilenaFernandes/shop?asc=u

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[tcwmatchmakingau]

The Beauty In All, Part One

Editor's note: written by @deejadabbles

Pairing: Echo x GN!reader Rating: General Audience (but minors DNI) Summary: Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice- still shame on you, don't take advantage of my kindness! After so many times of falling for people who mock and manipulate your kind nature, you thought that love, true love, was simply not in the cards for you. Thankfully, Right to Love is here to make sure you and a lucky ARC trooper get your happy ending together. A.N: did you know there's giant garden in the senate building that has tons of different nature environments? I just loved the idea of a reader working there and tending all kinds of exotic and dangerous plant life. Tiio is my Corrie Guard OC and Maura is a matchmaker OC that will show up a lot in my future fics for this AU! Word Count: 2853

Warnings: Mentions of past bad relationships and toxic exes.

His eyes were staring at you with that expectant intensity again, just a shade off of his infamous tooka-eyed stare. If it wasn’t for the fact that you were able to hide behind the felucian ficus you were pruning, you probably would have caved instantly.

“I don’t know, Tiio,” you hummed, looking down at an unhealthy leaf, rubbing it between your fingers and trying not to get lost in memories of previous attempts at romance. “Wouldn’t something like a matchmaker make the whole process seem…” you scrambled for a word and settled for, “robotic?”

Tiio’s eyes went wide, “No, not at all! Oh, vod’ika,” he stepped around the ficus, catching you on the other side so he could keep his gaze on you, “If that’s what you’re worried about, I promise it’s not like that!-”

He paused and looked around, making sure his suddenly loud words didn’t draw too much attention. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to be in the garden when he was off duty, but the other guards had gotten too used to him swinging by to chat with you at the end of his shifts to really care. After all, what good was working in the senate building if you can’t enjoy the few luxuries it has?

When he turned back to you, he spoke calmly again, “It’s not like they just take a few basic facts about you and put them in an algorithm or something. It’s done with real people- people who actually care about others finding love and connections.” Tiio ran his hand through the halo of curls around his head, and when he got that far-away look, you knew who he was thinking about, “they want you to find someone who’ll see you for you, who shares values and interests,” then he gave a sigh, a dreamy sigh of content adoration, the kind of sigh only someone deeply in love is capable of making. “Someone who’ll treat you the way you’re supposed to be treated.” That’s when his eyes snapped back to yours, “That’s what I want for you, vod, I think it’s the perfect way to find someone who actually deserves you!”

The determination in his eyes made you smile, Tiio always had a way of making you feel appreciated. Of course, he just insisted that it was ‘returning the favor’, a reference to the event that sparked your friendship in the first place. 

Being the head arborist of the Senate Botanical Garden meant that you saw and interacted with the Coruscant Guard every day. During the war, you had been witness to numerous counts of senators and civilians mistreating clones, and like any decent being, it had infuriated you.

About a year into the war, when anti-clone protests had really reached a head, you had asked the children in your volunteer herbology class to help you with a little project. Armed with a barrow overflowing with flower crowns and letters from the children who made them, you spent a whole day passing them out to the guards as a show that there were some out there who appreciated and supported them.

Many troopers took a shine to you after that, and Commander Fox once mock-complained that his men were always begging for guard posts in the garden because of you, but Tiio had become closest to you in the following time. Now, he was one of your best friends, an amazing listener who always reminded you of your self-worth, he was someone who reminded you why it was so important to stay gentle and kind, even when the galaxy tried to make you hard and jaded.

Tiio knew you, and your past, your heartbreaks and string of lovers who took and took and took from your wealth of kindness without giving you a drop of true devotion in return. And he knew how hard it was for you to trust someone like that again, especially after the last one.

So, if Tiio, who was even more protective of your heart than you were, thought this was a good idea, then maybe…

“I know that look!” Tiio was smiling now, realizing he was winning you over and when you tried to hide among the foliage again he laughed. “Listen, I won’t push you, vod’ika, but I really think this is a good idea. I just know one of my brothers will make you happy, and Right To Love will make sure you find the perfect one.”

You reemerged from the leaves, unable to hide how flatter and flushed his words made you. “Sure you aren’t just determined to prove that clones ‘do it better’ than natborns?” you said in a playful tone, paraphrasing something he and some of your other clone friends had said once while discussing your past relationships.

Tiio had the good grace to look away bashfully, “Maaaaybe?”

A laugh made its way out of you at that, “Alright, Tiio, you win. I’ll schedule my appointment when I get home tonight,” and you laughed again when Tiio whooped in triumph.

Dating and love always had risks, and maybe this avenue of dating wouldn’t be any different, but if that was the case, you weren’t any worse off, right?”

You knew that it might be a slow day for the matchmaking service. One of your days off coincided with a day that most were busy at their standard jobs, which was by design. There was never a day when Coruscant wasn’t bustling at all hours, but days like this made shopping and other chores just the slightest bit easier. 

There was only one other client in the waiting room, a twi’lek male who seemed to be calm in a way you couldn’t fathom right now. You were fidgeting with the questionnaire they had handed you, struggling to concentrate on answering the questions in the thorough, thoughtful way you wanted to.

When a woman’s voice called out the twi’lek’s name you even jumped in your seat. Maker, why were you so nervous?

About that moment is when you caught the eye of the man behind the front desk, he was smiling at you, in a warm and understanding way that said he had seen your kind of reaction often. When the other client disappeared behind an office door, the man spoke up.

“Having trouble with your questionnaire?”

You looked away from him, opting to stare at the form in question instead, “Something like that…”

There was the sound of chair wheels rolling on the floor, then of steps coming towards you. When you looked up he had just put his hand on the back of a chair near you. “Mind if I sit?”

“Oh- not at all, please,” you waved your hand in invitation, and he immediately took the chair.

He was a clone, not too young like some of the “shinies” you'd met in the senate building, but not one of the older ones like Fox from what you could tell. His haircut looked like he needed to trim it every few days to maintain, even if he only wanted to show off the aurebesh tattooed across his head.

“Do you wanna know a secret?” he asked, something twinkling in his eyes. You raised an eyebrow at him but nodded, and he leaned in a little closer to you, “everyone who comes in here is nervous, some are just better at hiding it,” he said in a dramatic, stage whisper.

That made you laugh, and the thing that had your insides in a vice grip seemed to loosen it’s hold just a little. “Oh yeah? You’re just talking about natborns like me, right? Can’t imagine something like this,” you wiggled the questionnaire, “shakes men of your training.”

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” he chuckled, then jabbed a thumb at the wall across from you both, which had the service’s slogan painted in cheerful lettering: ‘Love is a battlefield where we fight for you!’. “Our saying is right, and this is a battlefield we were most definitely not trained for. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to calm one of my brothers down while sitting in these very chairs. And don’t even get me started on easing their nerves before their first dates!”

That time you both laughed together and your shoulders felt lighter now too. “I’m sure you’re very skilled at that- at calming people, I mean, Mr…?” You asked, realizing he hadn’t given his name when you walked in.

“No need for a ‘Mr’, just call me Kix.”

“Well, Kix, your brothers are lucky to have someone like you to help with this new step in life.”

He gave a little shrug, “I hope so. I’ll be able to help them more when I get my degree in counseling.”

“You’re studying to become a therapist?” you couldn’t hide the excitement in your tone. You knew the clone rights and personhood act had a whole section to it regarding mental health resources, which was amazing, yes, but, everything had flaws. Tiio had mentioned that, as well-meaning and helpful as natborn therapists were, there were some aspects of their lives that no one but another clone would ever quite understand. “That’s wonderful, I’m glad your brothers have someone like you working so hard to help them.”

Kix let out a little noise that might have been a cough or a hum or something else. He might have been a little flustered by your comment. If he had been, he recovered quickly and said, “That’s my hope and in the meantime, I volunteer here.” He shook his head at that, trying to get his thoughts back on track. “But we’re not here to talk about my life’s story. I just wanted you to know that it’s okay to be nervous, and, if I could offer some advice?”

“I’d love any you have at this point.”

He tapped at your list of questions yet to be filled out. “Don’t overthink these, okay? I know it’s tempting to get into your head and overanalyze every answer, or worry that you’re not being accurate, but chances are, you know yourself well enough to give us any information we need, without too much trouble.”

You hadn’t realized just how stuck your own breath felt in your chest, until you let out a cleansing sigh at his words. Wow, if Kix was this good now, he was going to make a spectacular therapist. 

“Alright,” you said with a nod, “I’ll get out of my head and just say what feels natural!”

“There you go!”

If Kix had any other advice to give, it was lost when the feminine voice from before called his name from the office and he had to excuse himself. With some (not all, but some) of your nervous energy calmed, you turned your focus back to the file in front of you. At one point the other client walked through again, taking his leave, right before someone else came in for their appointment. Thankfully it didn’t take a horribly long amount of time to finish the rest of the questions and pass it off to Kix.

Now there was just the waiting. 

You didn’t know what the process was, exactly, or even how many matchmakers were there right now, but it felt like time was crawling by as you waited for someone to call you back to the offices. Eventually, you had to distract yourself by playing a game on your personal datapad, and that at least kept some of your wandering, anxious thoughts at bay.

The moment you heard your name, your head snapped up to see a woman standing beside the reception desk. She was dressed in a flowy blouse with wide sleeves and flared pants, giving her a more casual look than you’d expected. Her dark hair framed her face in waves and her smile was warm, reaching her eyes as she said, “I’m Maura, and I’ll be taking care of you while you’re here at Right to Love. Are you ready to start?”

You gave a nervous noise as you stood, “I thought I’ve already started with that whole personality quiz,” you joked.

All Maura did was widen her smile before waving for you to follow her. Her office was towards the back and inside she had obviously made an attempt to make it feel warm and inviting. Soft-looking, romantic pictures hung on the wall and the dark wood of the furniture made it feel more cozy and less sterile. There was also a stuffed tooka and a handmade blanket on one of the guest chairs.

She gave you a chance to settle into the cushioned chair, before she got down to business. “So, I have a few questions I’d like to ask you. While reading your answers, I couldn’t help but notice a certain…pattern. If you’re comfortable with it, may I ask what some of your previous relationships have been like?”

You weren’t sure if she was just that good, or if maybe you were just too obvious. Still, you supposed if she was going to help you find love, she needed to know your experience with it.

“They’ve been…” Kriff, how do you even put it? “Unfulfilling…? No, no, that's not the right word.”

Maura looked perfectly patient as she watched you flounder, “Take your time, my dear.”

Not being able to hold her gaze, you found yourself looking over at the tooka plushie in the seat beside you as you gathered your thoughts. You didn’t want to come off as someone who couldn’t admit their faults, or as if you couldn’t recognize when the blame was yours, so, you chose your words carefully.

“I…tend to attract people who don’t appreciate certain parts of me…” When she didn’t interrupt you, you went on. “See, I always try my best to see the good in people. I always want to give out second chances, I want to give them a space to grow and be happy,  those things are really important to me. I want to be someone who sees the beauty in the world and a lot of my partners have mocked me for that.”

Maura tilted her head. “They think it’s a negative trait, not something to be admired.”

“They think I’m naive-” your eyes met hers again, finally getting some certainty in your tone. “I’m not, though. I refuse to give in to this stereotype that just because someone’s nice and wants to see the good in others, that that means they’re stupid or don’t know how cruel the galaxy is. I do know how cruel it can be, that’s the whole reason I want to see the good, I don’t want to just give up and think there isn’t any good, and become cruel and jaded too. What kind of galaxy does that give us then?” Suddenly, you snapped your mouth shut. “Sorry, I kinda rambled, didn’t I?”

“Not at all. Please, keep going, this kind of honesty is what I want from everyone who comes here!”

A smile to match hers made its way onto your face. “I’ve just had a lot of partners who make me feel like I have to change for them, or like my views on the world somehow made me childish.” You swallowed hard then, smile fading as the memories of fights with your last partner came back to the surface. “Or, they’ve taken advantage of my good nature.” Some relationships left scars, deep ones. “I think I’ve gotten to the point where I’m scared of risking that again. Scared that my next date will be with someone who sees those parts of me, and just sees them as something to manipulate to their advantage.”

You hadn’t noticed that you grabbed the tooka plush until it was in your lap and you were practically hugging it. Maybe that was the reason it was there, talking about love and relationships did mean a certain kind of vulnerability after all.

Maura called your name again, gently, warmly, and you met her patient gaze again. “You’ve obviously been through a lot with past relationships. But I promise you, we do extensive screening here, and I’m going to make sure we find someone who can appreciate those parts of you.” She leaned back in her chair then, looking thoughtful, “I’ll also say that I admire your emotional intelligence. Whoever called you childish obviously doesn’t know the meaning of the word, you’re quite mature, my dear.” She hummed and stared at nothing in particular for a moment, “Give them a space to grow…” she repeated your words to herself almost absentmindedly, then sat up straight again. “Alright, I have a few more questions, but, I’ll say this now: I’m going to make it my personal mission to find someone who will care for you as deeply as you obviously care for others.”

That made your face warm, though you weren’t sure why. It was her job (well, volunteer work) to find you someone to love, but that specific vow made you feel…reassured. Cared for.

Maybe, you really were in good hands here at Right to Love.

[dany-is-my-queen]

A Question of Loyalty IV

Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader, Alicent Hightower x reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: When dragons of green and dragons of black dance, you have to choose the color that suits you best.

“I remember you at their age.” You reminisced those years, easier years in Driftmark where your only care was not to eat too much cake and play with your siblings. Laena was with child again, you meekly rubbed her belly.

“They look just like you.”

“I was always following you around. Just like Rhaena does with Baela.”

“Well, I was the eldest sibling. Still am.” You quipped.

“I have the fresh memory of you on top of Silverwing. You were grounded for a moon and then I was grounded for a moon for letting you flee your chambers.”

“You enjoyed the ride, didn’t you?” She busted a gut.

“I did. It was because of you that I gathered the courage to claim Vhagar in the first place, otherwise I wouldn’t even thought it possible.”

“I’m proud of you, little sister.” She smiled heartily.

“How are things with the Queen?”

“She gave birth to Daeron. I adore that boy. It's almost as if he were mine.”

“You do have a gift with children. And what about Rhaenyra?”

“We are… still sorting it out.” You said vaguely, she was detaching more every passing day.

“You do not sound convinced. Is your heart troubled, Y/N? Don’t close yourself off to me. You can trust me.”

“I know, Laena. It’s… hard. Living with her yet being so far apart.”

“Has Alicent’s infatuation faded yet?”

“Infatuation?”

“I do not claim to know her, we barely shared a few words when I was in the Capital but that woman, sweet sister, that woman sees the stars in your eyes. When at Leanor's wedding, only a fool wouldn't realize her heart was calling out to you.” You regretted your actions on that particular date, you went to her out of desperation, a need to feel something. It doesn't mean that you didn't cherish it, or that you didn't like it. But you played with her strings, and it wasn't something the Queen could just forget.

“Are you still oblivious?” The twins came sprinting in before you could answer to something that you didn’t actually have an answer for.

“Oh my beautiful dragons!” Rhaena perched on your lap whilst Baela put her small arms around your neck. “The Capital would do you wonders. Come visit me soon.”

“Can we, mother? Please?” They pleaded.

“We will have to consult it with your father first.” Laena spoke, you sighed with disdain at Daemon’s mention.

“We want to meet our cousins!”

“In the meantime, perhaps a letter would lift their spirits? You proposed.

“Yes!”

“Daemon is reluctant… he still feels spurned by the King, and by most of the Court.” Laena declared.

“I wonder why.” You mumbled.

“I do miss Laenor, and mother & father. Send them my regards; and all my love.”

“It would be good to have you back, we could arrange a feast in High Tide instead. Send a raven anytime and I will see to it.” She bade you safe travel, you both lingered in each other’s familiar touch.

“I will, I promise.”

When the news of your sister’s passing reached you couldn’t believe your ears, for not so long ago you had seen her… chatted with her. She was alive, she was well. She wanted to come home. She wouldn’t have wanted to perish in some foreign land, she meant for her girls to grow up in Westeros.

Daemon objected, would not let her return. In your soul, accumulating hatred was not something you were proud of, blaming someone for another's death was low when it wasn't deliberate, yet the very sight of him unsettled you. You had to be strong now, for Baela and Rhaena.

Your uncle Vaemond delivered the eulogy in High Valyrian, in which he included pointed remarks about Velaryon blood remaining “pure” while glancing at Rhaenyra’s sons, Daemon was somber at her death, and he started giggling at Vaemond's pettiness in bringing this up now, you paid no mind to your uncle. You glared at Daemon, a lack of respect to his wife, to all of your family.

“I don’t want mother to be gone.” Baela was wretched, Rhaena was still crying a river of tears. You wished you could unburden them, bring Laena back and shield them from all dangers in the world.

“She’s going to watch over the two of you, from the Heavens. You will feel her in the sun that warms your skin. Nobody is gone forever, my darling girls. Let the memories remind you how to smile.” You offered them consolation, and they did the same.

Laenor had more cups of wine than you would have preferred. He lamented the fact that he should have brought his sister home when he was still able to spend more time with her. Rhaenys slumped as she read the words written in the letter, you kept each other company until slumber came to subdue your sobs at night.

Rhaenyra was the first to approach you, Laena was her cousin after all and she was sadden for it too. “Laena was well loved by all of us. Your sister was one of a kind.” She dithered to give you a hug, instead she squeezed your shoulder and went to her sons.

Jace was devastated, for Ser Harwin and the late Hand Lyonel had also recently perished in a fire at Harrenhal, "the cursed castle". You may have felt jealous of him for stealing the Princess' heart and time, but there is no denying the role he had played, protecting and coddling Jace and Luke, for which he will always have your respect.

Alicent was determined to deliver some comfort as well, and so she did with an embrace. “My deepest sympathies, my lady.” You dawdled in her arms until the bereaved court was scattered around.

After a long evening at the cliffside courtyard for the wake, The Queen came forward once more, she commanded a view of hopefulness. “I know this is not an appropriate time, mayhaps. But I wish to consult it with you firsthand.” She commented. You cracked a little smile her way.

“Do tell, your Grace.”

“The proposal Rhaenyra presented back in King’s Landing… about marrying Healena to Jacaerys, I will agree to it.” Your eyes growing wider by the revelation.

“Really?”

“I’ll be announcing it tomorrow before departing High Tide. Jacaerys is a gentle boy, he will make an excellent match for sweet Haleana. He’ll treat her with respect and devotion, same with their children. Aegon wouldn’t.” You grippingly nodded, for you knew beyond doubt that Jace would be perfect for her.

“Jace will be faithful to her, and kind.”

“I’m counting on it. She needs someone to look after her.”

**********

You would never have thought the night would turn out the way it did. It is sad, tragic even, that Alicent and Rhaenyra met first, were friends... only to have the bad blood between them intensify.

You knew some of the blame resided on you, and that was even worse. And what was the consequence of it? Aemond was maimed, Luke was beyond frightened of Alicent, she had cut your chest open. Surely Lucerys did not intend to attack him if it was not utterly necessary, and a child's mind acts before it thinks. How was this allowed to happen?

The pitiful thing was that Viserys didn't seem very moved by it, not that you supported mutilation or anything of the sort fell on Luke, however, the King simply doesn't care, those Targaryen children are not loved by their own father, you softened your heart at the most obvious avowal.

Rhaenyra and Alicent had yet again argued about you… The princess was so sure of herself, she thought she had you in the palm of her hand… that you were still that naive girl. And Alicent has begged you more times than you can recall, to speak out loud about the feelings you've been putting aside since that night together. For them to make amends seemed so impossible and it ruptured you. Silverwing helped ease your dismay, you actually talked to her while you were in the clouds, and she harked.

You found yourself heading to the dinner Hall, where Alicent was just finishing breaking her fast, along with Ser Otto.

“How are you, Your Grace?” You took a seat at the grand table, Otto was leering at you and Alicent noticed. He’s never liked you.

“Father, would you give us a moment, please.” He flashed a warning look to her and he exit.

Alicent’s countenance was dimmed. “I do not want this to come as a thunderbolt for you, my lady. I’ve had a change of heart.” You faintly frowned. “I’m announcing Aegon’s betrothal to Helaena, later today.”

“But… what about her and Jacearys? You said-“

"I know what I said, Y/N. It was only a few days ago that I was beginning to be convinced by the match. I trust you fathom that I cannot now allow my daughter to marry the boy. Her brother hurt my son for life, defending him or not, who knows what he could become. Helaena doesn't need something like that near her. My job, my crucial job is to protect my children. I hope you can understand that."

“I.. I do, Your Grace, I do.” You managed to say, shaken by the confession.

“Good. You’ve come to say something?” She was quick to ask.

You realized that the more you let your feelings for her go behind a cloud of smoke, the more you were going to later repent it and the more she’s going to feel rejected by you, so you shaped up the courage and woman up before vocalizing again.

“I have. Alicent, I am sorry for being partial on the matter of the dispute that broke days ago. I am sorry I spoke to you as I did when you came to apologize. You are a mother and I myself cannot know what it is like... the helplessness you felt when the King didn't bat an eyelash for his son. You deserve so much better, and if you let me, I'll make sure those children do not feel unwanted.” You promised her.

“After that night, Y/N, I’m not quite certain the children will agree to that. They feel betrayed. I feel betrayed. But guess it shouldn’t be a surprise, after all, you do favor them. Even if you won’t admit it out loud.”

“Your kids are my family. We share blood.”

“Water is thicker than blood, it would seem.” You knew exactly what she meant with that, it stung all over.

“I don’t wish to be at each other’s throats about it anymore.”

“Then leave.” The Queen coldly chided, you grimaced. You were losing her, you could feel it and you weren’t just prepared to do so.

“Alicent—“

“Do you love me?” She inquired with exasperation, with yearning and anguish making their way to reflect on her articulation.

“I do.” She intended to withdraw her hand but you grasped it firmly over the canteen. “I do love you. I suppose I just… I was too blind to see it, to admit it. I didn't want to imprison you with your own emotions.”

“Rhaenyra claims otherwise.”

“No one is ever enough for her.” Little did the Queen or you knew, that this last part of the conversation was falling directly into the ears of the alluded princess, nor did she retaliate until she made the terrible mistake of glimpsing at you. “Could I be enough for you?” You purred, inches apart you slanted towards the Queen, she greeted the affection with a handful of tears streaming down her cheeks. You wiped them away with your thumbs, and this kiss was not like the ones you’ve shared before, no, this one held meaning, this one felt right.

Rhaenyra could’ve easily interrupted the intimate moment you were having with the Queen, could easily have made a scandal out of it, but instead, she swabbed harshly her own bitter drops, stealthily stormed out and started to feel that excruciating pain she did when you were both fifteen at Dragonstone.

When the intensity wore off, you stood in silence for a long minute, Alicent cupped your face softly. “I'm not saying it's too late for us. I don't think so myself. But I can't do this now. You... you're crazy about her. She's your number one, always has been. I doubt I can ever top that, or earn that place in your heart. How long must I keep biding here to wait for an answer? You will be running after her next time you see her, and I don’t think I can endure it any longer."

You couldn't swear on your knees that your feelings for the Targaryen were going to fade into the dark forever, because that would probably never happen, so you spoke no more, knowing it would make no difference. You knew that what you felt for her was genuine, pure.

**********

Alicent publicly announced that Aegon and Haleana would marry before autumn’s end. Her reputation was freshly tarnished, yet she stood with authority, and Viserys did not oppose the union. Aegon, discontent with it, sweet Haleana ethereal as only she knew how to be. Aemond increasingly filled with hatred, convinced more than ever that his nephews were nothing more than bastards whose claims were mendacious.

“I wish you could come with us, aunt Y/N. You protected Luke, mother and me. The only one who has done that is Ser Harwin and now he’s gone. Those people are dangerous. We would protect you the way you did us.“ Jace said, worry in his voice, you crouched and washed away his concerns.

“The knight you would be, my darling prince. I won’t go to King’s Landing, I’ll be staying home where I belong. These are hard times, but you know what? We must all be united. Do not let loathing grow thick inside of you.“ You remarked when Luke joined you.

“He hates us now, they all do.” That shadow was looming weighty on their heads, they could spot it.

“They do not. You are decent young princes. An apology is not enough, it cannot bring back the eye of your uncle, but it will demonstrate you didn’t mean ill will. That it doesn’t make you superior.”

“He didn’t apologize to Baela and Rhaena—“

“Prove you’re different, sweet boy.” Little Luke looked up at you, and nodded.

“I will, aunt. I’ll apologize to him.”

Subsequently, the ship set off where Alicent and Viserys were on, and the three Dragons, Sunfyre, Dreamfyre & Vhagar carried the kids on their backs.

You were lounging on the grassland, feeling the breeze on your skin. You didn't want the "Rogue Prince" to overstay in your father's seat, he was a walking insult. And you wondered if you should go after Alicent - have you lost her without even having her?

“Penny for your thoughts?” Laenor laid beside you, and it reminded you when you were six and he was five. The flash of his grin coming to you in a warm wave. “Look Y/N! He’s going to be the largest dragon in the world! Even larger than the Black Dread. But he’ll be more beautiful.”

“I miss the old days.”

“So do I. Wish I could relive them. When the three of us took wing, we were the rulers of the sky. We were invincible. We took different roads”

“But in the end, we never changed. We remained true to ourselves, to each other. Little Laena is resting now with our ancestors, we will meet with her again.”

“I know we will. I never laid with her Y/N, I could never do that to my sister. Not when I knew she was the woman you loved.” This was hurting Laenor, because he loved you deeply, and he knew this would devastate you, he also knew how strong you were. He couldn’t live like this anymore, he dithered, he did.

“You are a good man, with a heart of gold, but you’re even a better brother.”

“You possess that heart of gold, Y/N. You are the very best of all of us. You are an honorable woman. Never lose that spark.” Something was.. amiss, you should’ve peered closer.

You cursed yourself a thousand times for not having been smart, for not having delved into Laenor's mind, for not having clung to him and protected your little brother from all dangers, because the atrocity that occurred hours later paralyzed you. They found his corpse shoved head-first into the fireplace, horrifically burned beyond recognition.

After a week or so, you were able to digest it. Having not eaten for days, Silverwing's appetite diminished as well. Rhaenyra left your home for the Island shortly after his demise. You learned Daemon went with her…

Ser Qarl was the apparent murderer, he had fled High Tide, but he cared about your brother, he was smitten by him since they met, you were there that day. It didn't make the slightest sense.

Rumors began to spread, the whole kingdom learned of Daemon and Rhaenyra's marriage. You'd be lying if you said you didn't see it coming, but how convenient was it to eliminate the princess's husband, so that fucker could take her as his wife? Both your parents were convinced that he had something to do with his death, and they had no doubt that she was an accomplice.

You at first refused to believe it was true, she wouldn't be capable of such a thing, of hurting him, and hurting you. But she had done it a hundred times before, time and again as the breaking point came crawling into your brain, the idea that it was possible broke through the heavy grief and mourning. Laenor would never leave Seasmoke behind, never leave your parents, never leave you to bear another loss...to consider it made you feel sick to the bone.

Rhaenyra didn’t choose you, she chose the ugly path. She chose her uncle, somebody else, over you, again. The beginning of the end of your love for her.

Tagging: @loveislove4 @evattude @lethal-minds @sophiexoxsblog

[randonauticrap]

A Letter to Myself ~ Chapter 1

Series Description: A 1st person POV Isekai Ikemen Prince adventure told by me, your narrator. Not all true stories are believable, and not all true stories are real. I have changed my name and the names of anyone who inspired these characters.

Chapter Description: Liliana goes to sleep after another disappointing experience with love, and wakes up inside a very strange dream.

Chapter Title: Dream Truths

Triggers: Negative self talk; vague mention of fatphobia

There are few things in this world I love more than singing, sleeping, and daydreaming. They’re the three things that can always reset my anxious mind, and push out all forms of mental clutter, if only long enough for me to focus on the task at hand. That particular evening, the task at hand was wishing that my situationship (who, after I admitted I had feelings for earlier that day, told me he didn’t actually feel that way about me, and saw me only as a friend) had instead been one of the dashing princes in my favorite otome game. I think everyone could agree that they would never. But the quiet of the night threatened to envelop me nonetheless; this wasn’t the first time I’ve been fooled by pretty words and flirtatious kindness. It wasn’t even the second or third, and I’ve begun to wonder who the real problem is. Am I simply misinterpreting this behavior? Was my perception truly that terrible? I didn’t think so, since I could usually nail down just about anyone I met: what their struggles were, why they acted the way they did, and so on and so forth. In fact, it was one of the things I was known for in my friend circles - being a mind reader. 

But for some reason, when love was involved, my radar was off; or broken; or just flat out missing altogether. It was something I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember; to be loved the way I love, but fate seemed to stand against me in that regard. What if I just wasn't meant to have my own love story? My heart clenched at the thought that plagued me over and over. It was no mystery that my body type was not one that was so popularly celebrated in many circles, and I'd experienced my fair share of backlash over it through the years. And while, thankfully, many women in this day and age were standing up and speaking out about it, I still received far too many judgmental eyes on me when I dared to eat in public; didn't matter if it was 4pm and it was the first thing I'd eaten since I woke up at 7am. 

So it should come as no surprise that the little voice in my head - that damn goblin - often added "overweight" to the list of qualities that left men… wanting, in regards to myself. But the laundry list was miles long by now, and not even the newest Whirlpool could scrub it clean. Besides, who could afford that much laundry detergent? Certainly not me. Not in this economy. 

Usually, I could stir up some comforting scenario with the handsome first prince and lull myself to sleep in his imaginary arms, but the trick wasn't working tonight. God, of course it wasn't. I had to be up in around 4 hours to go to rehearsal, and sleep had been evading me almost as much as men did. "Is sleep a man?" I pondered aloud to my quiet bedroom. "Would make a hell of a lot of sense." I grumbled under my breath as I reached for the Melatonin gummies on my nightstand. I popped two in my mouth and chewed begrudgingly until the almost-fruit tang flavor was gone from my mouth, then let my head fall unceremoniously back onto my pillow with a dull thud. 

Now my neck hurts. Of course it does.

I tossed and turned for awhile longer, praying the Melatonin would do its work, and at last, I felt the gentle tug of sleep calling the deep recesses of my brain. Thank God, now I can go see Jin. It was the last coherent thought I had before diving under, my subconscious brain taking over, my desires in tow. 

…

…..

…….

Birds. 

I was hearing birds. Is this a dream? Those birds don't sound like the birds outside my window normally do. Those sound like… what the hell is that? A weed wacker? It isn't Friday. Is it? This has to be a dream, there's no way I missed two days; I've slept for long periods of time, but never 48 hours straight, long. That's like, coma long. God, I hope I haven't peed the bed. 

I cracked one eye open slowly, noting the lack of crust around it. Thank God, I'm finally re-hydrated. I'd been dehydrated for pretty much my entire life, through no one's fault but my own, and I'd always wanted to be one of those girls who could tote around a cute water bottle the size of a milk jug and drink it all in one day. But alas, God had other plans when he made me. Maybe he was distracted, I don't know. But I had been trying to take better care of myself lately, so I guess it finally paid off! Hopefully this means no more headaches, and-

I opened my other eye to stare up at my ceiling. I wonder what ti- wait. "M'kaaaay, maybe I do have eye crust." I mumbled, rubbing my eyes with my index fingers. Cause that's not my ceiling. Have I gone blind? Oh God, am I blind?

I opened my eyes again and flicked my gaze around the room quickly. Okay, not blind. A relieved sigh petered out of my lungs, but it only lasted a second before I cast my eyes around the room again, in earnest this time. This is not my room. My head swiveled left; right; left again. Okay, so I'm dreaming. Damn it, I probably still have eye crust. I shook my head in disappointment as I sat up in bed. The room I was in was small; tiny, even in comparison to mine, which was saying something. There was a single painting on the wall perpendicular to my right, hung precariously on the dusty beige wall. It looked like a lush green forest with a river running through the center. Pretty. 

My eyes continued their journey right and landed on a small, rustic looking side table with an oil lamp on it, along with a well-worn book. On impulse, I picked up the book and stroked its spine while I read the words on the cover. "Liliana's Adventures" Funny. That's my name. Could my brain really not come up with anything better than this for a title? Jeez, and I call myself a writer. A sound between a scoff and a laugh escaped my lips as I set the book back down on the side table and turned my head to the left. 

There was a small table with two rickety wooden chairs and what looked like a sewing project neatly folded on the tabletop. Okay, is my brain trying to tell me to pick up a new hobby or something, or did I watch too much Lord of the Rings last night? I noticed that there was a simple mirror on the wall across from me that reflected the bland beige wall above my head, the door to the tiny room, and a single window, notched in the downward slope of the ceiling to my left. I didn't understand. Why did my subconscious bring me here of all places? And where even is here? I mean, it has to be a dream. I just "woke up" and the inside of my mouth doesn't even feel gross, and there's no way that's real. 

I pulled myself out of the small, stiff bed and padded over to the window, my feet bare on the chilly wooden panels. The most beautiful garden I had ever seen in my life sprawled out before my eyes way down below. Bursts of yellow, white, pink, and red lined a maze of pathways through the middle, and showcased the gorgeous flowers in bloom. Most of them looked like roses. Wow… now I understand the weed wacker. 

I could get lost tracing each walkway with my eyes, and apparently I did, because I didn't hear the angry footsteps stomping up to the door of my room until it burst open and an irate woman screeched through it. "Leisel, quit your dawdling, we are due in the kitchen in five minutes!" The door slammed shut just as suddenly as it had opened and I jumped hard, nearly knocking my head on the sloped ceiling in the process.  "Who the hell is Leisel?"

~

Tags for the Lovelies: @aquagirl1978 @rhodolitesroseforclavis @ikehoe @queengiuliettafirstlady @maries-gallery @nightghoul381 @judejazza @xbalayage @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @alvieeru @aria-chikage @tele86

[verishere]

For the 10 facts thing, how about Freya :3 I don't know enough about her

First, something I made recently for her: she's a weaver! She had always been known for her tapestries, and weaving is her Skill (a concept in world that i need to make a post about at some point).

Leading from that, before she and Liam confessed but both were already in love, she tried to make gifts for him: knowing he is a Nulilil, renowned for forgework and forgework was his craft, she tried to forge the gifts herself. Which went exactly as you'd expect, given that she has never before then lifted a hammer in a forge in her life (it took Liam, after they confessed, to make her a gift by weaving which also went exactly as you'd expect to tell her that no, he would appreciate a gift she is actually good at making, rather than something he'd make for himself).

She designed pretty much every avian creature. Very few were designed by her siblings, most she created both the aesthetics and the functional design for.

Given her skill now at understanding flight, aerodynamics, etc, the fact that every (true) aeternal has fully functioning wings that allow them to fly about twice as fast as you could sprint, as well as hover perfectly still at will, all while moving relatively slowly (imagine angelic wings) pisses her off to no end, despite that she helped to create that as well. Those things don't follow aerodynamics, dammit! Too late Freya, you and your siblings made this bed, now lie in it.

I don't think I've ever described her physical appearance? This fact will just be as well as I can describing how she typically looks. First, my pfp is her as well as can be made in the picrew in my bio. She typically wears some kind of fruit, berry, etc. as earrings (not plastic, literally the plant). Her hair is straight and smooth, typically cut to her shoulder blades. She wears dresses usually, that either go down to her ankles or knees, and are either sleeveless or sleeves that stop at the elbows. Her hair is almost never adorned with anything more than braids, if that. Usually she let's it flow free. She is 5'9", or 175 cm. She never wears high heels, usually wearing open toed slip on black shoes. She wears anklets and bracelets almost all the time, though no rings. She does wear a necklace at all times, one Liam forged, made from golden chain with a crystal at the end of it, inside which contains the last of the True Sun's light, trapped within in stasis (yes its littereraly just a silmaril but less bright and no one swore a death oath over it please don't sue me).

She once did try to wear high heels, but she did so for the first time in Blonicku (where high-heeled shoes were invented) before going out in public, and fell because she didn't know how to wear them. She has since always fucking hated them, irrationally making up excuses to never try to wear them again despite that the first time she seemed eager to try them and complimented Nrolin on hers. Apparently, they are now pointless and ugly performances.

She is a light reader, shunning the stereotype that all Aeternals are book worms with massive personal libraries (like her husband). An average year sees her reading at most five books, but usually three on average. She hardly writes at all.

I have a meter for all my characters over how much of a prankster they are. From 1 to 10, or Lopunil to Aegir for better words, all of my characters fall somewhere on this. Freyas a three. She hardly ever plans out tricks on anyone, mostly just teasing people in the moment. Her greatest trick (with planning) was making a song where every word began with a specific letter, all of which spelled out (translated) "What rank should he deserve, the land slug that he is? Why do I sing his compliments? He is a rude fool." The song was complimentary of this one lord of the Mark who hadn't done anything illegal so he got to keep the mark but that all her family hated for how uptight he is, yet they couldn't publically say that without looking bad.

As hinted before, singing and songwriting is one of her talents, which she was almost going to choose as her Skill instead of weaving. When Nerquam chose singing as her Skill she chose weaving.

In the first blessed years, her relationship with all the Elders was more like a mentor and teacher, not parent, despite how the Elders were created. Eventually she was friends with many of them. It was till the battle of the sun was over and she was traveling with Liam to Blonicku that she learned of the concept of a monarch, which had apparently been based on her and her siblings. She will always consider the typically idea of a monarch a useless performance and actively refuses to behave like a queen, despite that she is one of the two highest queens in the world. Granted, her refusal to behave like that is something all her siblings have in common, save Nirum but he doesn't count.

[theonekrafter]

hello! i love all your writing so much - your characters are super unique and refreshing, i was so excited when i saw your new naruto si/oc. do you have any fic recs (any fandom)?

TY!! i dont really make rec lists often but here's some now!

(sidenote, i keep almost ALL of my bookmarks public on ao3, so if you ever want to see what i'm reading you can probably find it there)

I'll just stick to naruto recs for now!

Naruto

Stretch, Fold, Expand by SenjuMizusaya

Kazue has not always been Kazue, but this does not make her less of a Nara, or less of a kunoichi, or less of a sister. Only less gullible. (Semi-SI into the Narutoverse.)

self insert into shikamaru's sister. there's only three chapters right now, but the clan political intrigue is super promising, as well as addressing a lot of canonical sexism.

Fallow Fields by zarinthel

For every rising star that the shinobi world produces, a hundred other geniuses are chewed up and spit out. Seiko crawls out of that grinder, only to find that she still has the rest of her life to face head on.

another si that is named seiko. completely embarrassed that i used the name as well without realizing, especially since this fic is so excellent and i would hate to cramp on the author's style.

a fic that is more focused on a slice of life story than an endless power grind, though the si does get a chance to be badass and awesome.

Glass Marionette by Haunted_Frost

It takes time to process the memories, but by the time Kankuro becomes a student at the Sunagakure Academy, he's certain he knows: he's in the Naruto universe, a village away, and he's standing next to a ticking time bomb at all times. One that he has an unfortunate urge to hug and tuck in for bed. Well, at least he gets to indulge in his inner theater kid with the whole puppet thing. That's a bonus. If he can just manage to wait out the worst of it, he might even become strong enough to make a difference in the upcoming war.

si into kankuro methodically destroys canon and makes a happy ending for people in under 100k words. marvelous, gay, and it's suna centric.

If 3 Reincarnated Ninja Were Fighting a Moon Goddess and One of Them Got Killed With a Rock, Would That Be Fucked Up Or What by mordox

Three random idiots were transmigrated into bodies of Konoha toddlers during the kyuubi attack. Each thinking they’re the only one who remembers a past life, they each try to hide it. Coincidentally, they are all assigned to Hatake Kakashi’s genin team since they were only average academy students and don’t have parents to complain about their children being failed via bell test, which happened with the last three teams he was assigned. What follows is three fools trying to hide their knowledge from each other and their jounin-sensei while desperately trying to reach chunin fast enough that Kakashi can teach the actual team seven, and a jounin-sensei who is very confused by his three genin but has so few (read: zero) points of reference for normal twelve year olds raised during peacetime that he can’t tell if they’re weird or not.

fucking hilarious. i'm not usually into multi-inserts but oh my GOD these three are disasters, and kakashi is just so confused. a series of assumptions from all three PLUS kakashi convincing them all that they're Normal.

"i sure hope no one realizes i just used the acronym PTSD, as in the english letters in the middle of my japanese sentence." "oh, i didn't know PTSD was a term in naruto. wow."

it's like watching a train wreck in slow motion. you can't look away.

The Scorpion and the Frog by zarinthel

Maybe the fate of Uchiha Itachi and the Uchiha Clan could have been changed if Itachi had just had one more family member he could trust -- someone as powerful, invested in Konoha, and devoted to the clan as him. Someone with a little extra knowledge up her sleeve. Unfortunately for Itachi, the Uchiha's abysmal luck with siblings has given him… Kaeru.

another zarinthel fic bc they are a super skilled and i appreciate them. completed fic. a genuinely good subversion of usual si tropes while still making the si op and kick ass. she's just uh. a little mentally ill about it. the entire time. and we love that for her.

THAT'S ALL FOR NOW! i hope you enjoy these!

[bigratsdeservebigpats]

Scavenger Hunt

Riddle x GN Reader/Yuu

I was possessed and had no choice but to write this or DIE

Also I made each of those fucking riddles by HAND AND IT WAS SO MUCH EFFORT FOR NO REASON

cw: none, just fluff :)

Treasure hunts, Riddle thought, were wastes of time. The idea of choosing to embark on a wild goose chase, for whatever reason, just didn’t click for him. Its supposed thrill never sat well with him, because who voluntarily gave themselves stress? If they found time to fool about, they certainly had time to do something more productive.

Yet on the rarest of occasions, today his schedule lay barren. It wasn’t as if it was the only box empty on the calendar, but his students seemed to be more than willing to take slices off his workload. Even Ace and Deuce, the troublemakers they were, forced bright grins, crisp uniforms buttoned and collars flat. Something was definitely up. 

Trey, as reliable as he was, could only smile placidly. Knowing the housewarden, the sudden shift in everyone’s attitude would only cause needless worry; yet Yuu insisted that ‘he’ll love it!’ This little surprise took days to plan, with them dipping in and out of the dorm’s halls to plan this one perfect day, and a small card along to go with it. He wasn’t so rude to open it, but even if he wasn’t one for theatrics, there were a few guesses on what was written. Waving the white and red envelope, he adjusted his eyeglasses. “Riddle, the Prefect left you a note, if you want to read it.”

“Oh, so this was their doing.” Even if the vice housewarden needed glasses, he could plainly see the way Riddle’s face softened, as if it was obvious now. Gloved digits plucked the letter delicately, admiring the rosy sticker decor that kept it sealed. Letters should always be sealed with hot wax and a stamp, then opened with a proper letter opener outwards from the body; but he’ll forgive their minor blunder, on account that Yuu didn’t own any wax or stamps. Perhaps he would gift them some, so such an oversight wouldn’t happen again. The letter itself was penned on thick stationery, velvet under his touch and adorned with the same glossy rose stickers. 

To my Rose Ruler, 

Good morning! I hope this letter finds you in good spirits. You must forgive my informality, I’ve never actually written a letter, so this is kind of embarrassing for me. I’m not sure what to write, and I pen down all the words that come to mind first, like how I wonder what you look like reading this. Are you confused? Perhaps even smiling? 

Just as they mentioned it, Riddle felt an unfamiliar tug in his cheeks. As if it was Yuu that stood before him instead of his vice housewarden, a fist obscured the pink in his face as he cleared his throat. Grey eyes continued to read their letter, quietly noting their astuteness. 

I have a feeling it’s the former, so I will fess up – If you can find me, that is. Below is a riddle for you, 

I hide amidst friends   Around twists and bends. Bring me my favorite Riddle, I wait for you in the middle.

 Yours Truly, 

Yuu :)

Ah, a puzzle, was it? The riddle was simple enough, cheeky even, just like something Yuu would write. ‘Around twists and bends’ and ‘I wait for you in the middle’ had to reference the maze. The Rose maze, of course. ‘Hiding amidst friends’ was obviously a play on the phrase ‘rose buds’. But the third line made his heart jump. Their ‘favorite Riddle’, could it really be… him? No, well yes! He couldn’t just overthink like this, but between the riddle on the paper and the Riddle holding the paper, he would obviously be the favorite! Or so he hopes. 

It would be smart to bring the letter just in case. 

When busy, he would find moments of peace between the pages of work, where his gaze fixes on a single sliver of blue sky. When he was younger, perhaps there was some compulsion to enjoy its beauty, but on the day he once longed for, he couldn’t spare a single glance. Because they were waiting for them, right where they said they would. 

“Hey there, Riddle darling.” Their grin infectious, accompanied by a wave of a hand so carefree. “Let me guess, you solved it in less than a second?”

“I… yes, but to your credit, you did stump me on a part.” Riddle cleared his throat, a habit that seemed to pop up just about every time Yuu was mentioned. “But I’m here, So if I may…”

“Yes yes, apologies for my assumptions, but you’ve looked especially stressed these past few weeks, and I wanted to give you a day of break, just a little fun or something.” Another wave of the hand, dismissal instead of greeting, yet with magic (or some directional illusions), a slip of paper appeared between their fingers, cardstock, was it? 

“Is this… a treasure hunt of sorts?” He raised a brow, eyes trained on their bright smile. 

“Well, treasure isn’t exactly the word I would use to describe it, to be honest. More like a Scavenger hunt, but here’s your next clue. Don’t solve this one in one second please-”

Quieter than ghosts, 

A building with the most stories it boasts.

Where knowledge flies higher than birds,

In a pile of words.

“The library.” This one was eons easier than the last, and the first was already pretty simple. All he needed was the first two lines to solve it, but seeing their expression, should he have at least pretended to think about it? 

Recognizing their plight, Yuu only shrugged. They didn’t look as distraught as Riddle worried, thank goodness. “Well, I must have made it too simple. Do you want to hold onto the card?” 

“I don’t think I will need it.” While he found the concept a little ridiculous, he would never just abandon their hard work. The card is situated in his pocket, right beside the magic pen, where all important things go. 

The library fell near the center of the school grounds, a bit of a walk to be honest, but he never minded it. Now it feels just too long, and far too quiet. Was he supposed to say something? Anything, really. As unbothered as Yuu looked, perhaps they found him boring? No, who would go out of their way to do all this for someone they found boring? “Prefect, I appreciate all that you’ve done, but you never had to go to these lengths.”

They eyed him, and at first he worried that he hurt their feelings. No one wanted to be told that their work was a waste! He should know this, beyond anyone else! Yet an angel of kindness they were, smiling at him like he was the silliest person in the world. “Oh you, I never had to, but you make me want to do all these things and more, Riddle.”

Ah. Well doesn’t he feel tweedledee and tweedledumb. A hand moved to cover his mouth again, cloaking the red of his cheeks under the guise of clearing his throat. They must think he’s getting sick with how often he does that. He looks over at them again, feeling like his heart was in full bloom by just how sincere they looked. Best to not tell him just how red his ears are. 

The library included several rooms to house different sections, but only the west wing had the floating books mentioned. Regal candlelight chandeliers lit the hall in a dim green, pillars of wood breaking away to the quiet abode of the history section. Yet nothing seemed different. Well, it shouldn’t if there was something he had to find, but he didn’t know what that was, it was a situation worse than finding a needle in a haystack. “This was the answer, wasn’t it?”

Yuu only shrugged, fingers running over the leather backings of old texts. A sly smile crossed their face, and he knew that oddly enough, he got bested. “You have the clue, there's no saying you can’t look twice.” 

Fishing the card from his pocket, once more grey eyes cross over the words. On closer inspection, certain letters were written over twice to stand out. L I G H T. Light? What could that have to do with anything? A quick glance at Yuu gave not a single hint, and he approached one of the small wall-mounted lanterns. Hesitantly, he held the card up to the flame, and he peeked once more, relieved to see their smile. 

Through the paper, two tones glowed. His heart burned a flame of pure exhilaration at the sight. Another rose emblem, carefully cut out and sandwiched between two pieces of paper so that it wasn’t noticeable unless… Red hair whipped to the side as he scanned the books floating in the air. This intoxicating delight, it felt as if it was smothering him in anticipation, bursting with an audible gasp as he finally found the one book emblazoned with the very same rose. He could hear his heart in his ears as he fumbled with his magic pen, desperate to get his prize.

“You’re breezing through these way too fast, Riddle.” Yuu finally spoke up, obviously delighted to see his excitement. “It’s a storybook about the Queen. You said you’ve read all the classics, and not a lot else, so I thought… I thought you might enjoy it.”

There was a hint of hesitance, he could recognize that same careful tone that his students would use. But he adored this little gift, his first storybook, given by the one that cared so dearly. “Yes, I… Thank you. I will be sure to treasure it.” 

Inside the first page, another paper slipped out. Much thinner so there were no more light tricks, but that was fine, he was having a ball. Even now he could still feel the endorphins blazing through his body. More? Really? Could his heart handle all this thrill? 

Three face four;  

Proud and tall, 

Look above all.

The one you’re under

Will it hold the next clue I wonder?

This one was far vaguer than the last. But certainly not impossible. Certainly not, once reread the first line. 

“The seven statues on Main Street?” Already beelining to the door, Yuu trailed behind, barely keeping up with the surprising speed of the dorm leader. “Is it by the statue of the queen?” 

“Well I can’t tell you, that ruins its purpose, doesn’t it?” 

Thank goodness it was just outside, even if the stretch felt longer than what could possibly be normal. The queen’s statue stood closest to him, carved stone echoing the same face present in all history books. Her chin tilted up towards the sky, bathed in the warm sun, yes, this had to be the answer. Just beside her stone figure, a small table cloaked under a red cloth with porcelain tea cups and where a slice of strawberry tart sat under a glass dome, along with the next clue. “Prefect? Is the tart for me…?”

They had to jog to stay with him, folded over to catch their breath from the unforeseen exercise. For someone with short legs, he sure was fast. Not that they would ever mention it aloud. “Well gee, I don’t think I would have made anyone else a tart, Riddle.”

“You made it?” Perhaps it was rude to sound so surprised; Trey bakes sweets all the time for Unbirthday parties and the sort, but this was different. Yuu wasn’t a patisserie, nor were they obligated to bake for him. “Yourself?”

“Yes, with lemongrass tea and two sugars to wash it down. Rule 393.”

It was actually rule 339, but he couldn’t even bother to tell them so, using his fork to cut off a corner of the crust and bring the slice of tart to his lips. That buttery and crumbly crust, the creamy filling that tasted just slightly too sweet, and a delicious fruit glaze, he almost wished all tarts tasted just a little too sweet. 

The last card sat pretty, pinned under a teacup and a cube of sugar. Lifting it from under the two, he brushed off a few sugar granules to read its contents. Thank goodness he wasn’t drinking his tea at the same moment.

I live behind your magic pen, some say I am made of gold.

I give you this, something you cannot hold. 

I wish this game would never end

But I think it’s time to say, I like you more than a friend.

Again and again, he read those four lines, as if the light was playing a silly trick on him. Each time he was sure that something would be different, but he knew the answer. Both answers. 

“It’s heart,” Riddle mumbled, clearing his throat louder than he ever had before. He couldn’t look Yuu in the eye, adamant that something within him might explode if he did. With how red his cheeks were, perhaps something already did. “And, I also, like you… More than I can admit.” 

“Yea, I know.”

[tasavvur-e-jaana]

A Gondi Christmas

yet another old fic. @ronaldofandom aap bohot mehnat karvaate ho. hope you remember what you commented :))

//

Everything seemed to be in order. Just like he had discussed with Ram. But the gond warrior was thrumming with nervous energy. What if she doesn’t like it? What if it is not up to the mark? What if she finds it offensive? She must have had grand and opulent and intricate events before this. What if this seems childish and dull and bland in comparison? I should have spent more. If not monetarily, then in efforts. Ughh! This is not where it is supposed to be! Bheem walks around and adjusts the ornaments for a thousandth time. 

“Annayaa! Leave it be!” came an irked voice from behind him. Lacchu dragged him by his arm outside. “You’ll spoil it now if you fuss about it more! Trust me. She will love it.” The younger man assured him with a gentler tone. Bheem looked at his friend. The one who had helped him with the decor. The one who had actually listened to Ram’s instructions for the first time and followed them to a T without making any fuss just because he knew how much this meant to Bheem. 

Bheem smiled at him, a beaming smile that Lacchu reflected without missing a beat. He wrapped his arm around Lacchu’s shoulders, his closest friend, his little brother. He had heard about this strange winter solstice festival that the British celebrated for the first time from Jenny, not catching much but the word Christmas had been etched in his mind. As she was rambling about how it was, what people normally did, what they ate, cogs had been turning in Bheem’s mind. It had been almost nine months that she had been staying with them. 

A self-imposed exile she had chosen for herself after the whole debacle, no longer wanting to ally with her own people in any form. Wanting to be a part of the revolution- she had cited her reasons, and her usefulness if she were to join them. She could give them insight into the workings of the Empire, teach the revolutionaries their language so that they could fit in better and how she would be an asset to them and not a liability. Deep down, they both knew it was more than that though, and Bheem would have been ecstatic about her living with him anyway. However, he also knew Jenny was remorseful and a girl with self-respect. She would hate for herself to impose on the tribe, needing a purpose like everyone else who had joined the cause in one way or another. There was a deep-seated need in her to be accepted in the tribe, to be useful in every way possible. 

Who was Bheem to deny her that? Who was Bheem to her anyway? Yes, they were friends, and yes he wanted more. But did she? Lacchu had called him a fool and threatened to throw a stone at his thick skull when he confessed his doubts about it to him. His exact words being, “How can a person as smart as you be so dumb? How can you, someone who can spot a tiger hiding yards away can not see her love for you? TELL HER! Do something nice for her in this Christmas festival she celebrates and TELL HER!!! Or I’ll hit you with the same tree over your head.”

Thus, had begun thorough research on Bheem’s part about what the festival was with help of local library resources from the city and a long series of multiple letters exchanged with Ram followed by a week of intense preparation in the time when he was visiting a few days before December 25th. Through all this, Lacchu had been a dedicated assistant, pitching in the most amazing ideas. Who knew the guy was a genius in arts and craft? 

“Thank you, Lacchu!” the curly haired man turned, holding Lacchu’s shoulders in a firm grip and squeezing once. “Really! This wouldn’t have been possible without your help. You’re the best chinna anyone can ask for!” His eyes grew misty as Bheem showered him with compliments. 

The whole process of preparation had helped Lacchu grow closer to his anna. His best friend. Since a while, it had been as if there was a chasm of formality between them that had been growing wider, especially after the entry of new people in Bheem’s life. Like Jenny. And Ram. Although Lacchu garnered nothing but love and respect for Jenny unlike his unscathed loathing towards the latter, he had still been aloof. More and more with each passing day. Of course he never let any of his emotions surface, he didn’t want Bheem to feel guilty or even sad, but it did hurt that the one person he considered his best friend, the one who had been his ideal, the one who had always been with him almost 24x7 from childhood: he now had to share with others. People who mattered to Bheem more than Lacchu now, the younger man was cast aside. 

Lacchu blinked away the tears on the verge of forming beneath his lids and shook the melancholic thoughts away. Christmas was supposed to be about joy, and today was not about him. He shooed Bheem away, “Now go! Bring her in before she suspects anything. I don’t know how much longer Malli can keep the suspense and stall her class seeing as she herself is throbbing with excitement more than any of us.” A smile gracing his lips at the retreating back of anxious Bheem. 

…

“Bheem! Please remove the blind-fold now.” Jenny urged as she was led in via a soft grip on her arm by the gond man. “What is it that you wanted to show me anyway? I was in the middle of my last evening class!” She chastised him for rushing her so. 

“Just a few more steps please. And stop being so dramatic! It was the end of your session and you know it.” Bheem retorted. 

A couple more steps and Jenny felt the warmth of the hut. It was not cold in these parts in the winters, especially not to her tastes, but there was a nip in the air tonight. The feel of grass beneath her slippers was gone, replaced with hardened ground. She felt Bheem let go of her, the black fabric sliding away from her eyes in a swift motion. She blinked a couple of times, her eyes adjusting to the light. 

Her imagination had been running amok as to what it would be that Bheem wanted to surprise her with. And the whole blind-fold thing was as juvenile as it was unnecessary in her mind but enchantingly endearing because it was Bheem. She could not refuse his doe-eyes and that puppy face when he had requested her to comply and that it was important to create a dramatic effect. Even Malli was hopping up and down, gushing about how she would love it. However, in the wildest of her imaginations, she had not been prepared for the sight that greeted her. 

It was her hut, alright. The room had been lit with diyas, and a five feet tree laden with all sorts of trinkets and ornaments stood in the middle of it. It was a Christmas tree alright, but it wasn’t pine or fir, it was created from bamboo. An almost exact replica of a Doulgas fir. The branches, the intricately woven bamboo straws that were made into branches and cut in tiny sharp formation of leaves. It had been painted dark green and soft, white cotton spores scattered on it resembling the snowflakes. The tree was ordained from little trinkets all around, some resembling the ornaments she was familiar with but made from painting wooden balls in various hues of reds and indigo. Strings of beads and tiny knitted red socks were hanging from branches, gifting life and even more colour to it. It was the most beautiful thing she’d seen.

In her admiration, she almost did not notice the painting on the side wall. It was unmistakably Santa but instead of riding in the snow, he was riding in the forests surrounded by teaks and bamboo and blooming cassia. The sledge was driven by sambars and nilgais- the animals native to the forest that had gradually started to become her home. She put her hand covering her mouth as she chuckled wetly, unaware of the tears that had begun to form in her eyes. 

“Happy Christmas!” The familiar, deep baritone startled her. She turned around and crashed into Bheem with a force that sent him reeling a couple of steps back, her hands falling around his neck, her face buried in his chest. Bheem regained his balance in a second, his hands reflexively going around her waist to encompass her in his arms. The warmth of her, the scent of her enveloping him in a heavenly bubble. 

It was a long time before they separated, Jenny reluctantly let him go, but not fully, still clasping his hands in hers. “Bheem!” she began, only to be interrupted by a sob, words lodged in her throat, her heart so full with love and admiration and happiness; she thought she would burst. 

“What happened Jenny?” Bheem asked, worry lacing his eyes, his smile fading as he witnessed tears in her those light brown, gold speckled orbs. “I know this is not as grandiose or perfect or ornate as it should be. And perhaps not accurate at all. I just-” 

He was cut off by a delicate palm against his lips. Jenny shook her head, composing herself, compelling her brain to sort out words for the normally the bravest idiot standing in front of her who was always unsure and apprehensive about himself when it came to them. “Bheem,” she took a deep breath, “This is the most beautiful Christmas tree I’ve seen in my life. I don’t care about opulence anymore, you should know that by now! This-” she pointed all around, “this gesture from you means more than all the comfort, all the parties to me.”

“Well, it was not all me. Lacchu and Ram and Malli and Loki were a huge help!” Bheem sheepishly added. “I couldn’t have done it without them!”

Jenny laughed, a pearly little sound that resonated deep within Bheem’s heart tugging at the strings in the most touching was possible. “Ok then! All of them. I love everything about this! The creativity, the innovation, the touch of your culture, your home.” She lowered her eyes, her hands playing with Bheem’s fingers as she demurely added. “Which has become a home to me too. And it is all because of you.” Her breath quivered as she uttered the final words that Bheem was gathering courage to voice for some weeks now. “I love you, Bheem.” Her hands slipped away from his, she took a step back as if giving him space, bracing herself for rejection. 

She had not at all anticipated to confound him like this. Nonetheless, the words were always on the tip of her tongue, threatening to spill out. This was the last thing she expected from him. She had told him all about home and London in one of their late night talks, the conversation inadvertently taking turn to festivals. She had gone on and on about Christmas, her favourite time of the year- the joyous spirit of it, the decorative rituals and the tales of her childhood. She could not believe that he remembered a random babble from months ago. 

Memories rushed back on seeing all of this. She had come to live here, yes, but she also missed home, the festival, the food. Especially around this season. Not that she had disclosed it to anyone but one cannot just uproot their origins that easily. She had been feeling bouts of homesickness, sketching more and more paintings depicting snowy landscapes, scenes from nativity in her free time. It was a coping mechanism that helped. More than that, she kept herself insanely busy, encircled by the people she’d come to know and who had accepted her into their folds. 

A warm breath fanned her cheeks as a finger curled under her chin, making her gaze directly into the brown, honey dipped supernovas that took her breath away each time with their infinite depths and unending intensity. Looking at them, she caught a glimpse of the raw emotions swimming in those orbs. She could clearly discern love, adoration, affection, and a hundred other emotions, and she knew it was the right choice that she’d made. Coming here, confessing, leaving everything behind on a whim was worth it. This wonderful, gorgeous human being in front of her loved her with the same ferocity, if not more. And with that last thought, she let herself relax.

“Jenny! I- I,” Bheem stuttered, his heart beating a mile a minute, his uneven breath, his eyes searching the depths of Jenny’s souls as if he would find the next words written there. “It’s okay.” She soothed him, “I know. Take your time.” 

“No! I want to say it. I need to say it.” 

She nodded. Waited with all the patience in the world for Bheem to assemble his thoughts, his words. She understood it was hard to let out those words for him as it was tough to keep them in for her. Bheem had always been a man of action after all. 

“I never thought I would meet someone as beautiful and kind as you. Seeing you, interacting with you, I was always afraid initially. We were on opposite sides, in every sense of the word. You from a land far away, a princess who grew up in castles and me, a mere commoner, someone who is working to end the empire that was your home, a classic cliche of star-crossed love that has all the earmarks of a tragic ending. I was terrified the first time you set foot in the village, leaving everything behind and coming to stay here. I was afraid if you would be able to adjust, if the people would accept you, if I would be forced to choose between you and my people, my revolution. But the grace with which you handled the transition while I was a complete and utter mess, how could have not fallen for you? You left me no choice but to fall in love with you more and more with each passing day, each passing hour. I only hope I can be worthy of your love.”

Jenny hit him on his bicep at that. “You idiot! Come here!” She placed her palms on his jaw, closing the distance between them, capturing Bheem’s lips in a soft yet intimate kiss as one hand snaked around to the curls at the back of his head. A giddy feeling enveloped the man as he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her up a little, deepening the kiss by tilting his head. 

They flung apart like live wires having the same charge at the sound of a clearing throat. Jenny was the darkest shade of crimson as she turned away from the entrance where Lacchu stood, a wide smirk on his face, eye dancing with mirth as Bheem snapped at him to hide his own embarrassment. Both wanted the earth to split and swallow them whole. “WHAT?” He growled, feigning all the irritation he could muster. 

“Everyone is waiting with the sweets and gifts!” He reigned the laughter that was waiting to spill at his anna’s cost. It was sweet to see the always confident and courageous Bheem be a swiveling mess in front of Jenny. It was not a huge deal as Bheem was making it out to be, it was just a kiss for god’s sake, but the younger man would now not leave any chance to fluster Bheem. It was fun, just like the good old days. 

“Oh, okay, you go we’ll follow!” Bheem had barely recovered, not wanting the others to wait. He had already hogged Jenny for too long. They had all the time in the world now.

“So, I assume she liked the gift?” Lacchu winked, grinning widely as Bheem slammed the door on his face, his face becoming hot all over again with Jenny splintering into a giggle beside him. 

//

hope anyone who is still in the fandom and is reading it likes it.

[intheorangebedroom]

Pleased to meet you

The random HC edition!

Happy Frankie Friday, everyone!

I am very sorry this next chapter is taking so long. You can blame the fucking holidays that played with my mental health like it was a Kendama. It may not look like it, considering the length of this silly post, but I'm actively working on it.

As I've stated before, I have way too many HC about this story. Here are some, completely random, no one will care about. Enjoy!

[series masterlist]

(and please, why is his fucking belt UNBUCKLED)

Frankie

If you really want to know my Frankie, you can read this near extensive love letter, which was originally closer to a 10k ramble. Here's a few extra details (there are many more stored up in my sick brain).

Frankie will tell you that his favourite book is not The Master and Margarita. Don't believe him. That's a lie. Instead, he'll argue that it's In Cold Blood, by Truman Capote, All Quiet On The Western Front, by Erich Maria Remarque, a close second (which is a nod to myself about my next story). He also loves Gabriel Garcia Marquez. He used to read a lot more when he was in the Army, nowadays not so much, somehow.

His favourite movie genre is science-fiction, and his favourite movie of all time is Close Encounters of the Third Kind (can you guess why?) He also has a particular fondness for Solyaris, Sunshine and Monsters. And in a couple of years (PTMY is set in 2014-205) he will love Prospect (do I need to link that?). He also loves documentaries, especially the science ones.

His favourite bands are Jefferson Airplane (Grace Slick's voice does things to him) and, well, Fleetwood Mac, which is a sort of fandom consensus for P boys that they all like FM, right? His favourite song is Dusty Springfield's Windmills Of Your Mind, which he never told the boys because they would give him hell. It reminds him of his mother.

Izzy would like him to be more in touch, culturally speaking, with his Argentinian roots. But it's a very complicated topic for him. Argentinian cuisine is, however, by far his favourite (he loves good meat).

Frankie has a thorough, obsessive mind. When he gets into something, anything, he wants to know everything about it, understand how it works, break it down and rebuild it entirely, and he will spend months, sometimes years, fixated on the same book/movie/object/painting... woman.

Benny

Benny has never been much of a reader. But he's a music connoisseur with eclectic tastes. He's always looking to discover new music, and his favourite app is Radiooooo. Please don't talk to him about CDs, he will hurt you, vinyls are the only way to listen to music if it's not live. He has far too many favourite bands to list (and even I don't know most of them, they're too obscure).

His favourite movie genre is HORROR (capitalised because when he tells someone, it is always excitedly, and in a very loud voice) and his favourite movie is The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (close second: An American Werewolf in London). I have it down to his favourite scene, in case you're wondering just how crazy I am.

Don't let the golden retriever demeanour fool you, he's a very sharp, insightful movie watcher, he can break down any given scene for you and he has a passion for makeshift special effects.

He'll eat quite literally anything, especially if it has eggs or cheese in it (he's actually a very good cook, but you don't want to clean after him), but his favourite dish is his mother's mac & cheese, because he's cute like that.

Will

A word on my Will. He's a very refined, educated, sensitive man. A man of cold logic and rich inner world, complex thoughts and curated emotions. Will is an iceberg. We only see 10% of him. There is this original wound in his childhood only Ben knows about (it's a family thing), but one day in the near future he will tell Reader. He's a dreamer, and a romantic, as well as a very practical man, which in his unique case is not mutually exclusive. He and Reader are very alike and insanely close, I cannot stress that enough.

He enrolled after 9/11 because he thought it was his duty and he sincerely believed he was going to make a difference. He crashed so hard when he realised what was what. Still, he soldiered on, pun intended, because he had committed himself to the job. He is, as he himself puts it, a warrior, but he would have made a damn fine architect or artist.

When Jean left him, she broke his heart. It didn't make him bitter, however, on the contrary, he developed more empathy (which might come in handy... 👀). He is the only one who acknowledges the traumas they all went through and sought treatment for it.

He's not too big on movies, but his favourite is Citizen Kane (which Reader ADORES. I have so many HC about her, because I suck at reader's insert and she's a complete OFC without a name and a writer with the courage to formally declare her such). He likes classic rock and Debussy and trusts his little brother to make him discover new sounds.

ETA: His favourite novel is Anna Karenina.

Seriously? I've never loved a man so much while being not remotely attracted to them.

Santi

I'll be honest here, Santi is a bit of a mystery to me, and I spend just as much time trying to decipher him as I spend imagining Frankie's or the Millers' childhood (don't worry, I will spare you. For now).

We know what kind of music he listens to. Music for motivation, if you ask me. It's less about the tune itself than setting the mood in which he needs to be.

I believe he likes food. Good food. He will not, unlike Benny, eat anything, very far from it. His job is his life. But he does like to travel for leisure. Also, total lack of imagination on my behalf, here, but he's from Guatemala.

He and Frankie met first, at the very beginning of their military careers, but Frankie became very close with Will and even more so with Benny when they met later on. Santi and Frankie have a deeply rooted yet looser bond. They can go for months without talking to each other, but will very naturally pick up where they left off. Benny is Frankie's best friend. For now, at least.

Tom

Name one person who cares. Not me.

***

Now ok, I hear you, you're screaming at your screen "did I just read a shittone of useless stuff I never asked for in the first place???" And please, mind you, I'm sparing you the HC on Izzy, Rosie and Yovanna. I'd just like you to know that Izzy's bi.

So to atone for that, I will tell you how the PTMY boys fuck.

Frankie

Frankie fucks with a vengeance. It's an outlet. A necessity.

However, nothing will happen until he's got his partner's explicit consent. Another consensus about Frankie, he is very respectful of women. It's in his nature, and Izzy did a very good job educating her little brother as a feminist.

His first kiss was Brionna (you better believe he got the girl he wanted. And she never regretted having him as her first kiss either) and his first time was with one of his sister's friends, Selena. He was a scrawny 15-year-old, however already very... charming, and... motivated. She was 19 and slightly condescending at first, like “ok, you cute, I'll take your virginity.” Let me tell you, she was in for quite a surprise. She certainly didn't expect him to make her come. This hard. Twice.

Like I said, obsessive and thorough... When he started being into girls, he downright studied the subject so he could master it and be the best. Not competitively, though. He's too selfless. He's a very tactile, sensory person. He needs to taste, inhale, touch. When he cares, his hands are on his partner, always.

Oh and Izzy got super pissed at him for fucking her friend.

Yes, his favorite meal is 🐱 and yes, he will make his partner come multiple times before he does anything else, but when he's done with that, he will turn them over and fuck into them at a punishing pace. That's why, in the darkest period of his life, he favoured intercourses with professionals. Who he also treats with the utmost respect. Over the years, 🐱 eating has become a quest. He's always and forever looking for your taste. And as he does, he'd rather not see his partner's face, so he can forget he most likely will never taste you again...

But it wasn't always like that. In college, he was literally drowning in 🐱, as word quickly got out of his prowess. And he was exceptionally soft on Pilar, the Mexican girl, the only woman he really ever had a relationship with, and boy, did he break her heart when he left. He had no intention of hurting her, and he tried his best to be gentle, but he felt like staying with her was being dishonest.

And of course, there's you.

Ok, one more for the road, because it makes me sweat.

Benny

Benny's quick (compared to the other ones) but deadly efficient. He's got stamina. He's playful. Sex with him is simple, and fun, and good. Very good. He will make his partner feel soooo good about themselves and their body. He's talkative (likes to let them know what's on the menu before he starts), and he'll be into whatever they're into. He. Is. Game. Toys? Alright! You wanna be tied up? Why not! You want him tied up? Let's go!

Oh and he's a tits man. And he likes ALL of them. Any shape any size any colour.

Will

Ah. Will. Will would rather be in love. But, you know. You can't always be. This said, no matter the circumstances, he will be entirely cued in to his partner, careful to please and to pleasure. Completely selfless as well. Also great stamina. Guess it runs in the family. But when he's in love? Phewwwww... When he's in love, his moves belong in a museum. It is ✨art✨

Santi

Santi is in for the performance. He's a showman. Which at times gets in the way of the result, despite him being a very good partner. Yovanna exposed him, on this one, though. Saw right through the bs and told him as much. And thus made him a much better lover...

I mean. Look at him strut... 🙄😏

Tom

Has a micropenis.

Alright, that's it! Are you still alive? Thank you for reading!

Trying my best to have chapter 13 ready by next Friday.

Taglist (thank you 💕): @elegantduckturtle @mashomasho @lola766 @flowersandpotplantsandsunshine @nicolethered @littleone65 @bands-tv-movies-is-me @the-rambling-nerd @saintbedelia @pedrostories @trickstersp8 @all-the-way-down-here @deadmantis @hbc8 @princessdjarin @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos

[letters-from-the-4077]

2x06: Kim

Dear Dad,

There are very few things in Korea that I could ever consider missing. Ironically, those few things are probably the only ones that aren’t going to come back to haunt me in nightmares for the rest of my life. 

We see bloodshed and dying kids and shrapnel on the good days, and send off boys with white sheets over their heads on the bad days. Or we would, if the army could afford to lose a few sheets. More often than not, the deceased go away on the same buses filled with the guys that managed to make it out.

Thousands of Korean civilians are getting caught up in this war. This Police Action. Which you’d think would make sense seeing as how it’s taking place in Korea, but nobody’s fooled by that. This isn’t a Korean War so much as it is a war taking place in Korea by chance. Sorry, Police Action. It gets me every time, you know that?

My point is, there’s very little to look forward to. Your letters are one of them, and the supply closet with rotating guests after an OR session is another. Especially now that I’ve managed to consistently sleep again. Consistent is a strong word, actually, but that’s neither here nor there.

I write to you today with almost good news! What a first, right? I can bet you that you weren’t expecting that one. So rarely is there a day that the sun actually feels like it’s shining down in a way that isn’t gunning to give us all horrendous sunburns. Even less so when children are involved, but for once, someone seemed to have taken pity on us for more than a single minute.

A kid came in, no older than eight years old, orphaned, ill, and unable to speak a lick of English. Now now, stick with me, I assure you this isn’t going to be as grim as it sounds. At first we tried to get Henry to track down his parents, and then Radar because we all know that kid’s got some uncanny power to find these things out, but nada. We came out blank.

Again, stick with me.

First of all, this kid was probably the most spoiled one in all of Korea for as long as we had him. The nurses adored him, and hell, even Margaret cooled down that fiery breath of her and showed her maternal side. Frank wasn’t quite as much of an imbecile as he always manages to be, and it’s like every single person in this whole damn camp knew that this kid was the most important thing in the world.

Kim, by the way. I realize I haven’t actually told you his name. A kid named Kim. But it’s not like we’re set up for keeping a kid at the 4077th, and we certainly aren’t authorized for it, so after we couldn't find his parents, the orphanage was the next on the list.

Which is just plain shit. It’s shit, dad. 

And clearly I was not the only one who felt that way, ’cause Trap barely hesitated a second before admitting that he’d like nothing more than to take Kim home and raise him with his daughters. As much as that guy hates being sincere—almost as much as I do—you could just tell he meant it.

Trapper’s a good dad. Not as good as you, don’t start getting insecure on me, but he’s a good dad. Stuck in a place about 9000 miles away from his girls, and yet he still manages to be paternalistic like he never left. It’s the kind of guy that a girl would love to settle down with, you know? 

Anyway, it all went by so fast. Confirmation from Louise (that’s his wife, I’m fairly sure I’ve told you about her before), excitement all around. 

For just a couple of moments, it actually seemed like something good could’ve come out of this war. No no, police action. I’ll get myself there, yet.

Of course, this damn place turns everything rotten in some way or another. Optimism, I’ve found it, is more of an enemy than the guys shooting at us. At least we always know what to expect from the North Koreans. 

That’s not to say it was all fun and dandy. There was a certain trip to a minefield that I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to forget, and if the past two nights have been any indication, I’m sure the nightmares of Trap’s limbs landing on my table aren’t going away any time soon either.

But things were supposed to work out.

Trap and Kim were safe in the end, and everything was supposed to fucking work out. It all was. It actually seemed like it was going to, and I think that’s the worst fucking part about it all.

It’s crazy just how quickly something good can be taken away from you. For a lot of people out here it’s their lives, their brothers, their sons. In this unit specifically, it’d take both of my hands to list the number of daughters that fathers have had to leave behind.

You could snap your fingers and in a fraction of the time for the sound to reach your ears, you could lose everything. Korea keeps humbling us, dad.

And even though I know it could’ve ended so much worse, it still feels like a punch in the gut for Kim to not be on a plane to Trap’s family. Finding Kim’s mother was nothing short of a miracle. It’s a goddamn happy ending if there’s ever been one, and yet I still find myself, selfishly, thinking about the McIntyre’s having a third kiddo running around.

How could such a crummy place give us so much hope? More importantly, how come we keep falling for it? Sometimes I think that’s the most cruel part of it of all.

I’m sorry if I was ever a difficult kid to raise. I’ve always known I got lucky, even with the whole dead mom thing, but seeing the shit out here really makes me wish I could go back in time and slap myself and tell me to appreciate every last thing in Crabapple Cove. Especially you.

I love you. I don’t think I say it enough. I love you, dad.

Hawk

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