#-it looks like she had hair like that when she was younger? And so did Camilla?

[enwoso]

ON EDGE - ella toone

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a little bit suggestive content!

ella was on edge. she had been a nervous reck all week, ever since she found out that this was the weekend that she was going to be meeting your family for the first time. she was trying to downplay it by saying that she wasn't nervous but you could see straight through that false persona she was acting out.

you had met ella's family, a few months into you and ella dating — it being after one of the derby games and considering they lived in manchester and the pair of you were playing for united well let's just say you had clicked very fast.

you were nervous the first time you met her family — it was a normal thing so you totally understood why she was acting the way she was.

you had the job all week of constantly assuring ella that she had nothing to worry about, your parents had heard all about ella — they felt as if they already knew everything about the brunette without even fully meeting the girl properly.

hearing the way you talk about the girl and how much adored her, and all the small little cute things ella would do for you to make you feel like the most special girl in the world. they had heard it all and to point out the obvious your whole family were also football fans so at least you would all have something to talk about over dinner.

your also had two brothers, tommy who was the oldest out the three of you by 2 years always trying to take the role of being the boss and then there was your younger brother lewis who had just turned 19 and behind you was probably the biggest football fan in the family.

your brothers both didn't and refused to believe you at first when you said that you were signing for united they thought you were just playing into the silly rumours that the transfer pages were spreading about you at the time.

even after the multiple instagram posts on the united's official instagram page with you being in the official kit they for some reason wouldn't believe you. you knew they were just doing it to wind you up and it was times like those that made you really wish you were an only child.

your mum and dad — specifically your mum who you were adamant was more excited to finally meet ella in person then she was to see her own daughter.

ever since you let it slip that you had a girlfriend over the phone just a few weeks into your relationship with ella, you had been bombarded with messages from both parents asking when they would finally meet her in person.

you on the other hand were excited for your two worlds to finally meet not having seen your parents in 3 months since they were last able to find the time to get down to manchester to watch you play as they lived in london

which did make it difficult for them to watch but you knew they were always your biggest supporter weather they were in attendance or not.

you had been waiting for this day to come for what felt like years having to reschedule many times due to last minutes meetings, training camps, match days or press days it had become quite difficult to even set out a day and part of you at one point was convinced it would never happen.

you wanted your parents to meet ella properly and not on the side of a pitch in the porting rain while you both looked tired and longed for nothing but a warm shower.

so when the idea of your family finding a few spare days where they were able to come up and stay with you and your beloved girlfriend and even the plus side of watching you play again in person seemed like the perfect way.

after just getting out of the shower, you were drying your hair as the door of your shared room flung open as ella waltzed in and you could tell her mind was racing.

"what's wrong, darling?" you asked turning the hair dryer off, and swinging around in the vanity chair to face ella who had flopped down on the bed face first, letting a huge dramatic sigh out.

"nothin'" she mumbled out, it being blurred out by the fact she was talking into the bed sheets. a small giggle left your lips at the sight of her dramatics.

"love c'mon, your gonna be fine!" you said moving the chair closer to the bed, pulling at her ankles to pull ella down the bed as she groaned trying to move back up the bed.

ella turned over onto her back, "i am fine, i'm cool, calm and collected!" she sat up and flashed you a smile before crashing back into the sheets her hands going up to cover her face, a loud groan coming from her as she did so.

"so which one was that cool, calm or collected?" you joked earning yourself a roll of the eyes from the brunette as you moved off the chair and onto your shared bed lying down next to ella.

a big huff was heard from beside you as her hands dropped from her face and turned her head to you, "i've decided i can't meet your parents" ella says talking quicker then you can comprehend what she is actually saying — here we go again.

"what? why this time?" you ask, this being the hundredth time it felt that she was trying to get out of meeting your family.

"i just can't, i'll just say up here and you can tell them i'm-" footballers these days not only dramatic on the pitch but even more dramatic off the pitch and over the smallest of things ever.

you cut her off, "els! baby you'll be fine they love you already and they haven't even met you properly, plus i don't think my mum will be happy if she turns up and your not here with me — she more excited to see you then she is me!" you told her as a small smile crept onto her face.

"she is?" she asks, seeming surprised by you saying that.

"yes! every message i get from her always involves your name too — how are you and ella, don't forget to tell ella i said hi all that jazz, half the time she doesn’t even ask about me!" you said telling her only a few of the messages your received on the daily from your mum.

it sometimes amazes you how she can be so calm over playing a match in front of thousands of people but then can go to acting like a scared child over meeting your parents.

"oh.." she mumbled that seemingly put some ease to her nerves.

a silence crept over the two of you as your wrapped your arm over ella's waist, "what?" you asked feeling ella's eyes staring at you.

"nothin’ you just look pretty" she shook her head, rolling over so that she hovered over you looking at you with nothing but adoration even if your hair was half dry and half wet in ella's eyes you always looked beautiful.

a small giggle left your lips as you hummed in response your eyebrows lifting a little, "wait a second" ella said still hovering over you this time a little closer to your face.

"why?"

"i just need-" she cut herself off by closing the distance between the two of you, pressing you a little deeper into the white sheets as her lips locked with yours delivering a bruisingly passionate kiss. "-to do this" the brunette breathed out finishing her sentence while giving you a moment to catch your breathe.

just as her hand gripped your jaw and tugged your mouth to meet hers again. you couldn't help but moan into her mouth as she pressed her body closer to yours her knee pressing teasingly into you as she slipped her tongue in and swirled it around.

the midfielder knowing exactly how to rile you up as she sucked down hard on your bottom lip as your head pressed into the bed further with a beefy whine.

not even giving you a moment to process anything she pulled away and lips instead began to move down towards your neck pressing small and soft kisses as she did so.

her affections were clearly needy and messy as her fingers snuck up the inside of your t-shirt, her strong hands flattening against the bare skin and pushing you harder into the bed so she felt your and contract and tense under her every touch.

"els-" you mumbled out against her lips pulling away from her as best you could, "i need to finish getting ready" you said as ella pulled away resting her head on your shoulder.

"can we not just stay like this" she asks as she wraps her arms around your waist holding you tight as she places a small kiss behind your ear.

"as much as i would love too, me and you both know we can't" you smile kissing her forehead as she lifts up off you as you stood up to go back to drying your hair before it became too frizzy knowing it wouldn't be long until your parents and brothers would be here.

"wait, love-" ella began but before you even gave her a chance to get her worry out you stopped her.

"love, stop stressing. i'm not feeding you to the lions i'm gonna be there with you, holding your hand if you want me too!" you teased reaching over to squeeze her knee in reassurance as you got back to doing what you were previously doing beforehand.

as ella whispered that she was going to watch tv downstairs, placing a kiss to your cheek before leaving you to get ready in peace.

after getting ready you went downstairs to find ella sat on the couch her leg bouncing up and down, flinching at any sudden movement thinking it was the sound of the door.

when there was a knock at the door, she jumped up following you to the door like a little lost puppy

"oh thank god this is your house!" your brother sighed with relief walking straight into your home, not saying hello to you but instead making sure to introduce themselves to your girlfriend — at this point you were sure they had only come to see her. you could leave in that moment and they probably wouldn't even notice.

"hi tommy!" you said blankly, watching as he walked down your hallway throwing his arm up at an attempt to wave, you turning your attention to your parents and younger brother who had his headphones in looking down at his phone probably not even realising that you had opened the door.

moving out the way for your parents to be able to walk in the door with there luggage, which you just moved to one side. "hi mum" you smiled, wrapping your arms around her.

"oh my little girl, you look so grown up! manchester must be treating you well!" her smile couldn't get any bigger seeing her daughter follow her dreams and to be living happy was truly beautiful to her.

"hi dad!" you greeted him, hugging him too as your mum went over and engulfed ella into a big hug and said her hellos too.

"hi buttercup" he said, the old nickname which he gave you when you were little, only because you had a little patch in your garden back in london which used to grow buttercups and when you were little you would always pick them and bring them to mainly your dad but also your mum. so your dad gave you the nickname and ever since it had just stuck.

you rolled your eyes turning around knowing ella would tease you about the nickname your family had for you, "don't even" you pointed to her as ella raised her hands in defence as she tried her best not to laugh.

you went and said your hellos to your younger brother, lewis who had now realised that you were stood in front of him and the two of you caught up a little alongside tommy who had finished raiding you kitchen cupboards for now, and finally came over to say hello as it gave you a chance to find the in and outs of what they had been doing since the last time you saw them as ella spoke with your parents.

"you make our little buttercup so happy, she's told us all about you!" you heard your dad say as he had now made himself comfy in your living room.

"only good things i hope, but i definitely got lucky!" ella said sitting down opposite your mum and dad, looking over at you a big grin appearing on her face as you walked into the room.

she did believe that she got lucky and she had never been the one to believe in 'the one' or 'soulmates' or anything like that but she definitely believed that you and her were soulmates.

you sat down next to ella your arm wrapping around her shoulders pulling her closer to you. your brothers having been left to their own devices in your kitchen, more than likely raiding your cupboards after guilt tripping you: "but y/n it was such a long journey!" in there stupid sappy voice.

"so ella-" your dad began however was cut off by your two brothers coming in arms filled with pretty much every snack they could of possibly of found in your kitchen.

"seriously!" you had cut your dad off, as your two brothers sat on the couch next to your parents, releasing the snacks from their arms. "your not very good at hiding the crisps by the way" lewis smiled, your favourite crisps that you had been saving for a cheat day in his arms.

"i actually hate you- but anyways this is my older brother tommy.." you pointed out to the boy who already had his mouth filled with popcorn as he smiled over to ella, a little hi and wave coming from him.

"and my annoying little brother lewis" you smiled sarcastically towards lewis who shrugged digging into your crisps.

"ella, you could have done so much better than the mug that is my sister!" lewis said, receiving a flap to the back of his head by your dad as you rolled your eyes at your brother, ella just laughing along with the joke.

"she's not all that bad" ella joked, receiving a small dig to the ribs from your as she held onto her side a whisper of an ow coming from the brunette.

the next hour was spent, talking as your mum and dad got to know ella better - even though they didn’t think that was possible because of how much you had already told them over the phone. but with that came with the embarrassing story’s from your childhood and your brothers winding you up.

with that came along the football talk which went on for hours but something you didn’t mind talking about at least it saved you from any more embarrassing stories being told but nevertheless your smile never left your face, as watching your girlfriend interact with your family and get along with so well was all you could ask for in life.

“have you come to help or be a distraction?” ella giggled as she was helping your mum dish up the dinner you had prepared earlier, as you had wandered into the kitchen wrapping your arms around the ella’s waist.

“i always help!” you sighed rested your head on her shoulder as your mum scoffed jokingly. “no the boys aren’t sharing the controller!” you frowned as both your mum and ella began to laugh.

“you didn’t really think you were gonna get a chance of playing when they haven’t played on fifa for the whole journey here!” your mum said looking at you with raised eyebrows as your frown deepened and a big huff coming from you.

“well i thought you know because it’s MY house-“ you began as ella coughed, “sorry OUR house, that they would give me a go on my games!” you complained as ella shook her head at your complaints.

“it’s okay you play on it tomorrow” ella reassured, turning to kiss you on the cheek. as you stayed clinged to your girlfriends waist, your hands wandering up her united hoodie she was wearing.

“i love you baby, but can you let go cause i can’t move” ella whispered in your ear, putting down the spoon she was using to dish up food on the counter and gently prying your hands away from her bare skin. pecking you quickly on the lips as ella moved to where your mum was at the other side of the kitchen.

“can you go and tell your brothers and your dad that dinner is ready?” you mum asked as you stood leaning against the counter dipping your finger in the pudding ella had been making.

mumbling a yes as you retreated from the kitchen, groaning internally at the thought of having to pull them away from the game - knowing it would take a while.

you walked into the living room, all three of them with controller, part of you was contemplating standing there and seeing how long it would actually take for them to notice you but then again you would most likely be stood there all night!

instead you flapped lewis on the head with a cushion, “what-“ he said screaming as tommy and your dad looked behind them where you were stood beginning to laugh. “you joking, i’ve just lost because of you!” as lewis threw the controller to the side of the couch.

“boo hoo, karma for not letting me play!” you sarcastically smiled, “dinners ready by the way” as you walked out the room hearing them complain to each other how the other actually won.

Your dad and brothers coming into the dining room almost seconds after you, as your brothers both looked at each, “did you cook?” they ask almost in sync as you nodded confused at what they were trying to get at.

"yeah, i'm no longer hungry" tommy says as you gasp as ella and your parents are stifling their laugh.

“i’ll have you find, i’m a very good cook. aren’t i els?” you said, actually taking offence to what your brothers said. looking over at ella for back up as she hesitantly agreed.

you scoffed, "you can all starve for all i care then!"

sitting down at the table next to ella, as small talk began inbetween eating the food you had made. the odd topic about life in manchester and what yours and ella’s future plans were — which when brought up you didn’t really know what to say.

of course you and ella had talked about eventually getting married, starting a family but right now everything was perfect. nothing needed to be added and nothing needed to change. everything was perfect.

“i hate to admit this but that was actually quite nice” tommy admitted, finishing his meal you had made after he insulted your cooked, lewis and your parents both agreeing.

ella already knew what you had made was going to be nice considering you make it quite often for the two of you — usually on your recovery days.

“told you!” you smile to yourself in satisfaction - there was no better feeling than proving someone wrong but the someone being your brothers made it that little bit sweeter.

“definitely better than the cake you made for mum on mother’s day when you put salt instead of sugar in it” you dad poked fun, as the memory came back to you. your smile disappearing as quick at it came.

“in my defence i was fifteen” you defended yourself as you could hear ella beside you giggling. it was generally a honest mistake because which idiot even decided to put the salt bowl and the sugar bowl next to each other? someone was bound to get them mixed up and it just happened to be you.

“here was me about to ask you to make me a cake for my birthday!” ella joked, her hand resting on your thigh as she leant into you laughing along side your family.

before you joined in. you couldn’t stay mad at ella. you two worlds had jelled just the way you hoped and that was enough, even if it meant you would be the butt of some jokes but you couldn’t win every battle.

liked by millieturner and 748,013 others

ellatoone meet the parents? completed it mate!

comments -

alessia finally got over your fear i see?

1h 103 likes     reply

-> ellatoone what? i wasn’t scared?

-> yourusername mhm keep telling yourself that baby

lewis91 hello ella👋🏻

24m 217 likes     reply

-> ellatoone you sound like a bot?

#woso #woso blurbs #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #ella toone #ella toone x reader #manchester united #manchester united women #my #muwomen #man utd women #england #lionesses #woso fanfics #woso one shot #enwoso

[dqrciedaily]

baby arsenal headcannons, arsenal wfc x teen!reader

a/n: i am so so so sorry that this isn’t an actual fic but i’ve left yous without anything for like two weeks so take this 🥰🥰🥰

warning - this isn’t proofread so pls ignore any mistakes x

-

1. she is maths no.1 public enemy - literally will stare at her homework for two hours instead of actually trying it. then the next day at school she gets in trouble for not doing it but she genuinely couldn’t care less because she’d rather have them email lia than try do trigonometry

2. her tiktok reposts and twitter likes have fans speculating like there is no tomorrow - she’s definitely liked transfer rumours on twitter before as well as reposting things she shouldn’t be and she reposts things that happened way back way but people think it’s about her current situation, leading to some very concerned fans in her tiktok comments and instagram requests.

3. baby girl has stina and laura wrapped around her finger - she’s cold? stina’s gonna give her the jumper she’s wearing. she’s hungry? laura’s up to make her something to eat, even though maus is perfectly capable of doing it herself. they’re basically on her beck and call.

4. she always curses out players in german on the pitch - when she was younger her brothers taught her the art of cursing people out in german then speaking in english to confuse them. however this did not work when arsenal played chelsea and she went flying after a tackle from nüsken, who very obviously understands german, leading to maus getting a yellow.

5. which leads to the next point which is that she gets her fair share of yellows - giving katie a run for her money, although most of hers come from back chatting the ref and not from actual gameplay, although she isn’t afraid to put in a heavy tackle here and there.

6. her + kyra = little shits on steroids - on the first media day of the season they decided to put y/n and kyra in three of the same interviews, let’s just say absolutely nothing productive happened until caitlin had to come in to do an interview with the two of them.

7. she’s lia’s no.1 reason for her early gray hairs - firstly maus is awful at answering phone calls, so if she’s out with her friends and lia needs something best believe she cannot contact her. secondly the amount of emails the school sends her may send lia into overdrive, she genuinely couldn’t care less if y/n didn’t do her homework as long as she’s passing all her classes, which she is (besides math but lia doesn’t need to know that.)

8. y/n has the best outfits - her instagram feed is filled with mirror pics of her outfits and they’re all just so good!!! she’s known for her fashionable clothes throughout the woso community.

9. she gets really really really nervous when doing interviews by herself - she already refuses to do orals in school because they stress her out too much, so after her first full 90 for arsenal she gets called to do an interview and poor girl is swaying from side to side the entire time, stumbling over her words and overall looking like a deer caught in headlights.

10. the first time she brings a girl or boy home lia gets a group of the girls to pretend they’re over for dinner without telling y/n - so then when y/n gets home she sees most of her teammates there and very hastily shoves her ‘friend’ upstairs, before going over to the girls who all tease her. then when she’s upstairs in her room with her ‘friend’ they all take turns coming upstairs to walk past the closed door to hear what they’re talking about.

11. she is a hugger of note - the first time she meant all the girls minus her shy demeanour she hugged every single teammate she met. she is also a massive cuddler, on the team bus she makes ours sit in the window seat (much to the brunettes complains) then uses kyra as a pillow which 1. forces kyra to be quiet because she doesn’t want to wake y/n and 2. she can’t move around the bus as she wants deciding to annoy everyone which the other girls are very thankful for.

12. her first crush on a girl was laura freigang, who she had seen around the german youth camps before - she even told her parents at one stage that she was going to go to penn state just like lau did but that phase was short lived when she then developed a crush on one of her teammates in her age group instead.

13. in another life she’s a dj who lives in ibiza - literally no explanation needed, she truly is a party animal at heart and would go to all the festivals and raves possible during the off season.

#darcie’s drabbles #woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal wfc #arsenal wfc x reader

[jazzyoranges]

Late nights - drabble

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: sorry anon, i accidentally deleted the request 😓 but they asked for me to write a fic with tara in fem!reader’s hoodie (aka cuddly tara strikes again)

Words: 0.9k

A/n: hopefully a lil something to get me out of my writing slump. let’s hope this isn’t too bad considering i haven’t written in a few months 😅

You really didn’t mean to be out for so long

First your boss asks you to do one favor, then another, and next thing you know you’re at work for 4 hours more than you’re supposed to be. The asshole didn’t even pay you for all the extra shit you did! You made a mental note to go job hunting this week.

Maybe the gay club was looking for a stripper? Nah. Your girlfriend would get jealous

So you were angry. Angry about your paycheck

Next a few storm clouds roll up that night. Of course you forget to bring your rain jacket that day. Not to mention, rain feels like hail stones when you’re on your motorcycle. Apparently it’d be a cold day in hell before you dressed right for the weather

So along with being angry, you were cold and wet. Shitty might’ve been the lightest way you could’ve described your day

At least you could come home to your wonderful girlfriend in an apartment of your own. It took lots of convincing and hundreds of game nights to convince Sam to even accept the idea of you and Tara being alone together. Fortunately you were blessed with patience and homosexuality — two things that could withstand Sam’s will to protect her sister

Was the older Carpenter’s place on the floor right above you and Tara’s?

…

Yes. Yes it was.

But if it made your girlfriend and her sister happy, you had no reason to not be as well. Other than the elevator that never fucking worked but that was out of their hands

Your shirt and hair were absolutely soaked in rainwater by the time you reached your apartment door. The was a small trail of water behind you from where you walked but that might’ve been the least of your concerns. Fishing around in your damp pants for your keys, you fortunately find them without much effort

Opening the door with as little energy you can, you lock the door behind you and triple check you locked it just like Sam told you

Not wasting any time you slide off your wet shirt in the middle of your living room, throwing it on a chair and missing the younger Carpenter waiting on the couch for you half asleep

“Baby?” Tara rubs her eyes. You stand in the middle of your hallway like a deer in headlights. You were awfully vulnerable while wet and almost naked. Who knew.

Before you can respond, there’s shuffling behind you then something weighted and warm on your back. Tara’s leaning into you with her arms around your torso while you’re wet and almost naked in the middle of your hallway. What a sight.

“Why were you so late? You’re working tonight…” Your girlfriend’s hand dips a bit below your waistband and you have to resist the urge to shiver. From the cold? From Tara? Only god knew

“My boss had me do extra shit. I’ll find a different job that doesn’t have me out so late” You turn around to face Tara while her arms were still around you “I promise”

The younger Carpenter only hums into your chest without any sign of moving. So you don’t. It gives you the chance to really soak in the moment along with the rainwater on your skin. You only pull away when your girlfriend also starts to shiver

Of course she’s wearing nothing but a hoodie

Specifically, Tara’s wearing nothing but your hoodie

“How long have you been fighting sleep? Go to bed, love” You pick up your girlfriend with her legs wrapped around your waist and her arms loosely thrown around your neck

“Since you decided you hated me” Tara mumbles into your shoulder

“When was that?”

“When you didn’t come home on time”

“And I gave you a reason why I was late”

“Which doesn’t excuse you, because you could’ve hurried up” Tara plays with your bra strap as you stop walking toward your shared bedroom

“What I’m hearing is, you don’t want to take a late night shower with me? Even after a long day of work, where you could help me de-stress?” You say with a certain smugness in your voice

Your girlfriend whips her head up at your offer but you’ve already made it to your shared bed, not wasting a second to plop her down

“Waitbabypleaseididn’tmeanit-“ You’re already in the bathroom as Tara’s trying to scramble to you

“What? Sorry, love! Can’t hear you over the shower”

You had a childhood cat that always followed you around when you were younger. Tara reminded you of when your cat would scratch at the door whenever you went to the bathroom. Your girlfriend even had the scratching down just like your cat

When you were about to hop in the bath for a quick shower, something stops you from getting in. The imagery alone that Tara is probably leaning against the door waiting for you to get out is enough to pull at your heartstrings

You weren’t mean. You missed Tara as much as she missed you. It’s why she always wore your hoodies and you always took her shirts that fit you

So against your better judgment and the water bill you’re going to have to take Advil for, you unlock the bathroom door but you don’t open it

You’re both in the shower and you’re in Tara less than a second later

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #scream #scream 6 #tara carpenter scream #sam carpenter

[nyrasproblm]

Ignorance

part 1/?

Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: You confess to Joel and are rejected.

Word Count: 2K

Warning: angst, rejection, mention of the Apocalypse (don't tell me), mention of deaths.

Ignoring the bad part of things was your favorite thing to do. It made you less sad and gave a false sense of normality in the destroyed and rotten reality you lived in. Not that Jackson was destroyed and rotten, but the world outside the gates was. So that's why you ignored everything, the spores, the cordyceps, the clickers, runners, lurkers, all of them. You did everything to escape being put on patrol, you wouldn't leave Jackson unless it was a matter of life and death. Your tasks in the community were taking care of the gardens, the stables and cleaning the community cafeteria.

It seems like a lot, but it's good for not looking idle and useless, it takes up your entire day and gives you a feeling of work accomplished and satisfaction at the end of the day, when you climb the few old wooden steps to the porch of your house. Those steps really need replacing, actually. If you stood still for more than a few minutes on top of them you ran the risk of falling. But you left that aside, you had something else in mind. In fact, you had one person in mind.

That almost completely gray-haired man, with a grey beard, robust, deep and serious voice, strong Texan accent. Joel Miller. You couldn't stand being around him for more than a few minutes, your heart was beating very quickly and you felt butterflies in your stomach. The man was Ellie's father, a girl a few years younger than you, she was a bit foul-mouthed but nice, you had already spoken to her a few times.

You held your breath from the first time you saw him in the community a year ago, and it's never been the same since. Whenever you passed him on the streets you held an idiotic sigh, you felt like a teenager for acting like that, but you couldn't help it. The man had your heart in his hands and you couldn't do anything to get it back.

Some people in Jackson spoke badly about Joel behind his back, saying he was a surly, violent man who had a lot of mood swings. One of your few friends, Emily, said the same thing when you mentioned Joel to her, but you ignored it. It wasn't like he was that bad, it should just be that the hard years he lived outside the gates were taking a toll on him, but you were sure he was a good person.

You said this to Emily, but she reiterated that Joel was an extremely violent and bad-tempered man who had done terrible things in the outside world. You chuckled and said 'and who hasn't done terrible things out there?'. Emily sighed and the conversation ended there

Holidays in Jackson were celebrated without fail, especially the most famous ones, like Christmas and New Year, but Maria began to innovate and encourage other things, like spring food festivals, Mother's Day, and Valentine's Day. It seemed strange to celebrate Valentine's Day at the end of the world, but the young people in the community seemed to get excited, you included, so hearts and pink things were hung on the doors of the houses and some lights were painted pink too, in the community bar.

Oh, one thing that wasn't mentioned: your house was almost opposite Joel's house. A coincidence. You took advantage of the Valentine's Day arrangements and picked up some decorations to hang in your house, a medium pink paper heart was glued, and next to it two small red hearts. You pulled away and smiled widely as you looked at the minimal decorations that gave some life to the almost colorless landscape.

You heard heavy footsteps trampling the snow and turned to see the man himself, shotgun slung over his shoulders, backpack on his back and a tired expression on his face. Joel looked directly at your door, then looked at you and shook his head and turned to enter his own without saying anything.

You let out an excited squeal along with other women whenever someone confessed to their loved one or handed over a hastily made card. The number of these events had been increasing since the community was dressed up for the holiday. You couldn't wait to do the same, you had already planned everything, you had handmade a card for Joel, it wasn't pink or red, he didn't seem to like those things very much. It was a nice card that could be used to decorate his room, or something like that, if he didn't actually have a room.

You wouldn't do that in front of everyone, you knew Joel was an older and reserved man, he didn't seem to like attention. You didn't know his schedule, you only saw him occasionally passing home at dusk, so that's what you did: you sat on your sofa below the window and waited until Joel passed by. As soon as he appeared in your field of vision with the same thick beige jacket, the same shotgun slung over his shoulder, the same worn brown backpack and the same heavy boots you stood up and took a deep breath. She watched until he entered the house and closed the door, then took the card from the coffee table and put on his coat, opened the door and took the few steps it took until he arrived at Joel's house.

The card you had prepared was made of yellow paper, folded in half, it had a bee drawn with your best artistic gifts and right below it there was the phrase 'Bee mine?' in large black letters. You let out a giggle through your nose and walked up the few steps to Joel's house, knocked on the door softly and waited.

You didn't notice, but the window curtain moved to open a tiny crack, where Joel peeked out. A few seconds later the door opened and you caught your breath. There he was, he looked tired and you felt bad for going to talk to him at this time. Shaking your head slightly, you were about to start speaking, but before you could open your mouth, Joel spoke:

"May I help you?" the hoarse voice spoke.

"Oh, good night." you said shyly after a few minutes. "I... I wanted to, uhm–"

"Listen, young lady, I don't mean to be rude, but I just got here and I'm tired." he continued.

You swallowed hard and took the card from behind your back, holding it towards him.

"I-I was hoping to talk, but you're tired, so... here it is, I made it for you." you waved the card but he didn't move to take it. "It's for Valentine's Day."

Your stomach was churning, his expression didn't look very good, he looked very seriously at you, then looked at the card.

"You can take it, it’s for you–” you tried to extend the card to him again.

"I'm sorry, but, did you really think this was a good idea, girl?" the tone of voice was rude now. "Coming over to my house like that and handing me a piece of paper?"

"I– uhm, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you." you swallowed, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I just wanted to give the card I made."

"And why do you want to give me this bullshit so much?"

You had your face lowered but you looked up, slightly wide-eyed at his aggressive sentence, consumed by a wave of angry courage you blurted out:

"I really like you."

"What?" he said mockingly after a few seconds. "Do you really like me?"

"Yes." you answered bravely, still feeling the lump in your throat. "I– I really like you, I mean… I mean I'm in love with you."

Joel stared at your face for a few seconds, as if studying you, then let out a light nasal laugh and said:

"I'm old enough to be your father, girl. Go home and don't bother me again, you seem like the pushy type."

"Listen, please, I've loved you for a long time–"

"What are you talking about, stupid girl?" he looked very angry now, his brow was furrowed and his nostrils were flared. "Love? You don't know what you're talking about."

"If you give me a chance to–"

"Go home, I told you." he said. "There's no chance of that, or anything else, I don't want anything to do with someone like you, understand? Don't bother me anymore."

Then he went back inside and slammed the door in your face.

You knew very early and came home very late to avoid laying eyes on Joel. Maybe she shouldn't have ignored the warnings about him after all, but he was still present in your heart. You shoved the card deep into your dresser, you were embarrassed to look at it now.

Ironically, now that you wanted to be more busy you had less work, winter had arrived and the ground was frozen, so the garden was at a standstill. So you dedicated yourself to the horses and cleaning the mess hall, returning home at almost the same time as always.

You hadn't told Emily what you were going to do and you hadn't told her about the rejection either, she was going to throw it in your face that she had warned you. You felt so stupid now, how could you have thought you had a chance? So much self-esteem.

The days passed quickly and you were thankful for that, but it wasn't like you forgot what happened. Your first interaction with Joel since the incident was when you were cleaning the cafeteria to close, it was already dark and it was practically empty. Mopping the floor repeatedly and sighing every now and then, you didn't see him walk through the large doors.

"Are you guys finishing early?" the thick Texan accent spoke from behind you and you froze momentarily, then turned to him with an effort of blank expression.

"This week, yes, we are down one person." you replied and went back to mopping the floor.

"Okay, thanks." he seemed to hesitate for a moment before walking outside again, and you let out a sharp breath.

The universe seemed to make fun of you and a few days later you had your next interaction with Joel.

Someone covered you in cleaning the cafeteria, so you used the free time to try to fix the rotten steps on your porch. As you repeatedly hammered the nails into place, you felt a poke on your shoulder and stopped your movements, feeling your stomach turn in knots when you saw Joel behind you.

"Can I help you?" you asked, standing up and brushing the snow and dirt off your knees.

"Do you realize it's already night? I need to go out on patrol tomorrow and you're making too much noise." he said rudely.

"Right. I'm sorry." you turned around and started picking up the tools you used, holding them against your chest and seeing the best way to climb without falling.

You had only fixed one of the steps, the one closest to the ground, so you climbed up on it and stretched your leg to try to climb over the others, but the new step wasn't securely fastened and you slipped, letting out a pathetic little scream.

You heard footsteps approaching and his arms lifting you off the ground quickly.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Joel's deep voice asked and you glanced at him sideways.

"I'm fine, thank you." you replied and saw him come closer to rest his hand on the small of your back. "Don't touch me." you exclaimed.

"I just wanted to see if you were hurt." he took a few steps back, looking embarrassed.

"I am well, thank you." you responded quickly and walked away from him, picking up the materials you used earlier again.

You balanced yourself and took a little jump to the porch, entered and closed the door.

#writing #writers on tumblr #fem reader #joel tlou #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader angst #joel x reader #tlou2 #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #rejection #rejection fic

[deansapplepie]

Ya look ridiculous (drabble)

A/N: just painted my nails and it came to me. Not exactly what I imagined, but here's a small treat to you. Also, I'm working on chapter 19 of Till THE DEAD do us part. 🥰

You had just painted your nails, an habit that you had lost along after the outbreak. But now, from time to time you'd make your nails, just to feel a sense of normalcy. It was good to play with the nail polish and all that colors.

And that was what you just did in this moment. You had just painted your nails, beautiful colors of pink and blue, you had to pink nails on each hand, the thumb and the middle, the others a beautiful bright tone of blue. You were happy. Feeling a little like your old self.

You entered the kitchen of the shared home of your found family. They were all reunited for lunch and you arrived all smiley and sat yourself between Maggie and Carol. "Why are you so smiley girl?" The younger one asked you.

" Cause I just did my nails and they look amazing." You said almost shoving yout hands on her face.

"It's pretty and exactly your style." She said gigling at your act. As soon as she said that all the woman on the table asked to see your nails, just as you'd do with your friends back at the old world.

"Ya look ridiculous." You were startled by Daryl's voice. He got up and left the room in all his grumpyness. It didn't surprise you, he was always like that when it was you, but it doesn't mean it hurt any less.

He pounded into you religiously, your face pushed against a pillow and your ass up high. Your nail polished hands held the covers viciously while the pleasure consumed you.

"Ya've been the whole day teasing me with this little pretty hands of yours, ain't you?" The redneck spoke at your ear his hair and stuble sending tingling sensations from your neck direcf to your over estimuladed cunt. "Was that what you wanted? I know it was... ya know pretty damn well how I love that cute hand of yours."

You meowed. "I knew you'd like it."

Neither of you knew why you continued with the act, but it made things so much more exciting... Sneaking around, fooling around all when you thought nobody was noticing or when there was the risk of getting caught... You two wasn't exactly smooth about it, everyone knew, but they let you two have fun pretending you weren't head over heels for each other.

You did do your nails because you liked and to few a little bit normal, but you also knew how we worshiped anything that had to do with you and how he would secretly tell you how pretty your hands looked with your girlie painted nails. Another thing that you knew was that the simplest thing you did , would make him do you in the most sinful and delicious way.

You still had a long long night ahead of you.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #daryl x reader #twd #deansapplepie #daryl fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon x reader smut #daryl dixon x you #daryl x female reader #daryl x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n

[targaryen-dynasty]

THE CURSE OF CURIOSITY.

Aemond Targaryen x twin sister!reader

"While your brother searches the library of the Dragonkeeper Elder for something new to read, you come in contact with some unlabeled fluid. You both learn that it's something meant to aid in the breeding of dragons, however, it also has a unique effect on humans. But lucky for you, your twin is there to help you through the ordeal."

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest, dub con, sex pollen (rather fluid lol), p in v, breeding kink

WORDS: 4 K

NOTES: Hope you enjoy me having literally zero grasp on English. 🤭

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

“It’s far too late for us to be here,” you huff, almost annoyed, as you watch Aemond graze his fingers along the spines of the several books kept in the currently deserted chambers of the Dragonkeeper Elder. “What are we looking for here anyways?”

The room is barely lit by anything else than just a handful of candles. Your twin holds a lantern of some sort in one hand, using it to make out the writings that are carved on the books backs. 

When there doesn’t immediately come an answer from him, you start to slowly walk around the room, inspecting its decor. “I have exhausted the castle’s libraries, and hope to take something of their collection for my own,” he murmurs, carefully selecting two books. 

You stop in your tracks and turn to look at him. Although you’re just a few moments younger than him, sharing the same attributes with your long, silver hair and lilac eyes, you have a much gentler nature than he does, one that doesn’t lend itself to the same mischief you had pursued together as children anymore. 

“And you couldn’t have just taken Floris with you? You ought to wed, and doing something together would do no harm to your future union. One sparsely sees you two around court,” you note, slightly annoyed your brother chose to wake you instead of his betrothed. 

Knowing all too well that just the mention of the betrothal is going to set him off, you choose to play with fire. If your brother wants your company, he’ll have to put up with your teasing. And just like expected, the notion of being forced into a marriage he doesn’t want to be in irritates him, audible in the sigh he releases. His resentment of the situation has become worse over time as he feels more and more suffocated by the ordeal.

“The girl is as dull as stones. Besides,” he replies with a shrug, “she knows nothing about our family’s history, much less about dragons.” The topic of dragons is something your twin is very passionate about, and you know that the fact that his wife-to-be cares so little about his passion infuriates him. It might be one of the main reasons for his dislike of her. “I have no desire to have Floris at my side any more than she does me.”

His annoyance is palpable, but you don’t feel bad about making it worse. For all the hours he has spent teasing, taunting and annoying you while you grew up together, he gets it back twice and three times over. And although he hasn’t spoken it out loud, you know you’re one of the few people he trusts blindly to be himself around. 

“That aside, it would be foolish to read with Floris,” he continues, your silence coaxing him to speak more, “as all she does is gossip with her friends and prattle on about pointless nonsense. You of all people know best how I feel about this match.”

“Floris isn’t so bad, you know,” you defend with a low voice. “And you’ve barely tried to get to know her. Surely you can find at least one thing to like about her. If you did, you might just see she’s not as terrible as you’ve decided.” If you both have to spend your days withering away in marriages sealed by your father and mother, you at least could find a little solace knowing your twin wasn’t as miserable in his. 

Aemond sighs in frustration. “You sound just like mother,” he comments dryly, finally moving to look at you from over his shoulder. “Can you really say that you like her? She is dull and naive. I am certain I couldn’t find anything to like about her even if I had all night. There is nothing for me to like about her. Nothing at all.”

Finding yourself at somewhat of a loss of words at this, you open and close your mouth without any words leaving it. Part of you wants to disagree with your twin, as Floris hasn’t been entirely unpleasant to spend time with at court, which makes Aemond’s dislike for her appear entirely without reason to you. On the other hand, you’ve known your brother long and well enough to know when he is resolute about something. 

“Just promise me that you won’t be a terrible husband to her. Even if you don’t like her, don’t make your lifes awful,” you finally blurt out. 

As you allow your gaze to trail through the chambers once more, you spot some small vessels standing lined up on the desk in the far corner with books and scrolls littered around them. You don’t wait for Aemond to reply as you make your way over, determined to inspect the small containers. The liquid inside of them resembles milk of the poppy, although it’s slightly more permeable to light when you hold it to one of the candles. 

You hardly think about the dangers coming with it when you open the lid to inhale a whiff of the fluid. Not smelling entirely unpleasant, it still has you scrunching your nose as a slight burning grows prominent in your nose and throat. 

Placing the vessel back down rather quickly, it stands too close to the edge of the desk. You’re not quick enough as it falls to the ground with a clatter, the vessel shattering into pieces and the pale liquid spreading across the floor. 

“By the Seven,” you mumble, sinking to the ground to collect some of the larger shards. 

The sound of breaking glass and your sighing is enough to catch your brother's attention again. Where he has read the spines of the books before, he makes his way over to the source of the commodation now. “You shouldn’t have dropped that,” he comments dryly, which prompts you to shoot him a heated glare. “Oh, you don’t say, mh?” you reply, your voice laced with sarcasm. 

Reaching for another shard, you pull your hand back with a hiss when it cuts your finger. “Ouch!” you exclaim and rise to your feet, soon enough spotting the crimson oozing out of the cut. 

Despite his annoyance at your clumsiness, Aemond’s good eye is drawn to the cut you have given yourself. It’s no deep wound, but even the hint of your blood makes something akin to guilt bubble in his stomach. “What were you doing with that?” he inquires, as he takes your hand to inspect your finger, nodding towards the vessels still standing on the desk. 

You watch him twist and turn your hand to have the perfect look of the wound, the stinging pain suddenly not too bad with his warm skin on yours. “I… I just wanted to see what they keep here. It is unusual for anyone other than the maesters to store unmarked liquids,” you reply, hissing as Aemond pinches the cut finger a tad too tightly. “I shall see Maester Mellos. Mayhaps this needs stitching.”

“That’s an excellent idea.”

Aemond fetches the books he has chosen from the collection, holding them under his arm as he brings the other to you to place a hand to the small of your back, guiding you out of the Dragonpit. 

On your request, the cut on your finger is stitched by Maester Mellos, although he has voiced that it wasn’t quite necessary. But something tells you the opposite, especially when you catch him staring at your face and checking your temperature more than once. “Is everything alright, maester?” you ask him with a soft voice, a yawn following. 

Aemond towers over the both of you, carefully watching each move of the needle in the elder’s hands, just waiting for him to make a wrong move that’s meant to hurt you – he’s familiar with being stitched up after all. 

The maester seems to be out of his mind, and only reacts as he hears you say his name. “Maester Mellos?” 

His eyes are wide, but he nods quickly. “Yes… yes, princess. The wound should be able to heal calmly now.” 

He is quick to pack his utensils up again, and even faster to leave your chambers at once. And while Aemond hurries after the old man, trying to catch up on him outside of your chambers, you don’t wait for any of them to return again with sleep coming over you.

The crackling of the fireplace is the only thing audible when you stir awake, a sheen of sweat covering your skin, making your nightgown cling to it uncomfortably. Your body feels as though it’s on fire when you squirm from one side to the other, not finding back to sleep. A tingling spreads in your loins, and each time your thighs squeeze together, it surges up your spine. 

“Gods be good,” you whine, utterly bewildered with the feeling of liquid fire coursing through your veins. 

Aemond not so silently rises from one of the chairs close to the fireplace, and comes closer to the bed, though, careful not to startle or frighten you as you regain your bearings. He has hoped you’d sleep through the entire ordeal and wake up as if nothing has happened, but that hope slowly dissipates with each passing moment. 

“How are you feeling?” your twin asks, concern in his voice. Suddenly, hearing his voice allures you, and doesn’t diminish the burning at the apex of your legs. 

As you clench your thighs together again, it releases some of the tension your body holds, and makes you whine in despair. “Aemond…” you pant, your chest rising and falling with your heavy breaths. “What are you doing here?”

The thin sheets covering your body do little to conceal what is happening beneath, and your brother just assumes it’s your way of trying to suppress your bodily urges ignited by the pale liquid you came in contact with before. 

“I…” his usual confidence and boldness completely deserts him at the state you’re in, and he can barely find the words to tell you what he’s been told by Maester Mellos. 

As he watches you writhe and writhe about on the bed, he’s unsure of how much longer he can just stand there and do nothing. But his concern and love for you cause him to make the decision to act, approaching you and reaching out to grasp your hands. 

At the contact, the feeling of his warm hands fully engulfing yours, it’s like something overcomes your mind and body, luring you in to move, staring up at him with wide eyes as you sit on your haunches. “Dohaeragon nyke… kostilus,” you whimper, strands of your silver hair clinging to the damp sides of your face. “Ziry ōdrikagon.. sīr bāne. Nyke sepār – dohaeragon nyke, lēkia.” Yet you don’t quite know what exactly you’re begging for. Help me… please. It hurts… so hot. I just – help me, brother. 

In the dim light of the candles, you spot his eye widening as you shift and squirm, looking up at him in such a vulnerable state with your innocent eyes, pleading for him to help you through your ordeal although you have no idea of what’s wrong with you right now. He can’t help but notice how your hair clings to your skin, seeming as if you’ve just bathed, and that your movements seem to contribute to its dampness. 

“Mellos has told me what the fluid is that the Elder keeps in his chambers,” he states, trying to stay calm and not let your state affect him too much. 

But with his proximity, all effort of you to process what he’s saying is fruitless. You pull on his hands, as if you want to encourage him to join you in bed, and when he doesn’t budge, you rise on your knees, and start to fidget with the buttons of his coat – solely driven by your urges. “And that is?” you mumble, not really listening.  

His cheeks run hot when you start to undo the buttons, and his hands capture yours once again to put a stop to it, making you pout. With furrowed brows, his grip finally has you looking up at him. “It’s something used to aid in breeding the dragons,” Aemond states. “He told me it’s also used to increase their stamina and to make them more…” he trails off, his body slowly growing tense as the implication of what he’s going to say settles into his mind. “... receptive to breeding.”

“Mh–Mh,” you hum almost nonchalantly, and watch completely mesmerized as your fingers graze along his, the warmth and softness of his skin only intensifying the tingling in your loins. Aemond is hesitant, unsure whether or not what you’re doing is entirely due to the potion’s effect, or if there is genuinely some desire for him on your part. 

You lick your lips and free your hands from Aemond’s to shrug the opened coat off his shoulders. The fabric of his tunic is pinched between your fingers as you tug on it once again to beg for him to join you. With him taking his sweet time, you find yourself clenching your thighs every now and then to soothe the aching burning at the apex of them.

“He also informed me that ‘tis necessary for someone to… help you through it,” he murmurs quietly, his voice almost sounding shaky as he speaks, “... for it will burn you from the inside out if not.”

Even though you’re fully acting on your body's desires, you do notice the way his widened eye trails down to your thighs, lingering there for a moment before it returns to yours. 

You don’t give a verbal response to his words, and instead, your only reactions are subtle ones. Nodding your head slowly, as if you’ve understood what he is implying, your hands squeeze his tunic further into his chest. He can practically see your body tensing with each movement of your fingers, almost as if you’re trying to hold back. 

With your eyes firmly locked with his now, you slowly trail your hands beneath his tunic, pushing it up to remove that as well from his body to get further access to him – if it wasn’t for him not raising his arms. 

Exhaling a deep breath, you sit back on your haunches. His reluctance does little to quell the fire raging within you, no, it only fuels to make you even more desperate. The lacey hem of your nightgown rides up your thighs as you spread them, and fully exposes your undergarments the moment you bring your hand between your legs. A breathy whimper falls past your lips as your fingers finally make contact with your clothed cunt, and then something akin to mischief flickers in your lilac eyes. 

“And… will you help me, brother? Or shall I ask Jacaerys for help instead? We ought to wed in a moon's turn after all,” your voice is honeyed as you speak, dripping with feigned innocence. “But you don’t want that, do you? That’s why you’ve stayed.”

You spot the exact moment his breath hitches in his throat. He suddenly feels a wave of heat overcoming him, your words triggering something in him that is more than just the usual desire to protect his younger sister, something primal. You sound and look so vulnerable asking for his help, secretly begging for him and him only. 

Intertwining your fingers with his, the intensity of your grip increasing as your senses become more heightened, your twin finally moves as you pull him onto the bed. The mattress dips beneath his weight as you watch him come closer, and when he is close enough, you reach and pull him down onto you in a quick motion. You don’t waste a second more and lock your lips with his, your hand slowly traveling down his back. But before you can grab his tunic and pull it over his head, Aemond pushes you back to lie flatly on the bed, pinning your wrists above your head. His eye burns with hunger as he gazes down at you, visible even in the dim light, and it makes you yearn for more. 

“Well, if I chose to leave you here to your own devices, would you crawl to your betrothed for help? I do not think so,” he says, his voice taking over a mocking tone. “No, in fact, I’m certain you would come to my chambers instead.”

When he doesn’t touch you, you try to wrap your legs around his body to grind yourself against him, but Aemond is quick to catch your hip with one hand, keeping your body still as it's pinned to the mattress.

“Sir, dohaeragon nyke,” you beg, voice shaky enough it comes close to a whimper. But when you notice that speaking in the tongue of your ancestors is not having any effect on him at all, you choose to coax him to tend to you in the Common Tongue. “Touch me, Aemond. Help me… please.” Now, help me.

Aemond is silent for a moment, visibly dragging his eye over your squirming frame. One hand still holds your wrists above your head, while the other slowly but surely releases your hip. “I shall take care of you,” he reassures you. “But you will have to let me, do you understand?”

You gaze up at him with wide eyes and slowly nod your head, only for you to pounce on him the moment your wrists are released. The tunic is gone as soon as your body collides with his, causing a strained gasp to leave your twin’s lips. While just the thoughts of his warm skin on yours have incite your mind already, seeing his bare chest sets your body alight. 

His demeanor changes in the blink of an eye, and he has never treated you as roughly as he does when he pushes you off of him. It leaves you dumbfounded for a moment, more so when he moves between your parted legs, towering over you. 

“Look how dull this fluid has made you,” he mocks, the condescending tone of his voice sending a shiver up your spine. Aemond notices that you’re not shying away from him, no, you keen at that. “Just because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”

“If I help you,” he warns, “no one else, let alone that bastard of a nephew, is ever allowed to touch you again, do you understand?”

It might be the liquid-induced state, or the despair to have him do anything to you already, but you’re far too eager to nod at his words. 

Aemond’s hand wanders below the hem of your nightgown to heartily fist your undergarments and peel them off of you. He can already feel that the linen is soaked with your arousal, but still can’t stop himself from licking his lips as he sees your now exposed cunt glistening in the light of the candles. 

“Now, we do not want you to suffer any longer, hm?” he asks. 

And you nod once again. “Gods, yes, please. I need you, Aemond.”

You don’t have to beg him any longer. He undoes the laces in the front of his breeches and pulls out his throbbing cock, painfully hard and aching to be buried inside of you. It’s slightly curved and thick, and if you have to guess, you’d say that you need both hands to pleasure him, and even then there’d still be a bit of him that would be left abandoned. 

Aemond wastes no time in lining himself up with your entrance, pushing into you as you both moan in unison. You don’t expect him to set up a merciless pace almost immediately upon fully bottoming out, but you’re not disappointed either. 

While you’ve been able to talk before, he’s quickly reduced you to a whimpering and whining mess, relishing in the delicious burning of accommodating his sheer size. 

“Does it help?” your twin asks through gritted teeth, desperately trying to keep his sounds of pleasure at bay. But you’ve been fucked into a stupor by him already, not even able to keep your eyes open. “Mh-mh,” you hum. 

Putting some of his weight onto you, Aemond’s hand finds your throat like the most treasured necklace you only take off to sleep, taking up the entirety of your neck and leaving no room for you to shift even the slightest. 

It was subtle at first, but the merciless pace slowly changes into something more determined, his hips rolling with each thrust as if he wants to make sure the tip of his cock really brushes your sweet spot every time. He’s seemingly spurred on by the way you’ve lost all inhibitions, not that the fluid allowed you to have any in the first place, and the wanton moans that spill past your lips. 

One of your hands grabs his wrist, keeping his hand around your throat, while the other finds solace on his shoulder, gripping it tightly. Your nails dig into his alabaster skin, and you’re sure that crescent shaped marks will bloom there not long after, staking your claim on him. 

“But you need more,” Aemond grunts, and you can’t do more than whimper a pathetic string of yesses. “The only thing that will truly help you is for me to fill you up with my seed, to breed you.”

Your head tips back in plain bliss, and you’re not sparing one thought to the possible repercussions of him putting a child in you. If anything, there is something buried deeply inside of you that has waited for this moment. You have waited for this moment. You grew up thinking you’d marry your twin one day, only for the rising tensions inside of the family to force you to marry your nephew instead as the final straw to mend the chasm. 

Aemond’s stamina doesn’t seem to be able to handle the way your body reacts to him and his words – not when a renewed wave of your arousal drips from your cunt at the mere thought of you carrying his child. It’s running thin, ready to burst at any given moment, hence he brings a deft finger to your pearl, rubbing it with frantic movements that should bring you to peak just in time with him. 

The pressure brought to your pearl has your body squirming, not anticipating it and the shiver of pleasure that comes with it. You arch your back and moan, yet a tight squeeze of your throat is enough to bring your attention back to him.

“Do you want that?” he pants, dark blown eyes fixed with yours. “Want me to put a babe in you?” It might be his way to ask for your reassurance, and while your body’s reaction should be enough with your walls clenching around him so tightly, he stills wants to hear your voice. 

Your cheeks grow hot as his words finally seem to settle in your hazed mind, a whiny ‘yes’ slipping past your lips. “Fill me up, Aemond… please. I want it,” you all but beg, your voice croaked with him squeezing your throat. 

The confession flips a switch inside of you that allows you to let go, your body shattering beneath Aemond with a pathetic whine. He relishes in the way your walls flutter and spasm all over him, utterly mesmerized as relief etches itself into your features. 

With a groan, the first wanton sound of pleasure you’ve heard of him, Aemond spends himself inside of you. He connects your lips in a heated kiss that has you swallowing down each grunt and groan he unleashes. Working you both through the blissful highs, his hips only stop once he’s sure he’s fucked his seed as deep as possible, determined to put a child in you. 

Aemond topples over into the vacant space next to you, his breeches soaked with your arousal and his chest heaving with his breaths. 

The sudden loss of friction makes you whine at first, but is quickly overshadowed by the feeling of relief. “Thank you,” you whisper through heavy breaths, turning your head to look at him. 

“I won’t leave now,” he says softly, although there is a linger of mischief in his voice. “I would be remiss not to aid my sister in her hour of utmost desperation… so, I shall stay the night just to make sure you really get through it.”

Aemond Taglist: @persephonerinyes @dr-aegon @schniiipsel @thekinslayed @baizzhu @legitalicat

#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond stannies #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond imagine #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #hotd fic #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic

[c4ttheart]

zuko x fem!reader, angst, 1.6k wc (whoopsi)

supposed to be a gn reader but i put that they went to the royal fire academy for girls ; also timeline makes no sense LMFAO sorry ab that

summary : he says he loves you. that’s not fair, that’s not something best friends should say to each other. but his favourite colour is blue, and so is yours.

"zuko" you breathe out, "you’re back."

he furrows his brows when he hears you approach. he notices the hint of surprise in your voice, and somehow, he doesn’t know if it’s a good thing.

a mumbled "yeah" in response leaves his lips, and you smile. you quirk your lips upward as if he had never left. as if the last time he saw you wasn’t three years ago.

you want to ask him more, hold his hand and drag him through the gardens or sneak out into the city buying things you would never even need. but he turns away, leaving you to stand there in the middle of a palace that isn’t yours. zuko did not return with the avatar. zuko returned with blood on his hands, the price to pay for the victory of your kingdom. but that doesn’t feel right. that is not the zuko you know. then again, they really aren’t that different, three year gap or not, as they soak in the glory of what they have done.

why does he think it’s an honourable thing to have caused the demise of a city ? all that for what, the privilege of bathing in warm water and gold again ?

he ignores you throughout the month that he is here. you thought you were best friends, but apparently his stay at sea made him forget. one could say you’re not on the same footing anymore, since he is promised to the throne.

and it’s fine, you are fine, you can deal with whatever temper tantrum he is having, or the fact that he doesn’t have time for you. you don’t know what he went through, so you try to be fair. but then mai comes into the picture, and all of a sudden you’re fourteen crying on the floor of your dorm at the royal fire academy for girls because word is out that prince zuko has lost his agni kai. and you didn’t even have the time to say goodbye.

it’s not like you were dating. but he can’t just do whatever he’s doing. you waited for him to come back. every day. you still referred to him as your best friend and fed the turtle ducks in his absence. and he just waltzs back into your life and breaks your heart again.

mai is a sweet girl. she’s only a year younger than you. you know she’s a good student. but she doesn’t deserve to replace you. she doesn’t know his favourite colour and why it’s his favourite. she doesn’t know half of the things about him that complete your personality.

maybe that’s how you find yourself thumping on zuko’s door. it’s probably three in the morning, and you’re tired with red rims under yours eyes. he opens the door after some time, with messy hair and his room lit with candlelight. when was the last time you saw him ? he looks so real, so close and you are so, so grateful that he is here and that he is him, that you break down. what was once fury is replaced with desolation as he looks at you funny in front of the door that leads to his quarters.

"i uhm, thought you were at the academy." he mumbles awkwardly. the opening is only wide enough for you to see his face. why is he hiding ? what is this conversation topic ? when have you become such a stranger ? his favourite colour is blue. so is yours.

you sniffle. "it’s the middle of summer."

"oh."

he nods and moves to shut you off again. your tears run thicker against your cheeks.

"you can’t close the door zuko. you told me you loved me. you can’t keep on turning your back on the problems that require something else than military attention."

you don’t even know how you manage to speak the words correctly, considering the hiccups and the sniffles and the ugly crocodile tears. you don’t know how you manage to speak so correctly considering the state of your heart.

he scoffs. "you’re the one that left me."

"i did not leave you, zuko. i chose to stay." you laugh and croak out.

"that’s the same fucking thing." he whispers under his breath, his eyes rolling every time you blink water from your eyes.

it’s okay. you know he still loves you, somewhere inside. deep deep down, you know he does. it’s not wishful thinking, because his favourite colour is blue, and so is yours. blue like the waves back in ember island, blue like the water the turtle ducks swim in, blue like the sky in which he wishes he could soar. blue like the flames he never got.

"you can leave now, y’know ? " he speaks again, every single drop of formality run dry on his lips when he sees you. is that a good thing ?

and yellow used to be your favourite colour. not his, yours. yellow like the sun, yellow like the small buttercups, yellow like the jewellery your mother would wear. yellow like his eyes. and then all of a sudden, zuko came along, and yellow morphed into blue. what he liked, you liked. what he did, you did. what he said, you said. somewhere along the way you forgot yourself in the name of love. and all that for what ?

"i-i don’t understand, zuko." you hiccup. you try to remember the warmth of the yellow sun but all you can focus on is the harsh yellow in his eyes. it looks much less appealing than blue.

"god, what more is there to understand ? people move on, (name). maybe it’s time you do the same. grow up a bit, and maybe you’ll get a real personality."

you gasp.

"oh and, it’s prince zuko to you."

this horrible feeling settles in your stomach. like needles, piercing over and over again. or a dam being broken by a tidal wave. you do not feel good. and he is dressed in red, like his curtains, like his door, like the walls and floors and windows and carpets and when you finally reach the gardens you have never felt so nauseous watching the fountain blue.

when you glance up, you realise the sky is red too.

your tears are all dried up now. you should go home, probably. but the sun is rising and the last thing you want to do is let your parents know you snuck out, that you’re not at all at the friend’s house you were supposed to be at. you’re seventeen, yet you are still so reliant on your parents. you should take control of your life, you think, but you still have a favourite colour and you still like the same guy than when you were a child. maybe zuko is right, you should grow up.

best friends should never be able to love each other. it ruins lives, love. you think it would have been best if zuko had never loved you at all. but his favourite colour is blue, and so is yours, because your personality is completely attached to his. maybe you loved him too before you even knew it.

you watch people get up and about from the tower you’re in. you don’t know which one it is, just that it is high off ground. when a bird squeaks, you bang your head against the wall. messenger hawks scare you.

something falls besides you, and it sounds light. a key, sitting still and yellow on the middle of the paved floor. it’s an ordinary key, yet it looks too unused to be one leading to the bird cages. you nervously look around, with puffy eyes and dried cheeks, because you should not be doing this but god, do you need something to get your mind off zuko.

fuck him and his little girlfriend. fuck him and his petty ways, fuck him and his fancy baths, fuck him and his golden eyes. he should have told you if he hated you. if he didn’t wish to be best friends anymore. you would have taken it easier than now. but he just vanished, and when he came back, he wasn’t himself anymore. maybe he lost himself like the people of ba sing se lost their lives because of him.

you spot some sort of square locker imbedded in the wall. it looks quite private but the key fits when you insert it, and when you turn it the door silently opens. then something falls on your face. it’s small and not very heavy. looks like a messy envelope when you pick it up. you open it subconsciously, like it was meant to find you somehow. maybe it was, because your heart drops when you read who it is addressed to. you skip the contents only for what you thought were your dry eyes pour again.

inside the box, is a year worth of letters. they’re all from zuko. and they’re all sealed with blue wax.

you don’t speak with zuko the following week, but rumours spread fast and all of a sudden the whole country knows he’s gone. it’s alright. you didn’t get to say goodbye the first time, so why would you now ? when you go back to your dorm at the academy the next day, pretty petunia flowers sit on your bed, sealed with a blue ribbon. you clench your jaw.

it is quite a feeble gift, but it is better than nothing at all. you keep them in a vase on the windowsill, even when you learn they mean resentment, because his favourite colour is blue, and so is yours.

it always will be.

i like read iver this once to make sure some sentences made sense that is it

this was supposed to b fluff but uh,,,,,

#anime x reader #atla zuko #atla #atla x reader #atla x you #atla x y/n #zuko x y/n #zuko x you #zuko x reader #avatar zuko #fire lord zuko #prince zuko #zuko #avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbenber netflix #avatar 2009 #avatar live action

[the-midnight-blooms]

Drunken Monologue

pairing: kim hongjoong x reader

AU: modern

word count: 3.7k

ATEEZ as angst tropes series:

Hongjoong | Seonghwa | Yunho | Yeosang | San | Mingi | Wooyoung | Jongho

masterlist

Trope: Friends to Lovers to Strangers

She watches as they walk out of their place with another woman slung around his arm. The woman he left for, she's so perfect she cannot help but agree with him when he declared he did not love her anymore. How could he? She was everything his first love was not- no more, no less. Yet, the place she once held in his heart? Gone, not even deserving of the title 'friend', displaced like the weakest metal in a chemical reaction.

She didn't mean to cross Hongjoong on the street anyway, on her way home from taxing day at work her feet took her to the one place that brought her more comfort than home. Second to bookshop, it was his arms. She was entitled to none of it now. Nights of endless scrolling over the internet for the next best cheapest place to buy novels but nothing came close to the bookshop she’d gone to in the duration of her childhood, the same bookshop that supported her through her academia.

The distant memory of them both scribbling away in books, endlessly typing on their computers for hours on end into the night gnawed at her. At times she felt like giving up, why, oh, why had she chosen such an academically challenging degree? For her parents’ validation of course, despite this Hongjoong supported her-pushed her to continue.

“I can’t be bothered anymore Joong.” She whined into her pillow, letting out a loud groan that made him scoff as he twirled the pencil between his fingers.

“Let’s make a deal, you get over 80 on that exam and I’ll buy you that plain vanilla ice cream you like.” Her eyes perked up at ‘vanilla ice cream’ she shook her head vigorously and then got to work sifting through pages of her notes and exam questions she had yet to. Peering her eyes over the top of her screen, she gazed at her best friend hunched over in his seat punching numbers into a calculator, with furrowed brows, the concentrated look on his face making her heart melt. While they had been best friends for a long time, she had harboured feelings for the boy since college and even through their transgression into university, the feelings just never seemed to dissipate.

“Oh, and Hongjoong-nah? Vanilla ice cream is not plain.”

“Whatever you say, love.” The term of endearment making her heart flutter, she had yet to convince herself that he called everyone ‘love’, hence it was never really special when he said it to her. A week had passed and before she knew it, she sprinted down the university halls, clusters of students who were once engrossed in their own conversations turning to look at her. With a panting breath, she skidded at the end of the corridor shoving her sheet of paper in Hongjoong’s face, he himself was once invested in his conversation with Jongho.

“Look” she urged, and he took the paper from her hands his eyes scanning over it, fixating on the mark. 90.

“That’s amazing! Didn’t you say this was the hardest module too?” Shaking her head eagerly, she threw her head back in triumph. Hongjoong sought the way her hair fell down her shoulders, the sound of laughter like a melody he wanted to capture in a tune and play on repeat. “Well, I guess I owe you ice cream now.” Picking up his canvas bag from the floor, he bid Jongho goodbye and made his way to the exit.

“Do you want to come with us Jongho?” She offered, to which the younger boy declined sending Hongjoong a knowing smirk from across the corridor. Shaking his head, Hongjoong waited until she made her way to him then hand in hand, they ran to the ice cream parlour before it closed.

She didn’t like vanilla ice cream anymore. It wasn’t the plainness of it, like Hongjoong had always suggested. It was the memory of it, the association of it with him. Every book they read, song they listened to, food they ate, place they went to-she’d grown to have a distaste for. It seemed pathetic, and it was but every time their song played on the radio a pang settled into deepest pits of her heart.

Drunken men push past her on the same street, where now Hongjoong and her stand two metres apart. He senses familiarity in the air around him, head whipping around scouring his surroundings. He knows them. They shift around slowly, as if they are moving without conscience towards him. He wants to stumble to them, inebriated by their intimacy as he once was when he sauntered through his hallways, years ago heavily drunk from a work celebration party. Hongjoong's dragged away by his girlfriend, every nook and cranny of his heart filled with adoration for her yet long ago he was being dragged away by someone else.

With a heavy puff, she pushed Hongjoong onto his sofa a long groan released from his lips as he lazily outstretched his legs before him. So drawn by her beauty, he lifts his arm to caress her cheek. With a smile she gently brushes it away, moving his leg to sit on the remnants of the seat that is not covered by his body.

"The things I do for you." she muttered under his breath, he caught the whispers of it, a weary smile forms across his perfect features.

"And I love you for it. I love you more than sea loves the moon." A laugh escaped from her lips, could he get any more drunk?

"Just say thank you, Hongjoong. This isn't a poetry reading." shaking her head, she pats his head before getting up. The words strike a nerve, he grabs at her wrist to gnaw at her attention. Suddenly, he looks more attentive and alive as if he wasn't drinking to his hearts content to fill up the hole of solitude that swallowed him.

"I'm being serious." resting her hand his chest to feel the racing of his heart, "This only beats for you. I feel so lonely without you, incomplete." he breathed out, latching onto her hand as if she would disappear if he let her go.

"Hongjoong, you're drunk. You don't know what you're saying." A sharp prick of her throat throbbed, a tickle arising in her nose. Love was just a game to him, right?

"They say a drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts."

"I wouldn't believe you, even if you were sober."

"Why not?" he inquired, he sat up this time not letting go of her hand her body gravitating towards him.

"Because- you know what, no you're too drunk for this conversation right now."

"No, I wanna know. Why don't you believe me?"

"Hongjoong, you've never wanted a relationship. You've never wanted to be someone else's. I always have, I want to belong to someone. I want to get married and have children, bicker with my husband, listen to my teenagers' tantrums. I want it all. You don't." She recounted from all the times he had dismissed notions of settling down and having a married life. He'd fraternised with many women, much to her dismay, but those relationships had held no true meaning. They were in his bed one hour and gone the next, replaced by another. Truthfully, Hongjoong never felt content with the 'relationships' he had but the slow sinking feeling he felt when he was devoid of completeness ate at him. He wanted to feel whole and he felt whole with her.

"What if it's because I've never wanted it with anyone but you?" Silence rooted in the warm air; she'd open his window before she left. Nothing but staring into each other’s eyes for minutes on end. Hongjoong awaited her response, it was all the alcohol that had riled so much energy within to confess his feelings to her. Those which he had felt since they were children, teasing each other in the playground to adults fixated over creating contented lives for themselves.

"Then tell me when you wake up. Tell me how much you've wanted me. Once I'm yours, I'm yours forever."

It seemed like it would be forever. Nights spent under the cover of the twinkling stars: talking until they were too sleep deprived to go to work, running through the park tearing out handfuls of grass whilst chucking them at each other. Just all the things they did as friends, but the moments much more intimate when they'd fall on top of each other faces barely inches away feeling their heated breath tickling their noses.

“I hope our kids aren’t that naughty.” She almost spat out the drink in her mouth, craning to give Hongjoong a shocked look paired with a sort of shy smile forming on her lips. They sat on the vast lush green field, sun beaming down on their figures- his figure illuminated like it was it was carved out of the sun itself.

“Our kids?” Hongjoong tore his gaze away from the children shooting their parents with water guns to her, nodding ever so casually.

“Four kids-,”

“Four? Mr Kim, will you be giving birth to these children? Will you be walking up in the middle of the night to change their nappies?” She interrupted, holding back a laugh.

“Yes, I’ll change all of their nappies. I’ll wake up in the middle of the night to rock them back to sleep. Take them to school anymore, brush our daughters’ hair. Oh! We have to have matching family outfits…” and so Hongjoong often rambled about the perfect family life, his lover staring at him as if he was an angel descended from the highest heavens. If he was an angel, how did wound himself on earth no less how did he wound up as hers? To have that thought again, to stare into his eyes and get intoxicated by the profundity of his sweet soul. His love so addicting she woke up with cold sweats, hands outstretched as if he would come to her in the cold dead of the night, encircling her into his arms again as if he never left.

“What should we name our daughter?” Hongjoong piped up one day, out of sheer curiosity. His head stuck through the doorway of the living room, watching his lover sat in front of the television but her attention attached to the book in her hands.

“Hmm, Kim…” she trailed off, thinking of all the girl names her friends had already taken up. “Kim Dahye.” She settled on, he slumped onto the seat next to her resting his head on her shoulder. "Because she'll be the kindest soul to exist. And if we have a boy, we'll name him Kim Suho, our guardian angel."

"Sounds like a plan Mrs Kim." A blush crept on her cheeks, her cheek resting on his head hands entwined as the hum of the machine bled into the comfortable silence of the room.

She couldn’t remember how it had happened. What great sin she had she committed that Hongjoong felt so repulsed by the sight of her? As if staying would have killed him. Despite the busy hours of both of their working days, the tiresome repetitive life of their schedules, for a while they found comfort in each other- they were each other’s escape from the dreaded conformity to society. How had it gone unnoticed the way he cancelled on her a number of times. Ignoring her calls, leaving her messages on read? The distance between them whenever they were together. Holding her hands but not looking at her. Looking at her as she spoke about her day but not listening to her. It was tolerance, really, she’d put up with all of his ignorance as long as she could say ‘he’s mine.’

“We need to talk.” His reticent voice drifting into her bedroom, she sat up from her slumped position. A soft smile painted on her lips, how long had it been since she had been the listener and he was the talker? He slumped down on the foot of her bed, gradually meeting her gaze. A breath hitched in his throat. He loved her once. He could not breath without her. Got drunk on her presence. Then he had met her, the other woman. She was a drug so addicting. Suddenly, his childhood love was a weak narcotic incapable of exhilarating him as she once did. "I don't love you anymore." He went straight for the punchline.

"I-what happened? Why?" she questioned, there was so much more to ask but the words clogged up her throat as her brain scrambled for traction trying to process the sudden declaration. His eyes shut close for a few moments, plucking up the courage to tell her.

"I found someone else. I thought it unfair to keep you here, next to me while I'm hooked to someone else." Tears blurred her vision, limbs shivering. Pressing her back up against her headboard, she hugged her legs, face dug between her knees.

"What happened to feeling incomplete without me? What happened to wanting to be married? What happened to having children?" she questioned, anger prescient. Fury overtook the despair that momentarily possessed her, was it all a fever dream? Was any part of their relationship sincere?

"Believe me when I say I wanted it all with you, but now I can't feel a thing between us. The bridge to you has collapsed-" He reached for hands to console her; she yanked them towards her gripping onto skin too reluctant to let go. Any moment now if she did let go, he would leave.

"So then find another way to me. Fight for us. Don't tell me this relationship was just a drunken mistake, or I was just used to fill that sorry hole in your heart." Perhaps I really was lonely and you were there for me, mistaking my gratitude for love. But Hongjoong was misinterpreting his emotions. It was love. He did love her. He had just been allured by someone else's physicality that her had forgotten that the one woman who loved him endlessly, flaws and all, was sat in front of him.

"Don't make this harder for me. You deserve someone else, someone who wants you as equally as you want them." Biting down on her lip, a tear slipped from her eyes snapping her head away from him as his hands left her weakened hold. Soundlessly, he left from the room. The soft shutting of the door had triggered her, she bawled as a part of her soul crippled away trailing after Hongjoong who ambled down the street to his next love.

Her body thudded against another on that busy street as the sun dipped beneath the sky, streetlights flickering every now and then. So lost in her yearning for the past, her spatial awareness had been decapitated.

"Oh God, I'm sorry." Her phone flung out of her grasp, clattering to the floor. Both figures reached down for the phone, fingers meeting as they did. Grabbing at her phone, she rose so did the other figure in sync. "I'm really sorry, I should have watched where I was going-" He called out her name, their eyes instantaneously meeting.

It was Wooyoung, a fellow classmate from her time at university. He did not look any different from the charismatic soul that had cheered her up after every difficult lecture that seemed incomprehensible. A dimpled smile manifested across his pink lips, the familiar excitement of seeing an old friend filling him.

"I haven't seen you in ages! How are you?" He began to bombard her with questions. Within seconds she was, too, dragged away by another in the opposite direction the strings between the old lovers, thinning as they transcended deeper into the own lives.

A high-pitched squeal infiltrated the park, a small body dashing through the familiar fields.

“I’m gonna get you.” She cooed, in an infantile like manner as the child attempted to sprint as fast as his little legs could carry him. At last, she swooped him up by the legs, twirling him around the cool wind assisting her. They shared a laugh before she attacked his face with kisses. His father approached behind, wide smile complacent slipping an arm around his son, cocooning him in his embrace. The boy squirmed in his father’s arms, begging to be let go. He let him go, the couple dawdling after his child as he ran to the slides accompanying the other children inhabiting it.

“The sentence, from Mrs Jung?” She contested. She recalled the horror in her friend’s voice on learning that both her husband and son were indulging in eating sweet delicacies every night before bed-not even bothering to brush their teeth at that.

“Death.” He joked back, they shared a comfortable laugh. “Joae’s coming back from Japan on Sunday. Thank you for helping take care of Gohyun.” She waved him off declaring it was the most she could do for a friend that was there when she needed someone the most.

At the other end of the park, two old friends walked down a cobbled path on their way to the play area where Hongjoong’s daughter persisted. Cups of warm coffee encased within their hands, conversations of the past enticing them. They both paused as they found his daughter, Kim Dayhe, playing with another boy around a similar age to her. The sight brought back a nostalgic memory of the girl he used to run around parks with as a child.

“Jung Gohyun!” A feminine voice called, a figure moved closer to the children, she sent a soft smile to the girl before kneeling down to tighten her loosening pigtails. Hongjoong moved forward, despite the woman’s pure intentions his protective instincts broke through-Jongho following hastily behind eyes widening as he recognised the woman.

“Thank you, Unnie-,”

“Dahye,” her head snapped up from the children, the acquaintance of the voice tearing the boundaries she’d built between them for years on end. The memories flooding back to her, she almost stumbled back at the sight of him; she clutched onto her Gohyun’s shoulder for strength. Her lips formed his name, but no sound came out. Hongjoong’s own eyes widened. His childhood love.

“I haven’t seen you in years! How are you?” He questioned, as if the last time he spoke to her wasn’t in her bedroom, telling her he didn’t love her anymore. That his heart was tied down to another woman, who he felt more complete with then he had ever felt with her.

“I’m great! Is she your daughter?” Hongjoong nodded proudly.

“This is your son?” She froze, unable to speak. Eventually, she shook her head no.

“No, he's Wooyoung’s son actually. He’s here, somewhere...” Tearing her gaze away from Hongjoong, who was somewhat surprised at the revelation, she trailed off scanning the park for her companion, who was jogging over to the reunion-two tiny bodies respectively hiding behind their close adults.

“Long time no see.” Jongho quipped from behind Hongjoong. With a gasp, she rushed to Jongho embracing him into a warm hug whilst terrorising him with questions all the same- Hongjoong slightly gaping at them with, a brief unsettling feeling in his heart.

“Jung Wooyoung, you bastard! It’s been ages!" Her hands flung to her nephew's ears, as did Hongjoong’s, as the profanity shamelessly sprung out of Jongho’s mouth.

“I love you too!” The university friends reunited, Wooyoung encompassing both Hongjoong and Jongho. Sneakily, the children had taken the opportunity to crawl back to the slides. While Jongho and Wooyoung conversed with each other, Hongjoong sought his old childhood friend, looking down at her feet in contemplation.

"You named her Dahye." she exhaled; a whiff of distress reminiscent in her tone. He nodded, slowly.

"So, no children, no husband?" As always Hongjoong went straight for the punchline but there wasn't really any other way about it. If Gohyun was not her child, nor Wooyoung her husband then who did she have waiting for her at home?

"No. We're not all entitled to that kind of life."

"But it's all you've ever wanted." he pondered, the words blurting from his mouth before he could stop them. He was met with a hard stare but she returned her gaze back to her feet. "I mean, no one at all?" When the one I wanted left me, how could I seek another? It wasn't that she had not tried at all, she'd been on many dates with many men. Lots of Wooyoung's friends, Johae's friends, some guys on dating apps she'd installed for the thrill of it but none had the compassion that she desired or none had wanted to date for marriage. She'd be lying if she said she didn't at least look for the smallest trace of Hongjoong in them all.

“Just Dahye or?”

“A three-month year-old boy, Kim Suho.” Perhaps that was enough to break all the progress she had made over the years, the bridge of her nose tingled but she refused to be vulnerable in front of him again. The tight threads that had lazily sewed her heart together ripping, the misery she had once been suffering from breaking through again. The universe really had no remorse left for her.

“I’m proud of you, Hongjoong. You finally settled down and I’m sure you’re a great father.” She retorted. What else could she say? As much as she wanted to, she could not scream or cry. Or shout and swear. Tell him how much he had broken her and when he left her home, mercilessly on that solemn evening many years ago she had not been the same. She could not tell him how cruel it was that he named his children the same names that she had planned. How much it hurt her that she wasn’t the mother of his children, like he used to claim he wanted her to be. Or rather that she was mother of any child since no man could love her in the ways she wanted to be loved. She called for Gohyun, the little boy tottering over to her. Clutching his small hand within hers, she brushed past Hongjoong to bid Jongho goodbye. Finally, across the park, she arched her neck to take a last look at Hongjoong. They marvelled at each other, before the universe could separate them once and for all.

I knew you once. I loved you once, held you in my arms and you promised you wouldn’t let me go. The memory of me so faint like there wasn’t a day that went by when you promised me that you would make me yours.

•••

A/N: ahhh the second fic in the angst series! I’m a bit iffy on the ending but let me know what you guys think? good? bad? ugly? May edit later. thank you to my love @n0v4t33z for helping me decide regardless! The cold persists unfortunately, but so do I. I'll try to squeeze in another fic before I lock into exam mode but I think it's just best to let the ideas marinate at this point. Still gonna be active on tumblr so reach out to me!! Hope you enjoyed this fic!

#kim hongjoong #hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x y/n #ateez angst #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #kpop #ateez x reader #ateez

[green-eyedfirework]

Slade heard the shouting first.  Not many people ventured here, Slade had managed to secure himself a prime position in exchange for being one of the Arena’s best gladiators.  A cell that was more of an apartment, most all the luxuries he wanted, food and pretty slaves and good fights.  He’d killed the last master who’d ordered him to lose a match, and his new one had learnt that lesson well.

There was little more that he needed from life.  Talia knew that a content gladiator was a loyal one, and unlike her father, she’d cultivated that loyalty well.

“Please—Talia—stop—” a younger voice on the edge of desperation, and at least three sets of footsteps.  Slade straightened off the bench and moved towards the front of his cell.

“You know better than that, Richard,” Talia’s voice was coldly amused, “You lost a fight to one of mine, and the Arena voted life.  That means I own you now.”

“Bruce will buy me back!” the voice insisted stridently, “Talia, please—”

“I find myself not exceedingly fond of my beloved at this moment,” Talia said dismissively, “And you will serve far better as a gift.”

“No—”

The footsteps reached the front of his cell, the curtains drawn back to leave only open bars, and Slade watched as his owner stepped into view, poised and calculating as always.  “Slade,” Talia smiled, eyes dark and satisfied, “How are you today?”

“Well,” Slade replied noncommittedly, far more interested in the struggling figure pinned by two guards, “I didn’t realize I’d earned a gift.”

“This particular one fell into my lap,” Talia’s smile grew wickeder, “And I have no need for a gladiator that loses fights, so I might as well use him as a favor.”  That was when the struggling figure jabbed an elbow into the stomach of the guard to his left and made a break for it.

Unfortunately for him, the guard recovered quickly, and made a sharp swing of his staff at the bandages that wound down one leg.  The unfortunate gladiator crumpled with a strangled shriek.

“Come now, Richard,” Talia said, her expression twisted with distaste, “At least try to lose gracefully.”  The guards yanked the limp figure off the ground and dragged him closer to the bars, and the spark of interest at the familiar name coalesced into sharp coldness at the sight of tan skin and dark hair.  Locks of it draped across that bowed face, as though Slade wouldn’t be able to recognize the man that had killed his son.

Talia read the simmering fury across his face.  “He’s yours,” she said softly, watching him, “To do with what you wish, for however long you wish to keep him.  His fate is yours.”

Richard Grayson made a barely perceptible sound.

Talia moved forward to unlock the cell and waited as the guards dragged Grayson closer before snagging the young gladiator’s chin.  “Your master needs a reminder on what happens when he spites me,” she murmured, “Your body will do quite nicely.”

Slade couldn’t see what Grayson did or said, but he saw Talia’s fingers tighten, nails biting into skin, before she let go and stepped aside to let the guards throw Grayson inside the cell.

Slade didn’t move.  Not as the guards retreated and Grayson pushed himself up to standing.  Not when Grayson pressed himself back against the bars, fingers tightened into fists as the click of the lock echoed in finality.  Not as footsteps receded, out of sight and out of hearing, as the beaten gladiator cowered in the corner.

Grayson looked gray.  His expression was fractured and his clothes were dusty and torn and he had one arm pressed to his chest in a way that indicated either an injured arm or broken ribs.  Possibly both.  The other arm was tensed, ready to lash out, despite him wavering on his feet.  One leg had bandages from calf to thigh.

More than all that, he looked small.  Exhausted and trembling and gaunt, like someone recovering from an illness, nothing like the snatches of the golden favorite of the Arena that Slade caught from time to time.  Not too many, no one was stupid enough to let Slade and Grayson in the same room, and especially not the kid’s previous master, but Slade remembered watching his son bleed out on the Arena sands as a sweaty, bloodstained, gleaming young gladiator lifted his dual swords to a wave of cheers that shook the entire stadium.

It wasn’t something he could forget.

“Who knew that the little bird would fall,” Slade said, low and cold, stalking out of the shadows.  Grayson pressed further into the corner but there was nowhere to go, blue eyes flitting around the cell like something would save him.  “You must’ve heard the story of the boy who flew too close to the sun.”

“Slade,” the kid’s voice was passably level, eyes wide and locked on him, “I—I’m sorry—”

“Sorry?” Slade arched an eyebrow, “Sorry that you killed my son?  Sorry that you built a career that started by defeating the Ravager?  I didn’t see regret when you stood over my son’s cooling corpse, I saw triumph.”  Grayson swallowed, expression fracturing further.  “You’re only sorry that you’re locked in here with me.”

“Slade—”

He didn’t give Grayson a chance to spout off pretty words—apparently he had a talent for being charming, a talent for making friends.  There were a group of them, young, puffed-up gladiators, that fought on the sands like it was their own.  Excellent, trained fighters.  And cocky and arrogant to boot.

Slade had always hoped for the chance to meet Grayson on the sand.  To have the fight he’d been itching for for years.

This was almost as good.

Grayson ducked at Slade’s telegraphed punch, pushing off the bars and twisting past Slade to stumble deeper in the cell.  Slade turned to follow him, noting his unsteadiness and adjusting his speed accordingly.

The fun was in playing with his food before he destroyed it.

Grayson was talented.  With dual short swords in his hands, and preternatural flexibility, he had gone undefeated for years.  He was masterful at twisting out of the way of strikes, all speed and deadly grace, and even with an injured leg he kept his balance well.

But he was unarmed, his right arm was clearly paining him, and he’d looked ready to drop even before the fight had started.  Even drawing it out, it wasn’t long before Slade grabbed his wrist from a poorly executed punch, and wrenched.

The kid went down with a choked gasp, clutching his shoulder as he landed hard on his knees.  Slade gave him three seconds before slamming a kick into his side—the kid made a harsh, punched-out sound and toppled over.

“Pathetic,” Slade noted, standing over the panting young gladiator, “The golden Nightwing, lying broken in the dust.  A fitting legacy of a boy that tried to fly too high, too fast.”

Grayson set his expression into a snarl and tried to lever up.  Slade ground a foot into the bandaged leg and Grayson collapsed with a strangled sound, trying to claw away.

“If only Grant could see you now,” Slade murmured, “He had a talent for humiliating his opponents.”  What his son could’ve done with a broken bird at his feet—but Grant had been cocky, and Grayson had been smart, and Slade had to watch from the stands as his son gurgled out his last breaths.

Grayson stared up at him with a facade of defiance, half-curled up on the ground.  “Spare me the monologue and just kill me already,” the kid snapped, his snarl unable to hide the waver in his tone, “There isn’t an audience to entertain here.”

Cute.  Slade would take great pleasure in watching that break.

“No, there isn’t,” Slade agreed, and reached down to haul Grayson to his feet and shove him back into the center of the room.  “There’s no one to entertain here.”  He smiled, slow and sharp.  “Just me and you.”

The mask of defiance cracked, and for a moment, the only thing in Grayson’s eyes was terror.

#my snippets #sladick #gladiator au

[justbelievinginmagic]

ariadne's thread ⎯ pt. 3: onwards & downwards.

pairing(s): hyunjin x fem!reader series summary: when tempted by an intoxicating offer by hyunjin the goblin king of the underground, you fight against him to find your own sense of self once more while in his labyrinth. glimpse: alone, you take some twists and turns that lead you deeper into the belly of the Labyrinth. warnings/tags: inspired by the 1986' movie Labyrinth, follows majority of the movie's plot points with lore divergence, 3rd person POV, use of Y/N, some violence, some mild injuries, world building!!, strong language, faerie lore!!, some light groping by Helping Hands but nothing explicit, cameo by knight!hoseok and knight!seokjin! word count: 4.8k series masterlist

The old dusty, cobblestone path shifted the longer she trekked through the Labyrinth. From something aged and grey to a more tan, refined structure of brink. No longer was she watching for raised bricks that she could stumble over and cobwebs of grand spider-silk wefts she could tumble into. It was far more maintained with its tall walls of oak-brown stones. The watch towers soon were exchanged for simple decorative sphere balls; some hollowed structures to have a flame flickering within.   

There were still rock and rubble, hugging the corners of the path, but, for the majority, it felt like she had entered a different portion of the Labyrinth. It felt like progress. And that made her giddy. She felt a tumble of adrenaline in her stomach, something urging her forward as she continued to turn and weave throughout the endless Labyrinth.

She didn’t know how much time had passed, but when she peered up onto her tip-toes to look over the walls as best as she could, she saw she was long gone from the beginning of the Labyrinth with the curly-haired fae, Soobin, and Yeonjun.

All by herself.

Looking for signs of the castle, she had to turn completely around to find its looming shadow. The rolling Labyrinth ahead made it look higher than where she was, if possible. How did it end up behind her? How did it seem to loom as if she was in a deep valley and it on a hillside? That hadn’t been the case outside the Labyrinth. Despite that oddity, the Runner smiled and headed on her way towards the castle.

She can do this. She was on a roll.

Twisting through the pathways was easy. One foot in front of another. There were no signs of other folk, not like before. In fact, some areas of the Labyrinth looked surprisingly well tended. There were ivy covering some of the walls, but it was not brittle and dying like outside the Labyrinth. It was thriving as it crept towards the artificial light of the high-floating candles. Some brittle branches were dead, but it seemed the further into the Labyrinth the more life flourished.

There were the large obelisks at the center of some of the pathways. These were much taller than the ones outside of the Labyrinth, and they weren’t cracking or crumbled. They stood tall with elaborate carvings on each of its faces now.

The Runner paused at each one, hoping they could help her. Maybe they held a story or hints to where she was. Each one as elaborate as the last. Some portrayed the tale of baby-snatching goblins; others illustrated mushroom faerie rings and their powers. There were some carvings of a young girl who was gilded in gold and a man painted in white robes.

As she crept along, she saw a face that looked like the Goblin King’s but younger with an inscription below in that unfamiliar language. He was painted with a gold halo – almost angelical.

It was interesting. She wondered if these were like painted glass windows of churches, retelling lore of the Underground or if they were simply décor. Old myths or moments of the past that were mute as dust. After all, they were stuck here in the Labyrinth.

They didn’t help – she knew that. None really felt like they could point her left or right or that way or this way. So, she continued onwards.

Her eyes took in the landmarks – a trail of ivy, the obelisk with faerie magic rings, a twisted branch with sparkling dewdrops.

Down this path, and then the next. Is this the way or that the way? No, no… she had seen that branch before. Pausing, her lips formed a straight line, and her brow furrowed.

“You’ve gone in circles thrice, Y/N,” a voice taunted and jested in her ear, the brush of phantom lips against her skin eerily familiar.

Her hair rustled in the wind with the sound. It made her stomach dance as she realized it was his voice. Gooseflesh raised on her arms as she turned her head towards the voice. Only to be greeted with nothing.

His laughter shook her; it felt like it shook the rock walls of the Labyrinth even. She heard a scattering of a raven’s caw as a bird-like creature flew away from its perch atop a sphere rock atop the walls.

“Only 10 more hours, my Runner,” he hummed again.

 It felt like he was beside her, murmuring the soft words into her hair. It sent chills down her spine as the cool air of his breath tickled her ear. She did shiver when she felt a phantom chill on the apple of her cheek – like a kiss from a ghost. It was icy cold, taunting, and most of all unnerving. She jumped away before walking off quickly, in a direction she wasn’t quite certain of.

There was no laughter, and she didn’t know if he was still there. Or was he everywhere? It made her feel like someone was watching her. Leering at her. Her footsteps were quicker now as she walked down another path until… she saw the same tree branch again.

“Dammit,” she bit out through her teeth.

She has been going in circles.

How could she keep track of where she was going?

Looking about, she saw there was pile of rubble. Picking up a rock, she tested it against the fine stone of the floor. The flat tiles were more organized and leveled than the cobblestone of the earlier pathways. Gritting her teeth, she hoped this worked as she dragged down the rock against the tile. An unpleasant scratching noise occurred but there was what she wanted. A line carved into the soft tile.

It was her way to keep track of where she’s been – her string of thread within the Labyrinth.

Adding an arrow pointing towards her next choice – turning left - she felt triumphant.

Her smile was cunning, almost a mimicry of the King’s. She rose to her feet, energized as she began her trek.

She wasn’t so dumb.

Every so often, she’d pause and kneel to scratch her path onwards onto the ground.

-

The Goblin King chuckled as he waved a glass bauble aside, a projection of the Runner within its shimmering surface. As he let it go, it floated off into oblivion, devoid of magic and becoming nothing but a regular soap-like bubble rather than a portal to view and affect his kingdom.

Sighing out, impatience clung to his bones as he slung a leg over his throne’s arm rest. The throne was a worn thing, not something of greatness. It wasn’t painted in jewels or gold or ever blooming flowers. It was a simple circular throne, large, with a comfortable cushion of dark velvet. It was elevated above the main floor of the room, forever placing the King above his subjects. The arm rest and backrest were one singular curving bone that had many crushed night-sky drapes tied to it. If anything, it looked like a crescent moon dragging along the night sky.

He was comfortable here, but impatient and, frankly, annoyed by the chatter about. His gaze rose to rest on the grand clock, currently hovering above the doorway of his throne room.

If you could call it a throne room. . . In true Goblin fashion, the entire place has become more and more decrepit over the years. Not in the sense it was falling apart like parts of the Labyrinth. It just was messy. A mish-mash of different eras of goblin elite lived in this space forevermore.

Old memories of his father’s court lingered by way of reckless Changeling-Goblins who had little respect for much, causing chaos or drinking honeyed mead ‘til they drowned in it. Even older remnants of the previous Goblin Kings remained with old shrines to fae folk long passed decorating the walls in grand sculptures. The décor wasn’t to Hyunjin’s liking.

The large throne room was in the highest tower of the castle. With mostly open space, the circular interior had dark greys rockwork building it up. Platforms for goblins and goblettes of all shapes and sizes were perched in the tower’s rafters. Creatures from Aboveground, stolen or sacrificed, hobbled about, crowing or hissing. Sometimes there was a puff of magic and a goblin would mimic a chicken or snake to the amusement of his onlookers.

Fae folk of the higher court – with their humanistic glamour and aged visuals - were gossiping about in the alcoves, donning old lace and leathered finery of Court standards long passed. It was never quiet in his throne room. It had become less of his throne-room and more of a gathering space for the court.

Which he despised.

Hyunjin didn’t like gatherings of drunkard goblins and fae-folk. He hadn’t in sometime since he’s taken the throne. In his younger years as Prince, he adored the Court life. Preened on his soon-to-be-subjects’ attention. Before he realized, like a child with toys he outgrew, he didn’t want something simple any longer.

He liked challenges. And the Challenge of the Labyrinth was the truest challenge there was in the Underground. It wasn’t often someone wished themselves away – it used to be village children wished away by towns, babes by their frustrated mothers, forgotten sacrifices to deities unknown, or woeful wanderers in the woods who would be taken by passing through faerie rings.

The wisher – or the taken - would take up the Challenge in exchange for the return of what they so desired – the babe they wished away foolhardily or their ability to return to the mortal realm. Or they’d stay and once 24 hours of time Underground passed, their humanity was the King’s. 

His father oversaw these Challenges and, now, so did Hyunjin.

Y/N wasn’t his first Runner through the Labyrinth; most didn’t make it far and none have won against him. He treated his Labyrinth like a game board. It was a game he had studied since adolescence. He knew the rules inside and out, and he liked to win.

Despite this, he can’t recall whom the previous Runners were anymore. Trophies gather dust in his kingdom – sometimes their visages blend together. One had a dimpled smile and blonde hair; another a crooked snaggletooth and soft eyes… or was it reversed? They all failed in their runs and, therefore, were changed. Wishes and deals were magic, and magic was steadfast and always. Nothing can stop it – not even the King.

Their human blood turned to goblin. And goblin-blood took more than it gave; changelings were proof of that. They lose their humanity and something else. Sometimes it’s their talent, or their wits, or their will, or themselves entirely. Some maintained their human-touch, and some shriveled into the very winged, yellow eyed creatures they were trying to conquer. A shadow of themselves and utterly lost.

Hyunjin had at first tried to take care of his Changelings – his father had before him, before he lost everything he had – but it was frustratingly boring. Some whined; some lost their minds. Most were sent off into the castle or the city. Some wandered off. Hyunjin let them most times. After all, he had gotten what he had wanted. Like a spoilt kingling.

There were few Challenges in this day and age. Most of his Changelings were eras old by now.

Hyunjin remembered how his father was overlooking a Challenge every other 13 hours it felt. The older man smiling fondly at the goblins about him. Tending to his changelings with the fondness of a father. He knew their names – given and chosen.

Hyunjin could count those he knew the chosen name of on one hand.

Given names were a different story. Given names were something one kept close to their chest. Hyunjin loved to know given names. He loved having the upper-hand.

Which of course is why his throne room was a circus to the court.

He loved knowing things that happen in his land and what better way to learn that by listening. Listen and give those food and mead and other pleasantries. His goblin-blooded folk were simple. The room a cacophony of noise as they scurried about, chittering and chattering and clanging. Maid-folk and servants rushed to try to clean the mess the goblins left behind. There were few fae-folk of human glamour that were more tamed, lounging beside the open-windows of the tower as if they could spot the Runner. Gossiping at how this one hadn’t given up yet.

Interesting. Intriguing. Insulting.

Hyunjin huffed as his gaze flickered from the clock to the court ladies by the window and back again.

“Can you spot her?” The voice sounded like the garble of a river’s brook, crackling and clinking like rushing currents against river-rocks.

“No, no. Can you?” Another voice - squeaky like a mouse in a field.

“Not quite. I’ve heard something from a guard though.” A third - deep like a fire pit’s roar.

His gaze flickered back to the clock. The clock ticked one second forward, and yet it had felt like five minutes. His fingers tapped against his scepter.

The Runner was taking forever.

It almost humored him. Impatience. Time hadn’t mattered before – but as she stumbled through the Labyrinth’s Outer Rim, he was struck with the realization that she was progressing quicker than any other.

“You won’t believe it, but Han helped her – I heard it from a guard. A fallen pixie tattled for aid.”

Hyunjin’s ears perked at the mention of that.

“Luella! Don’t let the King hear you say his name.” The river-brook voice garbled with a giggle.

“Oh, Han.” The mouse-like fae squeaked with a giggle and swooned into her cohorts. “I miss him.”

Chortles of giggles escaped the trio, their glamours shuddering and revealing their true forms – flickering of flames, moving mist, and, frightening enough, a collection of writhing mice making up a body.

Hyunjin’s jaw clenched as he slung his leg down from his throne’s curved armrest to put his arms on his knees and stare at the clock, harder.

Of course, Han had to have helped her. He’s always getting into his private business. His foot tip-tapped against the tiled floor.

9 hours and 58 minutes. 9 hours and 57 minutes.

She will be his and his alone.

-

The Runner kept running onwards. Stopping every so often to scratch her directions into the rock work. It felt like she was making progress. Until she paused as she turned a corner. There was a branch that looked a bit too familiar. The curl of it looked like a skeleton hand pointing her away.

Biting her lip, she looked back the way she came only to spot something unusual. The stone she had tagged with her rock was bare of any marking.

“What?” she breathed as she rushed over to it once more. Her hand reached out to rub at the stone – right where she had scratched into it – to feel unblemished stone.

She marked it again, scratching deep into the rock, and watched it with a stoney look. It stayed like any mark should.

Weird.

She looked back in the direction she was headed and when she looked back down, the stone was clear.

“Dammit,” she cursed out, rising from her crouch and tossing her rock aside with a clatter. “That’s not fair!”

“That’s not fair,” the wind mocked; the King’s voice laughed.

She glared up at the cavern sky of candles before stomping off in another direction only to run into a dead end; a large grassy hedge blocking her path.

“This isn’t a fair fight – what’s fair about moving the Labyrinth?’ she gritted out as she turned her back to the hedge to stomp off another way.

“That’s right! It’s not fair!” a voice chimed out.

Now, that wasn’t the King’s voice. Its voice was higher, almost windshield-wiper squeaky as it giggled.

Her head whipped around to see, not a wall of greenery, but two knights guarding grand oxidizing- copper doors, crawling with ivy. They looked very different from anyone she had met yet. Not the worn look of the fae from outside the Labyrinth nor the soft sheltered attire Soobin wore. No, they both were knights that was certain.

They were both tall but one felt larger; mostly, due to the large armor he wore. It was a copper-like metal, flickering orange in the candlelight high above them. Shoulders, chest, neck, legs, everything had the suit of armor in place as if he was ready to go into a fight here and now (except for the fact it too looked rusty like the blue-orange doors they guarded.) How long must he have worn it to become rusted like that? His head, however, was bare of a shielded helmet and, instead, revealed a red-headed sweet-faced man with a heart-shaped smile.

The other knight was much more relaxed, wearing sparse leathered armor over a deep navy-blue velvet button-up and dark slacks. His hair was a dark coal color, swept to one side. He had lips that were a pouted strawberry color and a hyena laugh in his throat.

The red head was ready at attention while the coal-haired man was slouching against his doorway’s arch spinning his sword casually in his hand.

“Oh, hello!” she sputtered at the two strangers.

“Hello, hello!” The redhead greeted as he stood at attention. He smiled at her still, heart-shaped kind.

“You’re here!” The other awed. “Finally!”

“Finally?” she queried.

“I mean, we’ve heard you’ve been here and knew you’d end up here.” One said.

“It’s so nice to meet a real human for the first time,” the other cheesed.

“It isn’t the first time, Jin,” the heavily-armored one claimed with a pursed lip.

“Yes, it is, Hobi,” Jin retorted, as if offended by the others words.

“No, it isn’t,” Hobi replied.

Then, the bickering continued, back and forth. Back and forth. It made Y/N’s head pound. Her eyes shut as she looked about a bit lost with what to do. Behind her was a new dead end, made of cobblestone wall rather than green hedge-work.

God, this place kept changing it’d give her a headache… if Hobi and Jin didn’t first.

“Where is here? It was a dead-end just a moment ago,” she countered. “I need to get to the Castle; is this the way?”

“Oh, this is the checkpoint to the next point of your journey,” Hobi beamed. “The only way to get out of here is to try one of these doors!”

“One of them leads to the castle at the center of the Labyrinth, and the other leads to certain death,” Jin revealed, leaning against the opposing archway of his door.

“Bum-bum-bum-bah!” he dramatized, with a wiggle of his fingers in her direction.

Hobi giggled sweetly. It was almost endearing as if they were some middle-aged married couple with their bickering and yet… they seemed to enjoy each other’s presence.

One must learn to like the person they’re stuck with if there are no others around them.

“So… which is which? You must know,” Y/N prompted.

“We can’t tell you,” Hobi said with a frown. “And we don’t really know why we can’t either.” His pout was gentle and child-like.

“It’s the rules,” Jin reminded.

“You can only ask one of us a question regarding the doors,” Hobi added.

“That’s part of the rules, too,” Jin commented. “One of us always tell the truth and one of us always lies. That’s a rule too.”

His blue eyes flashed to meet hers as he raised a hand up in a mock-whisper. “He always lies.”

“I do not!” Hobi exclaimed; there was a clank of metal against metal as he jumped in offense. His orange eyes flashed to meet hers, almost panicky to prove himself.

“I tell the truth!” he insisted.

“Oh, what a liar,” Jin cooed, reaching a hand to pinch Hobi’s cheek.

It quickly made Hobi giggle lightheartedly as if he wasn’t just called a liar again. Their relationship was odd, bubbly, and cranky yet fond and casual. It was distracting.

“One question,” she hummed as she looked between the two of them.

Jin nodded slowly as he shifted to stand tall in front of his door. A brow raised.

Okay. . . how would she figure this out? She only had one chance. How should she phrase it? She can’t just ask them if their door would be safe? Because they could lie. But—

Y/N smiled.

“Would he,” she pointed to Jin, as she spoke to Hobi,” tell me that your door leads to the castle?”

Hobi’s lips pressed together as he looked at Jin and then her, over and over. It was almost comical if she wasn’t waiting for the answer.

“Yes?” he murmured after a moment. It sounded more like a question than an answer.

“So, your door is certain death,” she said, “and his leads to the castle.”

Y/N beamed brightly.

Hobi looked towards Jin who shrugged in agreement.

“But—he could be telling the truth?” Hobi countered.

“But, he wouldn’t be. So, if you told me he’d say yes, I know the answer is no.”

“But, I could be telling the truth,” Hobi pleaded.

“But then he would be lying, so if you told me he would say yes, the answer is still no!”

A blink, blink, blink from Hobi before he turned to Jin with wide fire eyes.

“Is that right?” he whispered as if she wasn’t there, and, to be honest, she giggled a bit. Because she knew this had to be the right answer – it had to be.

“I don’t know; I never really got the rules,” Jin replied casually before the two of them started to giggle.

The three of them were giggling; it was a bit odd but she realized everything here was a bit odd.

“I think it’s right, really I do,” she commented. “There’s no other way it wouldn’t be… I think I’m getting smarter with this place.” Y/N approached Jin and he scooted out of the way with grandiose.

He bowed to her as she opened the door.

“Thank you, Jin… Hobi – I mean, you were actually really nice!” she complimented as she breached through the door way.

A huff let her as she felt her shoulders lighten from stress. She did it. She took a few more steps into the passageway, the light growing dimmer as Jin began to shut the door.

“It’s a piece of cake,” she breathed with a grin.

Before, she fell through the floor violently with a scream.

-

Not many people experience free-falling. Sure, tripping or stumbling was common-place. Even jumping into a pool might excite. But it was all controlled. All small distances. All happening with an end in sight.

The Runner was falling straight down into a dark pit that felt endless.

The feeling of surprise hadn’t faded, still bubbling in her stomach like she had cracked open a soda can. Her heart was in her throat as she screeched out. Hands above her head trying to grasp onto something hopelessly.

But she was falling too fast.

“Help!” She screamed. “Please!”

The fall felt infinite, empty, frighteningly so until it felt like things were brushing over her skin. Branches? Rocks? Overgrown damp fungus? She couldn’t tell as she scratched out with her hands

“Help?” she swore she heard a feminine voice chime.

“Help!” Y/N screeched again. “Please.”

Before with a jolt, she was caught. Air knocked out of her and a pain radiated where she had been caught – her arm. Something held first her wrist but then she felt hands on her waist, her shoulders, her legs. Hands everywhere wrapping around her limbs, some squeezing them tightly, others trailing damp-fingers up and down her skin.

She couldn’t help the scream that tore from her throat, raw. Jumping in the hands embrace.

“Stop it,” she whimpered out as she felt more hands crawling, crawling, crawling.

One poked her ear and it made her jolt away. Her head looked up as if she could see where she fell from.

“Help!” she yelled. Maybe Jin or Hobi would come help. They were knights; knights help, right?

Another hand crept to squeeze at her throat, almost curiously, only stopping when she wheezed. The hand wrapped around her wrist tugged her upwards, another hand tugged her another way. She felt like a ragdoll amongst angry toddlers

“Hey, hey, hey,” she heard a masculine voice mutter. “We are helping. Helping Hands.”

In the dim almost grey light, she some of the hands form … figures. Faces of different shapes made of fingers and thumbs and palms. Horrific in the darkness. Something mussed her hair, twisting it into knots around chubby fingers.

“You’re hurting,” she mumbled, as a sickly pale hand cupped her cheeks and squeezed them.

“Would you like us to let go?” the voice was now a deep mumble of a thing, and she felt some of the hands release her on command. The pressure on her held wrists ached as gravity took hold and pulled her downwards. Her shoulders felt like they were popping out of their sockets.

“No!” she screeched, fingers outstretching to grasp onto a corpse-cold hand.

The hands returned with eagerness. Nails scratching at bare skin, fingers prodding at her waist. A thumb dragged over her ankle. Some fingers combed through her hair like she was a doll.

“I want a body,” she heard a voice murmured quietly.

She couldn’t help but cringe away by some of the cold limbs.

“Which way would you like to go?” she could see a shadowy amalgamation hand-like face speak, the lips fingers and its makeshift eyes two pairs of palms.

“Up or down?” a squeaky voice screeched, almost like it was a poorly oiled door hinge.

“Pick one! Pick one!” that voice sounded childish.

“It’s a big decision for her, hush,” a motherly tone chided.

“Which way do you want to go?” A more urgent voice pushed. A hand tugged her hair and she yelped.

“Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way? Which way?”

It was almost hypnotic, how the different voices layered together as they chanted the words urgently. How many people – hands? – were there?

“I, uh,” she blinked as she looked down into darkness and then upwards which showed the same thing. “I guess down? If that was where I was headed?”

“Down?” a voice cooed.

“She chose down!” Another boomed with a jovial cackle.

Laughter that sounded less than nice and coos of ‘poor thing’ crowed out around her as she felt her body shift and move as the hands tugged and pulled her downwards before.

“Down, the Runner goes!”

“Wait,” she tried to stop, before all of the crawling wriggling fingers disappeared, and she was falling again.

“No, no, was that wrong?” she cried out as she continued falling, the sounds of the Helping Hands laughter crowing, growing distant.

Violently, she finally hit the ground. Her knees and legs took the brunt of the fall, aching painfully as she let out a cry. The floor was of dirt and grime, and she coughed as a plume of dust surrounded her.

Lifting herself up onto her knees, she looked around. Darkness was all about her but, suddenly, a light shined high above her as a lid over the hole where she came from with a secure snap.

Sealing her wherever she was, deep below the Labyrinth.

Y/N couldn’t help but sag as adrenaline left her in a huff.

-

His crystal orb – larger than that of the one he showed Y/N in her bedroom – showed not the Goblin King’s dreams, but his reality. His entire kingdom’s reality. And it showed her. Sitting in the dark of an oubliette after falling down, down, down. His eyes looked closer at her face. What a beautiful face – frustration written clear on her features as she rubbed her knees that were certainly bruised after such a fall.

Hyunjin frowned.

“She shouldn’t have been this far along.” He muttered out, glaring at his Labyrinth-Runner.

He had to admit she was clever – far more clever than he first thought. After all, he thought she’d give up –a life devoted to him was not horrible (so he thought). But the scrambling of goblin-feet about the castle, servants of goblin-blood and changelings from failed runs revealed the truth. The High Fae of the Underground, the royal line, were not of softness. They took and took and took. And he wanted her.

Licking the corner of his lip, he stood from his throne, kicking one leg off the arm-rest to stand.

“Someone must be reminded of their place.” The King muttered, grabbing his staff with ease. “An old friend.”

There was a giggle about as the goblins who were lazing about – the favorites – chuckled at their king’s words.

They knew exactly who he was speaking of.

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #skz imagines #hyunjin imagines #skz fantasy au #written by haley

[uncanny-tranny]

The funniest thing about my transition is slowly becoming even more of a spitting image of my dad. It sometimes makes me double-take in the mirror because I look like my dad if he were cooler

#trans #transgender #lgbt #lgbtq #ftm #nonbinary #how i am cooler than my dad: 1. long hair 2. face piercings 3. fagswag #the stereotype is that people go on testosterone to look like anime boys but i did it to look like Some Dad #i want to look like charlie twilight saga unfortunately (fortunately) #(guess what i'm watching. this shit is so so so so so funny. funniest movies made by man) #i was told pre-medical transition that i look like the spitting image of my dad by somebody who knew him as a teen and :') #i wonder what they would say like 2.5 years on testosterone thiugh #also tangentially-related but i had like. the biggest infatuation with kristen stewart when i was younger and i don't even know why #i think i just thought she was really pretty and i liked how deadpan she was in the movie i watched featuring her (lmao)

[xxcherrycherixx]

Milf blondie lockes

#thats it thats the post #cupid left ever after high after graduation since her job was done #she comes back 24 years later #and sees blondie lockes again #she looks so mature and is even currently pregnant with her 3rd child #shes also single 👀 #cupid falls head over heels in love with her #cupid still looks practically the same as she did when she graduated #although her hair is much more eminiscent of her usual bone elemental hair style #blondie had a massive crush on cupid back when they went to ever after high #she sort of gave up and was heartbroken when cupid just up and left after graduation #but now cupid is here as pretty and youthful as the day she left and shes trying to flirt with blondie #blondie is so confused on why cupid is trying to flirt with her when she feels like a washed up ugly old mess #cupid thinks shes the most beautiful woman shes ever laid eyes on. #she thinks blondie has aged like a fine wine that she really REALLY wants to taste 👀 #basically i just want blondie to be really self conscious about her age #and for cupid to worship her and to try to convince blondie on how beautiful and goddamn sexy she is #also i think its funny for cupid too look so much younger when really shes the old one here #think of that scene in the what we do in the shadows movie with viago and katherine #thats them

[britneyshakespeare]

Also I never knew that there was even a single color photograph of my grandparents' wedding in 1952. I've only ever seen the ones in black and white. Don't they look beautiful? Didn't I just come from the most gorgeous people?

#i love how you can actually see my grandfather's red hair #as a redhead i know the injustice that black and white does to us... alas! #my charcoal self-portraits always look unlike myself to me because im like i have red hair. this doesnt look like a redhead #this isnt me #also even though it's a white dress. grammy's dress looks so much more beautiful surrounded by color #wow #tales from diana #did you know i never knew my grandmother was a local beauty queen when she was younger until after she died? #when her dementia got to the stage where she needed a live-in nurse to help her all the time #at one point my aunt rediscovered a picture from when she was about. 17. i posted it years ago #she scanned it and had it cropped and framed and left it in the front of the living room #the first time the nurse saw that photo (i was there) she said 'DAAAAMN MOM IS THAT YOU?' #and grammy was like 'oh :) yes thats me' #like it was nothing and then later on the nurse said 'i know you already said it but damn i just cant stop looking at you!' #that nurse was really nice. really really nice. #the priest at the wake when saying a prayer for the family before everyone else started ushering in #mentioned what a beauty my grandmother was and what a lovely couple the two of them were. #they went to that local church for about 60 years so he mustve known them for decades. it was a nice touch.

[mmmmuffins]

.

#sometimes i cannot stand some relatives #for context my parents immigrated to another country before they had me and my sister so the norms and beauty standards are also different #and maybe I should remember that #but i called my older cousin and grandma today #my cousin is about three years older #but she is always always patronising me and my sister and treating us way younger than we are #anyway the first thing she did when she picked up the call was to make a face at my hair #and then when i said i liked it she brushed it off by saying its okay you are at home! dont need to look nice #i #and my skin. always about my skin #'you cant wear sleevless things if you have amrks bah blha blah why dont u put something on your face' #ughhhhhh this is why i hate video calls and i hate calling relatives #like. i always get so much shit for my hair from my family #understandably my parents and my relatives grew up in another country but #leave me and my gay little haircut alone omg #it isnt even that its layered or ugly their probem is that its too short #dont tempt me i will shave it off next #wtfffffffffff i dont want to look feminine leave me be #you could at least. have a little tact idk #my father i love him so much but he is always dropping his hurtful opinions when i dont ask #and he will end the sentence by saying 'it's just my opinion it's okay if you dont agree' like he didnt just insult my entire physical #appearance 😭😭😭 #i dont fucking want long hair leave me be why wont they ever understand taht #making me feel like im 16 again

[miragemage]

i know where the shame in being trans came from (my parents) but I was lying to myself about myself more than anything, basically from middle school until I was a fully grown adult.

#in middle school I dated a girl who only agreed to date me because i told her one day i would be a boy. #which is wild to me now. i realized when i was younger that i was Gendered in some way #and i attempted to act on it as a younger teenager. binding with bandages and too-right sports bras #stealing my brothers clothes because they didn't give me an anxiety attack to leave the house in #i came out to my mother at 15 while we were on a long drive #she told me i was wrong. ''if you were trans there would have been signs.'' #and then we didn't talk anymore. i bottled it everything up and started doubling down on being as feminine as possible #i struggled with being feminine. i never felt like i was doing it correctly. i would watch makeup tutorials. fashion videos. hair tutorials #and i would work so hard to be the most feminine version of myself because i thought if i just Did It Right it would feel right eventually. #but i came to the realization i was miserable. deeply miserable. so i worked very slowly at overcoming my fear and self hate and eventually #i had the courage to buy a binder. and that was it. I haven't looked back. #that first time trying it on was exhilarating. i had never felt like my body was mine until i saw my flat chest in a t-shirt.

[welcometogrouchland]

Oh my god. The way that you draw toh characters is exactly how they should look and people should be taking notes when they see your art. My soul is going to leave my body and I will only imagine them as the way you have drawn them. Your art is amazing and I'm going to go internally (metaphorically) explode now (/gen) (positive connotations)

I had to wait a good while to answer this BC I've been busy out of town but now I have a moment's rest I can say:

[ID: four reaction images- one is an MSPaint doodle of a figure with big eyes looking up at you smiling, the second is a photograph of a dressed up monkey with its hand on its cheek, the third is a little girl crying with motion blur and heart emojis edited over, and the last an MSPaint doodle of a figure hunched over crying as heart emojis are edited over their tears. End ID]

#ramblings of a lunatic #asks #THANK YOU I really appreciate the kind words! I love drawing the little owl blorbos #and tho it's definitely not to the same extent as the last thing I made fanart for (a podcast #so literally the maximum amount of freedom #-when it came to designs lol) it's fun to think abt how to put my own spin on things. #I love pretty much all interpretations of toh characters in fanart that I see? #I personally make myself keep them as close to canon as I can (bc I just dislike the experience of getting lost in fanon/- #-disconnected from the source material) so I try to make all my decisions justified to myself. #so like #amitys hooked nose is based on her dad's #willows skin tone is something between both her dad's #(even tho I don't necessarily subscribe to the theory that they're both her bio dads?- #-but that's a whole can of worms that I don't actually have a strong opinion on.- #-i only subscribe to it in fanart bc I think it's fun is what I'm getting at - #-but it's not my actual interpretation of canon #if that makes sense) #and I give Luz curly hair cause in some of the pictures in reaching out- #-it looks like she had hair like that when she was younger? And so did Camilla? #I know hair texture can change w/ time but for now I HC her and Camilla just straighten it. But that doesn't mean I have to <3 #and then all of them get acne because they r teens and if i see another series that features teen characters and gives them no acne #i will scream! #(you can see this in my own ocs design. hits you with the cystic and hormonal acne beams) #all of this to say #thanks for appreciating and loving the personal touches i add to the toh characters! #i love canon but im not owned by disney and im allowed to flex my creative design muscles a bit more >:]