#The Queen wanting everyone to understand and feel for her was such a good layer to the story

[sagesolsticewrites]

religion's in your lips, the altar is my hips

in which Steve takes care of you after a bad day

- including but not limited to: praise kink, hair pulling, oral (f receiving), Steve lowkey being a service dom 👀

(this is. very self-indulgent. very veryyyyyy self-indulgent. you have been warned <3)

a/n: huuuge shoutout to @upsidedownwithsteve's (aka Emmy, Queen of Smutty Sunday <3) most recent smutty Sunday event for giving me inspiration to write my very first smutty fic! Obligatory disclaimer that yes, this is my very first smut fic ever, I am an ✨asexual virgin✨ please manage expectations accordingly, yada yada yada. Also so many hugs to my bestie Kenz @fangirl-imagines for looking this over before I posted it ☺️ Kenzie has some incredible fics, go support her y'all!

Word count: 2870

Warnings: THIS IS SMUT. MINORS BEGONE. 🔞

Please like/rb if you enjoyed! 🤍

You let yourself into your apartment with a sigh, shoulders relaxing the tiniest bit as you step over the threshold into your home and finally toe off your heels.

Bypassing the darkened kitchen and empty living room, you open the door to your bedroom, where you knew you’d find a shirtless Steve in the middle of his post-work ritual of playing some game on his computer.

He looks up as you enter, face brightening with a smile as he greets you.

“Hey baby, how was—”

In lieu of an answer, you flop face first onto the bed with a groan.

You can hear the smile fade from his voice as he hisses sympathetically, “That bad, huh?”

You lift your chin so it’s propped up on the pillow as you explain your terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.

“You know that project that Marie was working on? She asked me for help on it, and I gave her some pointers, but she said she still wasn’t really understanding it so I ended up having to do all of it for her. And she’ll probably take all the credit for it, too.” You grumble, rolling your eyes, “And we had that meeting with our new clients, and my boss basically volun-told me to take notes for it, even though that’s really the liason’s job, and then she criticized me for not taking as detailed notes as Lauren even though that’s literally Lauren’s job! And she was there, she could’ve taken the notes, I don’t even—”

You shake your head in exasperation, shifting topics, “And then I didn’t even have time for lunch because Sara wanted me to help train the interns, and…” You end your rant with a groan, letting your face drop back into the pillow. “‘M just. So tired.”

“Sweetheart…” Steve’s voice turns soft as the pillow underneath your head, and he gets up from his spot at the desk to climb onto the bed, pulling you into his arms.

You curl into him instinctively, your head finding that space in the crook of his neck that feels like it was made for you personally, one hand coming up to toy with the curls at the nape of his neck, tracing patterns along the freckles and moles dotted along his skin.

“What can I do to help, honey?” Your boyfriend asks, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Jus’ wanna… I dunno, just. Stop.” You mumble against his shoulder, shrugging and curling further into him.

He hums in understanding, grabbing the hand that’s currently drawing invisible hearts around the moles near his collarbone and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“You’ve been doing so much for everyone today,” he murmurs, voice layered with understanding and adoration as he leans in and peppers tiny kisses over your forehead, your nose, your eyelids, and you relax even more as his voice washes over you, “Worked so hard.”

He pulls you closer, scattering kisses all over as you finally release all the tension you’ve been holding, letting out a sigh and shifting in his arms to face him. You don’t realize you’re straddling him until you’re pressed nearly flush against him, his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

His lips brush over every part of your face, down to your neck and then back up as you become putty in his hands, murmuring soft words of praise to you the whole time.

“You just need to stop working now, huh? Need to stop thinking,” His lips draw a path to your ear, where he whispers, “need to let someone else do all the work, huh, baby?”

A shiver runs down your spine, constantly in awe of the power just his voice has over you. His hand settles on your hip, a comforting, grounding weight while his other hand brushes a strand of hair back from your forehead. His lips work their way back down over your cheek, stopping to hover just over yours, mouths brushing together as he murmurs in a voice like silk, “Is that what you want, honey? Want me to take care of you?”

Warm chocolate eyes meet yours, soft, caring, always ensuring he has your consent before he does anything.

At your near-imperceptible nod, he drags his hand up to cup your chin, thumb dragging along your bottom lip.

“Need your words, pretty girl.”

“Yes,” you breathe, and that’s all the confirmation he needs to surge up and capture your lips with his.

As you brace yourself on his shoulders, his hands move to the thin strip of exposed skin where your shirt has ridden up. Your kisses become hungrier, ignoring your need for oxygen in favor of Steve’s plush, kiss-swollen lips, and he slowly drags up the hem of your shirt, breaking the kiss briefly to get your permission.

At your eager nod, your shirt is off and tossed to some corner of the room, his mouth eagerly on yours once more.

You can feel exactly how much he’s enjoying this through his sweats, and you instinctively begin to rock in his lap, dragging your increasingly damp core over his.

His hands grip your hips, the familiar feeling sending a thrill through you… but rather than guiding your movements like he normally would, he holds them still.

You pull away, brow furrowed, but before you can voice your confusion, he flips you onto your back, moving to hover over you in one smooth movement.

“I told you,” he murmurs against your lips in a tone that sends a pulse of scorching heat to your core, “I’m doing all the work, sweetheart.”

The whimper you let out is muffled by his lips on yours once more, his wandering hands and hungry kisses making short work of turning you into a moaning, gasping mess.

“Steve,” you whine out his name as his lips travel down to your neck, and you can feel his smile against the hollow of your throat before he returns to licking and sucking dark patches into your skin, the occasional use of his teeth making delicious shivers shoot up your spine.

“What is it, sweetheart?” He mumbles against your skin, trailing his lips along your collarbone. His eyes meet yours, a mischievous twinkle mixed with the searing heat in them turning you molten as he asks, “What do you need?”

Unable to find the words, your hand finds his hair instead — God, that hair — and begins pushing him down towards where you really want him.

“‘M gettin’ there, honey, I promise,” he grins, pausing your efforts to press a kiss to the valley between your breasts, “Lemme take my time and I promise it’ll be worth it, ok?”

He reaches up to toy with the strap of your bra— a simple nude thing you could get away with wearing under a white shirt at work— a questioning look in his eyes answered by a furious nod from you.

He makes short work of the clasp, and that really should not be as hot as it is, but— oh who are you kidding, even his breathing is insanely hot right now.

You throw your head back as he presses kisses all over your chest, mumbling against your skin the whole time about how pretty you are, just gorgeous sweetheart, God, I can’t believe I get to do this for you…

Your head goes deliciously fuzzy with the praise, and you can’t quite form words so all you can do when he takes your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it for good measure, is let out a keening “Ohhh” and instinctively tighten your grip on his hair.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Steve groans, the noise sending heat racing through your body, and you grin knowing you were the one to elicit it, “You sound fucking incredible.” He murmurs more praise as he turns his attention to your other nipple, giving it just as much attention and eliciting more gasps and moans and whines from you before he continues his journey south.

You lift your head and watch as Steve Harrington fucking beams when he reaches your stomach, your pouch poking out slightly more than you’d like over the waistband of your jeans.

He meets your eyes, his own swimming with sincerity as he begins to scatter kisses over your midsection.

“You”

Kiss

“Are”

Kiss

“Fucking”

Kiss

“Stunning”

Kiss

When it seems like he’s covered every single inch of your exposed skin in kisses, remaining stubbornly focused on your torso when what you really want is for him to be significantly lower, he meets your eyes as he plays with the waistband of your jeans, once again wordlessly asking your permission.

And once again, your furious nodding is all the consent he needs to peel your jeans off and toss them away.

“Sweetheart.” He breathes, wide eyes on where your jeans once were, “Honey. Baby. Are you trying to kill me?” He says in a strangled voice at the sight of your simple lacy panties in a deep, wine-purple color— a color Steve once drunkenly confessed was his favorite, though he told anyone who asked he preferred red.

You bite your lip in an attempt to contain your grin, “I thought you might like those.”

“Like them?” He murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your inner thigh, looking up through lidded eyes to meet your gaze as his own darkens, “I never wanna see you in anything else again.”

Your toes curl, and your breaths become shallow in anticipation as he scatters slow kisses all along your inner thighs, carefully spreading them apart, stopping when he gets to the edge of the purple lace.

He holds your gaze, gauging your reaction as instead of pulling them down over your hips to toss to yet another corner of the room, he simply…

Pulls.

The lace.

To the side.

You barely have time to let out a quiet, shaky, “Oh my God,” at the ravenous look on Steve’s face before his mouth is on you and you forget how to think, you forget how to breathe, you forget everything except Steve.

Let it be known: Steve Harrington knew how to eat a girl out.

He licks a thick, fat stripe up your center, gathering the moisture collected there before darting up to flick at your clit, an action that has you gripping the sheets like a lifeline, a stuttering moan that sounds vaguely like your boyfriend’s name escaping from your lips. His arms hook around your thighs, pulling you close in an attempt to keep your hips grounded, and he continues a few more passes of the same lick, flick pattern until you’re a writhing mess underneath him, his current strategy both too much and not enough.

He pauses just long enough to meet your eyes, pressing a single kiss to your clit that sends a jolt of pleasure up your spine, before diving in.

His tongue finds your entrance with ease, the way his nose pushes through the thatch of wiry hair to nudge at your clit providing extra stimulation as he makes short work of making you fall apart. His tongue swirls through your folds as he lets out a languid moan at your taste.

“So fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart.” He mumbles against your core, “So perfect, lettin’ me take care of you. This is all you needed, huh?” His eyes flick up to meet yours as you shudder and moan underneath him, struggling to keep your eyes on him.

He licks another languid path through your folds, savoring your taste, before continuing, his voice muffled as he licks and sucks at your entrance “Jus’ needed me to give you a break, needed me to tell you it’s okay to turn off your brain and jus’—” Steve punctuates his last words by wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking gently “—be a good girl for me.”

The combination of stimulation to your clit and Steve’s words has your hips arching off the bed, despite your boyfriend’s best efforts to keep you still. You can feel him grin against you and let out a dark chuckle at the moan you let out at his last words in particular, the way your hand tightens and pulls at his hair all the evidence he needs.

Still, he asks you, though he doesn’t quite expect a coherent response.

“Aw, sweetheart. You like it when I call you a good girl? You like bein’ a good girl for me?” He purrs in a voice like syrup, lips still brushing your folds.

“Fuck, I— yes, Stevie,” you whine brokenly, gently gripping his hair in an attempt to bring him closer to where you want him, whimpering softly, “Stevie please.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmurs, scattering kisses frustratingly just outside your core, “Jus’ trust me, I gotcha.”

You resist the urge to move, to just grab him and put him where you want him, even as you let out a frustrated whine.

Just as your patience is about to run out, you feel him smirk against you before diving back in, holding your legs apart as he sloppily licks and sucks at your entrance, his tongue diving deep inside you.

You let out a gasping moan as he attacks your core, practically clawing at his hair in an attempt to pull him impossibly closer, your brain going fuzzy and then melting entirely when you hear the endless praise falling from his lips as he eats you out.

“So good for me sweetheart, just perfect— shit, do you have any idea how good you taste?” He groans against you, his thumb coming up to gently circle your clit as his other hand moves to splay flat over your hips, holding you as still as he can, “Could do this all fuckin’ day, god you’re amazing sweetheart—”

Then he clamps his lips around your clit and moans, and you’re fairly certain you’re going to die of pleasure, both your hands flying to grip his hair and yank as your back arches off the bed, your head falling back against the pillows, mouth open to let out a high, keening moan.

When you come back to your body, Steve is back to gently licking through your folds, and your hands claw at him, needing him to be closer.

“Steve,” you whine, “Stevie please, ‘m so close, I jus’— I need— please, baby.”

As your words turn into incoherent moans and pleas, Steve is quick to assure you, thumb returning to playing with your clit as he mumbles against you, “I know, honey, I know what you need and ‘m gonna give it to you, I promise. Been so good for me today, taken such good care of everyone, now it’s your turn, ‘m gonna make you feel so, so fuckin’ good, baby—”

He dives into you once more, thumb rhythmically circling your clit as his tongue hits every spot inside you in a pattern that has you turning to liquid underneath him, your legs hooking together behind his back to keep him right there, and your vision goes white as Steve brings you towards your release.

You let out a cry as you hit your climax, and Steve dutifully guides you through your orgasm, murmuring soft praises the whole time.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs as he pulls away, mouth glistening and pupils dilated wide. Your hand cards through his soft brown waves, chest heaving as you catch your breath. Steve brushes gentle kisses to your inner thigh, your hipbone, your stomach, following a path up to capture your lips with his own, swallowing the contented sigh you let out.

He pulls away, meeting your gaze with a smile as he pecks your nose.

“Feelin’ better?”

You hum contentedly, “Much.” Your thumb comes up to stroke his cheek as you pointedly glance down, “What about you?”

Steve lets out a mock-annoyed groan, forehead coming down to rest on your shoulder.

“Baby, we just went over the whole thing about you not needing to take care of everyone.”

He lifts his head, meeting your gaze, “Seriously, though,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, rolling to lay next to you and pulling you into his chest, “I’m fine. This was about you, and I’m so glad I could help take care of you for once.”

You cup his cheek, turning his face to yours. You hope he can see every sincere, tender thought in your expression as you simply say, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart. You know that.” He murmurs in response, lips quirking up into a small smile as he turns to press a quick kiss to your palm.

“So,” he says, fingers stroking through your hair, nudging your eyes closed, “nap time and then appetizer dinner? We’ve got mozzarella sticks and some chicken tenders I can throw in the oven.”

You grin, despite already being half-asleep, “That sounds perfect.”

You can feel his smile as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most.”

“I love you infinity.”

“I love you infinity plus one”

“I love you—”

“Alright, let’s call it a tie, babe.”

Tagging a couple friends! Hi besties @austin-butlers-gf @sassy-ahsoka-tano @dontbesussis

#steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #my writing #sage writes

[squirmifyoulike]

Thinking about a situation where a princess has a pet dragon. It wanders freely around the castle, and the princess insists on how sweet and kind her dragon is - and really, that's true!

Most of the time.

The king and queen, eventually arrange for a prince to come to the castle. They're planning on arranging a marriage between the prince and princess; this way, the future of the kingdom is ensured. The princess is super excited, and she's even crushing on the new prince, which is fortunate since they're meant to be married in a year or two.

But here's the kicker: the dragon does NOT like this one bit. It understands every word the princess says... But the dragon is selfish and wants the princess to themself.

And so, that night, when everyone is asleep, the dragon goes prowling through the castle, stalking the prince... and eventually, it finds him, striding along the castle as if he already owns it. The dragon licks their lips, stalking the prince quietly in the shadows - and -

It pounces, talons outstretched, and grabs the prince quickly. Before he can scream, the dragon's cramming him down their throat, and, quickly, with a bob of their head, the prince becomes nothing more than a large bulge slipping down the dragon's throat quickly. He spills out into the dragon's gut, causing the dragon's belly to round out and expand.

Now, of course, it would look weird if the prince went missing, and the dragon had a large belly the next day. People would put two-and-two together. So, in order to give themselves an alibi, the dragon then raids the royal kitchen, stuffing themselves silly with all the food they can find. By the time they leave and head back to their quarters, they're panting from how much they've eaten. Their belly is swaying back and forth with each step... And the prince, despite being in a cramped space with little room, is still putting up a valiant fight within - but thanks to the dragon's impromptu kitchen visit, his struggles hardly register along the dragon's scales.

Eventually, the dragon reaches it's quarters, which it shares with the princess. It flops over on the floor and licks its lips again, relishing in all of the leftover flavors on its tongue.

The next day, everyone is puzzled. The prince is gone, seemingly vanished into thin air... And nobody has a clue as to where he is. Meanwhile, the dragon is scolded for stealing from the kitchen. Of course, they aren't actually punished for it, and they assume the reason the dragon's belly is so big is because of all the food the stole from the kitchen - so they don't stop to think about why the dragon's belly seems so noisy. The princess is even sympathetic to her dragon, cooing at them and asking if their stomach is upset from their big meal.

Of course... Everyone is unaware of the reality of what happened. While the dragon plays innocent and relishes in the attention that the princess gives it, the prince struggles and squirms fiercely, screaming and shouting for help - telling the princess that he's right there, and that her blasted dragon ate him. But unfortunately for him... No one can hear him through the thick layer of fat and muscle on the dragon's belly.

What's even more unfortunate is that the dragon's metabolism is slow; it's a creature meant to live in the wild, so anytime it consumes a large meal, it processes it slowly. For the dragon, it feels good... But for the prince, it means he's condemned to days, possibly even weeks, of hanging off the dragon's undercarriage, surrounded by partially digested food. And the dragon will only eat more and more, so the prince will never be able to get comfortable... But this is if he even survives that long. The dragon's belly is gradually filling up with acid, meaning he's running out of air to breathe...

#tw vore #vore tw #v.ore #fatal vore #digestion #soft vore #tw fatal vore #implied digestion #unwilling prey

[redsparko]

Hopefully this reaches the right audience.

I’d like to talk about Maya Sokolov and her writing and the analysis of what Miss Rina Kent could’ve done with her character and her story. I know Rina said in one of her Insta stories that for sure Remi, Maya, Vaughn, and Gareth were not getting stories. I can be fine with Remi and Vaughn not getting stories (Remi not so much but I can live) while Maya and Gareth I can feel some potential with.

And I get it from Rina’s POV, miss girl has written like 35 books within 3-4 years. And if she feels no passion or connection with certain characters then she won’t write it. I understand and agree with that completely.

It doesn’t mean I won’t have any ideas about it yeah? Even if it’s not canon that’s what makes it fun.

Anyway back to the point, Maya Sokolov and her character

She falls under the lines of the Queen Bee, diva, bitch. Something like Silver, Nicole, and Reina. I absolutely love those three. Personally, Silver should’ve gotten the trilogy, Reina was done dirty lowkey, and Nicole’s story (Empire of Hate) left me with wanting more groveling. But out of the three I found I relate to Nicole more.

It’s the inferiority complex. I love that shit, I have it too, and I eat it up. And that’s clearly scene in Maya too. In the end of GOR it’s referenced/implied/canon that Maya was jealous of Mia and made a monkey’s paw type wish that came true.

There’s something so raw and sad and powerful in that that can and should be shown in Maya’s character (speaking from personal experience) feeling something so negative that it results in an act of hurting another person you REALLY care about because it comes from a place of deep sadness and insecurity.

Maya can act like the biggest girl boss and look at everyone like they’re the dirt beneath her feet (literal quote from GOR) but that does not disguise the fact she can only act like that because no one else will ever hate her more than how she hates herself.

And as readers we can really see it, and even theorize it from in between the lines. In GOF we read about Nikolai’s thoughts about the twins.

There are people saying that GOR ruined the relationship and wished it never happened. I can’t say the execution of it was done well but I can’t say it was a total trash fire either. It’s a 50/50 depending because there are good things I absolutely loved and things that could’ve been improved.

But mostly people are saying that the relationship between Maya and Mia was sabotaged and it would’ve been better if it never happened. I disagree, I prayed for times like this to come—kidding, but the layers of anger and frustration and love in the relationship between them makes the relationship deeper. But we never get to see that in its completion.

Think of Landon and Brandon in GOF. We love them so much because behind that ire and blockage from both sides they came through that and love prevailed. This is why I stand by Rina Kent MALE friendships/relationships. They’re much more complex and thought out than the female friendships which come off as somewhat shallow. I’ll make another rant abt that later.

What I wish was done better was mentioning the difference in Maya, Niko and Mia’s relationship. It’s clear that Niko likes Maya less than Mia. And Maya feels less than Mia because she’s seen that Mia is favored. It’s not Niko’s fault but it’s like an unconscious thing, he’s just closer with her because he sees that he is similar to Mia. It’s a common and natural thing, you’re just closer to people you feel like you can relate with. That checks out.

I feel like even both of Maya’s siblings only see her for what she pushes herself out to be, a shadow diva who sees herself as superior (obviously hiding an inferiority complex). They don’t stop to acknowledge that maybe she’s compensating for something? Especially Nikolai, in that quote saying that he and Mia would fuck up each other’s demons but what abt Maya? You can’t be close to her because she doesn’t have flaws or negative thoughts or demons either?

This feels less like a “it’s Nikolai’s personality” issue and more like a “Rina Kent wrote Maya to be nothing more than her character archetype”

Other than that, I also wanna mention Maya’s relationship with Ilya and how it could enhance her character and dynamics.

Ilya is down to earth, not egotistical like Landon, or notoriously violent or volatile like Nikolai, nor with the high status like Jeremy. He’s a perfect match for Maya.

It’s mentioned by GOR from Mia’s POV that Maya wants someone high status with lots of money (I agree, get it girl slay) but Ilya is not those things. He’s just a bodyguard and the money in comparison isn’t that good. But he can see Maya for who she truly is, someone who is hurt on the inside, insecure and needing some help.

It’s not what she wants but it’s what she needs. She needs someone who won’t isn’t already existing in the circle who prefers Mia to her.

Although I do wanna say that I love the angst in early chapters if Maya felt some jealousy and sadness from believing that Ilya prefers Mia to her (seeing as how Ilya doesn’t regard Maya with the same reverence as other boys do) and he’s actually friendly to Mia while he’s bitchier to Maya. It’s all part of the angst. But endgame wise he would choose Maya cause he sees right through her and is more interested in the true part of her that’s vulnerable and scared to love in fear that the one she loves will love Mia more.

#maya sokolov #rina kent #god of ruin #god of fury #nikolai sokolov #mia sokolov #jeremy volkov #legacy of gods #Gareth Carson #killian carson #dark romance

[ystrike1]

I Tamed A Tyrant And Ran Away - By Yusoi (7/10)

Here it is. The whole package. I should be happy. The art is beautiful. The yandere has layers. There's human experimentation, and reincarnation that sort of gets explained with magical lore later on. The romance is very slow burn, but I don't love it. I've had this on my reading list forever, but I can't give it a rating higher than an eight. I know it's good, but the author clearly padded the plot to make it longer...several times. You can skip about a quarter of the chapters and still understand what's happening. That's not good.

Charlize Ronan was perfect, but her family didn't love her. Her mother was the queen of high society. Her father desperately loved her mother, but then that perfect mother died giving birth to her. The cold Duke told his sons to ignore her, and he treated her like a bug even though she was talented. When she was chosen to become the Emperor's sword she was overjoyed. She thought she had finally earned their love.

Sadly, the Emperor is evil. He sells and distributes drugs. He experiments on talented people. He turned Charlize into a sword. A legendary sword. A sword powerful enough to blow away demons. The sword has her living soul in it. Her soul lives for four hundred years in the blade. The empire stays corrupt and horrible. All of the owners of the blade suck. They use it for evil. Charlize prays for a chance to destroy the empire that created her.

She gets that chance. Time turns back because somehow the magic that made her a sword connected her to a god(?) who listened to her plea for revenge. She doesn't just go back in time. Everything turns back. The evil empire can be destroyed, because the Emperor hasn't made his super sword yet. Charlize joins hands with the thirteenth prince. He's an aloof genius who really loves his mom. Charlize hangs out with him and his mom. They size each other up and become allies. Dylan didn't become Emperor in the past. He was a shadow Emperor who used people like toys. Charlize wants to use him to end the evil empire before it begins.

She succeeds. Everything goes according to plan, but now Dylan is a little nuts. He hid his feelings well for a long time. He let Charlize use him. Under all of his cold genius he is soft. If you get on his good side you stay there. His mom earned his trust, so he was her most loyal protector until her weak constitution killed her. Charlize proves her worth to him quickly, and after that he falls in love, and that love darkens. I really didn't know he was completely crazy until about chapter forty. He seemed confused about his emotions, but he was acting.

He wanted Charlize the entire time.

Charlize cannot forgive her family. Her father made her brothers torment her. They never hated her. They were just kids who didn't learn about empathy. Both of her brothers are sort of sheep, but they eventually go against their father. They give Charlize a birthday present. A gorgeous and rare flower. Nothing too crazy. The boys just want to show her they care, but then blood pours out of her mouth. She's deathly allergic to this one flower. Her father hid the allergy because it's an "embarrassing" weakness. This scene was awesome. It showed that real reconciliation isn't possible. Her brothers feel guilty, but it doesn't matter. They abused her for years. They know nothing about her. Their gifts and smiles can't fix years of physical and mental abuse.

It was also a beautiful scene because Dylan acts the way you're supposed to act when someone you love dies in front of you. He freaks the hell out in front of everyone. He treats her himself, because he doesn't want the hyenas in the palace to know about her allergy. He stays by her side. Her brothers just kinda stand there shocked and they don't try to visit out of shame. The brothers aren't totally evil, but they aren't her brothers.

They don't deserve that.

Charlize loved another man in her past, which is cool. She even admits it. The Duke is the same rank as her, and he's kind. After she got turned into a sword in the past he tried to look for her. He's an honest man, and he helps her rebel against the Emperor with Dylan. He also gives up on her in a mature way, when he realizes that she'll never choose him. I hope he finds happiness in a side chapter after the ending.

Charlize and Dylan eventually hook up, like for real. They behave like competent adults about it. They are both mature and powerful. That makes them boring. The title of this story is I Tamed The Tyrant and Ran Away. Charlize doesn't actually run until chapter sixty. That is just Too Long. It also happens because of magic mumbo jumbo nonsense. The blossoming couple is perfectly happy after the Emperor dies but then boom.

Oh no!

Charlize is connected to a god or goddess or whatever. There's a magic cult. Charlize feels compelled to kill Dylan because....um...magic. So, she has to leave the castle for his sake. Um. This is the title of the story, and it's not good. There was another reason why she could have chosen to run. Dylan promised to let Charlize kill the Emperor. He almost beheads the Emperor without her, because he's kind of jealous of his father, because Charlize is obsessed with him. He COULD HAVE gone against her wishes and beheaded the Emperor. Then Charlize could have run off enraged, because he stole the revenge she's been dreaming of for four hundred years. Then she could have eventually been captured by the new yandere Emperor.

That would have been great.

The cult plot is stupid and eyeroll worthy.

The yandere moments do get really good. I should have made this clear. Charlize did some really fucked up things to Dylan. She made him dependant on her. She used the love he feels for his mother to gain his trust. She also uses him as a tool for revenge. When she leaves he doesn't freak out. He trusts her. She promised to stay with him. They slept together. She said she loves him. He thinks she left on a secret mission, so he patiently waits for her.

For three years.

She doesn't send a single letter.

He snaps and sends his knights out to find her and bring her to him.

(I'm not being a baby some of the arcs in this are incredibly boring. I've described the interesting stuff. Can't rate it higher. You can't make me.)

This isn't over yet but I'm not that invested anymore because my goodness the cult is so annoying....also the cult members are annoying...

.....ugh....

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #dark fantasy #I Tamed A Tyrant And Ran Away

[bbygirl-aemond]

Jaime Lannister vs. Aemond Targaryen

HEAVY BOOK SPOILERS AHEAD, Y'ALL

I’m sure I’m not the first person to point this out, but “The Black Queen” sets up a really interesting parallel between Aemond and Jaime. I noticed it right away, mostly because Jaime is one of my favorite GoT characters lol, and haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

First, Aemond and Jaime are both deeply dedicated to their families. Jaime, for all of his character development and good qualities, is hopelessly in love with Cersei and their children. All of the worst things that he does, he does for them, every time. Aemond hasn’t had as much screen time, but he’s shown a strong sense of duty to his mother in the show so far. And in Fire and Blood, when Aegon is recovering and unable to rule for a period of time, Aemond insists on remaining Regent and never tries to take the title of King from his brother. He does this, despite his clear understanding that he would be a better king than Aegon, and his demonstrated desire for the throne and its responsibilities in the show.

(As a side note, this is why I don’t believe that Helaena’s children are Aemond’s. I don’t personally believe they have romantic feelings towards each other, but even if you do, the fact still remains that Aemond has a strong sense of propriety and respect towards his brother. Just as he would never even try to take his title as King, no matter how much he personally wants it and feels he deserves it, he would never dare sleep with his wife.)

Back to the Aemond/Jaime parallels-- so we have two characters whose entire lives' purpose seems to revolve around their families, and who are capable of committing some pretty awful acts for their families’ sakes (see Aemond’s war crimes era from the books, soon to come in the show). But both have a strong sense of honor, and respect, and propriety.

And both spend their adult lives being spurned and hated, and are branded with an insulting title, for a supposed crime that has been fundamentally misunderstood. We have Jaime, who is mocked with the title of “Kingslayer” and told time and time again he has no honor. Meanwhile, he killed a madman in order to save the lives of hundreds of thousands of people. And we have Aemond, who is branded a “Kinslayer,” whose family is murdered for this supposed act, who himself is murdered because of this. But we see how Lucerys’s dragon strikes the first blow, not Vhagar; and we see how Aemond desperately tries to stop what happens.

Both Aemond and Jaime also, so tragically, never try to correct the public’s impressions of them. I think they understand that this would be an impossible feat; that no matter how much they tried to plead their case, they would only be scorned further for trying to paint themselves as innocent. Truly, no one would believe them.

Aemond has another layer of trying to protect his family by refusing to clear his own name. Vhagar is the Greens' biggest asset, and to admit that they struggle to control her would have catastrophic consequences. His brother would lose allies as King, and the Blacks would absolutely seize upon it. And I've established that I think the Greens view this as a fight for survival, not for the throne, so to lose would be to forfeit their lives.

(If you’d like a little angsty Aemond headcanon, imagine whether the show will allow him to at least be believed by his own family--or whether even people such as Alicent and Helaena will 100% believe he intentionally killed his nephew, and blame him for everything that ensues. Everything.)

Anyways, both Jaime and Aemond do terrible things, which are certainly inexcusable. But this aspect of their backstories makes them so much more multidimensional and interesting than if they were simply evil for the sake of evil, the way everyone around them seems to believe. And I definitely have a type when it comes to my favorite characters!

#jaime lannister #jaime #aemond targaryen #aemond #books #show #brainrot #headcanon #hc #house of the dragon #hotd #got #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #fic: stormbreak #stormbreak #fic #book spoilers #spoilers #hotd meta #meta

[procrastinatorproject]

I just had a realization about why Agnes Jurati’s story in Star Trek: Picard season 2 feels so wrong to me, and I am going to inflict it on all of you!

Spoilers for the entirety of season 2 ahead! CW: Mention of depression, PTSD, anxiety, and emotional manipulation

Also: CW long post

(NB: I’m going to completely disregard the discrepancy in Agnes’s character between seasons 1 and 2. I think when you take Agnes’s story and development from the first season into account, her “arc” in season 2 falls apart completely. But for the sake of this argument, I’m going to meet the season 2 writers on their terms. I’m going to ignore the character of season 1 Agnes, and instead will simply look at season 2′s Jurati to explain why I think the story the writers gave her falls flat.)

I was taking notes for a way-too-long essay about my problems with PIC season 2 (which I may or may not write eventually), and I was trying to put into words why it always irks me when people say merging with the Borg Queen was a satisfying end to Jurati’s arc.

What I was never able to put my finger on until now is that when the Borg Queen and Jurati merge at the end of episode 9, that’s not actually the culmination of Jurati’s arc. It’s the Queen’s. All of the things that have frustrated me throughout season 2 about Jurati’s development are resolved for the Queen.

The writers tell us that Jurati is lonely, but they show us that she is surrounded by people who love her. This discrepancy is never addressed, neither in dialogue nor action nor thematic parallel. At no point does Jurati (or anyone else for that matter) acknowledge that this discrepancy exists. Because of this, we don’t really get to understand Jurati’s loneliness.

We don’t know if it was caused by anxiety, depression, and PTSD (very likely) or if it was caused by something else. We don’t know if she has tried to address it in some fashion and failed, or if she is convinced there can never be a way to feel less lonely. We never have an opportunity to think about different possible solutions to Jurati’s loneliness, because it’s never acknowledged that there could be solutions. At least none other than the one offered by the (manipulative, abusive) Borg Queen.

By contrast, we discuss the Borg Queen’s loneliness in some detail. Jurati points out that the Queen assimilates people because she feels lonely and needs connection. This longing and need for connection is part of her being, as it is for everyone else. Only the way the Borg Queen has gone about trying to mitigate her loneliness and fill the void at the core of her being is destructive and will never bring her the connection she craves.

We clearly know what is driving the Queen, what she has done to address this drive, why she failed, and what alternatives she could choose.

One advice you get over and over when writing stories is that a good, layered character has a Want and a Need. Picard wants to get everyone home and outwit Q, thus saving the universe. He needs to learn that he is not responsible for other people’s choices and deaths, so he can learn to love again. Seven wants to be human. She needs to learn that her unique way of existing is good enough.

To have a truly satisfying arc, your character has to engage with their Need and figure out what to do about it.

Jurati and the Queen both want roughly the same thing: They want connection and not to feel lonely anymore. (With a side of “wanting to save her friends” for Jurati.) The Borg Queen tries to accomplish this by assimilating people until she finally doesn’t feel lonely anymore. What she needs is to learn mercy, and understand that creating a mindless collective will never fill the void inside her.

But what does Jurati need? Throughout the season, I thought her arc might be about realizing that she is surrounded by people who love her and to accept their help. Except the writers never acknowledge that this is a thing she needs. A lot of people say what she needed was to accept the Transhumanist Solution to her loneliness: joining the Borg collective. Except that doesn’t really work, either, because Jurati never has a real choice about the matter.

Jurati allows the Borg Queen into her brain, first to get information from her, and then to save the French cop and make sure her friends still have a way to get home. She chooses this as the least worst of a number of very bad options. Then the Borg Queen takes control and Jurati occasionally manages to wrestle some of it back. Finally, when the Borg Queen has taken over Jurati’s body completely and is trying to use it to kill her friends, Jurati tries one last desperate move: With Seven dying at her feet and the rest of her friends soon to follow, she talks the Borg Queen into showing mercy. She convinces the Queen that they can build a better collective - and she sacrifices herself for it.

You can read this as Jurati choosing the Borg freely, but we get no indication that that’s the case. Nobody, at any point, offers an alternative for her. The option of de-assimilation doesn’t really come up so she could reject it and chose to stay Borg instead. The option of killing the Queen and herself is definitely never presented.

For the New Collective to feel like the culmination of Jurati’s arc, she would have had to make a choice. A real choice. And for her to make a choice, there would have had to be options. But we are never shown any options for Jurati.

The one who does have a choice is the Borg Queen. She has the option to kill Seven, take over Sirena, excise Jurati from her consciousness, and build a collective the same way she has done in countless other timelines. Or she can choose mercy. Save Seven, accept Jurati as a part of herself, let go of her idea of “strength” and embrace this new consensual(???) collective Jurati is offering her.

Jurati doesn’t really change or learn anything throughout season 2. She doesn’t learn to trust herself, she doesn’t learn how to deal with her loneliness, she doesn’t have some profound insight about the benefits of joining the Queen’s consensual Borg collective. She finds a way to convince the Borg Queen to stop killing her friends. The Queen is the one who grows and changes.

Out of all the characters this season, the Borg Queen might actually have the most clearly defined, straightforward arc with the most satisfying ending. Maybe Tallinn comes close, but my current impression is that the Queen takes the cake.

Jurati, on the other hand, doesn’t have a clear arc, let alone a fitting ending to it. We never find out which lesson she was supposed to take away from the events this season, she never gets to a place of self-actualization. Her role in season 2 is to prop up the Borg Queen’s (legacy) character arc.

There is a lot more to be said about this (while writing this, I realized that one of the reason’s Picard’s arc falls completely flat for me might be that his Want and Need are so utterly disconnected!). @curator-on-ao3 has pointed out that Raffi and Laris have the same problem as Agnes, where they are reduced to helping facilitate a legacy character’s development. And I would argue that even Seven falls into this category, because the season 1 version of Seven is overshadowed by legacy!Seven, i.e. instead of focusing on any of the aspects that constitute her character as we meet her in 2399, the story focuses on the same issue that was her defining characteristic throughout her tenure on Voyager.

But all that will have to wait until another time, this post is long enough as is.

I’d love to hear what all of you think about this! Is this a fair assessment of Jurati (i.e. season 2!Agnes) and the Borg Queen? Am I missing something crucial? I’ve only seen the season twice, and a few scenes more often to check what I’m ranting about is actually accurate, so there’s a chance some important bit of development did not register fully. Or does your reading of these two differ completely?

#star trek picard #star trek picard season 2 #picard season 2 spoilers #picard spoilers #agnes jurati #borg queen #eggness p borgati #meta musings #kinda #lili's writing adventures #long post #i have no idea how passé talking about character Want vs. character Need as plot analysis is #There are probably many stories that skillfully subvert this “rule” and produce brilliant characters regardless #i dare say Picard: season 2 is not one of them #so i'm standing by this analysis (for now) ;9 #also: this is probably not worded as clearly as it could be #but i really need to go to sleep #i hope it makes sense anyway

[greenmeanqueen]

Saw that ask about Targ stans being gleeful over the fact that Alicent's "line" died out and Rhaenyra's got the throne - and I really find that odd. I mean, there seems to be this perception among them that Alicent's kids are not "Targaryens" but Hightowers. For me, aside from the obvious suffering of the realm and small-folk, the actual tragedy of the dance is that it tore a family apart. Everyone knows the, "A Targaryen alone in the world" line, implying the importance of family. In the very first episode of hotd Daemon talks about how their blood is thick, and Viserys himself talks about the importance of sticking together as a unit. The opening lines of the show were literally that the only thing capable of destroying the Targaryens were they themselves. We see it throughout their history: if they had kept tight as a family, they wouldn't have fallen apart the way they did (Aenys and Maegor, the Blackfyres&Bittersteel, Aerys not being etc...).

Besides, I honestly don't get feeling gleeful over a mother's grief, no matter what. I felt awful for Rhaenyra when her sons died (honestly, I don't know how much she would've enjoyed Aegon and Viserys ruling when she lost Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey). I felt awful for Alicent when she outlived her children and grandchildren (that line about how she wanted to see her sons and Helaena was one of the saddest in the book). And I felt awful for the kids themselves (at least, those who were pulled into the conflict not out of their own volition but because of responsibility toward/association with their family; most of them were so young).

thank you for your ask!!

anon, i think that's an excellent insight on stans implying that alicent and her children are not truly "part of the family", and thusly perceived as outsiders and enemies coming to tear the targs down.

and, frankly, that's objectionably simplifying the situation. that's part of the point, that all of these people were supposed to have some sense of loyalty to each other due to the notion of "family", and yet the chaos of choices drove them apart. this is not to say that just because one is "family" one must unconditionally support them, no no. but there were decisions made by people in power that weren't thought through well enough to consider how it would affect descendants down the line (looking at you, jae/haerys and vi/serys). these decisions laid the pieces in place for everything to go wrong, for people to turn on each other and feel like they had to choose a side (or were too young to fully understand what that meant).

i'm just gonna say it: to boil it down to "alicent started the war/dance" is clearing every other player of responsibility, because no, no it wasn't only her (debatably it wasn't her at all). aegon ii would not have gotten as far as he did if his claim was not arguably legitimate, which it was because he was, undeniably, the son of the former king. he was targ/aryen, as were his siblings, as was his mother a targ/aryen queen. they were valid members of the dynasty, whether they wanted to be or not. "othering" them does such a disservice to the story and removes so many layers.

and even if one doesn't like certain characters over others, it still gives off a sour energy to celebrate the suffering of mothers who were neither good nor bad, just people, and mourn children that didn't deserve what happened to them. like, rhaenyra and alicent are messy and all, but they didn't deserve what happened to them either; neither of their downfalls feel cathartic, it's just horrible and sad, and i can't help but contemplate how different things could have been if it weren't for, bluntly, the patriarchy and the men it empowered.

#feel like this is a little all over the place #but you really got me thinking anon i had so many thoughts #still i hope this makes sense!! #anti targ stans #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #anti viserys i targaryen #anti jaehaerys targaryen #dance of the dragons #the blacks and the greens #fire and blood #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon spoilers #asoiaf #game of thrones #ask a gal

[anonimouse-sewer]

Been a while since I requested a matchup, so here goes!

Topic- Persona 5

Pronouns- she/her

Sexuality- bisexual

Astrological sign- Sagittarius

Personality- overly polite to the point of near annoyance when first meeting someone, once I’ve gotten to know someone, I’m either extremely passive or extremely pompous in an over-the-top joking way. Often I am both at the same time. I have autism and suffer from frequent sensory issues, so I’d ideally prefer someone who’s willing to accommodate that

Too little or too much information? Apologies, just let me know and I’ll fix it

Thank you and good day!

I match you with Haru Okumura!

Makoto and Haru would take to your overly polite nature easily being that they're both the same way, but Haru would especially be able to relate with how politely she always conducts herself, so she was quite drawn to you right off the bat.

Upon getting to know you after you joined the Phantom Thieves, she found she could relate to the passive side of your personality and found your extremely pompous side really amusing! She'll even play along with your over-the-top humor!

She would also see a lot of her own layered personality in you through this. She's polite and passive as well but there's another side to her that's bold and assertive that she's trying to explore

She would invite you to garden with her on the roof or ask to join you on walks as an excuse to get to know you better

If you two are ever in an overstimulating environment, she'll gently lead you by the hand away to a quieter area and patiently wait for you to regulate. She'll stay silent while softly stroking the back of your hand with her thumb (not without permission, of course! she'd completely understand if you didn't want any physical contact in that moment), standing by in case you need anything at all from her.

Alternatively, if the overstimulation is being brought on by the group being a little rowdier, she wouldn't hesitate to use her assertive side to make them quiet down/stop whatever they were doing in that moment until you were regulated.

Makoto would support you during these times as well. Like maybe running to fetch anything you needed while Haru stayed with you or going all Queen on the group if they caused it by accident.

Generally, she's always checking in on you because she takes your sensory issues very seriously. Part of it comes from her being the oldest (next to Makoto) of the group and feeling like it's her responsibility to look after everyone, but it's mostly because she just hates to see you uncomfortable.

She adopts your humming/mumbling and finds herself doing the same whenever she's unhappy, usually in regards to her family situation. You caught her doing this once and inquired about it and she explained that she does it because it makes her think of you.

"O-Oh, that? I guess I do it because it makes me feel happy and stronger, like a good luck charm. When I do it, I feel like everything will turn out okay..."

One day when you guys are gardening together on the roof, you find a garden snail in one of the planter boxes and she's a little lost at first until you begin sharing your love for snails with her, which leads to her asking all kinds of questions about snails and your experience with them. Before you guys know it, you've spent the majority of the day doting on this garden snail! In the end, you guys end up naming him and purchasing a plastic aquarium to keep the little guy in. Haru will feed him some of the vegetables she grows and you guys will take turns taking him home and caring for him. He becomes you guys' little baby and this becomes one of her most cherished memories with you.

You guys make a great team in the Metaverse and she always has your back Beauty Thief won't let her precious friend get hurt on her watch!

Sometimes she's just so technologically lost and you have to help her out but it's always such a mess

"Tumblr? Um...is that that little gear icon on my homescreen?"

You, Haru, and Makoto have sleepovers often but due to Makoto's responsibilities, it's mostly just you and Haru. She enjoys sleeping over at your house more than her own because she has little experience with that and it allows her to feel "normal" without the presence of her maids. She also has bittersweet feelings towards people visiting her house because, growing up, her peers only wanted to befriend her and visit her house solely for her family's status. Her friendship with you has mostly healed these feelings though.

At these sleepovers, she enjoys typical "girly" activities, like doing each others hair and beauty treatments together while she fangirls about her favorite female superheroes or watches horror movies with you. She'd also be the type to poke around your room curiously but respectfully. She'd enjoy looking at your drawings and whatever else held meaning to you in there, even the most trivial things. The primary activity at every sleepover though, is playing video games together while sharing your favorite snacks. With you guys' pet snail, of course

This is the same girl that created a whole backstory based off her Phantom Thief outfit alone before she even joined the group. She'd love coming up with oc's and headcanons for the video games that you guys play together too, especially if they had character creators.

Of course, all the snacks she'd bring would be murderously hot so I hope you like spicy food!

It's at one of these sleepovers that she confesses her feelings for you. She confides in you about her desire to live her life freely and says it's thanks to you that she's able to be so comfortable with saying what's on her mind.

"Actually, if it's okay with you, I'd like to express what's on my mind at this very moment...could you please close your eyes for a second?"

Your face is gently cupped and a soft, chaste kiss is placed upon your lips...

"I...I love you, (Your name). Thank you, for being you..."

As a couple, yet another layer of Haru Okumura is unveiled to you

She's somehow even more loving and nurturing now than she was before!

She loves doing cute little things like holding you or your hand, rubbing your head, or running her fingers through your hair!

Pet names

She kisses your cheeks a lot

She's quite shy, so she wouldn't kiss your lips in public often but if the moment was right, she wouldn't mind. Most of your kisses happen when you two are alone though, usually on the roof.

She won't let a single day go by without telling you she loves you

She just loves admiring you. She looks at you with unparalleled adoration in her eyes because you truly are the most precious thing that's ever stepped into her life.

Lots of shopping dates! And she absolutely spoils with you with gifts because there's nothing else she'd rather spend all that money on! There doesn't even have to be an occasion, but simply because she thought of you or an item reminded her of you.

She gifts you bouquets all the time with words of love and flower meanings attached on a card!

Upon regaining her passion for ballet, she would want to pursue it with you but if you weren't interested, she'd just love it if you accompanied her at practice/recitals!

Ryuji and Futaba already joked about you two being relationship goals, so when you guys announce you're dating, everyone owes them money. Makoto already knew about Haru's crush on you, so she's just so proud and happy for her best friends!

She can't wait to get her arranged marriage cancelled already because now she actually has someone she wants to marry.

She's beyond elated when you two get accepted into the same college and, because you guys end up rooming together, you're more like a married couple than ever now. This girl doesn't ever want to be away from you.

"It's quite a feeling. To love and admire someone all at once..."

I'm so sorry this took as long as it did!!! I was so busy but I wanted to give this my full attention no matter what. Thank you so much for your patience. Writing this was the most fun I've had this busy week, so I really hope you enjoyed it as much as I did! Did you fall for Haru reading this? I think you guys are the cutest pairing I've written so far<3 Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for sending in an ask and answering mine too. I truly appreciate you. :)

#sewerrat #answered #ask response

[faithandfearcollide]

#ouatedit #reginamillsedit #Regina Mills #Once Upon A Time #Henry Mills #henrymillsedit #Regal Believer #regalbelieveredit #ffstuff #OTP: The Queen and Her Little Prince #Cleaning out my drafts #The Queen wanting everyone to understand and feel for her was such a good layer to the story #And wanting her son to understand her so that he can love her #It's so sad and misguided #but I loved the psychology behind it #Wish we had more of this #q

[scuttling]

(Not So) Casual Friday

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 4,456 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch (it's not a main component but he very much has the tummy here), Pining, Accidentally admitting attraction, Embarrassment, A little angst, Oral sex, Protected sex Summary: Your best friend Derek finds out about your feelings for Hotch and teases you mercilessly. You can manage it, though, until the first ever Casual Friday, when Hotch shows up to work in a black polo and jeans and you kind of ruin everything. Or maybe you don't? *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Okay, girlie, today’s the day,” Derek says when you set your bag and coffee cup on your desk on Monday morning. You shoot your best friend a tired smile and wonder for the—you’ve worked at the BAU for almost two years, so it’s probably the 500th time—for the 500th time why he has to be such a morning person when you would prefer not to have a conversation until at least 10 AM.

“Today’s the day for what?” you sigh, asking out of obligation, because it’s obvious that’s what he’s waiting for; he smiles, picks up your coffee and hands it to you, which must mean you sound bitchy. You take a grateful sip, close your eyes and exhale through your nose.

“For you to admit to me that you’re in love with Hotch.”

You spit out your coffee—only all over yourself, which is great, wouldn’t want to inconvenience Derek at all—and then cough so hard he has to thump on your back to help clear your airway.

It draws some attention; Hotch comes out of his office, takes a look at the two of you and probably regrets hiring the both of you, then walks down the stairs to make sure you’re okay.

“What happened? You’re wet,” he says a bit gruffly, looking at the coffee all over your chest and sleeves. You glare over at Derek, who’s clearly trying not to laugh.

“Derek made me spill my coffee.” You grab a handful of tissues off your desk and pat at the wet spot, trying to soak up the worst of it, but it’s not salvageable. You’ll have to change your shirt.

“And then you… choked on it?” Hotch asks, to clarify. Derek does laugh at that; the things Hotch is saying happen to have dual meanings, slightly sexual, and now that Derek knows—thinks he knows—about your thing for Hotch, it’s clear he finds it all so hilarious. He’s a twelve year old boy in a grown man’s body.

“Okay, I didn’t spill, I spit,” you correct, looking up at them, and Derek makes an exaggerated face of disapproval.

“Should have swallowed,” he says, trying to sound serious, and you shoot him an irritated look and reach out to slap him in the chest. Asshole.

“Do you need help getting cleaned up?” Hotch’s expression is kind, sweet, but you’d sooner die than have him blot coffee off of your boobs. It would be mortifying, especially in front of Derek.

“No, no, I think I’m okay. Thanks,” you add with a soft smile, and then you reach up and pull your sweater over your head, unzip your go bag, and search for another top.

For some reason, Hotch has a coughing fit scarily similar to the one you just had, and you turn to pat his back like Derek did for you.

“Are you alright?” you ask, looking up into his face, and he nods despite his watering eyes.

“Fine,” he croaks, and he leaves as quickly as he came. You sigh, because it’s not even nine and your day has already been so weird.

You’re wearing a tank top, and thankfully the coffee didn’t get through to that layer, so it’s quick and easy to throw another lightweight sweater over top of it; you ball up the wet one, shove it in the dirty clothes portion of your bag, zip it up and stash it under your desk. Derek looks like he’s having the best day of his life.

“You realize you just undressed in front of Hotch,” he says with a tone you don’t appreciate. You roll your eyes.

“I did not. I had a tank top on underneath.” You almost always wear an undershirt, because you’ve been a cop long enough to know that sometimes your clothes get torn or messed up in the line of duty, and you’re not trying to offer a free show while taking down an unsub. Derek wiggles his eyebrows, points at your chest.

“Yeah, one that put those little boobies on display. His eyes bulged out of his head like a cartoon character.” This time, you punch him in the arm, hard. It’s too goddamn early for this.

“Can you please shut up already? I don’t have a thing for Hotch.”

“Ah, I didn’t say you had a thing, I said you’re in love with him. And I have evidence; lots of it.” You tip your head back, groan, wondering what you did to deserve a best friend who is also such a pain in the ass, and it’s that moment that Hotch chooses to rejoin you; he looks a little flushed, probably from the coughing earlier.

“Uh. We have a case; I know not everyone is here yet, but you can head up to the briefing room, I’ll grab the others when they arrive.”

“Sure thing, sir,” you say easily, grabbing your tablet and what’s left of your coffee; you gesture for Derek and he follows, laughing and shaking his head. “Okay, what is it now? I’m so glad you find me entertaining today.”

“‘Sure thing, sir,’” he says with a high, breathy voice you assume is supposed to mimic yours. “You want his dick so bad.” You narrow your eyes at him as you head upstairs.

“Uh, because I was being respectful? I know that’s a foreign concept for you, the world’s biggest asshole, but you don’t have to read anything into it.” You take your usual seats at the table, pull up the note-taking app on your tablet, and Derek sits back, crosses his arms behind his head.

“Well you’re not calling me ‘sir’, and I’m the sexiest piece in the office, so it’s hard not to read into it.” You look over at him, elbow on the table, chin in the palm of your hand.

“Sexy is subjective, and you don’t do it for me, sorry to break it to you.” He scoffs, laughs, and you laugh too because you both know you see each other as brother and sister, buddies, and fellow former cops, and absolutely nothing else.

“Yeah, I get it, only Hotch does it for you; he’s not my type, but I can see how a young lady like yourself could be drawn to his brooding exterior.”

“I’m not drawn to his exterior!” you practically growl, and then you’re joined by Spencer and JJ.

“Good morning. What’s going on with you two?” JJ asks, loading up the monitors for the debriefing, her eyebrows raised.

“She’s in love with Hotch,” Derek says completely nonchalantly, and you rest your head on the table, on top of your forearms, and sigh.

“She’s what?” JJ’s whole face lights up, and you seriously regret everything.

“I’m not in love with anybody!” you mumble against your arms, and then you sit up, because you’re clearly going to have to defend yourself. “And I’d appreciate it if you quit saying that I am.”

“I told you I have evidence,” Derek reminds you, leaning back in his chair a little. One swift kick would have him toppling ass over tea kettle, but you’re too nice, even when he’s actively trying to ruin your life. “Shall I go over it while we wait?”

“I’ll be an objective third party,” Spencer says with a brief smile, and you sigh, wave your hand toward Derek.

“Alright, let’s hear it. I’m sure I have a perfectly reasonable explanation for whatever evidence you might think you have.” He grins like this is the moment he’s been waiting for, and you feel a little stupid for encouraging this.

“For one, you always look at him. When I’m delivering a profile, I notice you watching the locals, making sure they understand what we’re going over, since you're the queen of analyzing the micro expressions. But when Hotch is delivering a profile, your eyes are on him the whole time. Same goes for discussing theories on the jet; anyone else, and you’ve got your face in your tablet, scribbling notes, but you always look at him when he speaks.”

Your cheeks get hot. He’s a captivating speaker, is all, with that deep, velvety voice, and you can learn a lot from him, so you pay attention. That’s just being smart.

“Second, you tense when he gets close to you: not like you don’t want him to touch you, but like you’re halfway to jumping him already and trying to control it. I could probably put my hand in your pocket and you wouldn't even flinch, but if he leans over you to point at something you look like you’re about to cream your pants.”

“I have seen that, actually,” JJ offers, and you look over at her, betrayed. Sure, you get a whiff of his clean, crisp cologne, or feel the heat of him at your back, and your body reacts, reminds you that this is your boss and you’re at work and you can’t get turned on by the way he smells, but that’s actually a good thing, not an indicator of feelings or anything.

“Third, there’s something up with you and the gray suits. I can literally tell that he’s wearing one before I even see him, all because of the look on your face. It’s like you’re drunk on the gray suit.”

“Okay, that’s not true,” you say with a roll of your eyes—the gray suits are god tier, but there’s no way you’re that obvious—but it’s Spencer who speaks up, this time.

“You know, I have noticed that. Your pupils tend to be more dilated when his suit is gray or blue than when it’s black.” Fuck. You sigh.

“He barely ever wears the blue. It looks so good on him,” you murmur, and then you snap your eyes shut, cover your face with your hands. “Fuck. This is so embarrassing.”

“To be fair, we are profilers,” Derek says, leaning in to pat your back. “But also to be fair, he’s been a profiler longer than any of us, so if we know, he definitely knows.”

“Not helping, Derek,” you grind out, and then you’re joined by the rest of the team. Penelope takes the seat next to you, leans in with a worried tone of voice.

“Is everything okay?”

“She’s having a small crisis, but she’ll be fine,” JJ says with a smile, and you don’t miss the way Hotch looks you over when she says it, concern in his eyes. “Alright, so we’re headed to Arkansas…”

Later that morning, when you’ve been given your instructions—yours are heading to the crime scene with Emily and Derek—Hotch pulls you out into the hall, rests a gentle hand on your arm.

“Are you alright? JJ mentioned you were having a crisis earlier. This is the first time I’ve been able to get you alone, and I wanted to check on you.” You take a deep breath, look up at him, so handsome in a black suit, white shirt, green tie—he almost never wears a green tie, and you absently think it brings out the more golden tones of his eyes—and smile softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s really nothing. Personal stuff, and I’m dealing with it.” If by ‘dealing with it’ you mean you’ve been repressing it, shoving it down day in and day out until your feelings are choking you, then yeah, you’re dealing with it. “Thanks for checking, though, that’s kind of you.”

“Of course. I’m here to help in any way I can, if you need me.” Good god, do you need him, emotionally, physically, but that’s fantasy, and this, what he’s offering, is rooted in reality. Good things do happen, but not to you.

“Thanks.” Your voice is weak to your own ears, and he swallows, nods; you see Derek hovering by the door, waiting for you, and you pull away to join him, plastering a smile on your face. You don’t talk about it again until Friday, and at that point it’s extremely unavoidable.

It’s Casual Friday, newly implemented by the bureau as a way to boost morale, and while it doesn’t really excite you, because you’re fairly casual anyway, others take full advantage of it. Others, including Hotch.

He shows up to work wearing a black polo and dark jeans, his usual watch. It’s easily the most simplistic, basic outfit a man could decide to wear on Casual Friday, but this isn’t just a man, it’s Aaron fucking Hotchner, and so naturally, you lose your damn mind.

It wouldn’t be so bad if the damn polo didn’t fit him perfectly, tight across his shoulders and chest and the little tummy he has that makes you want to be under him so badly, your stomachs pressed together while he thrusts inside you, holding you tightly, his strong thighs working against yours…

“Hello, are you alive in there?” Emily asks, waving her hand in front of your face; the two of you, along with Derek, are in Penelope’s office for lunch while Rossi, Reid, and JJ are out of the office for a seminar. You blink, shake away your thoughts and hope and pray they don’t come back—but they’ll come back, they always do.

“She’s just short circuiting because of Hotch’s Casual Friday look,” Morgan says with a wink, sitting backward in his seat. “She’s been drooling so much I’ve had to follow her around with a mop to clean up after her.” You push your wheeled chair away from them with a groan, needing space and air and, potentially, a brain transplant. You’ve gotten nothing done all day long.

“Can you blame me? The man comes in here everyday, buttoned up tight, looking incredible in a suit and tie, and then he shows up in that black polo, all snug and hot and delicious, and you expect me not to freak out? You guys are lucky I didn’t pass out.” You’re met with silence, and you blink, confused, at your friends, but they’re all just kind of staring with looks of barely concealed humor. “What? It’s not like it’s a secret that I want to climb him like a tree.”

“Pretty sure it was a secret to him,” Penelope says, looking shocked, and you whip around in your chair to see Hotch standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and a little flushed.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I, uh—” He raises a hand, waves you off.

“It’s okay. No harm done; thank you, for the, uh. Compliment.” He steps forward, hands a manila folder to Penelope. “Thanks for taking care of these,” he says softly, and then, unsurprisingly, he gets the hell out of there. You wish you could disappear off the face of the Earth.

“Fuck, holy fuck,” you mutter when he’s gone, leaning forward with your head in your hands. “That’s it, I’m quitting. It’s been nice knowing you guys.”

“Okay, don’t be dramatic,” Derek says, and you look up to glare at him; he’s the one that started all this in the first place. You were fine, feelings tamped down and suppressed, until he brought it up and then told everyone you know.

“Don’t tell me not to be dramatic, Derek! This is all your fault. You never respect my boundaries, you never know when to just let me be, you always have to pick and pick until you wear me down. Maybe I had a reason for wanting to keep my feelings private, did you ever think of that?”

“I know you're upset,” Emily begins softly, because there’s some pretty thick tension between you and Derek now, but you stand up, push your chair across the room, and shake your head.

“I’m not upset, I’m fucking humiliated. I’m going home; let him know I’m sick, will you?” You exhale deeply, storm upstairs and grab your stuff and drive home with tears in your eyes. You’ve never been so embarrassed in your life, and add that to the absolute heartbreak you’re feeling? You’re just happy you make it to your apartment, so you can break down with cheesecake and a sappy, romantic comedy with a happy ending: those perfect, fictional worlds are pretty much the only place one is guaranteed. You are, as planned, hunkered down on the sofa in your softest pajamas, watching You’ve Got Mail and eating the center out of an entire cheesecake with a spoon when there’s a knock at your door. You groan, pick up your cheesecake tin, and walk over to it, fully expecting it to be Derek come to beg for forgiveness for ruining your life, so it’s no surprise you drop your dessert on the floor when it’s actually Hotch on the other side.

He looks down at the tin, then up at your face, cracks the barest hint of a smile.

“I thought you were sick; I brought soup,” he says, holding up a paper bag, and your heart thumps in your chest. You wipe a hand over your face, because you haven’t been exactly neat in your heartache cheesecake consumption, and then you kick the tin across the floor and invite him in, closing the door behind him.

“I thought it was obvious that I wasn’t actually sick, just… really embarrassed,” you say when he turns back to look at you. “I can’t believe you heard all that stuff I said… I’m really sorry I made you uncomfortable.” You take the bag from his hand and invite him to follow you into the kitchen, where you set it on the counter, lean against it. He comes close, but not so close you can’t function, which is good; your comfy pajamas are shorts and a loose tank top, so you feel a little exposed already.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he says softly, and you frown, must have heard him wrong. He presses his fingertips against the counter, as if for support. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. It was… unexpected,” he explains, “very unexpected, but I’m not uncomfortable.”

You flush hot, and you can feel the bad decision part of your brain switching on, warning bells ringing in your head.

Whatever you do next has the potential to be extremely stupid, and you would like to avoid that at all costs; you love your job, after all, despite how physically and emotionally exhausting it can be, and you love your team. Time to think with your upstairs brain only.

“That makes me feel a little better,” you say truthfully, and despite the pep talk you just gave yourself, you move closer to him like there’s an invisible magnetic force between you; you would imagine a guy like Hotch would step back, keep his distance, but he only cranes his neck a little so he can look down at you more easily.

God, he’s tall. And he smells good, and his face is perfect, and that goddamn polo...

“Good, I’m glad. I don’t want you to feel bad about this. I’m not uncomfortable, it’s not… it’s not unwanted.” You swallow audibly, looking up at him, wondering if he knows what he’s saying, what it sounds like.

“It’s not?” you ask, and it comes out breathy; he takes a small step closer to you, brushes his fingers over your arm, peers into your eyes.

“No, it’s not. I’ve been thinking of you, too; I know you know you’re beautiful, but you’re also so smart, and strong-willed, and a force to be reckoned with. I’m proud to have you on my team, and I’d be proud… to have you climb me like a tree.” He smiles again, just the barest hint of one, and you put your arms around him and pull him closer for a kiss.

One long, slow, perfect kiss turns into another, then another, and he presses your back against the counter, his hands on your face and your hands on his thick waist; you hum into the kiss, revel in the feel of his lips on yours, his tongue sweeping past them, and when you pull back for air it feels like there’s only one question that needs to be asked.

“Bedroom?” you breathe, and he nods, and you take his hand and pull him in that direction, pausing to kiss him several times before you get there. “You don’t happen to have a condom, do you?” you ask, breathless, guiding him to the bed, and he frowns, shakes his head.

“I didn’t want to seem presumptuous.” You grin at that, lean forward and kiss him, your fingers in his hair.

“I find it so hot that you even say presumptuous. I might have one here somewhere.” You open your nightstand, move around books and toys until you find a couple; you flip them over, checking to see if they’re expired, and offer him a couple options. “They’re still good, surprisingly. You can, uh. Choose the one that would work best.”

He looks them over, picks one and hands back the rest, and you throw them back in the drawer and slide into his lap, wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he says, holding your waist as you look down at him, completely in awe that this is happening. “But I want to clarify: if you’re looking for something casual, I don’t think we should go any further.” You inhale softly, surprised by his straightforwardness, and you lean in, kiss him slowly.

“I don’t want casual. I want to be with you.” His eyes are so brilliant, dark in the dim light of your bedroom, and he nods, presses his lips to yours and slides his hands beneath your top, guides it over your head. Then they move to your shorts, slipping them gently off your hips, and you stand so he can push them to the ground.

You’re both breathing heavily, a little rough, and you step between his legs, kiss him again, run your hands down his chest, closing your eyes with a sigh because you finally get to feel him after a year of just imagining what it would be like. After a beat, you open your eyes, look into his, smile.

“Really grateful for Casual Friday,” you whisper. “Otherwise you might never have found out I’m kind of in love with you.” You ease the polo over his head, drop it on the ground and encourage him to stand so you can take off his pants; he does, but before you can drop to your knees as planned, he takes your face in his hands, presses one soft kiss against your mouth.

“I’m more than kind of in love with you.” Oh, if that isn’t the greatest sentence your ears have ever heard… You wrap your arms around his neck, kiss a little more, forgetting that you planned to finish undressing him; when you remember, you make quick work of it, then have him lay back against the bed and settle between his legs.

You put your mouth on him because you want to, more than anything, and his hand drops to your hair, caressing you while you suck slowly, deeply, holding him with one hand and pressing against his stomach with the other. His moans are soft and gorgeous, his body tense beneath your hand, and you’d do this all night, but he murmurs your name, coaxes you up, puts his hands on your back as you settle against him.

“You’re so incredible. I never would have imagined I’d get this, get you,” he breathes, skimming his hands over your sides and hips, and you kiss softly, steamy and sweet.

“Me neither.” You lean up, make space for him to roll on the condom, and then press him inside; your breath hitches, and so does his, and you lay on top of him, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, arms around each other tightly while you move. “Hmm. Aaron,” you sigh, hair falling around him, and he groans, digs his fingertips into your hips.

“Sounds so perfect coming out of your mouth.” You smile, but it slips away when he surges up to kiss you, leans up so he’s sitting with you in his lap. He slides a broad hand up your back, wraps it around the nape of your neck, and pumps his hips up as you sink down, eliciting a series of soft, eager moans from the both of you.

“Feels like I’ve waited so long; I’ve never wanted someone as badly as I wanted you,” you tell him, chest heaving, and he brings you to him for a kiss, something a little rougher, less refined. He’s getting close.

“Never. You make me feel so much.” You reach back against his leg for support, work harder to bring him off, and when he comes he crushes his mouth against yours, delicious and more uncontrolled than you’ve ever seen him. He chants your name, so soft and sweet rolling off of his tongue, and then gets you on your back so he can press deeply inside.

You feel so incredibly full, panting beneath him, your hands on his waist and your feet on the backs of his thighs; his perfect face is inches from yours, all shallow breaths and decadent, passionate kisses, and when you climax you pull him closer, sigh, unravel completely in his embrace.

Maybe good things do happen after all. You hold each other and talk for a while, after a quick pitstop to the restroom, and then your stomach growls—understandably, since the only thing to fill it since lunch was that stupid cheesecake—and Hotch orders takeout on his phone from bed; god bless technology.

There’s a knock at the door twenty minutes later, and you know that’s quick for your favorite Thai place, but you’re not complaining because you’re officially starving. He offers to grab it, throws on his boxers and heads for the living room; after a few minutes, you wonder what’s taking so long, pull on your robe and go to check on him.

Hotch is talking to Derek, who is standing in your living room with a piece of cheesecake and a shit eating grin.

“I came with a peace offering, but now I think I’ll wait for a, ‘Thank you, Derek,’” he says, and you roll your eyes, stalk over and take the cheesecake out of his hands. You give it to Hotch, lean up to kiss Derek on the cheek, and push him toward the door.

“Thank you, Derek. Go away, Derek,” you say with a smile of your own, and he raises his palms and retreats down the hall, laughing as he goes.

This is just one more thing he’ll tease you mercilessly about, but this time the benefits outweigh the costs. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt #dad bod hotch

[dreamescapeswriting]

The Best Life ~ HJS [Request]

WORD COUNT: 3.3K

GENRE: arranged marriage AU, toxic family, 

PAIRING: Jisung x Reader

A/N: I am far from the Angst queen but I hope you enjoy this sweetie

All your life things had been planned out for you, from the moment you could walk everything was set in stone by your family and you weren't in control of anything around you. From the way, you wore your hair your clothes, when you could speak and what you could do with your life. There was no control for you, the only control you had was when you could go to the bathroom and even that was timed sometimes by your family members. It seemed as though everyone else was in charge of your life while you sat there and watched everything happening around you like some kind of television show so when it came to an arranged marriage there were no surprises to you. It was only a matter of time until your family decided who you would marry and now it was that time, they'd arranged for you to marry someone called Han Jisung and that was all you knew about him, well that was all your family thought you knew about him but you'd done your research and snooped around as much as you could.

Apart from being one of the richest families in Seoul, there wasn't much to Han Jisung besides a few stories about who he was sleeping with, going to parties with and who he was friends with. It seemed as though he led a free life, something you were jealous of but if marrying him meant you even got half as much as his freedom you would take him in a heartbeat. 

"Are you sure this is the one?" Your sister's nasal-toned voice asked as you stood in the dressing room, the day before your wedding and you were trying on a brand new dress because the first one wasn't "right". Meaning that because you had been the one to pick it that it wasn't good at all. It was the way it always worked. 

"I'm sure of it, I picked it out myself." Your mother said proudly as you looked at yourself in the mirror, it was a beautiful gown but you were never going to admit to liking it. Liking it meant that they would take it away from you, you weren't allowed to have the things you liked in life. 

"Come out Y/n, not all of us have all day." Your mother barked as you glanced over your shoulder at the lady who had helped you get dressed that day she looked just as worried as you did about your mother but this was nothing new to you. Having her decide your every thought and action was nothing new so the fact that she was deciding your wedding dress was acceptable. Taking one last look at yourself you ran your hand down the ballgown and smiled to yourself.  It was a strapless bodice with a plunging necklace, tulle covering everything that needed to be cover and the top looked as though it was a corset. It had white and ivory beading around it to make it look more detailed and the fabrics were a mixture of lazy tulle and Royal organza. Thin layers of lace ranged from the bodice and extended of your hips and sides of the wedding gown, it was ultra-lightweight which meant it was going to be easy for you to walk down the aisle in. Tripping was one less thing you had to worry about. 

Stepping out from the curtain you kept your expression blank and your mouth shut as you stepped in front of your mother and sister waiting for them to say something. In your life, it was spoken when spoken to and never say something unless they've asked for you to say something first. 

"Turn," Your sister barked at you following in her mother's footsteps of giving you orders, you did a small and slow turn waiting for their input before you hear a sniffle coming from your mum. You glanced at her without saying a word knowing that if you even so much as tried to ask what was wrong the blame would be passed onto you.

"It's the perfect gown," She blew her nose into tissue as your sister hugged her from the side, the two of them crying together. 

"She does look beautiful," Your whole body tensed as you heard the bridal worker mention that you were beautiful or even acknowledge that you were the one in the gown, you stared at her with your eyes widened in fear but not for yourself, for her.

"You should be the one in the dress mum, not her but tomorrow will be perfect I promise," You let out a sigh of relief as your sister and mother seemed to ignore the worker's comment. The wedding wasn't about you, it was never going to be about you, it was about your mother and what her wedding should have been. It was the reason the venue had changed almost six times, why your dress was changed around twenty and why the groom was someone your mother picked. It was all about her, never about you. 

"Change. We have the rehearsal dinner in an hour." Your mother snapped as she looked up at you, your stomach growled at the mere thought of food. She'd had you on this crazy diet regime since she found out when the wedding was going to be, she wanted you to look the best of the best.

"Don't even think about it. You'll be having a salad and a drink, that's all you're allowed!" Without another word you walked back behind the curtain waiting for the worker to come and undo the buttons at the back of the dress.

"She seems strict," She whispered to you as soon as the curtain was pulled closed, your eyes stared up into hers in the mirror debating if you could speak without your mother hearing you but you just nodded at her before staring down at the floor. It was better safe than sorry.

Jisung stared at you as he watched you staring down at the plate in front of you, you hadn't said a word to him since arriving at the restaurant and it was beginning to bug him. Normally the girl he was seeing would be talking his ear off trying to get to know every little thing about him and his family but you didn't seem to care.

"I heard you got another wedding dress today, is this one finally "the one"?" Your father in law was just trying to make some light-hearted conversation but Jisung rolled his eyes at the mention of yet another dress. It wasn't your family's money that you were wasting trying on all the different dresses and playing dress-up with all he could think about was how you were using them for his money. Glancing to your mother to see if you had permission to speak you smiled weakly, 

"Yes, the perfect dress for tomorrow.” It wasn’t a lie, it truly was the perfect dress something you would have picked out for yourself given you had the choice in your life. 

“Better be, for the price of it,” Jisung grumbled loud enough for only you to hear, you glanced at him wondering what had gotten his panties in a bunch but he shot you a glare. There was no secret that Jisung had a strong disliking for you but from what your family put him through you didn't blame him, constantly spending his money, changing everything around the wedding and hardly speaking when he was around.

“What’s the point in buying all of the different dresses if none of them was right for you?” He questioned as soon his father began talking with your mother about church arrangements, you looked down at the glass of water in front of you it wasn't like he would understand if you told him or even believe you. 

“A girl has to be sure," You lied speaking in just below a whisper just in case your mother had started paying attention, she'd made a rule of not speaking until she gave you permission. As soon as you and Jisung were married you could do whatever it was you wanted, speak whenever you wanted since having a divorce wasn't going to be an option. She didn't care if you messed things up after the wedding, it was before that she cared about. The wedding was for them, they needed the money and you out of their hair, it was all a convenience for them. Your heart sank inside of you as you caught your sister watching you from across the table, her husband mumbled something about you speaking without permission, it appeared everyone was included in giving you orders. You stared down at the table and began sipping on the water, poking at the salad in front of you and waiting for the whole evening to be over but it seemed to be dragging on. 

"Have you written your own vows or are you going to read the originals?" Jisung's mother questioned when she noticed how awkward things seemed to be between you and her son but you looked at your mother before speaking. 

"We're going to be writing our own," Your head snapped to your mother as well as Jisung's, neither of you knew one another well enough to write your own vows so you were just as shocked as he each other upon hearing your mother say that. 

"We are?" You stumbled out without thinking, silencing yourself as soon as you saw a death glare come in your direction,

"It's a tradition in our family," Your mother said through gritted teeth, taking your hand in hers and squeezing so tightly you thought it was cutting off the circulation to your fingers which didn't go unnoticed by Jisung. His eyes stared down at your hand as he frowned to himself wondering why your mother was the one taking charge of everything, why you would look at her before speaking there was something that didn't add up for him. 

Lingering behind after the rehearsal dinner Jisung took you from behind dragging you over to the toilets and it didn't go unnoticed by your mother who was beginning to panic on the inside that something was going on.

"Do you even want this?" The sudden question made you stare up at Jisung, he was red in the face from walking over to you and it looked as though he was angry about something. 

"Yes, of course," You knew you were going to have to say everything you could to make him stay, if he tried to leave now everything would be blown. You would rather take your chances in a marriage where you don't truly love someone than staying with a toxic family that hated your guts. 

"Why? You don't know me, I don't know you." Your heart was beginning to pump faster, so fast you could practically feel the blood running through your veins as you stared up at him with worry clear on your face.

"We know each other, I know everything about you." It wasn't a lie, you knew everything there was to know about him from the internet but he knew nothing about you, not the real you. He only knew the version your family perceived you to be and that was far from who you really were. 

"You're so sheltered," He sighed as he looked at you, glancing to your mother when he noticed how uneasy you seemed to become without her around. 

"We should take Y/n home, it's a big day for you both tomorrow." The fake sincerity in your sister's tone sent shivers down your spine but you flinched as she touched you, moving away from her so you wouldn't have to deal with her cold touch. Within seconds you were being dragged over to your mother who began dragging you out of the restaurant and towards her car, lecturing you about wandering off unattended.

The next day was supposed to be the best day of your life and yet you were sitting in your wedding dress in your changing room trying not to cry. You'd been woken up early and pushed around from stylist to stylist before finally arriving at the old church your mother had picked out. The altar was decorated to perfection which of course, lead to the comments about how you were never going to match something so perfect and the church outdid everything you were trying to do.

"It's not right," Your mother hissed at you as you raised to your feet waiting for her to nitpick at every detail about that day, your makeup was done the way she wanted, your hair was styled the way she had chosen everything was the way she wanted except for one important thing. It wasn't her getting married. It wasn't her that was going to stand up there in front of everyone and have the wedding of her dreams it was you.

"She won't be our problem in a few hours, we won't have to deal with her." Your father spoke as though you weren't even in the room, the way they always did. It was demeaning and made you feel as though you were nothing but something they had stepped in. That was the one thought getting you through the whole thing, the one thought that was going to keep you strong as you walked down that aisle and into a whole new life. Into your freedom. You'd decided the night before that once you were married you would tell Jisung the truth about everything, about why you were so quiet and what your parents were really like and pray that the two of you could at least be friends. You didn't need a husband and it was clear he did not want a wife.

Organs began to play inside the double doors and you knew it was time to start walking, your father linked his arm with yours as he glanced down at you. 

"You better not trip, this wedding is everything." While normal daughters would exchange fond words with their father yours reminded you that you were imperfect and that he couldn't wait to get rid of you. 

"Head up, back straight, don't slouch," He mumbled before the doors opened but it wasn't the reaction you were hoping to get, a room filled with people and yet they were all whispering and gasping to one another. Your eyes wandered over everyone as you slowly walked up the aisle until you realised what was so shocking to them all. Jisung was nowhere to be seen. His father was seen mumbling to your mother about something before storming out of the church and your father left you standing at the altar to be gawked at as though you were some kind of animal in a zoo. Your sister smirked from the sidelines as she saw your eyes beginning to well up at the thought of being stood up on your own wedding day. 

"We appreciate everyone coming out today," Your father stood in front of you as he began addressing the full church, everyone exchanging comments about what they thought could have possibly happened between you and Jisung for you to be stood up but you were wondering the same thing. 

"Did you say something?!" Your mother screamed as soon as the church was empty everyone had left one by one but not before gawking some more as you stood at the top of the altar, forced to watch as your freedom slowly seeped away from you. Your parents had been yelling accusations at you since the moment the guests all left, you didn't know what to do. Your only means of escape were gone and you had nothing left to loose, you were already a shell of a person. 

"God knows what you said to him last night, something that humiliated us no doubt!" Your father snapped as he threw his hands up into the air, Jisung stopped just outside the door as he heard the yells coming from inside. He had come to speak to you alone thinking your parents would leave you alone for a while but all he could hear was yells. 

"It's your fault he left, you know! You're nothing but a no-good piece of trash!" Jisung flinched for you as he heard your father scream once again he felt his heart sink as he realised why you had been so insistent on the married,

"I did everything to make this perfect for you! I did everything! Everything was perfect except for you!" Their words began to build up and build up until you felt as though you were going to burst with anger. 

"What did I do that made you hate me so much?! What is so wrong with me?" You finally yelled out, staring back at them as they gave you a look of shared shock.

"We took you in! We loved and raised you!" Your mother scoffed at you, 

"Love?! That's what you call love?! Training me never to speak unless spoken to, punishing me whenever I expressed myself!" Everything was finally bursting out of you and you were no longer able to control your feelings.

"I have no freedom! You've kept me in a cage my entire life!" Jisung's hand rested on the door as he waited to see if he should come in, he was impressed to hear that you were standing up for yourself. 

"You should be grateful that we even dealt with you for so long! you're ungrateful," The door opened and you stared at Jisung in fear that he had heard everything that was going on, 

"After everything we've done for you, this is how you show us you're grateful!" You said nothing in response to your mother but Jisung did, he began walking down the aisle and took you by the hand.

"Kids don't need to be grateful! They need to be loved and shown how to live in a world," Your father stepped forward to say something but Jisung slowly tucked you behind his body. 

"You have no idea what-"

"Don't raise your voice at me, Y/n and I are leaving." You frowned as Jisung began to walk you down towards the exit of the church, 

"Together?" You whispered just as confused as everyone else in the room seemed to be around you both,

"Blood is not thicker than peace of mind. Cut toxic family members out of your life," He wasn't speaking to everyone in the room he was speaking to you as he locked eyes with you, he could see how confused you were so he sent you a reassuring smile.

"I'm taking you away from them." He whispered as he began pulling you out of the church and into the parking lot, you didn't know where to start with the questions or if you ever wanted to question him. 

"Get in," He smiled opening the car door and glancing at you as he waited, the dress you were wearing was hiked up to your knees and you climbed inside, looking forward to whatever your life had planned for you with your new freedom. 

"Freedom looks good on you," Jisung chuckled as you laid on the beach, it had been months since your almost wedding and you'd never had to look back on your old family again. Jisung was your family now and he treated you better than anyone else in your life had before.

"It feels good on me too," You whispered turning to lay your head on his chest and look up at him, 

"You're happy, right?" You nodded at his question and he smiled again kissing your lips softly. The two of you began dating not long after leaving your family behind, he was happy to get to know the real you and you fell head over heels in love with one another from the moment you began running away together. He was taking you everywhere you'd ever wanted to go, looking after you the best that he could, making your life together the best it could possibly be.

Tagline: @taestannie​ @sw33tnight​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​ @minholuvs​ @anxiousbobatea​ 

#skz #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #skz imagine #skz imainges #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #Han jisung #jisung #jisung x reader #jisung imagine #jisung imagines #han jisung x reader #han jisung imagine #han jisung imagines

[magicstar16]

Describing invader zim characters like a noir film narrator

Zim:

He was a wild card. One minute he’d be a little angel, and a little devil the next. He was chaotic,  he didn’t just not play by the rules, he’d make up his own. Even then he wouldn’t play by his own rules. Would he play dirty, would he play nice? Would he play a little bit of both? You never knew with this guy. He was like a chihuahua, small and angry, but he made you forget about because he what just so “cute”. He was the kind of guy who looked and acted like he was all bark and no bite. But he could bite when he wanted. And when he bit, he bit HARD!

Dib:

He drew you in, like a moth to a flame. He was the weird kind of guy who you tried to hate, but you just couldn’t. He just MADE you like him. He’d do all these little things that put a smile on your face. A nosey type, always wanted to know what was going on, all the time, anytime, everytime. He looked like the quiet type, but he could ramble on for hours. He was a more subtle wild card. With Zim, you couldn’t understand him even if you tried. But with this guy, you felt like you COULD get him. The guy you’d try to figure out, sometimes when he wasn’t even around. The pieces were all there, but they never connected. He was an engima. A mysterious mystery.

Gir:

A fun-loving mood swinger. But at first, glance, you’d just see a fun loving little dork. He rarely got angry, but when he did, you never expected it, even when there were signs. It just didn’t seem like it was in him. He never made sense, being around him was a fever dream come true. You didn’t know what he was, he was just HIM! If the early 2000s scene and randomness culture had a mascot, it’d be him.

Tak:

A hit and run type. She’d come up to you and she’d make you want her, whether you liked it or not. She’d have on little talk with you. One friendly little talk. That was her gateway drug. The rest of the time she’d play hard to get. Only doing nice things just to give you hope. She’d give you these little hits, both literal and metaphorical. She made you feel liked, or even loved. She knew how to keep you on a leash, and you wouldn’t notice until you were in too deep, when she had you completely wrapped around her finger. She’d do what she needed to do to make you wanna stay, and then she’d leave. The kind of girl who you’d run back to, like you didn’t mind if she ruined your life. You were addicted to her. She was so bad, and yet she made you feel so good. And just when you two were at the best part, the most exciting moment, the moments that get your heart pumping out of your chest, she’d just leave. She’d leave you wanting more, begging for more, even. Like a movie that was setting up for an amazing ending, but ended on an anticlimatic cliffhanger. Leaving you always wanting to know what would happen next. She made sure you NEVER forgot about her, even though she’d be eager to forget about you. The queen of broken hearts.

Gaz:

She always had an air of anger about her. Was she sad? She’d be angry about what made her sad. Was she happy? It was always after a fresh angry rampage. Poker faced? She was hiding a burning rage. The kind who had an “Don’t eff with me vibe”. The kind who’d turn any angry vibes you had into a submissive “Hey you could poor soup into my lap and I’d probably apologize to you” vibe. And yet, despite all her anger, she could still calm down. From a raging wildfire, to a warm flame in a fireplace. But fire was still fire, and everyone knows what happens when you play with fire. A resilient flame, that you had to make sure was put out, or it would start burning again. She was like an onion, or an ogre, she had layers. But all those layers were on fire. Even when she was put out, left a smoking pile of ash, she’d ignite again. It was only a matter of time.

Professor membrane:

This man was like the mascot for humanity’s duality. So rough, but with soft edges. He could create, he could destroy, purposefully, or accidently. So smart, yet so stupid. Much like dib, he was an enigma. An enigma that made you angry. The kind of guy who you would swear wasn’t scientifically possible! He seemed so perfect, and yet so flawed. He was like a bethesda game, he seemed so polished and perfect, yet you could still find bugs in him, whether you were looking hard or not. And yet you couldn’t just NOT like him. Like a big, dumb dog that you couldn’t stay mad at because it was just so lovable.

The tallest:

These two were double trouble incarnate. Red was smooth talker, Purple was a charmer. If you resisted one, the other would pick up the slack. No matter what, you couldn’t get rid of them. Like two little puppies that were glued to your leg. They were so different, and yet so similar. The typical tall, dark, and handsome gentlemen, who you’d fall for if you looked at them a little to long, you would fall under one of their spells. They were two sides of the same coin. Red was a tall drink of water, smooth, refreshing, almost hypnotizing. Purple was a tasty snack, savory and fulfilling, yet never quite fulfilling enough, you couldn’t just have one, you had to have more.

#noir narration #noir film #invader zim #invader tak #dib membrane #Professor Membrane #gir #im so sorry #gaz membrane #this isnt supposed to be romantic #oof

[neptune-midheaven]

💓 Astro Notes PT 3 ! 💓

+I’m definitelyy gonna do sign posts soon, like houses, planets, asteroids, and all, it’s all gonna have a theme to each topic yada yada yadaa, so look outtt+

>A bit of a long post here so have fun scrolling through it hehe :))

*All aries risings have sign/house synchronization because the house order doesn’t move or if it does move at all it hardly does, only shifting by a sign or two depending on how late the ascendant degree is, this is notorious of aries’ independence streak by wanting each sign to be in their native houses, to feel its house’s full power, aries rules 1st the house of identity so there’s the more symbolic way for this occurring. It’s pure energy here.

*Venus-saturn, especially conjunction, definitely carry a big daddy vibe. It’s more prominent if the two are placed in the angular houses.

*Taurus and libra are both rules by venus, but these energies are distributed between the two signs in different ways. A basic way to differ the two energy wise is taurus is the “masculine” side of venus, libra is far more “feminine”. Both are delicate but in different ways taurus is “heavier”, for it being an earth sign, contrasted with the airy and flighty libra.

*Libra sun is in fall in astrology, the fall meaning the behavior of the sign contradicts the traditional role of the planet, the role of the sun is to stand out from everyone else, its your radiance, what makes you special, it’s your ego and what you take pride in. But libra wants to be relatable to everyone, to NOT stand out, merge and meet and balance !! This is the opposite of aries, aries is independent, “what makes ME independent, me me me !!”, explaining its exaltation when the sun enters this sign, it’s not absolutely the same as leo sun or the suns energy overall but it’s a close fit, almost... perfect, that’s what the exaltation means represents here. Libra is focused on everyone else around them, everyone other than themselves, the people around them and how they can compromise to fit everyone’s needs. I mentioned before they don’t like to stand out, this is excluding fire placements in a libras chart which will create a person who relates well to others but still demands to stand out in whatever planet is in a fire sign.

*Whatever house leo is ruling is wherever your rising sign’s ego is being expressed in, ex: leo in 11th expresses their ego, creativity with friends, causes. This area of life is where you’ll likely take most pride in, excluding the suns placement in the chart.

*Neptune in 7th can attract a lot of partners in need of healing or help. This person is very healing and guiding in relationships, maybe they could even make a good guidance counselor, but I’m not so sure astrologically because I haven’t looked into it entirely, let me know if this is true.

*Neptune in 2nd is the type of person to browse a shop, find whatever they like but never end up buying it, they change their minds about it by putting it back right before they leave. They could’ve been talking about hooow much they want to get whatever they’re holding onto over and over again but never buy the thinggg.

*Aries mercury were always told to lower their voice or be quiet as kids I swear.

*Uranus in 12th feels they should hide their brilliance, these are veryy creative people they just keep it a secret.

*12th house feels like a never ending game of hide and seek, you find the planet sometimes but you’re always in a never ending loop, always searching for it.

*The moon in astrology, when looking into the mother, who’s ruled by the moon in astrology, describes your relationship with her, what she’s like, how she raised you etc...

*Ex: taurus moons, your mother gave you many gifts, she adored youu as taurus is ruled venus which rules gifts and appreciation, she was also very relaxed in your childhood, she still is now. This relationship is a very calm, steady one, moon is exalted in taurus meaning the role of the moon is comfortable in relaxed and comfy taurus.

*Ex: a moon in 8th, the house of intense and psychic scorpio, could have a psychic or even telepathic bond to the mother, this is a very strong connection overall and depending on its sign and aspects is where you’ll find the specifics of the relationship from, the details, how the relationship is flavored.

*Sun in 12th indicates an absent father figure. This placement is difficult, i’m so sorry if you have it because you can never feel like you can be yourself, it’s hidden from you. With any other placement in astrology, there’s a gorgeous, forgiving upside to it, you’re very healing and understanding of others, an empath or at least someone who sucks in the negative vibes out the environment, it can get quite exhausting !! so always need to seclude yourself now and then, you’re very loyal and caring of your loved ones, people love you for your sensitivity and empathy as this placement also makes you an old soul, someone overflowing with wisdom others rely on.

*5th house shows you what your child will be like, what traits they embody, what they will do and even how they act.

*Capricorn risings look elvish, they have high cheekbones a lot like a LOTR character and elvish, chiseled ears. It’s not OUT there but it’s subtle.

*Chiron in 9th has experienced religious trauma.

*A lot of 12th or 8th house placements carry a lot of karma.

*Mercury-pluto (especially negative) can become inconsiderate in arguments, they bring up a ton of shit to use against you, only as long as they can win.

*Scorpio suns are far more optimistic and light hearted than the moon sign.

*Mercury-ascendant aspects can make even an introverted rising sign more out-going, open, talkative (not that introverted risings can’t be talkative this is just what comes with this placement).

*You may be good at something without realizing it, take a peak at your 12th house or quintiles !! For quintiles, look up the trine form of whatever two planets are aspected for the general description since there’s not too much to find online sadly. 12th house is something you don’t really know or realize you’re good at, especially early in life, the secret talent pertaining to whichever sign or planet are ruling/in this house.

*Leo venus take pride in their loverss like damnnnn they literally treat their partners as royalty, king and queen, kissing the ground they walk on and everything, they’re so devoted in love, it’s adorable !! <33

*Pisces and leo moons, THE dreamiest, most romantic moon sign pairr, it’s well known pisces is the hopeless romantic of the zodiac, however to bring up the flamboyant, dramatic leo moon when describing a dreamy romantic you wonder, really ?? Yes this is extremely true ! Both signs, pisces and leo, are fairly alike, almost alike in fact, considering they both create a inconjunction in the natal chart, two signs who share some similarities while still contradicting one another in ways they express these similarities, both pisces and leo are creative, talented, have a love for the arts, film, music, loyal as friends and love to care for others, both are insanely idealistic. Leo rules the child remember !! so they’re a childlike sign with young idealism, an idealistic moon sign here. Both leo and pisces moons are children at heart, they’re so gooey and sweet.

*Sun in 10th can get any job they apply for, they could even be terrible at that job they want, the one they want to try out for, they would even have a breakdown over how terrible they were in an interview but still get the job like HOWW- WITCHCRAFTT.

*Aquarius mercuries were known as the smartest kid in class, the einstein’s of the class, everyone asked for their answers for the homework, they just carry this flair of intellectual superiority just like the sun sign haha.

*Your 12th house is what you unconsciously give off the vibe of, your ascendant and midheaven are noticeable layers, different types of layers of you !!but the subtle layers of the 12th house, sign or planet, can always be sensed unconsciously, 12th house energies are at a higher octave, a higher vibration than the other houses, even 11th, you can notice a person’s subtle 12th house energy but they’re still completely unaware of it as it’s ! hidden ! from them.

*Aquarius venus, and really all air venuses in general, are soo stereotyped UGHH, what I mean by stereotyped is the descriptions of each of these venus signs is literally like the same shit over and overrr again, they all get terrible reps in the astro community it seems almost close minded because it’s also such a hugee generalization. It’s only about how the air venus energy is used, manifested in the person, if its underdeveloped or not. If it’s underdeveloped it’s going to be chaotically afloat from material love affairs, which earth venuses don’ttt like, water too, fire can handle the floaty-ness but if the passion’s not there- BYE !! If you develop an air venus well enough, you can balance the material and intellectual realms in your relationships, this is kinda natural for earth heavy charts with one the air signs here, however fire or even more air could become a little tricky to ground yourself in relationships. Just let your partners know you deserve your space because you guys can really run out of mental power after a while, so it’s necessary for you to recharge !! just don’t ghost people completely when you do, it’s where this immortal stereotype comes from.

*Saturn dominant people are flawless beings.

*Saturn in 3rd, YOU GUYS ARE SOOOSOO SOOO SMART AHH. Their minds are always running at a fast pace like literal lightning, or they become too overwhelming (not in a bad sense ofcc, it’s just how it is) that the person’s speech rhythm is kinda forgotten about in a way, it feels like that their mouths aren’t always running in sync. The thought they’re going to express into words should come out but it’s so quick or even “heavy” it jumbles up a sentence or it causes the person to mix up a word or two. Their minds are fast fast fastt but they feel like their mouths are running in literal slow motion. There’s nothing wrong with this, this placement makes amazingly smart peoplee. Just relax, try letting yourself go in conversation, let all that big, brain energy freee !!

*Alsoo, as singers they would and definitely ALWAYSS get their notes right, they have actual PERFECT voices, they really should become writers or, like I said, singing would be perfect for them because they would never mess up lmaoo.

*Libra, computerized concern and sympathy...

*Pluto in 8th feel unbeatable, indestructible almost, they have above average regenerative abilities, they have the best survival tactics but they keep it a secret, it’s 8th house we’re talking about.

*Whatever saturn is in is the area where you’ll become flawless in, you’ll master that area throughout your life with time.

*There is a guiding planet in astrology, the planet that is closest behind the sun, it’s considered your “second” chart ruler, or basically has the energy of it because you can probably relate to it being one of the most prominent energies in your chart.

*Sagittarius//9th house mercury is soooo blunt, so blunt. Wait did I mention they’re SOOO SO BLUNT.

*Moon in 5th need to perform, they love to get out on stage and perform with their entire hearts, they’ll do amazing in the performing arts, theatre, and honestly they probably already aree. These people are so playful and generally so fun to be around, they’re natural hypemen as well !!

*Taurus venus love to be appreciated by their partners, the gifts, the kisses, the food and allll.

*Neptune in 3rd feel everything in their environment, they can sift through the energies and vibes, it’s second nature, no not second nature, FIRST nature, they’re one with everything around them. Their minds are like a hazy, cloudy ocean containing every drop, every thought of a place, a person.

*Moon in 11th, and 10th too, have a special ability to understand and sympathize with the public, they always know what the public wants and even how to give it to them. This can easily get them famous since they’re extremely understanding people, especially if moon is healthy in the chart.

*Someone with a lot of capricorn/10th house or aquarius/11th house energy is very extroverted, they enjoy socializing with others but suffer from social burn outs often, they often need to recharge.

*Scorpio risings have intense voices, like their tone radiates throughout your head and it can feel intense overall, even when they’re speaking casually. The specific flavor or tone doesn’t matter but how it sounds overall is piercing.

*In astrology, libra rising starts the house cusps with each houses sister signs ruling each cusps ex: pisces rules 6th house, the house of virgo in astrology. Symbolically, libra wants to balance out the houses by blending the energies with the sister signs together, by with what is (house number) and how it’s done (sign on each house cusp), for balanceee !!

*Moon conjunction uranus TRANSITSS can cause literal earthquakes on earth, shocking news or something shocking or groundbreaking will happen that day either around the world and in personal, daily life. Ex: this transit happened on halloween during the blue moon, so basically no one ever trick or treats in my neighborhood, like barely anyone comes out i mean, it’s always 5 houses apart where people typically hand out candy, some people are just hanging out, we always run out of houses to go to since it’s not very active, but this year EVERYONE was out trick or treating it was so crazy to see so many people out, it was quite literally shocking because that actually never happens also there’s a whole pandemic going on too lmaooo.

#astrologyobservations #astro notes #astrology

[renaissaine]

another random ppg and rrb headcanon now for fashion and vibes.

Vibes u get from the boys:

Brick - you do not want to mess with this man. you don’t even wish to steal a glance at him. just leave him to silently brood and mutter under his nose. cold, arrogant, quiet but dangerously smart and calculating. anger issues of the roof. has no need for friends or people in general. but can be suprisingly gentle (if you catch him offguard) and has a special eye for all things beautiful.

Butch - this dude seems kinda fun but also kinda like he would push you off the cliff just because. if you happen to be on his good side, he is the most fun to be around - expect plenty of dangerous adventures and hilarious situations. but if u piss him off he will torment you for his own entertainment. and he knows no boundaries. on the other hand, he is the most in tune with his feelings out of the brothers - he hides nothing and is not ashamed of anything.

Boomer - seems very sweet on the outside, like he wouldn’t hurt a fly. then he gets very dark very quick. he upholds his favourable social status by emotional manipulation and deceit, but secretely has major issues with understanding empathy and love. has no qualms about getting rid of someone once they have fulfilled their role in his life. but deep inside he is just a crybaby in need of constant attention.

Vibes you get from the girls:

Blossom - you know the drill. competitive, bossy, too smart for her own good, has her whole life planned ahead. she carries herself with such dignity and grace that Brick has to think twice before opening his lousy mouth. strong need-no-man femme fatale mindset. but is very lonely and over-burdened. never gives up and is the most reliable and responsible out of everyone.

Buttercup - at first you think she is this tough skinned one-of-the-boys superhuman that is easy-going and chill. then u discover that she is anxiety-ridden over the smallest things and sensitive to every situation that involves confronting her emotions. suprisingly feminine when she lets her guard down. queen of mood swings.

Bubbles - what a ray of sunshine. she looks super approchable, friendly, bubbly and a bit quirky. emotionally the most mature and handles stress situations very well. gives the best advice. but after a while you learn that it’s impossible to get to know her on a deep personal level, bc she’s got WALLS, man. she can also be suprisingly cold and devoid of all emotion.

Fashion

Brick - this man cannot dress to save his life. you can’t even say he’s got a terrible sense of fashion because he’s got no taste at all - he is completely disinterested in all things popular. he throws on whatever he finds first. the most he will do is put on that damned red hat and call it a day. it’s usually Boomer that buys him new clothes when Brick has worn his to absolute shit. generally prefers dark colours and baggy clothes if he has to choose.

Butch - this motherfucker is one of the most well dressed people in the city. loves to take care of his body and that includes looking like a 5 star gourmet meal. loves everything gold and expensive looking. if he could he would flaunt around in gucci suit smiling from behind a pair of $$$ sunglasses . And yes, Buttercup absolutely hates it.

Boomer - he is somewhere in the middle. he cares about presentation but not enough to spend hours thinking about his wardrobe. he dresses alternatively - dark shades of blue and black, double layered shirts, bucket hats, chains, rings, nail polish, skater pants. the centre of attention for all goth alt bitches.

Blossom - is somewhat interested in fashion. very rigid in her style and it would take tremendous effort to make her experiment. minimalist, soft academia, light cream soft pink colours, knitwear, cardigans, long cotton skirts, silk, berets, short scarfs. the soft traditional parisian beauty.

Buttercup - very casual, comfortable and sportsy. She prioritizes practical clothing, ones that allow her to move freely and are resistant to damage and tearing. imagine cargo pants, bike shorts, leggings, tank tops, vests, sport bras, zip ups, lots of elastic stuff, running shoes. she has a few dresses for special occasions - likes moderate midi dresses in all shades of green.

Bubbles - loves and breathes fashion - but she likes to do her own thing with complete disregard for current trends. just a big mashup of every style imaginable - lolita, grunge, cottagecore, bohemian, funky etc. bright colours always. luna lovegood core and harajuku inspo. lots of handmade stuff - dyi jewelry, tie dye shirts, randomly sewn together pieces. likes glitter and fluffy things - can look over the top and childish but she couldn’t care less.

#ppg #rrb #powerpuffgirls #rowdyruffboys #sbj more than human #blues #reds #greens #bubbles utonium #blossom utonium #buttercup utonium #brick #boomer #butch

[sambvcks]

crawl home to her, b.b. x reader

chapter three // didn’t care much how long i lived

summary: bucky receives a lesson on modern music over cheap beers and freshly baked scones.

warnings: mentions of abuse, food, alcohol consumption, character death (sorry)

word count: 1.6k

author’s note: besties...how we feeling about today’s episode??? using this as a coping mechanism :)

[ read on ao3 | series masterlist | inbox | join my taglist! ]

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Your record collection was extensive and collecting an unhealthy layer of dust since you had inherited them from your grandmother. It didn’t take long to fish out a Best Of album from the vast shelves, handing over the sleeve to Bucky, who sat patiently on your forest green couch, as you fiddled with the turntable’s needle.

To busy himself, he read over the repertoire of songs listed on the back.

“Let’s Get It On?”

“Usually, a guy buys a girl dinner first, Bucky.” You took a cheeky swig of your beer with an eyebrow raise as he flushed at the insinuation. “We’ll start easy. If I Could Build My Whole World Around You. A criminally under-appreciated love song.”

A bouncy beat crackled through from the speakers as you settled into the couch beside him, tucking your legs beneath you. Today’s choice of pajama bottoms displayed little snowflakes across a navy background, despite the heat outside that still lingered into nighttime.

“I like it.” Bucky decided.

“Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell have so many amazing songs together. She might not sound like it on record, but she had a hard life. Abusive, cheating partners. Brain cancer that killed her young. Hard to know what anyone’s going through behind closed doors.”

I’d put so much love where there is sorrow, I’d put joy where there’s never been before.

“I really like it.”

Your apron still hung from your waist, the gentle tick of the kitchen timer in the shape of a grey cat sat by your side. A reminder of the scones you were whipping up when Bucky unexpectedly appeared on your doorstep. You didn’t question him or bring up the late hour. Simply ushered him in with a smile and a beer shoved into his gloved hand.

Bucky feels comfortable for the first time in a long time. Eyes focused, mind stagnant. Your perfume, woodsy and natural, lingers in the air and he has to take a long gulp of his drink just to occupy himself for just a second.

“I’m glad you like it. Though, I don’t know if I’ve ever met someone who doesn’t like Marvin Gaye. It’s like not liking Queen.”

“Queen?”

The timer rattled on the coffee table and the smell of vanilla and blueberries nipped at Bucky’s nose.

“Saved by the bell! I don’t have the time to berate you on not knowing about Queen.”

You bustled your way back into the kitchen, sliding oven mitts onto your hands as you inspected the oven with a professional certainty. The record out and into the next track as Bucky watched on, your shoulders swaying to the slow tempo. You were light on your feet as you plucked one tray from the heat and replaced it with another.

It was so easy for Bucky to imagine this world as his, with the soft swing of Motown as the soundtrack to your shared afternoons. In a different life, he would come home to your baking, ask how studying went as you swayed in the kitchen together. You would wash dishes next to one another, hips pressed close, and giggle when he would press his sudsy hands onto your cheeks. You would smear remnants of cake batter on his and he would let you feed him dessert from your fingers.

It wasn’t possible, he knew. Probably ever. You would be graduating school soon, off to be an important attorney and he would still just be your across the hallway neighbor who you sometimes shared desserts and pleasantries with. You would find out who he was eventually. Everyone did. You would leave. Everyone did.

You would simply be another in a long line of failed attempts by James Buchanan Barnes.

Still, he thought, we can have this one simple night. Where you don’t know who he is, and he can imagine that it lasts long after he retreats back to his apartment.

‘Heaven must have sent you from above.’ Crooned the lovesick singers on your record player.

As you returned to the living room with another beer and the promise of scones as soon as they cooled, Bucky could only think one thing.

He was definitely starting to like Marvin Gaye.

He was starting to like you, too.

When he returned back to his apartment, hours later with a pile of records you insisted he borrow in his arms and a belly full of blueberry scones, he fell into bed without a care in his mind. It was his first full night of sleep in ninety years.

-

Bucky started appearing on your doorstep more often.

Your number was now saved in his phone and was his most frequently used contact. You were his secret, though, something he didn’t even share with Dr. Raynor. No matter how many times she tried to get him to speak about his troubling lack of acquaintances.

You were the one thing in the world untouched by all the destruction waging a war between his ears, you were easy and simple and God, it had been a long time since anything had been simple. You didn’t mind that he was brooding and a little bit clueless, or his cheesy jokes and complaints about technology these days.

His record collection was quickly growing, though it was still nowhere near yours.

Most of all, he liked sitting in your apartment, at your kitchen counter or on that forest green sofa of yours. Sometimes, you would let him pick a record and tell him everything you could remember about it. Other times, you would read from your heavy law books and he’d pretend to understand the cases and terminology, head resting against the back of your couch, admiring how your brows would furrow in concentration. He’d tell you not to hunch over your book, but you’d insist you were fine, only to be complaining about your neck the next time he saw you.

“I wish I read more actual books, you know? It seems like all I know these days are case studies.”

The next visit he’d have a worn copy of one of his favorite books tucked under his arm. He’d read to you until you’d doze off to the stories of Bilbo Baggins and his team of dwarves, a blanket tucked up to your neck.

Every visit cemented yourself further and further into his identity, until his trips to the used bookstore down the block became weekly and his morning runs became longer as you pushed more and more baked goods his way. You’d kiss his cheek as you said your goodbyes, leaning against your doorframe as he disappeared into his apartment.

He was happy. Positively, unbelievably happy.

-

Two days before Bucky’s next scheduled visit, Steve died in his sleep.

Pneumonia, or something, Bucky didn’t really comprehend any of the newscast beyond the headline ‘CAPTAIN AMERICA DEAD’ flashing in bold letters across his television screen.

Sam called early that morning and Bucky just knew. He knew what was waiting for him on the other end of that call, so he shut his phone off and laid back on the hardwood floor of his living room, dead to the world.

He didn’t speak to anyone for a few days, not even bothering with his daily runs or grocery store trips. Your knocks at his door went unanswered, with no trace that you had even stood in the hallway waiting for him other than a batch of oatmeal raisin cookies on his doormat. The only appointment he kept was his therapy, where he stared out the window and counted down the minutes until he could leave. Each attempt on Dr. Raynor’s part to bring up Steve was shut down as quickly as it was brought up.

Finally, a week later, a pounding at the door woke him from a restless afternoon nap.

“Buck, I know you’re in there.”

Sam. Of course.

“These boxes are heavy, come on!”

Sam Wilson took up Bucky’s entire doorway with his broad shoulders, the boxes stacked in his arms taking up the rest. Bucky was quick to usher him in the door, eyeing yours across the hall. He knew one look at an Avenger on his stoop would finally connect the dots for you, and you’d never speak to the Winter Soldier again.

“Keep your voice down.” Bucky shoved the final box through the doorway before securing the lock in place.

Sam surveyed his barren living room, eyes flicking to the crumpled bedsheets gathered on the floor next to his sofa but didn’t linger for long.

“I was worried about you, man.”

It used to be ‘we’, but now it’s just Sam.

“Nothing to worry about.” Bucky pushed past him to his kitchen, collecting stray dishes he hadn’t bothered to move to the sink before then. He felt Sam’s careful gaze on him the entire time. He hated that. He hated how much Sam cared.

He mostly hated how much it reminded him of Steve.

“Found these boxes in Steve’s attic. Had your name on them so I thought you might want ‘em.”

Bucky swallowed hard, focused on scrubbing the dishes under water so hot it was turning the skin on his flesh hand a violent red.

“I know this is hard, Buck-”

The glass he had been rinsing shattered between his fingers and Sam took a step back as Bucky heaved in uneven breaths. There was a long silence between the two grieving men, neither able to fully understand the other. Sam would never feel Bucky’s ninety-year heartache, the abandonment and fear of the life ahead of him. Bucky would never understand the weight on Sam’s shoulders or his unease at the shield tucked under his bed at home.

“I just want to be alone.”

Sam could do nothing but respect his wish.

“Call if you need anything.” Were his departing words as he showed himself out.

Bucky got to work cleaning up the broken glass.

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #marvel imagine #tfatws imagine #tfatws

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.05

10/28/2020

Preparations

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 6,652

Warnings: angst, slight smut?, language, fluff

A/N: Thank you everyone, for putting up with my emotional ass. After some thought, and when I was feeling better and not so sad (?), I really didn’t wanna make those of you keeping up with the story wait for the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy this one and if you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other blogs or sites.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The city is lively with beautiful Asgardians rushing about their daily lives. In the time since it’s completion, New Asgard and its inhabitants have settled into a routine. New lives on a planet now once again full of growth, community interaction, and celebration when the time is right.

“We’ll give you a proper tour tomorrow.” Brunnhilde says, reaching forward to tap the shoulder of the man driving you both. “Stop here.”

“Wait, aren’t you coming with me?” You ask, startled as she throws open the back door of the sleek black sedan.

“No. I have other things to prepare for the wedding and then I have to check in on my Valkyrie. Your escorts will meet you at the shop.” Brunnhilde assures you.

“But-”

“Bye!” She smiles at you and slams the door in your face.

You sit there, confused and at a loss. Your anxiety begins to mount when the driver, a handsome young Asgardian man with long braided black hair, clears his throat and draws your attention to the front.

“Shall I drive on Your Highness?” He asks, glancing in his rearview mirror at you.

“Um…” You’ll never get used to that stupid your highness stuff. “Yes.”

“Very good, Your Highness.”

“Can’t you just call me, Y/N?” You ask, feeling awkward.

“No.” He says, a smile on his face. “I cannot. I can see why his Majesty has chosen you.”

You’re surprised by this statement, and you’re pretty sure it’s insolent maybe? You don’t know because this is all new to you, but you don’t really care either way.

“Why?”

“You don’t remember me?” He asks, as he drives down the street.

As they pass, the Asgardians stop in their walking or talking or errand running to watch you drive by. Some of them smile with excitement, even moving with the car a few steps before stopping.

They’re all dressed normal. Asgardian garb abandoned to fit in on Earth. Not all of them. Some still wear their own clothes. Some of them wear a mixture of both. It’s a mish-mash of two cultures and you understand the need for a human Queen a little more.

“No.” You shake your head, giving the driver your full attention.

“I didn’t think you would.” He admits, smiling still. “You were very nervous when I first drove you up to the palace. Quite literally shaking in your pretty shoes.”

Was he your driver then too?!

“Alas, I understand his Majesty’s choice because you were the only woman that sat in my car and spoke to me. You may not have been aware enough to remember me, but you were very kind. Very concerned about me despite the stress you were in.” He looks in his rearview mirror again, meeting your eyes. “My wife gave birth, by the way.”

“Oh!” Your mind is struck with an unfocused conversation, hazy but you remember the pregnant wife. “I remember!”

You’re way too excited about remembering and the driver chuckles.

“Was it a boy or a girl?” You ask eagerly.

“A girl.” He smiles. “We’ve named her Luta.”

“Congratulations!” You exclaim gently, so happy for him.

“Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll tell my wife you said so.” He promises.

“I’d love to meet her.” You hope, leaning forward to get a better look at the side of his face.

“I’m not sure that will be possible. You’ll be terribly busy, and my wife is also with our little girl.”

“What if I came to pay her a special visit?” You really want to meet her.

“If you could find the time, Your Highness, my wife and I would be happy to receive you.” He smiles.

“I’m sorry if you told me last time we met, but what is your name?”

“Armod, Your Highness.” He tells you, turning down a second and smaller street.

The people are still dense, gathered around stalls and smaller shops as Armod drives a little slower to keep a careful eye on the families attending what must be an early morning market.

You take it in as quickly as you can, devouring the sight of these beautiful people and in return they turn to watch you go by.

They turn to each other, have quick and silent—to you—exchanges before a few of them begin to turn and wave.

Nervous, you wave timidly, smiling because you can’t help it. It isn’t a conscious decision.

The side street is so packed with stalls that it makes it impossible for people to follow the car at the speed it’s going, even reduced.

You’re a little grateful. You don’t want to get mobbed without someone else here to dilute the excitement.

“The people are very excited to see their future Queen.” Armod explains, “Forgive them their exuberance.”

“I hope I don’t disappoint them.”

As the crowd thins out, and Armod pulls the car into a gentle stop, he shakes his head, “Trust me, Your Highness, you won’t.”

Your car door opens. Into your view slides a pale white hand, luxurious suit jacket sleeve barely hiding the equally expensive white button-up underneath.

“Your Highness,” greets a familiar voice.

Taking his hand, Loki pulls you from the car, helping you stand and even reaching down to adjust the long train of your right sleeve.

The dress is sparkling blue, a body-hugging gold silk dress underneath the top sheer voile blue layer on top. The right sleeve is long, ends at your wrist, with a train that flows down at an equal length to that of your skirt. The left side is sleeveless.

You’re nervous about the deep V of your bodice, the scrunched-up shoulders of your dress carefully balanced there but too precarious for your liking.

With he sun out, the chill in the air isn’t so bad, but here in the shade of what must be the bridal shop, you shiver.

“You look lovely.” Loki smiles.

“I look stupid.” You counter, feeling very exposed and not at all pretty with how tight the dress feels.

“Allow me to politely disagree.” Loki takes your hand and leads it around his elbow as become aware of the people gathering around to catch a look at you. “I think the crowd would agree with me.”

“Can we go inside, please?” You beg, waving at the small group as other begin to flock from their spots at distant stalls to join the crowd.

“Of course.” Loki taps your hand then escorts you into the shop.

You relax a little once you’re inside and warm.

A middle-aged looking woman moves towards the two of you, her hand subtly stroking a large fold of crimson fabric on the low center shelf before she reaches you and then dips into a low curtsy before rising and grabbing her hands to hold at chest level.

“Good morning, your Highnesses!” She exclaims, gushing to an embarrassing degree.

“Good morning, Gorm. How are you?” Loki asks politely.

He doesn’t seem truly interested in her answer, but he waits kindly while she flusters with the honor of his polite concern.

“I am much better now that you and our King Thor’s lovely intended have arrived. Such an honor to meet you, Your Highness.” She says, addressing you directly.

“Thank you.” You reply, startled by her a bit. “It’s so great to meet you.”

“Tell me, Gorm, have you received His Majesty’s instructions on the dress we’d like?” Loki checks.

“Oh, yes, Your Highness! I’ve been working non-stop on several options since I received them.” She assures him, gesturing back towards a doorway past a long wooden counter with a modern cash register and signature pad for credit cards.

“Excellent.” Loki smiles. “Now, while I hate to do this to you, love—do you think you can handle a few hours alone with Gorm to do your fitting?”

“You’re leaving?” You ask, once again shocked, just like with Brunnhilde.

“I’m afraid I have several other things to do for the wedding and with the Earth and Asgardian ambassadors eager to have the wedding as soon as possible, I have to take every chance I can get to run these errands. Not like I have anything better to do…” Loki’s voice is slightly bitter, but only for a moment before he taps your hand again. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back long before you’re finished. Gorm doesn’t leave anything to chance with her gowns and this one is the most important one you will wear in your life. We have to get it right, don’t we Gorm?”

Gorm is already nodding, her blonde graying hair flowing like waves across her shoulders as she does. “Oh, yes, Your Highness. I will make sure that not only will the dress fit His Majesty’s expectations, but you too shall feel beautiful and like the dress was made just for you, Your Highness.”

“There you are.” Loki smiles. “I’ll be back.”

He pulls your hand up to his lips to kiss your knuckles before letting it go and moving towards the door, leaving you and Gorm to stand awkwardly for a few moments after the door shuts behind him.

“Shall we?” She gestures back towards the doorway and since there’s no way to get out of this, you fix her with a nervous smile and nod.

“Yes.” You sigh, and follow her, making sure to hold onto the counter as your round it so that you don’t trip on your train.

~~~~~~~~~~

Stomach absolutely growling, you slip your arms through the sleeves of the dress you’ve pretty much settled on.

The past five hours have had you step in and out of two other dresses three times, and this one a total of eight times. Each time so that Gorm can make alterations to length and cut and detail.

It’s surprising to you that this particular dress should need so much maintenance when it’s the simplest of the bunch.

You’d fallen for it almost at first sight but had tried the other two more frilly dresses to appease Gorm since Thor had requested something feminine to counteract the armor you’d be wearing on the day.

Armor you had no idea would be required in your wedding until Gorm explained the necessity for bodices without much flair.

“Alright, Your Highness,” Gorm smiles at you, holding the dress low and open for you to step through. “Once more, and then I think we are done.”

You let her slip the dress over you, layer after layer of smooth satin with one final crepe layer on top. The dress is eggshell white, soft, and easy on the eye.

Some white fabrics nearly burn your retinas, but this one is pleasant to look at.

It stops just around your shoulders, leaving them exposed. The neckline curves down with your bust just a little making the top look like a heart, the point of which is followed all the way down with a line of stitched white buttons.

They’re purely decorative because behind you is where Gorm stands to zip the dress closed.

She closes a small clasp and then folds out the layers of skirt around you.

It’s not as long as the blue dress you wore here today. Simpler and easier to walk in. The sleeves themselves are long, which you appreciate very much in this weather. Every bit of the dress now settles along your curves just right.

“Oh, this was the right choice, I think.” Gorm smiles wide. “You look beautiful, Your Highness. His Majesty is a very lucky man.”

You smile in return, flattered by her words for a moment because you forget that Thor has been with Jane all morning. As you remember, your smile falters then fades as the worries you had this morning come rushing back.

“You don’t like it?” Gorm asks, reaching down to stroke the long and beautiful skirt.

“Oh, no. I love the dress, Gorm. I’m just…worried about His Majesty liking it.” You smile at her, to reassure her. She’s done such amazing work. You might have her make all of your gowns from now on. Unless…?

“Gorm? Were you the one that made the dress I came in wearing today?” You wonder.

“No.” She shakes her head. “I’m afraid I did not have that pleasure.”

“How much of an imposition would it be if I made you my sole dressmaker? His Majesty has bought me some gowns to wear when appropriate, but I don’t feel like they’re my style.”

“Oh, Your Highness! It would be an honor to be your personal dressmaker!” She’s so flustered that she excuses herself and vanishes into the front of the shop to get her water.

You turn your gaze onto yourself in the mirror, all three angles looking back at you.

The dress really is unbelievably beautiful. You would never have thought that this dress and its style would have looked good on you, but it fits around your curves so seamlessly. This dress was literally made for you and it’s very noticeable.

As you turn around one final time, a small chuckle from the doorway pulls your eyes away from your reflection.

“I’m glad to see you haven’t put up such a fight over this.” Loki moves towards you, stopping a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You should have seen me wrestle with the other two.” You sigh. “Can we go? I’m so hungry.”

Almost as if on cue, your stomach growls.

“Yes.” Loki nods. “We can go. I’ve got lunch waiting for you back in the palace.”

“Is Thor back?” You hop off the box you’d been standing on, grabbing your skirts and then dropping them to cascade around your legs like a milky waterfall.

Loki’s smile falter. “I’m afraid not. But don’t worry, he’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

You’re so disappointed you wander away from him into the dressing room to change back into your blue dress without giving him any sort of answer.

He’s got you in the car, your forehead resting against the glass of the window, lost in thoughts of Thor and Jane when he speaks to you again.

“Might I ask you a favor, sister?” He probes gently.

Him calling you his sister makes your stomach tumble.

You have a brother! How can you ever explain this happiness?

“Sure.”

“I hope you don’t find me insolent, but-” He hesitates, thinking about the words he’s about to say hard before he meets your eyes and that seems to strengthen his resolve. “Don’t fall in love with Thor. Not yet. Don’t let him pull you in right away.”

“You think he’ll leave me for Jane?” You wait, watching as Loki thinks through your accusation.

“Not exactly, but yes. I suppose that’s a possibility I hope you can avoid.”

For a few minutes while Armod drives you back to the palace, you say nothing. You consider his request and the honest concern that he seems to have for you.

As Armod pulls into the large multi-car garage at the back of the palace, you turn to Loki and stare sadly.

“I can’t make that promise, Loki.” You shrug. “It’s already too late for that.”

“You love him?” Loki realizes.

“No!” You deny, “Not exactly. I don’t love him yet, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t very fond of him already. He-he kissed me last night.”

Loki’s brow furrows.

“A lot actually. He begged me to try and love him just as he would try to love me. I promised him I would try.” As if you’ll need to try.

You’re already hopelessly possessive over him. Maybe not him as a person, but rather those kisses he gave you. Those are your kisses now. Those thick arms he held you in, those are your arms—your hugs!

And now he might be in the United States giving those very things that are now yours alone to Jane who wouldn’t even marry him?

“It’s too late.” You reiterate, feeling absolutely lost.

“Come on, Your Highness. Let’s get you a late lunch.”

~~~~~~~~~~

If there isn’t a trail across your floor after all of the pacing you’ve done today, you’d be surprised.

“This won’t make him come back any faster.” Brunnhilde points out.

“Do I really have to model the wedding dress for him?” You ask, twisting your fingers nervously as you move up and down your room.

“I think it would be good for him.” Brunnhilde explains. “And yes. He won’t see your armor until the day of the wedding, but the dress will help make it more real for him. He needs that. So do you.”

“It’s already real for me Brunnhilde.” You lift your thumb nail to your teeth and nip, like a nervous pup, stopping at the heavy doors of the balcony.

They’ve been thrown open and the chilly air filtering in makes you shiver.

“Hilde.” Brunnhilde corrects, then moves to take a long wine-colored woolen shawl and drapes it over your shoulders as you stare out at the bustling city.

You can hear laughter, lots of merrymaking. The Asgardian people know how to enjoy their free time, but you’ve seen how hard they work too. As a whole. Loki assured you on the way home that there are just as many lazy time wasters among them as there are humans.

“Why are you fretting?” She sits at the desk, staring up at you with curious dark eyes.

“Because he’s been with Jane all day.” You lash out.

It’s not a scream, just pure exasperation. And immediately, you feel sorry.

“I’m sorry.” You sigh, dropping your hand but pulling the shawl around you tighter.

You notice it finally.

“Oh, thank you.” You really feel bad now.

“You’re acting like you’re already in love with him.” She teases, not caring one bit about your little tantrum.

Through the corners of your eyes you look at her, avoiding her piercing look.

“Y/N…?” She wonders, leaning forward to get a better look at you.

“I don’t love him, alright? I just…” You sigh. “No one’s ever kissed me before.”

Your feel your neck and ears burn, scorching with embarrassment as you admit just how much of a maiden she’d found for him.

“So, you really are a virgin?” She gasps, leaning almost her entire body along the desk to look at your face.

You frown at her. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No.” She hakes her head. “No, not at all. You’re just so…well, you’re beautiful.”

The laugh that slips through your lips is sudden and honest.

You stare at her, shaking your head because you don’t believe her one bit.

“I’m serious!” Hilde assures you, smiling and amused by your reaction. “It’s a little bit of a shame that you haven’t been fawned on before.”

The sprinkle of sadness in her voice exposes her real meaning and it wipes away all traces of flattery.

“You mean, it’s a shame that I haven’t been with someone who will really love me because they choose to? And not like Thor because he has to?” With a bit more desperation, you look for Armod’s car, needing to see Thor.

Everything that happened last night feels like a dream. Made up in your mind to make it easier to marry Thor. Was it a dream?

You don’t remember him telling you goodnight. You have the vague memory of falling asleep with your head on his shoulder but you’re not sure how real that is with how hazy it feels.

What if his kisses had been a hopeful wish?

You bite your bottom lip, the heat and weight of his lips still fresh in your memory.

It can’t have been a dream. It felt so amazing. You could never have imagined the way it felt for him to invade you the way he did, pulling your body against his.

“He doesn’t come by car, y’know?” Hilde says, sitting back in her seat.

“What?” You turn to her, eager for explanation.

“Thor?” She gestures at the sky outside, drawing your eyes away from the city in the distance and up to the stars. “He flies here on Earth. It’s faster than flying by plane, but not by much. He’ll be going straight to his room as soon as he gets back.”

“Oh.” Your disappointment is suffocating and because you have no reason to keep freezing to death, you close the balcony doors.

With the cold shut out the heat from the hidden vents in your room saturates your shawl and envelopes you in a cocoon of heat.

“He might not want to see me tonight.” You accept, knowing that even if things went as best as they could have, Thor will still be heartbroken.

Having to give up on a relationship he had been so invested in? Even if he’s been unhappy with it lately, it must be difficult.

“No. He might not. But he has no choice. The wedding is in three days, so we have no time to wait for him to be ready to see you. We need approval on the dress.” She explains, leaving no room for argument.

Which is a shame because you would rather not see him all torn up about Jane. Not that you wouldn’t like to give him comfort. But you doubt that seeing you is something Thor would want. Not when it’s your fault that he has to break up with Jane to begin with.

“You know what? I’ll go check to see if he’s back. Gorm already sent us the dress. I’ll have Estrid help you put it on.” Hilde rises, moving out of the room without waiting for you to agree.

Five minutes later, Estrid moves into the room, her arms cradling your beautifully crafted wedding dress.

“Shall I do your hair too, Your Highness?” She asks, and lays the dress on your bed, the color such a beautiful contrast to the deep plum colored sheets.

“My hair?” You look in the mirror and the fancy thing they’d done with it this morning is falling apart. “No. I’m okay, Estrid. Thank you.”

“Very well, Your Highness.” She smiles kindly then moves towards you and takes your shawl.

You turn for her and she begins to unzip your blue dress, your mind on Thor and the mood he might be in when you see him again.

~~~~~~~~~~

The hesitation is in more than just your fist, hovering over the dark wooden of Thor’s bedroom door. It’s tall. Taller than it probably needs, sitting within a stone arch decorated with stunning golden engravings.

You’re not sure why Brunnhilde left you to do this alone. Loki is busy with something secret that he doesn’t want to share with you yet.

Not wedding related. He says it’s important and it involves you to some degree, but it’s not necessary for you to know until it’s necessary for you to know. Which is a circle-jerk kind of logic that you’re kind of annoyed by.

He’s nicer than previous opinions of him have made him seem. You suppose that has to do with the growth he’s made since he was last on Earth.

New York hadn’t been a great time for Loki, and he could only go up from there.

Brunnhilde had also neglected to tell you how Thor was feeling. Or looking? Either would have been great before you committed to coming up here on your own.

Thor’s bedroom is at the highest point of the palace. That is, highest save for the last floor which is mostly a defense tower full of weapons and a constant guard to keep Thor and his future wife safe. Which is now gonna be you.

Unless you go into his room and he tells you that he can’t stand being without Jane and rejects you and this pretty dress and you have to go back home to live just as you had before you met him. Only now with his kisses in your mind, his massive body pressed to yours, you won’t be able to get over the future you’d been promised.

How had you gone from refusing to marry him to wanting nothing more than to be his wife and even if all he was able to give you was one of those stupid kisses from last night, you’d be satisfied?

You drop your hand, almost with your mind made up to give up and just go back to your room because you don’t think you have the nerve to go through with seeing him today.

The part of you that disagrees, that remembers last night and wants more lifts your hand and knocks on his door.

In shock, you wait until his voice comes through and finally take a breath.

“Estrid? Is that you?” Thor’s voice sounds tired, not broken, but you can hear the weight in his heart by the sound of him.

You open the door and peek in, just one eye and the room is astoundingly beautiful.

If you weren’t so scared of what you’ll find in Thor, your jaw would drop ant the stunning image. To the left are two doorways, one is open, and you can see a large bathroom within. At the center of the room is what looks like a small kiddie pool, recessed into the floor, but probably deep enough for Thor to stand in?

There’s a part on this floor that’s shaped strangely from the outside and wonder if that’s what it is. The floor is dark stone tile, smooth and probably treated for waterproofing. Along the far wall of the bathroom, you can see a long wooden bench, dark oak like all of the other woods in the room from what you can see.

The toilet must be somewhere to the left where you can’t see from where you stand.

The other door is shut but since there is only an ornate set of drawers to the right of it, you assume that inside must be a large closet.

To the right of the room is a large bed. Large bed. You’ve never seen one so big.

It must be a California King? Which you’d stumbled upon in your search for mattresses when you’d first moved into your home. An accidental find and completely unnecessary.

That is, until now, when the thought of Thor laying in your very normal sized bed flits across your mind and suddenly the large King makes much more sense.

The bed is covered in soft looking gray flannel sheets. The comforter is gorgeous too, luxurious in its cotton ball soft appearance. Black with golden swirls and lines stitched across the top and bottom. The number of pillows is silly. All sizes too. Large ones at the very back and then several smaller ones until the ones at the very front are for mere decoration only.

Despite the more rustic look of the walls in the dark oak and stone base, the bed and furniture is slightly more modern in design. The headrest is cream white, ridged, and padded, as is the foot of the bed, but flatter than the headrest.

Two bedside tables hold various books on one and a lamp on the other. Behind the bed is a wall with a great big tree carved, flowing the length from top to bottom.

You swear you’ve seen that somewhere before.

The entirety of the wall opposite the doors to the room is made up of windows. Each window has been thrown open and the floor to ceiling curtains flow in the cool breeze.

They avoid the small breakfast table, laden with an untouched plate of the chicken you’d had for supper. On the other side is a large heavy looking desk. It’s sturdy. Big like Thor with papers and scrolls and folders. A laptop sits shut at the center and in the chair turned to face the left side of the room sits Thor with his shoulders hunched, elbows on his knees, hands supporting his face as he keeps it covered.

His body tells you everything you need to know about how he’s feeling and though you hate it, after so much worrying about what you’d find in here, you’re grateful to finally set eyes on him.

“It’s not Estrid.” You say gently, afraid to speak any louder and disturb him more than he already is.

His head whips towards you, faster than you expected.

Your hands go numb with nervous energy as he stares at you, his electric blue eyes scanning you very slowly from head to toe, then back up again. He takes his hand as he does so, covering his mouth with it, stroking his beard slowly as if fixing it.

Taking the opportunity, you note the plain jeans he’s wearing, the white t-shirt that stretches across his wide chest and strains to keep him covered. The hem of his sleeves struggle to keep his biceps contained. His golden hair is windswept, short as it is, it sticks in all directions.

He looks so good, so perfect, except for that sadness on his face.

You can’t bear to ask him anything about her.

“Gorm is lovely.” You tell him, forcing a smile and a quick nod.

He meets your eyes with his own, dropping the hand he’d used to shield his mouth and allows both his hands to dangle between his knees.

“She’s the best in the city.” Thor nods, devouring your dress again.

He suddenly rises and you teeter backwards with the sudden rise.

He steps towards you, his feet falling heavy on the floor.

You really like the way he struts towards you. There’s a slight sway to his hips.

Lips feeling dry and cracked, you freeze as he moves past you at the last moment.

The sound of him sitting on his bed pulls you around to look at him and he sighs, reaching his right arm up towards you.

With a swallow, you move towards him. The luscious short train of your skirt follows in your wake, flowing like water.

When you’re within reach, his places his hand on your waist, pulling you closer until you’re standing before him. He takes his other hand and places that on your waist too, making your breath shallow.

He looks up to meet your gaze.

Hands balled into fists; you wait. You’re not sure what he needs. What you need from this moment. You’re only sure that you’re glad you don’t seem to have dreamed up last night.

“You look beautiful.” He says, voice penetrating into your chest to restart your heart at double the speed.

“It’s a little simple.” You observe, remembering the other much frillier options.

“It suits you.” He lets his hand trace down along the side of your hip, stealing your breath before sliding his hand back up to your waist.

He gives you a little shake and you reach out to place your hands on his shoulders to keep from losing your already fragile balance.

“Brunnhilde told me that you were very anxious today.” He sounds worried, his brow puckered, eyes crinkled at the corners from concern.

You shrug for him, intending to play off the exact amount of worrying you’d done today because you don’t want him to know how invested you already are.

“I ended it with Jane.”

“You don’t have to-” You begin, but Thor makes a dismissive noise in his throat and cuts you off.

“I owe you an explanation.” He nods. “When I gave you that ring on your finger, I became your intended. Officially ending things with Jane was only out of respect for who we were when we were together.”

“Thor you really don’t have to tell me about your breakup with Jane. It’s private. It’s before me. Whatever happened between the two of you today is now in the past.” You sigh, trying not to think about what kisses might have been shared.

Maybe more?

You make a mental note to never hold it against him if he ever tells you that he slept with her today.

He was hers long before you agreed to marry him.

“I want to be honest with you.” He sighs. “I want us to be open with each other. I want us to talk about anything that may be troubling us.”

“We will.” You nod, giving his shoulders a small squeeze. “I promise.”

“Then tell me what you were worried about today.”

You already regret your promise.

“I thought about what you must be feeling. Wondered if you might change your mind.” Answering honestly is actually cathartic. Though you usually do it on reflex, choosing to do it feels nice.

Thor only watches you, waiting for you to get it all out, his large hands caressing the sides of your waist and making you tingle.

“Keep going.” He urges you gently.

“I’m embarrassed.” You admit, and Thor’s face relaxes a moment, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips.

He doesn’t prompt you again, just waits.

There’s a peace in this silence of his. An acceptance. A sense of time to just be.

“I was afraid that I’d imagined last night. I don’t remember falling asleep. I just woke up and it was this morning. And last night was so…” You stop, realizing that as much as you’ve thought about last night today, for Thor if there are any kisses that he wants to hold onto today, they’re probably from Jane.

This fact suddenly hardens your heart and resolve. You reach to grab his wrists to pull his hands off of you, but he doesn’t budge. You couldn’t move him if you pushed as hard as you can.

“It doesn’t matter.” You brush it off. “You probably want to just be alone and I was told that you need to approve the dress? So, tell me what you think, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Have I upset you?” He asks, face shifted back into that slight pout he’d been wearing before.

“N-No.” You shake your head.

“Then why do you want to leave so quickly?” He demands, voice rising in pitch at the end.

“I just…after today, I just thought that maybe you’d want some space?”

“Then you aren’t angry with me?” He checks.

“No.”

He leans forward and presses his head against your stomach, eyes shutting as his arms wrap themselves around you and pull you closer.

You don’t quite know what to do with your hands, so you stand there, holding them over his shoulders, fighting the desire to hold him back.

“I’m so tired.” He admits to you, and it settles in your heart.

You drop your arms, resting them against him before you embrace him, hands splayed along his wide back.

He exhales, relaxing against you. “Thank you.”

“For what, Thor?” You whisper, too overcome with all this hugging to speak any louder.

“For hugging me.”

Your heart breaks for him, and you hold him tighter.

“May I be honest with you about something?”

“Yes.” Here it is, the truth about Jane and him today.

“These moments with you have been the most enjoyable and special moments I’ve spent with anyone in a long time.”

Does it really matter if he slept with Jane today? Kissed her? Hugged her?

Was he this sweet with her too?

“I love you in this dress.”

You sigh, the first three words of that declaration sending your heart into a frenzy.

“You do?”

“I do.”

You smile, liking that very much.

Thor’s blue eye shifts with electricity, literally, and he pulls you down onto his lap with a demanding grip on your waist.

Your arm is still around his shoulder, the other moving down to rest over his hand which he brings around to rest on your lower belly.

“Are you happy?” He wonders, catching your fingers within his.

“Relatively.” You nod. “I’m still worried.”

Honestly, right?

“Why?” He laments, caressing your waist.

“I’m liking you more and more too quickly.” You sigh. “I don’t want to disappoint you or the people. I want to do well. Both in our marriage and with the kingdom.”

Thor caresses your side, then slides his hand down further, large hand sliding along the fabric of your dress down over your thigh.

There’s a subtle tickle between your legs. It startles you and you have to physically force yourself to relax.

“You’re already better than anyone else I might have chosen.” Thor whispers, leaning in closer until his lips are pressed to your ear.

You remind yourself that you made him promise not to do anything he doesn’t want to do. No forcing himself to be affectionate if he doesn’t feel it.

“Thor…” You gasp, just a flurry of the air left in your lungs.

“I’ve been thinking…” He admits. “Since I left you last night, about how we might be able to prepare for our wedding night.”

How do you breathe again? Where does the air go?

“Do you trust me, cherub?”

That pet name hits you just as fiercely as it did the first time and all you can do is nod.

Thor suddenly throws you back over his arm onto the bed. Landing with your head on the pillow, you gasp, chest rising and falling dramatically as you struggle to catch your breath again.

He leans down and hovers over you, waiting as you do, staring into your eyes.

“I’ll make certain you know this is not a dream.” He promises, then leans down to press his lips against yours.

You sigh, grateful for his taste as if it were a drug, removing an ache you’ve been feeling all day. Your arms come up on their own, trapping his torso down on yours as his hands trace your sides slowly.

This time you’re the one seeking more, pressing the tip of your tongue against his lips until he opens them and kisses you back.

He inhales your kiss, breathing in until you hear the vibration of a moan rip through him into you and you have never felt your body burn this way before.

You want him to make more sounds like that. Over and over if possible.

He pulls away too quickly, making you lift your head to follow him, but you fall back onto the bed, gasping for breath.

“Do you really trust me?” Thor checks again, his hands moving down along your sides until they stop at your hips, hands flexing and squeezing.

You’re shifting on his sheets, body squirming from energy you don’t recognize.

You know that he probably needs to be close to someone like this after today. After whatever he lost with Jane, even if he won’t let you see just how much it really hurt him, he probably needs this closeness.

“Yes.” You breathe.

With one hand he reaches down, staring into your eyes as he does. He finds the bottom hem of your dress and flips his hand underneath, then takes hold of your ankle.

He turns to face your feet, sliding down to the end of the bed then removes the flats you’d switched into, along with the thick socks you’d found to fight the cold.

It’s so chilly in here you shiver.

“You won’t be cold for long, cherub.” He promises.

After dropping your shoes on the floor, he rises then crawls onto the bed to where your feet are, grabbing hold of your ankles to pull your legs open a little.

“Easy.” He tells you gently. “You’ll still be a maid on our wedding night. This will be just a taste.”

He flips your skirt over his head, disappearing from view.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, curious and just as nervous until you feel the pressure of something wet slide up along your slit and you throw your head back, an uncontrollable moan ripping through your lips.

You hadn’t realized the taste would be for him.

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