#if anyone wants to hear about this. tell me. i am Eager to share the concepts.

[the-real-list-of-ominous-threats]

I'm going to force you to play the joke FNAF dating sim my friend and I are making

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — YUTA x FEM READER 

You’ve been trying to get a boyfriend to get over your one sided crush, but being known as Yuta’s girl across campus is a major cockblock for your romantic endeavours. The worst part? You’re not even dating.

wc — 4.8k

tags — pining, childhood friends to lovers, jealous Yuta, possessiveness, college au, Getou #1 wingman Suguru but only cause he gets a kick out of watching Yuta suffer, Yuta and you are so delusional, some suggestive content

♫: cologne — beabadoobee

This is the fifth boy that’s turned you down so far. You’re starting to wonder if something’s wrong with you. 

As with all of your woes, it ends with you at Yuta’s apartment. Is it pathetic to be comforted for your failed attempts at flirting by the boy you’re in love with? Very. Do you trust anyone else but Yuta not to make fun of you? No. 

“Yuta,” you whine into his stomach. He’s sitting on the couch with his legs tucked neatly together to form a cushion for your head. “Am I ugly?” 

He drops his controller instantly, muttering a quick sorry to Inumaki who’s suddenly left single handedly defending their team against the enslaught of monsters. “Why would you say that?” 

He pinches your cheeks between two fingers, squishing your face until your lips form an ‘o’. “You’re the prettiest girl in the world! Anyone would be lucky to have you.” 

Clearly not, or Yuta would have you. He’s just saying that because he has to. He’s your best friend.

“Did someone say something to you?” He asks. 

“So you do think I’m ugly!” 

Yuta grabs you by the wrists and hauls you upright so you’re face to face on the couch, knees uncomfortably entangled with his as you’re forced to sit up. He’s too earnest, too eager as he presses your hands together in his grip and says, “Everything about you is pretty! I never want to hear you say that again. Don’t disparage the eyes and lips and nose that I love.” 

This is the reason why you can never get over him. How can you when he says things like that? If you hadn’t known Yuta since you were five, you would say he was leading you on. But because you’ve grown up together, you know it’s just the way he is, like the sky is blue or the sun is warm. Yuta just loves you - but not like that. Not in the way you want. 

Never in the way you want. 

It’s been difficult. You and Yuta have no secrets between you, or at least you used to. It’s a side effect of growing up practically out of the same womb. What’s his is yours and vice versa. When you share everything with each other, it goes against your very nature to hold things back. Your secret strains at your lips, climbing up your throat, constantly begging to be set free even as you suppress it. 

“You’re making me sad,” he says, poking at your cheek at your silence. He’s trying to provoke you. “Why can’t you see yourself the way I do?” 

Normally he can get a smile out of you under any circumstance, so it distresses him not to be able to cheer you up instantly. He’s your best friend, the only one you have. You’ve been together your entire lives. Would telling him really change everything? 

You want to trust him more than the fear that he would reject you. Even if he can’t love you back the way that you want him to, at least this nightmare would be over. You could learn to accept what he was willing to give you, in time. Isn’t it a slight against the love you share to doubt him like this? 

But you’re scared. A childhood friend is irreplaceable. You can make new friends, but you can never get another Yuta. You’ll never be able to replicate the way he’s shared all of the bumps and bruises of your childhood with someone else. His mother has a box of your baby teeth that she keeps with her mementoes of his childhood. Who else can you say that about? You can’t risk it. 

“Yuta. Stop flirting and get your ass back in the game before we die!” 

Inumaki’s normally quiet voice hits a volume so loud it echoes through the headset. Yuta winces. Sorry, he mouthes at you. Talk later. 

God damn it, Inumaki. You were so close. 

“It’s not my fault,” he says through a mouthful of rice at lunch the next day. “How was I supposed to know that’s what you guys were talking about? I thought you guys were making your usual goo goo eyes at each other, not making breakthroughs.” 

“To be fair,” Panda says. “We never thought you were going to make a breakthrough, so it can’t be Inumaki’s fault.” 

“Ouch,” you rest your head against the cool linoleum of the table. “Way to let me down easy, guys.” 

“Come on,” Inumaki pushes his miso soup at you in a show of contrition. “You know we’re just joking.” 

“I know, I’m just annoyed cause you’re right - keep your mouth shut, Inumaki. He’s never going to see me that way.” 

“Didn’t you just jump from friend to potentially attractive friend? Sounds like a win to me,” Inumaki says. 

“For anyone else, yeah. For Yuta, it probably just means he’s going to start setting me up with his friends so I realize I’m pretty.” 

Inumaki and Panda share a look. You know the look. It means they think you’re being dumb. 

You steal Panda’s soup too as payback. 

Inumaki and Panda are easy to talk to about Yuta. More often than not, they’re the ones who bring up your relationship woes first because Inumaki loves teasing you and Panda secretly loves rom coms.

It’s a complete contrast from your other best friend. You’re too scared to tell Maki about the latest development in your relationship because she hates hearing about it. She’s a good friend who cares about you and your feelings, or so she claims, but she can’t stand watching you drag your feet. 

“Just confess already,” she hisses, using her textbook to shield her face from the professor. 

“I can’t! It’ll ruin everything!” 

“Don’t be a baby,” she snaps back, unaware of the professor walking towards her. You try to gesture at her to shut up, but she’s too focused on saying her piece. 

“Ladies. Would you like to continue your riveting discussion outside?” 

Even getting kicked out of class isn’t a deterrent for Maki. “Fine. You won’t confess to Yuta. What about your other plan?”

“No one will talk to me because they think I’m dating Yuta,” you wail as quietly as possible. 

“You serious?” She squints at you. “I’m telling you, just confess at that point.”

You shake your head vehemently. 

“Fine! Ignore me if you want to, but you see that guy coming our way? Try it one more time so I can see.” 

Maki pushes you down the path towards him before you can say no. You have an inkling how this is going to go based off the five previous times you’ve tried this, but Maki’s stare is drilling holes into the back of your head. 

“Hey,” you smile. 

“No thanks,” he says immediately. “Just save yourself the trouble. No one’s stupid enough to go after Yuta’s girl.” 

“Yuta’s girl? What does Yuta have to do with anything? Why does everyone keep saying that to me?!” 

“Bark up the right tree enough times and eventually you’ll find the devil.” 

“…I think the saying is ‘if you knock on enough doors, the devil will answer.’ How did you even come up with that?” 

“I’m just saying! Feels like the answer’s obvious to me, Yuta’s girl.” 

“Argh!” You march back to Maki, who’s giggling to herself. You just hope that at least she’ll be able to help you after that embarrassing little display. “So? What’s your advice?”

“Huh? Oh, I didn’t have advice. I just wanted to see it happen in real time.” 

Maki’s no help, either. 

The problem with being in love with Yuta is he doesn’t even allow you the grace of trying to get over him. No one will touch with you a ten foot pole until Getou. 

Getou is two years your senior, thinks of Yuta as this cute little puppy that follows Gojo around, and looks just right for your purposes. He’s not a carbon copy of Yuta. He just shares features with him. If anything, he could be his older brother. He has long black hair instead of short, but the same haunted eyes. 

It’s better that way, easier to not cut too deep. You know exactly how far you can go before the pleasure of pain tips too far into the wrong side. If he looks like him just enough, then you can slip in between lucid dreams. Yuta’s face comes to you in flashes rather than consistently when you’re together with Getou. 

He’s a smart man. He picks up on it almost instantly. 

Another reason Getou’s perfect for you? 

He simply doesn’t care. It’s not his problem what his darling little underclassmen get up to as long as it doesn’t interfere with his life. If you just want to have a good time, he’s down for that too. 

If you weren’t so hung up on Yuta, you think Getou might be fun. Fun could turn into love, perhaps. But those were only what ifs that were useless to you. It’s Yuta, it’s always been. He’s the only one for you. 

You can’t lose him. 

But you want him in ways he isn’t willing to give you. Incessantly, he haunts you at odd hours. You’re doing homework at one in the morning when your thoughts wander and you’re thinking of him. The way he’d coach you through this problem. The sure, strong strokes of his handwriting, as familiar as your mother’s voice. 

It’s hopeless. Every part of you has already been attuned to Yuta since childhood. You can’t extricate yourself. You can only hope to outlast the growth, and cling on as long as you are able. The only concessions you can allow yourself are small ones. 

Yuta’s a good student who sleeps early, but he’ll pick up for you. He always does. You’re his childhood best friend after all, and that leaves a sour taste in your mouth even as you begrudge yourself your own greediness. 

“Hello?” His voice is thick with sleep, husky and low in a way that you know doesn’t belong to you. You savor it anyways, these small intimacies you get to keep until he finds a girl of his own and doesn’t need you anymore. 

“Hello?” He says again. “Are you drunk? Do you need me to pick you up?” 

“Just bored,” you reply, playing with your pen. “Sorry, were you asleep?” 

“Don’t play with my feelings like that,” he laughs. “We both know you knew I was. Want me to stay up with you?” 

“Nah. I’m sorry for waking you up.” 

“You know I’d want you to, anytime. Are you working on the paper from English?” 

“Yeah. Go back to sleep,” you say, letting the smallest of smiles grace your lips. Alone in your room, you can allow yourself these small weaknesses. 

“Mm, but I wanna stay up with you,” he says, even as his voice grows softer and softer. You can almost picture him, hair sleep tousled and eyes half lidded. It’s a sight out of your dreams. 

“I’ll hang up when I’m done. Go to bed, Yu.” 

By the time you finish, you can hear his breathing evening out through the speakers. He’s a light sleeper, so you tip toe around as you finish getting ready for bed. When you have to hang up, you’re almost tempted to leave him on speakerphone so his soft breaths can lull you to sleep. 

You banish that unwelcome thought to the deepest, darkest, most remote time out corner of your brain and immediately text Getou to meet up the next day. You need to get a hold of yourself. 

“You know,” Getou drawls, “keep calling me out like this and I might get the wrong idea.” 

“If you fall for a girl that only talks to you about how much she likes her crush, that’s your own fault.” 

“Fair enough,” he laughs. “So what is it this time?” 

“I called him at night and his voice was so sleepy-“

“I meant,” Getou says, a finger running over the rim of his coffee cup as he looks at you. “What do you want me to do about it?” 

“Please make me forget him.” 

Getou smiles at you. “What a coincidence. I needed to blow off some steam today.” 

If you close your eyes, you can imagine someone else when Getou kisses you. One thing leads to another and he ends up taking you home. 

The thing about your relationship with Getou is it’s so ridiculously easy. There’s no strings attached for either of you, so when you wake up to his peaceful face in bed the next day, there’s no regrets. 

Well, except one. 

Getou’s a gentle lover in every way, but he’s a biter. There’s a trail of dark bruises blooming over your neck and collarbones. 

“Pretty, isn’t it?” He calls from the bed as you admire yourself in the mirror. 

“You’re an asshole,” you tell him. “I have to get breakfast with Yuta today.” 

He grins. “That’s the point.” 

You barely have time to messily apply concealer before you’re almost late to your appointment with Yuta. He’s waiting at the place he and you claimed as your own the very first day you arrived on campus. The nice granny who runs this diner has a soft spot for the two of you and often gives you free desserts. 

You slide into the seat across from him just as he’s wrapping up one of his readings for that day. He barely looks up when he feels you come closer, just lifts his arm wordlessly so he can tuck you into his side like a baby bird under its mother’s wings. He turns his head to the side even as his eyes are following the words on the page to press a light kiss to your temple, his breath stirring your hair as he rests his head against yours for a brief moment before returning to his textbook. He flips a page. 

Would he still allow you these gentle, nonchalant touches if he knew how you really felt? Your stomach drops at the intrusive fear that he might be disgusted by you afterwards, withdrawing the easy skinship he shares with you that he thinks nothing of, but you savor. You’re hyper aware of every brush of his hand against your shoulder as he lets his arm hand loosely around you. 

“I’m done,” he announces, stretching out so his lanky body is pressed flat to the table for a second before he straightens. He must be sore from hunching over his textbook all morning. In sympathy, you lightly rub at his shoulders. 

“Did you eat yet?” He asks. “Want me to order you something?” 

“No-“ You’re in the middle of replying when his face is suddenly far too close to you. 

“Hey there,” you laugh nervously. “What are you doing?” 

Yuta pulls back, but there’s a minute crease in his expression. 

“There’s something on your neck.” He says. 

“What?” 

His hand curls around the base of your neck. It doesn’t hurt. There’s a complete lack of pressure in his grip, fingers loose and curled. He’s just holding you. You inhale sharply, a recoil aborted. 

“Sorry,” he says, easy smile and gentle demeanor that doesn’t reach his eyes. They’re a little shadowed today, harried. He wears his emotions all over his face. You know he has a final today, that he likely didn’t sleep last night. It must be why he’s acting weird. 

His fingertips ghost over your neck, light tap-tap-tapping that makes you shiver. “What’s this?” 

You pull out your phone to check yourself in the camera. The concealer you put on this morning has sweated off, leaving streaks on your shirt. Underneath the smudges, the blurry outline of the marks Getou left on you last night are visible. 

Your face burns with mortification. 

“Yuta! You shouldn’t ask people stuff like that!” 

It’s not like he’s a child. You know he knows what a hickey is. He’s just pointing it out so you know he knows. 

He shrugs. “I mean, yeah, I’d be more careful about what I was saying if it was anyone else, but it’s you. What the hell happened? It looks like you had a tryst with a vampire.”

Gingerly, he touches your neck again, his fingers cold from holding his iced latte. You need him to stop doing that before you do something stupid. 

“Does it hurt?” He asks. 

“It felt good-“ 

“Stop! I didn’t need to know that,” he says, face turning red. 

Defensively, you retort, “Well, you asked!” 

“Forget it,” he sighs. “I’m sorry I spent all of breakfast studying. What are you doing later?” 

“Hanging out with Getou, probably. He said he wants to go to this new restaurant that just opened up.” 

“He’s the one that gave you all those love bites?” 

At your nod, Yuta rolls his eyes. He’s certainly in a mood today. Poor thing. He’s been working really hard lately. Not just today, but every day this past week, he’s been studying non stop. You should reward him. 

“Don’t go with him,” Yuta coaxes. “Hang out with your best friend instead. We can have another sleepover. Don’t you want to game all night?

The decision is made before Yuta even offers you a choice. You text Getou a quick apology, to which he replies with a lazy ‘lol. Loverboy?’

You’re happy Yuta asked you to come over. You’ve spent so much time fearing how he’d react if he knew that you’d forgotten how nice it felt to just hang out with him. 

You’re cuddling with Yuta on his couch as you watch a movie. He opted for a quiet night instead of gaming, so he broke out the snacks and remotes instead of controllers. You wish there was a way to push him away without explaining what’s going on. You and Yuta have always been touchy like this, comfortable with each other in a way that superseded even the closest of friends. 

It was never abnormal until now, when new love has redefined every aspect of your relationship with him. It makes it awkward to touch him, to be this close. But you always want to be this close. It’s hard, fighting a war with yourself. 

You snuggle into the hoodie he lent you, trying to hide your face. Your eyes dart to him, watching him instead of the movie. His hair has a faint blue sheen from the screen. He’s enraptured, staring open mouthed at the action sequence. 

Your heart beats double time, as it always does around him, prey instincts going into fight or flight. Yuta just does that to you, makes your body sing like it’s in the most exquisite agony possible. Like a runner’s high, you’re addicted to the pain of having him but not having him. Even the scraps of romance you can get are worth more than a lifetime of other lovers. 

You hope he can’t tell. Yuta has always had weirdly sensitive senses. 

Yuta’s line of sight shifts from the TV to you. You feel like a deer in headlights, trapped in the yawning black void of his gaze as he looks back, watching you as you have been watching him. 

‘Hey,’ he mouthes at you, the corners of his mouth lifting into a soft smile. 

‘Hey back,’ you mouth in return, wanting him, loving him, missing him. 

You rarely bring clothes when you’re staying the night at Yuta’s. Either he has some for you in a dresser he’s saved for your use, or you can just borrow his. You always end up changing into his clothes, anyways, so big and comfortable they swallow you up. 

He’s lying on his belly on the bed when you come out of the bathroom freshly showered and in his T-shirt. He looks up when he hears you. 

“Oh,” he says. He blinks once, hard. “Come here, please.” 

Self conscious, you cross the room to him. Your crush makes you miserable, coloring your every action. The fear that your desires are written across your face shadow every step you take. Are you that transparent? Can he tell? 

He reaches up to touch your face, reverent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, then he pulls you down onto the bed next to him. 

“Don’t tease,” you tell him. 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, embracing you. Even this feels too much. His skin against yours feels like a thousand colts of electricity. Where his nose brushes against your nape is so sensitive you squirm in his grasp, kicking uselessly in his hold. 

“I only say things that are true,” he tells you solemnly. “You are pretty.” 

You don’t know how you’re supposed to sleep after that. 

In the morning, you’re finally back in your own set of clothes to head out and face the day. You and Yuta get ready together, running through your morning routines. You brush your teeth and eat breakfast side by side. 

Before he leaves for work, he spritzes himself with the cologne he leaves on the dresser. When you reach for the perfume you keep in his apartment, a twinning his and hers set you had gotten together one day during the holidays, he pins your hand down. With an appeasing glance over you, he spritzes his cologne on you instead. 

He leans in and sniffs experimentally. 

“You smell nice,” he says. 

You lift your wrist to your nose and inhale. 

“I smell like you,” you say, laughing. He smells like a crisp winter morning, a hint of pine and frost. 

“Well, yeah,” he says. “I wouldn’t have picked this scent if I didn’t like it.” 

It’s true. Nothing Yuta does is unintentional.

“What the hell,” Getou says as soon as he opens the door to you. “You reek.” 

Your face burns. 

Getou roars with laughter when you tell him why you smell the way you do. “What a brat,” he says. 

“Hey!” You feel the compulsion to defend Yuta against even the smallest of slights. It’s instinctual, even though you know Getou doesn’t really mean it. 

He shakes his head at you. “I really pity you, you know? You’re so whipped.”  

Hanging out with Getou doesn’t end in anything physical tonight. He injured himself playing volleyball with Gojo and he’s not interested in anything but good company. You don’t know if you’d be interested, either. It’s always easier to pretend you don’t want him after a little bit of distance. Trying anything right after seeing Yuta would only tear your heart apart. You and Getou pass the time in amicable silence, working on your separate assignments in the same room. 

Your phone buzzes three hours in. 

Yuta 4:15 You busy? 

You 4:24 With Getou Working on homework  Why?

Yuta 4:24  Come over  I miss you 

You 4:24  I saw you this morning 

Yuta 4:24  …

Yuta 4:25 …

Yuta 4:25  I always miss you when you’re not here 

Getou cackles. You jolt, startled. You had honestly forgotten where you were. 

“Is that loverboy?” He says, trying to grab the phone out of your hand so he can see the message. “You look so lovestruck.” 

You yank it back from him. “I gotta go.” 

“Abandoning me again?” He shakes his head in mock sadness. “I’m really just a toy to you, huh?”

That makes you hesitate, even though you do want to see Yuta. 

He ruffles your hair. “Ah, youth. So gullible. I’m fine, sweetheart. Go see your beau. And send him my regards,” he says with a devious smile as he walks you to the door. His eyes light up when he sees the forgotten garment he had discarded on his coat rack. 

You look at him quizzically. It’s not strange for him to be a gentlemen, but it is strange for him to offer you his letterman before you leave. He loves that jacket. He wears it so often that his name emblazoned across the back has been worn down into a soft cream instead of eggshell white. 

“What’s this for?”

“Just wear it. And tell me how Yuta reacts.” 

With that, he pushes you out of the door. 

Yuta wrinkles his nose at you in a display of badly disguised contempt. He was so excited to see you when you walked through the door, but as soon as he saw what you were wearing, his smile dropped off his face. 

“What’s with that guy?” He grumbles. “It’s so weird that he’s giving you his letterman. Isn’t that almost like a claim in the sports world?” 

For some reason, it pisses you off. On most days, Yuta could commit a crime and you’d help him cover it up, but this time you seriously can’t tell where he gets off acting like this. He’s not dating you. He’s not interested in you. He doesn’t even see you as a potential partner. 

You jab your finger into his chest, punctuating every word you speak by prodding him. “Why do you think you can judge Getou? You don’t even know him.” 

“I know that he’s going after a taken girl.” 

“We’re just friends, Yuta.” The admission stings. No matter what anyone else thinks of your relationship with Yuta, that’s all you will be. 

“Yeah, but no one else thinks so.”

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Is it so bad to be seen with me?”

“It is if I’m trying to get a boyfriend! You’re the reason no one wants to date me!” 

“Do you need to date someone?” he says. Every word out of his mouth only makes you’re more incensed. He’s being condescending without meaning to, but it doesn’t soften the blow. 

“I want to!” 

“And if I don’t want you to?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I think I’m in love with you.” 

Your head is spinning. “That’s not funny.” 

“I don’t want you to be with Getou,” he says. “I want you to be with me. You’re right, it’s not fair, but I get this ugly feeling in my chest when you’re together and now I know why. I can be so much better for you than he is.”

“This isn’t about who’s better! You’re always-“ You’re on the brink of tears. “Ugh! You’re so frustrating, Yuta! I’m trying to get over you and you think you’re being noble by dating me because you want to keep me safe? Why would I ever want that?” 

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, so soft it makes you want to run into his arms and run away from him at the same time. Then he frowns. “Did you say you’re trying to get over me?” 

You glance at him, then the door. The calculations you run in your head say you can make it outside before he catches you. You turn so fast on your ankle the floor makes a despairing screech beneath the soles of your shoes as you beat a hasty exit.

The calculations in your head are wrong. He loops his arms around your waist and picks you up, throwing you effortlessly over his shoulder so he can carry you to the couch. You’re deposited with a soft grunt as he climbs over you and pins you down so you can’t even think of escaping. You thrash, regardless. 

“Let me go, Yuta!”

“I thought you called me Yu,” he teases. 

“You aren’t being cute!”

“Is it him?”

“Him?”

“I’ve been trying to get you to look at me that way this whole time,” Yuta says despairingly. “I didn’t want to scare you away, but I couldn’t hold myself back anymore. But before I even got a chance, this asshole steals you away?” 

“Yuta, what are you talking about?”

“Are you in love with Getou?” 

“Are you stupid?�� You can feel hot tears well up in your eyes. It’s frustrating to be crying so easily because you’re embarrassed and angry. “I said I was trying to get over you! Just say what you have to say, don’t torture me like this.” 

“Did it work? Are you over me?”

“I’ll never be over you,” you sniffle. You just want him to leave you alone now so you can wallow in your own patheticness.

“I’m glad,” Yuta says, and then he cups your face in his hands so delicately, like he’s holding the most precious treasure in the world, and kisses you like he’s trying to steal the breath from you. 

Your knees crumble underneath you. He catches you easily and hoists you up, letting you settle with your legs wrapped around his waist. He holds you up with just one arm as he presses you harder against the wall, cushioning your head carefully. You’re pinned between his body and the wall. You moan against him, pleased and warm and disgustingly in love with him. All your senses are full of him as you cling to him.. 

Distantly, as if through water, you hear your phone buzz.

Getou 6:01 You owe me for that, by the way. 

[thatsdemko]

who’s the worst of them all? someone tell Santa Claus! - f1 grid

part two | masterlist

warning: not intended for minors + some jokes + fluff/filler part

a/n: hi hi it’s me… I’ve had this written since early November and I’m excited to share!! enjoy!!

DEAR Y/N,

have you been a good girl this year? I heard you’re looking for your stocking stuffed, I think I have just the gift. meet me at midnight for your gift!

Xx

secret Santa

you can’t read this out loud, and most definitely not to the public who will view this video later. whoever was your secret Santa, must’ve heard the rumors of your dry spell. and how pitiful was if that it wasn’t even a rumor, it was the truth.

“oh it’s just a sweet handwritten note.” you chuckle quickly flashing the note to the camera before shoving it back inside the off white envelope.

the presenter presses for more information. she asks what the letter contains and who you think it’s from, and in all honesty, it could be coming from anyone.

all the boys handwriting was not legible. it was like getting a doctors script, it could mean anything, but it was clear this individual took their time to make it perfect.

“I’ll have to find out at the Christmas dinner tonight.” you flash a wink in hopes to cover the beet red look against your cheeks.

“well have fun!”

fun… this was about to be nowhere near fun when it came down to narrowing twenty something guys to be your secret Santa.

—

starting off with Pierre. in his bachelor days, he would’ve sent you something like this, but it was always harmless jokes and he would never take it this far. with kika around his arm, you could cross him off the list of embarrassing yourself in front of.

then there’s his best friend, Charles. he always had a wobbly relationship with women, and seeing he’s alone tonight you cross the room heading his way, “you don’t happen to be my secret Santa?” your hands delicately press against his shoulders, he turns around rather quickly at your touch instantly shaking his head, “no, no, I got Pierre this year. you still don’t know yours?”

shaking your head in response, you eye the room from where you stand. the bar had begun to fill with drivers and team members rather quickly. the air was colder now, but the heat from inside was welcoming to those dressed in bare minimum, like yourself. Charles hand against your lower back was like a radiator, the heat spread through your system faster than the log fire going on, “I’m sure you’ll find him.” Charles promises, “but for now, can I get you a drink?”

“please.”

—

the nights gone smoothly and so far you can cross off valterri, Logan, Kevin, and Nico. you’re questioning yuki, Daniel, Lewis, and lando due to their abilities to dodge the questions.

George outright told you it wasn’t him after hearing you’d spun yourself in circles to find anyone new to question. Logan had confessed to having brought up the idea, but refused to give any further information.

and then there was Carlos.

the man who’d been under your nose this whole evening. with his bow tie crooked, and the clock ticking closer to midnight, you meander your way over to where he stands.

“I’m not who you’re looking for, hermosa.”

“and who am I looking for exactly?”

his eyes flicker from the clock, the television highlighting the Real Madrid game, and back over to you, “I’d never send such a cryptic message.” he maneuvers his body to face yours, “I know how to ask for what I want.”

“and what is it that you want?” you press your body closer in to the smooth wood bar top. your mind is spinning, your heart is hammering it’s way out of your chest, and Carlos is inching closer.

“for you to leave me alone.”

“you’re no fun, sainz.” you pout your bottom lip out and spin on your heels to find your body pressed into lando’s.

“you find him yet?” landos cheeky grin makes him look like a Cheshire Cat. ever since he read the note he’d been eager to place the pin on the man and root for your dry spell to end.

for now, it’s ten minutes to midnight and the place was emptying. the alcohol buzzed around the room and the chatter begun to die, it’s ironic how it was a little bit like your heart: buzzing to find the guy, but ready to die at the sight of him.

“I’m sure it’s all just a prank and I’ll have Logan to blame for it.”

“miss,” the bartenders tap against your shoulder makes you spin away from landos chest, “this is for you.”

DEAR Y/N,

giving up? never thought of you as a quitter.

xx

yours

grinding your teeth together you press the napkin into your palm until the ink smudges. you’re no quitter, but if the man with no balls doesn’t show up soon, you’ll leave here ready to slam your car into someone else’s.

“I’m going to head out, you’ll be okay to walk out alone?”

lando’s worries snap your thoughts from the napkin that’s disintegrating into your hands. his touch is soft against your bare shoulder, making your body two degrees warmer than the room, “I’ll be fine, you go home and have a good Christmas.”

“you too, and if you don’t find him—“

“yes, I know, you’ll key his car.”

rolling your eyes, you playfully shove the Brit off into the cold, leaving you and the cleaning crew in silence.

you never noticed how trashed the bar was. in its glory days, you can tell the red thick carpet and white trim around the bar gave the place a holiday feel. and by the old pictures scattered around the walls, the formula one boys had a riot in this place. people from Michael Schumacher all the way down to young Fernando Alonso, the place seemed to always be the home of f1.

looking down at the disintegrated napkin in your hand, and quickly looking up at the clock, midnight had just struck. if he wasn’t here by 12:01 you were a goner. you hated people who wasted your time, you’d much rather be at home or maybe in lando’s warm McLaren buzzing from the alcohol and the warm leather seats.

turning on your heel, he’d just arrived. he’s shaking the snow off his bulky black jacket, shimmering out of the sleeves. a man comes and retrieves it from his grasp, and in typical fashion, he thanks him.

“you thought I wouldn’t come?”

“I hate when people are late.”

“good thing I’m not late then,” he says with a soft smile approaching where you stand at the bar, with your arms crossed tightly over your chest. he leans forward, inching his mouth over your ear, “I’m right on time.”

a/n: take your guesses on who you think it is!! the big reveal happens Christmas Day!

tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog @monzabee @lpab @frreyaa @motorsp0rt @lovelytsunoda @smoothopz z @jaehyunluvcult @iloveyou3000morgan @lunnnix @leclerc13 @goldenalbon

[calirph]

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐘 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All quotes are taken from different books people recommended to me that have similar energy to the bridgerton series and book franchise. Some of these are suggestive, per usual for historical romance diction. Change names, locations and pronouns however you see fit.

Romancing the Duke by Tessa Dare

For God’s sake. Don’t do that.

This is property. Don’t you understand how rare that is for a woman? Property always belongs to our fathers, brothers, husbands, sons. We never get to own anything.

Don’t tell me you’re one of those women with radical ideas.

Of course one kiss changes things. If it's done right, a kiss changes everything.

Listen to me. When a man wakes, he wakes wanting. He wakes hard and rude and aching with need.

Yes. In you. Hard, deep, fast, and completely. Now don’t wake me at this hour again unless you’ve found the perfect retort to that.

But now it’s gone all wrong. Because you’re here in this bed. But I’m here, too. And God help me, Izzy. I don’t know how to leave.

You're not going to ruin my first kiss. I won't let you.

You're pushing me away because you're afraid.

I'm not pushing you away. I believe I just offered to marry you.

There’s no castle big enough to keep a man like me from being aware, every moment, of a woman like you.

Do you understand what I’m saying to you?

When a Scot Ties the Knot by Tessa Dare

Madaline Eloise Gracechurch... I've come here to marry you.

What I'm saying isna romantic. It's raw, primal, and entirely crude.

There's more than one way to share pleasure.

I dinna care about the color of your frock, lass. I'm only going to take off you again.

Quickly, say something unfeeling. Mock my letters. Just do something, anything reprehensible.

Your men, my servants … they could be watching us.

I’m certain they’re watching us. That’s why we’re going to kiss.

..."What burden do you have?

The burden of duty. I led those men into battle.

There was a time when I enjoyed a great deal of female companionship.

Are you saying you were faithful to me?

I mean to make you mine, mo chridhe. Touch all of you. Taste all of you. Learn you from the inside out. Once I've held you like that, I'm not going to let go

Do you feel it? It's only the beginning, mo chridhe.

They’re merely a guard against anything accidental happening.

To Have and to Hoax by Martha Waters

...if you are going to insist on losing faith in someone the moment you see the slightest possibility that they have wronged you, you are going to have a very frustrating life.

I think I’m far too interested in too many things to excel at one single pursuit.

It seems that everything I have heard about you is true.

I am in need of some assistance and I think you are just the man to provide it.

If you’re determined to risk your wife’s reputation rather than have any sort of honest conversation with her…

I’ve never forgotten anything about you, Violet. About us.

But need I remind you that you are a marquess? At some point, you’ll have to produce an heir.

ou’re a reasonably handsome man, if one likes that sort of thing.

I want to be the man who deserves you, because you deserve everything.

I’d rather spend my days arguing with you than in calm conversation with anyone else in the world.

I only hope she can ever forgive me for taking such a damned long time to fully appreciate her.

If I should ever hear you refer to our son as your heir, I will ensure that you never see him.

I've nowhere to be this afternoon. I didn't see any reason to rush the proceedings.

The Raven Prince by Elizabeth Hoyt

I’ve heard some people say my temper is rather . . .

I wouldn’t want to intimidate you, Mrs. Wren.

A garden always has a point.

I am not a nice woman. But despite these facts, my word is gold.

I won’t marry you.

Why not? You were eager enough to fuck me.

I knew we had an attraction. Then you left and I realized you were taking what you felt for me and giving it to another woman. A woman you didn’t even know.

Why did men think that saying something louder made it true?

When a man betrays a woman in such a way, it breaks something in her that I’m not sure can ever be repaired.

I must have an heir. Do you understand? I must marry a woman who can bear children.

I'm not a whore, I'm a courtesan. There's a difference. Whores do it for the money, courtesans do it for the art.

It's never too late to start over and find yourself.

In order to love someone fully, you must first learn to love yourself.

To Catch an Heiress by Julia Quinn

Caroline, do you value your neck?

To call that writing, madam, is an insult to quills and ink across the world.

Not that I knew who you were until last month. But now that I've got you, I'm not letting you go.

Touch me and die.

It's just that I don't think friends tie friends to the bedpost.

You became my business when you took up residence in my house.

I need you. To-night. Right now. I need you.

I just don't care that he isn't offering a reward. In fact, I'm glad I'm much happier here than I was with any of my guardians.

We are here to discuss your foolhardy behavior.

You don’t want me to be your friend.

For the last time, I cannot be  your friend. I could never be your friend. Because I want you.

That’s not the point. You are my wife. I swore to protect you.

You can’t save the entire world.

Minx by Julia Quinn

You don't always have to kiss a lot of frogs to recognize a prince when you find one.

I don't know why people persist in believing women are inferior, when it is quite clear that men are the more feeble-minded of the two.

If I wanted Belle,I would have asked her to marry me.

Believe me, Henry, when I get angry, you'll know.

If this morning wasn't enjoyable, at least it was...shall we say...interesting.

You're a terrible rake, Dunford. Belle told me.

I was mistaken to think I could ever be enough of a woman to please you, to ever think that I could learn what it means to be anyone else but me.

I chose not to follow your advice. Ned is a very nice person. Handsome, personable—a perfect escort.

I very specifically told you to stay away from Ned Blydon.

Hush up, minx. You’re a funny one, but you’re certainly more likable than unlikable.

It takes a minx to tempt a rogue.

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

I hate Halsin's ending and here's why:

The thing I hate most, honestly, is the lack of continuity.

Halsin feels guilty for not being able to lift the Shadow Curse sooner and on his own:

"Thaniel is trapped in the Shadowfell, but thanks to you efforts, I know where to look. Now, I must go there - alone. [...] This opportunity has been a hundred years in the making. It has to be me, and only me."

"[...] I wasted too much time already - years in which nature has suffered."

"[...] Nature suffered while I dawdled, and allowed myself to be distracted."

Him about being Archdruid and the responsibilities as such:

"I wanted to try and find him [Thaniel], but we couldn't stay - we would have all succumbed. When the Archdruid of the Grove, my predeccessor, was seized by the curse, I had to lead the survivors to safety. That was my first day as Archdruid. An inauspicious beginning."

"I reveived a dispatch from the Grove [...] My chosen successor, Francesca, has proven to be a wise choice. Perhaps the wisest I ever made as Archdruid."

"I was all too eager to surrender my responsibilities towards the grove. Perhaps I was never meant to be Archdruid, to be a leader. [...] I cannot help but wonder if there was more I could have done. Perhaps I may yet have the chance some day."

"[...] I live for the wilderness. Comfort is for the farm animal, snug in its pen."

His plans on returning to the former Shadow-Cursed-Lands:

"Still, I would like to return here some day. See Thaniel and Oliver again - in my meditations, or perhaps in person, if the Oak Father wills it. I hope he does. [...] Anyway, once the curse is lifted, nature can take its course without me. I belong at your side."

His future plans:

"[...] The Shadow Curse occupied me so entirely and for so long... I almost miss the purpose it gave me. Now, I must find a new one."

"My mind still drifts to that dream I shared with you, for a better future for all those who need it... but that must wait. I remain yours of course."

Things he says to you regarding you relationship:

"I haven taken many lovers. My heart does not stir lightly. But it does now."

"You are all I want, but I won't hoard you to myself. Let others know the happiness of being with you."

"[...] The Grove became my family, with Silvanus as my teacher. And now, I have you."

"We shall triumph. Our time together does not end here."

"[...] So long as I am surviving, and I have you by my side, I am faring as well as anyone can be."

When breaking up with him:

"[...] If that's truly what you desire, I shall respect it. No matter how much I wish it was not the case. I will remain by your side whenever you wish, of course. As ally, advisor, friend... in any way you desire, safe for as a lover."

When you change your mind about breaking up:

"I'm glad you have reconsidered, but please don't trivially bring up such difficult topics. My heart can be wounded like any other "

"[...] I told you your heart is yours, but I do not wish for mine to be toyed with."

... and break up with him again (lol):

"Does it please you to see me crestfallen? That is the only reason I can think why you might toy with my heart like this."

"I warned you not to broach such matters lightly. Perhaps you care less for me than I supposed..."

Nicknames for Tav (at least the ones I heard):

"my love" and "my heart"

When being in a relationship with him and asking for having more partners:

"[...] Don't punish yourself on my account - remember we are both free to roam and love as we see fit."

"I'm glad you didn't feel the need to deprive yourself. To deny the most essential of impulses is to cut yourself off of nature."

"[...] I asked for freedom to follow my heart, and of course, I offer it in return."

"[...] I'm glad you shown yourself to be comfortable in exploring without me."

When in a relationship with him, having sex with Mizora and telling him you didn't enjoy it:

"[...] I'm sorry to hear that [...] I just hope it doesn't dissuade you from exploring nature's bounty. If you ever want to talk, my ears are all yours. Any part of me is yours, should you wish."

In conclusion:

Halsin feels guilty for not being able to lift the Shadow Curse sooner and on his own, wasting 100 years by doing so.

He feels like he failed as Archdruid and that he's not made for being a leader.

He doesn't want to settle down but roam.

The Shadow Curse was the only thing on his mind and his only purpose for 100 years.

He doesn't know what to do, now that the curse is lifted, and is looking for a new purpose.

He voices his wish to eventually see Thaniel again.

He's poly, had a lot of flings, and doesn't fall in love easily, but he fell hard for you.

He talks about sharing the future with you.

Halsin's ending:

"They [refugees & orphans] need help - help what this city cannot provide right now. I shall aid them to make a new place for themselves, in Thaniel's realm, under nature's watch. [...] There were nine whole wagons of children in tow. They are my duty now. 'Daddy Halsin', they call me. Who am I to tell them otherwise? We are each free, as we always were... but that does not to be the end. You must visit me soon [...] I shall have my own selfish reasons for wanting to see you again, if you wish the same."

How the game ends:

Halsin brings the refugees and orphans to Thaniel's lands, inevitably becoming a leader again and settling down.

He tells you to visit him, but doesn't ask you to join him, meaning he doesn't actually want to share that "dream I shared with you, for a better future for all those who need it", treating you like a normal fling instead of the love he claims you are.

It's a weird, unsatisfying ending, and honestly, most possible endings are. Baldur's Gate 3 is such an amazing game, but most endings feel incredibly rushed or unsatisfying (I'm especially glaring at the Karlach & Astarion endings, but that's for another rant). My dislike for the Halsin ending isn't that he doesn't magically turn monogamous, but that he tells you over and over again how much you mean to him ("You are all I want", "Anything for you, my heart") and then he just fucking leaves on his own without even asking if you want to join him. He's just like "I found a new purpose, bye, see ya, visit if you want to fuck."

It feels like the writers just gave up in the end - or didn't have enough time left to do it right (I get that, I work as a translator & editor). It just feels weird.

[kandlewick]

bites my hands bites my hands i cant keep myself from posting previews ok i cant i need the serotonin of posting something or ill die so heres a glimpse at my long cater fake dating fic where he uses you for clout OR DOES HE??????????? this dude is so emotionally constipated i am in love with him

"You haven't even told me what I'm agreeing to, Cater." You quickly avoided his eyes, mentally slapping yourself for the momentary weakness as your words made Cater freeze and advert his eyes as well, a small chuckle escaping him in a fit of nerves. He hid his mouth behind his phone but you could tell his lips were set in a nervous smile as he at least attempted to look embarrassed. You raised your eyebrow at him "What? Is it like, super embarrassing?"

Cater hummed, twirling a loose strand of hair between his forefinger, "I mean, I guess, yeah? It's nothing like, totes awful or anything but you're literally the only one I could ask to do this. Asking anyone else is a total no go and Cay-Cay needs the engagement. My numbers have been so awful lately and It's driving me absolutely cray-cray."

Cater looked almost cherubic with how he kept batting his eyelashes at you. It was extremely annoying how cute he looked when he was like this, like he knew he could get away with anything as long as he knew how to press the right buttons. With a heavy sigh, you slumped your shoulders and gestured for him to continue. He let out an excited whoop as he smiled, the diamond on his cheek crinkling with delight.

"Aaah~ My favorite freshie to the rescue! I owe you one~!!" Cater grinned, taking your willingness to hear him out as a sign of acceptance. He pulled you close by the shoulder and swiped at his phone with practiced precision, pulling up Magicam within seconds. You glanced up at him as his eyes seemed to gleam in excitement, his eagerness almost infectious, "So there's this fad going viral right now with this local cafe nearby that has a couples special! It's this super cute dessert that's all the rage on Magicam and I neeeed it!"

"Why can't you just get it yourself?" You ask, watching his phone screen as he continued to scroll down his feed. You noticed as well that nearly every other post was about that supposedly super cute couples only dessert and couples sharing it between quick kisses. It was almost voyeuristic with how many couples openly shared their PDA with strangers on the internet. Cater was quick to roll his eyes and tap the screen again with his finger.

"I told you, it's couples only! You have to prove you're a couple and act all lovey-dovey for them to even consider handing it over!" He pouted, "Look, you know that I can't stand sweet stuff so when we're there, I'll buy you however much you want in exchange. You can even eat the special dessert! All I want is one little photo and a small itty bitty teeny weeny lil smooch~"

[dxngosstuff]

Does the Moonlight Shine On Paris? (viii) | Finale

Idol!Yoon Jeonghan x Idol!f!Reader

1k words ; cw : none I m.list tags: friends to lovers; fluff; minor angst; idol au; elements of slowburn; second male lead scoups;

Yoon Jeonghan realizes a few things about you after sharing a drink with you in Paris.

It was around 2:00 AM when you finished practicing the choreography for your upcoming comeback. Your schedule is about to get even more hectic since the preparations for it have just begun. Usually, you'd be home earlier than this but you really wanted to get the choreo down. The other dancers have already left before you and you insisted on staying. Hence, the reason why you were alone in the studio now.

Suddenly, your phone started to ringing while you were getting ready to leave. ‘Who would call me at 2 in the morning?’ You thought to yourself.

Joy immediately replaced your confusion and your eyes lit up when you saw the caller's name on the screen. But, you wondered why Jeonghan was calling because he would usually text first before anything else to make sure you were available.

“Hey! What's up? Why are you still awake?” You answered gleefully.

“…”

You raised your eyebrow at the silence that was coming from the other side of the line. Thinking maybe he must've accidentally dialed your number.

Eager to get some sort of response from him you asked, "Uh, Hannie. Are you there?"

"Mhm..." He finally answered.

"Phew. I thought you got kidnapped or something. What's going on?" You laughed.

Your ears were once again met with silence before he answered. "Nothing… I just wanted to hear your voice. I love your laugh, by the way. Wish I could hear it in person right now." His voice sounded groggy and some words sounded slurred. From the sound of it, you guessed that he was probably drinking.

"Did you drink?" You inquired.

He replied slowly with noticeable pauses in his phrases, as if thinking carefully about what he was going to say, "Yeah... A little bit... With Seungcheol. He found out about us… But it's all good… I'll explain to you tomorrow when I'm feeling sober.”

You gulped, worrying about how the whole situation turned out. "So, you guys didn’t fight or anything?"

"Heh... we didn’t so don’t worry. I can take you out on all the dates that I can now." He smiled then took a deep breath before he continued.

"Y/N... I'll never make you cry or feel neglected or pushed aside. If you ever feel unsure of what we have, I'll give you all the assurance you need. Heck, l'd even run to you right now if it was the fastest way to get to you. All you have to do is ask, my princess."

All of a sudden he sounded sober. It was like his thoughts were laid bare in front of you. You were a firm believer that drunk words are sober thoughts. And here he was saying all of his heart’s contents out loud. He did tell you that he liked you after your little movie date but this is more than you expected from him. It made you feel warm and fuzzy, similar to the feeling you felt when you first kissed him

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to let it all out... But I just wanted you to know how I feel about you." He continued.

"Thank you, Hannie. I… appreciate it and I really like you. You know that, right?" You bit your lip anticipating his response. You couldn’t come up with more words because of how your mind went blank over the affection you were receiving but God knows, if you could just give him a big warm hug right now, you most definitely would.

“Ahh… I like you too. A lot. I just want you to know that I’m ready to take the risk with you. Anywhere. Anytime.”

‘God. I must like Jeonghan more than I thought.’ You tried to cover your face with your hand that was unoccupied by the phone. The blood was now rushing to your face and all the way to your ears. And you were sure that if anyone was in the room right now, you’d never hear the end of it.

Your conversation was lengthy but filled with endearment. His drunk ramblings would stay in your mind for the days on end and whether he would remember it all tomorrow or not was not an issue to you as his drunk thoughts would now become the secrets that you would keep close to your heart.

—

3 months later

“Hannie!”

You open the door for your boyfriend. It’s been three months since you and Jeonghan started dating and you’ve never been happier. Tonight, you were having dinner together with the meal that you cooked for the both of you.

“I missed you so much.” He wrapped his arms around your waist while you gave him a hug above the shoulders. You gave each other the tightest squeeze you could.

He gave you a peck on the lips, still not letting go. “I missed you, too.” You answered.

You had just finished your promotions and it was his idea to celebrate it at your apartment so that you could rest a bit yet spend time together.

“Come on, the food’s gonna get cold.” The hug was broken off and you grabbed his hand instead to lead him to the dining table. He fixed the chair for you to sit on before getting to the seat in front of you.

In the time you’ve been dating, Jeonghan has been nothing but a gentleman to you. You’ve seen sides to him that you wouldn’t have seen if it weren’t for your girlfriend privileges. Yes, he would tease you sometimes but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. But mind you, you had a couple of incidents you could tease him on as well. Like how it turned out that he was crushing on you for years or how he would drunk call you and be all mushy. Although Jeonghan would never be ashamed about how he loves you, he would sometimes cringe at the things he would say, thinking it was so out-of-character of him to say those things. But nonetheless, you were the only one that could bring that side of him out.

After shortly rummaging through his bag beside him, he pulled out a long box. “Here it is. I think it would go wonderful with the steak tonight.”

“Oh my…” You looked at the familiar packaging in your boyfriend’s hand. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Yep. It’s the same brand of wine we had in Paris. I bought it when Dino and I went back to Paris for a schedule.” He smiled at you before handing you the wine bottle.

Memories of that night flooded you as you remembered how you and Jeonghan shared your thoughts with each other. “This is kinda making me feel emotional for some reason.” The rush of emotions was evident in your tone.

Jeonghan sat in front of you again after getting the cork screw from your kitchen drawer. At this point, he has been in your house multiple times to the point where he now knows where everything is. It was his second home after all.

“Say… If we didn’t share a bottle of wine that night would we be here right now?” You wondered while still staring at it in your hands.

“I’m not quite sure about that myself. But I am sure about one thing.” He took your hand.

“What is that?”

He then kissed your hand and said, “I would’ve still found a way to be with you, regardless.”

You smiled at him and put the bottle down, putting all your focus on him. “Oh, Hannie. I love you so so much.”

“I love you too, my princess.”

The moment made you realize how thankful you were that you shared some wine with him that night. Oh, how glad it made you feel that you went out of your hotel room that night instead of watching some random series on Netflix to fight your jet lag. If it weren’t for that, you wouldn’t have realized how amazing it was to love and be loved by the man in front of you.

‘Please, may he be the last man I’ll ever love.’ You thought to yourself as you casually thank Paris for the magic it brought to the two of you.

-END-

prev

author’s note: thank you so so much for everybody’s support! this series has officially come to an end! (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀) i initially had it planned as a oneshot due to the chokehold that PFW jeonghan had on me but i’m glad that it was able to make it to 8 chapters. i’m planning to post an athlete!seungcheol oneshot soon so i can at least use my 2+ years of training in jiu-jitsu. lmao.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (11/?)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Word Count: 3034

Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

Chapter Summary: As Arianwyn adapts to her new surroundings, and Aemond heals from his wound, the pair take comfort in the letters they exchange.

Warnings: None.

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @thelittleswanao3,@trap-house-homiecide

Author's Note: This one came to me quickly! I hope y'all enjoy. And bonus points to anyone who can correctly identify the historical source of the phrase "dearest friend!"

Also, there have been some questions about the timeline in this chapter - it doesn't match either the books or the show, so I feel the need to clarify. Before I started writing this, I went over both the book and show timelines thoroughly. However, neither really made sense to me in terms of the appropriate ages for characters for the story I wanted to tell. So, I sat down and made my own timeline! It is very different from both the show and the books, but it is the best fit for my story. Maybe once I wrap this up I can share it with y'all, if that would be something you're interested in!

I'm sorry if these discrepancies bother some of you. But it is, after all, the mantra of fic writers that canon is only a suggestion!

Dearest Friend

Aemond,

I am sorry it has taken so long for me to write to you. So much has happened since I watched you fly from Driftmark on Vhagar.

Oh, what a sight that was! I had not been able to appreciate her fully in the moonlight. From where I watched in the tower – the very one you flew from – I could truly grasp her massive size and see her scales gleaming. Truly, the gods must have a sense of humor, giving you the bronze dragon and me the black.

Emrys was distressed when you all left without us. I could hear him wailing for Dreamfyre from my rooms. But I cannot blame him; I felt very much the same. I miss you – all of you – very much.

We did not linger for long at Driftmark after Ser Laenor’s funeral. It was not as grand an affair as Laena’s. I had the sense that Corlys and Rhaenys were eager for us to leave – I do not think they like either Rhaenyra or my father very well. I cannot blame them. Neither has said a word to me since we arrived on Dragonstone five days ago. I suppose it is the best outcome I could hope for, for I know Daemon to be capable of much worse.

Have you heard that Daemon and Rhaenyra were married? It happened only two days ago. I was not in attendance at the ceremony. I almost wish I was, as it was done in the Valyrian tradition. It would have been fascinating to see in reality what I have only read about and imagined for so long. But I could not have stood to be around my father for so long – to witness him in a moment of joy. I would have been sick, I think.

I have been settled in rooms in the opposite wing from the rest of them. For this, I am grateful, for it means I do not have to see my sisters, or Jace and Luke (who are now my brothers, I suppose), more often than is necessary. While I am allowed to break my fast and take my luncheon in my own rooms, I am still required to attend dinner with the family.

The first few meals, Jace and Baela tried mocking me. Baela talked about how she wished for the cuts on my face to scar so that I would never forget what happened that night. Jace tried to goad me by heaping praise on his brother for what he did to you. Though I wished to shove the entire table down their throats, I pretended not to hear them. Like Aegon, they lost interest once they realized they would get no reaction from their victim.

So now I simply sit in silence and eat my food – which on this barren island consists mainly of fish, which you know I hate. As soon as the meal is done, I retreat back to my rooms. Though it is lonely without Brynna and the rest of my companions from King’s Landing and Runestone, it is better than facing Daemon and the rest. I never thought I would, but I find myself praying for my father to continue ignoring me.

But oh! I am selfish. I have not asked anything of you. How was the ride on Vhagar? Have you ridden her since? Surely she cannot fit in the Dragonpit, so where does she lie?

And most importantly, how is your wound? Are you reading this letter yourself, or is Orwyle reading it for you? If he is, let him know how much I appreciate him, and that I hope he is treating you gently.

Please write back to me soon. I have not yet been brave enough to try and find the library here, so I am near to going mad with boredom.

Arianwyn

Sent to the Red Keep from Dragonstone on the 19th day in the third month of the year, 131 years after Aegon’s Conquest.

-

Arianwyn,

I am immeasurably glad to hear you are unharmed. My mother, Helaena, and I were so worried what Daemon would do once you were in his grasp. We will continue to pray that you remain safe and well.

Do not apologize for not writing – my happiness should be the least of your concerns while you are living among enemies. My mother has written to your cousin, Ser Gerold, and Lady Arryn, your Godsmother. Our hope is that they will come to the capital to petition the King for your return, and that they will be able to succeed where we could not.

I am pleased that you were so impressed with Vhagar. I have not been able to ride her since we arrived back in the capital, as Maester Orwyle continues to insist on my drinking tremendous amounts of milk of the poppy to numb my pain –I am not even sure I have any pain; he has not given me a chance to feel it. He is treating me gently, overbearingly so. He treats me as if I am a helpless, petulant child!

Your guess is correct. He is reading for me. And writing. And every other damn thing. It is only my eye that is wounded, and yet he acts as though I have been rendered incapable of even independent thought.

Arianwyn, please forgive my interjection into the Prince’s many complaints. If I indeed treat him as a “petulant child,” it is only because he acts like one. Be assured, if I did not place such restrictions on him, I am sure he would overexert himself and end up injured worse than he is now. – Orwyle

Enough about overbearing Orwyle. You asked about Vhagar.

She is so wonderful, Aria! Aegon was right, she did not need a single command from me to make her way back to King’s Landing. I think she was happy to return to the land of her youth, after so long across the sea. She flew around and around the city, frightening all the small folk, and even the nobles in the castle – they were not expecting to see such a massive dragon!

She did try to enter the Dragonpit, but you are correct, she is much too large. She has instead taken residence in the empty Tourney Grounds. Where she will go when we actually have a tourney, I have no idea. As soon as Orwyle lets me off his gods damned sedatives, I will take to the skies once more.

You did not mention how Emrys was. Have you been able to ride him? If you are so permitted, perhaps we could arrange a place to meet. There must be some clearings in the Kingswood large enough for both our dragons. Or you could just return to the Keep – come home. With me and Vhagar to defend you, surely Daemon would not try and force you to return.

Perhaps this is the milk of the poppy speaking. But I miss you very much. There are so many people at the castle, but it still feels empty without you. Even the library doesn’t feel right when you are not here to read with me.

I asked my mother about my sending you books, or some of your things from your rooms here, but she said no. It would require a great cost, and we cannot be sure that Daemon would not turn the ship away.

I am so sorry for your loneliness. I wish there was something I could do to give you comfort.

Aemond

Sent to Dragonstone from the Red Keep on the 24th day in the third month of the year, 131 years after Aegon’s Conquest.

-

Aemond,

Your words give me great comfort, which is increasingly hard to find. I have read your letter over and over again, for when I read your words, it feels for a moment as if I am not truly alone.

I have heard from my cousin. As I write this, he is sailing for King’s Landing. Lady Arryn will be not far behind him. I have never met her, but it warms my heart that she cares so much for the memory of my mother that she would make such a journey for me.

However, I am hesitant to hope that their words will sway the King. From what your mother told me, he was sincere in his absurd belief that my presence will soften Daemon. And now that he is wed to Rhaenyra, I fear he will be even less likely to bring me home. Besides, I am hesitant to trust him after the way he treated you at Driftmark.

As for your daring plan for my escape, I am afraid it will not be possible.

I had not the courage to approach my father with the question of my mounting Emrys again. But I mentioned my desire to ride him again to my maid, a woman by the name of Kiyara. I have suspected since I arrived that all my servants were reporting my every move to Daemon. My suspicions were confirmed when the next morning, I received a note from him as I broke my fast. It said:

“I am almost impressed by your boldness. But I must not have made myself clear. You will not leave this castle until I say otherwise. You needn’t fret for the little black dragon. He has been made comfortable in the volcanic tunnels. He is unrestrained, and has been spotted flying across the bay to hunt with Vermithor. He is most happy amongst the other unclaimed dragons.

If I knew how to reach Emrys, I would burn this whole wretched island to the ground.

My ignorance is my greatest weakness. I am utterly lost in this monstrosity of a castle. Were it not for the guards leading the way each night, I am sure I would get lost trying to find my rooms after dinner.

I feel so helpless, Aemond. I thought that as long as I had Emrys, I could endure whatever Daemon did to me. But now, I am a Targaryen without a dragon, and a Royce without armor. How will I ever survive?

Arianwyn

Sent to the Red Keep from Dragonstone on the 31st day in the third month of the year, 131 years after Aegon’s Conquest.

-

Arianwyn,

Just send word and I will fly Vhagar across the Blackwater and burn the island down for you. Curse of the Kinslayer be damned. It would be worth it to save you and Emrys.

But I speak in anger. A righteous anger to be sure, but still anger. To do so would have consequences beyond my control and comprehension.

All I can think of to do is pass on the note from Daemon to my father when Ser Gerold and Lady Arryn arrive. Even he cannot deny the cruelty in denying you your dragon.

The fact that you have not even seen Emrys since you arrived makes me hesitant to mention my progress with Vhagar. But I know you will want to hear – perhaps it will cheer you.

I have at last been able to ride her again, now that Orwyle has given up on being my jailer. It is just as wonderful as it was that night. Why did you never tell me how thrilling it was? Yes, you told me of the wind in your hair, the sight of people and towns below shrinking to nothing as you climb higher and higher, but you never told me how it set the blood ablaze. When I mount Vhagar, I feel as though I could conquer the world.

But I don’t want to conquer the world, Aria. I just want to save you.

Aemond

Sent to Dragonstone from the Red Keep on the 6th day in the fourth month of the year, 131 years after Aegon’s Conquest.

-

Aemond,

Let us write no more of my escape. Until we know it to be true, or at least have reason to truly hope, the thought serves only to sadden me.

Instead, tell me only of happy things – things to bring me light and joy as I sit alone in my gloomy tower.

How is Helaena? She and Aegon will be married soon. I wish I could be there to help her prepare. I had great plans for her gown. She has shown me so many of insects over the years, though I often wished she hadn’t. I was going to embroider the prettier ones on the skirts of her wedding gown. I thought that if she had them with her, she would not be so afraid. Perhaps you can ask your mother to do it for me.

What are you reading now? I have at last found the library here, but it is a pitiful thing. What books there are concern mostly warfare and its history. That is of no interest to me. And while there are many books on Old Valyria, they are only what we have already read. There are only a handful of collections of fairy stories. I will soon devour them all, and I have no idea what I will do then.

Please, do not hesitate to tell me more of Vhagar. If I cannot ride Emrys, your stories are my only way to the skies. I always told you that you would be the fiercest dragonrider since Aegon (the Conqueror, not your brother, obviously). Consider that now a promise. When I see you next, I want to be awed by what you and Vhagar can do together.

Arianwyn – the girl in the tower

Sent to the Red Keep from Dragonstone on the 10th day in the fourth month of the year, 131 years after Aegon’s Conquest.

-

Arianwyn,

I pray we will find that hope soon. Ser Gerold and Lady Arryn arrived today. My father will hear their petitions tomorrow. With luck, you will be home in time for the wedding.

My mother says she will begin embroidering Helaena’s dress for you. She says that she is sure her work will not be as beautiful as yours would be, but she has fallen out of practice in recent years. Helaena is very excited to see the finished gown, but that seems to be the only thing that interests her about the wedding. I don’t blame her, I would not want to marry Aegon either. But it is their duty, and we must always perform our duty.

I don’t know that I can be called “fierce” yet. After so long firmly planted on the ground, adapting myself to the skies can be, well, a little frightening. Vhagar is used to more daring riders than I, so she likes to fly in an equally daring manner. I am now convinced that her dive on the night I claimed her was her going easy on me. She has since flown me in ways I could have never imagined.

She has a particular fondness for flying upside-down! The first time she did so, I screamed as loud as I could for her to right us – I was afraid I could not hang onto the saddle – but she did not listen. I could only hold to the horns as tightly as I could until she at last swung around. As soon as we landed, I immediately ordered more straps to be added to the saddle to spare my aching arms.

She will make me fierce, there is no doubt about that. But with the blessings of the Seven, you will see me again before I can become the “fiercest dragonrider singe Aegon.”

Aemond, the novice dragonrider

Sent to Dragonstone from the Red Keep on the 17th day in the fourth month of the year, 131 years after Aegon’s Conquest.

-

Lady Arianwyn,

I wish I could write to you with better news. Lady Arryn and I were unable to secure your release from Daemon Targaryen and Dragonstone.

We were able to convince the King to make some concessions – threatening to move the armies of the Vale against Daemon will do that. He will immediately send a raven to Dragonstone to command that you will be allowed access to your dragon. The note Aemond gave us to show him did enrage the old man.

He is a clever boy, that one. He took me to your chambers in the Red Keep to show me the work you two have done deciphering the Runes. I am immensely impressed. I will be asking your Maester Orwyle to make a copy of your translations, that I may take it back to Runestone with me for our own library.

Speaking of Runestone, Lady Arryn and I were also able to convince the King to send your attendants from the Vale to Dragonstone. Their presence was a crucial part of our original agreement, and it will continue to be enforced now that Daemon has you. You may not be able to return to Runestone just yet, but it will still be with you through them.

I am so sorry that I was not able to free you from that man. The King still foolishly believes that his brother can still be saved. You and I know the truth: Daemon is a monster.

You are strong, my dear. Perhaps even stronger than your mother. I have no doubt that you will survive this, and when you at last return home to the Vale, no one will ever be able to command you again.

Ser Gerold Royce, Lord Regent of Runestone

Sent to Dragonstone from the Red Keep on the 20th day in the fourth month of the year, 131 years after Aegon’s Conquest.

-

Aemond,

Never stop writing. It is all I have.

You are my dearest friend.

Arianwyn

Sent to the Red Keep from Dragonstone on the 22nd day in the fourth month of the year, 131 years after Aegon’s Conquest.

-

My dearest friend,

I will write every day. So long as I am alive, you will never be alone.

Aemond

Sent to Dragonstone from the Red Keep on the 25th day in the fourth month of the year, 131 years after Aegon’s Conquest.

Next Chapter

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

Prompt: “you make me happy. that's all that matters.”

For Tolya x Reader please!!

Ask and you shall receive

To Willingly Belong To Anyone Is A Rare Thing - Tolya Yul Bataar

Content Warnings: Implied Threat And Violence. Confined Spaces (Forced Proximity Trope Anyone?). No Beta/Proof Reading, We Die In The Fold Baby. ((Does this feel ooc I am insecure and cannot tell))

"We need to go," You insist.

Tolya is still searching one of the many draws in the room for something but he hasn't told you what. Despite being sent on this job together, him at the request of Sturmhond, and you at the request of Brekker, it seems that there is a lot about this job you aren't telling each other. But more accurately there is just a lot you two aren't telling each other at all.

You had tried to argue that going with Tolya wouldn't work, that the two of you could not work together, not because you didn't like him, but because of the opposite, you liked him too much, and it was a distraction you had to balance whenever he was around.

Brekker had told you to take the job with Tolya or not take the job at all, and knowing how invested you were, you'd known that he knew you couldn't turn the job down. So you'd taken it, and your concerns about being not fully present for the job due to your company were not unfounded, but so far they hadn't gotten you into any trouble you hadn't been able to get yourself out of.

Except now. Had it been anyone else you would've had enough, and left without them, or dragged them out of the room yourself. But Tolya, was not the type of man you could drag places, besides you had a small but not unreasonable fear that if you grabbed him you would give far too many things away about yourself that you weren't sure you were willing to share.

"Tolya," you start. His back straightens and he turns to you, holding a finger to his lips. "Toly-,"

"Shush," he hushes you, listening carefully.

"Saints," you whisper, "what now?"

"Six heartbeats on the second floor, approaching," Tolya explains quietly.

"We were supposed to be in and out unnoticed," you remind him.

"I was under direct instructions for there to be no casualties," Tolya states.

"I was under direct instructions to not get caught," you reply.

"They're coming this way," Tolya says, backing away from the door.

"But there is no other exit," you say gesturing to how you would not be able to climb out of the rooms singular small window, yet again Tolya.

"Then we hide," Tolya says, taking your hand and pulling you further back into the room and through some thin bamboo doors that lead into a small but relatively bare closet.

Tolya had wondered why Nikolai had sent him on this task, although he wasn't eager to question any job he was sent on when you were involved it did seem strange that given the nature of the mission was covert, that Tolya would be the one to be sent on it. Then again Tamar although substantially smaller in size than her brother, had much more of a habit of making herself known.

Tolya keeps listening, as you keep as quiet as you can in the small space, your back pressed up against Tolya's chest. He can hear the heartbeats as two men go a further floor up, and four continue towards the room. The sounds of rushing, and strange fast paced drums, the sounds of mixed languages and butchered linguistics echo through the emptiness of the rooms.

"How long do we have to stay here?" you ask.

"We have to wait it out," he replies. You exhale deeply and Tolya can feel the way the blood rushes around your body, so close to him it's impossible to ignore you. Not that he has ever found it easy to ignore you, not that he has ever wanted to.

"It's been a while," you say quietly. You could not stand this time in silence, and a quiet whisper through two doors was no threat to you right now. Those four words were so simple as they left your mouth but they meant so much more than they said and both of you know it.

You had missed him, even if you hadn't tried to, and he had missed you.

"That's why I took the job," you say, finally admitting it to yourself. For all your fussing about wanting to be clear of mind and not distracted, the louder part of you wanted to see Tolya again, it needed to see Tolya again, even if it wasn't practical. Even if you knew you shouldn't.

Something in Tolya speaks to you in a way you've never known before. It makes you calm. It makes you happy. It makes you feel like home.

Tolya realises in this moment, you so close to him, the air hung in this quiet suspense as you could do nothing but stay still and hope. Those drums he had been hearing before, all the way into the building and even now, they weren't drums at all, they were his own heartbeat, and yours. He was not sure how things would work, this life was messy and complex and you both had things you owed loyalty to, both had purposes you must fulfil, but here with you in the quiet, waiting and unknown, the question of how it would work doesn't matter to him anymore. Because love works like love does, with or without permission, with or without practicality. When it came down to it, he loves you, and he cannot and will not run from that fact. Rare is a love so honest, a love that creeps up on you, rare a love that loves without caring for love in return, but receiving it gladly. He loves listening to you talk, he loves the way your voice changes as you are filled with excitement, he loves how you never know exactly when you should stop. He admires your confidence, and he loves the willpower behind it. He misses you when you are gone. He was yours, he was already yours, he had been yours for so long he wasn't sure he knew how to be anything else. He didn't want to be anything else.

He knew he would not care to be anyone else's.

And you did not need to be his for all that to be true. But something in him understands that you are, that you have been, and as he will continue to be yours, you will continue to be his.

"Come back with me," he says.

"What?" you ask a little too loud. You raise you hand to your mouth, disappointed in your own surprise and foolishness.

"Come back with me," he says again, voice gentle. You cannot see him, the space in this closet too small for you to turn around and look at him but you know exactly the type of gentle glow that will be in those golden eyes of his.

"Tolya I can't," you say. "I want to, but it would never work. I think," you sigh, not wanting to admit the words you are about to speak but knowing you must say them nonetheless, "I think I would get in the way of you."

“You make me happy," Tolya whispers. "That's all that matters.”

"All that matters?" You ask.

"We can figure everything else out," he says, and then wonders if maybe he misunderstood, "I just... I do not like being away from you, but if you do not wish to-,"

"Tolya, every moment I am with you, you cloud my every thought, and yet every moment you are away my soul tries to find it's way back to you," you say, you're no Heartrender but you feel his heartbeat as it steadies with your words, calmer as you talk. "There is nothing I would want more than to go with you."

"Then say you will," he says, "and when we get out of here, we can figure it all out," his hands move to gently wrap around you, holding you closer in this small space, making you feel safe, making you feel at home. "Just say you will."

"And the duty owed to family. Do I satisfy my long craving self Failing to respect responsibility? Or to my lover's vows turn deaf And pay homage to ageing sagacity?" Your Ravkan is far from perfect as you recite the words that you had heart Tolya state so long ago, back when you had first met, and you thought you could love him, but you decided it would be wiser not to, and then did anyway.

"Even poets can be wrong," Tolya says. "And yet."

"And yet?" you ask.

"I am no longer good through deliberate intent, but by long habit have reached a point where I am not only able to do right, but am unable to do anything but what is right."

"Okay," you whisper sinking back into him.

"Okay?" he asks.

"I'll go with you Tolya, wherever you go in this life and after."

[skylarbee]

Is it just me but watching the interaction with Miles and Al. Alex seems to not only not initiate a hug he also pushes Miles away while Miles is so eager to talk to him etc. Body language is not good. Also maybe it’s Miles that wants to keep the friendship going. Like we know of Alex wants someone around he’ll have them around and be affectionate. What if Miles is just like all his other exs? Once he loses interest it’s very obvious, the lack of sightings together, lack of physical affection. I really do believe there’s a distance in them. In so many ways. Musically, aesthetically, artistically, insteresta. What if they are just two old friends, who do love each other, but, at least for Alex, they are just not that into each other? I love Milex but im also realistic. What if their friendship isn’t some big breakup but like a distancing? My hopes for TLSP3 is nonexistent. Anyone else care to chime in? Sorry for the incoherence🖤

i understand your concerns lovely, and things are definitely different than before. but even in older concerts when miles joined them, there were plenty times when it was miles who went up to alex, and it's alex who let go first. it would seem like miles wants it to work more, but the fact that he has social media and posts about alex, while alex doesn't also affects our thinking, even if we don't realise it. alex has absolutely no way of telling us anything about miles, and he disappears for long periods of times, no wonder we think he's more disinterested, but this could be far from the truth.

there is one thing that you did get wrong, anon, and that is that miles is "just another ex". the connection they have is something beyond our understanding, and i'm sure most of us have never experienced something even close to what they have. the way they complete and understand each other is something that is hard to believe it even exists. as to alex's body language, he seemed a bit emotional, disconnected and nervous (and still put on a 10/10 show!) for the entirety of the last gig, and it's no wonder why. he was staring off into space and didn't even realise that he was waiting for miles to bring him back to reality. but even after their little handshake before 505, when alex looks equally as lost, he seems to liven up and prepare himself after miles goes over to him. i don't believe he loves miles any less, i think he's still his safe space. their kisses at london night 3 were something else.

while they might not see each other as often as they used to, miles has mentioned a good couple of times that they hang around his place, and anyways, he doesn't have to tell us anything. they might see and talk to each other a lot more than we think. speaking of interests, i want to believe that they're still pretty tight. i remember when miles posted a song on his story and then a few days later it appeared on am's pre-show playlist. this is just one thing, but they've always liked the same things, or if i want to be more precise, alex has always adapted whatever miles was into, let it be music, films, clothes, and whatever else. but let us also remember that time and distance changes people, of course their interests are gonna change too, but this doesn't have to be a negative thing. at least they have new things to share with each other and more to talk about! hahah

i'd love to hear other people's thoughts, but don't be too worried, anon. this last leg of am's tour showed us that they're still very fond of each other. why else would miles describe it as 'paradise' and 'the week of his life'? and why would alex so unashamedly serenade miles for an entire night?

[lemonzestywrites]

soo uhhh im still alive-

i know so many of you have been tagging me in tag games and i swear i see them but i was unfornutantly busy this week 🫣 i am alive still and ive added like a good 3k so here's a little feast in payment for my absence

✨(nsfw below the cut!)✨ also prepare yourselves its a long one

“You know what I’ve found out?” Buck asks his voice a devilish whisper of temptation and desire, the kind of coy taunting of everything Eddie wants so badly. Every coherent thought feels like it's nothing more than a semblance of a memory. All of it flutters and dissipates too quickly, like fog on an early morning day. Everything else around him feels so distant, only reduced to everything right in front of him- to the warmth of Buck’s hand, the rampant pleasure that coils through Eddie wildly, the ropes around his wrists. He can’t even begin to form words right now, he can’t even think of a fucking way to respond to Buck outside of the breathless gasps that are spewing out from him. Thankfully, Buck doesn’t seem to mind it, if anything, he seems to thrive off watching Eddie writhe beneath him, absolutely beaming as he does too. “You have a tell. For right when you’re about to come.”

The words just barely manage to process in Eddie’s mind even as they land with a low, hushed tone, the same kind of reverence saved for confession. Except there’s no guilt or shame carried in Buck’s words. A secret nonetheless, but one shared between the two of them. A string of shared connection. A kind of intimacy never shared with anyone else.

Eddie’s not sure what this feeling is entirely. The lack of heated humiliation carried in his chest is his best guess that this is so incredibly new.

And oddly enough…he’s okay with that. The presence of something else settling in place, offering him a kind of comfort he didn’t know he could get. That he didn’t think he was allowed.

But it’s offered to him so freely. So effortlessly.

Eddie can’t help but want to fall into it. Sinking further and further into this kind, safe headspace he’s found himself in. One where fear and anxiety can’t reach him, and instead, there’s nothing offered to him but endless bliss.

Above him, he watches as Buck leans in closer, diving down to the side of Eddie’s neck, a gesture Eddie can’t even question before he feels a pair of soft lips graze his skin.

He tilts his head unconsciously, allowing Buck more access, a motion that has Buck beaming into the crook of his throat. He nips teasingly at the skin, taking pleasure in the surprised sound that escapes from Eddie. The warmth quickly pulls away before brushing back up against Eddie’s cheek. He hears Buck hum to himself, no doubt a pleased smile speaking across his lips as he slowly presses himself up against Eddie’s side.

“It makes for such a pretty sight, too,” he whispers. His wrist curls on the upstroke, sending a sharp wave of pure liquid bliss up Eddie’s spine. Holy fucking shit. A bit more precome leaks from him, likely making an even bigger mess of Buck’s hand. But he just feels Buck press a wolfish smile into his skin, using it to slick his hand further. “Your head tilted back, your breath picking up…” his words drift off, leaving whatever remnants of Eddie’s read that are still clear to be sent running with the imagery.

The whole thing feels so out of body. The mental picture of imagining himself lying there, arms tied above his head, the absolute image of debauched bliss, his cock hard and leaking in Buck’s palm, all the while he keeps Eddie balancing that perfect edge of everything he so desperately wants but can never have quite yet.

There’s a moan that gets pried out of him. Eddie’s not entirely sure if it’s in part from his own sinful mind or the eager way Buck’s tongue traces the curve of his jaw, teasing the idea ever so slightly of leaving a mark right there for the world to see.

Something about it, the very hint of temptation that laced within the motion that sends Eddie’s head damn near spinning. “Please.” He’s not sure what he’s asking for. He’s not sure that he cares.

Buck’s hand doesn’t change in pace, but his grip tightens just ever so slightly. The pressure is enough to drive Eddie fucking wild. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to keep forcing himself to fucking breathe, even when he’s not sure he can retain any amount of air.

But obviously, it doesn’t stop there. Buck works his mouth softly, pressing open-mouth kisses along his pulse point, his thumb now working in tandem in the motion as he passes it gently along the slit of his cock. “Your mouth dropping open, trying to keep all those sweet little sounds at bay,” he murmurs, his voice sounding so close and so far. “Your eyes fluttering shut cause it just feels too good."

“Buck,” Eddie gasps, not sure if he can form any other words- express any other desire. He wants to come. He wants it so badly. He just needs Buck to get him there.

“How does it feel, Eddie?” Buck teases. “As good as you thought it’d be?”

Better, he wants to yell. He’s experiencing a feeling he never knew existed. A serenity he never thought he could reach.

He honestly couldn’t more fucking glad Buck’s questions are rhetorical now cause Eddie is just barely managing to process the words, and he doubts there’s any way for him to form a semblance of a response. Not now. Not like this. Not when everything feels so good.

It’s like someone lit a match to his gasoline-doused body, and now Eddie is drowning in the flames. And it’s the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to him.

afotalwcs taglist - @eddiebabygirldiaz @your-catfish-friend @giddyupbuck @jeeyuns @artemis-the-sinister

[beneathashadytree]

Hello! I’m new to your blog but am already absolutely in awe at how you write for One Piece. Your writing is so comforting I’m in love with it. It’s lovely!

I have sort of a out of the ordinary request for you? (I’m not sure if I should call it that or what to be honest with you.) But I would love a one shot where the reader has a platonic but very comforting friendship with Nami from One Piece. But the type of bond where they’re almost like siblings. Just besties ya know? I’d love a situation where Nami was cheering the reader up! (This isn’t an emergency a request by any means.) but I’ve been in such a crappy mood lately. So some bestie comfort is something I’d love to read if you’re willing to write it! Either way thank you so much. I wish you nothing but the best.

SPECIAL TREATMENT - NAMI X READER

Warnings : this is purely platonic, this is not proofread either, implied nudity (nothing sexual at all though), reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : absolute fluff and comfort

Word count : 1.2K words

Additional notes : Ahhh thank you so much for being so sweet! I’m very much in love with the characters, so you’ll see that I’m pretty passionate about writing for them 🥰 I absolutely adored this idea, since I love how Nami is as a friend. She’s so affectionate (like she is with Usopp) and—money matters aside—very much an acts of service/quality time type of person. Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I loved writing it! 💗

Requests : Are open! Check the rules over here.

Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp!

Masterlist

“Five star treatment coming your way,” a cheery voice came from their left, causing them to turn around and face her. Nami stood with a bright grin, hands busy with the heavy weight of Sanji’s snack tray laden with an assortment of the most vibrant treats anyone could think of. At the sight of the mango-lemon parfaits, kiwi macarons, white chocolate-coated strawberries, and sugared crêpes drizzled with chocolate syrup, and passionfruit smoothie, their eyes brightened up.

They noted that all the snacks were in pairs, which indicated that the navigator really had intended on sharing the sunny ambiance on deck with them. True to how it seemed, she settled down on the chaise lounge next to theirs, sliding her sunglasses on her face as she began to dig in herself.

Reaching out for the parfait, they arched an eyebrow at her. “What’s the occasion?”

She shrugged, “Sanji offered, and I didn’t really want to say no. He made a whole bunch of stuff, so I thought we could share it?”

The whole thing seemed a little suspicious, and their gaze at her said that much, but they couldn’t really complain; not when the ice cream melted perfectly on their tongue and the fruit remedied the sweetness with its slightly sour tang. “Sanji’s got it right on the nose this time. I really was in the mood for something refreshing.”

“Well, you better be in the mood for hearing what I have to tell you…”

***

After an hour of pleasant sunbathing and mindless chattering, Nami stretched out—quite endearingly similar to a cat—and turned to them with an eager look shining in her eyes. “What d’you say you get into the bathtub? I’ll prep things up for you.”

Their eyes grew wide, “Oh, but you said you’ll be busy with cartography this week. I couldn’t—“

Rolling her eyes, Nami ushered them out of their chair. “Let’s not act as if you haven’t spilt ink bottles over my maps a couple of times. Off you go, better enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Fine, fine,” they chuckled, giving up and letting her push them in the direction of the warmly lit and inviting bathroom.

As soon as they entered, the navigator told them to wait by the door as she busied herself for a few moments, tipping over liquids into the massive tub while sounds of bumping resounded clearly throughout the room. Within seconds, she had the bath smelling absolutely heavenly. They ooh’ed and ahh’ed as they leaned over the tub, watching as wonderful colors swirled in the warm water. The vapor rising from the surface smelt of lavender and jasmine, perfectly combined to form that soothing aroma.

“I can already feel myself falling asleep,” they muttered under their breath, fueling Nami’s smug expression even further with how visibly excited to hop in they were.

“You go ahead and strip down, and I’ll turn around.”

“Offering me a massage too?” they lightly teased her, waiting until she had her back to them to begin slipping out of their clothes and letting them fall to the floor. A sigh of satisfaction escaped their lips as soon as they dipped their toes into the water, which soon turned into a groan of pure bliss as they submerged themself completely and shut their eyes. The water was the perfect temperature; hot enough to ease the aches that felt almost bone-deep.

“Actually, yes,” came her voice from behind them, and they leaned their head back enough to see her begin to roll up her sleeves up to her shoulders, “I’ve noticed you had trouble rotating your shoulders the past couple of days. I’m pretty good at massaging them.”

“Be my guest.” Too tired to even put up a fight, they waved a hand at her in a permissive gesture. Her eager grin back on her face, she dabbed some oil onto her hands from the bottle beside the bathtub, rubbing them together to properly spread the liquid.

Her dainty hands were stronger than they expected them to be when they pressed into their skin, somehow almost instantly managing to dig into their muscle without it being too painful. Nami kneaded their flesh carefully, fingers trailing in the direction of their muscle from origin to insertion to avoid causing any spasm.

Her carefulness only furthered the immense gratitude that washed over them at that very moment, reveling in her attention and the few ounces of relaxation they allowed themself to feel. In all honesty, being lavished with the affection of their best friend had their eyes stinging with tears. Sniffling, they tried to will them back.

Nami cleared her throat, an awkward silence settling for a few seconds before she spoke. “You know, you don’t ever have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But you’re seriously undermining my intelligence if you think that I haven’t noticed that something’s wrong.”

Opening their eyes, they grew worried at her words. “Nami—“

Her hands stilled on their shoulders as she interrupted them. “I don’t want you to feel guilty. That’s not why I’m saying this. I just,” she sighed, “I wish you’d rely on me more. Not to spill your heart out all the time, but to even simply let me know that you’re feeling down. I’m your best friend, after all.”

The silence blanketed them for a few beats, before they breathed out slowly. “Yeah. You are. I’ve just… been in a very crappy mood for a while now, and I didn’t want to bring you down with me.”

Frowning, Nami crouched down to make sure she could maintain eye contact with them, and hopefully communicate exactly how she felt. “You’re not a burden, so quit talking like you are one. I’d be one horrible friend if I only cared about being with you when you’re happy. Especially when you’ve always stood beside me.” Her lips pulled into a kind smile as she gently squeezed their forearm. “Besides, I like having self-care days like these every now and then. Honestly, we’re doing us both a favor unwinding like this.”

“You haven’t even gotten to enjoy the bath yourself,” they lamely protested, only to have her wave them off.

“Doesn’t matter. I can do that anytime. As long as you feel even the tiniest bit better, then I’m good.”

“Not charging me for all this, then?” they hopefully asked, to which she narrowed her eyes.

“Not this time, no. I’m making an exception, so you better be grateful I haven’t doubled your debts,” Nami playfully scolded as she wagged her finger at them (though part of them had reason to believe she was only half-joking).

Softly smiling, they nodded, “I am, don’t worry. Thank you for all this, Nami.”

With one last squeeze to their arm, she stood up and made her way to the door. “You rinse off all that stuff while I go kick Zoro out of the crow’s nest so we can nap there for a bit.” A thoughtful look crossed her face as she began to mumble to herself while walking out and closing the door behind her.

“Might even convince him to take a shower in the meantime…”

[mythica0]

Salty to sweet

🎂: Sanders Sides

🧁: Virgil, Logan

🍫: Roman, Remus

🍭: Prinxiety, Intrulogical

🍨 fic

TW: foul language and Remus . Just Remus.

Salty to sweet

It was just one of those days.

Both Logan and Virgil were feeling kinda grumpy. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, if Logan had his vocabulary cards correct.

Logan had been in his room working all day and got snippy at anyone who tried to talk to him .

Virgil was listening to his emo music and ignoring everything around him.

This did not sit well with the creative brothers; Roman & Remus, who were each sides respective boyfriends.

The two were currently talking about it in their shared room.

“Ugh! I’m at a loss! Virgil won’t even open his door, how am I supposed to cheer him up!” Roman said in exasperation.

“I don’t know,” started the other twin, “but I think I have an idea of where to start.”

❤️💜❤️💜💚💙💚💙❤️💜❤️💜💚💙💚💙

The plan was fairly simple, however, there was one insy winsy tiny little massive problem.

The twins had to get their boyfriends out of their respective bedrooms and into the living room first.

Roman thought that by telling Virgil he was watching The Nightmare Before Christmas and asking ‘would he like to join?’ Would do the trick, and it did.

However Virgil wanted Roman to make some food and change into his onesie first. Not too hard.

Remus was having a bit more trouble. “Ugh, sword fighting whale penises! He keeps insisting that he needs to work! I can’t get him to take a break and come down!”

Roman winced at Remus’ exclamation before recovering and saying “have you tried offering crofters?”

Silence.

“Come to think of it, I didn’t think of it!” Roman snorts at his brothers corny wording as Remus types the message and hits send, the text sends, and remains read for about 2 seconds before a (likely very eager) reply of “I’m on my way” comes through.

Remus laughs lightly at his boyfriends response before lightly tossing his phone on the couch. Roman , after doing so, texts Virgil telling him that he has the movie ready to play, popcorn in the table, and is up to dress code.

Both boys arrive downstairs at roughly the same time, Logan first, wearing his usual polo shirt, jeans and Necktie. Virgil lagging behind a bit, in his skeleton onesie.

Remus grabbed the crofters out of the fridge and set it on the table with some bread just in case.

“Oh. “ Logan stated , his way of showing surprise. “I was not informed we would be watching a movie. “

“That’s because you didn’t let me finish. I offered crofters and you immediately came on down. “ Remus scoffs, not unkindly.

“Fair point. “ Logan nods and pushes up his glasses.

“So are we getting started or what. “ a grumpy gruff town states from the other side of the room.

“Yep! Let’s settle down on the couch, hmm?”

The wordless response is that both sets of boys sit on the couch.

Sneakily, the twins enact their plan. They snake their arms around their boyfriends, holding them in a way that they couldn’t escape , without being uncomfortable or realizing what’s going on.

“Actually , Virgil. Me and Remus have a surprise for you guys before we start. “

Virgil hums and Logan says “the correct phrasing would be Remus and I”

Remus just responds by saying “hush, nerdy wolverine. “

Then, with a silent countdown, the twins start ‘attacking’ their boyfriends, scribbling at their sides and poking their tummies.

Both boys , suprised, immediately burst out laughing .

“Whahahahat theheheh fuhuhuhuhck? “ Virgil manages through his laughter . “You better hope Patton doesn’t hear you! Or you might be tickle tickle tickled even more!” Roman teases, his smile growing when Virgil breaks out in a light blush.

“Thihihis. Ihihihis nohohot aha vehehehery gohohood suPRHIHISe” he squeaks at the end when Remus squeezes his thigh.

“You are in No position to be rude, teach.”

“Ohoho shihiHIhIt.” Logan responds

“Hey look brother, we turned them from salty to sweet! “ Roman exclaimed

“Indeed we did, but I think we could use a bit more sugar!”

——————————————————————-

The boys continued for a while just like that, teasing their boyfriends and playfully scribbling against their ticklish spots, before Roman gets an idea, a very very evil idea .

Giving his brother a look that says “follow along” Roman speaks “Y’know, we added some sugar into this salty dish, but I think it needs a little extra kick.” He says, grinning evilly

“Oh, I agree, what kinda kick were you thinking?” Remus catches on quickly, matching Roman’s grin as they both continue to assault their lovers with tickles .

“Something fruity , that’s for sure “

“Like us!”

Roman sighs, “like us. However, I can’t think of what fruit to add. Do you have any ideas?”

“I was thinking…. Raspberries?”

“I couldn’t of come up with a better idea!”

“Ohohoho nohohoho . Nohohohot thahahat!” Virgil exclaimed , although he didn’t really mean it. He had to admit, if only to himself, laughing this much was starting to make him feel better.

Logan was very much in the same boat . His mood having been greatly impacted.

I hope your ready! In three, two, one, “ Remus started

“PBBbBBbBbFFt” both twins raspberried at the same time .

“AAHHHahahahahahhahaHa! “CRAHHAHap DoHOHont DoHOhoo THaHAHat!” Logan

“No can do!” That was Roman. Remus nods , they both breathe

“PBBbbBbBbbFFfFT”

More raspberries. More laughter.

After a while, the twins stop, leaving two very giggly sides curled up in their laps.

“So, we still up for a movie?” Roman says, lightly shaking the remote .

Both boys just nod weakly.

As the opening song plays, the twins both think

‘Definitely turned them from salty to sweet.’

—————————-THE END —————————

[somethingvicked]

Daemon Targaryen RP

After spending some great quality time here with her husband to be, she felt so much better about the idea of marrying him. She hoped that they would continue to have a fun relationship, not just one full of duty. She enjoyed hearing him laugh, and he had a way of making her feel at ease. He was also gifted in making her feel good, and she knew this was just a taste of it.

Darlyne laughed when he told her not to tell anyone that Septas don't know anything about the marriage bed. She had a funny image in her head of other maidens running to the brothels to find pleasure for themselves. She already felt so lucky to have Daemon show her what her body could do, what it was meant to do, and it was all just for him. She nodded as she would be happy to share this with knowledge with Rhaenrya, she wasn't sure if she felt comfortable sharing this with Alicent or not.

"No of course not. What happens here between us stays between us? Although perhaps someday it wouldn't hurt for others to hear how good you make me feel. For now, though it will be exciting to be sneaky with you. I can't believe I'm hearing myself say that." she said smiling at him.

She smiled at her Prince as he seemed surprised that she was willing to help him out now. She raised an eyebrow at him when he thought he liked her being greedy for him. She could feel excitement rise up in her again as he looked at her, and asked if she wanted him to show her how to make him feel good.

"Yes Daemon show me. I am to be your wife so I should give you pleasure too." she answered.

"Yes, you are to be my wife and so far you seem so eager in doing what I show you and teach you. I won't even have any needs for mistresses or brothels now that I got you," he told her with a smirk.

He started to unbutton his pants and lowered them along with his smallclothes, letting her see him completely for the first time. He saw her cheeks going deep pink and chuckled. "It won't bite you, sweetling. Go ahead, touch me with your hand, get a feel of my cock first."

[thatsnotmygunflash]

13. what’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow? 17. What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block) 40. If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see? 44. What mistakes do you keep making no matter how many times your beta corrects you? (asked with love, friend!) 😊 54. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process? 56. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

13. What's a common writing tip that you almost always follow?

Short sentences are more powerful than long sentences, as are shorter paragraphs. I have a hard time reading huge chunks of information being dumped in the middle of a conversation and then having to go back up and re-read the last part of the conversation because I got so wrapped up in their thoughts. I play things out like I’m watching tv and when I watch tv I’m very guilty of listening more than watching. Words have always been an assault for me, I hear too much in people’s voices and see too much in their eyes, so it’s best to pick one or the other. My writing has unintentionally been affected by that mentality.

17. What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

When I have inspiration (and the right playlist) I never let it go to waste, I’m in deep for hours at a time. When I get to the point where I’ve changed a sentence more than three times, I can usually tell I need a break. I like to walk away or work on something else for a bit and come back with fresh eyes. If that doesn't work and I’m still just staring at the screen I'll go watch TV, play video games, or read something that is similar to what I'm working on. If I’m still not feeling it I’ll take a break for a week or so and come back refreshed.

40. If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

I was just thinking about this! I have ideas for Citizen Cold’s new gear and I'm dying for someone who can actually draw to help me bring it to life! I'd also go insane for a drawing of Barry from their first video chat with the 'Team Cold' shirt and the sun bathing him in light. The polaroids as well of course! Oh, it'd be so amazing to see! But wait, look at me, not even thinking about Len at his desk twirling the phone cord! There’s so many good snapshots I can think of in my head, you don’t know how desperate I am to see them in real life.

44. What mistakes do you keep making no matter how many times your beta corrects you? (asked with love, friend!) 😊

Oh God, okay first I want you to know I’m so so so so sorry. It took a lot of courage on my part to even contact you because I know. I know. I’m a mess. You know first hand I need a refresher course in punctuation. I don't know what's wrong with me, the rules just never seem to stick in my head. Every time I think I’ve got it right I’m proven wrong. It’s like high school math all over again. On an average day (not writing) I usually read anywhere from 6 to 10 hours. I should understand better how to properly place a comma or a period. I don’t want to talk about my spelling or vocabulary, so you’re just gonna get another apology. I’m really sorry.

54. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Getting to share my work with others. 😊 It’s always in the back of my head to find a different hobby besides writing, something more fulfilling, but I think it’s really just the lack of interaction and feedback that fuels those thoughts. I’ve always loved writing. It always makes me happy to see people have commented or just read my work. I’ve posted in other fandoms and have a few fics that have done fairly well, but none of them are very active fandoms nowadays. It’s really nice to know that I’m not the only one who loves writing and reading either. I can connect to people here who share an interest I’m eager to talk about since I don’t really tell anyone about my writing in my personal life.

56. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

I like to think I'm pretty good at constructing new worlds and creating something you can really get lost in, but I’m my own worst enemy when it comes to writing. I’ll create whole new worlds with timelines that span hundreds of years and complex characters that you’d just fall in love with then when it’s time to write the story I’ll just…lose interest suddenly and start something else. Posting IWEBTFATFY was a goal I had set for myself in hopes of breaking that recent streak. I’m very happy to have written 78,000 words and not been too scared to post it in fear it wasn’t going to be good enough. I’ve become very invested in this universe and have a lot of hopes for it. With the right motivation and determination I think I could create something incredible.

[bomberqueen17]

ok computer

so i didn’t get to look at my computer for three or four days in there, really, so apologies if i missed anything

but i had a couple of people ask me things about the greater MDS timeline and the specifics of a couple of the chapters, and also someone sent me a timeline they’d put together, and I have a timeline I’ve put together I’d love to make into a thing I can post somewhere and I just don’t know what format to make it be. So. I will do something, I think it’d be helpful for me and for everybody, but I just am not sure how. I currently have stuff in a google doc but i don’t want to just share that. I think I just want to make a graphic. so I should think about that I guess.

It is Friday and I would like to post another update but actually nothing is ready. I have accidentally bled off a ton of time onto a side project that is nearly but not quite done, and needs a bunch more work to make into a thing I can share. And then I have a ton of stuff written for other bits of timeline, but nothing is quite scraped into coherence. To say I’ve been a bit scattered is to uhhh severely understate the matter.

but I have this weekend off, ostensibly, so we’ll see what progress I can make. (Ostensibly. I may have to come in to this office job; someone appointed herself to my department while I was gone and seems to have broken some of my equipment, and i feel like the only way to resolve that is to come and talk to her during the times she works, which are on the weekend.)

anyway i will have something to post soon, i’m not beating myself up or anything, i just have things i’m eager to share and i’m disappointed they’re not ready to share. how dare they not have beaten themselves into shape while i was busy elsewhere!!

here’s a snippet I guess. let’s see.

yeah, not sure where this is going but I wanted to go back and tell some of Morvran and Ciri’s early meetings, when he was in charge of the escort bringing her from White Orchard to Nilfgaard.

Captain Tiron Hesner leaned his shoulder against Morvran’s to murmur in his ear. “That princess is something.” They were between their horses, Morvran checking the girths, so there was little chance anyone would see or hear, but Morvran still looked nervously around. 

“Had you any doubt?” he murmured in return. 

“That northern fashion for trousers is almost enough to turn my head,” Tiron went on, and Morvran elbowed him. Tiron wasn’t shy about his proclivities, and Morvran almost regretted turning him down because everyone who didn’t seemed to have so much fun-- but there wasn’t much point, he didn’t seem to have the inclination himself, and he rather thought that was a prerequisite. “What!” Tiron yelped quietly. “Don’t tell me that leaves you cold too?”

“I wouldn’t say cold,” Morvran said mildly. While it was objectively true that the Crown Princess was a woman with a shapely figure, long and lean and muscular, he had never been much moved by shapely figures of any variety; what he found captivating in her was that she was a very good rider, though not particularly well-tutored. She was simply a very naturally-gifted athlete, and had been very well trained in general at controlling her balance and using her momentum. He had little doubt she was a superlative swordswoman and was likely talented at any physical activity she wanted to put her mind to. 

Whether her trousers were filled out to a certain shape or not was of little interest to him beyond the basic considerations of what type of saddle he ought to ensure she had for her use. She was riding one of his horses. He’d known better than to expect her to choose his mannerly palfrey: Cirilla had chosen Rheydin, Morvran’s actual war horse. He was a larger horse than she needed for her slight weight, but he was willing and spirited and she seemed to be finding him satisfactory. Selfishly, Morvran was glad she didn’t seem to be teaching him any terrible habits, except that she’d utterly broken him of his tendency to find the most unexceptional path and had taken to getting him to jump over every obstacle that was feasible. Didn’t do him much harm to be bolder, Morvran thought, now that he was the horse Morvran had left to use in actual battles.