#she only picks up one color during the course of season one

[regallibellbright]

“I’ve never seen such creative, aggressive golf.”

This is certainly one way to describe Eve’s playing style, Aoi. (I also forgot that Aoi alone can see the Rainbow Bullet colors. You know, I’d be pretty impressed by that, too, that’s fair.)

Come to that, we see Aoi do an (unnamed as yet, at least in this episode) Golf Jojo Power Visualization at the very top of the episode. I wonder what it’ll be called next time.

[ellieromanov]

Wasted flowers. N.R x Y/n

First fic on tumblr, let me know your thoughts and requests are always open.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: angst

Summery:

Y/n and Natasha are soulmates, they are perfect for each other, but life always has different plans.

Natasha’s point of view

Y/n and I met by chance and dumb luck. We were young and naïve, so clueless of the world and the cruelties it held, yet we thought we knew so much. It was spring in New York, I couldn't tell you the year but if you lived here during this particular spring, you would remember. It was the one when all the trees of Central Park blossomed with small flowers, the birds sang their song from dawn into the late hours of evening, and the breeze held a freshness that the city hadn't seen in centuries.

On this particular day I had wanted to clean up my apartment and make it feel more homely. After hours of picking the place up, rearranging furniture, and hanging up decorations it started to feel more like a home rather than a simple place to sleep. The last thing it was missing was a touch of greenery so I made my way to "Michael's Floral Design" to pick out a bouquet to set in the kitchen and maybe a few house plants.

I had pasted this flower shop on 85th St. nearly every single day on the commute to the tower but never really thought twice about it. I can still remember walking to the shop that day and getting red just at the thought of the 'big scary black widow' walking out of a flower shop with a bouquet of colorful flowers in hand. I can't remember why it embarrassed me so much. But I remember by the time I had arrived to the shop I didn't seem to care anymore, I was to mesmerized by all the colors to care.

I remember reading the name of every flower I saw and paying attention to every detail of every bouquet that was on display. And while I was browsing, the shopkeepers bell rang as someone entered the store, that someone being Y/n. Her hair was shorter back then and she looked much younger of course. I still remember the sweater she had on too. It was a knitted sweater that had so many layers of colors it was almost distracting, which was obviously a stark contrast to myself who was wearing all black. Little did I know that that sweater would eventually become my favorite years later.

I can't remember how we started talking but I'd like to think she was just charmed by me, but knowing Y/n she probably saw how confused I looked from across the store and decided to take pity on me. She helped me pick the flowers and I ended up leaving the store with more than I had planned on.

That night, for the very first time my apartment felt more inviting and and warm than it ever had in the past. What a simple difference flowers could make.

The next time we met it was a few months later in the fall at French bakery. I was sitting at a nearby table waiting for the worker to call my name for my coffee and breakfast when, again, the shopkeepers bell rang and in walked the same girl from the flower shop, only now her hair was slightly longer and died a darker color. But her face looked the same. This time She wore a black beret, a grey sweater and a white and black polkadot skirt. Not as colorful as she dressed earlier in the spring and I can remember wondering if maybe something had happened in between those times to have made her stop wearing so much color, or maybe she was just following along with the seasons. Either way I wasn't going to ask.

She walked up to the counter to place her order and as she was going to grab a seat to wait for her order to be called, I gave her a small wave. The smile she gave me as she walked to my table is one I'll never forget. This time I think I actually did charm her because we ended up staying at this bakery for hours just talking away. I didn't want to leave. I got her phone number that day.

After that we started talking on a regular basis, we'd text each other nearly every day and we'd plan to meet up when we could. It was later that November when she asked me on an official date. How was I meant to turn her down?

We went on a walk through her neighborhood, I remember it was cold and all the leaves had already fallen off the trees and the sun was starting to set much earlier, but I couldn't have cared less, because Y/n was the most wonderful girl I had ever met. She was smart, and witty and she was insanely funny, she made me laugh harder than I had ever laughed in my whole life. And she was gorgeous and kind and soft and she was so humble. It was a nice contrast from everything I was. We balanced each other out nicely.

During this walk through her neighborhood she stopped and greeted every shop owner, every child, and every neighbor with a smile as if she had known them her whole life, and maybe she did, I forgot to ask.

Later that night I walked her to her front door and she invited me in. Her appointment was colorful and crowded with little trinkets she had collected through out the years, art hanging on the walls, plants in every corner, and a bouquet of flowers on her kitchen counter. I ended up staying there that night.

The fall had come and gone and missions were slow, I think everything felt slow when I wasn't with Y/n, my days felt endless and my nights were torturous without her, but looking back now, I kind of wish things felt slow even when I was with her, that would mean I would've gotten more time to appreciate her and love her.

That December she invited me to spend the holidays with her and her family, I of course said yes. That was my first "real" Christmas, we had the food, the films, the decorations and the presents. Y/n's family was incredible, although nothing alike. They were loud and chaotic, unlike Y/n who was soft spoken and patient but it made sense. It was clear how much they all loved each other. The way Y/n and her siblings would interact and bicker always made me laugh and the love her parents had for each other made my heart full. Even though Y/n and I hadn't been dating long, her family took me in like I was their own.

The new year had flown by quickly, winter had pasted and so did the spring. I learned so much about her. I learned how much she loved to paint, and she loved to cook, and she loved playing her piano, of course she did, she was a composer. And I quickly learned how much I love, her. It was that summer that we had said it for the first time. We were drinking white wine on her balcony watching the sun slowly set when she said it. I didn't even think twice before saying it back.

When the next spring had approached we had moved in together, a small apartment in downtown Brooklyn, it was perfect, it was us.

A few months later Y/n got a dog, a Great Dane named Frodo. Of course out of any dog she could have picked she chose the horse. Frodo was the dumbest dog I've ever met but god was he lovable.

Y/n and I had our daily routines, we'd wake up, I'd start getting ready while Y/n started breakfast. Some days she'd make it herself, others she'd take Frodo on a walk to the bakery, and when she'd go to the bakery she'd also stop by the flower shop to pick up flowers as well. She'd get home, we'd eat, then she'd start getting ready while I cleaned up. And We always had to give at least five minutes of love and affection to Frodo before we left for work for the day. 

When we'd get home, we'd take Frodo an another walk through the park then stop by the market to pick up anything we may have ran out of through out the week. We'd get home and start dinner. Y/n was always the better cook but I did what I could to help without screwing it up. We'd finish dinner then have a glass of wine together on the balcony and talk about our days. Once the sun would set we'd go back inside and normally watch a film together, but sometimes she'd work on her latest Composition at the piano or she would keep working on her painting while I read to her. This was our day-to-day lives, and just how perfect it was.

It was June of the next year when Y/n had brought up the idea of marriage. I agreed with her without a  doubt, how could I not? Y/n was my other half. We'd been together for nearly 5 years.  We never had an official proposal, I never got down on one knee with a ring, and neither did she, we just started planning. We didn't need anything extravagant for it to be special, we just needed each other.

Time seemed to be moving so fast and before I knew it, it was already late fall again. This fall had been different from the others, Y/n didn't seem as present as she normally was, she seemed so lost in her own thoughts. At first it didn't worry me, she had a lot going on with work, she had just gotten a promotion at the symphony  she worked for so there was a lot of new changes and responsibilities.

But Y/n had started to forget more frequently too. She'd often forget what she had been doing only moments before and she'd forget what she wanted to say in the middle of our conversations. And for awhile I just thought it was all just work related stress.

But only a month later, Y/n was sent home on paid leave after having "an episode." She accused a coworker of stealing one of her books on composition arts that was important for a project she was working on. She forgot that she had happily loaned him the book just two days prior.

Y/n cried so hard that night, she didn't know why she didn't remember loaning the book. She was so frustrated. I suggested that we go to the doctors and that's what we did.

Stage three brain cancer.

The tumor was against the part of the brain that affects memory.

We walked out of that doctors office that day hand in hand. We were meant to go in and figure out what was going on then go home to get ready for one of Stark's Christmas parties but we didn't think that the diagnosis would be anything serious. We thought they'd tell us that she was just stressed and needed more rest, not that she had cancer that's causing early onset dementia. We both decided to keep it a secret.

That winter we spent half of the holidays with her family and the other half with the team at Clint a Laura's. Y/n had admitted to me that being around the team was less stressful than her family simply because she didn't want her family to notice something was wrong.

The holidays went by smoothly and Y/n started treatments. She was able to start working again later that march. When we got the diagnostic I asked Furry to cut down on my hours so I could be with her more often. He agreed to assign me to fewer missions.

That year passed by before we knew it. In all craziness we both dropped the idea of marriage until things had settled.

Frodo was getting older, he had silver down his back and around his eyes, he was getting slower at night too. We still walked him twice a day and would even bring him with us when we would meet with friends. He was always the bestest boy.

Y/n and I still had our daily routines, wake up, get ready and eat breakfast. Except for one time in particular, Y/n had wanted to go to the bakery with Frodo since it had been awhile since we had last went. 30 minutes went by and they weren't back, I called her but she didn't answer the phone. When I went to check her location she was almost in Jackson heights in Queens which was a 40 minute subway ride away. The bakery was only a 10 minute walk away.

I had gotten in the car to go pick her up. I was furious. When I had finally gotten to her she just cried in my arms.

And after that point Y/n's affliction only worsened. She stopped remembering things during her rehearsals with the orchestra and her compositions were in shambles, none of her music or writing made sense. She'd get awful headaches too. Every other night she'd cry herself to sleep because of the pain.

The second time there was an incident she was sent home on permanent medical leave. She was devastated. So was I. Some days I'd get the Y/n who would sing in the kitchen while she cooked us dinner, the Y/n who would sit on the balcony and paint, the Y/n who would joke about our unborn children, and the Y/n who could turn every negative into a positive... other days I'd get a stranger.

Her family was devastated when we finally told them, they started visiting from Seattle as often as the could after that.

Three years passed far to quickly and Y/n only got worse. Her memory was fading fast and the pain in her head only got worse. The worst was when I'd get mad at her like when she'd try to go on walks by herself or when she'd try to cook for herself. I couldn't do anything without her and she couldn't do anything without me. We eventually needed to give Frodo to the Barton's so they could take care of him and I asked furry to take me off the mission list all together so I could just do SHIELD work from home.

This brings us to two years ago. Y/n's memory didn't worsen to much since the worst of it, she still remembered exactly who I was and most of the time she understood what was going but she was so weak, most months consisted of multiple trips to the hospital where she'd be kept for a few nights. But towards the end of it, even her strongest medications couldn't help with the pain.

I remember we started using the spoon theory and color system not long after this. To get through our days we'd make a list of things we wanted to do. First Y/n had to give her color. Green Days were good days, she could get out of bed, take a walk, make dinner, paint, play her piano, etc. Yellow days she'd stay in our room or maybe the living room and sleep, maybe watch something on tv or read a book. And red days were the worst of them. She couldn't get out of bed, she couldn't eat, sleep, or talk. she couldn't do anything but lay there. Those were the worst.

But on green or yellow days we'd make a list of what we wanted to do. Each activity on the list took up a certain amount of energy, and Y/n only had so many spoon fulls of energy to give, that's why the call it the spoon theory. It just helped us do things without Y/n getting burned out.

The last hospital trip we went on she was kept for over a month, machines and wires where hooked up to her to make sure her heart didn't stop. It was so unexpected. The doctors didn't really understand how her health decreased in such a short amount of time. But they understood that my girl was in pain and they tried everything they could to stop that pain.

I believe deep down Y/n knew something the rest of us didn't, I think she knew it was her time, she was so tired and she was hurting and she was ready.

"Natasha."

"I'm sorry we didn't get married."

"I'm sorry we didn't have kids."

"I'm sorry that I can't remember all the time."

"I'm sorry we didn't get the life we wanted."

"I tried. I tried to get better but it hurts so much."

The Barton's would visit weekly, so would stark and other members of the team as well as Y/n's parents.

But I was the one who didn't leave her side. I was there through it all. I was there when she would sob in pain, I was there when she'd forget who our family's were. I was there when she wouldn't sleep for days on end. I was always there.

People often ask me if I regret it, being with her, falling in love with her, meeting her. I always tell them the same thing. Never.

I'd do it a thousand times over again if it meant I got to fall in love with her all over again. Fall in love with her smile and her laugh and her love of flowers, pastries, dogs, music and art. I'd do it all again if it meant that was a promise, that I'd be able to have my girl.

12/30/1992 - 11/11/2018

Y/n Y/l/n

Friend • daughter • sister • lover

Life goes on. two years have slipped away since Y/n has been gone. I’m not able to look at flowers the same anymore. They used to represent her spirit, colorful and lively. But now they mirror her paintings, cracked paint on a Canvas, the echo of her piano that’s lost it’s tune, or that one spring in the city all those years ago. flowers are just fleeting moments of a beauty that slip through our fingers like everything else. my world is quieter without her, and flowers, now seem like an attempt to hold onto moments that inevitably slip away.

[bucknastysbabe]

Hello! I saw your work when you wrote about three men from the house of the dragon (Jace, Aegon and Aemond) at once and I fucking loved it! I don't know if you can write something like this again? Maybe, somewhere during some kind of ball, some lord sticks to the reader in the corridor (very cruelly sticks, perhaps so that pieces of her paty remain (remember Sansa from the first season)) some lord, and she tries to fight back, but too much shocked and these men come to the rescue, God I hope you understand me thanks for your creativity!

My prince in shining silks?

Rating: Teen

Tags: Aegon II x Reader, Aemond x Reader, Jace x Reader, AFAB!Costayne reader, chivalry, sweetness really, fluffy, Aemond is emotionally constipated, Jace is a baby, Aegon and Sunfyre are BFFS, I get a little character studyish, TW: attempted rape, nondescript castration, Aegon’s past misdeeds

A/N: OF COURSE I LOVE STUFF LIKE THIS ENJOY XOXOXXO

Some say that the North remembers. But you’d like to say that the Hightower’s never, ever forgot a slight. They were too proud, too old of a family. Elevated to the highest position as they became the puppeteer for the Dragon. It was a grand tourney and feast in the Reach for young Prince Daeron’s 13th name day, a man grown now.

You were of House Costayne. Bannermen of the Hightowers, but had not so hidden preferences for Rhaenyra as rightful ruler for the future of the kingdom. Also the fact that your ancestor Elinor Costayne was a black bride of Maegor. Who was supposed to stay true to his Hightower bride. Therefore there wasn’t the best of blood between your families.

But your family was here. Quite spread thin if you could say. All filtered far away from the center of the jamboree. One of the dragons roared from far off. It sounded like Prince Daeron’s she-dragon Tessarion. Daeron was a kind soul and handsome. Too young for you by some years. You’d overheard Lord Hobart reprimand the lad after chatting to you, “You know what color her family’s flag flies.”

That was that. He didn’t speak to you much anymore, but would smile. You were a lady in waiting for Samantha Tarly, soon to be Hightower. It made things much worse for you and your position at the feast. Down with lesser nobility and the knights. Suddenly you felt very alone and afraid, picking at your meat nauseously.

A breath reeking of wine entered your ear, “Why’ve they got pretty little Costayne down here? You bed the princeling, incur the wrath of Lord Otto?” You turned to face the man, shock etched into your features, stuttering, “N-no my lord it must’ve b-been a mistake!” It was the huge second son of Lord Bulwer, Uther. He looked bullish like the sigil they bore.

He crowded into your space, grinning, huge hand gripping your shoulder. Bulwer grunted, “No one’s going to see when their pretty lady is gone, not down here. Maybe Prince Daeron will come to the rescue.” You remained quiet, eyes searching for a familiar face but found none. Tears leaked from your eyes as Uther led you farther away from the din of safety.

Aegon

Aegon hated these events. He lounged back and sloppily poured more mead down his throat. Alicent slapped his arm as to say, have some decorum you halfwit! The prince scoffed and got up, he needed to take a piss anyways. He sauntered through the woods, relieved himself, and decided to stagger over to his baby Sunfyre.

The golden beast huffed at Aegon, nuzzling his palm. The blonde softly chatted in Valyrian. He loved Sunfyre, so much, probably the only friend that unconditionally loved him. Both of their heads turned at the sound of a woman’s plea for help, cut off by the sound of a smack. Sunfyre growled lowly, turning to look at his owner as if to say, “Are we going to do something about that? What if it’s Hel?”

Aegon really couldn’t be bothered but he heard another shriek and Sunfyre had already dipped for Aegon to mount his beast. The elder prince eyed the dark forest, his golden dragon snorting and twitching it’s head to-and-fro. Aegon demanded, “Keligon,” he pat golden scales, “Ilagon.” Sunfyre let him hop off and come forward to the scene.

Some Reach lord, thick as a aurochs and hairy like one too had a girl shoved into the dirt, down in a rut, hands tearing at her garb. Aegon could see the tears in her eyes under the moonlight. Guilt constricted his chest. Is this what he thought was fun? The Targaryen needed to set himself right, help the girl.

“In the name of the Seven Kingdoms, your Prince commands you to cease at once!,” Aegon called down from his higher position. His dragon hung back, snorting and waiting. She cried, “Please! Prince Aegon! My virtue! I need Lady Tarly!” The lord snarled, “Your family stuck her at the end of the table for a reason, just having a little fun, get back to your silken chair.”

Just having a bit’ of fun.

Aegon was furious now, self-hatred fueling his desire to make this man burn. He barked, “I’ll ask one more time, get off the Lady and go back to your shitty house and their shitty wooden chairs.”

The aurochs scoffed and ripped the girls bodice with a grin. He really was stupid, drunk, or possibly both. She tried to cover her exposed teats, sobbing for Lady Tarly, her father, she was of Costayne. Costayne was a reputable house. This would be bad to ignore a bannermen’s virgin girl. Even if they were a bit astray. Maybe this could get them back.

Aegon looked over his shoulder to meet gleaming reptilian eyes. He pointed at the man and hissed, “Sunfyre, Dohaeris!” He mounted the dragon again, who let our a fierce screech. The ugly lordling hopped back and cried out in shock. The lady of Costayne covered herself and scurried backwards, getting even more dirty. The Prince directed his purple eyes to the man, “If I hear of you assaulting ladies of nobility again, all I have to do is say one word and you’ll be a nice roast.”

He dismounted again, thanking his dearest friend. The girl sat crumpled, heaving sobs, eyes swollen. Aegon offered her his cloak with a frown, asking, “Who was that?” Her wide eyes met his, beautiful in their sadness. Aegon liked sad things more than all of the revelry. She mumbled, “Uther Bulwer. I was supposed to be seated with Lady Tarly or my family. Thank you my Prince. I cannot repay you enough.”

Aegon hummed, “That’s horrid, I apologize on behalf of the dumb fuck who did that. C’mon, show me to your tent and I’ll get Tarly.” He gathered her up in his arms, her legs shaking too bad to take a step. Aegon looked at her crumpled face and asked gently, “Would you mind getting on my mount, he’s a good boy. Listens well.”

Her eyes grew wide at Sunfyre, but the dragon dipped its head and let out a soft purr as to show it’s good behavior. Aegon couldn’t help but smile at his mount. She stammered, “O-okay.”

She remained silent as Sunfyre ungainly took them to the Costayne and Tarly tents. He helped her down and carried the girl inside, who had calmed significantly. She even pat Sunfyre and whimpered, “T-thank you.” She received a pleased chuff in response.

When they entered the Costayne tent Aegon was assaulted by members of the family and a frantic Samantha Tarly. She cried and gathered the girl up, demanding, “Where was she? Where was my girl?” Lord Costayne came to Aegon and looked down, offering a hand to shake. Aegon explained, “I was uh- relieving myself and heard her. Uther Bulwark was attempting to take her virtue. His violets flicked over to the young lady being coddled by others, looking heavenly in his emerald cloak.

Costayne frowned deeply and hummed, “Raper. He should be sent to the wall. I would also request why the girl was seated at the end.”

Aegon dutifully nodded and replied, “I will return to my family and resolve the matter. May I speak to the girl?”

Narrowed eyes. Aegon still had a shite reputation.

“You may.”

Lady Sam looked up and allowed for Aegon to kneel at her side. He thumbed the ermine cloak and said, “Green is a nice color on you. Please be safe and mayhaps write a raven or send a message through Daeron. Good night to you.” She tearily smiled, “Thank you my prince, you are too kind.” The Costayne kissed his cheek with soft lips and that was it. He felt her eyes follow his retreating form.

Aegon decided he would marry the girl on his aggressive stomp back to the family tent. After he got Bulwer sent to freeze his cock off and chide his mother for being callous over the poor, beautiful, sad thing’s last name.

Jacaerys

Ser Harwin used to joke that Jace had his head constantly on a swivel. Which was a good trait, his father said. Jace knew the truth, who didn’t. Regardless, he was eyeing the feast. His Velaryon cousins were squabbling, the Targaryens looked pessimistic per usual. He took his time glaring down Daemon, who paid him no mind, whispering to mother. Daeron and Luke chatted amicably.

Baratheon, Lannister, Arryn, no Stark, Tyrell, even Martell had made their appearances. The rest of the Hightowers and their bannermen were at a table. Jace studied all the sigils of the Houses of the Kingdoms. He saw their green. Then the other colors of Tarly, Costayne, and Ball. Lord Costayne apparently had a very comely daughter, Lady Sam Tarly’s little lady in waiting. He didn’t spot her. Daeron had spoke of her beauty earlier but said he wasn’t allowed to interact per the old cunt Hobart.

He eyed to the outer tables of hedge knights, lesser houses, and high bastards. He saw the black and white of the Three Towers in a handsome dress. She was being shook and grabbed at by what seemed a Bulwer man. The man was twice his size but Jace would not stand for a raper or deviant like his cousin. He got up from his table, mother raising a questioning brow.

Jace silently stalked round to where the Bulwer was leading the muffled Costayne off. He darted behind them, using the cover of the night. Leaping forward he held a knife to the man’s thick neck, right on the pumping jugular. Jacaerys rumbled, “You’ll be castrated and sent to the wall for defiling a lady of her standing you fool.”

The man stiffened and Jace could smell piss as he nicked the skin of his neck with sharp Valyrian steel. He stammered, “She asked for it s-sir. Swear on it.” Jacaerys coolly replied, “Remove that paw of yours and let’s hear Lady Costayne then.” She turned to peer over Bulwer’s wide shoulder, weeping, “Please help Prince Jacaerys, I wish to be with my family!”

Bulwer let go of her and dashed off into the woods with a curse. She bowed and thanked him profusely, tears staining perfect cheeks. Jace frowned, “I apologize if the fool got piss on your beautiful dress m’lady. How in the Seven Hells did you end up at the edge of the feast?”

She bit her lip to stay quiet, eventually whispering, “My family supports your mother. The Queen did not like that. And no, somehow the piss missed my dress, thank you.”

Jacaerys gruffed, “Good choice on your family, even in the nest of Greens. Let me escort you back to their table, yes?” She grabbed his hands and kissed them gently, demurring, “Yes my prince, thank you.” Jace kept his hand at the small of her back as he led her to the Tarly-Costayne table. They received her joyfully, cheering the prince on. Lord Costayne gave a solemn nod and smile. The girl turned with flushed cheeks, “A dance later perhaps?”

Jacaerys smiled, “I’ll be waiting.”

Rhaenyra questioned him, “What were you doing over there? Right in the Tower. Or one of them.” Jace puffed his chest out, “I saved Lady Costayne’s virtue from some brutish Bulwer second son.” Daemon patted his back and commended, “Good man. That will be a boon for their support. Lady Tarly thinks her as a daughter.”

When Jace spun the beauty around later, he dreamt of her in a gorgeous Targaryen maiden’s cloak. They shared a kiss in the crowd later, her asking him to visit on Vermax some time. Jace eagerly acquiesced, promising to find the time. Something no one was sure how much was left.

Aemond

Aemond growled to himself, “Fuck tourneys, fuck parties, fuck feasts, and especially fuck my brother.” He swung at a tourney dummy outside of the revelry. They wouldn’t come looking, maybe send Criston if something was really needed. There was no time for shite like this, the man needed to train for the war.

He wanted blood. Especially Strong blood.

The Targaryen’s second son sharply swung down at the dummy, grunting with effort. He thought of drunkard Aegon probably taking some serving wench’s cunt and swung again. Why did the gods resort him to this status? The spare. They must have a purpose for him somewhere.

He heard shuffling and a grunt from his left. A girl’s muffled squeal. Aemond’s hearing was better on his blind side. See Criston had assisted him into honing that into an advantage. He stopped his swinging and paused.

“Stop! My virtue! They will know!,” came a small voice.

Clothes were ripped. A gruff voice slurred, “Like they care, Green’s just waiting for a reason to make you a silent sister. Shut up whore!” Another muffled yelp echoed into the quiet tourney grounds.

Aemond crouched and moved forward, eye searching for the raper. He was taking a lady of repute, he could hear that much from her accent. He arrived outside the stables, a horse whinnying in distress. Horses were smart like that, like his Vhagar, could pick up on people. The blonde snuck around the stables, quietly peering through slats until he saw the pair.

A…pretty young lady. Being defiled by some brute. Aemond swung open the door and yelled, “Stop now you raping cunt!” The man turned around with a growl, standing to his full height. He was obviously drunk. The man reached for his sword, clearly unable to tell he was about to swing on a Targaryen as Aemond had his cloak up.

The man wore the bull sigil of Bulwer. He had a great sword. Perfect, Aemond could outmaneuver the lummox. The girl held her arms over her exposed chest, mouth agape, deep eyes wide. The man swung down in a clumsy arc, the prince deflecting it and jumping to the side to strike at the man’s ankle, cutting him down. Bulwer howled and cursed, struggling to get up. Aemond yanked down his cloak and tossed it to the girl.

The bull’s face was etched with fear upon realization of who he just attacked. Aemond laughed bitterly, amused at the surprise. He crouched over the man and sheathed his sword, pulling out a sharp knife. The blonde politely called out, “Close your eyes my lady, I have to do something before this fool is sent to the wall.”

Bulwer trembled, struck with fear. Aemond grinned as he unlaced the man’s breeches, “Won’t have to freeze your cock and balls off at the wall if you don’t have any more.”

Cries and squalling of pain filled the tourney grounds, widely unheard by the feast. Now cradling his once privates, the Bulwer whimpered and moaned in pain. Aemond wiped his hands on the deviant’s clean doublet and stood back up.

The girl had gotten up by now, still closing her eyes. Aemond cleared his throat awkwardly and said, “It’s over now my lady. He won’t be able to hurt a lady again.” She opened her teary eyes and wrapped Aemond into a tight hug. The prince was shocked, wrapping his lean limbs around her waist, the jewels pressing into his sleeves. He murmured, “You’re safe, yes, what’s your house my lady?”

“C-Costayne.”

Black supporters. Aemond’s lips pressed together. He wanted the lady to be a fervent supporter of his family. The second son needed a wife too. Maybe this ordeal would change things around. She sighed, “I thought you were this scary, mean, vicious dog they kept at the keep.”

Aemond laughed, genuinely, he liked her melodic tone. He replied, “I can be, but I also practice chivalry.” She hummed, “Yes, I’ve seen that.” Aemond wanted to stay in her arms, smell her scent even if marred by the musk of horse.

He asked anyways, “Would you like an escort back?”

She shook her head, divine face looking up to his. Costayne meekly asked, “Would it be inappropriate if we stayed like this for awhile, my prince?” Aemond found himself pressing his lips to hers gently, sharing a sweet peck. He murmured, “Probably so, but let’s find a place better than around him.” They both chuckled, held hands, and found a spot by the babbling brook.

They’d find them later. Holding hands and chatting. That would be the last time she stayed in the Reach for many a year.

[doppel-doodles]

Watch me ramble on about Leshy, because I dont have time to doodle all of these-

The way Leshy "helps" Heket with cooking is basically she uses him as a trashcan, got any scraps? Just dumperoo it into your little bros mouth, doesn't matter if it's vegetable scraps,chunks of animal or follower meat. The little guy will happily consume anything.

Leshy is also very active during the night and prefers to take long naps during the day, but of course not in his home, naaaah homeboy is making himself comfortable in the sunniest spot there is, bonus points if there is a lot of nutritious dirt for him to lay in.

Building on that one, ever since his crown was taken he actually doesn't just do this because its nice but because he NEEDS sunlight and nutrients from the ground or else he'll get sick, normal food won't cut it in healthily sustaining him for long periods of time.

And of course he needs lots of water, him and Kallamar will often collect it together, though let’s be honest he carries the bulk.

Speaking of Kallamar he once caught Leshy being horribly malnourished as he was still adjusting to his mortal body, he was no longer used to the whole sun routine, and immediately Kallamar dragged him screeching and clawing tooth and nail to the nearest farm plot and proceed to bury him up to his neck in the dirt. Leshy was knocked out into a power nap almost instantly.

One can only dream of having an older brother that cares for you a delicately as Kallamar fr fr♡

Can we all spread the headcanon that if the seasons were to change Leshy's leafs would also change color and he would basically go bald in the winter?- I dunno man I just think that's such a funny idea. Also I'm not sure what idea would be better, him just being a bunch of sticks under his leafs or there being like actual flesh-

Also this in autumn:

Leshy:"It's not a phase shamura! "

Shamura:"Right you are younger brother, it is not a phase, but a season." *pats head*

And instead of getting acne berries would just start growing all over his face(for the love of the gods do not eat them-).

Out of all the Bishops he actually gets along the most with the Lamb, like you could call them friends??? even as he has no problem insulting them to their face five seconds later. Mainly because they also are pretty chaotic, which he respects. Leshy would even go as far as claim they could've been a worthy acolyte or even a favored disciple if they hadn't been born a Lamb.

He is the most aggressive towards Narrinder, he basically takes any opportunity to mess with him or pick a fight and if there’s none he will create one himself.

[psychedelic-ink]

𝑭𝑳𝑶𝑾𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑴 𝑰𝑵 𝑾𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑹

pairing: modern!din djarin x f!reader

genre: romance, holiday fic, flowershop au, fluff

word count: 5.4k

summary: A spiteful coworker ruins the flower arrangements you had hoped to compete with. Not knowing what can be done, you entertain a young boy named Grogu who comes in at the same time wanting to buy a bouquet for his father. The next day, Din returns and offers to help you out with your work until a competition. However, he is a bit awkward and clumsy when it comes to love.

warnings: single dad!din, grogu being adorable, so much fluff, me trying to figure out what's it like working at a flower shop

a/n: this is my secret santa gift for @writeforfandoms ! thank you to @pedrostories who hosted the event, I had a blast writing this and I hope you enjoy, happy holidays! ♡♡♡

my prompt was; something soft and sweet - a holiday meet cute, or a holiday date.

You approach the flower shop you work a with a pep in your step. You can see that the windows are decorated with festive wreaths and garlands. The cold winter air nips at your nose as you push open the door, and you're greeted by a warm, cozy atmosphere inside. The shop is filled with the fragrant scent of pine and holly, and there are all sorts of beautiful holiday arrangements on display. You see poinsettias in every shade of red and green, as well as colorful bouquets of winter flowers like amaryllis and paperwhites. you can't help but feel a sense of cheer and joy in the midst of the cold winter season. 

You walk to the back, especially excited to see the holiday arrangements you made for the holiday flower show. You’ve been working on them day and night the past week, honestly, you were kind of proud of them. They truly turned out beautiful, even Cassian himself had said so, and he was one of the best in the business.

With a shudder, you remove your coat and beanie, and you feel a sense of dread wash over you. With horror, you notice that the room is in complete disarray, with flowers and foliage scattered everywhere. You can hardly believe your eyes as you take in the destruction of your beloved arrangements.

The once beautiful display is now a colorful mess. You feel a wave of emotions wash over you - shock, sadness, and anger. The once vibrant and carefully arranged flowers are now a jumbled mess, with petals crushed underfoot and broken stems lying haphazardly on the ground. Your heart sinks as you survey the damage. Kneeling down, you touch the white and pink petals, they’re soft, feeling like silk against your fingertips.  

As you begin to pick up the scattered petals and broken stems, your heart feels heavy. You had put so much time and effort into creating these arrangements, and now they were ruined. As you work to clean up the mess, you try to focus on the task at hand, but your mind keeps drifting back to the destruction. 

You know who’d done it of course. Only three people worked here after all; you, your boss —Cassian, who was out during the time of the crime— and your coworker. Claire. She hated your guts from the start, and her grievances simmered like a fine winter stew each day you worked together. It was her doing. You are sure of it. 

You’ve been waiting to join the show for a good while now. The years before you were either too busy or something came up; last year, during New Year’s you had promised yourself that you would join but apparently, that wish of yours isn’t going to happen. 

You hear soft footsteps, knowing who it is, you don’t look up and scoop up the last remnants of the ripped petals. 

“What happened?” Cassian asks, looking down at the mess. “I was out only for an hour,” 

You scoff, hiding your disappointment by looking down at your hands, “What do you think happened?” 

“I’ll talk to her.” 

“Don’t bother— If you’re not going to fire her, there’s no point in talking.” 

The silence that follows is louder than words. You can’t really blame him for not firing her. Firing Claire meant that her father took away the money he poured into the shop thanks to her daughter working here.

You understand Cassian's predicament, but it doesn't make the situation any easier for you. You feel betrayed and hurt that she would go to such extremes, and it's hard to shake the feeling.

"I'm so sorry," Cassian says, kneeling down next to you. "I had no idea she would do something like this. I'll make it right, I promise."

You shake your head, feeling defeated. "I don't know how you can make this right. The show is in a few days, and all my arrangements are ruined. I won't have time to start over."

"I'll help you," Cassian offers. "We'll work together and create new arrangements. I know it won't be easy, but… We can manage to do this."

You look at Cassian, feeling touched by his words. You appreciate the offer, but you just can't bring yourself to accept it. Your mood has been ruined, and you don't feel up to working on anything new. You shake your head and try to smile, hoping that Cassian will understand.

As you continue to clean up the mess of your destroyed flower arrangements, you hear the sound of the shop's door opening. You look up to see a young boy walking in, a bright smile on his face as he looks around at the various flowers and plants. He must be about five or six years old.

You can't help but smile back at the curious little boy, noting the small patch of green hair peeking out from under his dark brown locks. He looks full of energy and enthusiasm, and you feel a sense of warmth toward him.

"Hello there," you say, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted despite the frustration you're feeling. "Welcome to the shop. Do you need any help? Are you here alone?”

The boy looks up at you, a sheepish expression on his face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause any trouble," he says. "My dad is just next door at the coffee shop. He said I could come in and take a look around while he finishes ordering."

You’re relieved that the boy isn’t completely alone. "Oh, that's alright," you say with a smile.

The boy looks up at you, his big brown eyes shining with excitement. "I'm looking for a special flower for my dad," he says. “A lot of’em.”

You can't help but feel touched by the boy's thoughtfulness. “So, a bouquet then?” you look fondly at Cassian who nods and smiles. 

“What’s your name?” he asks slightly kneeling forward. 

“Grogu,” 

“Alright then Grogu, follow us. We’ll make sure you have something special for your dad,” 

You and Grogu browse the selection of flowers and plants, and you chat about what kind of bouquet would be perfect for his father. You ask about his family, and Grogu tells you that he doesn’t have a mom, your heart breaks at his tone. You can see the sadness in his eyes but don’t pry further. 

Just then, Cassian's phone rings and he excuses himself to take the call. You and Grogu are left alone to continue your flower shopping. Despite the unexpected turn of events, you’re grateful for the chance to spend some quality time with little Grogu. You both continue to chat and browse the selection of plants, getting to know each other better as you go.

As you talk, you’re drawn to the boy's infectious curiosity and enthusiasm. He's full of questions about the different flowers and plants, and you find yourself laughing at his adorable observations.

"Hey, do you think this flower looks like a ballerina?" Grogu asks, pointing to a delicate pink rose.

You can't help but chuckle at the comparison. "I can see it now," you say with a smile. "A little ballerina flower twirling amongst the other blooms."

Grogu giggles, his eyes sparkling with delight. "Yeah, and I bet she's a really good dancer too!" he says.

He's such a sweet and lovable little guy. He’s a little spark of joy after the morning you had. 

Your thoughts briefly drift back to the ruined arrangements that you had worked so hard on. It's hard to push the disappointment and frustration out of your mind, but you know that you need to focus on the task at hand - helping Grogu choose a special gift for his father.

Suddenly, the little boy turns to you with a determined look on his face. "Can I make the flower bouquet myself?" he asks.

You smile at Grogu's enthusiasm and desire to be involved in the process. "Of course, you can," you say with a smile. "I'd be happy to help you put it together."

Grogu beams at you, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Thank you!" he says.

Grogu starts to put together the flower arrangement for his dad, you can see that he's a little bit unsure of himself. He's not experienced with flowers, and he's a little bit nervous about getting it right. 

Together, you choose a selection of colorful flowers and greenery. You show Grogu how to trim the stems and arrange the flowers in a pleasing way. He listens carefully to your instructions and tries his best to follow along.

The final arrangement isn't the most expertly done, but it's cute and charming. Grogu looks at it with pride and a big smile on his face. "I think my dad will really like it," he says.

Just as you're about to ring up the purchase, Grogu realizes that he doesn't have any money on him. He looks at you with a mix of embarrassment and sadness, and you can see that he's worried that he won't be able to take the flowers home after all.

You hesitate for a moment, considering your options. You know that you’re not supposed to hand out flowers to every kid that wonders inside, but you also can't bear the thought of disappointing Grogu. In the end, you decide to let him take the flowers home with him. You know that you'll find a way to make it work. Honestly, you doubt Cassian will mind anyway.

"Don't worry about it, Grogu," you say, smiling at him. "I'm sure your dad will love the flowers, and that's all that matters. You can pay me back next time."

Grogu's face lights up with gratitude, and he thanks you. You can see that he's truly touched by your kindness, and you feel happy that you were able to spread a little bit of joy.

Just as Grogu is leaving the shop, you see Claire walk in. She looks smug and self-satisfied, and a surge of anger and resentment bubbles inside you. You struggle to keep your emotions in check.

"Hey, looks like someone had a good day," Claire says, eyeing the flowers in Grogu's hand as the boy leaves. "I guess some people just have all the luck."

You can feel your temper rising, and you struggle to keep your voice calm. "Luck had nothing to do with it," you say, trying to keep the sarcasm out of your voice. "Grogu was just a kind, thoughtful kid. Unlike some people, who seem to get their kicks from destroying other people's hard work."

Claire rolls her eyes, looking annoyed. "Whatever," she says. "I don't have time for this. I just came to see if there was anything I could help with."

You can feel your blood boiling, but just then, Cassian comes back into the shop. He looks from you to Claire, sensing the tension in the air. "What's going on here?" he asks, frowning.

"Nothing," you say, shaking your head. "Just a misunderstanding. I think it's best if Claire and I just stay out of each other's way for a while."

Cassian nods, looking relieved. "I think that's a good idea," he says, turning to Claire. "I think it's best if you take the rest of the day off. We'll talk more tomorrow."

Anger crosses Claire’s face, but she nods and leaves the shop without another word. You can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the resolution, you take a deep breath and turn to Cassian, grateful.

“Thanks, but you know you’re going to hear an earful from her dad right?” 

“I know,” he answers, exasperated. “I just didn’t have the patience to deal with her. Tomorrow’s Cassian will have to deal with it.” 

It’s a brand new day yet you don’t feel hopeful or renewed at all. Claire is inside working on her own arrangements while you look over the shop. Your mind keeps drifting back to the events of the previous day. You're still angry and you can't shake the feeling of frustration as you go about your work.

You move around the shop, carefully arranging flowers in vases and pots. You start with a bouquet of bright yellow daffodils, adding in sprigs of baby's breath and a few fern fronds for texture. Next, you tackle a vase of deep red roses, interspersing the blooms with sprigs of greenery and a few spiky thistles for contrast.

You admire the vibrant colors and delicate shapes of the flowers. Despite your anger and frustration, you find a sense of calm in the repetitive, soothing motions of flower arranging.

Suddenly, the bell above the door jingles, and —what you assume— a customer enters the shop. You put on a smile and turn to greet them, trying to push your anger to the back of your mind as you prepare yourself to help them. 

“That’s her daddy. She’s the one that helped me!” 

Your eyes drop down at the voice, you see Grogu from yesterday, his smile is wide as he points at you, his other hand nestled within a much larger one that clearly doesn’t belong to him. 

Your gaze slowly lifts from the child, and you are met with the sight of a man whose features are both rugged and refined. Confidence and charm exude from his face, and his dark, expressive eyes seem to speak to your very soul. His smile, warm and genuine, lights up his entire being.

"Hello," he says, his voice deep and rich. "Grogu told me about yesterday. I'm sorry if he caused you any kind of trouble."

You shake your head violently, your cheeks are uncomfortably warm and at the same time cold. You compose yourself with a deep breath. “He wasn’t any trouble at all, really— In fact he improved my day a long shot,” 

“That’s good to hear,” he says. 

His lips are parted as if he’s about to say more but Grogu peels his tiny hand away from his father’s and runs towards you. You look down, shocked, and raise your hands, not really knowing what to do with them. Hesitantly, you meet the man’s gaze and he softly nods, only then do you softly touch the young boy’s back, giving him a hug. 

“He also told me that he couldn’t pay when we reached home,” he continues a hint of annoyance surfacing mid-sentence. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He takes a step forward. “It’s a bit late but I would like to pay for it. They were lovely,” 

“Oh,” you stare at him wide-eyed, Grogu looks up at you with a smile. “Well—Thank you for offering but there’s no need. I’m glad you enjoyed them, Grogu made it,” 

“With your help,” the child says, tiny brows furrowing. “We did it together!” 

“Yes, yes we did,” you chuckle, patting him on the back. He moves away from you and starts to observe the arrangements you made. 

“That’s very kind of you but I should pay,” he says stepping forward his hand mid-pulling out his wallet. “How much do we owe you— Grogu don’t mess up the flowers,” 

When you turn you see Grogu looking at his father like a dear in headlights, the tips of his fingers touching one of the daffodils. Looking embarrassed, he pulls back his hand and gives you an apologetic look. 

But that’s not what you’re thinking about at all. You’re thinking about the way the man’s voice changed, the strictness of it, a shudder rolls down your spine and heat settles at your tailbone. You swallow. 

“Like I said it’s okay,” 

Din's eyes linger on you, taking in your earnest expression and the way your hands remain raised, refusing payment. After a moment, he gives in, sighing and stuffing his wallet back into his pocket. 

"Let me at least buy you coffee," Din says, a smile stretching into a grin as he sees the shock on your face. "My name is Din by the way," he adds, extending his hand toward you. "Nice to meet you."

You introduce yourself and give his hand a firm squeeze, feeling the strength and warmth of his grasp. Din's smile is infectious, and you find your own lips curving upwards in response.

“I need to drop off Grogu now, but how about I meet you here in about an hour? Would you be free then?” 

Your eyes move towards the hallway that leads to the room Claire is making her arrangements in, you nod without a second thought. Cassian owes you a favor anyway. 

You and Din sit near the window of the cozy coffee shop. The winter air outside is crisp and cold, but inside, the shop is warm and inviting. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods fills the air, and you can't help but breathe in deeply, savoring the rich, comforting aroma.

The shop is bustling with activity, and the sound of laughter and conversation fills the air. The walls are adorned with warm, cozy blankets and colorful throw pillows, creating a sense of comfort and hominess. The light from the large windows filters in, casting a soft, golden glow on everything it touches.

You sit and sip your coffee, you listen enthusiastically to what Din has to say. It���s already been an hour since you came in and neither of you shows no signs of wanting to leave. As expected of him, Din talks a lot about Grogu, which makes you smile widely. You also learn that he’s quite the skilled man, he tells you how he enjoys model building and how he might have a bit of an addiction to legos. You say that you’re the same with plants, your home basically a greenhouse with how much flora you have. 

He briefly mentions the passing of Grogu’s mother but before you can say anything he takes a bite of his muffin and directs a question at you. 

“So, what’s your story? Did you always want to work at a flower shop?” 

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, wrapping your hands tightly around the mug of coffee as you consider Din's question. You relish the warmth of the mug, letting it seep into your bones. He crosses his legs and leans against the window, his demeanor much more relaxed now. 

“I mean, I know you like plants, but that’s a bit different from making floral arrangements isn’t it?” 

"I started working at the flower shop when I was desperately searching for a job," you answer, turning back to Din. "The flower shop was hiring. I wasn't sure if I would enjoy it at first, but I ended up loving it. There's something so satisfying about it that stuck with me. I’ve been working with Cassian ever since."

Suddenly, the sound of a ringing phone interrupts your conversation. You reach into your pocket and pull out your phone, glancing at the screen before answering. It’s Cassian, you already have an inkling of what’s going on.

"Hello?" you say, your voice a little bit louder than it was before. "Oh, hey. Yeah, I'm at the coffee shop. What's up?"

“I’m sorry but I need you to come back,” his modulated voice reaches you. “I—Well—Claire is occupied, she’s saying she can’t have her flow of inspiration be cut,” 

“I hear you loud and clear,” you sigh, once again reminded of your own ruined chances of joining the competition. “I’ll be right there,” 

After a few minutes, you end the call and turn back to Din with an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry about that," you say. "I have to go."

Din nods, "Of course," he says. "I hope everything is okay."

“Well…more or less,” 

“We can…” he takes a sharp breath and continues. “We can talk about it if you want to—I don’t want to pry, of course, but I just thought I should ask,” 

You hesitate for a moment, considering Din's offer. You usually don't open up to people about your dreams and struggles, but for some reason, you feel like you can trust him. There's something about Din that makes you feel safe and understood, and you find yourself wanting to confide in him.

"Well, I actually wanted to join the local holiday flower show," you say, your voice low and hesitant. "But my co-worker —her name is Claire— destroyed them but nothing can be done because of her dad’s influence on the shop and now she gets to work on her own arrangements and I’m being beckoned to look over the shop because she doesn’t want her—"you make quotation marks with your fingers. “—flow of inspiration be cut.”

Din nods, a sympathetic expression on his face. "Are you still going to compete?” 

"I don't know," you say, feeling a sense of frustration bubble up inside of you. "I'm just so agitated right now. And I don't think I'll be able to get everything together in time for the competition even if I tried."

Din's expression turns to one of concern. "You can't give up just because of a shitty co-worker—Sorry for swearing but—" he says adding the second part with haste, his voice laced with a hint of anger. "Your co-worker shouldn't have destroyed your arrangements like that. You have to keep going and not let her hold you back."

Before you can say anything he raises his hand, his brows furrowed. 

“I’ll help you,” he says. “We can make it together.” 

“W-Wait, what?” you blink in shock. “You would really do that?” 

"Of course. Besides It's no problem," he says. "I'm happy to help. And I have a feeling that we're going to make an amazing team." when you stare at him, unsure, he winks and takes another sip of his coffee. “Besides, I owe you for the bouquet.” 

You and Din are huddled over a table covered in flowers and supplies, focused on creating the perfect arrangements for the competition. You can feel the tension between you, but it's a good kind of tension. You're both nervous and excited, and you keep stealing glances at each other as you work.

"Okay, so I think we should start with this bouquet of roses," you say, holding up a bundle of deep red flowers. "We can add in some baby's breath for texture, and maybe some fern fronds for a pop of green."

As you reach for a pair of scissors, your hands brush against each other, and you feel a jolt of electricity run through your body. You pull back quickly, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

Din seems to feel it too, and you see a hint of a smile on his lips. "Yeah, that sounds good," he says, his voice low. "I think we should also mix in some of these daisies for a bit of contrast."

You grin at him, trying to play it cool despite the flutter in your chest. "That's a great idea," you say, your voice a bit unsteady. "And we could add in some spiky thistles for a bit of edge."

Din chuckles, his eyes lighting up with amusement. "Thistles? Are you trying to kill me?" he asks, playfully swatting at your hand.

Your laughter fills the air, a melody of joy and surprise. You never expected to get along so well with Din, but the connection between you seems almost magical. As you work side by side, you can't help but wonder if there's something deeper, something that goes beyond. Could it be love blooming between you, like the flowers you tend with such care? The thought makes your heart flutter.

As you gently weave the flowers together, your hands accidentally meet, a spark igniting between you. You gaze into each other's eyes, and in that moment, you feel like the world falls away. You're drawn towards Din, an undeniable pull that makes your lips tingle with anticipation. But just as you lean in, he breaks away, licking his lips and looking uncertain. You withdraw as well, your heart racing, wondering if you were just imagining things.

Just then, Cassian enters the shop, and you introduce him to Din. You mention that Din is Grogu’s father and Cassian’s eyes lit up when he remembers the young boy from the days before.

"I'm so glad to see you two working together," Cassian says. "And I'm happy that you're going to compete in the flower show. I honestly believe you’re the best one to win, "

Cassian heads inside and you turn to Din, explaining to him that the shop has been struggling lately and that the money from the competition could help. You also mention how Claire's father has been causing problems for Cassian, and how you're hoping to find a way to deal with it. The money might help, you add.

Din listens attentively, "I'm here to help in any way I can," he says, squeezing your hand. "We'll figure it out together."

You and Din work on the arrangements. A sense of ease and comfort in each other's company. As you carefully place the flowers in a vase, Din speaks up.

"I haven't felt this way in a long time," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "Ever since Grogu's mother passed away, I've been so focused on him that I haven't really allowed myself to think about anything else."

You look at Din, your heart filled with compassion. "I'm so glad that Grogu came into the shop that day," you say, surprised at how soft, and sincere you sound. "I'm glad that we got to meet."

Din smiles at you. "Me too," he says. "I feel like I'm finally starting to come back to life."

You both continue working on the arrangements, you're falling for Din, and you can tell that he feels the same way—At least, you hope that he does. 

When the two of you are finally done, you glance at one another. But just as you're lost in each other's gaze, Din trips and falls, his arms flailing as he tries to catch himself. You try to catch him too, but he ends up pulling you down with him, and the two of you tumble to the ground in a heap.

You both lay there, laughing and trying to catch your breath. 

“Whoops,” he says, his hands secured on your hips. “Are you okay?” 

“Vey much so,” you grin. “What did you even trip on?” 

“I honestly have no idea,”

-Din gathers his things and gets ready to leave, you walk him to the door. The air outside is cold and crisp, and the snow is falling gently from the sky. You breathe in the winter air, relishing in the crispness of it.

"The competition is tomorrow morning," you say, your voice filled with anticipation. "I just wanted to thank you again for all your help. I couldn't have done it without you."

Din smiles at you, his eyes shining with warmth. "It was my pleasure," he says. "I'm just glad I could be of help."

As he turns to leave, you feel like he’s slipping from your fingers, for some reason you’re convinced that if he leaves now you’ll never see him again. You're not ready for him to go—With a boldness that surprises even you, you lean forward and give him a quick peck on the cheek.

The touch of your lips on his skin sends shivers down your spine. Din's eyes widen in surprise, and he licks his lips nervously.

"I-I should go," he stammers, fingers brushing where you kissed. "I'll see you tomorrow."

And with that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing at the door, your heart racing with excitement and anticipation for what the future might bring.

The morning air is crisp and invigorating as you and Cassian make your way to the competition. 

Your senses are overwhelmed by the sight and smell of all the beautiful flowers on display when you enter the room. You see rows of vibrant bouquets and intricate arrangements, each one more stunning than the last. 

Your eyes wander across the seats, feeling slightly disappointed when you don’t see Din there. You had hoped that he would be here with Grogu, but it seems like he got preoccupied with something else. 

Despite this, you refuse to let it get you down. You focus on your own arrangements, determined to give it your all. You can see Claire setting up her flowers on the other side of the room, a smug smile on her face. You can't wait to show her that you're not going to be held back by her petty actions.

The judges slowly make their way around the room, you feel your nerves start to build.  Claire looks at you with annoyance as the judges approach her table, and you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction as you watch her fidget nervously.

The judges finally reach your table, you hold your breath and watch as they carefully inspect your arrangements. You can't gather anything from their expressions, but you try to keep a positive attitude. You glance over at Cassian when one of them reaches out and touches one of the roses, he gives you a reassuring thumbs up. You feel your chest tighten with hope and anticipation as the judges move on to the next table.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the judges make their way back to the front of the room to announce the winners. You cross your fingers and hold your breath as the first-place prize is announced.

As the judges are about to speak, you see Din and Grogu slip into the room and take a seat next to Cassian. Din catches your eye and gives you a smile, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the room disappears and it's just the two of you. Your heart races as Din's piercing gaze meets yours, and the air between you crackles with electricity.

You can feel your body responding to Din's presence, you can't help but be drawn to him. His rugged features and piercing eyes captivate you, and you can't help but wonder what it would be like to feel his lips pressed against yours, to be enveloped in his embrace. The judges' voices fade into the background as you are lost in a haze of possibility and hope, knowing that, with Din by your side, anything is possible.

But before you can fully process this moment, the judges announce the winner. When they announce your name, the crowd cheers and you feel every muscle in your body going limp with shock, your lips parting wide with a sharp gasp. But as you accept your prize and look back up, you see that Din has vanished, leaving Grogu holding Cassian's hand. Cassian, understand what you’re asking immediately, points towards the door.

You quickly make your way toward the exit, when you step outside, the cold winter air bites at your skin, but you hardly notice. You're too focused on the man in front of you, the one who has captured your heart and your soul.

Din stands before you, his eyes shining with pride and love. "I'm so happy for you," he says, his voice filled with emotion. "You deserve this victory."

“I couldn't have done it without you,” 

“Do you think I have a career in flower arrangements?” 

You chuckle, lips curved as you gaze at him, “Maybe, you want me to put in the word to Cassian?”

Much to your surprise, he wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his body. Din teases you to look up by wiggling his eyebrows. Confused, you look up only to see that he's holding a sprig of mistletoe over your head, a hint of crimson on his cheeks.

"A bit lame, I know," he says, trying to play it cool. "But I couldn't think of anything else to do."

You grin at Din, every nerve in your body singing with delight. You can't resist the opportunity to show him just how much he means to you. You lean in and give him a soft, lingering kiss, feeling his strong arms wrap around you as he returns the gesture with equal enthusiasm.

Din seems a bit surprised at first, but then he holds you tight and the two of you stand there in each other's embrace, the world around you melting away. You feel like you're floating on air, lost in the magic of the moment.

Eventually, you reluctantly pull back, your lips still tingling with the memory of the kiss. You can't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation, feeling giddy and lightheaded with happiness. You've always been a bit of a romantic, and Din seems to have caught on to that. You can't wait to see what the future holds for the two of you. With Din by your side, anything seems possible.

[junkissed]

it's a wonderful life

day two of junkissed's svt season's greetings event

member — angel!jeonghan x reader genre — fluff, strangers to lovers word count — 2.2k synopsis — how were you to know that a holiday trip to the toy store would lead you not only to a sexy doctor who’s good with kids, but also a real-life angel? warnings — spoiler alert jeonghan is the sexy doctor, mention of alcohol (wine) at the end and reader is implied to be a lil tipsy, one (1) kiss notes — lowercase intended. this is the result of me watching too much "the good doctor" recently gsdkhf. when i first wrote this i wasn't very happy with it but after reading it back i really like it hehe :) hope you enjoy!

one reblog = one heavenly toy store

a bell rings cheerily above your head as you walk into the store.

on the outside, it looks like any other toy store, but the second you open the door you know there’s something special about this place. stepping inside is like stepping into a whole new world. the walls are decorated in colorful murals, shelves, and artwork from kids.

“can i help you find something?” a voice asks.

you turn to see a man wearing an apron, holding a stack of board games under one arm.

“i’m jeonghan,” he smiles. “i own the store.”

you don’t know why, but for some reason you feel the need to introduce yourself. you’ve only just met this man, but you have a sense that he’s… important.

“nice to meet you,” he says, shaking your hand.

you look around. you’ve come in before your shift, so it’s still early; not many people around. “if you own the store… then, who’s angel?” you ask.

“hm? oh!” he laughs. “no, it’s not ‘angel’ like somebody’s name. it’s angel, like, actual angels.”

suddenly the crayon halos on the drawings by the register make a lot more sense. “that’s cute,” you smile. “must bring in a lot of people during christmastime, right?”

“it’s a magical time of year,” he agrees with a wink, “you never know what might happen. so what are you here for? what kind of magic can i get you?”

you pause. “well, i need to get something nice for the little girl i babysit. she’s, um… she’s just gotten out of the hospital,” you say, trying to find the right words to describe the situation. “she’s been through a lot this year.”

your friend’s daughter was diagnosed with a rare type of cancer a year ago, and after months of chemo and many surgeries, she’s finally cancer-free, just in time for the holidays. so of course, this christmas will be extra special, and you can’t disappoint her.

jeonghan nods, lost in thought. “you know, i think she would love this,” he says suddenly, turning down an aisle and waving for you to follow him. “it’s a new item, we haven’t put them out on display yet, but it’d be great for her!”

the way he talks as if he knows the little girl throws you off a little, but you brush it off as him just being passionate about his job.

he pulls out a kit from a large box, clearly waiting to be loaded onto the shelves. it’s a doll set themed like a doctor, complete with little bandages and a stethoscope and everything you could want if you were a child obsessed with

“it’d be perfect for her,” he beams, handing it to you. how he knows it’s perfect, you have no clue, but it does seem like just the thing for her.

“i’ll take it,” you smile, following him to the register.

the next day you’re picking up your morning latte from the coffee shop on your way to work when you spot a familiar head of blond hair waiting at a table near the entrance.

“hey! jeonghan, right?” you ask, and he lifts his head from his book.

his face brightens, and he greets you by your name. “hi, yeah! good morning!”

you motion to the empty seat across from him at the table. “are you waiting for someone?”

“not anymore,” he says, flashing a smile. he slides a colorful bookmark in between the pages of his book, and you notice the scribbled design, clearly made by a child. he sweeps his arm out, motioning for you to sit. “are you rushing off anywhere?”

you pull out the chair and set your bag by your feet. “kind of, but i can spare a few minutes,” you giggle.

you notice his outfit, much more professional than the last time you saw him at the store. “how about you? going somewhere fancy this morning?” you ask with a laugh. “a date, perhaps?”

he laughs. “no, no dates. just work.”

you frown in confusion. “do you– always wear a suit to sell toys? i mean, you look great, but i’m sure the kids don’t care what you wear–”

he laughs at your misunderstanding. “ah, not that work,” he says. “the shop is more of a… side project,” he explains with a chuckle. “the rest of the time i’m a pediatric oncologist. children’s cancer doctor.”

“oh, wow!” your eyes widen. there were a lot of assumptions you’d made about jeonghan in the short time you’d known him, but being a doctor was definitely not one of them. “that’s… wow, that’s impressive. and you run the toy store, too?”

he nods. “the toys in the gift shop at the hospital weren’t very… good for kids,” he says. “so i guess you could say it’s more like a charity thing. every month, i bring a bunch of toys from the store for some of the patients.”

you remember the conversation from yesterday about the gift for your friend’s daughter. you’d called them to make sure it was something she’d enjoy, and it turns out jeonghan couldn’t have been more correct: they said her current dream was to become a doctor, all she’d been doing the last week was scheduling check-ups for stuffed animals and giving flu shots to the family dog.

now, with this new information about the mysterious yet friendly man from the toy store, you can’t help but wonder if he knows your little girl, or maybe even treated her. you make a mental note to ask your friend for the name of their doctor when you see them next, to confirm a suspicion.

“sounds like you’re a busy guy,” you say with a smile.

he shrugs, stirring his latte with a wooden stirrer. “can be tiring sometimes, but it’s good work. i love it, and i love the kids.”

“so you’re a doctor, and you run a charity, and you like kids? what can’t you do?” you grin, taking a sip of your drink.

he laughs, holding up his paper cup. “make coffee.”

“i’m just surprised i haven’t seen you around more often,” you say. “it’s a fairly small town, yet it seems like all of a sudden i’m seeing you everywhere.”

the conversation fizzles out then, and you sit there, taking small sips of your drinks and pretending not to stare at him. he’s got this glow around him, like you can’t take your eyes off him.

you stand and start to turn to walk away, but an instinct makes you stop. like you’re being pulled back to him, like there’s still something you need to say.

you clear your throat. “i, um, i usually get coffee in the mornings before work here. maybe i’ll see you around?”

he looks up, meeting your eyes. “i’m sure i’ll see you again, very soon,” he says with a smile. “but just in case i don’t, here’s my card.”

he hands you a business card, and it seems to shimmer in the light. yoon jeonghan, head angel, it says on one side, with a list of numbers on the back.

he blushes and looks back down at his book, pretending to study the title. “call me if you ever need something. or, uh, just if you want to.”

you grin, shifting your bag higher onto your shoulder and slipping the card into your back pocket. “i’ll do that,” you say with a smile.

the third time you run into jeonghan is in a place you’d least expect an angel to be: the highway.

it’s been a week from hell (metaphorically) at work, and this morning you’d not only forgotten your phone at home, but then your car’s battery died on the way home from your closing shift. you’d just barely been able to make it to the side of the road before it died, forcing you to either wait in your car in the cold, or walk the half mile to the nearest exit to call a tow. you’d opted for the latter.

a shiny white car pulls up next to you, the driver’s side window rolling down to reveal a familiar face. “need some help?”

you look up in shock. “jeonghan? what are you doing here?”

“sweetheart, i should be asking you the same thing,” he laughs. “why are you walking along the highway at eleven o’clock at night?”

“car battery died,” you explain with a sigh.

“i figured,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “now, are you going to let me give you a ride, or not?”

you don’t have to be told twice. your fingers are beginning to freeze, and you would literally rather be anywhere right now than standing on the side of the road waiting for a tow truck.

the heater inside the car is wonderful, and you breathe a sigh of relief, pushing your hands against the vent to feel the warmth.

finally starting to warm up, you glance over at jeonghan, clearly on his way home from work, too. his white dress shirt is pushed up around his elbows, and the first three buttons are hanging undone, revealing pretty pale skin underneath. you have to drag your eyes away from him before you get caught staring at things you shouldn’t.

“doctor work or toy store work today?” you ask for the sake of conversation, even though you already know the answer.

“doctor work,” he confirms with a nod of his head.

“how was it? if-if i’m not prying.”

he pauses. “the usual, i suppose,” he sighs. “good news, bad news, hard decisions.”

he clears his throat. “so where am i dropping you off? house, apartment, boyfriend’s apartment?” he asks hesitantly. “or girlfriend? somebody?”

“just apartment,” you answer with a grin, telling him what you hope he wanted to hear with that question. “it’s just me.”

he looks over at you, his whole face lighting up. the moment is really nice, until you realize, his face is actually lighting up.

“jeonghan! your, um… why is your head glowing?”

his eyes flick back to the road for a second. “no– no reason,” he says, his cheeks turning pink under the light.

you stare at him, dumbfounded.

he sighs. “you don’t believe me.”

you watch his hands, holding tightly to the wheel.

“what’s going on? are you, like, a demon, or something?”

“ouch,” he cringes, glancing over at you. “no, i’m an angel, actually. the halo goes off sometimes when i’m… happy.”

you sit in silence, mouth hanging open as he continues to drive. “well, at least it makes sense now.”

he raises an eyebrow, but his gaze doesn’t move from the road. “so you do believe me.”

“do you wanna stay for dinner?” you ask suddenly. there’s so much you’re dying to know, dying to ask him, dying to figure out what the hell is happening.

the car is dead silent for a few seconds, and you’re starting to think you’ve imagined this whole thing and you’re actually still back in your freezing car, dying of hypothermia. until jeonghan finally speaks, and you know you’re in for an interesting night.

“you like takeout?”

a pepperoni pizza, one bottle of wine, and many, many questions later, you’re laying on your couch, trying to process everything that just happened.

an actual, real-life angel is sitting on the floor of your living room, and not only is he a doctor, and he’s great with kids, but he’s also unfairly hot. and maybe it’s the wine talking and you’re more than a little tipsy, but all of a sudden you really, really want to kiss him.

“jeonghan?” you sit up, reaching out for his hand. “are you allowed to kiss me?” you whisper.

he looks up at you, his eyes searching yours. “if you want me to,” he whispers back.

“you won’t get in trouble with the angel people? or, like, god?”

he chuckles and stands up, moving closer to you. “i might. but it’d be worth it, for you.”

and then his hand is on the back of your neck, pulling you gently towards him, and suddenly you’re kissing him. his lips taste like clouds (what the hell do clouds even taste like?) and his touch is softer than anything you’ve ever felt, the tips of his fingers gently grasping onto your jaw and he leans into you.

you pull away after a while and sigh, the fog in your head beginning to clear.

he’s sitting next to you, watching you in what you can only describe as anxiousness.

“why me?” you ask quietly. “i know you did it on purpose, meeting me all those times. but why?”

he laughs softly and reaches out to touch your cheek, thumb tracing your cheekbone. “i don’t know why. but i’m drawn to you.” he tilts his head to look at you. “i think… i really like you.”

he pauses, bringing your hand up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to your fingers. “i’ll take you on a real date, yeah?” he says. “somewhere nice.”

“it’s a miracle,” you nod, giggling. “i found an angel.”

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[bumblesimagines]

The Sun and Moon

Part 4

Request: Yes or No

Heyyyy hiiii how yall doing...

S/C: Skin color

E/C: Eye color

~~~

The candle provided just enough light to illuminate the page of the book, a warm glow casting on the young man as he read. He had chosen to opt out of attending the Bassets’ ball and instead picked out a book to read in the comfort of his home. The leather rubbed against his fingertips and the writing on the pages kept his attention focused on the book. Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen. Quite the read.

The social season would officially come to a close soon, and many families would be visiting their summer homes; The Granvilles among them. Relief was the only thing the painter felt in regards to the end of the season. No more desperate mamas and their overachieving daughters throwing themselves at him. And perhaps the best of all; no more Whistledown. Of course, the ton always had drama, but it occurred the most during social season. Lady Whistledown couldn’t possibly expect to get anything good out of business deals and screaming babes.

The sound of knocking drew his attention away from the book, brows furrowing. Setting the book down on the nightstand and rising from the bed, the young painter picked up the candle and left his bedchambers. He headed down the stairs and approached the front door, pulling it open. 

“Bridgerton!” My, was he alright? The candle gave off just enough light for (Y/N) to see his flushed nose and puffy eyes. “Anthony.. Are you alright? Come in, please.”

“My sincerest apologies, (Y/N).” Anthony sounded exhausted, movements sluggish and strained as he entered the house. Finding a chair, he collapsed onto it and blankly stared forward. “I did not mean to wake you-”

“I was reading, My Lord. Has something happened?”

“I wish you didn’t have to see me like this.” Anthony gripped the armrests and pushed himself up into a proper sitting position. God, he felt weak. He never allowed himself to be vulnerable infront of others, and yet...

 “But, I..” A sigh escaped the eldest Bridgerton. “I believe I am... heartbroken and utterly confused.”

A Bridgerton heartbroken? Hogs must be flying. Did rakes even have hearts?

“This is silly-”

“No, no, not at all.” (Y/N) dismissed quickly and set the candle on a table, pulling a chair closer to him and taking a seat on the red cushion. 

Heartbreak was no joking matter. He’d seen it on Lady Bridgertons face when she faced the ton after the death of her husband. Her once bright eyes had become void. It had taken months for her to return to her cheerful self. Even then, a part of her was missing. She no longer walked the streets with her husband at her side. Of course, death and rejection weren’t the same thing, but it could certainly feel like it.

“No, it is truly silly of me to come at this hour because- because I was rejected by some woman.” Anthony scoffed at himself and (Y/N) frowned. A part of (Y/N) wanted to focus on the fact Anthony chose to find comfort in his company instead of with his family. Perhaps he felt more comfortable unloading his burdens with him.

“She wasn’t just some woman to you, Anthony. I see it written all over your face. Talk to me.” (Y/N) coaxed softly. Anthony raised his gaze to meet his eyes and felt all the tension in his body dissipate.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about the soprano and I. Despite what they may say about me, I truly cared for her and I- I let the opinion of others sway mine, and when I realized she made me happy..” Anthony trailed off as he remembered her firm yet guilt ridden face.

“She put her happiness over yours, and she had all the right to do so. But it’s completely fine for you to feel heartbroken over it, My Lord. I am certain that one day, you’ll be able to reflect on what happened and do better for your future wife.” (Y/N) reached out and set his hand over Anthonys’ knee, letting his thumb draw circles into the black cloth, the sensation making Anthonys’ limbs slump in his chair.

“I’m sure you’ll feel quite moved by this in the next couple of days, and you’ll feel bitter as well. She will not lie in your arms at night, but rest easy knowing she’ll be with someone who makes her happy and keeps her protected. Love is.. bittersweet like that. Cherish the memories and look forward to making more.” 

“God, how old are you?” Anthony let his hand drop, a small smile stretching on his face. His dark eyes had softened. He truly understood why Benedict was so fond of the painter. “You sound wise beyond your years.” 

A soft laugh left the painter as he leaned back, retracting his hand. Anthonys’ leg twitched at the loss of contact, a twinge of disappointment sparking in the Bridgertons’ chest. But the disappointment vanished as he finally allowed himself to take in the man across from him.

(Y/N)s’ white shirt had been unbuttoned, showing his collarbone and the top of his (S/C) chest. His typically neat and tidy locks were now scattered and messy, yet Anthony couldn’t find the look distasteful. In fact, (Y/N) looked quite in his element. The slightest hint of sleepiness sparked in his (E/C) eyes and Anthony felt the overwhelming urge to hold him in his arms until he drifted to sleep. 

“What are you confused about, My Lord?”

“Pardon?”

“You said you were heartbroken and confused.” (Y/N) reminded him, propping his arm on the armrest and leaning on his side. With a tilt of his head, Anthony felt his throat tighten. 

“Uhm.. I..” Anthony began, the tips of his ears burning. Was he... embarrassed? Flustered? “I’ve been thinking..”

“Anthony Bridgerton actually using his brain? My, what a find.” The teasing words resulted in a soft scoff and chuckle. 

“You’ve been spending too much time around Benedict.” Anthony muttered playfully and straightened his back, pushing himself back until he was sitting in the chair properly. 

Clearing his throat, his lips parted to continue but the words refused to come out. Anthony let his tongue swipe over his lips and he dug his fingers into the fine detail of the armrest. Gulping down his nerves and fears, he finally spoke again. 

“Hypothetically,” The word caused (Y/N)s’ brow to quirk upward, an amused smile beginning to tug at his lips. “If I were to harbor feelings for... for a man, it would be sinful, right?”

“Certainly not!” The spat made Anthony flinch, eyes widening and shoulders stiffening. Too shocked to retort, he remained silent as the young man continued.

“Love is the purest thing one can feel. It is the very thing that keeps some alive. Yes, this form of love is frowned upon by a society that only hates... But it is not sinful nor wrong. You do not fall in love with a body, you fall in love with the soul, regardless of status or gender. Painting love as a curse is what causes misery, hatred, and- and death.” (Y/N) spoke passionately and Anthony listened to his every word, letting it soak in as if he were listening to a lecture at school. 

His parents were traditional; daughters had to be prim and proper, sons could do whatever they wanted, marriage happened between a man and a woman. But as he listened to the young man, he could only rethink his values and upbringing. He’d always been taught to be kind and open-minded, even to those beneath him.

“So,” (Y/N) exhaled and cleared his throat. “No, it is not sinful.”

“You speak quite passionately about it.” Anthony breathed and he could see a sheepish look pass over the painters face. Not many would dare to raise their voice at Anthony Bridgerton.

“Well, I believe judging people without first trying to understand them is.. It’s not right.” (Y/N) spoke, this time more softly and quietly, as if trying to make up for his outburst. Pressing his lips together, he rose and motioned towards the door. Whilst he didn’t wish to kick him out so suddenly, it was late and if his father saw any sign of the Viscount at his home, he’d surely get an hour long lecture.

“I’m sure the party ended a while ago. Your family may worry.” His words made Anthony nod and rise from the chair. He certainly didn’t want to overstay his welcome.

“Apologies for the unexpected visit, Mr. Granville. I’ll be seeing you around.” Anthony gave another curt nod and stepped outside, disappearing into the dark night. 

Releasing the air from his lungs, (Y/N) shut the door and rested his head against it, eyes squeezing shut. He gripped the doorknob tightly, leaning his weight into it as he processed the nights brief events. Anthony Bridgerton had confided in him and only mere moments later, (Y/N) had lectured him. 

“So foolish of me.” He whispered softly and pushed himself away from the door, returning to the chair and collapsing on it as Anthony had. 

Benedict was someone (Y/N) knew he could put all his trust in, and while Anthony was a trustworthy man, he was traditional. Anxiety clawed at (Y/N)s’ stomach like a feral cat and he bit down on his bottom lip, gnawing at it until he felt wetness. The taste of metallic made him inhale sharply and he shook his head in an attempt to push away his thoughts. 

“Lord Bridgerton is a good man,” (Y/N) spoke softly and nodded to himself. “He wouldn’t do anything to cause someone else harm.” 

                 ꕤ         ꕤ       ꕤ       ꕤ       ꕤ       ꕤ

The start of the new social season had come sooner than expected. (Y/N) had spent the last months like he usually did; perfecting his technique and keeping his bed warm with company of all sorts. Though there was a new addition to his routine. 

Benedict Bridgerton.

The two had spent their summer exchanging letters filled with all sorts of things. From Benedict keeping him updated on his family to him boasting about his improving talent. Never a dull moment with Benedict. (Y/N) could confidently say he had a new best friend.

“Dearest, are you listening?” 

“Of course, mama.” The young painter turned away from the scenery and smiled at his mother. The two swayed along with the carriage though it did nothing to pry his mothers’ eyes away from the pamphlet in hand.

“Right. As I was saying,” She continued. “With Miss Eloise Bridgerton officially joining the social season, perhaps you could-”

“Mother! She is the sister of my dearest friend! Benedict would have my head.” (Y/N) scoffed at the idea of marrying Eloise. He liked the girl, of course, but not enough to court her. It felt... wrong to even think about it. He enjoyed her company, even with her snarky comments, and if he was honest; she was more like a sister than a friend. 

“Is the idea that absurd? You spent so much time with them. I was merely making a suggestion, no need to be so defensive.”

(Y/N) exhaled softly. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice like that.” 

“I know, dearest.” Lucy smiled warmly at her son. The apple of her eye, the light of her light, her greatest creation.. Like any mother, she could never truly get mad at her child. (Y/N) had proven to be the best son one could ask for. With softened eyes, Lucy carefully moved across the carriage and took a seat beside her toon, resting the strip of paper on her lap.

“I would never rush you, darling.” Lucy spoke softly and gently, as she did when she soothed (Y/N) in his younger years. “However, like any other mother of the ton, I wish to have grandchildren to dote on.”

“Yes, I know, mama.”

“Will you give this season a chance?” Lucy asked and tilted her head, resting a gloved hand over her sons’. (Y/N) sighed and after a beat of silence, he nodded, watching a wide smile spread on his mothers face. 

“Thank you, darling.” She cooed softly. “Perhaps you and Lord Bridgerton can work together to secure this seasons best ladies.”

Ah, yes, the news that had every mama in the ton buzzing. Anthony had finally decided to join the social season as an eligible bachelor. This time, instead of attending events to watch his sister, he’d be joining in search of his other half. The thought alone made (Y/N) smirk. There would likely be a repeat of last season; men would flock to whomever Anthony set his sights upon. It’d certainly be amusing to watch.

“Have you heard? He’s been interviewing ladies!” (Y/N) laughed as he spoke, leaning back into the soft cushions and raising a hand to his mouth. His mothers lip twitched into an amused smile but she gently smacked his leg.

“Don’t make fun of a Bridgerton, (Y/N).” 

“Oh, please. It’s my favorite pastime.” Looking away from his mother and at the Bridgerton residence as the carriage came to a stop, (Y/N) cleared his throat and smiled. He gave his mothers’ hand a squeeze and slipped out of the carriage, moving through the gates and up the stairs. (Y/N) only had to knock twice before a servant opened the door.

“(Y/N)!” A familiar squeal reached his ears and Hyacinth raced into his arms, ignoring her mothers’ protests on her unladylike behavior. With a sheepish smile and flushed cheeks, Violet gently tore her daughter away from the painter. 

“Apologies, (Y/N).” She breathed. “How have you been, darling?”

“I’ve been well, Lady Bridgerton. Is Benedict home?”

“I’m afraid not, but Anthony is in his office.” Violet pushed a frizzy curl away from her freckled face. (Y/N) smiled and nodded, patting Hyacinths shoulder and making his way toward the office. 

Ever since the fateful night, (Y/N) and Anthony hadn’t had much time alone. (Y/N) hoped to changed that in the coming days. He valued Anthonys friendship just as much as he valued Benedicts. 

Gently knocking on the door, he waited until he heard a muffled ‘come in’ before pushing the door open. Anthony sat at his desk, sleeves rolled up and coat discarded on a nearby chair. He looked exhausted, no doubt using all his time to work and see the ladies of the ton.

“What do you need?” His voice held a sharpness to it.

“That’s no way to speak to a friend, My Lord.” Anthonys’ head snapped up from the paperwork before him, eyes widening in the slightest at the sight of (Y/N). The painter shut the door behind him and took slow steps toward the Bridgerton, craning his neck to look at the papers. 

“Apologies.” Anthony breathed and set his quill down, rising from his seat and clearing his throat. He ran his fingers through his hair, combing it and fixing his shirt. He hoped he looked presentable, but by the concerned look in (Y/N)s’ eyes, he knew he looked tired.

“Did you need something? Benedict is-”

“Not home, yes, I know. Your mother told me.” (Y/N) offered him one of his soft smiles; the type of smile that put Anthony at ease and made him want to spill all his secrets and doubts. It was a dangerous smile, just as dangerous as (Y/N)s’ mischievous smirks. 

“Have any ladies caught your interest? I promise I won’t steal her from you if you tell me, My Lord.” He teased lightly and Anthony let himself fully relax. Sitting back down, Anthony allowed himself to take a break.

“No.” He answered and sighed. “All of them- Each and every single one I’ve met... They’re all eager to please. None of them have a single opinion on something that cannot be swayed. It’s almost.. Infuriating.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s what they’ve been taught by their mamas.” 

“Yes, I know. But I won’t just be marrying anyone. I’ll be marrying the woman who will become Viscountess. She needs to be perfect.” 

Rising from his seat, (Y/N) chuckled and shook his head. “Nobody’s perfect.” He reminded him softly and walked around the desk, stopping behind Anthonys’ chair and resting his hands on Anthonys’ shoulders. 

The contact made Anthonys’ throat tightened and he immediately tensed, a soft giggle coming from above him. Anthony could feel a hot wave wash over his body and there was no doubt his face had turned a shade of red. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and when (Y/N) applied pressure, he couldn’t help the whimper that escaped him. 

“Perhaps,” Dropping his tone into a breathy, soft one, (Y/N) spoke, “If you relaxed, you’d be able to think clearly.”

Anthony almost laughed at that. Think clearly? Anthony could never do that with (Y/N) around. His scent, his smile, his voice. They plagued his mind. Every time the painter came around, he yearned for his attention. He wanted to be the one making him smile and laugh, to be the one (Y/N) wanted. 

A soft sigh left Anthony as (Y/N) gently massaged his shoulders, his body relaxing automatically. Had he truly gone that long without a break? When he peered up at (Y/N), he softened his gaze. (Y/N) gave him a sweet smile, one that made Anthonys’ heart want to leap out of his chest.

“You’re dangerous.” Anthony whispered without thinking.

“Oh?” A laugh left him and he paused the movement of his fingers as his shoulders shook. Anthony practically beamed at the sound of his laughter and he knew deep down that nobody should have that big of an effect on him. 

“I’ve been called many things,” Raising a hand to wipe away a tear, (Y/N) shifted to lean against the desk, careful not to move any papers. “But I’ve never been called dangerous, My Lord.”

“That aside...” Inhaling deeply, (Y/N) reached out and gently gripped Anthonys’ chin. The act was gentle yet firm and Anthonys’ chest twisting in all sorts of ways. “You need to take care of yourself, Anthony.” 

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“I’m aware I sometimes push myself too hard, but that is the burden I have to carry. My family needs me and-” Anthony cut himself off when (Y/N) dropped his hand from his chin, a frown pulling at the painters lips. It didn’t suit him. 

“You wouldn’t understand.” Anthony muttered and looked back at the paperwork before him. His burden, he always reminded himself. He carried it so his loved ones wouldn’t have to. 

“I’m my parents only child, Anthony. I know a thing or two-”

“But your father wasn’t the firstborn.” Anthony interrupted and scooted his chair forward, resting his arms at the edge of the desk and picking up his quill again. 

“As much as I enjoy your company, Mr. Granville, I’m afraid I must get back to work.” He didn’t intend for his tone to be so cold but the damage had been done. (Y/N) silently nodded and gave Anthonys’ shoulder one last squeeze, his footsteps echoing as he left the office.

[purplebass]

That's What Candles Do / Thomastair

So here I am with a Thomastair Christmas drabble. Today I also wanted to be short and to the point and write something fluffy and cute to celebrate this season. More may follow, but tomorrow (because right now I'm tired lol). So enjoy <3

Rating: G Words: 489 Read on A03 💜

“Where did you say Cordelia got this candle?” Thomas wondered, a mixture of pine and something else – maybe cinnamon – hitting his nostrils after the wick started to burn. 

“Amsterdam, I think,” Alastair scrunched his nose. “I am not sure I like this smell.”

“It’s bittersweet,” he admitted. “But it’s growing on me. Perhaps it will grow on you too.”

Alastair shrugged from his armchair, and glanced at the cream colored scented candle sitting on the wooden table that separated him from Thomas’ armchair. 

“Perhaps,” he said. “At least I remembered to light it. Last time Cordelia was here, she ordered me to use this damn candle around this time. She said this is the scent of Christmas, but I beg to differ.”

“Did she?” Thomas chuckled. At that, Alastair rolled his eyes. “Well, it is a gift. Of course, she wants you to use it. Gifts are not meant to be sitting on the mantle and gathering dust.”

“We’re talking about a candle, Tom,” he raised an eyebrow. “That’s what candles do.”

Thomas sighed. “Yes, but this is a scented candle. Keyword being scented. It’s meant to spread its fragrance throughout its surroundings. Look at the soft atmosphere it gives this room,” he gestured at the walls with his hand. “Isn’t the perfect Christmas setting?”

“It just makes it impossible for me to enjoy the newspaper with such bad lightning,” he complained, putting the paper aside.

Thomas shook his head and stood up, something caught his attention behind the window. 

“It’s snowing.”

“Is it, now? Must’ve been the power of the candle,” he joked.

“Come here to see,” Thomas demanded. “It’s picking up. It’s the first real snow of the season.”

Alastair rose from his chair and reached his partner. “You were not exaggerating,” he commented. “That’s really a lot of snow. Just in time for Christmas.”

“I thought you didn’t care about Christmas,” Thomas retorted. 

“Why would I have put some mistletoe above the window, if I didn’t?”

Thomas frowned, and looked up. “When did you put this here? I didn’t see it.”

“This morning when you were away with your father,” he confessed. “And you can blame the candle and the bad lightning for your poor sight.” 

“Would you please leave the poor candle alone?” 

Alastair giggled, putting one of his hands behind Thomas’ back. “Only if you give me a kiss. We’re under the mistletoe, after all. And there’s this hint of winter in the air thanks to the candle. The snow is falling outside our window. And I’m in your arms.”

“I’ll give you more than one kiss,” he leaned closer, one hand resting behind Alastair’s neck, the other on his hip. “I have to make up for my bad sight.”

“Shut up, Thomas,” Alastair said playfully, just as the grandfather clock on the wall struck midnight. “And Merry Christmas.” He dragged him by the lapels of his jacket and kissed him.

Merry Christmas, indeed. 

***

Notes: I don't know why but I feel like Cordelia would be the type to gift a scented candle??? In my mind, she got that candle in Amsterdam during her travel year with James. She wanted to contribute to Alastair and Thomas' house with something they could put on the mantle or use (because candles are soothing and give the right atmosphere). Alastair probably thinks candles are overrated because of electricity, but they are still useful.

[teacasket]

sweater weather

genre: fluff au: non-idol au warnings: none word count: 0.6k   pairing: f!reader x yang jeongin

There are two things that people get wrong about your family: one, because you’re a woman, you must be the fashionable one of the parents so two, you must also be the one that picks out the matching outfits. In actuality, you don’t really care. Until you met Jeongin in college, you dressed yourself in a vaguely trendy way. Maybe a little outdated, but nobody would ever think twice if they saw you on the streets. Nowadays, nearly everyone does a double-take. A trio of extremely fashionable people is intimidating, but a family? A family makes strangers give out compliments, ask where you got that cute skirt from, and take discreet photos for #inspo or something. Let’s face it, you’re probably on someone’s Pinterest board because according to Jeongin, a weekend outing to the park and then the market calls for a tailored suit jacket for him, a pair of vintage boots for you, a beret for your five-year-old daughter, and a bowtie for the dog.

“I win,” you laugh as your daughter thrusts a limp beret into your husband’s hands before running after the dog. “It hasn’t even been twenty minutes yet.”

“One of these days, she’ll appreciate it,” he sighs. “She’ll be voted ‘best dressed’ in the yearbook and remember that it was all because of me.”

At the very moment, your daughter unceremoniously drops her little purse onto the ground to follow a squirrel. “Keep dreaming, love. She takes after her mom.”

He takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips to kiss it. You feel his sigh on your skin as he watches her kneel on the ground in her new olive-colored overalls. “She does. In the best and worst ways. Next time, you choose and I’ll do her hair?”

“What hairstyle do you think goes best with hoodies and jeans?” you muse while trying not to laugh at the horrified expression on his face. “Oh, c’mon. You wear them all the time. Plus, I’ve seen you wear cargo shorts before, and those are objectively worse.”

“I was fifteen and dumb. Plus,” he says, mimicking your tone, “your idea of hoodies and jeans is…”

“Extremely fashion forward.” 

He groans, but there’s a whisper of a grin in his frown. You know he’s thinking about how you showed up to your first date dressed in that. In your defense, all he told you was to ‘wear something comfortable.’ “Anything else.”

“You’re not allowed to complain or veto.”

The horror of a regular outfit in mind, he forgets the other options available and readily agrees to your deal. Of course, during the next weekend outing, he’s all complaints and vetos when he sees you bringing down a familiar box from the top shelf of the closet. DAD’S KNITTING STUFF is the home and cemetery to Jeongin’s attempts of knitting matching sweaters. They’re not necessarily bad; they’re just a little amateurish compared to what seasoned grandmas can do.

“Don’t do this to me,” he pleads.

“You put in all this hard work! You should at least show it off.”

“I should have burned these.”

You ignore his remarks. “This is mine,” you say as you pull out a red one on the top of the pile, “and this green one is yours. These two are definitely for the kid. So small! I swear I remember you looking up how to make dog sweaters…”

Despite his lamentation, in the end, the Yang family wears their Jeongin-made sweaters with pride and in your case, a smugness that can only be achieved through beating someone at their own game. #inspo

[epickiya722]

Langa & Reki, please, for the ask game...

I'm just gonna answer these two characters together! 🌈❄

My first impression: Thought those two were the cutest. Saw Reki's skate against Shadow and thought "Oh, he has heart. I'm gonna like that one." Shadow did him so dirty though!! With Langa, I just thought he looked like he would be a quiet one.

My impression now: I definitely adore them both. Reki is my favorite character and Langa follows after.

Favorite thing about that character: Besides their personalities, I like their aesthetics. Reki's style is really colorful and I'm a sucker for colors. His hoodies are too cute and I love that his headband's expressions will match his. Langa's ice theme, I like that! Especially since it leans more on the blues and there's some black thrown in there. It matches how they are. I love that while Reki is a bit on the fiery side, his character isn't heavy with the fire/sun symbolism. Instead, it's the rainbow and hibiscus. With Langa, he's ice themed, but he isn't a cold person. He's "cool" to others, he's calm.

Least favorite thing: They made me so frustrated during their whole falling out. I hate that Reki can be so self-deprecating sometimes and I wanted to shake Langa for wanting to still skate against Adam.

Favorite line/scene: Hard to choose when it comes to these two. They have so many great scenes together. To choose I have to go with when they finally make back up and decide to add the Infinity symbol to their handshake. That was too cute! But I also like their scene where Reki pretends to be in distress and Langa is like "Don't worry, bae. I'll protect you."

Favorite interaction that character has with another: Other than with each other, I adore how they interact with the rest of the SK8 squad. Especially with Miya. To choose an interaction, I gotta go with the scene after Reki's rematch with Adam and they just pile on him to make sure he's okay and he's smiling and laughing. Love that.

A character that I wish that character would interact with more: Ooh, so many options here actually. To pick... okay, I would like to see more of Reki and Langa's time working with Oda. Like, how does Oda deal with those two when they're working at the skate shop. I'm sure they get into a lot of shenanigans. 😆

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character: I actually made a post about this for Reki! He and Yuji from Jujutsu Kaisen are like the same person, but in different genres. Hoodie wearing redheads, bright smiles, and have recognized skill that makes amazes others when they do show off those skills, yet often underestimated. Langa reminds me of Shoto Todoroki, especially after the Sports Festival. Ice people who aren't actually cold, love their mamas, talented pretty boys, and have a signature food they like.

A headcanon about that character: Okay, I ended up writing a whole series about this one! I headcanon that Reki likes to let Koyomi paint his nails from time to time. He likes colors and he doesn't mind Koyomi using him for practice. It's also nice to spend quality time with his sister and see her do something she likes. Sometimes, he'll even ask her to paint his nails blue to match Langa, who likes the idea of Reki wearing his color.

A song that reminds of that character: Shawn Wasabi's Animal Crossing. It's such a cute song! And of course, Infinity by Yuuri will always be their song. I can't think of a Langa song, but for Reki, Alessia Cara's My Kind comes to mind.

An unpopular opinion about that character: I actually didn't feel "queerbaited" at the end of the first season. Some people threw out "queerbait" because we didn't see LanReki kiss. Kiss? I was gonna ship them regardless of the ending. We at least were left to interpretation if their relationship is platonic or romantic. I don't think a ship should always be confirmed through a kiss because kissing isn't the only thing romantic couples do. They hold hands, call each other nicknames, hug, tells the other person that they make them happy, etc. Kissing isn't the only gesture used to say "I love you".

Favorite picture: There's so many of these two that I can look at all day, but to choose I'm going with these two since I have used them for edits before.

Send Me a Character...✨️

[medusas-daughter]

Hotd, episode 9 "the green council"

So many thoughts

First of all I had chills the entire episode. As team black I went in fully expecting to hate it and boy was I wrong. This episode is a masterpiece.

- How many people exactly is Crispin allowed to kill before he suffers consequences?

- Lord Commander Harrold Westerling showing us what true honor is. And honestly, he might as well have removed his cloak, nobody respects his authority, they allowed his knight to draw a sword on him. They don't deserve him.

-I can't believe I'm about to say this, and it is the last time I ever will, but they should have given Aegon what he wanted. Man wanted to disappear, let him. "I'm not suited" if anything, he's self aware.

- Crispin's "women are the image of mother and should be spoken of with reverence" like he wasn't calling Rhaenyra a cunt like 3 weeks ago is peak comedy.

- I did not expect Aemond to explicitly admit he wanted to the crown, and I wonder what kind of king he would have been. Also, this is for me the big difference between team green and team black. Team black love each other unconditionally and fully support one another even behind closed doors. Team Green barely like each other.

- Did Princess Rhaenys just serve us the best line of this entire season "you wish not to be free but to build a window in your prison". Rhaenys just called Alicent a pick me, and I stan.

- I was wrong, the best line goes to Mysaria with "there is no power but what the people allow you to take".

- Ser Erryk said "nope, imma sit this one out, not worth my sweat" and I respect that.

-Alicent finally standing up to her father is slightly satisfying, but it's too little too late, barely registers.

- Aegon being given Blackfyre to carry when he can't even swing a sword is such a waste.

- Larys having a foot fetish is not even 1% surprising.

- "do you love me?" "you imbecile" is the funniest line of this episode.

- Helaena hiding her face in Aemond's shoulder after Aegon was crowned does things to me. Aemond seems to be the only she's comforted by. And the fear in her face when Aegon looked at her, she knows what kind of king he will be.

- speaking of, Alicent, if you wanted your son not to rule with cruelty, you should have taught him that years ago. Slapping him and telling him again and again that he is a challenge simply by breathing and existing. And then expecting him to let his challenger keep breathing? Of course he's not gonna let Rhaenyra live.

- Rhaenys escaping on Meleys wearing full armor was so powerful and satisfying, and Meleys is so beautiful and Rhaenys's armor fitting Meleys's colors, I just love them both so much. But besides the visuals and the bad bitch moment, I'm not actually sure how I feel about this scene, because Rhaenys could have stopped the entire dance with one fire breath. One Dracarys and team black would have been safe. There were no children there, only traitors. She could have taken out all of team green and ended the dance before it began.

- Ewan Mitchell is getting a lot of (well deserved) praise for his portrayal of Aemond. But I would like to take a moment to praise Tom Glynn-Carney as Aegon. He managed to bring a depth and dimension to such a disgusting and icky character and the shift in his eyes when people started cheering for him. The despair when he was begging Aemond to let him disappear. The insecurity when he asked Alicent if she loved him. He played him marvelously.

- Olivia Cooke proved once again how good of an actress she is. Zero notes, 10/10. The resignated disgust during the scene with Larys. The conflict when they discussed murdering Rhaenyra. The fear when Meleys threatened her children. Impeccable.

- Finally, give Ramin Djawadi all of the awards, all of them. My expectations for the soundtrack were already so high after game of thrones, and he still exceeded them.

I will be back with more thoughts when I'm done processing

[kotlc-deleted-scenes]

Keeper Summer Week #8

Fifth Deleted Scene from Neverseen

I love this scene. But I still decided to cut it because the early draft of Neverseen had way too many Calla moments. She's an amazing character, but I was still letting her slow the momentum of the story. So, I found other spots to work in any necessary information provided by this conversation and chopped the rest.

—Shannon

Dawn turned Alluveterre into another world. Everywhere Sophie turned, she found color and life and wonder. The trees bloomed with fresh leaves and ruffled flowers. Shimmering fish with scales as bright as gemstones leaped in and out of the river. Gorgeous birds flitted among the trees or perched among the branches. Her favorites were parrot size, with deep black feathers and vivid yellow feather-Mohawks. 

Sophie made eye contact with one, stunned at the bird's long eyelashes. She was even more stunned when it opened its beak and let out an earthshaking ROAR! 

Lions would've run in fear from the sound, and Sophie wondered if she'd imagined it. Until the bird batted its eyelashes and ROARed again. 

"Boobries," a voice said behind her.

She spun to find Calla standing among the trees. Her dress had been woven from tiny flowers, and she had the same buds twisted into her plaited hair. 

"What did you say?" Sophie asked. 

Calla pointed to the roaring birds. "Boobries. I'm sure your friend Keefe would have a plethora of jokes to make about their name." 

Sophie smiled. "Yes, he would." 

Calla held out her arm and made a series of soft clicks. The boobrie that had roared batted its eyelashes again and swooped to land on Calla's wrist. The tiny gnome stroked its long tail feathers, which were the same vibrant yellow as the Mohawk on the boobrie's head. And when the sunlight hit its body, Sophie could see an iridescent tint, like slicked oil. 

"How is he doing?" Calla asked, and at first Sophie thought she meant the boobrie. 

"Hopefully better today. But we'll see." She bit her lip, afraid to ask her next question. "Have you heard anything from Lur and Mitya?" 

"Unfortunately, no. But they warned the Collective that there's been increased ogre activity in the area, and that is slowing their search."

Sophie tried to convince herself that no news was good news, but she honestly wasn't sure what "good news" even was. 

Calla flicked her wrist, launching the boobrie back to its branch. "You're up early." 

"So are you." 

"I'm always up at this time. I take my ten minutes during the warmth of midday." 

"Is that really all you sleep?" Sophie felt tired just imagining it.

"Well, it used to be twenty, but I need every minute I can get. Without Sior—and Gora and Yuri—there is a lot to keep up with." 

"Do you need any help?" Sophie offered. 

"You're very kind, but it's the type of work only a gnome can do. It'd be nice to have some company, though." 

Sophie followed Calla as she darted off the path, into the trees. The forest turned wild—an obstacle course of drooping vines and branches and roots that seemed determined to throw off Sophie's balance. Calla wove through effortlessly, not cracking a twig or knocking a single leaf.

"Where are we going?" Sophie asked.

"To pick up where I left off yesterday." 

Several minutes later they reached a copse of trees that seemed duller somehow. Fewer leaves on the branches. No flowers. No birds. 

Calla pressed her palm against one of the trunks. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, running her hand down the crumbling bark. "I haven't forgotten you." 

Sophie realized Calla was talking to the tree. 

She whispered promises and apologies before she started to sing. It was a happy song, about the shifting seasons and the tireless sunlight that never strays too far away. Calla's voice felt heavy in Sophie's ears, like it could sink straight into the ground. And maybe it did, because the tree bloomed with new flowers and sprouted new leaves. 

"Amazing," Sophie breathed. "Is this why gnomes can grow plants that no one else can?" 

"Our songs are part of it, yes. But it is mostly our listening. Plants always tell you what they need. They do not put on brave faces, or make pretenses. That's why this plague has been so baffling. The trees at Wildwood have said nothing, and their silence forced the Colony to flee." 

"Are the trees infected too?" Sophie asked. 

"Anything that harms us also harms the forest. Listening is how we maintain our health. Nature tells us what we need, and we obey—and give." She pressed her palm against another tree and started singing again, this time a song about gentle rain. 

It should've been calming—Sophie even could've sworn she felt the drops on her skin—but she was too distracted by her new worry. 

"If the trees in Wildwood are silent, does that mean the plague has no cure?" 

“That is what many fear," Calla whispered.

[violet-stormbringer]

Chapter Twelve: Engagement Season.

Engagement season at Gallatin was as much of a performance as the rest of the year. In the growing warmth of summer, people started pairing off. Whispers followed prominent couples, the rumor mill was churning, and heated trysts and arguments were staged in dark corridors. For many final-year students, this, not an exam mark, was the culmination of their work at Gallatin. 

Delacroix and Max were inseparable, though Ras wasn’t sure how formal their arrangement was to be. She did know, however, that Hartmann and Freddie were to be engaged, with Hartmann being most preoccupied.

As for Ras, now that she didn’t have to worry about her Mother breathing down her neck, she had her sights set on only one woman.

Westerlind aristocratic tradition allowed for marriages of love, provided they fell in love with the right person, though marriages of convenience and financial security were more common that some liked to admit. Ras has, of course, professed more-than-friendly feelings toward the Princess Rosario, and from snippets of gossip she heard around her when nobody thought she was listening…Rosario was thinking of her.

Not that there was any doubt she’d ask Rosario, of course. Whipping out her best pen, as well as her best quality stationary, Ras penned a letter to Rosario, expressing a wish to see her before the end of the week.

She got a reply within hours, penned by Rosario expressing much the same. She then went on to say that she arranged dinner at the Eminence Hotel in Gallatin Town.

When it was time for dinner, Ras had decided to wear the same outfit she’d worn during the Winter Ball. She’d spent so much of her Mother’s money on it, after all, might as well. So she unearthed it from her wardrobe and donned it, admiring herself.

The crimson-colored brocade smoking jacket with white culottes, missing it’s left sleeve. In place of said sleeve was a capelet, matching in color to the jacket, upon which the Thorne Family sigil had been emblazoned and displayed proudly.

When she arrived at the hotel, the maître d' greeted her by name, ushering her to the restaurant. Lit with a glittering chandelier, each table was set with elaborate candles. Centuries-paintings of Westerlind landscapes hung on the walls atop intricately patterned wallpaper.

Rosario was already at the table; she was wearing a dark purple gown, embroidered with gold, and a diamond necklace. A gold-leafed box of chocolates sat on the table. Rosario picked them up as she jumped to her feet at the sight of Ras, and for an awkward moment neither of them were sure where to put their hands. Rosario laughed, kissing Ras’ cheek before inviting her to sit. She called the waiter over with expensive juice for the table, then settled down.

The candlelight shimmered on the golden sheen on Rosario’s cheekbones as she leaned forward. “I can’t believe it’s almost graduation!” she says as the appetizers arrive. “I heard about your plans—I’m going back to Zaledo afterward, obviously. I think I’ll miss Westerlin.”

The pair made their way through exquisite foods with much butter, and Rosario haphazardly wiped her fingers on her napkin.

Soon, it was time for the main course. It arrived: beef so tender it melted in their mouths, paired with a red wine sauce, as well as more delicious expensive juices from crystal glasses. Together, they discussed their plans for graduation and beyond; Rosario was keen to talk about what she was going to do back home, and whether she’ll manage to have fun when she’s there.

While the waiter cleared away the plates from the main course, Rosario chattered away brightly and waited for dessert. It turned out to be chocolate soufflé, and with Ras’ plate, the waiter brought her a small box. Rosario bounced in her seat. “Open it. Open it!” she exclaimed.

Ras chuckled, taking her time and opening the box at an agonizingly slow pace, growing more and more amused at Rosario’s groans of impatience. Just as Rosario looked about ready to throw manners out the window and open it herself, Ras pulled the top off the box once the wrapping had been painfully removed. Inside was a simple crimson colored band with a green diamond inlaid in the center. Ras looked up to see Rosario’s beaming grin.

“My parents said it was all right,” she said. “It would have to be a long engagement, of course, but they agreed! Can you believe it?”

Ras chuckled. “Rosario, did you actually expect anything less? I managed to charm Ibarra on the first meeting, after all, your fathers were easy~”

Rosario giggled. “You are not helping your case when it comes to how dangerous you truly are.”

“What can I say? I’m a Thorne, it’s what we do.”

“So, does that mean…?” Rosario’s gaze was expectant.

“Obviously. Yes, Rosario. A thousand times yes.” 

Rosario clapped in delight. The string quartet in the corner began to play the Zaledoan national anthem, and Rosario almost knocked her dessert over as she clasped Ras’ hand.

Everybody was watching them now, but Ras was used to this by now. Rosario didn’t seem to notice the onlookers either. Instead, she was absorbed with Ras.

“I didn’t know whether you’d say yes…” she started, “but by the gods I’m so glad you did.”

Her elbow knocked at her soufflé, and she yelped. 

“Ah!” She said. “We should finish these before they sink. They’re meant to be something of a delicacy!”

The soufflé was delicious, and Rosario finished hers with relish, talking little but taking in Ras as though in awe. When the waiter cleared away the plates, there was no question of a check; a royal must rarely need to pay for anything.

Rosario took Ras’ hand, smiling. “Can I interest you in staying here for the night? I don’t mean to pressure you. But I’d enjoy it, if you would.”

Following Rosario up the vast, plush stairs and opulently lit corridors, Ras found herself in a suite of rooms larger than the top floor of the Clemency Building. A piano stood in one corner; a bronze sculpture of a plant stood beside the window; the four-poster bed was half Ras’ height.

Rosario put her arms around Ras’ waist, drawing her toward the bed. She sat so that the other was between her legs, then started to slide her dress down. Her thighs were warm on either side of Ras’ hips; she tensed a little, then shivered.

“What would you like to do…?” she murmured with a bashful smile.

Ras wasted no time in taking the lead, grasping Rosario’s chin and tilting it upwards so that the other could stare into her eyes. 

“Princess Rosario, I have a confession to make.” Her voice was quiet, calm, and smooth; dripping with lust laden honey.

Rosario’s breath hitched as she replied. “Yes, my love?”

“I’m actually…” Ras then opened her mouth, and her tongue snaked outwards, a long and thick tendril of pink, thinning and forked at the end as it pressed against Rosario’s cheek, licking along her jaw before stopping at her lips. She leaned in, whispering as her tongue retreated. “...a dragon, masquerading as a knight.”

Her breath was hot against Rosario’s face, causing the other to shudder as tingles were sent down her spine.

“Take me, then, ser dragon…” Rosario murmured, turning so she caught Ras’ lips and pressed her own against them in a kiss.

Given permission, Ras did not need much more prompting. During the kiss, Ras’ tongue snaked out from within her mouth and made it’s way into Rosario’s, wrapping around her tongue with expert precision as Rosario wrapped her arms around Ras’ shoulders.

Without breaking apart, the pair of them fell onto the bad proper, with Ras towering above Rosario as her tongue extricated itself before pushing further inwards and making it’s way down the throat of the Princess.

Rosario’s moans were muffled as Ras’ tongue began to pull away from within her throat, retreating back into Ras’ mouth, allowing them to break the kiss with Rosario staring into Ras’ eyes, breathing heavily.

“S-Sorry, was that…” Ras looked away, “...too much?”

Rosario shook her head, moving Ras’ head to face her once again and kissing her gently this time. “It was perfect, love. I’d love to see what more you can do with that, though…”

Ras was all too eager to show her, spending the rest of that night going over every inch of her exposed flesh with agonizingly slow precision. Each time Rosario tried to rush her, she simply ceased her minstrations, staring up at her with a fierce look that demanded patience.

Rosario’s gasps and moans were music to Ras, each time her pitch shifted and her volume increased ever signs for her to continue what she was doing. 

As Ras finally made her way between Rosario’s thighs, her hands tangled in her hair, pushing her against Rosario as her tongue ran across each fold and flicked at her most sensitive parts. 

When it came time for Ras’ tongue to enter Rosario, penetrating the folds and going as deep as it could, she couldn’t contain herself anymore and wrapped her legs around her lover, grip tightening in her hair as she pushed her even further.

When it was over, she pulled away, and Rosario stared up at her, her breathing heavy and laden with satisfaction. She pulled Ras to lay beside her, and the two shared a kiss once more, with Rosario savoring the taste of herself on the lips and tongue of her lover.

They surrendered to the sensation of the kiss, though it wasn’t long before they drifted off into sleep.

That morning, Ras woke to see Rosario looking far more cheerful than she had any right to be after the long evening they shared. “Good morning, Ras,” she said. “Breakfast?”

Ras was in awe of Rosario, for even her own muscles ached. She wasn’t going to say no to breakfast, however.

It was a delicious prospect, especially compared to college fare; the Eminence Hotel spared no expense for the Princess and her betrothed. Soon, however, it was time to catch the carriage back to college.

Rosario walked with Ras to the drive outside the hotel, waiting with her for the carriage to be brought around. “I guess…this is goodbye for now,” she said.

Ras shook her head, leaning into kiss Rosario. She made a pleased noise, drawing back and kissing down the side of Ras’ neck. The coconut oil in her hair mingled with her spicy perfume. When she returned to face Ras, she wore a broad smile.

Ras stepped aboard the carriage, feeling the breeze playing over her skin as she rumbled away towards college.

Back at college, everyone was sending letters to their families to announce engagements—or lack thereof—and Ras figured that now was as good a time as any to set her plan into motion. She just had to hope that Matilda would listen to her.

Three days later, Mr. Griffith pulled Ras out of breakfast to speak on the telephone. “It’s urgent, I understand,” he said as he walked her to Lady Renaldt’s office. A pause. “Not an emergency, I believe. But they said it was urgent.”

When Ras picked up the earpiece, she heard her.

“Ras.”

Ras took a breath. “...Mama.”

“...Gerald told me what happened, and then we got your letter.” A pause, and Ras imagine her awkwardly shuffling like she always did when she had to admit she was wrong. “Congratulations on your marriage to Princess Rosario. I hope…”

Her breathing was shaky, and Ras could swear she heard her choke. “...Take care of her.”

“I will.”

After a moment of silence, Matilda spoke again. “Ras…I’m sorry. For everything.”

She had to admit, she wasn’t expecting that. With shaky breath, she replied, “I can’t forgive you for what you put Dad through, and I definitely can’t forgive you for what you put me through.”

It wasn’t long before the rest of it came spilling out. “Hells, I don’t think I can even stand to be in the same room as you for longer than necessary. But I know that you didn’t mean for Dad to die. I know you regret it, just as much as you regret striking me. Dad wouldn’t have fallen in love with you if you weren’t a good woman. That’s why I wrote to you.”

She took another deep breath, before finally, “...I don’t want you at graduation, and I’m certainly not coming home but…if, in the passing year, I asked…would you attend the wedding between Rosario and I?”

For a while, there was no response, and Ras was worried she’d hung up. Then, Matilda spoke. “I would be honored.”

It wasn’t forgiveness, and their relationship wasn’t healed, but it was a start. With that, the pair began to converse normally, with Ras detailing her adventures in Zaledo and her progress on coursework, as well as her exam marks.

As they talked, Mr. Blanchard slipped into the office, holding a letter with a worried expression.

“This was the address Cezara gave me,” he murmured to Mr. Griffith. “But it was returned. I can’t help worrying that something’s happened. She wouldn’t just ignore it. Would she?”

As Matilda began to talk, Ras took a moment to focus on the teachers, sharing Mr. Blanchard’s concerns, especially after what she found when the journalist visited Gallatin.

Mr. Griffith’s shoulders tensed as he surveyed the letter, and muttered that it wasn’t a good idea to ferret around in Miss Dalca’s business.

Mr. Blanchard shook his head. “You’re saying Cezara’s someone who’d sleep with another and just drop them?” he asked, a bit too loudly. “I can’t help feeling that you’re far too relaxed about this.”

Mr. Griffith scowled. “I’m not relaxed about this in the slightest,” he hissed. “I’m as worried as you are. But Lady Renaldt is not someone to argue with. Do you want to end up sacked as well?”

“Of course not,” Mr. Blanchard said, lowering his voice. “It’s just—I feel awful about her, and then there was what she said about—well, the three of us…”

“Hush,” Mr. Griffith replied, his tone warning of untold consequences.

“...Ras?” Matilda said, and Ras shook her head. She tried to recall what Matilda was talking about, prompting her Mother to let out a ‘tsk’, though it sounded more teasing than upset. By the time she was done, Mr. Blanchard left the office. Mr. Griffith rushed Ras out of the office with a worried expression, muttering something about checking her homework and making sure it was graded correctly. Not that she was worried, but she suspected he might regrade it a bit more favorably to keep her quiet.

At the end of the week, it was time for the announcements of formal engagements, and Lady Renaldt has maneuvered them to take place at Gallatin: the Archambault students will have to come to her, paying court as though to a queen.

Ras had her eveningwear from her night with Rosario prepared specifically for this event; the college servants had it pressed and hung perfectly. The rest of the dorm was abuzz with hectic energy. After what felt like an age of waiting, they descended to the banquet hall, where the Archambault students were waiting.

They applauded, and genteel music began playing from the galleries. The show was to begin.

Lady Renaldt and Lord Haberlin took it in turns to list the names of the betrothed, both standing on the teachers’ dais. Each student stood when their name was called; then they met in the center, hands clasped, and walked together to sit at the long tables beneath the teachers. Those without announcements remained seated with friends and associates.

Ras waited for her own name to be called, and eventually, Lady Renaldt said. “Master Ras Thorne is to be betrothed to Princess Rosario of Zaledo.”

Murmurs of surprise and shock rippled around the hall. Rosario rose, resplendent in a flowing dress of eye-catching emerald. Her stride to Ras’ side was smooth and graceful, and when she clasped Ras’ hand, she gave a beaming smiling.

She squeezed Ras’ hand affectionately as they moved to their seats.

Ras and Rosario sat together with the other betrothed couples, watching the rest of the pageantry. Familiar and unfamiliar names droned on, along with applause and the occasional discontented sigh.

Ras, of course, kept her expression attentive and enthusiastic, letting out cheers as names she recognized were called out.

“Eugenia Hartmann is to be betrothed to Winifred Crawford,” Lady Renaldt’s voice called out, and Ras caught their eye, winking at the newly engaged pair.

The event rolled onward, and eventually it was time to eat. A sumptuous dinner was served, and Ras settled with Rosario at a table filled with other Archambault students she barely recognized, let alone recalled their names. Rosario tucked in with enthusiasm, though she had trouble with the mussels. “How in the world are you supposed to eat these without spilling butter everywhere?” she complained, only to hastily add, “Though they’re delicious, of course.”

Every so often, an Archambault student sidled up to congratulate Ras and Rosario with wide smiles and evident envy. Ibarra sat at the teachers table, watching the pair with tense professionalism and ignoring Mr. Blanchard’s attempts at conversation.

As dessert arrived, and another Archambault student murmured congratulations, Rosario gave a sigh as she met Ras’ gaze. “I hope it’s not annoying,” she murmured. “I don’t tend to notice it usually, but it’s…different, with you.”

Ras shook her head, leaning close to Rosario and whispering. “Watch this.”

Amongst the crowded tables, Ras caught Lucien’s eye. He was sitting next to a young man with green eyes and short black hair. Ras wordlessly indicated the direction of the Archambault students, and Lucien caught her meaning straightaway. Standing up with his partner, Lucien wordlessly beckoned other members of the Birchmeier Society to follow him, and they converged upon the crowded table surrounding Ras and Rosario.

The Birchmeier Society had a rather overpowering presence, and soon the conversations went from congratulating the new royal marriage to the proper way to store manuscripts and proper book care. Lucien gave Ras and Rosario a wink, and Ras was confident that they’d have some time uninterrupted as the crowd was focused elsewhere.

Rosario gave a fond smile. “Smooth.” She said, toasting with her glass.

When it was time for dessert, Rosario glanced behind Ras with a faint frown.

“Ah,” she said. “Someone wants to speak with you, now,”

Ras frowned, turning around. It was Karson. She looked awful; her hair straggled out of its braid, and her face was streaked with dust and tears. Amidst all the finery, she is both uncomfortable and out of place.

“One moment, let me take your plate,” she muttered. As she did so, Ras felt the crackling of paper as she pressed a note into Ras’ hand. She hissed into her ear, “Keep your face straight. Don’t show anybody.”

With that, she strode away without another word. As Rosario ate, Ras unfolded the paper underneath the table, scanning over it quickly.

‘Ras, I’m sorry. Please help. I can’t do this anymore. KARSON KNOWS. Make her tell you. I’m in the mines. Blaise M.’

Ras had almost forgotten about the weight of the sins on her shoulders, but reading that note brought the feeling back to her tenfold. Whatever was to come next…it was surely not going to be good.

[cloudninetonine]

Something funny I thought about in relation to the Player Au is some of the crazy shenanigans the games let you pull and what that would be like for the characters actually experiencing them. Especially when you stop to consider that the games don’t really show Link’s and/or assorted NPCs reactions to various things. Let’s count them off by game, yes?

  * The Original (which I have actually played! Retro-gaming ftw!); you can bomb walls and floors to find secret places that hold everything from shops to fairies to a random moblin who gives you rupees for no apparent reason (I, the player, was confused by that last one. I can only imagine what Hyrule’s reaction must’ve been). You can also accidentally bomb your way into the wrong cave and be charged for “door repairs” by the old man inside it

  * ALTTP; you can buy a bee of all things from a red shield shop in the dark world. Not even the shopkeeper knows why that’s there. And then of course there’s one quest in the game where you have to drag a damned chest across the country only to be given an empty bottle as payment.

  * The Oracle games; bump into Maple enough time in either game and she eventually switches out her broom for a vacuum and in a linked game that gets traded in for a flying saucer! (What the hell Maple?! Where’d you even get those from?!).

In Seasons if you set the weather to winter and go into a normally inaccessible house, there’s a green-haired girl named Holly who says, and I quote, “Hey, you're not Santa!”.

There’s a chest with a single rupee! (Link and Player both would prob be deadpanning and going “are you kidding me...”).

There’s this funny little end-game credits skit in a non-Linked run of Ages where Link tries to teach Ralph how to perform a Spin Attack, and Ralph ends up accidentally doing the Hurricane Spin instead before collapsing from dizziness.

  * Four Swords; you can pick up the pots and throw them, and not just at monsters or to break them but also at the other Links! Which then causes the pot to get stuck on their head for a while as everything goes completely black save the character sprite. Which made this hilarious image pop into my head of one of the colors picking up a pot to throw it at some monster only to completely miss and hit one of the other colors instead. (I’m still not sure which combo is funnier, Blue hitting either Green or Vio, or Vio misjudging his aim and hitting Blue!)

  * Pretty much everything you can do in BoTW. Full stop.

  * Wind Waker; attacking a moblin from behind or using the grappling hook on them nets you some pretty funny animations. The grappling hook is especially so because you actually steal the moblin’s necklace and it’ll actually stare at you for a moment at the audacity.

You can steal a Stalfos’s mace while it’s in pieces and when it reforms it’ll realize what’s missing and try to use one of its own arms as nunchucks.

Drop a bomb into an area with a bunch of moblins and the idiots will attack it, with predictable results.

Drop another and they'll run away panicking!

  * In both BoTW and Wind Waker you can make certain monsters to engage in friendly fire against each other and eventually they’ll start attacking their allies instead of Link in revenge.

  * OoT and Majora’s Mask let you have a bit of fun with the masks. Using the Captain's Hat and the Bremen mask during King of Ikana boss fight is a hoot. (On a slightly unrelated note, the verses books strategy guide for Majora’s Mask is just a riot!)

The fact that in both games you can find cows where they have no business being with no explanation.

  * In nearly every game you can beat nearly every boss (including the big bad!) with either the fishing pole or the bug net!

  * Minish Cap; you can use the Cane of Pacci on nearly everything, including Vaati! Just imagine for a moment what that must look like from an in-game perspective. Throughout the entire final fight, Vaati keeps getting flipped upside-down by this kid who’s probably trying not to break down laughing in the middle of fighting. Player is laughing themselves to tears and is likely the reason Link is having a hard time keeping it together.

Every time you activate a warp marker it explodes for absolutely no reason!

Using the gust jar on a Stalfos will yank its skull off, leaving it to wander around blindly. Even funnier is if there are any pots nearby it’ll try to use that as a replacement, which naturally goes about as well as you’d expect.

  * Hitting the Sheikah Stones in Skyward Sword, Majora’s Mask, and Ocarina of Time all have some comical effects, most commonly being rocketing up and then crashing back down like a badly piloted toy helicopter!

  * Tri Force Heroes; the utter chaos that frequently occurs during co-op. I need not say more.

----------

I won't lie to you, pixie, this post was one hell of a rollacoaster to read but being the daredevil I am I enjoyed every second of it.

I can only begin to imagine half the stuff Guide! Player had probably coaxed the boys into. Some instances leading in happiness, some in confusion and others with said hero with a few or more scraps or possibly being chased. They're a menace, they know it, and they have to use that opportunity to bully those boys (and try and bring smiles to their faces during their darkest hour.)

[skytooru]

SUNDRESS SZN COLLABORATION

Timeksip!Oikawa x fem!reader

Summary: you‘re married to they pro volleyball player Tooru Oikawa, living in Buenos Aires. You‘re invited to a summer party this evening being hosted by you husband‘s old bestfriend Hajime Iwiazumi who is visiting his friend during summer break of the volleyball season. You took the opportunity to wear your new, pretty little sundress, leading to a beautiful evening full of dancing…

A/N: this is my entry for the Sundress SZN Collab by @saintshiba . Please check out their blog and the other entries!! Ignore grammar mistakes and my Spanish i haven’t spoken Spanish in like 3 years pls thanks and last but not least MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

It’s a nice, warm summer afternoon, as youre walking through the city by yourself, running some errands. The sun is shining bright but there’s a soft breeze cooling down the air a little bit. You’re walking over the market place, looking at all the fruits and vegetables being displayed in gehe little stalls. You walk over to one of them, approaching the elderly man standing behind his stall. It smells like citrus fruits and the freshly cut mango lying on a little cutting board for customers to try.

„Buen día!“, he greets you with a big smile on his face, „Cómo puedo ayudarte?“

„Hello! How can i help you?“

„Buen día, necesito unos naranjas y unos mangos“, you answer with he Spanish you’ve picked up over the years living in Argentina.

„Hello, i need some oranges and mangos.“

„Ah sí claro! Tengo uns oferta para ti, tres naranjas y dos mangos solo 300 pesos.“

„Yes of course! I have an offer for you,3 oranges and 2 mangos for only 300 pesos“

„ Vale, suena bien“, you agree with a smile on your face.

„ Alright, sounds good“

He puts the fruits into a paper bag while you pull out your purse to put 300 pesos on the table. The man hands you the bag and picks up the money, thanking you and wishing you a great day as you walk away, returning the wishes.

You continue your journey down the street, watching the people around you looking at all the goods, talking, laughing, just having a great time. Just as you decided its time to head home, an orange sundress catches your eye in the window of a small boutique. You enter the small shop, sighing on relief at the cool air inside. You’re happy that you’re finally able to catch a break from the heat outside.

You walk around the store, searching for he dress you just saw. As you’re walking around, a polite looking woman with long brown hair approaches you.

„ Estás buscando algo específico?“, she asks.

„Are you searching for something specific?“

„Sí, vi un vestido naranjo quando pasé pro la tienda“, you say, telling the woman what youre searching for. She smiles knowingly, telling you to wait right there and she walks over to a clothing rack with sundresses. You watch her searching for the right size and pulling out one of the orange dresses.

„Yes, i saw an orange dress as i walked past the store.“

She comes back to you, handing you the clothing item. You tell her you’re going to try it on and so you make your way over to where the changing rooms are, entering one of them. After putting down all your stuff. You take off the clothes your currently wearing and slip into the dress. It look stunning on you, the orange color complimenting your sunkissed skin, you turn around, getting a good look form all sides and you quite literally fell in love. The fabric feels so light and cool on your skin, its amazing.

You admire yourself in the mirror for a few more moments before taking it off and putting your own clothes back on. You make your way over to the checkout where you meet the same lady who helped you earlier.

„Todo bien?“

„Everything okay?“

„Sí, es un vestido muy bonito, me encanta el color y como se siente en el piel“, you answer, smilin at the woman.

„Yes, the dres is very pretty, i love the color and the way the fabric feels on the skin.“

She smiles back at you, agreeing with what you just said. You hand her the money after she told you the price and packed the dress into a small bag, giving it to you and wishing you a nice day. You wish her the same and exit the small boutique, finally making your way home.

You reach your shared apartment and unlock the door, walking inside and puttin down the groceries to take off your shoes. Toru comes walking out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair wet, water dripping down on his bare chest.

„ You got everything you needed?“ he asks, walking over to you to cup your face and plant a kiss on your forehead, a drop of water falling down on it.

You wipe your forehead with a smile on you face, „yes, its in the bags over there and i also found a really pretty sundress for later. It matches your orange button up shirt.“

Tooru listens to you telling him about your day, while carrying all the things you bought into the small kitchen and putting them where they belong. You take a seat on one of the barstools placed around the cooking island and watch your husband folding the paper bags and putting them into a small basket on the floor where all the other bags you use for shopping are. You see the muscles of his arms and shoulders move and admire his beautiful, soft features making his side profile almost perfect.

He really just looks like an angel. You still cannot believe a man like him calls himself your husband. Never in your life have you been happier than with him. Tooru Oikawa, the literal love your life.

Tooru only leaves your sundress lying on the counter and turns back to you.

„I like the color, im sure you look absolutely breathtaking in that“, he says, his words making you blush, „ but you should stop sitting around and start getting ready, we have to leave in around 30 minutes or we‘ll be late, my love.“

You agree with him, grab the piece of clothing lying n front of you and make your way over to the bathroom, while your husband goes to your shared bedroom to finish getting ready, too.

He’s standing in front of the mirror, buckling his belt as you enter the room, all freshened up, fresh deodorant and some perfume making you smell like flowers. Tooru turns around and his eyes widen the moment he sees you in that orange sundress. He looks at you for a good moment before opening his mouth and closing it a second later, not knowing what to say. He just admires you in awe and you can see his chocolate brown eyes sparkle with love.

You grin at him, and walk over to where hes standing, wrapping your arms around his neck and a planting a kiss on his lips.

„You look absolutely beautiful“, he whispers before kissing you once more.

„You too“, you whisper back to your husband.

He’s wearing the orange button up shirt you mentioned earlier with a pair of cream colored dress pants and brown shoes. His hair is a little messy, pulled into a loose side part like always and his cologn smells fresh with a hint of sea breeze. He looks almost angelic in the already slightly orange rays of sunlight seeping through the big window. You pull him tight, hugging him while nuzzling your face into the crooks his neck. Oikawa does the same, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, holding you in this position for a moment that feels like forever. A moment you wish for to never end but as quickly as it started, it ends, as Tooru pulls away, kissing you on the cheek.

„Amor, i would love to hold you like that for forever but we really need to leave now.“

He wraps his arms around you one more time, whispering a faint I love you before pulling away completely. A wave of disappointment rushes through your mind but you remind yourself that he‘s right. You grab a pair of open, white heels from the closet right next to you and quickly put them on before following your husband into the hallway, out of the apartment and out the house, to the car.

By the time you arrive at Iwaizumis house, he owns for vacation purpose only, everyone is already sitting in their designated place outside in the garden that belongs to the building. It’s a beautful setting. The grass looks green and there’s a lot of flowers an other colorful plants. Theres a big pool in the middle of the garden, with white tiles around it.

The two of you walk into the backyard, joining the other guests at the little sitting area. Hajime approaches you, a big smile on his face. He bumps fists with oikawa, greeting him, asking how hes been and they start talking. After a few minutes of catching up on each others lives, the black haired man turns to you.

„ Hey y/n, you look good. How are you doing?“

„ Thank you Iwa, you look nice too. I‘m good, thanks, what about you?“

„Yea its alright, I‘m glad its finally summer break. Has been a tough season.“

„ You got a lot of injuries this season, huh?“, Oikawa joins in on the conversation.

„Yea more than usual its insane, but whatever, Im glad nothing really bad happened so far“, Iwazumi says.

Youand your husband both nod n agreement and IWaizumi changes the topic, telling you to take a seat since the food hes been cooking is almost ready.

You take a seat next to your old friend Hanamaki, the other seijoh boys back from Highschool being present, too. The evening kind of scurries away, you had a delicious dinner and now everyone’s just talking, music is playing and youre watching he boys laugh and goof around, like they have always done it. Oikawa is silently sitting next to you, watching you from the side as you turn to him.

„What?“, you whisper.

„Nothing“, he smiles softly, his eyes glistening in the lights hanging above your heads, „youre just so beautiful.“

You blush at his comment. The music currently playing fades out and a new, very familiar song starts playing. A woman starts speaking in Spanish and you immeditely recognize it as kali Uchi‘s song la Luna enamorada. Your song. The song you danced to on your wedding.

La venganza es dulce, ¿sabes?

Muy dulce

Oikawa grabs your hand asking you to dance. He pulls you out of you seat and onto the grass. He wraps his arms around your waist and you put your arms around his neck, swaying to the slow music. You dance away and oikawa sings along.

La noche y tú

Vive la Luna enamorada

He hums along, slowly dancing with you and you feel happier than ever, dancing with your husband, the man you love, to your favourite song in a warm, beautiful summer night. Life really feels like a ream right now.

You lokeach other in the eyes, Tooru kissing you, as the song slowly fades away. Pulling out of your daydream. You follow him back to your seat, letting the evening fade away…

Copyright 2023 skytooru all rights reserved - do not repost or translate on any platform

[willel]

As long as the official accounts and the Duffers have said the play is canon, they’ve even traveled to London recently to attend a rehearsal, idt we can choose to pick what it is or not, I don’t understand this reluctance to treat it as such. It’s basically the show’s official prequel. It’s the same that people who say we can’t take everything from S1 seriously since they hadn’t mapped out everything back then.

I pick and choose canon all the time. That is what fanon is for after all. Would you believe I helped create an entire separate universe with a group of people (hundreds) just because we didn't like the ending much? 👀

Either way, when presented with two conflicting facts between a show and a play, I'll just go with the show.

Doesn't mean I won't potentially enjoy the play. It's just that.... This is something that was stated in the very first episode like 20 minutes in, you know? I appreciate it when writers are able to keep everything in line and all the details come together almost perfectly.

I can excuse set mistakes (like maybe in one scene a character is walking one direction but on the next, they're obviously not walking in the same direction), but when it comes to character backstories.... I think that's one thing that should be pretty consistent? Wouldn't it bother you a little if one season a character said their favorite color has always been orange, but then the following season they tell a long story about how their favorite color has always been blue and nothing else?

They knew from the beginning that season 1 would be a series when they signed on with Netflix. So I expect by season 2 (which is when Bob stated they didn't know each other in high school), they'd have their big outline already sketched out (not finalized but sketched out) and their character arcs relatively mapped out.

They told the audience in season 2 that Hopper and Joyce were once besties of a sort. The fandom has understood this for years.

They told the audience in season 2 that Joyce and Bob did not know each other in high school. The fandom has known this for years. But now we should smile and nod along?

I'm not saying it's the worst retcon ever. There could be much worse rewrites. This retcpn is so small that I can make up random excuses on how the hell this makes sense

For example:

- although Joyce, Bob, and Hopper seem to be on an adventure together, they only became a team coincidentally and it was too dark to see his face, nor did she catch his name before they were separated and never spoke face to face again because Bob was too nervous. But whatever happened during this adventure on the dark made Bob fall in love with her.

See? I have the magical ability to write my own headcanons when something just doesn't sit right with me. No one else has to believe what I believe of course. This is for me.