#ok I luv dis-

[ch1zzie]

Brain filled...with joolie... (⚠️ BLOOD WARNING ⚠️)

Moo

Blah

Thats a whole row of julies

Hehehaha

Run roh

WHAT, WALLY AND LAMU? The swirls. Are they evil

[hiphopcherrrypop]

doodle request of hagure and jabashiri drinking slushies and hagure is infodumping about the fighting lore between their gangs to him for the 20th time (jabashiri will always listen)

also extra note: i love your bucchigiri art!!!

SOOO REAL + so cuuuteee

(extra note THANK UUU!!!)

[sapphic-woes]

On the topic of origins.

[doromoni]

Not Over the Papaya | OP81

⊹ ｡•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Ships : Oscar Piastri x Popstar! Reader , Ex!Lando Norris x Popstar! Reader

Genre : Fluff Smau

A/N : I’m back!! am i still sick? yeah a lil~ But I can finally look at my phone 🥹. Thank yall for waiting and supporting NOTP series 🧡.

Face claim : Jennie Kim

Warnings : Cursing, Grammatical Errors

Summary : Y/N and Oscar cope with their own breakups by making the Heartbreak Club.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

< Previous | Part 7 | Next >

“I have nothing to say to you”

“Ok, then let me do the talking. Y/N I’m really sorry”

“Lando, you apologizing wont make what you did go away! Can’t you just leave me alone??”

“I will, I promise… i just want to end everything correctly… please let me. Y/N please”

“i’m already happy Lando.”

“I know that Y/N and I’m happy for you! I don’t want everything to be awkward with Oscar when we do see each other.”

“For Oscar…”

Y/N. 3m

story replies

oscarpiastri am i crazy or is the coffee we make in your flat better than this??

Y/N. No lie youre so right, this coffee lowkey is not it.

oscarpiastri I thought I was tweakin. Where are you btw?? I left for the bathroom for 3 mins and ur gone??

Y/N. uhh… im looking for popcorn :DD

oscarpiastri How aren’t you getting a stomachache with the things you eat baffles me .

Y/N. Ion know myself dude 🤷🏼‍♀️ I’m amazing like that

oscarpiastri well no need to look, they have it at the plane. I asked John if the plane stocked popcorn and yes they do

Y/N. Really? You’re literally the bestttt 🥺🫶

Y/bf Y/N L/N when I found out that you’ve died from caffein overdose I wont even be surprised 😀

Y/N. I just wont die, simple as that my dearest best friend.

Y/bf just have fun and give em hell 🤭 . Oh! my chocolates dont forget!! Safe travel luv 🫶

Y/N. Oh they wouldn’t know what hit em. I will bring chaos . I wont forget your chocolates y/bf!!. And thank youu

maxverstappen1 Y/NNnnnnnnnnn I’m sorry 😩

Y/N. Sorry? and you are?

maxverstappen1 I changed my password already! Plsss do not be mad >:((

logansargeant Y/N are you going to the raceeeee???!!

Y/N. well yes I am American Boi

logansargeant why am i always the last to know?!!

Y/N. Sorry (Lmao I’m not)

logansargeant Ur so mean to me >:((

oscarpiastri

story replies

Y/N. 🧡🧡🧡

oscarpiastri food was 🔥 music was 🔥 the pretty girl held my hand also 🔥.

Y/N. Is it safe to assume you liked everything then…. 🫣

oscarpiastri YES i did! I’d wife you up if you’d let me.

Y/N. I haven’t met your family yet SIR. 🤨

oscarpiastri That wasn’t a no. If the last song in your album wasnt a proposal…. 🤭

Y/N. OK! you win. Be grateful I love you. Now stop looking at ut phone you need to focus on your debriefing! I could ser John glaring at you rn!!

charles_leclerc is that Y/N’s Unreleased album????!!!

oscarpiastri why yes father, it is 😌.

charles_leclerc and you and Y/N are not letting me listen?? HOW DARE YOU TWO 😭

oscarpiastri Sorryyy . I get first listens ~ you wait for the release of Heartbreak club like the otherss😛

charles_leclerc even Alex is freaking out!!! comeonnn Son. Just 1 song plsss.

oscarpiastri ask Y/N 🙂‍↕️ She’s the genius behind this masterpiece (that i get to listen to whenever i want 😛😛😛)

charles_leclerc I will revoke your adoption! Oscar Jack Piastri-Leclerc.

logansargeant Heartbreak Club??? Isnt that the name of you and Y/N’s club for people who got cheated on

oscarpiastri the very same HAHAHAHAHA

logansargeant so its about Lando cheating???

oscarpiastri Yes and No… and I’m not allowed to elaborate further!

logansargeant Boi without me there wouldnt even be a club with you and Y/N~ mate yall owe me 🥰😀

f1wags

liked by user1 , user2, and others

f1wags Oscar and Y/N are already in Belgium🫶 .

user1 Oop, is Y/N going to attend the race 🫣

user2 Ohhhh I really hope so! Plss plss

user3 I really miss Y/N in the paddock. Miss ma’am pls mark your territory! Ion like that other girl there 🤡 Ur tainting the McLaren brand pls exit the premises.

user2 The height difference is so 🥰🫶🧡

user3 I offer myself as their child or their pet I dont care. Pls just have me

user4 Their future child would be troy bolton i swear. To sing or to do sports 😩

user5 HAHAHAHAHAHHA I could so imagine it.

user6 BET ON IT!

user7 I SAW THEMMM 😭 they were do cute I can’t!! Y/N was so busy yapping and Oscar was just smiling at her and nodding. Boi is just happy to be there, Oscar same.

user8 I still cant believe that Osc knows the tracks inside Y/N’s album

oscarpiastri

liked by Y/N., mclaren, charles_leclerc , carlossainz55, and other

oscarpiastri Touch down and Landed 🛩️ Excited to get behind the wheel!

charles_leclerc what is with you and spa (wdym landed?? you’re literally here since Tuesday??)

alexandrasaintmleux let him have his fun, babe.

Y/N. Yeah! have your own timeline Lechuck

oscarpiastri listen to the ladies, Mate. It’ll do you good.

charles_leclerc I love my life and the people in it 😀

mclaren Locked and Ready 💪 Let’s go for Podium!!

user1 LETS GO OSC!!

user2 continue the podium streak champ!!

user3 Oscar future WDC , i’m calling it

user4 Oscar looks extra pookie todayyy 🥰

user5. Ah Y/N effect 🙂‍↕️~ I see your man girl!

user6 Y/N’s influence on Osc is really showing fr. Ma’am ur doing amazing work!

Series Taglist : @champagneproblems17 @itsjustfranzi @cheriwritesig @forza-charles @awritingtree @sltwins @gr1mes-cc @hwalllllllelujah @btsfluffsworld @tillyt04 @landotd @booksandflowrs @czennieszn @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @tellybearryyyy @wobblymug @alittlechaotics-blog @bingussthirdtoe @mirrorball-6 @demandealalune @heartsforleclerc @yoongi-holland @maneskin-slave @alenix @forensicheart @bloodyymaryyy @stereading @hahahjej @youre-on-your-ownkid : closed

Maintaglist : @myescapefromthislife @peterholland04 @charlottef1 @fangirl125reader @mel164 @gnarlycore @chloelovesln4 @vickykazuya @merchelsea @ln4author @qzmef @nxk1309 @styl1shl1v @lottalove4evelyn @gr3yhues : closed for now

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Ask me, my prince. What a storm is to a dragon.❞

[ Aemond can only breathe through your lungs, through your adoration and love. But when betrayal is nigh, what does it truly beget? ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 6,935 ] | Dark!Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!Reader, minor, sort of (not really) Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers.

THIS IS A DARK FIC. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

contains— angsty, smut - DD:DNE: kidnapping, coercion, manipulation, possessive & obsessive behaviour, power imbalance, violence (not to reader) (a little bit to reader... i wrote this too close to book canon!aemond), murder, death, massacre, war - canon typical targcest, canon character deaths, canon divergence - dark!aemy - pregnancy, child, allusions to infidelity, mentions of bastard - i took liberties with canon (as i usually do) - #ripellyn you (sorta) will be missed shshs - the only specific reader descript. i did is the baratheon dark hair ok? ok - nsfw: male masturbation, dubcon/noncon, creampie - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— there was this villain playlist on yt that was slowed and sexy, and my brain just. clicked. here it is if you wanna check. the real reason this is long is cos i can't help but add backstory ok? ok. lol. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

Storms have always been your favourite view in any window.

It is cliche to say, a proud daughter of the Stormlands, of course she enjoys the dark skies! But you do. There is nothing short of comforting in the rolling, fat clouds darkened in shadows. Occasionally, if the weather moved to your whim, lightning danced between plumes before you hear the boom and crack of it striking.

"It is a privilege to enjoy weathers such as these," your father once said, a hand on your darkened hair, a bluer tint to it, but Baratheon through and through. "It is our might that holds us at paramount, and thus, our privilege beckons warm fires and strong, stone fortresses to watch it all in comfort. To find enjoyment in the dark skies."

"Ours is the Fury," you replied immediately. Your father smiled.

"That, precisely. The paramount of our might and power is one we have taken and given with fury. Never forget."

"Even better than the Targaryens?" Your father's displeasure crumpled his face, and you were at an old enough age to understand his displeasure was not something you enjoy. But you had been learning all day, and the topic that day with your septa had been House Targaryen. You had learned the King's name, that he had a Queen that died, and that his heir is a girl.

His hold on your shoulders was heavy, but you do not flinch. Eyes bore into your own as if he was speaking the words into existence.

"We are the blood of the Kings too, my daughter. The White Hart proves our mark in the world, long before the dragonlords ever whispered in these lands. And what are dragons against the dance of storms?"

You had been little then, no more than six. The smallest of your sisters; Floris, though short in stature, looked elongated. A beauty. A fawn in the making. And your father is not the cleverest of men, but his words shelved itself in the corners of your brain. It eased and assuaged your fears like a quick spell.

Your spine straightens and your chin tilts upward. You are made of fury and storms, the blood of kings of old and solid, impenetrable fortresses.

You fury is your own, and 'neathe your fingers, under your very being, is a storm.

A good reminder, as when you had exchanged childhood for girlhood, a missive had been sent by the Queen Alicent Hightower, requesting for a daughter from Lord Baratheon's Four Storms, as companion for the Princess Helaena.

"Cassandra would do well."

"She hungers, husband. I am afraid of what might happen if we send her to the courts at her age. I do not yearn for a scandal."

"She would not shame her family so, do you reckon?"

"She is the eldest. You know how she is."

A sigh. "If she had a cock, she would be a good heir for my seat."

"Borros!"

"Apologies. Very well, mayhaps a good husband with no grit to him would do her well. She will lead the Stormlands by the hold of his— er, well, yes. Maris? She is clever."

"Far too clever. Even her tongue irks you, no. Definitely not. Her brain works too fast for her mouth. She will say the wrong thing and end us in war."

"You exaggerate, surely."

"I bore them, Borros, but they are your daughters. They live and breathe with your name and your House's banner under their own. What do you think? Bad enough they take so much of your heritage with them, and their looks, but they also plucked and chosen parts of you I'd rather not have for lady daughters."

Your father grumbles incoherently, you laugh under your breath.

"... Floris is too young. So..." The last one. You. You press your ear harder against the wood of your father's study, heart in your throat.

"She will be best," she says softly, insistently. She knows in her heart of hearts that though her husband is a hard, proud man, he has a softened heart for you. "Though she is clever, she minds herself well. Polite. Kind. She will do well with the Princess and her, er, eccentricities."

"Bloody weirdoes, the lot of them." A sigh. Another chastise from your mother, but she too, sounds exhausted. It has almost been a moon since the missive has been sent. Another one is bound to arrive, more order than request. It is all a political game. Princess Rhaenyra had no Baratheon ward under her court when she still resided in Kings Landing, for you and your sisters had been too young and your father had no sister. It is by chance that gives the Green Queen advantage to take a ward under your father's banner now, with a daughter she seeks to be Queen Consort.

"Send her then," your father announces. Though defeat clouds his voice, the Lord in him speaks each vowel clearly. "She will do best to represent the House out of them all. We might have a betrothal in our hands soon enough."

"She is pretty enough for a prince."

An angry snort. "She is more than pretty enough for a prince. Far better than the lot of them."

Softly, "That is because you like her best."

"Why would I not?" your father replies gruffly, making you smile. "A storm grinds and brews inside of her, wife. Even Maestre Loes, the old gnat that he is, sees my bloodline thick in her. Even if the King asks for her hand at this very moment, I would refuse. I would throw him off Storm's End with a smile on my face and a boot on his back."

You fight off a snort as your mother grumbles about treason and Maris.

"She is far better than the best of them." Another sigh. Heavier. "Why are we sending her?"

Your mother sighs. "Because as she is the best of them, she is the best of us. She will survive far better in that cesspit they call a keep than any of our daughters. Her storm can tame dragons."

You would argue that that too is treasonous given the context, but your father merely laughs. His laughter is a crackle and a boom.

"I would upheave our coffers to witness that."

Though you find her odd, you enjoy spending your time with the Princess Helaena. Mostly, she is quiet, in her own little world. Though it took time to get used to her many-legged friends, you soon realised the best times you spend with her are when shipments and gifts of pinned butterflies and books that have reached as far as Yi-Ti, to get to Kings Landing about bugs, and undeniable excitement unfurls in the Princess' face. More like a girl, a sweet one.

It makes her already cherub features appear more child-like, and she grasps your hand voluntarily as she points at each and every critter she recognises. It is so very rare to see true happiness in the princess' visage, and in her enjoyment, you see your sisters.

That is how you meet him, the Prince Aemond.

Princess Helaena had gone for tea with the Queen. It had not been planned. Though she often spent tea with family, either the Queen or the Lord Hand, or either of the Princes. Something had occurred, so now that Princess was having tea with her Queen Mother and her husband. If you had to guess, it was likely that Prince Aegon was being punished in some way.

Though there is no love lost between siblings, it makes you sniff at how blatant the prince's obscene indulgent for vices are. Princess Helaena didn't mind, rather, she didn't care unless they needed to spend time together, a clockwork patch of routine, and that was when you usually came in— you later realised, your primary job — soothing her nerves and distracting her thoughts before she had to enter her marriage chambers.

There is a resigned defeat in her, a woman's duty bearing down, looming like the Mother, and it makes you want to soothe her harder. Make her laugh.

With the change of plans, it was up to you to check for the new shipments of the Princess' things. A dictated note in your hand of the princess' handwriting, you were going through her boxes when a hand, gloved, rests on your shoulder.

"Do not move," a cool voice says behind you. Far too close for propriety.

You freeze. "Pardon?"

"I do not want to scare you, my lady, but there is a critter atop your head." The cool, calm voice waves off a steady rhythm to your heart, calming it further from the earlier panic of someone laying a hand on you (although this, is still not better. You are a lady and unmarried after all). "I will rid of it immedi—"

"No."

"... Pardon?"

"Where is it? Just atop my head?"

"... Yes?"

"It maybe poisonous, pease do not touch it." Before the owner of the hand and the calm voice could react, you pat your head until you touch a hairy, small thing with many legs. Relief spreads. "There you are."

"There you are?" The voice says, almost mocking, incredulously.

You huff, taking the spider in both of your hands, before you tilt your chin behind you, only seeing the gloved hand. "Please take your hand away from me."

The hand retreats. You turn.

Valyrian features are most uncommon than your own, and the jolt of recognising the pale, white hair is a strike to your being, a gasp falling from your lips. It is the one-eyed mask that tells you immediately who it is, but you string everything else you know of the prince.

Prince Aemond had been travelling to Oldtown, a visit requested by the Queen in the guise of seeing family, his brother. But there had been whispers of something more, as the chatter of the maids who cleaned up in the King's quarters talked about how ill he got day by day.

You had seen flashes of him before this, but fate had kept you two apart. You were not there when he visited the princess— on another errand or two, and he starkly ever looked at the ladies surrounding his sister with a vehement light as their voices, high pitched and dreary, tire him so on a good day, increasingly irritating on a bad one, and anyway, the silence that falls in a stone room just from his arrival is enough to irk him.

But here is he now, with one eyebrow rose, a good eye of icy blue iris, and the very visage of a warrior in black leathers, a braided hair pulled to one side, and pursed lips in both amusement and annoyance.

He hums. The sound kicks back your manners, blushing lightly at having gaped at him for far longer than pleasantry dictates, and you pull yourself into a bow.

"My apologies, my prince, I didn't know it was you. I was scared you were going to hurt the Princess' new friend."

"They are bugs," he says steadily. "Not her friends."

"Like so, but just because they have many a legs do not mean we cannot befriend them." A small smile plays on your lips before you place back the spider in the cage he got out of. It is something you had once said to the princess to make her laugh. You feel his stare burn at the side of your face. "Is there a matter, my prince?"

"You are the Lady Baratheon, are you not?"

"I am." A small, ironic smirk tugs at your lips. "Is it the hair?"

He makes a soft sound that exhales like a laugh out of closed lips. He's still quite close, you can feel his warmth and idly wonder if all Targaryens truly do have the blood of the dragons in them for you can feel the contours of him, burning at the edges of his being. Like a comforting little furnace.

"Hm. And the princess has taken quite the liking to you. You are all she talks about during sup."

You can't help it, you're smiling. So many rumours concerning the young prince, not all of them good, but there is a certain novelty in basking under the attention of a prince of the realm. A Valyrian beauty that brought an ethereal glow to him. As so intently stares, catching pieces and niches as if you are the most fascinating creature.

The attention makes you feel like a blushing lady.

"My apologies then, my prince."

He cocks his head, the braid dipping and you catch the movement in your peripheral. "Whatever for my lady?"

You turn to him, unable to curb the cheek to your smile. "For interrupting better conversations with the topic of my name plaguing your sups so."

His mouth twists into a smirk. In Aemond's mind, it is not oft that ladies, especially Helaena's ladies, would care to... flirt with him. Because this is you flirting, is it not? The coy gaze, the curl at the edge of your lips? Aemond has seen these faces in ladies and maids alike, but directed at others. At Aegon.

Directed at Aemond... bereave to keep their conversations to themselves, and though it is not always a fault of theirs for his stoicism is his most valued armour, one would resign oneself of an arranged marriage that will take long moons before his lady wife would see the truest him, that he would not be able to experience such... coy conversations with the opposite sex.

Yet here you are, a light dust of red in your cheeks, a quirk in your mouth, and the playful joust in your eyes, daring him into a swords' dance.

It is thrilling.

"Plaguing is too harsh of a word to say so about a lady of your stature, Lady Baratheon." He steps closer, aware of propriety standards of how close two unwedded people should be, but he feels intoxicated of the whiff of life exhuming from your visage. A light citrus, oranges? Lemons? Tart and sweet, with a powdery finish. It is so very ladylike.

Addicting.

The perfect smell for a lady wife, a musing thought.

"Is that so?"

"Intriguing, I would say, would be the better word."

You laugh, low and sweet. It sends a pleasant warm to his centre. "I'm afraid my memory is failing for I do not remember any wily adventure or conversation the princess and I had for a prince of the realm to say I intrigue him so."

"It is less... about wily adventures or interesting conversations that pique my interest, but the lady herself." His eye, though lone, the other remaining hidden behind an eyepatch with hints of scarred, twisted skin underneath, bore against yours as if he wished to gather all your strings and see what each would give him. What you would show him.

"I'm afraid to disappoint you, my prince, but I still fail to see how I can ever so pique your interest." You meet his gaze, smirking. "I am just me."

Before he can answer, step forward— whatever, he is staring at the curve of your lips so, at the enchanting shimmer of your eyes, and Aemond Targaryen felt breathless — your named is called, and the spell is broken. The prince steps back, taking more space between you that is more appropriate.

His hand flexes.

But that is not the last you see of the prince, nor the last time you are able to hold a conversation with him. It seems that since then, you find yourselves orbiting each other in the fringes before one steps forward and engages. There seems to be a band that tightens either of you so obsessed with seeing the other in the periphery, the topic whatever may came, even as inane as the weather.

It is a dance of swords, kissing blades of sharp quips and interesting parry. You are interesting. Beguiling. Devouring. Aemond searches for you in most places now, unable to stop himself from asking his dearest sister about you— even his mother and grandsire have taken notice, eyebrows rose between shared looks.

"House Baratheon is of a Great House," his mother hesitantly brought up, too focused on her soup for it to just be idle chatter above sup.

"It is." His forced passivity is not as apathetic as he can make it. For any mention of you and your origins thrums his heart in a dance.

"And the Lady Baratheon has many admirers, a kind and dutiful lady, and Helaena likes her so."

He turned to his mother then, humming. At the barest hint of a smile in her son's face, Alicent beamed.

But others from court also soon took notice, and when Aemond realises the wagging tongues had come to note your name— unkind whispers besmirching your person, he disappears from you altogether.

The differences become stark to him; realising what a foolish endeavour it is to want you. Though he is a prince, he is mutilated, a monster that will ruin you. You are too good for him, a warmth he had forgone in the face of misery, apathy, and hatred. The urge to conquer your every thought and sound, from your fingertips to the top of your hair... it is a gasping thought, one he shamefully sins at the blackest hours, tugging at his cock desperately to the thought of what you had looked like that day. The sound of your laughter, the pull of your lips when you smiled, the gasp you let out when you touched water that had been too cold— his mind bends and moves, and images of you, images that he will have to pray for the in morrow but cannot stop—

Moves him to completion, a strangle grunt of your name from his lips.

And yet, every night since, it happens again and again.

The more he pulled away from you, the more he wanted you. It is a debase urge, one more fit for his drunken cur of a brother than he, more creature than man.

But he cannot stop, so the torturous cycle continues.

Until you've had enough.

You know that during hours of inky night, the prince prefers the sanctum of the library. Not always, and lately, not often, but if there are a few things you learned in the hunting trips your father brought you that your mother never approved of, is that lying in wait, patient, deals a hand much better.

And on the fourth day of your waiting, your hair in a braid, a book on your lap, and a small candlelit close by as to not alert any spooked princes— the door opens at the Hour of Eel, the familiar and sorely missed footfalls of a quiet but sure-footed prince enters.

You admire him for a moment, hidden as you are, your stare drinks in the ever smooth of his twilight-spun hair, those pursed lips and straight lines. He's lithe but you know, having been offered his arm on every walk, he is made of hard muscle. Aemond always walks so smoothly, like a panther, or a gazelle, with the barest hint of austre he can never hide.

It's the prince in him, you giggle to yourself.

A sweet pang in your chest is the reminder of how much you missed his presence. And that ends tonight.

With his back turned, perusing a shelf, you shuffle and make yourself known with a soft, almost admonishing voice.

"Good eve, my prince."

He stiffens, hand poised against a spine of a tome. He barely turns, only his head to the floor, in the general direction of you. "My lady. I did not expect you to be here."

Frustrated, you sigh loudly. "Have I offended you so horribly? Dishonoured you in some way?"

"What?"

"Why can't you even look at me, Aemond?"

A sharp intake of breath. When he speaks again,his voice is changed. "You forget yourself, my lady."

There is an ache to your being, pursuing your lips. "You had given me permission with your given name, my prince, or have you forgotten?" Anger overcomes propriety. Fuck propriety. You charge toward him, heavy, angered steps until you're close enough. "Can't you at least look at me, look at me as you push me away as if I amnothing—"

He turns abruptly, one eye flashing as he grasps your elbows in a grip. His eyes zero in on your lips as a gasp falls, eyes widen— if you could see better, you'd notice the darkened gaze drinking you in. Your widened eyes, your open lips— and Sevens, only a robe hides your nightgown, the smooth expanse of your skin is more bare to him than ever before.

His beautiful, beloved stag.

"You have never been nothing to me, nēdenka riña brave girl," he hisses. "Konir sagon se drīve That is the reason."

"Prince A-Aemond?" you say. He is against the shadows of the moonlight, only his hands holding your own is illuminated.

A wrangled exhale falls from his lips. You follow the sound, worried.

"Are you? Injured? Are you okay?"

"I have not been okay for the moment I met you," he rasps, hands bruising in his hold.

"Well. Gods. I'm sorry. If it's such a offense—"

"It is an offence!" he growls, pulling you abruptly that you yelp, bathed in shadows and darkness together, your eyes adjust as you scramble to have thoughts apart from just being this close to him. Hearing a voice you had never heard of him before, untethered from his princely visage, from manners and proper, and it makes you burn.

The thoughts of wanting him close, of taking more of that space until you are chest to chest are blushing thoughts.

But there is honour still, for he holds you at least an arm's away.

"I have wanted you the moment I have laid eyes on you," he whispers, voice rough, exhausted. "And each day I spend with you, each hour— my honour stands in shambles, in ruins at my feet for I want you as a man wants a woman. Honourably and... and carnally."

You swallow, and he follows the movement like a predator tracking his prey. The blush in your cheeks, the way your lips press together as if you are just as starved of him as he to you— oh, you want him too, don't you?

One hand moves from your elbow to slowly reach up. Your arms, your collarbones, your neck. A thumb brushing your cheek and your eyes flutter.

Aemond wants to devour you.

"You plague me so, and I crave you."

"Then have me," you sigh.

His eye closes. "I cannot sully—"

You grasp his neck, bringing your mouth close to his. "You cannot sully what is freely given. If you crave me, I want you."

Honour unbound, a snap is tightened by the hunger that uncoils from a dragon that wants you. Aemond had grabbed the back of your head, tangled his fingers, and made a mess of your mouth.

Gasps and teeth, touching skin from where you can feel it— touching skin from where you unbuckle, tear through hem and push against cloth. When he slams you again the shelf, a moan so lewd falls from your lips that he groans, pulling your nightgown until he feels the heat from your very womanhood, and so, so wet, that when he flicks his thumb, curious and entranced, moving it around experimentally, you are a mess of sound and feeling, gasping his name, A-aemond, oh gods, please, and he is whispering, forgive me, f-forgive me, like love letters, like penitent, like a kiss from a traitor so wrong but so tasteful against your skin as he pulls himself from his confinements, holds you steady, and breaches your tight cunt.

Just before a scream tears through your throat, he devours your sound, holding you steady, until the pain bleeds pleasure and you are holding him like an anchor in dangerous seas. You cannot think or feel anyone else but him; what you are and who you are do not stand a chance as Aemond Targaryen swallows your senses.

It is harsh and fast, it is sweet and devouring, and more, more, more, you don't know what you're begging him, you feel like a devout and he feels like a god, grunting against your skin, biting through anything his teeth grazes. When he shifts you at an angle, finding a spot that feels like a lightning striking through your entire being, you are screaming, twitching, reaching a high so blinding it feels like white death.

"Is that it? That sweet spot?" he purrs, a breathless laugh, shocked and delighted drinking in your trembling and pleasure. "Your cunt is tight against my own, holding me like you never want to let go." You cry out when his cock hits that spot again. Your combined wetness makes an obscene squelch, just as pretty as the sound you utter. He smirks. "Can you hear that? Not even a whore can make a sound so sweet, hm?"

His teeth grazes your lips, sending shivers through your body as he licks the roof your mouth. "I want more of that sound. As your prince, you would grant me this, yes?"

But he isn't waiting for an answer, planting his feet and holding you steady, angling you back to that spot until he is snapping his hips, fucking into you as you can do nothing but beg and cry and tremble in the arms of a dragon taking what is his.

And you are.

You are his.

Maybe you had known it since then.

You definitely do when his seed floods your womb.

You want to say that that night was a fluke, a mistake that must be regretted. But once your gaze meets another, the fire burns, flickering and dancing, and it repeats. In quick fucks in dangerous spots, to slow, sweet love making in his room.

You are his, in mind, body and soul.

"Death is nothing but a friend," he murmurs against your neck, holding you close. Sweat cooling between your naked bodies. "It cannot stop me from finding you."

"I hope you say that to my father well," you tease.

" Marrying you is but the next step, my love. You are already mine as I am yours." He plays with your hair, brushing it past and kissing a bruise he made on your breast. "In face of every god and more, they will understand that we are but one soul."

You can plan the future in rose-coloured gaze for as much as you can, but the truth of marrying into a family with war brewing inside of it, held together by a dying king's hope and corpse fingertips— it is another matter entirely.

It all comes to a sharp clarity when Viserys I dies... and they keep his rotting corpse a secret.

And then they crown a whoremongering drunk.

"Aemond," you break into the silence, your entire being too cold for comfort. You had just come back from a privy council, a Green Council where the Queen had ordered you and your betrothed to reach Storm's End before the night fully breaks.

As if she knew where your loyalties are.

As if there is no question you will support the usurpation.

You turn to Aemond, busy with packing his things for they have bared the maids and people the of Keep. Because they are making Aegon as king and they know a revolt is underneath the floorboards.

"Aemond!"

"What? What has happened?" He looks confused, irritated. "We must make haste, my love, if we are to beat the storms at—"

"Princess Rhaenyra is Queen," you whisper but it could have been a scream. Saying it aloud gives you confidence, strengthening your resolved. You turn to him. "She is the King's heir, no one else. Aemond, this is an usurpation, unlawful in the eyes of—"

It takes little strides for him to reach you, for him to hold your neck in a tightened grip of warning.

"She," he spits, slow and careful as if you are a simpleton in need of teaching, "is a whore who is attempting to place her bastards on the Iron Throne. Rhaenys Targaryen held no chance of it, just as she. My brother is the firstborn son. He is king." His fingers dig into your skin. "You will do well as my wife to not speak of such blasphemy once more, do you understand?"

Your shock and fear melt from your visage, making way for compliance. You nod once. "Yes, my prince."

"Husband," he corrects, holding you much gentler but the weight of his hand is still there on your neck. A reminder. "Have you forgotten? We only come to Storm's End to officiate our union and your House's loyalty to the King. Once done, we will marry, yes?"

You nod, hands fisting. "Yes."

When he kisses you, harsh and needy, imprinting his will unto you— you close your eyes and plan how you make known to your Queen of their plots.

But Storm's End doesn't go as planned, does it?

Lucerys Velaryon, the Queen's son who had come as nothing more but an envoy for the rightful heir, and Aemond—what you thought to be your Aemond but a monstrous man who needed his revenge, who needed to draw blood for a grudge so deep, for an existence he finds so abysmal — had chased after him and came back to you bloodied, tearing up your dress, rutting in you in harsh, rough thrusts, as you listen to the storms from your window and think,

The Queen will never find his body. Her poor, sweet boy. Half in the belly of a beast, the rest spread and sunken into the water.

"I will not allow any marriage until the realm is at peace," your Lord Father rumbled with finality. He is not a smart man, truly, but he is a father. His gaze meets yours, full of meaning, of promises, before looking back at the seething prince. "You will have my bent knee for your king and for your war, but my daughter's hand shall be her own until the realm is at ease."

Your mother steps forward, her courtly smile on her face. "We want for her to have a grand wedding, my prince. She is the first of our charges to wed, and to a prince of the realm no less! By sure, at the time of war, we must err on the side of caution, as our coffers will no doubt focus on our troops. A future princess of the realm must be mindful, of course."

She bows in deference, your sisters following suit. Maris is the first to look up, defiance burning in her eyes.

You remember a conversation with him, feeling like a lifetime ago.

"Ask me, my prince," you teased. "What a storm is to a dragon. A creature is a creature. Even you must acquiesce to the way of nature for she has bowed to no one since her existence."

Aemond may be blood of the dragons, but he is surrounded by storms on all sides. The fiercest.

And your father will never marry you to a Kinslayer.

Yet you stay beside him, your duty now clearer than ever. Every new information you can grasp is sent back to the Queen and her council. In a courtier of the Greens and Traitors, you are the sole Black Stag. You use Aemond's adoration for you, his possessive obsession of what he thinks is love, as a protection and guise.

Any time he beds you, you sneak in moon tea. His bedding of you is just as much his hold on you and his defiance against your father's refusal. Once caught, you remind him he would not enjoy a bastard child. Especially at a time of war. Not after what they had done to his nephews.

"Do you want for me to suffer as your sister does?" The tears in your face then had not been a folly, for your heart broke for sweet Helaena and her sons. For Jaehaera. The world bleeds and bleeds, and all who die that reaches your ears are nothing more but innocents.

Aemond does not bed you after that, but he keeps you in his chambers, pulls you close as if he is trying to mould your skins as one. Times like this, your heart stutters. Your love to him and your morality as a person is at a test of swords.

You are in love with him,

He is a monster,

He has lost his nephews,

He has killed his own.

And it makes you wonder if you are a monster too, lying beside him as his bedmate, caring for him, wanting him still as his heart beats as your own, so connected to the umbilical of fate and chance while war rages, bodies falling all around you both, most from his own hand and word.

The war rages, and Harrenhal comes to view.

With it, a slaughter and a witch.

The worst of the massacre is the steely, lulling silence.

No one tells you that most of what an execution is that silence. That it amplifies each scream, each shout, each thick drop of a head as it falls on cobblestone. The sound is wet and a mouthful. Then it is nothing, consumed by that silence again.

You are locked in a room with a window that doesn't face the horror of what Aemond is doing. As if this is enough to shield you from what he is, what he truly is doing to win this war.

The worst part, committing genocide of an entire house is nothing more but a horrific grudge.

Strong blood spills, enough to make a lake.

By the time that night bleeds and a maid had entered with dinner to light a fire— your body is still so cold. No food has touched your stomach since the day before yet you retch.

Does loving a monster meant that you are just as monstrous?

Mayhaps it is still worth it, you muse in your silent madness, tears tracking your cheeks as the heaviness of your being stays. For who can say a monster can love you so monstrously? Who else can?

When Aemond comes back to you, freshly cleaned and a reminiscent of the prince that you loved, and he is making excuses of wanting you as you are, pawing at your clothes, you let him. You make love in the silence suffering from the massacre he had just finished. You hold him and kiss him in a desperation as you know this will be your ending.

That your Aemond is gone, or worse. He had never truly existed.

When you are both spent, satiated in a sweet glow, your head pleasantly quiet, he speaks about a plan.

A woman, a Strong witch, that promises him an assurance of winning with her sights and blasphemous magic. He had spared her among others, and that itself makes you look at him, truly look at him.

In exchange of what— for such things do not concede so easily as gratitude to mercy of one life, yes? Because desire devours itself. A snake eating itself.

"A child," he whispers against your battered head and bruised heart. "From my blood."

"A bastard," you murmur as he stiffens. "From a bastard Strong. Surely the irony is not lost on you? You have started this war by killing your bastard nephew, and you plan on ending it by fathering—"

"Do not question me," he says softly, grip tightening against your arms. Your eyes close, heavy with the weight of being a spy. Of loving him. "I will fuck a babe in her how many times it takes, and when the war is won, I will kill her and it. For your womb is the only place my lineage will live. I am doing this for the good of the realm. For us."

When he thinks you are asleep and leaves— you take your things and make haste to leave. Not once has your people left you in the arms of the kinslayer. Always one maid, always three guards from your father's army, loyal to only you.

You bundle up quick, and rush for the passage, you are blocked by a woman. Pale skin, dark hair, and eyes greener than wildfire. You know her before she speaks. You hold yourself to fight, and the witch of Harrenhal laughs.

"You have changed the tide of destiny, my lady." Her head tilts as if she can see past you and through you. "Once your choice has affirmed, your thread chosen, I cannot stand in the side of the One-Eyed Kinslayer without the Stranger coming for me. So instead, I will grant you one gift. One that will require no sacrifice."

"I do not want it."

"Ah, but it is a gift." She nods at your torso. "Your belly will soon take size, in it, his heir. You will not escape him as soon as he knows." Her head twists to the window. A raven flies. A storm grumbles. The sound comes first before the lightning strikes. A false storm. "Time is flowing, changing and twisting. He may have betrayed his kin, but he is still a prince. He will know soon."

Her green eyes glint as if she is seeing now and tomorrow. Now and a moon. Moon from a year. "You must run now. Hide and hide well."

You hold your stomach, bile rising in your throat. "Where? Where am I safe?"

A faint smile rises to her lips. "Your heir looks more like him than mine did. You will not escape him. But go north. As far North as you can. The fjords can hide him for a while. He will grow well there."

She moves away, letting you pass.

You never look back.

Dark locks. Baratheon hair.

A tuff of silver lock atop his head.

And the rest... his nose, his eyes. With your fingers, you pull his lids. Bloom in mullish blue with the faintest tint of iridescent violet. You know from your histories, that faint tint will overpower the blue.

Oh, he is utterly beautiful. Utterly yours. And utterly his father's son.

Rough breaths strangle out of your raw-bitten lips, brushing blood away from your babe's face, his head, his wet, silvery hair. Few they maybe, unmistakably Valyrian features they still are.

"Oh, he is beautiful," your mother murmurs, tears stain her cheeks. "Quiet as you were, as a babe. Looks just as much as you."

She is weighing his Valyrian features too. Your blood tried, but it seemed as if Aemond's grudge grasped your womb and affected your shared blood.

"We cannot stay," you say, still staring at him, admiring him. Your heart locking in place, steeling itself as you prepare to do your utmost to protect him. "We will have to travel posthaste."

Your mother swallows her grief. She had almost lost you. She will lose you again, now along with her only grandchild. "Where?"

"North. As far as North as we can."

Your mother nods. Ever a lady. "I will send a missive. The Lord Stark is loyal to the Queen and knows by how much you have sacrificed for this realm. He will protect you on his honour or he is no Stark."

You will need to hide. You will need to hide well.

You pull him close to your chest, hot tears freshly spilling from your eyes.

The witch had not lied, for your boy grew up amongst ice and warmth. He grows up with love from you, from the Lord Stark and his people, and love from his father in the way that he resembles him.

The slope of his nose, the sweet purse of his lips.

When your boy had gotten angry once, nothing but a quick burst, it shocks fear and tears from your eyes for you had seen the prince.Nothing more than a flash.

You pull him close and wound him to your heart as he cried, apologising for scaring you.

The North had granted you reprieve from the war as it came and went. Your betrayal to the Greens had mounted to the Black Queen's win. The betrayal of House Baratheon as House Stark and their bannermen joined the fray had squandered any rebellious thought on which sovereign will preside.

The last you heard of what became the Prince Regent was his surrender at the Battle Above God's Eye.

When you had cried that night, you did not know if it was from relief. Or fear.

But a black stag on white snow is easy to spot.

It takes years, yes, but the Stranger is but an old friend.

For when the day of your wedding to the Lord Stark arrives, a familiar screech of a dragon that your marrow will never forget— tolls the bell of death.

And when you looked up, snow swirling, holding onto your son that looked up in awe at the man who looked so much like him—

Aemond is smiling.

Sweet came the word— dracarys! — as Vhagar split her mouth opened and obeyed her rider.

What have I told you?

You are mine as I am yours.

In face of every god and more, they will understand that you and I are but one soul.

[trblsvt]

Hi, idk If ur taking request but i luv ur writing so i wanted to request a svt reaction to having a nightmare where they lose their s/o and they wake up and can't find their s/o If that's ok? I just really luv ur writing so yeh bye-bye 💗💗

hi! thank you for sending this request in!

pairing | ot13 x fem!reader genre | slight angst, fluff warnings | nightmares!, mentions of arguments, most of this is in relation to nightmares min | lowercase intended. i don't think i have enough unique scenarios for all thirteen of them :( so i grouped them up i hope that's alright. these are also a bit short.

the ones who instantly get up to search for you seungcheol, joshua, jun, mingyu

he tossed and turned and finally he woke up. usually he couldn't remember his dreams, but this one was different. there was something with this dream. it felt too scary, too real for him to shake off.

one second you were there, and the next some sort of darkness was wrapping you up and taking you away from him. then he was all alone. and something about this dream, no, nightmare, overrode every single rational thought in his mind.

when he woke up he reached over to your side of the bed. he was met with cold empty sheets. he shot up and looked at where his hand rested. you weren't there.

his mind was going into overdrive. was his nightmare becoming a reality? or was it even a nightmare at all? he scrambled out of bed and quickly made his way through the slightly ajar door.

your small apartment was dark and quiet, and you were nowhere to be seen. now his rational brain was out the window. "___!" he called out. nothing. he walked toward the kitchen and tried again. "___!"

"babe?" he heard it. he wasn't going crazy. he heard your voice. his head whipped around and he saw the door to your little balcony was open. he made his way over and nudged the door open.

you looked up from your mug of what looked like tea. "is everything okay?" you asked curiously. you looked at your boyfriend's tousled hair, and slightly panicked face. "oh, baby, did you have a nightmare?" you frowned at your distressed boyfriend. he averted his eyes but he nodded. you opened your arms for him to come and rest for a bit.

"you- i thought- i thought you- wow i sound pathetic" he stuttered. you just shushed him and ran your fingers through his soft hair. "no matter, i'm here," you hummed as he relaxed into your grasp. this was all he needed to be lulled back to sleep in your arms.

the ones who cry seokmin, seungkwan, chan

it was all too scary. his worst fear was coming true right in front of his eyes. he did something horribly wrong and you were gone.

he tossed and he turned and he finally shot up. he felt the sweat on his brow and on his back. he looked around the dark room and reached an arm out to the side of your bed.

you weren't there. where were you? was his dream real?

before he could calm himself down he felt the tears gather in his eyes. now he was convinced he had really ruined it. his worst fear was coming true.

he couldn't contain the choked gasps of air when he cried. where could've you gone? he knew he upset you in his dream, but not enough to make you leave without even saying goodbye.

with his head bowed, and his hands clutching at his face and body, he didn't notice that the door to your shared bedroom opened or the rushed footsteps to the side of the bed.

"babe? what's wrong?" you rushed over to his side.

"you're here!" he sobbed, relief flooding his body. he couldn't bring himself to look at you yet.

"yes! i'm here, why wouldn't i be here?" you smiled at him trying to wipe away his tears. "i- i did something bad, and you got angry and you- you were gone," he hiccupped.

"oh, baby," you soothed, pulling him to your body. his sniffles died down. he gripped your hands and looked around the dark room.

he listened closely to your heartbeat and he calmed down. "wow, i must look pathetic," he grumbled, burying himself closer to you. you just hummed. "no you don't. it's okay to be scared sometimes," you comforted quietly.

he sighed. "it's only okay if i know you'll be there."

the ones who overthink it jeonghan, soonyoung, wonwoo

he never took himself to be a superstitious person. a black cat walks by, oh well. a broken mirror, c'est la vie. so why was this argument bothering him so much? it was really stupid, and you didn't seem too upset after the two of you resolved the issue. you even began the night in his arms. but deep down, he knew he never should've said those words to you.

it started like any other dream he had, but soon the events began to blend together. then, he was hit with a wave of deja vu.

he had been here before. you standing in front of the couch and him only standing a few paces away. you were saying something, you looked upset.

he had definitely been here before.

as soon as he opened his mouth the room dimmed and before he could say anything you evaporated. the room was left cold and stale and he didn't know what to do.

he shot up like a bullet. the room was cold and stale. did he even wake up? more importantly, where were you?

he squinted in the dark, but he couldn't find any signs of you pulling something on him. he had said some regrettable things during that argument. that stupid argument. in retrospect, he could barely even remember what the argument was about, but he knew you were probably right. why couldn't just keep his mouth shut when he knew it might upset you? why didn't he just sit down and listen to you? why didn't he tell you he was sorry? why didn't he tell you 'i love you' before bed? why didn't-

the door clicked open. he didn't really notice. too deep in thought to care.

"hello? babe?" you called quietly, noticing how out of it he was. you placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "___? you're still here?" he asked, looking slightly dazed.

"yeah, why wouldn't i be here? i just had to get something to drink and my mom called about something," you explained.

"oh, well, that's a relief. come here," he muttered pulling you back to bed. you obliged easily. you could never stay mad at him for long.

"don't get too in your head."

"i won't."

"okay, good. goodnight."

"goodnight, ___." he paused. "i love you."

"i love you too," you responded, cuddling closer to him.

the ones who wait patiently for you to come back jihoon, minghao, vernon

well, that was weird.

given that he didn't usually dream, it was even stranger that he had a nightmare. he'll hand it to his imagination, it was really scary. he guessed that's why he was up.

when he woke up, he noticed that your side of the bed was cold. you must've been gone for a while. he pushed himself up against the headboard and looked at the ceiling. you had to come back to bed at some point.

of course, he was curious about where you might have gone. he knew you were on-call this weekend so maybe you had to run in to work without explanation. maybe you were just in the bathroom down the hall, or getting a drink. maybe you had a nightmare and you off somewhere letting the initial fear wear off.

maybe a few minutes had passed since he woke up, but he heard slight padding of footsteps outside the door.

he hoped it was you and not some intruder. maybe he was still in his dream.

when the door creaked open, you stood there with a glass of water in hand. "hey," you greeted. "what are you doing up?"

"nothing, just woke up," he said, there was no need for you to know about his silly little bad dream. you scuffed over to your side of the bed and placed the water on the nightstand.

when you slid under the covers he hummed quietly. "you know, i was wondering where you went," he said as he pulled you close to him.

"really?" you sighed.

"yeah."

"you weren't worried that i might've run away," you teased.

"no, because i know you. you wouldn't do that to me, not without explanation," he sighed and nuzzled into your neck. sleep came easily to him after that.

min | not proofread at the moment. i would love to hear some feedback! thanks for reading :)

[yan-lorkai]

*vibrating in excitement for platonic yanderes*

Ok, so I haven't watched black butler in years, imma re-watch it soon tho, so if none of this makes sense it's cause my memories shit and you can just ignore this lol

Anyway, here's my idea/request, Obv platonic yandere Ciel with a young reaper reader (14-16)? Like maybe they meet through Grell who mentors the lil reaper. Or maybe like a young ghost reader, he meets during an investigation or smth.

Your free to pick which one obv, anyway. I hope you are having a wonderful day luv, make sure to eat and stay hydrated!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Lemon, I made you wait a little but I finally finished this request hehe, despite having changed it a little and distorted some historical facts. Funfact: Ouija boards were created in 1891, but for the sake of this fic let's all ignore that Ciel was born in 1875; btw yesterday was his birthday. Congratulations Ciel <33. Also, many people have a hc that his real name has something to do with stars, hence the nickname present in the fic. Having said all that, I hope you enjoy Lemon, I loved writing this! Happy reading everyone!!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Platonic yandere content, spoiler about Ciel's brother in case nobody knows about it, ouija board and some typos probably!

Ciel likes to watch the sky. He likes to watch how the clouds race to overtake each other, he likes to watch the sun dancing alone in its place, twirling its colorful skirt of orange, yellow and pink during the hours that pass until finally the moon takes its place.

Quiet moments like this now, where he just sits in his armchair, his work all done and Sebastian far away, is when he can think about the things he's lost. But also the ones he won. If Sebastian had any knowledge about such thoughts, Ciel would certainly be subjected to his jokes and mockery.

The demon, while bound by the contract, could still make fun of his little master and he knew exactly how to embarrass the young lord. But Sebastian didn't need to know how the boy thinks about his twin brother, his parents, the employees and his childhood friend, Y/n; If they were alive now they would be maybe thirteen or fourteen, just like him and his brother. It was a fateful day, indeed.

The murder, the cult, Ciel hates remembering it, but he doesn't know how to let it all go. He's a child and there's no one he can ask for help - even if there was, perhaps his pride wouldn't allow it. He didn't ask for help when he was kidnapped, he didn't ask for help when he went through countless assassination attempts, nor did he ask for help with difficult tasks that the queen assigned him. He was the Phantomhive heir, the family's leader, he couldn't just simply ask for help.

The count narrows his blue eyes at the brooding darkness that has settled in his office, counting how many grains of sand fall into the hourglass and how long he has left in peace before Sebastian shows up to annoy him.

Maybe fifteen minutes.

With enough time for the boy to put his small plan into action, he pulled a wooden board from one of the drawers and placed it on the table. Ciel, by and large, was not superstitious, but recent events had left him puzzled. Moreover, he had a demon as his butler, a boy with super strength as his gardener, a sniper as his maid, and a soldier as his cook. In any case, he had even encountered death gods.

Therefore, if he suspected that the presence lingering over his shoulders while he worked or the entity hiding his items and making them appear in different places was something to be investigated, then he would investigate until his doubts were cleared. The giggles and whispers were becoming unsettling. Of course, he heard voices, but they were the voices of occultists, screams and cries from when they died at the hands of Sebastian.

But this particular voice was incredibly irritating and almost familiar.

Ciel scanned the wooden surface, wondering if he was a fool for buying it. The boy was almost certain that Sebastian knew about the board, but he decided not to comment; the butler had been rather distant since they returned from London that morning. Ciel didn't mind, quickly reading the rules and holding the pointer in his hands, trying to see something through it.

There was nothing… yet.

Ciel laid the pointer on the board and sighed, placing his fingers on it, ready to start. He hadn't said anything yet, but an aura already seemed to completely envelop his office. Or maybe he was anxious; he couldn't tell.

"Is there anyone there?" Ciel murmured, his firm voice echoing in the silent room.

For several moments, nothing happened. He really didn't expect anything to happen, judging this whole thing as something foolish that only became popular because of the horror stories that circulated in cities. He stared at the board intently, each letter in cursive, every mystical symbol adorning it, waiting for a response that would satisfy him. Impatiently, he repeated the question once more.

"Is there anyone there?" He looked at the pointer and then around. "If there is, give me a sign."

This time, the pointer began to move slowly across the board as if the entity on the other side was drowsy, gliding from one letter to another with a calmness that Ciel himself didn't possess. Ciel watched with intensity, his expression impassive. But inside, a strange feeling took hold of him.

It was real, after all. As real as shinigamis or Sebastian. He stifled another sigh in his throat.

"Who is there?" He asked, the words leaving his lips with determination.

Who behind the veil was tormenting him, holding on to him tightly so as not to be pulled into the forgetfulness of eternal sleep. He put more force on the pointer as if everything depended on the answer he would receive.

The letters came together to form words, and Ciel remained focused, but a hint of skepticism was present in his gaze when the words spelled out a name. Your first and last name.

"Y/N?" He wondered aloud.

Ciel may have lost a lot, but he also gained a lot. He gained another family, gained new friends allies, gained a new chance.

And yet… He hadn't gained you back. Or had he?

For a second, he let the pointer rest on the board, feeling a heavy sensation settle in his chest as he thought about the days when you used to stay by his side when he was bedridden with asthma, telling him your silly stories and jokes, all while holding his hand and looking tenderly at him. You were his best friend. And he missed you a lot.

And now you were here. You were here.

He placed his finger on the pointer again, still feeling doubtful if it was really you or some other spirit. Confidently, he asked something that only you knew. "What was the nickname that only you called me, and why?"

The nickname you used for him when it was just the two of you. Not for his brother, not for Ciel. If it was really you there, you would notice the small differences, as you did when you were alive.

The pointer moved, taking with each movement a beat of the young earl's heart. One by one, the letters formed a nickname forgotten by time and bitter memories of the only Phantomhive still wandering through this tedious world.

"Pleiades, that's what I used to call you." There was a pause, and Ciel felt his entire body trembling with the confirmation that yes, it was you on the other side. He straightened up in his chair, trying to show that he was calm — little did he know that you could perceive how surprised he was.

And you would tease him about it later.

"Just like your hair, they are blue, an optical phenomenon caused by the dispersion of light in the Earth's atmosphere." You explained, nodding as if he could see you. Ciel rolled his eyes but almost unconsciously smiled.

"I see you remain a know-it-all." He teased.

And you stuck your tongue out at him, moving your arms to make the chair he was sitting in slide backward. Ciel's cheeks immediately turned pink as a little yelp escaped his lips. He hadn't expected you to have more tricks up your sleeve, but soon he regained his composure and cleared his throat, watching you move the pointer.

"One of us has to be clever," You chuckled. "Obviously, I'm the smart friend."

Ciel let out a long sigh. "Your knowledge is all random, though."

You shrugged. What importance did any kind of knowledge have now that you were dead? You said nothing for a few minutes, running your fingers over the wood of the board and the supposedly mystical symbols. Being dead was boring, different for everyone, and you weren't even sure how your soul managed to escape the shinigamis for so long.

But you had one certainty; you were stuck in this world for some reason still. In many stories, there would be an unfulfilled desire or a want, and you had several, but you had made peace with the fact that you could no longer fulfill them. So what was still keeping you there?

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

Ciel nodded, gesturing with his hand for you to continue.

"Can you free me? Can you invite me out?"

Ciel had already broken some rules, especially the one that said he couldn't play alone and that the player should have a form of spiritual protection, whatever they had faith in — a crucifix, a talisman, anything. Ciel, however, had a mark on his eye, so you assumed that nullified this rule. Did that thing serve as a protective mark, though?

The boy remained silent for some time, seemingly weighing the pros and cons of taking such action. To bind a spirit to himself, to the world of the living, when he knew he should let you rest in peace, when he knew such agreements were dangerous.

But he was still the selfish earl who liked to monopolize your time; he was still that same sickly boy who needed a friend. And no one else could be his friend but you. Only you understood him, after all.

He nodded.

It was foolishness, but not even Sebastian could have stopped him. He pressed the pointer harder, desperate for it to work, but of course, it would work if you were already in front of him, the dead proof that there could be life in death.

"I invite you, Y/n, to leave this board."

A warm feeling flooded your chest, as if your skin were kissed by the sun again after so long. You savored it for a moment, smiling, feeling strangely more alive than before, and withdrew your hand from the pointer.

"Can you see me?" You asked, your voice hoarse from not speaking for months.

But Ciel didn't seem to understand, not yet at least. So you touched his cheek as you did when congratulating him on a chess victory, and he felt it, his eyes widening as he assimilated the situation. You figured that now that you touched him, he could hear you, so you asked the question again.

And slowly, he nodded. You could only imagine what he thought of your bloodstained shirt and disheveled appearance, so different from the one you once proudly preserved. Times change, and so do you, and you were like this now, a lost ghost that not even death seemed to want.

You smiled, squeezing both of his cheeks and watching him shudder. It was good to see him, good to be back, even if nothing would be the same. Nothing could ever be the same again, but being able to touch him again after so long, you didn't hesitate to hug him.

You were together again.

[holly-opal]

Is it OK if you can do Mr. puzzles x reader Again but Make it even more Romance CAUSE I REALLY LUV IT.😭

Mr. Puzzles pulled at his chains. He grunted and tugged more at it, trying to break it off the wall. Or if not that, then at least damage it enough so he can break it with a rock or something. Mr. Puzzles kicked at the wall, instantly regrets it, then wails in pain. Oh it was no use. Those meme guardians and their weirdo friends were never going to let him leave. He sat down and pulled his knees up to his face, feeling absolutely miserable. Then he heard a door opening and footsteps approaching. It was you! Holding a plate of cookies, a notebook, and dolls in your hands. He glared at you, and backed away a bit. You reassure him that you don't mean any harm and that you just want to help him. He calmed down a bit, but he still seemed upset. You sat down in front of him and set the things down, you had a cute smile on your face, Mr. Puzzles had to look away so that you wouldn't see him blushing at you.

You explained that you had a talk with the gang and they agreed that you can try rehabilitation with Mr. Puzzles. If he is good, you will give him a cookie. If he's bad, well then he'll just have to eat the rats then. Depresso won't like that. Mr. Puzzles laughed maniacally, very sarcastically. He grabbed your arm and pulled you onto his lap, you yelped in shock as you grasped onto him for support. He put a hand on your waist and lifted you chin up to make you look at him, he was grinning evilly. He had his brow raised as he smiled down on you. "And what motivates you to do this, mm? For what reason do you want to help me?" Mr. Puzzles said. You smiled with confidence, you say that you believe in people getting second chances, if they try hard enough, they can be better than what they were before. Smg3 changed, Waluigi changed, Bob (somewhat) changed. So maybe Mr. Puzzles can too. Mr. Puzzles frowned, and his hand moved away from your chin and down to your waist. He looked away from you. He looked... Almost uncertain?

"Darling, I appreciate the offer, but I can't do it. Even if I do change, nobody will accept me. I'll always be alone." You put your hands on his (cheeks?) And make him look you in the eyes. You say that you believe in him, that he can do it, that he will be accepted, even if not everyone will like him. Nobody is perfect, that's why we have to try to be good. He smiled and gave you a tight hug, you hug him back. He seemed convinced now. Wait, feel something wet on your back. You also hear sobbing. Is he crying? "Thank you... Thank you...." He said softly. You patted him on the back and grabbed a cookie from the plate you brought. You pulled away from him and held the cookie over him, he grinned. "I can eat by myself, sweetheart." You know he can. But you felt like taking care of him right now. He blushed a bit from that and he allowed you to feed him the cookie. Of course he wasn't going to reject the food, that dumbass Italian was starving him enough. You put the cookie in his mouth, he slowly ate the cookie until it was gone. He seemed flustered and shy, you laughed at how adorable he looked. You leaned in and kiss him on the forehead, his screen turned bright red aaaaand he malfunctioned. Bro died from a kiss fr fr.

[auspicioustidings]

Firewatch Part 2

Summary: You wake up in the Fire tower confused and going through sedative after effects and shock.

Words: 2.1k

CW: None

Confusion was the first thing. You were confused. It was such an effort to get your eyes to open. Maybe you had caught a cold? You groaned at the idea and rolled over in bed to try and grab at another pillow, finding your forehead hitting against something solid. Why were your sheets so scratchy? Oh no, you could smell smoke, you knew you shouldn't have done that rewiring by yourself. 

"There, you're ok. Sorry, I must smell bad right? Would've changed into sweats but you seemed so content right here that I didn't want to move."

That certainly got your attention. You rolled back half way, letting your eyes open to look up at the man whose lap your head was in. The yellow glow from the lights above him made him look like an angel with that bright smile of his. 

Kyle felt his heart nearly stop when you brought fingers to his cheek, looking up at him all adorable and soft. He knew it was the drowsiness from the sedative wearing off that had you so slow and touchy, but who was he to stop you? That was an impossible thing to ask of him when he watched the way your brows furrowed cutely in confusion. You were so much prettier up close. 

"Who...?"

"My name's Kyle, everyone calls me Gaz though."

"Hmm" you sighed, your mind trying to just focus on one thing to try and ground. "Kyle... s'a pretty name." You could hear the slur in your voice and it made you frown. That didn't sound like you at all. Weren't you supposed to be in bed?

"Think any name would be pretty if you said it luv," Kyle said, his smile making you want to smile too. 

You lay like that for a while, just looking at him while your brain tried to take account of your body. He was playing with your hair you realised after a while, gentle and relaxing. He was in a compression shirt and you could see a firefighter's jacket thrown over the back of the sofa you were on. Oh, that was why it had felt scratchy beneath you and smelled of smoke, he must still be wearing the bottom half of the suit. Wait, why were you on a cute firefighter's lap again? You shot up, feeling a rush of dizziness from the suddenness of the movement that was only somewhat soothed by the hand that had been playing with your hair going to rub circles on your back.

"Dosia!"

"Dosia?"

"My cat! What... what happened?"

Kyle knew Dosia was your cat. They had figured that out as she had been rubbing up against Price and Johnny had tried very hard to get her to do the same to him without much success. Johnny said it had been close enough to your cottage that they heard you call on her. That was months ago. He didn't want to say that they had been stalking your cat through the woods whenever she went wandering so that they could make the little thing like them, but that had sort of been what it was. Not that Price had needed to, Dosia loved him and Simon almost as immediately as she had hated him and Johnny. At least she didn't hiss at them anymore, just tolerated them. Good thing since she was their cat now as well. 

"Oh right that's who she belonged to! We picked up a little cat in the forest nearby after the fire, she's fine. Do you remember the fire?"

"Oh God, I nearly died. I... did you save me?"

You turned on the sofa to look at him. If only you knew the sight you made, on your knees, hands planted on the sofa in the gap between them, looking up at Kyle with those big confused doe eyes. Price had said he should lie to you when he needed to, and it felt very much like he needed to lie to you. It wasn't like he hadn't been part of the team that saved you, even if it wasn't him behind that mask that had been cradling your head so gently after hauling you out of the flames. 

"I will always save you."

He had turned his body slightly as well to be in line with you and the absolute reverent sincerity of the statement caused your breath to hitch. Dosia was safe, you were alive, there had been a fire. Everything was hazy and you felt weak and dizzy and through all that was this beautiful man who had saved you looking at you like you hung the stars. It was intense and you could feel the heat of the fire on your skin and feel the smoke in your nostrils and see your whole life going up in flames as the memories came leaking back. 

You didn't want them, you wanted anything else but remembering exactly what had happened. The only thing that you needed to know was that you had been laying there looking up at this man in a mask, the man who had carried you out of there. And he was telling you that he'd save you again if it came to it. 

Kyle watched it happen, watched as you were experiencing everything again. Couldn't do it, couldn't just let you spiral. Maybe it would be the healthy thing, let you process it all. But the healthy thing would inevitably calm you down, get you asking the right questions and wanting to get out of here and start building your life back again. The healthy thing would make you leave because he didn't know what lie they were going to tell to get you to stay. And he couldn't have that. 

It was easy to have all that sudden building dread and terror convert to heat when Kyle lunged forward and pressed a desperate kiss to your lips. You threw yourself into it, instantly all teeth and tongues and oh you were on your back on the sofa now and his big, safe body was over yours, hand dancing up your side and making your nerves spark. You couldn't keep still, hands grabbing at his face then his hair then his neck, anything to keep him from leaving you. 

His knee was settled between your legs to keep him steady and you accidentally bit his tongue when he pressed closer to give you friction. He pulled back with a sharp cry and you just panted up at him in shock and utter embarrassment. Practically ravishing a man you had only met hadn't made you go red but biting his tongue like an idiot because you had gotten a little over excited had heat flooding your cheeks.

"Dinnae stop on our account."

Oh God, there were 3 men walking into the room. The room that you were splayed out on the sofa in, hair mussed, lips swollen and skin flushed. They weren't dressed like fire fighters but they were all large and fit looking. 

The one who had spoken looked pissed off. He was shorter than the others but broad, soft mohawk haircut and sharp blue eyes. He was ruggedly handsome in jeans, boots and an old rugby hoodie. You liked his accent you thought, would like it better if he didn't seem angry with you. They must be the other fire fighters who were off duty now. They would have been there at the cottage. They would have risked their lives to stop the fire, barely made it home and gotten cleaned up and then come to relieve Kyle only to find you with your tongue down his throat. 

You pushed frantically at the chest above you, giving yourself just enough room to be able to twist your limbs around his and roll off of the sofa to the floor, scrambling to stand and straighten yourself out. By the time you had made it to your feet one of the other men was already there, ready to catch you when your legs went to jelly and collapsed out beneath you. 

"Woah there little bird, you need to go slow for a bit, don't have your legs back yet. Not that Garrick would have helped," he said, only sliding a short, stern glance at Kyle before returning his full attention to you. 

He was older, handsome in a way that was cosy. When his eyes were on you, you could see his smile in them. It went a little ways to calming you, but you couldn't help but glance at the Scottish man and the other man standing moodily by him in a balaclava. You could not believe the situation you had found yourself in, having to cling as gingerly as you could to someone to stay on your feet after being caught making out with one of his colleague like a horny teen. 

"I- sorry, I'm ok now I think" you said, mortified and off kilter. 

He didn't fully let go of you, keeping his hands gently grazing your elbows as you caught your balance and took a moment to get some solidness about you. There was a wild thought in your head that he smelled nice, like pine and suede, and suddenly you felt disgusting. You were filthy, covered in sweat and ash and it was ridiculous that Kyle had even wanted to kiss you in this state. You wanted to be clean, you wanted to be clean and bundled up in blankets with Dosia and a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

Johnny wasn't mad at you, never at you. He wasn't even properly mad at Gaz, just jealous. He had always been a bit of a jealous bastard, hell he had been green when Dosia had instantly taken to Simon over him. Price he could understand, anyone would like that man, but Simon? Simon who didn't even like the cat? Infuriating. So when he came in after having to play nice with the police, after Price had made him shower and change before basically sprinting back to you, and saw golden boy Kyle Garrick on top of you? Absolutely committing the deadly sin of envy with gumption. 

It wasn't until Simon had elbowed him hard in the ribs and he had went to growl at him that he actually paid attention. Simon nodded his head to you and Johnny actually looked, saw the state you were in. You were shaking, trying to touch Price as little as you could without falling over. God he wanted to kiss you until you forgot your own name. Thought about it too, was ready to march over and scoop you up until Simon elbowed him again before leaning down to speak in hushed tones to him. 

"She wants to get clean and changed. Offer to take her back already."

Johnny side-eyed him, but he trusted Simon. Owed him his life actually, he had got him through a hell of a bad situation once with nothing but radio comms. So instead of going over all confident romantic hero like he wanted  he instead put on a winning smile and approached like you were a scared animal.

"Hi bonnie, sorry if I scared ye. Name's Johnny. That's John, but we all call him Price tae keep it from getting confusing. This one is Simon." That's it, nice and soft and gentle so you would relax and want to come home with them. "Ye've been through a right shitemare of a day, so for now let's get ye a hot shower, some food and a reunion with yer kitty cat eh?"

You blinked at him, looking at Price and Simon and seeing them both waiting for you to respond. You couldn't look at Kyle, shyness now creeping in after the rush of adrenaline had worn off. It was like Johnny had completely read your mind because right now that sounded absolutely like the only thing that would make you yourself again. You nodded and Price scooped you up despite your little yelp of protest, chuckling warmly about how you didn't have shoes on so you couldn't very well walk outside. 

Kyle waited until you were well out of earshot before swiping at Johnny, the Scot anticipating the move and dodging out of the way with a mean laugh. 

"Shit timing you git."

"Naw, think ma timing was fucking astounding actually. Good of ye to teach her what a shite kiss feels like so I'm even more impressive in comparison."

Simon rolled his eyes and left them to play fight, falling into step quietly with Price. If Johnny thought he would be the next one kissing you, he was about to be disappointed.

[skullyragdoll]

Thoughts on episode 13 cuz i forgot to post earlier :P

This is so late lol, its a collection of my thoughts and ramblings.

AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! So much happened in this episode!!!!!

Levi is a murder and doesn't care for other people.

Ok, so I didn't see this coming even though there were a lot of hints. I just always thought he was bad at picking up on social cues and dealing with intense people like Ace, which I guess is still true just in a stronger way. The fact that his whole gentle and mild mannered act was fake is a little sad cuz I liked his fake persona, but I think him faking being nice is a cool twist. Although this does change the way I like characterized his previous actions in my head, I think that the new drama and angst it adds is really intresting!!!!! :D

2. Acevi getting torn to shreds ToT.

Every acevi shipper is like crying cuz of this rn, and I am too, even though I knew it was probably never gonna be canon. But I don't think its completely dead cuz Ace kinda implies one sided acevi might have existed during chapter 1.

3. Acevi Angst!!!! One sided Acevi!!! ToT

Ok so this made mee screeam!!!! The angst!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We finally get Ace angst!!!!!!!!!!!! This is what I've been waiting for since chapter 1!!!!!!!!! Acevi angst!! It hurts so much to see that deep down ace did really care about Levi ToT. Ace's sprite looks sooooo good!!!!!!! (Also this is so gay and i luv it).

4. Ace seems to mention his friend from the Q&A.

Ok so it looks like Ace mentions his friend from the Q&A that I forgot the name of lol. But here he says it would be "an insult to his memory" which to me, implies that his friend is dead, or atleast not his friend anymore. I can't wait for the angst!!!!!!

5. Hu and Veronika's secrets

Most people predicted the secrets correctly, it is sad :(. But its good that it seems that Hu has grown and seems to be in a healthier place. But I am also a little scared cuz Hu might be the killer and she is getting a lot of screentime and moments were she girlbosses.

6. Teruko's secret...

I believe that this is not Teruko's real secret as it seems like it's obviously about Xander. I think that David used this as a trap or something to try and get more information out of Teruko, which is why I think he made that evil face. I'm not sure how David knew that Min's clue was Xander's, maybe he told David in private in chapter 1? But Teruko's belief that this is her secret is interesting...

So, even though I don't think this is Teruko's secret, the fact that she thought it was means that she feels like the death of her family was her fault, likely because of her luck. But the most interesting part of this for me is the fact that the secret mentions the death of Teruko/Xander's parents and siblings. This kind of implies that Teruko might have been lying about her brother being alive, or she believes that he died after he got adopted. And yes, this could be a coincidence but the specific phrasing of "parents and siblings" seems like it was meant to imply this since it could have been phrased as family instead. But obviously this could also be a coincidence, especially since it also says siblings, and Teruko claims she only has one so Idk, its up to u whether u think its a coincidence or not.

7. WHY R THEY DOING THIS TO MY HEART!!!!!!!!!  😭😭😭

Arei's scene with David was so sad and so wholesome!!!! It literally made me so sad, I got so scared when she said that she was a bad person but then what she said about them being imperfect together cuz perfect people don't exist is soooo wholesome. This is extra cute cuz her whole arc was about being scared to be vulnerable around people but she was willing to be honest and kind with David even after she knew he was a liar. Also the next thought...

8. WHAT THE HECK EDEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I literally screamed when I saw this, I was so shocked, draw dropped. And I didn't even notice the fork thing, I thought it was a wrench until I went to tumblr and saw everyone talking about the fork and xander connections!!!!!!! THis is crazy!! Eden what happened!?!

In more seriousness, since I believe Teruko's secret is about her being the reason for the killing game and who appears like Xander says all this stuff in episode 1, I wonder what happened. Did Teruko accidentally cause the killing game and Eden tried protecting Teruko from Xander, or were Teruko and Eden like evil/manipulative. I have no idea, I also don't know who was the one telling Xander to kill Teruko. (The phrasing of "end the killing game" could imply that they were in a previous killing game, but I think that's probably me reading too much into it since he's probably just trying to end it before it starts.)

Anyways I'm so interested in what Eden did since she is one of the kindest characters, and that was one of the best twists in Drdt.

9. Why is Whit so upbeat and why does he know so much about hanging?!?!

Whit is always upbeat during trials, he even made a joke about Min's execution earlier in chapter 2. I understand that its probably cuz he's comic relief and its probably a coping mechanism for all the death but it is still kinda suspicious. He also knows a lot about breaking necks through hanging like Veronika, so that's either sad or suspicious. Anyways I don't think he is the killer but I know some people think he could be the mastermind and yeah is kind of suspicious. But based on what he said in episode 7 in the movie room about Teruko grieving its probably just a coping mechanism.

10. Nico!?!?

Ok, so I don't think that Nico is actually the killer, especially since there would probably one of those selection screen thingies. But I know that a lot of people suspect that Hu assisted with Nico's murder attempt because Nico used a wire while Hu's special weapon was a wire. (I'm obviously not the first to say this I saw people talk about a bunch of months ago). This kinda makes me think that Hu could be the killer since she could have helped Nico plan the murder and she could have reused the methods for Arei's murder. Hu was also the most reluctant to give up her secret, so if she wanted to keep her secret safe she could have committed the murder. Hu does have an alibi but it is with Nico in private. (Also now after the time reveal it may not have to do with the secrets since it was the morning after). Also I don't think Hu was the one who actually tried to kill Ace because Nico admits to it in part 1 of chapter 2, and that would also kinda takeaway from Nico's agency and possible character arc and stuff. Anyways I kinda hope it isn't Hu cuz she ate David up last episode and I don't want her to die.

That's it, hope u enjoyed my ramblings lol :P

[cupinho]

More iceboobie >:)

Also hiii how are youuu you're awesome and one of my fvaorite artists I luvs your arts so muches!!! They're very colorful and fun to look at!!! Keep up the good work !!!!

I almost sent that unanonymously, oops lol

-Trans dude

ok so *Explodes and dies*

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

My entry fo #Ghostchallenge, for @glitterypirateduck

Prompt 9. Alternate Universe

I want to dedicate this to my sweet anon that sends me fantastic asks all the time, actually this was born from one of them, when they asked me if my OC and Simon would have fallen in love in a civvilian setting.

Disclaimer: I use 3rd person but I tried to not describe her appearance further than being curvy. The render at the end is my own self service because after all, it's my OC

Tuesdays and Fridays were Simon’s favourite days at his butcher’s.

And the very reason why those were his favourite days just opened the door, with her usual radiant smile on her face that made his day, no matter how shitty it had been, all the better.

‘‘Good evening’’ Like a clock, every Tuesday and Friday after 6pm, when the hustle of the day had died down. Most likely when she got off work too.

‘‘Good evening, luv. I was about to close’’ Simon turned around to face the door, wiping his hands after taking his gloves off.

‘‘You say that every single time I come’’ She rolled her eyes with a small huff, still smiling. That time she only wanted a couple steaks and chicken breast, which was quite quick and easy to prepare as they chatted about the weather and the news.

One of the reasons his shop was still open and popular in the neighbourhood was that he closed a couple hours later than others. Why wouldn’t he? He had no one waiting at home. But thanks to that, people that worked late hours could still shop before going home.

‘‘Is that the nice girl from the museum? Remember you have a bag for her!’’ From the back room, Mrs Riley’s voice could be heard, and Simon wanted the ground to open and swallow him whole.

But the way she blushed made it all better.

‘‘A bag for me? But I didn’t order anything’’

‘‘No, I… kept bones from this week. For your dogs’’ Christ, he sounded lame. Was he sweating? He hoped not. ‘‘Are you still volunteering at the animal shelter?’’

‘‘Oh!’’ The way her whole face lit up with her smile had him weak in the knees. Pretty little thing, all soft curves and sweet eyes that made him feel like wanting to drown in them. ‘‘You’re so kind, you shouldn’t have…’’

‘‘It’s nothing, beautiful’’ Simon saw with satisfaction how she blushed again. The first time he had called her a pet name without thinking, couple months ago, she had gone red like a damn strawberry, and it had been so cute that he couldn’t help but test new ones every time she came into the shop, until he settled for the ones that seemed to have more reaction.

‘‘Is it very heavy?’’ She looked concerned for a second, but he just laughed, shaking his head.

‘‘It is, but I didn’t pretend you to carry it all the way to your house, luv. I’ll bring it over as a delivery, if that’s ok’’

‘‘Ah… yes, it is ok, but…’’ Fucking hell, the way she chewed her lower lip. Thank God the counter was high enough to hide his lower half.

‘‘What is it, beautiful?’’

‘‘I… moved last month’’ She looked down, brushing a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. ‘‘So I guess I should give you my new address?’’

‘‘That’d be useful’’ Simon nodded, opening the book where he wrote down his client’s addresses for delivery. After finding her surname, he wrote down the new address as she dictated it, still flustered. ‘‘All set then. When do you wish to schedule the delivery?’’

‘‘Oh, I… have no preference’’ She shrugged, with a small smile that tore at his heart. ‘‘If I’m not at work or at the shelter I’m always home’’

‘‘I’d prefer to be able to schedule it if you don’t mind, just in case…’’ Simon looked down at her over the counter, his mobile phone in hand. ‘‘Would it be best to call beforehand?’’

She nodded, like in a daze, and took her own phone out so they could exchange numbers.

‘‘Let’s hope the boyfriend won’t get angry when I call’’ Simon chuckled, saving her phone number as Her. She looked up from her own screen, her eyes wide.

‘‘There’s… no boyfriend’’

‘‘No?’’ He couldn’t believe it. Leaning over the counter, he cocked his head to one side. ‘‘Husband?’’

‘‘No’’ She was blushing again, but didn’t seem offended. He tried his luck once again.

‘‘Girlfriend or wife?’’

‘‘No’’ Now she laughed. With a quiet, shy giggle that she covered with one hand, and made his own smile widen.

‘‘Pretty sweet thing like you single, something is very wrong in this world’’

Oh, the way she blushed. He wondered if she’d look like that, every single morning while waking up in tangled sheets, bright eyes and messy hair, covered in sweat and kisses.

Trying to shake his unspeakable fantasies off, he placed her order on the counter, neatly wrapped and in a paper bag.

‘‘I’ll schedule the delivery for tomorrow evening after I close, is that ok?’’

‘‘Yes, of course, but…’’ She seemed to hesitate, chewing her lip again. And brushing her hair back again. He had noticed in the latest weeks that it was something she did often when flustered or nervous. ‘‘Tomorrow is Saturday… don’t you have… plans for the evening? After work?’’

‘‘Nah, just watching the game with my brother at home, most likely’’ Simon shrugged, oblivious to the way her shoulders fell a bit. ‘‘You know how it is. Beers at home and yelling at the goalie’’

‘‘Sure… well, I should get going before it gets darker’’ She smiled again, and waved at Simon’s mum when she came into view from the back room. ‘‘Bye, Mrs. Riley. Bye, Simon, thank you’’

‘‘Bye, sweetheart’’ Mrs. Riley smiled and waved, before turning to her oldest son the second the door closed. ‘‘I sure didn’t raise you to be this daft’’

‘‘What?’’ Simon looked at his mum, flabbergasted. What did he do now? ‘‘What did I do?’’

‘‘That new address of hers, is from the other side of town, you absolute idiot’’ The woman sighed, a bit dramatically, slapping her son’s arm. ‘‘She moved almost an hour away and still comes to buy meat from you. How oblivious can you be?’ Oh, and she asks you what are you doing Saturday night and you tell her you’re watching a match?? Oh, I’m going to disown you’’

Simon blinked, horrified. Fucking hell. Oh, Jesus Christ.

Mrs. Riley watched in amusement as her son bolted out of the door, shaking her head before starting to clean the counters.

[sarahrogersevans]

Oooh fluff where andy barber takes care of his new baby girl with his new wife, reader. jacob died here

Second Chance At Happiness- Andy Barber wife!xreader

Summary: Andy takes care of his new baby daughter with his new wife and still misses his son Jacob but gives his daughter and wife so much love and gets a second chance of happiness

Warnings: mild very mild spoilers of Defending Jacob series! Though barely anything mentioned, Fluff, angsty, flashbacks of memories, happy Andy, soft Andy, let me know if I miss anything

~Andy’s POV~

I couldn’t believe how lucky I got with Y/N and our daughter Lilly, after everything I went through in the past I wasn’t sure if I’d fall in love again let alone have another child but I honestly couldn’t be happier. Our daughter Lilly is now two years old and so beautiful just like her mom Y/N. Y/N saw me walk in after I got home from work and she brought Lilly over and said “Hi Andy welcome home! look honey, daddy’s home why don’t you go say hi to daddy while I go get dinner out of the oven.” “Hey Y/N my love and oh good hi pretty girl.” She handed me Lilly and I took her in my arms carefully and said “hi darling how are you doing today hmm? Were you a good girl for mommy today?” I kissed her cheek and we went to sit down and I handed her one of her toys while we waited for dinner to be ready.

Later after we all ate dinner together I read a bedtime story to Lilly and when she fell asleep I softly said “the end.. goodnight sweet girl I love you very much sweet dreams.” I pulled the blanket a bit more on her and turned off the light and went to bed and cuddled with Y/N for a bit.

Y/N laid her head on my chest and I put my arm around her and rubbed her back gently. Y/N said “I’m getting a little jealous of Lilly I think you might love her more than me.” She teased and winked at me and I chuckled and said “no way Y/N I love you both equally and I adore you so much babe you make me so happy but I do love our daughter a lot I can’t believe this is all real sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve this ..” I thought back to everything that happened with my ex wife and my son Jacob and I sighed sadly and Y/N knew everything that happened and she comforted me and said “hey shhh you deserve to be happy Andy I love you and Lilly does too ok? It’s gonna be alright Andy, we’re here and we’re not going anywhere I promise.” She smiled and kissed me softly and I put my hand on the back of her head and leaned in to kiss her more and I leaned my forehead against Y/N’s softly and I whispered “I love you and Lilly both so much I’m so thankful for you both I don’t know what I’d do without you honey.” Y/N and I held each other all night and no matter what happens I knew I’d do anything for my family.

During the night I had a nightmare and memories of the trial, the accident and the arrest and seeing my dad a few years ago came flooding back so I went to sit in Lilly’s room to check on her and I watched her sleep for a bit and just seeing that she was safe and asleep in her bed made me smile so much and I heard Y/N come in quietly and she rubbed my shoulders and kissed my head and said “nightmares again honey?” I nodded my head and hugged her tight and felt a few tears escape my eyes and I said “I love you baby I swear I will love and protect you both no matter what happens you both will always have me you both mean so much to me Y/N, I can’t lose you or Lilly..” Y/N kissed my cheek and whispered “shhh it’s ok Andy I know we love you so much and you won’t lose us ok? Lilly is safe and I’m here with you honey it’s alright it’s gonna take time but I promise you’ll be alright I’ll be right here helping you through this my love, I love you so much Andy I’m so glad I married you.”

That moment when Y/N said that I kissed her forehead and felt happy for the first time in a very long time and I knew this felt right.

Hi Luv! I hope this is close to what you wanted 😊💜xx enjoy!

Taglist:

@jessybarnes

@lokiandbuckysdoll

@sunshine-on-my-mind

[trumpets0ng]

249- “Tradition Dies Hard”

Beginning / Previously /Next

((Vienna - Billy Joel))

For easier reading, please see transcript below the cut:

D: I see. And may I ask; why the hell not?

O: I meant no disrespect, sir. Truly. It’s a very generous gift. Very generous. It’s just… *deep breath* I’m a little uncomfortable with—

D: With??

W: *anxiously* Daddy… He doesn’t mean any—

O: *takes Walker’s hand and a steadying breath* Some time ago, I told Mrs. Pearson—

N: — Nicole, Obie. Nicole.

O: *shy smile* Apologies, Nicole. Last Winterfest, I told Nicole that I’d been saving up for years, just for this moment. I’ve always dreamt of providing a loving and safe home for my family; much like the one I had before losing my parents. I’ve worked hard for this. And while I am extremely appreciative of your— your amazing gift, I wouldn’t feel right accepting it.

O: I’m not a traditional guy. I’m sure that’s obvious by now. But in this instance, I want to be the one to provide for your daughter, sir. I know it sounds silly, but—

N: No. It doesn’t…That’s very sweet Obie. We have no doubt that you are capable of standing on your own. We just feel that you shouldn’t have to.

D: My wife is correct. I respect where you’re coming from, son. I do. But you don’t have to prove yourself—

 O: I’m not trying to. It’s just, it’s something that I want to do for my wife.

D: *nods to self & smirks* Walker? What say you, to all of this?

W: Um… I thank you for the offer daddy, but we’re ok. *Dane nods* Though, I wouldn’t say no to a car. *everyone laughs* I mean if we’re handing out cash…

N: How about help with the wedding instead? That’s traditionally the responsibility of the bride’s family, no? Would you both be ok with that?

W: *looks at Obie, who nods* We’d be amenable to that…

D: *chuckles* Amenable, huh?

N: Obie, luv, we’re sorry. We honestly meant no harm. We helped to pay toward Julian and Uchechi’s first home and didn’t even think how it might come across to you.

D: Nikki’s right. We’ve a bit of a blind spot when it comes to taking care of our family… which now includes you. It wasn’t a slight; though I understand if it read that way. When I proposed to Nikki, her dad—

N: *groans* Watcher, Dane! Let it go. It’s been nearly 40 years. No one needs to hear that story.

W: *giggles* Let’s just eat before it gets cold! *everyone laughs*

[the-slytherin-writer-12]

If you don’t mind, but can i pleaserequest spencer reid with a girlfriend who has a speech disability that can’t pronounce certain words, and letters (me lol) and she gets embarrassed by it as people make comments about it. Thank you so much luv!!! <3

Hi love! Thanks for requesting. I don’t really have experience with speech disabilities. But I’ll be sure to do the best I can. Also, I am so sorry for how long it’s taken to reply. School had me beat down.

Love you, no matter what

Pairing: Spencer Read x BAU!Agent!reader

Warnings: possible gore, violence

The team sat in the conference room, listening to Garcia tell them about the latest case.

“Pheonix, Arizona. We have a twelve year old girl, missing for three days,” Garcia states, putting the picture of the girl on the tv. “Twenty-four hours later, a fifteen year old boy comes up missing, too. Both of the kids’ rooms have broken windows, clothes thrown everywhere, and the beds were stripped of the sheets.”

“Possible sexual assault?” Morgan asks.

“Maybe, maybe not. Could the unsub use this to co-co-comfort the kids?” Y/N asked, cheeks heating up at her mistake. Specter, who sat beside her, grabbed her hand from under the table.

“Possibly. We need to fully examine the scenes. Wheels up in 30,” Hotch says.

When they arrived in Pheonix, Hotch instructed Spencer and JJ to go to the police station, Morgan and Y/N to go to the crime scene, and Hotch, Emily, and Rossi went to question the possible suspect.

Y/N crouched in the girl’s room, looking at a stain on the carpet.

“Could this be o-old?” She asked, and sighed afterward. Morgan walked over and crouched beside her.

“Maybe,” he swiped his gloved hand over the stain and lifted his hand up to eye level. “Looks like some type of liquid.” He brought his fingers close to his nose. “Smells like ketamine.”

“Isn’t that used for a-ana-anasth -“

“Anesthesia?” Morgan asked.

Y/n hung her head in shame and nodded. Morgan nodded as well and stood back up. He waved for forensics to come swab the stain.

“We might be looking at someone in the medical field,” Y/N said. Morgan hummed in agreement.

“Let’s go back to the precinct and let the others know.”

In the car, Y/N sat in the passengers side looking out of the window.

“Can I ask a question?” Morgan began.

“Sure?” Y/N said uncertainly.

“Have you always had the stutter?”

Y/N whipped her head to him in shock.

“I-uh, it’s not a stutter. I have a speech di-disability,” she said defiantly. Morgan raised one hand in defense seeing ad he was driving.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to offend you. I was just asking.”

“Can we just go back to the precinct?”

It was silent in the car from then on.

When they arrived at the station, Y/n practically ran out of the car and went to find Spencer. She found him hunched over several books, a pen in his mouth and his fingers running along the page of the book. Y/n slammed the door and made Spencer jump. He turned around and saw Y/N chewing her nails.

“Hey, Y/N. What’s wrong?” Spencer asked, getting up and walking towards her.

“I’m tired of my disability,” she sighed, and looked down at her shoes. Spencer nodded in understanding and stopped right in front of her.

“I understand,” he began. He put his hands on either side of her face and forced her to look at him. “But, it doesn’t make you inferior. It doesn’t make you any less smart, any less capable. You’re the same as anyone on the team, ok?”

“Ok,” she said, with a watery smile. “Thank you.”

Spencer smiled and kissed her forehead in response.

[computerlifeonline]

Would you actually fuck a dead person?? I'm into gore and stuff but that seems too extreme for me! I still love you tho<3

Yes definitely if I got the consent from the person to do it before they died!! Also it's ok if you're not into that stuff don't feel forced to like it just bc I post about it💜 luv u 2