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oepionie · 1 year

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—"MY DUMBASS SOPPING WET CAT" leona kingscholar

🎸masterlist | 💬ao3 link

synopsis: "are you insane?! look at you! you're soaking wet!" "i don't care. i had to come see you." in the middle of a stormy night, you hear knocking at your door and find leona standing outside your dorm in the pouring rain. it seems that he has a question for you.

⊹ [ cw ] — passing mention of freezing◞

⊹ [ tags ] — FLUFF.GN! READER | soft leona agenda, mutual pining, kissin◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 800+◞

Thunder rattles the ground as a bright white flare lights up the dreary dark halls of Ramshackle. The rain pattered against the roof while you and Grim huddled in a blanket. Both of you were watching a soap opera on TV, waiting for the storm to pass.

Grim had long since dozed off to dreamland, snoring quietly, but you stayed up, far too engrossed in the family drama on TV.

As you grabbed the remote to play the next episode, the last thing you expected was to hear a knock on the door.

Now, cats were notorious for hating water, you were pretty sure of that. Those furry little balls of fluff loathed being hit by even a single drop of rain.

So, why in the Twisted Wonderland was Leona Kingscholar standing outside your dorm in the middle of a pouring storm?

Leona's hands were buried in the jacket he somehow had managed to grab in his haste. He kept his attention fixed to his feet as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Bout time you opened the door, herbivore."

"Are you insane?! Look at you! You're soaking wet!" Dumbfounded, you pulled Leona into your dorm and ran to fetch him a towel. The lion followed your retreating form with a paralyzed gaze, uncharacteristically silent.

Was running through the rain really worth it just to see you? He debated just making a run for it. The entire thing had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, anyway. However, before he could do anything, you returned and tossed a fluffy towel over his head. Leona took it into his hands, draping it over his shoulders.

"C'mon. You're making my doormat soggy." You grumbled, nose scrunching up as you pulled the lion into your dorm.

Leona slams the door shut behind him. He pulls you back by the collar of your shirt, dragging you to stagger back until your back was pressed up against the wall. He rests one hand beside your head and uses the other to lift your chin up towards him.

"What are we?" Leona mutters whilst staring at you, taking his merry time to take in every little feature on your face. His expression was contemplative, apprehension swimming in his eyes.

"I dont know-Rivals?" You snort, laying a head on his shoulder. Leona looks down at you with an annoyed expression. Chuckling, you peer up at him through your lashes. "What do you want us to be?"

He stays silent and stares at your lips, glancing back up at you for permission. You nod and he wraps a muscular arm around your waist. Your hands grip the fabric of his shirt, tugging on it slightly as you lean up to reach him. Leona cranes his neck and meets you halfway. He kisses you sensually, moving his hand down to rest around your neck and holding your hand with the other. You pull back and Leona chases after your lips. Giggling, you press the back of your hand against his mouth.

"Woah there, tiger. You're still cold and drenched. Let's go to the living room."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"That really all you have? Crowley didn't have anythin' better to give you?" Plopping down on the couch, Leona scoffed as he watched you drag a bulky heater over. Sighing, you pat the rusty metal. "Deadbeat crow-dad, remember?"

While you fumbled with the old switches, he took a mental note to gift you a new one soon. Old-fashioned tech like that isn't reliable enough to keep you warm during the winter - you could end up freezing to death. It was a situation he wanted to avoid at all costs, especially now that you've wormed your way into his heart.

Finally, after some tinkering, the heater buzzed to life. You clapped your hands, the giddy grin on your face making Leona's lips curve into a small smile. Cute.

"Anyways. Look at you. How much of a dumbass do you have to be to run through a storm like that?" You huffed, hands on your hips as you looked down at him.

The creaky worn down couch was already starting to darken and soak up the rainwater on his clothes. Leona fumbled with his hands, gaze moving to his feet.

"I don't care. I just-" He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "I had to come see you."

"Why's that?" You questioned, raising an eyebrow at him. Leona blinked. Even he wasn't sure.

He hadn't expected to feel as strongly about you as he did. These were the kinds of things he thought a person like him was too rough around the edges for. It drove him wild and caused him to daydream about mushy lovey-dovey things he'd never considered before. Despite that, he wasn't ready to fully admit it yet, and somehow, he thinks you knew.

"You always have to ask dumb questions. I just fucking wanted to." Leona scoffed, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your stomach. His eyes fluttered shut as you stroked your deft fingers over his damp hair, undoing the knots and tangles with care. Snorting at the lion, you poked his cheek and jeered at him.

"Dumbass."

"Your dumbass, at least."

Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

Taglist: @keedas @spadecentral @crypticbibliophile @pastellepastary @cassidycampfire @cocomollo @poisoniousheart @anonima-2 @kawaiipotatoghost ↳ want to be added?

#twstnexus #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfic #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #twst leona

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fillinforlater · 4 months

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Blonde: Chapter III

Female Reader x Kim Gaeul

Length: 2500 words

Tags: angst/fluff, another bad day, losing your dignity, illness, someone who cares, there is a fever dream, Gaeul's relationship, struggling with your identity, we got a twist at the end

Inspiration: "Why Am I Like This?" by Orla Gartland

(A/N: Finally, another chapter to this slowly developing plot. I jope you enjoy it. @firagaarmor for obvious reasons)

"Didn't you say 108,000?"

"No, sir, it's 180,500 won."

"Oh, I see."

The old, fragile fingers of this confused, bald man creep back into his purse, trying to find another bill in what is probably a maze of money and plastic cards for him. You wouldn’t mind it one bit, you get paid either way and on usual nights, traffic is so little that barely anyone else gets inconvenienced. However, tonight is rather unusual. Apparently everyone forgot something and is now in a haste to buy said something. There is a long line of impatient stressed moms, annoyed teenagers and everything in between or beyond showing or voicing their disapproval.

It’s not you, you’re not the cause for their stress and discomfort, yet the customer’s toxicity still flies to you like you’re some kind of magnet. It all comes back to stab you, with passive-aggressive remarks or the glances up and down your small frame. Doesn’t really help that you only had cold ramen noodles, sweets and a little bit of bread in the past five days and that the ice cold showers make your nose itch with an impending cold. God, you must look pathetically miserable, even for your standards.

After the man finally gets his cash together, the checkouts are fast, heartless, and your heart aches for her to be at the end of the line. Gaeul—with her bright hair and even brighter smile to greet you when she is out buying drinks again—she could really save this evening. You yearn for her encouragement and presence more than for the next hot meal. Maybe even more than for the next two hot meals.

But there is no blonde angel to save you tonight. With the last customer buying their groceries, the lights die one by one, leaving you in a mostly empty store, alone with thousands and thousands of tasty and not-so-tasty products you’d love to put into a pan and fry. The thuds of your sneakers on the floor almost drown out the grumble in your stomach or the sniffling of your nose as you walk into yet another cold night with nothing to look forward to.

I fucking hate this shit.

You want to vomit, throw yourself off your bed, tear every single strand of your dark hair out as you dial your mother's number again. You hope it’s over quickly, but one can never know with her, especially if she still stubbornly refuses to help you. Take deep breaths, try to keep your head straight though thinking has become more and more exhaustive with every calorie you’re missing.

“What is it?” your mother groans, though you find her tone to be a lot more amused than last time. Someone is cheering and laughing in the background, drowning out even the loud TV.

“The bills, mom. I still have no electricity, no hot water, no heater.”

“Oh right.”

A response colder than your room. You try to straighten your back to speak to her loud and clear, with at least some authority, but you feel yourself crumble when the clanking of bottles loudly booms through the speaker.

“Did… did your boss finally pay you?” you carefully ask, earning an immediate response.

“Yes, he did.”

“Then why didn’t you pay the bills?”

Silence, except for the crime drama running in the back, finding all the suspects and then the killer, as they always do. This case right here is totally clear, no one needs to investigate for more than five minutes to find out that she is at fault, yet it feels like you're on trial, awaiting your parole, which for some reason is still in the balance.

“You know, sweetheart,” your mother cheekily responds, her saliva loudly flopping around in her mouth, mixed with the disgusting flavor of cigarettes and beer. “I really worked hard for that money. It’s my money. In the end I can decide what happens with it.”

Oh God, don’t do that, please for the love of—and don’t call me sweetheart.

“You can’t be serious,” you barely chirp out, your heart throbbing, crumbling like your entire body as you can see your entire foundation, the fragile remains of your fake stability finally falter. You can never cover all of your expenses with this one job and you can’t quit school now, not after getting so close to finally finishing it. You need her money and she seems to finally use it against you.

“It’s just the truth,” she responds nonchalantly, her voice a lot lighter and higher in pitch than usual. You hear someone cackle in the background.

“Sweetheart.

Don’t call me that.

“How about you—

Don’t do this.

“—start begging for my money. C’mon! Get on your knees and beg for it! I’m tired of funding your lazy, incompetent lifestyle. You should be so grateful for my throwing money at you all these years.

“I didn’t hear you! Get your lazy ass out of your bed now, and on your damn knees.

“Beg for it.”

Laughter from behind her. It's not the TV.

A hot shower, warm noodles, a cozy bed—they never felt so wrong, so disgusting. Even as your life objectively improves, it feels horrible, like you had to sell yourself and your soul for it to happen.

Your knees are still drawn to the floor. You might sit in a chair, listen to teachers all day or sit at the checkout, pulling items over the scanner, your knees still feel like they should get on the floor and beg.

Please let me pass.

Please give me more money.

Please leave me alone.

Please ignore my embarrassing existence.

"Hey."

"Uhhh, good evening, ma'a—Gaeul?"

Gaeul's dainty fingers catch your shoulders as you slump forward, against the checkout counter and almost fold over. Your body, devoid of energy, loses all tension.

“Hey, hey,” Gaeul calls out to you, and like the caring mother you never had, the warm palm of her hand cups your forehead. “Oh lord, you’re so hot! You’re definitely sick, what are you doing here?”

“I-I have to work,” you respond, a wave of something hot and heavy pressing down on your brain. This lava burns itself into you and makes every thought process excruciatingly hard. You haven’t even noticed it until now. “I’m not sick, every-thing is fine.”

Your smile is weak, dozy and fake, it cannot fool Gaeul a bit. Her beautiful face falls into deep wrinkles of worry as you can barely lift yourself out of her supporting arms. There is an awkward pause between the two of you, only interrupted by another customer clearing their throat. You try to get back to scanning, but one of Gaeul’s cans slips through your fingers a couple of times.

“I don’t think you should do this,” Gaeul says quietly, softly. “You don’t need to prove your toughness, it’s okay to be sick for a few days. I think your boss will understand.”

“Really, Gaeul, I’m okay.” The final can, straight into the blonde’s bag. Through your blurry eyes you can barely make out the color of her jacket, or sweater, or whatever it is—either way, it definitely suits her. “Thanks for worrying though.”

Why did I push her away like this? Why didn’t I listen to her? Why am I always like this?

Everything is hot and everything is cold. You need another jacket or the cold will get worse, but it simultaneously feels like you could die from overheating if you don’t start throwing away layer after layer of clothes. The way your body feels is close to how the inner mechanisms in your brain work in this fever haze. There is nothing, no thought, no conclusion, nothing that matters—yet everything is suddenly relevant.

Objects and details you’ve never actively released before come into focus of your decreasing sight, that one tile in the corner, just as dirty and unspecial as the rest, the second package of gum, purple and pink, the spooky hum when the door opens that never appears when it closes. So you stumble out of the store, tripping over your feet until the fever finally strikes you down.

The concrete, its gray color, is darker the colder it gets. It’s also harder, torturous to lay upon, scorching hot skin on freezing tarmac. Suddenly, brand new sneakers, black and white, small feet, about as small as your own, though they could be—

“Oh my God!”

—a bit bigger, judging by the length of the stockings covered legs that—

“Here, I’ll help you”

—disappear in a plaid skirt, above a combo of thick winter jacket and—

“I knew this was bad. Taxi!”

—a girl, whose hair is both silver and golden, a blonde close to whiteness, nonetheless it looks like a crown adorning and framing her perfectly formed features.

Gaeul.

You’re lost in a dream. A school full of students, their ages varying drastically and you do not recognize a single face. The teachers seem a lot more familiar, though they float through the room carelessly, gravity not applying to them. In fact, gravity only applies to you, as the rest of the students fly around the room with their chairs and desks.

A frame of an angel, her hands brushing your cheek, scorching hot, so she puts a wet towel on your face. That’s so nice of her, you must be sick. Sick or not, you cannot miss the day you go to the zoo with the floating class.

The zoo is filled with people, nothing but people. People that look at odd people. Those that have to stand on one leg, those that can’t talk properly, those who like weird things. You can hear your whole class laugh hysterically at all of them, so weird, so wrong, nothing better than to laugh at sickos and be glad that you’re not one of them.

“Uhm, hi.” A voice in the far background, damp, behind a shut door. “Care to explain why you have another girl in your bed?”

You feel like you have to explain yourself, but words are nothing more than concepts in your head, also the zoo is calling, you have to watch the lively corpses float through the water tanks. Luckily, someone speaks for you. The angel.

“She’s a friend and she is sick. That’s all there is to it, Yujin.”

"Oh, really?" The other voice is skeptical, eyebrows raised and she looks for a clever response. “I guess she got sick while laying in your bed? Gaeul, don’t lie to me, okay? Just be straightforward with me.”

“I—” the angel stutters and falls silent. You however found a new enclosure in this zoo which stretches in all directions. This one is rather empty and the enclosure is also no enclosure, just a mirror with a writing above it: ‘Sicko girls that like other girls’.

The reflection is you, of course, in all your—

“What am I going to do with you, hm?” The other voice, now a tall woman of incredible beauty, twirls a couple of golden strands of the angel and tugs them behind her ear with a weak—dishonest, you feel—smile. “The long hair suited you better. I really liked that.”

“I know, Yujin.”

The reflection is you, in all your fault and imperfection, far from perfection and any heavenly being. You are no angel, just a sicko girl that likes girls—and the whole class is laughing.

You open your eyes, but the aching, hot pain in your temple and a heavy, wet towel on top of it make actually seeing, realizing anything a pain in the ass. Just the outline of a small face looking down on you, very familiar, very pretty—oh, what a relief to have Gaeul be the first thing you see.

“Wh-where am I?” you ask past dry lips.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Gaeul turns around and quickly reaches for a bottle of water. “Here, drink this, your body needs a lot of water now. You’re in my—my friend's apartment.”

“Damn, then it must have been real fucking bad—”

You cover your mouth, realizing your loud curse in a foreign room, foreign bed, where are your manners, they might have foreign customs. Gaeul’s eyes fall shut when she begins to lightly chuckle.

“Don’t worry, she’s not here right now,” Gaeul says. “You’re all good. B-but you can’t stay here forever. Just rest up and—you have somewhere to stay, right?”

You carefully remove the towel from your face, catching all the drops running down your forehead as you think about home, your home, finally warm because you threw away your dignity. You’d love to not go there, tear up the contract for rent and run away to something new—into independence.

“Yeah, yup, I—I have a place, don’t worry. Sorry for all the trouble, fuck, I don’t even remember what—I did it again.”

Now Gaeul is holding her stomach, laughing, hitting the blanket that covers your legs and you join her. Though you might sit upright, you feel like falling over, the dizziness, Gaeul’s laugh, they make you feel like you’re still in that dream with the angel. The angel, so ethereal, but made fragile by this voice. A woman.

Suddenly, yours and Gaeul’s face are almost touching, her arms are on your shoulders, yours on her side, her petite frame is in your palm. The laughs have faded, smiles remain but you feel your heart racing. The smile fades and you’re tense. Gaeul is right there and she is so, so pretty.

“You sure you’re alright?” Gaeul asks as she sees your blush. You blush even more and avert your eyes.

“Y-yeah, thank you. You helped a lot. But—

“—are you okay too, Gaeul?”

That’s a smile full of uncertainty, a hint of anger, a glow of hurt. Gaeul’s eyes sparkle and you’d love to blow some life into them. Even better, all the love you have for her, you want to pour it into her and give her power. But no, you have no idea nor any plan to do such a thing. So it’s Gaeul who helps you out of the bed and hands you one of her sweatshirts that isn’t drenched in sweat.

“You are the one with a fever, I’m as healthy as ever!” Gaeul is so bright and her smile shines like a star. In a different universe, she is already a celebrity with a perfect red carpet smile. Fake.

“I didn’t mean that.” In a surge of confidence and worry, you reach for Gaeul’s hand and everything's in slow motion. “I-I’m scared that you’re not happy, that something isn’t right, that—Gaeul, I heard you talk to your friend and she seemed—”

“Look, I—she isn’t my friend.”

Gaeul looks at you.

“She is my girlfriend.”

Gaeul still looks at you. Now it’s your turn to fake a smile and get it over with.

...

(A/N2: Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for more chapters, though it will take time until the next release)

#kpop fluff #gaeul fluff #ive fluff #female idol fluff #female reader #female reader fluff #kpop angst #gaeul angst #ive angst

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thefreakandthehair · 6 months

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@eddiemonth prompt, oct 24th: Drama | His Kiss the Riot - Anaïs Mitchell | Magnetic a/n: steddie, pining, mutual crushes, forced proximity, the universal theater kid horror of having to hug your crush on stage [click here for the AMAZING corresponding artwork by @artbean!] read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

Community theater isn’t a far leap for Eddie Munson.

With high school finally far behind him, he’s free to fill his time how he pleases. There aren’t many things about those four cinder block walls that he’d say he misses, but the drama of Hellfire Club makes the short list. So no, it’s not a far leap for Eddie Munson to join the local Hawkins Community Theater.

It is, however, a moon-landing sized leap to find Steve Harrington in the small auditorium when he shows up for Grease tryouts. Sure, Grease is a little kitsch, maybe a bit too on the nose for his first local community production, but that’s all forgotten when he ends up scoring the role of Kenickie and has to rehearse opposite of Steve’s Zuko.

Because of course Steve gets cast as Danny Zuko.

The monsters he’d dreamed up for Hellfire Club were intimidating, but nothing is more horrifying than having to hug the guy who’d been the leading man in most of his wet dreams throughout– and admittedly, even after– high school.

Day after day, take after take, Eddie as Kenickie asks Steve as Zuko to be his second at Thunder Road, they hug, and then pull away to fix their hair and strut off screen for the set change. Eddie can’t speak for Steve, but the flush to his cheeks and awkward hair combing is not acting.

Rehearsal has absolutely nothing on opening night, that first time Eddie finds himself shoved into a too-tight space behind the curtain with Steve. In their haste to get out of the way, Eddie stumbles and catches himself against a wall, turning to find Steve nose-to-nose, braced on one forearm against the same wall to the left of Eddie’s head.

Eddie swallows, harsh and thick, and releases a shaky exhale. “You good, man?”

Steve grins and nods. “Little tight back here, huh?”

“Terrible conditions for the leading man, I have to say.” Eddie whispers.

“Eh,” Steve starts. “I don’t think they’re that bad.”

Eddie’s sure that he’s hallucinated the way Steve’s eyes flicker down to his lips and back up. Wayne always says that Eddie has a knack for seeing what he wants to see, after all.

“That’s your cue,” Steve moves and jerks his head to the stage. “See you back out there, Kenickie.” The motherfucker winks and Eddie’s head spins, his lines jumbled and his steps just a bit off.

Hawkins Community Theater’s production of Grease is a two week commitment, six shows in total, and each one gets better and better. Eddie grows more and more confident with his performance during Greased Lightning, landing his marks with ease and actively avoiding the decidedly inappropriate thoughts about Steve kneeling in front of him on the hood of the car. His chemistry with Rizzo, played by none other than Nancy Wheeler, turns into an honest to God friendship that takes them both by surprise. Hell, he’s even gotten dinner with the cast a few times.

It’s all going smoothly, except that Eddie’s sure he’s going to die before the end of this run. Night after night, Eddie finds himself shoved up against Steve Harrington who must have some sort of bet running to see if he can get Eddie to fold. If so, he’s definitely winning.

In the show’s final weekend, he ends up crammed between a wall and Steve behind the curtain and really, he’s just a man. How much of this can he be expected to take without his head exploding? Or his–

“Nice job out there, Munson. Had me convinced you were actually like, flustered or whatever.” Steve whispers, his lips too close to Eddie’s skin.

He might have imagined it, but he’s fairly certain they actually grazed the reddening tip of his ear. “Oh, are we dropping out of character now? I thought that was strictly forbidden, Zuko.”

Steve shakes his head and leans in closer, intentionally. It has to be intentional this time, right? “It’s our final show, I think we can just be Harrington and Munson now. Or, maybe just Steve and Eddie?”

Steve and Eddie, Steve and Eddie, SteveandEddie.

Eddie's head buzzes, swimming in the combinations of their names. They sound good together, and he can’t be misreading this, not when Steve leans closer still, his eyes glowing with the stage light creeping behind the curtain. Their lips nearly touch when Steve speaks again, close enough for Eddie to feel

“That’s your cue. I’m gonna miss being stuck back here with you, so let me know after the show.”

Eddie nearly chokes and purses his lips. “Are you doing this on purpose to throw me off, Harrington?”

“Just can’t stay away. Munson.” Steve winks again and leans back, making space for Eddie to sneak around him to take his place for the audience.

Eddie warms beneath the bright lights of the stage, but they have nothing on the scintillating radiance of Steve’s eyes on him backstage.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie month #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #myblurbs #eddie month prompts

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cosmonabo · 2 months

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(Un)Broken

Synopis: In which Chifuyu reunites with the one he shattered countless school years ago, seeking redemption, but perhaps it's just too late to apologize." Pairing: Chifuyu Matsuno + Fem!Reader. Genders: Angst, Drama and Tragedy, Farce. Content Warnings: mentions of tryte of suicides, bullying and autodepressed.

Prologue: Broken Bones

"Broken"; Adjective, masculine Definitions: Made into pieces; fragmented, fractured. Examples: Me and you.

'Ah, yes... You remember? You put gum in my hair in sixth grade. After everyone started laughing at me, you thought you were the sovereign of the class; did you find it funny? Was it funny to see me running desperately to the bathroom to hide from the shrill laughter?

Freak.

Yes... Then I became your little pet, right? Because of you, my shoes are fraying. You threw them into the school pool and then hurled them from the rooftop. And why? Because I filled your notebooks with glue. And then you had to redo the homework all over again.

Now it wasn't so funny, was it?'

The few off-beat seconds seemed to last hours in Chifuyu's mind, who could do nothing as the girl passed a few meters ahead. The cold weather seemed to distort her image, who constantly let out sighs in the cold winter air. Even after three years, he could still recognize her. However, after the wearying misfortunes of the past, her striking and bright eyes seemed to have lost their shine over the years. As if her world had become grayer, darker.

He imagined she was living in a "faded coloring." Where the walls of her mind had gone from vivid and cheerful colors to cold and icy tones. The walls of her memories were peeled and trampled like the old paint that falls from the walls and crumbles, commonly without any value.

And amidst all those students, who quickly passed through the crowd in haste, Matsuno did not take another step. [Name] Tsubaki seemed so close, yet at the same time, so distant and alone. He wanted to go up to her and say some words of regret, which had been stuck in the boy's throat for a long time. But he couldn't. Why couldn't he? It was so simple.

As he wandered in his bitter thoughts, some intuition from the randomness of the mind made her turn her head to face the one who was devouring her with his eyes. That's when he saw. On the side of her cheek, there were some band-aids, and her right arm - hidden inside the coat thrown over her shoulders - was covered by a white cast. Broken. Who did that? And why did she seem not to care?

Indifferently, she glanced at him sideways, the blond wondered how many curses she had cast on him in that brief moment of eye contact. And whether she cast any curse or not, she wasn’t wrong, she had every right to hate him to the depths of her being.

And as quickly as she looked, she looked away. For some reason, he got the impression that as she walked, her steps only increased in speed and the rhythm of her light strides through the crowd. Soon, disappearing among the masses of uniforms.

Leaving him desolate with his thoughts, those that he had buried a long time ago in the back of his mind. In that dark and lonely corner, where the image of the girl drenched in dirty water with disinfectant was still vividly memorable, unfortunately memorable.

"Huh? " the thoughtful blond murmured, lifting his gaze to face Takemichi who was standing in front of him.

As he leaned his own weight on the stairs leading to the temple. It hardly mattered to him whether he was dirtying the Toman uniform or not.

"What the hell happened to you? You look all depressed " Hanagaki ventured to ask, needing to clear his doubt or he would lose sleep over it tonight.

And he didn't wish to make a call to Chifuyu in the middle of the night.

"Oh, that... " he murmured, glancing away, trying to dodge the question "nothing happened. Just remembered some embarrassing stuff ".

Takemichi made a point of sitting next to Chifuyu, soon giving the downcast boy a sympathetic smile.

"You can talk ".

Surprised, Matsuno thought over the offer. Soon, he agreed. After all, he had nothing to lose.

"Well... There's someone..." he searched for words to soften the subject, but everything seemed too confusing.

"Ah, I see. You've got a crush on someone!"

"No! Not at all! " he denied, stammering. But somehow Takemichi's deduction helped to lessen his nervousness "it's just that... Let's say you have the opportunity to apologize to the person you bullied, what would you say?"

"That was very specific " he commented, a bit shocked by the statement "and well... I don't know. I've never bullied anyone, i think".

"I kind of expected that... " he admitted, sighing in frustration, but now feeling less burdened.

It was like diving into a sea of regrets and for the first time feeling your lungs being refilled with fresh air. It was liberating.

"Well, continuing... " he cleared his throat, bringing the attention back to himself "this person came back to school, after three years. We had never seen each other again, nor had I had the opportunity to apologize. And also, I don't know how to do it."

Constantly, Takemichi watched the boy with blond locks tighten his fingers repeatedly; restless. Drawing in air forcefully, trying to sound uninterrupted and unshakable, when in fact he was just gathering strength to finish the story. But he was afraid. Afraid of judgment and what Takemichi would say when he finished pouring his heart out.

Then, Takemichi delivered a slap on the back of his friend's neck. The one who let out a grunt of pain, since he was caught off guard at such a vulnerable moment. Dragging his hand to his neck.

"What the fuck, what was that!? "

"Don't worry " Takemichi said, standing back up, extending his hand in a comforting gesture "if you're as sorry as you seem, then that person will surely understand."

"Takemichi... " he murmured in surprise, massaging the affected area.

"You're human. Everyone's an asshole sometimes " he considered.

"When did you become like this? "

"I don't know. Saw it in a comic."

Behind the wall, both blonds watched her water the school garden's flowers, while the watering can poured water on the dry flowers, [Name] watched the birds flapping their wings flying far away. Startled by the rustling of the tree leaves.

Chifuyu was not surprised. The girl had always had an affection for botany. And it reminded him of when he buried her cardigan in the soil of the small garden at the back of school.

Which didn't help much with what little determination he had left inside.

He shook his head, pushing away the thoughts. He didn't expect to see her working with a broken arm, although that effort wasn't enough to tire her or affect her recovery.

"Is it her? " Takemichi dispelled the pessimistic thoughts from the guy with just the tone of voice with which he spoke those words.

Matsuno looked in the direction of his crouched friend, hidden behind the wall, who couldn't take his eyes off the girl. She, who cared little about the environment around her, not even realizing the presence of the two.

"Yeah... " he answered in the same low voice.

"And what are you waiting for? Go there! " he encouraged, seeing a reluctant grimace forming on the other's face.

He didn't feel like giving in at the crucial moment of the situation. But he was apprehensive. His eyes glowed with determination, but this confident and resolute look hid fear. A suppressed feeling of being ignored or having his apologies denied – rightfully so, of course.

He peeled his legs off the ground and began to walk towards the girl, who was now crouched trimming the flowers and tossing the small branches into the basket. Slowly, he approached with his hands in his pockets, as if he were getting close to a skittish cat.

And when [Name] noticed the presence of the blond, she rolled her eyes, looking at him standing at the entrance of the garden. She couldn't avoid the surprise in her gaze, but shortly after, she stood up and put away the gardening tools.

Chifuyu felt a lump forming in his throat.

As he was about to start the dialogue, he was interrupted by [Name]'s velvety voice.

"Do you want something? "

He hadn't heard her voice in a long time, so much so that he couldn't even remember the tone and how her words used to be light and kind.

"Ah, yes... No! i mean no! " he declined, searching for words "are you about to leave?"

"Yes, I have a violin test today " she lied, holding the backpack between her free arm and turning to leave. She didn't plan to prolong the conversation more than necessary.

But before the young woman could take a final step towards the ring of plants - a.k.a. the entrance to the garden - she felt a hand on her shoulder, not with brutality, but rather a touch filled with patience and gentleness. However, it wasn't enough to prevent the shock. [Name] felt so much fear that she didn't even bother hiding the trembling of her hands.

Anxious. The feeling of uncertainty.

"Please, wait " he pleaded, softly "I'm sorry."

If she were in a favorable position, she would certainly raise an eyebrow. Unfortunately, as she was not in a position to do so, she simply waited for him to continue.

"Just know that I regret it. A lot! I wouldn't even be able to see you every day without saying this first."

She stayed silent, thinking about what she had just heard. The usual calmness that surrounded [Name]'s face didn't vanish for a second.

"And is this just for you to feel good about yourself? " she dared to poke where it hurt.

Although she was terrified, it was the only opportunity to be honest and let go of the docile demeanor she had adopted for Matsuno over the years.

"Don't feel bad, it's been a long time " she said, brushing her fingers on the basket handle, releasing the anxiety "it's not like you or I care. I don't want to be your friend or anything, just... leave me alone. " she added, swallowing hard, while he patiently waited for her to finish speaking "So... Please! Don't look for me anymore!"

She mumbled the last words. Summoning courage from where she didn't have it, she quickly moved away from the boy.

And as soon as she finished speaking, she dropped the basket and ran away in a hurry, without any direction. She just wanted to distance herself from Chifuyu as much as possible.

He failed.

#chifuyu matsuno #chifuyu x reader #tokyo revengers chifuyu #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers #toman x reader #angst #chifuyu x you #chifuyu x y/n #chifuyu matsuno x reader #chifuyu x fem!reader

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itskindofidontknow · 9 months

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What dreams know about love?

Dream of The Endless/Morpheus x Love!OFC

Summary: The Queen of Love has grown used to the absence of her husband, the Dream King. After banning her from the Dreaming, they only saw each other when Morpheus summoned her for social or marital duties. He would go decades without calling for her, enamorated by a variety of mistresses. It broke Love's heart. Not that her husband cared. However, after being imprisioned for a century, The Dream King wants to regain his Queen's love. She doesn't believe him, not after centuries of neglect. The question is: Can dreams repair a broken heart?

Tag: Established relationship, arranged marriage, regency romance, eventual happy ending, angst, morpheus is a dick prepare to hate, love is eoster from west germanic mythology, typos are to be expected

A/N: First time bringing my work here. I posted this on my A03 it has multiple chapters, that I'll probably post it here, if you guys like. I am heavily inspired in Pride and Prejudice, Bridgertons, Marriage Story, Scenes from a Marriage, and every primetime drama of rich white people that has a stepford smiler broken bird with an impecable taste in clothes. Comments, questions are all welcome!

"He is back" A shiver runs through the silk-like skin of the Queen of Love, as her ladies and lords in waiting stare at her. It's been years since her lord husband summoned her. But she could never forget his calling.

The sacred vow they shared make it impossible to ignore or forget. A mortal silence takes over the music room where a few seconds ago, you could hear young maidens from all the different realms , daughters from different gods, suns and stars in flower crowns laughing, while dancing to the elegant harp concerto, young lords trying to find words to finish sonnets, the older ones sitting in comfortable chairs around their Queen, keeping pleasant and polite conversations or moving lazily their handfans, more from habit than from heat. Since the climate is always perfect adequate at the Garden of Lovers. The light atmosphere changed the minute Lady Love mentioned her husband. The whole court felt the cold wind whoosing through the white curtains and the sudden change of the pink and orange skies to a blue grayish color. They knew it would rain later.

As it did, since their Queen got married to before the king of dreams vanished.

"I must make haste. Alone." She announces while her maidens got up. They exchange worried looks hesitating before bowing and staying still. She knows her husband well enough to know he is not going to be in his best mood. And her maidens do not deserve to deal with him. He never was in the best mood with Love. 'Oh no, only his lovers get to see that' The Queen bitterly thought exiting the music room, almost running through the salmon marble floors that decorate the whole palace.

"My Lady". She heard Elijah running to reach her. Elijah was her most trustworthy cupid, her husband once called him ‘The Queen's Lucienne’ "My Lady Eostre, if I may speak freely, you don't have to…" She raises a hand, stopping him before he could finish and most likely commit treason. Love knew exactly what he was going to say. How she had grounds to ignore his calling, to never come to his aid ever again. After the abuse and disrespect of over a milennium. She knew it. She thought of it for years. But no matter what she thought, they were still husband and wife, king and queen, and although marriage may not be of any importance to her husband, to Love it was the most sacred institution

" Yes, I have. I must. He is still my lord husband as I am his lady wife, we made a sacred vow" The Queen looked sternly to her cupid, warning him " My good cupid, be careful, Dream is still your king, and one could take your words for treason" It was well-known that it is not wise to commit treason against an Endless, and to even suggest that a Endless' wife shouldn't come to his request was a dangerous territory. He lowered his head in respect "Apologies my Queen. It is a joyful occasion if our King is back." A mechanic polite answer. She nods in agreement, even if his face was heavy with worry for Eostre and not at all showing any joy in Morpheus return.

The lovefolk was not fond of the Dream King. They saw how their Queen's spirit got crushed with a loveless marriage over the centuries. How careless, and neglectful her husband was. Everytime Love would come back from the Dreaming, the entire Garden flooded with rain, mirroring the Queen 's tears, as she would lock herself in the bedroom and cry for days. She could never tell which was worse: Her husband ignoring her, without even a single kind word or a glance or when he impatiently acknowledged her, treating her as she was a burden to bear, a constant annoyance he needed to deal with.

The Queen of Love, however, believed in love, she believed that if she just tried hard enough, Morpheus would see her devotion, and they could actually have a happy fulfilling marriage. Love, better than anyone else, knew that most arranged marriages were a disaster. However as anthropomorphic manifestations of love and dreams, they weren't so different.

Mortals either dreamed of love or loved to dream for as long as they were created. Their marriage made sense. They even inspired the same mortal in two different occasions. He inspired a play called Midsummer Night's Dream, and she inspired Romeo and Juliet. They could be happy. She strongly believed in it.

How naive she was.

Dream didn't agree with their union from the beginning. A trick from his dear sibling, Desire, that became a political marriage. When Dream realize his sibling’s trap, it was already too late. Lady Love was infatuated by the love letters she received from her fiance (who, she later discovered, never wrote her any letter. Desire did. Misleading Love to elope). A few mischievous squemes made their union impossible not to happen.

As a Queen, Eoster tried for years everything a good monarch could: She tried to learn everything about the Dreaming, followed Lucienne around, asking for help to understand the dreamfolk, the laws of the Dreaming. Everything in her power to best fulfill her duties and help her husband with the burdens of a realm. She learnt how to love the dreamfolk, to care for them, to even bring peace of mind to distressed nightmares, to explain and defend her husband's harsh ways, to ease heavy hearts. It was easy for the dreamfolk to adore and become devoted to The Queen of Love.

As a wife, Love was by Morpheus' side at every official event and Endless reunion. She wanted to be more than just a lady wife, she wanted to be his partner. So eager to be a part of his life, although he didn't seem interested to be a part of hers.

Never even bothering to visit the Garden of Lovers, his wife's realm. Even with the king neglect and coldness, the Queen kept loyal and faithful. Dream could scan her sleep and never find any sinnful thought about a secret lover. She never wished for anyone besides him. Even with plenty of opportunities and suitors, her doves bringing letters of poems and sonnets from devoted mortals to sun-gods, praising her beauty, eager for her kisses, suffering from her loyalty, even then, Love never took a lover or indulged in immoral activities.

Eoster was ever obedient and submissive. An Endless outranked her, so due to her status. and to tradition, she never spoke out of turn or raised her voice. She always abide by his commands and attended to his every need. Even in private, she was dutiful. Never denying her husband, opening her legs to welcome him, whenever and wherever he saw fit. She would let him rip off beautiful long nightgowns, designed especially for nuptials, gladly taking him for as long as he wanted. Most times, she didn't take great pleasure in it. and Morpheus always seemed to be performing a duty. He didn't whisper sweet nothings, was gentle or cared for her after.

That was the first piece of her heart to be broken by her husband. To realize she was nothing but a quick-release for him. Only useful to scratch an itch he happened to have. As a goddess of love, purity, marriage and fertility, she knew how intimacy between lovers could be of burning passion, beautiful, caring, a true lovers' dance. How cruel her husband was to deny her, of all entities, even this pleasure. But he did. And the worst part was that Love knew he didn't even know he was causing pain, he just didn't care enough.

Another thing she didn't expect was that they almost never shared his bed for the night. Most of the times, after fulfilling the Dream King's needs in bed. She would be dismissed to her private chambers. ‘Like a common whore’ she often thought. If Morpheus ever thought of her, embarrassed, half-naked, wrapped in sheets, tip toeing crossing the corridor to her room, he never said anything. Love would especially be ashamed when bumping into Lucienne. The librarian always offered a respectful bow, looking over her glasses. Professionalism wouldn't let her say a thing, but the Queen could see the pity in the librarian's eyes, as Lucienne could see the Queen’s cheeks wet of tears.

As she savoryly remembers the nights of being used and discarded, she squeezes Elijah hand in reassurance "My sweet love child, worry not. I'll be back before you know it".

And just like that, the Queen of Love returned to her husband.

#the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless fanfic #the sandman #morpheus x reader #morpheus x wife #morpheus x ofc #dream of the endless x reader #lord morpheus #eoster #queen of love #sandman netflix

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cloverstayy · 2 months

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𝙽𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙸𝙶 𝙼𝙰𝙳 → 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗; 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗

So, for those of you whom aren't subscribed to Christopher's Bubble OR whom haven't either heard and/or seen about the most recent Bubble antics recently on other forms of social media, the man decided to live out his K-Drama Fantasies on behalf of Chan Stans and Stay everywhere.

What exactly did he do, you ask? Well, to put it simply (and trust me, this is difficult because Chan is my bias) he broke up with us, tried to accuse us of cheating, but then admitted it was him who had been cheating to then admitting he was playing a simple joke on us and reassured us that he'd never want to do anything to hurt us (bless him, I swear). Who was it? It was Berry. Yes. His dog, Berry. 😒😂

I'm pretty sure non-Chan stans were convinced there was something actually wrong with him due to the number of Tiktoks and Fans posts I personally saw, however, us Chan-biased knew the man was full of shit and was most assuredly pulling some of his usual Chan-coded shenanigans.

In any case, my bestie and twin @ariaphoenix26-blog demanded I post this somewhat random as fuck idea I had yesterday as head canon. So, yeah.

𝙽𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙸𝙶 𝙼𝙰𝙳

It didn't matter what Chris did, how he said it, or why he did it. The simple fact still remained the same: you could never get mad at him.

→ Chris is the type of man that if asked, he'd likely do some crazy shit for the person he loves. Walk over hot coals? Sure. Dodge a few bullets? Yeah, no problem. Clean your shared living space, wash and fold laundry, put away dishes and cook dinner last minute? Of course.

→ But ask him to do something like, take out the trash? Well, fuck all of that.

→ And, truthfully, its not because he's incapable. He's exceedingly able to do said task. Its just...well...well he gets really hyper-focused on a task, especially a task he wants to do, it kind of--sort of--slips his mind.

→ And sure, the first few times he tells you this and flashes that thought-paralyzing smile, its suddenly not a big deal and you have no problem taking it out yourself.

→ However, the moment it goes from "a few times" to "too many times", you're suddenly finding yourself overcome with a rather new emotion. At least, when it comes to anything related to Chris.

→ You're big mad. Furious even. And its justifiable! Even Chris would agree with you. He's a grown ass man; he knows better.

→ However, the stars align and the universe conspires against you the morning you do ask him to take it out.

→ You're running late. You have an entirely packed work schedule. You slept for literal shit the night before. Your favorite pair of work pants weren't clean. You didn't have your favorite breakfast yogurt and you had to do mandatory overtime to top it all off.

→ So you ask Chris last minute as you're hastily packing up your work bag to take out the trash before you get home from work later that evening.

→ "Yeah, yeah, of course, beautiful! I'll take care of it." He promises and you believe him. Because in that moment, you don't have the time nor bandwidth to remember to question him about the other times he forgot. So, in your haste, you thank him and plant a kiss on his forehead before dashing out the door for work.

→ Well, see, Chris really did intend to do it. And he even wrote it down on a post-it note that he stuck to the monitor of his computer to remind him. But then he got distracted, watching Stay vlogs on Youtube. And then he got inspired by a mashup of Case 143 and God's Menu that a Stay had made, so he had to mess around in his studio.

→ Then suddenly it was 6:30pm. Chris is the literal physical embodiment of If You Give A Mouse A Cookie.

→ Chris hears the door open when you arrive home. And then the subsequent shout of his name. Okay, you're definitely not happy. He's also pretty sure he hears some slamming of somekind, maybe.

→ But it isn't until he hears your little feet stomping down the hall towards his studio door that he cannot help but find you the absolute cutest thing he's ever seen and heard than in this moment.

→ And lets be clear...Chris never invalidates you or dismisses you when you're upset. He just can't help but find it really fucking precious.

→ But you? Well, you're pissed. And you're determined to let his ass know. Because every other time you have been upset with him, he somehow disarms you completely and you immediately forget why you were mad in the first place.

→ Its damn near impossible to be mad at him. I mean, look at him. How can you get mad at that face? You can't, that's why.

→ Anticipating you, Chris is on the other side of his studio door just waiting. And as expected, he hears the all too familiar bang, bang, bang of your fist making contact with the door.

→ You do your best to strengthen your resolve. This time you're gonna give him the people's elbow and really let him have it. He just couldn't keep getting away with this. You know it. He knows it.

→ But that was before he'd opened his door. Well, after your little fists pounded his door, he promptly opened it and looked down at you. His head cocked to the side, one brow lifted as if he has absolutely no clue why you're standing there with your arms crossed, tapping your foot against the hardwood floor while wearing a really pathetic attempt at pure ire.

→ And you were so determined to proverbially throat punch the man, especially after the day you'd had (and to be fair, Chris probably would've let you literally throat punch him if he knew it would make you feel better). But once he opens the door and the scent of his studio and him bum rushes your nostrils, your eyes dart up to his and...and...

→ Well, god fucking damnit.

→ What were you even mad at him for? Why is he looking at you like you're some sort of damsel in distress? Why is he smiling? What's so funny?

→ "CHRISTOPHER!" Is all you can manage, your voice coming out in more of an exasperated whine and definitely not sounding any bit angry.

→ Chris stands there and mirrors you, crossing his arms and leans into the door jam with his head still cocked to the side. One of his dimples is showing and you just know he fucking knows. He knows why you're standing there. And he knows why you're upset. Or, well, you think he knows just based on the way he's looking at you like the cutest little creature he's ever seen.

→ You release your crossed arms, letting out a very audible huff through your nose as you do and you just stare at him. Blinking wildly, trying to find the resolve you knew you had about 60 seconds ago. But where it went, you haven't a fucking clue. Because he's standing there...just looking at you like you are the cutest little creature he's ever seen.

→ "Baby?" He finally responds. His voice is calm, suddenly soothing your rattled nerves. You let out yet another huff, but this time its a little less intense and you drop your shoulders.

→ "I hate you. You know that? I'm mad. I'm mad at...you!" You press your finger gently into his chest as you speak, "But...but I can't fucking remember why now because you're looking at me like that and...and...UGH!"

→ Chris knows you had a rough day. He doesn't even need to ask you to know it. He just feels it radiating off of you. So, he cocks his head to the opposite side as you stand there, trying to be mad about something and looking less and less like the raging bull you thought you did and more like a shrieking squirrel.

→ And Chris lets a beat of silence go between the both of you before he simply places each of his hands on either side of your arms and brings you close to him. You hear a soft sigh breach his lips before he leans in and presses a firm, but gentle kiss to your forehead.

→ Yeah, this fucker disarmed you with the forehead kiss this time. Damnit, damnit, damnit.

→ He leans back up, straightening himself upright before giving your arms a gentle squeeze. And he doesn't say anything. His arms fall back to his sides as he resumes his previous stance against the door jam. He's still smiling at you like you are the cutest little creature he's ever seen.

→ You let out one last sigh. Well, the man did it again. And you can't even be mad. Because I mean, look at him. Try being mad at him. Its impossible.

→ You give a shake of your head before spinning on your heels, heading back down the hall towards the kitchen. But you feel Chris' eyes are still on you. And you look back over your shoulder and yep, there those brown little boba eyes are, locked on you.

→ "I'm mad at you. So don't you dare stare at my ass as I walk away from you." You look forward again, but not before you place a hand on each butt cheek in a feeble attempt to block Chris' gaze.

→ And all you hear are his muffled giggles. His absolutely adorable, precious and cute giggles. Fucking shitbird.

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ladythornofrivia · 4 months

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Kingdom of Fire & Blood || (Part Eight)

🐉 MASTERLIST 🐉

Next Chapter

summary: reader has been given a second chance after meeting a mysterious entity, as aemond watched reader die. Or so he thought.

a/n: half of aemond’s pov during chapter seven, then up until recent events.

pair: aemond x reader

warnings: smut, violence, p in v sex, sexual content, aemond being arrogant, modern reader doesn’t know how the world of GOT works, praise kink, breeding kink, spitting kink, voice kink, fluff, angst—family drama, oral sex, hate sex, stalking, jealousy, virginity loss, obsession, reader being sassy and aroused, sweet moments with reader and aemond. Reader is a huge GOT & HOTD fan. Pro-Green, Reader is a green supporter. Aemond becomes king instead of Aegon. (P.S. Alys who? I only know Aemond x Reader)

Chapter Eight: The Escape

~Aemond’s POV~

~During the coronation~

The people are dreaded. Dreaded and perplexed by the animosity of the attendance. Under the King’s orders, and King’s sudden awake, the audience made haste, hoping there would be some sort of celebration. But never expect their King to summon the announcement of an unknown woman standing by the steps of the Iron Throne, bestowed and dubbed by the name of Lady Greenstar.

Greenstar.

Who was this Greenstar, as the King anointed, and why does the King expect the common folk to be blatantly generous and idolize Viserys’s vision of regaining to strength to the Iron Throne with both factions becoming as a mighty house for generations? What does Lady Greenstar served purpose as? Aemond knew the purpose of her presence, but as of yet, the conflict has shaken the core of a young woman; she looked at Aemond for a minute, the next her stare dipped below to the steps decorated in iron swords, once held by Aegon’s enemies.

A private ceremony should’ve been suffice. After all, Lady Greenstar shared agreement with Queen Alicent the night before.

Hesitant she may look, but, the glowing beauty did not stop Aemond to admire at. You, the glowing figure, stood before him. In toned colors of black and green, the white shade of gown and round jewel.

The scream materialized and broke the quietness in the great hall when the man had his knife on Helaena’s throat. Needless to say, you stepped in. Although with appease, anger flamed in your eyes and offered the man to unhand Helaena. Until chaos pursued. Tackled and suffocated in the crowd, Aemond managed to shove the rest to aid you. Although surrounded, you managed to free and defend yourself in quick proficiency, which impressed Aemond. However saving Lucerys was a mistake—at least in Aemond’s view. Though he understood that it’s your duty to serve them.

Albeit, somehow….

Aemond hated it.

You should’ve killed Lucerys. Kill him for taking out his eye since he claimed Vhagar in nightfall—let him at die at the hands of an intruding foe. A quick mercy to his lifelong of his bastard in his boyhood.

Aemond rushed to your side, without realizing that a flying knife tossed at your direction, with his one lucky eye, Aemond deflected the flying blade with his—briskly taken out from a knife scabbard. It was close.

For a moment, his heart skipped when your eyes met his, before lunging a blade attack on another foe. By then all factions fled to a safe corridor. And by the great hall, all relaxed, yet afraid of the outcome—it was an absolute failure. Alicent and Rhaenyra quarreled, men watched afar, as you rested by the pillar far behind, clutching your red-stained belly.

Aegon stood beside Aemond, nonetheless, observing your reaction. Although you were dazed in lethargic condition, you held your hand up near to your face and kissed it. What were you were kissing?

Helaena stood by your side and tranquil you with her patting hand, urging to braid your (h/c) locks. It was an endearing moment, for the princess never touched or braid anyone’s hair. It was reasonably certified, since you’ve displayed nothing but as a protector.

While watching two ladies shouting, your eyes shifted to Aegon’s, then Aemond’s, dipped your head to a soft bow. Aegon gestured back, but Aemond is unsure; his heart lanced in misgiving observation.

When the altercation grew louder, worsened, your rasped voice told them to “stop”, and collapsed into Jace’s arms—another bastard. And before Aemond knew, you told him that they’re safe and your eyes fell onto Aemond’s and veiled, body stilled.

Ser Criston saw to your fate, and immediately reported the two monarchs of both factions and briskly faded into a panic. Alicent gave the order for you to see the Maester again, as Jace lifted your body in his arms, but his knees wobbled.

For a Strong bastard, he’s undeniably weak. He’s spent too much time staying on his mommy’s side for an extension of time in Dragonstone.

Annoyed, and somewhat discouraged of the outcome, Aemond’s motivated and masked anger, trudged his way through and retrieved you in his arms. But as soon as you under Aemond’s strong arms, he couldn’t sense whether you’re alive or not. All Ser Criston said that you “collapsed”. Collapsed could mean many things. Sickness could mean many things.

And Aemond was hoping for a better option—a better poison than a fatal one.

~~~

Incense wafted in the room—your room. Hot coal scorched, mingling against a soft, chilled wind.

“How is she? Will she outlive?” Alicent interrogated, clutching her sheer fabric that was clinging onto her shoulders, frantic eyes aimed at your body.

Otto, on the other hand, was displeased, fingers massaging his nose bridge. Behind the brick walls outside the room, Aemond leaned his back as his arms crossed, awaiting. Silence was drowning him with countless questions and heated debated locked inside his heart.

“The girl is…” Maester began, removing the cloak of your stained dress—corset loosened and heavy long skirt descended down passed to your smooth legs. The conflict in your body has shown. The poison seeped again, only this time the green spot spread quicker.

The Maester’s breath stopped for a second before resuming his medicinal work. “I must cater to a young woman. Her condition has been in a tangled moment betwixt the bridge of life and death once again. We mustn’t let it happen.”

“The ceremony has been anointed not too long ago, and this occurred,” Alicent rasped. “Then again, nothing life comes decency in Westeros.”

“Let us repose for now, Alicent,” Otto calmly said. “We have much to discuss in the council room. They’ve been expecting on our early arrival.”

All left except Aemond, who they never noticed him from quitting the room. Thank the gods nobody has noticed his subtlety of depravation. When the Maester hissed; the missing ingredients for the healing procession, he hasted to gather more.

Aemond slipped inside and approached, eyeing on your naked body, splayed with soft hills of your breasts, and silk of your slender waist. The maidenhood shielded with rosy pink fabric, and your red dragon markings across your limbs appeared as dwindling—though under a heated light of sun pooled your skin.

Aemond’s eye flicked below your lower arm.

On your hand, it veiled a gold ring twinkled on the fourth finger, not only that, a metallic bracelet rested on your wrist. Your (h/c) splayed across the table, visage dulled as lips parched despited painted in red.

Fingertips stroke against your smooth face and glimpsed at you one last time before the Maester enters to resume his work.

~~~

Later, with agitation filling up in his chest, like a dragon, he urged to rage, blazing the Red Keep with fire—with Vhagar at his side, for a lack of protection and proficiency of strength. The air struck him, tingled in his chest, simmering down.

At sundown, and until sundown, Aemond did nothing but abide in his room, reading and gathering the calamity on his jumbled thoughts, pacing back and forth in the room.

You were stabbed again. You’ve been stabbed before, maybe things would be under a familiar result—you’ll outlive the poison just as the first.

Just before long, he visited to your chambers—only to find you gone. The maids fixed the linens bedsheets and your tainted ceremonial dress.

“Where is she?” Aemond entered, watching the maids bowed to him in a coiled, shy fashion.

Lady Greenstar, his heart called.

“She’s dead, my prince,” the maid answered. “Queen Alicent escorted Lady Greenstar’s body down the grounds with the Silent Sisters.”

And the world collapsed on him, like the world without dragons, dragons without wings, shredded, it plunged down and anchored into the darkest oblivion.

~Your POV~

In oblivion, the unknown being have spoken to you, showed the ugliness and manipulation of your past life, as an act of self-interest. The contract between you and the unknown entity has been sealed, ending with your senses blocked with drained blood onto your eyes, ears and mouth.

What do we say to God of Death?

Not today.

Those are the words to pump and enliven your stilled chest once more.

A cold blade pressed against your flesh.

Hastened, your left hand seized the warm neck. Your eyes snapped open, your back sat up straight as you leveled yourself onto your knee, resting on the brick table, your palm squeezing the life of a Silent Sister. The Silent Sister gasped for air. As the others gasped, in quiet dread, trying to hold you back. Round kick them at once, you fled from the undergrounds. Though by the time you fled in a vulnerable naked state, you trudged on with little cloth strapped on your figure, tied it up as much as the knot can hold under your movement.

Somewhere at the grounds, your head pounded with ache. The voices inside your head felt like wind breezing. But these incoherent, cryptic voices guided you.

This way, it said.

Nonetheless, you followed.

How will you tell the Targaryens of your sudden revival? More importantly, how will you tell the Targaryens, and Hightowers, of escaping from The Stranger.

Rushing inside the Red Keep, anger boiled inside you, and the guards, who immediately averted their gaze at you, caught off guard. Their swords are at hand, unsheathed, prepare to fight. But one guard did not aim his weaponry against you.

Ser Erryk.

“Notify them at once,” said Ser Erryk, “I’ll escort Lady Greenstar back to her chambers.”

And so, they fled, but you had other ideas. Realization dawned upon you when the cloth strapped on your body is gone. Ser Erryk, ripped his cloak off and veiled you. Little did he know, you went straight to the Targaryens. With anger rising so much it strengthened your palms and feet rushing the halls and hands shoving the heavy oak doors, unveiling yourself before them.

The Targaryens flabbergasted at your presence, seeing anger wrinkled on your youth-like face, marching in menacingly as if a predator stalked its prey.

“My lady,” Alicent said, an intake of small breath drawn in.

“I thought she’s dead,” Jason Lannister whispered.

As your eyes darted to Aemond, you sensed that relief hinted upon his princely visage—his long, silver-gold hair gleamed under a hearth, as Aegon bemused at a scenery—something that Targaryens hadn’t received before.

“Here I thought I was early to the party,” you remarked, striding with assurance as Princess Helaena stood up, excitement written on her once timid expression.

“Lady Greenstar,” Helaena chirped.

~ Aemond’s POV ~

Five words summoned across the blackened mind.

His fair Dragoness is alive.

Taglist: @daonenonlysandman @toodlesxcuddles @kittendoll05 @omgsuperstarg @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @danika1994 @angeljcca @marvelescvpe @kukulyarva @namelesslosers @heavenly1927 @snh96 @herathedreamer @fandom-maniac-anime @httpsmenace @velunis @nananeptune @domithebomi @moonseye @valeskafics @faesspace @rxixo31 @tm-starr @xinthia19 @popsycles @naiaaramena @aleemendoza2425-blog @letmehavemyfictionalmen @aracelipf @ammo23 @blackswxnn @buccini555 @watercolorskyy @taangie @wolfdressedinlace @qardasngan @justyelena @jolixtreesunn @runekisses @jmii722 @colored-tr-panels @evergreen9083 @foggypeacestarlight @dixie-elocin @galactict3a @momowhoo @saturnssrings @dani5216 @laureeedn

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thiswasneverthat · 9 months

Text

jealousy

❅ lee know x fem!reader

❅ smut, celeb!au, make-up artists!reader

❅ wc: 2.9K

❅ dom!minho, light choking, no sexual intercourse, nipple play

"Would you be fine with this scene? I could try and ask the director to make a slight alteration with the entire thing, you know?" Minho said as he reached out to hold your hand.

"I am fine, don't worry about it. I have seen you kiss so many girls," you chided in a teasing tone and playfully sway his hand away before resuming to put on his make-up.

Since he brought the matter to you a few weeks ago, you told him that he had your undivided support for his career. You didn't even bother to ask for the details because you trusted him.

"Oh, please," acting as if he was offended by what you just said, he rolled his eyes. "I have always made it up to you whenever I kiss a girl in a drama or movie."

You only shrugged a little. "I don't know, I don't remember."

"You want me to remind you about that here?"

"Just.. Shut up."

Minho only snickered as he watched you biting your lip— you always did that when you were nervous or flustered. He knew better than anyone how you were going to react whenever he brought any subjects about your sexual activities in a public space, where walls have ears.

Though it wasn't like the other staff who worked for him were entirely oblivious about your relationship with him, but they didn't need to know the details. No one needed to know, except the two of you.

"Come to my place tonight, I have no schedule tomorrow," Minho whispered as he leaned forward, his right hand finding its way to slightly squeezed your ass.

"No, if you keep on doing that!" a slight hiss past your lips as you gently landed your clenched fist on his upper arm, which caused him to let out a silent groan.

And right about when he was about to shoot you a complaint, a filming staff called him out from the doorway. "Minho, we're all ready."

"I'll be right there!" he quickly nodded to the staff before looking at you again.

"Go, hurry. I'll be right there in a moment to watch you on the bed with her," you said with a smirk, knowing very well that it would add a little pressure on him.

"I promise I'll make it up to you," Minho pledged as he swiftly kissed you on the lips before dashing out of the waiting room.

Once he was out of sight, you immediately tidy up all the make-up kit and made haste toward filming the set. You were feeling somehow eager to watch Minho shoot a bed scene. This was his first bed scene since you two started dating half a year ago.

Before getting into a relationship with you, Minho never had a problem shooting a bed scene, but after dating you, he felt bad to shoot such a scene. However, you always convinced him that you didn't mind. You had watched him kissing or making out with his co-star before, and you never felt jealous. You knew it came with the jobs, beside, he always made it up to you after filming.

When you reached the set, the other staff were already gathered around. Tough crowd to watch a bed scene, you thought.

"I bet she's going to take an advantage of this," you heard a staff whisper to her friend.

"It's true then? She really had a big ass crush on him?"

At the mention of crush, your brows furrowed skeptically.

"It's true! I am surprised words haven't spread around, her own staff always talked about it. I heard she even asked one of her stylists to get his number for her."

You were stupefied for a few seconds as you tried to fathom what you just heard.

"Uh, nonsense," you mumbled to yourself and immediately shook your head, trying your best to not let the things you just heard get into your head.

After all, those were probably mere rumors that circulated around the staff. You knew that kind of thing happened all the time, especially around actors and actresses.

"Maybe you are right, just look at the way she dolled up like that," the two staff continued whispering.

And you.. You knew you better walk away but your feet refused to move an inch. Something inside your head told you to listen more.

"Exactly! She persuaded the director to let her wear whatever she wanted for this scene."

Oh, well.. you couldn't help but felt something poking a gear inside your head. And it might be way too quick to change your mind but your assessment of these rumors might have altered a little.

As you let the curiosity get the best of you, you stepped closer to the set to take a better view and then you saw her— the actress that the two staff had been talking about.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a pleated nightgown with unlined lace cups that could barely cover her tits, her nipples were slightly visible through the lace. Even the pleated chiffon bodice was seemingly not enough to cover half of her body, you bet you could see her white silk panties if she spread her legs a little.

"Damn," you hissed lowly to yourself.

When Minho said he was going to film a bed scene, this was clearly not what you had in mind. Not with this circumstance where the co-star allegedly had a crush on him and not when she explicitly dressed like that to.. seduce him?

The regret had now slowly dawned on you. You should've asked your boyfriend about the details back then.

In other occurrences before, seeing Minho getting immersed in character when he kissed another girl, you admitted that was kind of hot. When the two of you watched his drama from a year ago, you even teased him for passionately sucking his co-star on her chest.

However, this time, everything suddenly felt different. Even though you knew Minho wouldn't deliberately do something that would make you upset, now you had a tainted sentiment about his co-star.

"Minho, get on the bed."

You snapped out of your musing as you heard the director call his name. Your eyes immediately scanned the set, searching for your boyfriend.

And there he was, you found him walking nonchalantly to the bed, not a single thread of clothing concealing his upper body. His honey skin and chiseled abdomen were in full view for everyone to see. As if it wasn't enough, he was only wearing ripped jeans that were hung so low on his hip bone. He was so fucking attractive and you had to restrain yourself to not shield him from the prying eyes.

"Oh God," you let out a heavy sigh. The thoughts of him and his co-star in bed together had begun to mess with your head. Surprisingly, you were nervous and you had never been this nervous to see your boyfriend on set.

As Minho settled himself in the middle of the bed with his back resting against the headboard, you caught his co-star biting her lower lip.

"You will walk from the door and slowly crawl on the bed," the director said as he pointed to the girl. "Don't sway your hips too much, just keep it a little bit sensual. You got it?"

The girl nodded gingerly as she tucked strands of her dark brown hair behind her ear, looking eager to get into action.

"Minho, make sure to maintain eye contact as she approached you. Once she straddled your lap, you begin to gently kiss her on the neck. From there, you both can improvise."

"Got it," Minho answered curtly before clearing his throat.

Once the director finished giving additional instructions to the other staff on the set, the shot was ready to begin.

With bated breath, you attentively watched how the co-star strode closer to the bed before crawling on top of it, and as you had guessed, her scanty babydoll could hardly cover her butt. Her silk panties and the swell of her buttcheeks were visible to everyone around the set.

As the camera continued rolling, she was more than eager to straddle your boyfriend's lap. Both of their eyes were locked on each other as Minho placed his hands on her sides and started kissing her neck.

You felt something caught in your throat as if you had just swallowed a giant pill when she moaned and hauled Minho closer to her, she was enjoying his touch and kisses, much to your dismay.

It was so fucking hard to watch.

When one of her hands suddenly seized Minho's hand and guided it to her tits, you shut your eyes tightly. The memory of the nights you spent with him flashed before your eyes. He did that to you all the time, he loved to fondle your tits as he fucked you raw.

And now he was doing that to another girl, except for the latter. Your head was reeling and your heart was aching. You knew it wasn't on purpose, you knew he was just doing his job, but more than you'd like to admit, you felt a strong wave of jealousy surge through your whole body.

"Cut!" the director called out and it brought you back to your senses.

Your eyes instantly flickered open and then the first thing you saw was the girl talking to your boyfriend with a seductive smile on her faceㅡ and she was still straddling his lap. He was nodding to something she said before a chuckle slipped past his mouth.

Fuck. Without you knowing, your hands clenched into tight fists, eyes glued to the view in front of you.

"Director, can we retake the scene? We feel like something is missing," the girl questioned as she removed herself from Minho's lap.

The director then walked to approach her with a frown. "Well, that was good, I think we can proceed to the neㅡ"

"Right, Minho? We can do better than that," she cut in and glance at Minho.

While still sitting on the bed, Minho only shrugged his shoulders. "Well, yeah.. it's fine with me either way."

"Alright then, let's do it one more time," the director agreed with a nod before telling the other crew to get ready for another shoot.

Fuck again, fuck.

Right at that moment, you just wanted to disappear. You doubted you had the strength to watch that one more time.

Jealousy was clearly a new element in your relationship with Minho. You know people said that there was always a first time for everything yet you never thought that the first time of your jealousy would be quite.. intense. Hell, you never even thought that you would ever be jealous at all.

Minho was the perfect boyfriend. An immaculate lover, in bed or anywhere else. He always made time for you despite his busy schedule, he cared for you like no one else, he only had eyes for you and he put you as one of his priorities. And now, you somehow felt bad for being jealous yet you couldn't really help it. Maybe some kind of demon just possed you out of nowhere because this wasn't like you.

Your heart told you to walk away from the set and just wait for Minho at his apartment like you usually did. Waiting for him to come home and make it up to you, spending the entire night in each other's embrace. However, this time your mind said otherwise. The jealousy was a little too prominent to ignore, undoubtedly troubling your heart and mind.

"Everyone get ready!" the director called out again and the echo of his voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

Involuntarily, your feet took a few steps closer to the set, though you were still hidden behind the other crews. From where you were standing, you doubted if Minho could see you.

"Action!"

As soon as the shoot started, both of your hands curled into tight fists and you felt a lump forming in your throat, eyes focused on the pair.

This time around, your boyfriend's co-star deliberately pulled the strap of her nightgown down, revealing her plump tits to him as she straddled his lap. When he began kissing her neck, she reached for his hand and placed it on her tits.

You swore you were about to lose your shit the moment you watch Minho starting to fondle her tits in his handㅡ if it wasn't for your fellow make-up artist who came out of nowhere and pulled you away from the set with her. You were so taken aback that you couldn't say anything or even simply refuse.

"I have been looking for you, you know?" she breathed out in relief as she dragged you with her along the hallway. "We have a meeting with Minho's manager in five."

Right. You were too busy indulging your jealousy that you forgot about the meeting. Minho had an overseas schedule by the end of the month and the team got a lot to discuss.

During the meeting, it was decided that you would also be joining the team for this overseas schedule. It would be one week trip and you were already dreading it.

And almost an hour later after the meeting was over, you quickly packed up your things because there was nothing else you want more than to get back home as soon as you can. So, in long strides, you walked down the hallway, heading out to the parking lot.

However, when you were about to open your car's door, you were hauled to the sideㅡ causing you to yelp a little.

"Where are you going?" Minho deadpanned as he pinned you between his sturdy figure and your car.

You weren't expecting to see him in front of youㅡ for all you knew he was still on the filming set. And before you could weigh your answer, the words just rolled out of your lips. "Going home, I am tired."

Minho's brows raised skeptically at the answer. "I thought you were coming to my place tonight?"

"Next time, okay?" you answered halfheartedly as you tried to open your car's door again but he immediately stopped you. This time, he gripped your wrist tightly.

"You were at the filming set earlier, weren't you?"

With his sharp gaze locked on you, you couldn't help but tilt your head to the sideㅡ avoiding eye contact with him.

"Answer me, I asked you a question."

If it wasn't for the jealousy that was bubbling inside your chest, you would have squirmed a little at the way he was talking to you at that momentㅡ his voice deliciously dropped an octave, making him sound authoritative as ever.

After you gulped thickly, you nodded your head. "Yeah."

"What did you see?"

And even though you were still avoiding staring at him in the eyes, you could tell from his voice that he was smirking.

"Not much, I guess," you uttered hesitantly.

Minho then clicked his tongue in mock annoyance as he reached his hand behind you to unlock your car. "Get in."

"What?"

"Get inside, now."

You couldn't hide the surprise on your face, however, you heeded his words. And the next thing you know, you were straddling his lap in the cramped backseat of your car.

"This is what you see, right?" Minho questioned with a frown as he eagerly unbuttoned your shirt.

"Minho, whㅡ what are you doing?" you stuttered, watching him undressing you with wide eyesㅡ however, you did nothing to stop his action.

"You saw me kissing her and playing with her tits, right?" he asked again, this time the frown on his face had been replaced with a wicked sneer.

In a matter of seconds, you were left with only your braㅡ your shirt was nowhere to be seen, he has probably thrown it on the front seat.

"What else do you see?"

"Uh, that's all, I swear Iㅡ" your words ceased in your throat the moment he loosely wrapped his slender fingers around your neck. It wasn't like you couldn't breathe, but his action totally caught you off guard.

"You don't like it when I touch other girls the way I touched you, right?"

"Mhm yes.." that was all you managed to say as you placed one of your hands on his shoulder for support.

"And you're jealous?" he demanded with a raised brow, his fingers around your neck tightening a bit. "Why would you? You know it meant nothing more than a job for me, don't you?"

You instantly nodded your head in response and shifted slightly on his lap. Because instead of frightening the shit out of you, when this particular side of him came to the surface, you couldn't help but yearn for more. You knew he meant no harm, he never did even once.

And when he swiftly unhooked your bra and brought his face closer to your tits, you instinctively arched your back.

"This what you saw?" he whispered as he trailed wet kisses on your tits, his hot breath hitting your nipple causing you to groan. "It was different though, I would never do this to someone else."

"Fuck!" a breathless moan escaped your throat the moment he nibbled on your nipple.

"So, enlighten me, why are you jealous again?"

"It's.. it's because youㅡ" it was truly a struggle to force your brain to think of a reason while he was stimulating your tits with his fingers, mouth, and tongue.

"What?" he urged, his other hand found its way to palm your cunt through your jeans.

"You are.." your head was thrown to the back the moment he unbuttoned your jeans and slipped his hand inside. "Fuck, mine only, Minho. Just mine."

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee know fanfic

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dollopheadedmerlin · 1 month

Text

Started watching Dungeon Meshi and I'm into it, it's cool, it's fun

HOWEVER It truly feels like there are NO STAKES.

I can accept the fact that there is a curse on the dungeon so that if you die there, resurrection magic can bring you back to life. Like okay cool I guess. There's lore behind it. You do still need a magic user to succeed. Maybe if you die real deep in the dungeon your body will never be recovered and you'll be trapped there forever. Neat.

But the tension, the time crunch of the whole first plot is that they have to save Falin before she is digested, and then we get there, she IS digested, and they're like ah no worries we can just do it anyway.

WHAT

And yes I know, they used dark magic and dragon meat and that is likely going to lead to some drama and some cool weird powers, but it just kinda made the whole "we gotta hurry before she is digested!" Feel like fabricated haste, especially since they do tend to take their sweet time moving through the dungeon anyhow.

But what REALLY annoyed me, was when Laios goes to attack the dragon, and he does this EPIC last ditch effort strategy where he LETS the dragon bite his leg so that he can DANGLE upside down and stap the soft spot from ITS MOUTH and then the dragon reflexively bites down and SEVERES HIS LEG

It was such an epic scene and the expressions on Laios's face were really engaging and the whole thing was just really cool and artfully done

ONLY FOR HIS LEG TO BE SLAPPED BACK ON WITHIN TWO MINUTES LIKE IT WAS NOTHING!? WHAT WAS ALL THAT DRAMA FOR?? YA KNEE YOU WERE GETTING YOUR LEG BACK! THAT'S WO CHEAP! TAKE HIS LEG, LET HIM HAVE ONE LEG!!! LET THE ACTIONS HAVE CONSEQUENCES PLEASE NONE OF THIS HEEHEE HAHA LEMME FIX YOU UP RQ LIKE NOTHING EVER HAPPENED WHAT

otherwise it's a pretty bangin show

#mine #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon

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disco-elysium-via-polls · 5 months

Text

"Disco Inferno!" (Press the button.)

+5 XP

+1 Superstar Cop

MEASUREHEAD - As you slam your fist on the button the man collapses entirely, his head rolling to the side...

MEASUREHEAD'S BABE - "Looks like you're the new Measurehead now."

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] - Her voice is surprisingly calm.

KIM KITSURAGI - "No one is the new Measurehead -- let's go. Before he gets up..." The lieutenant makes haste toward the door.

+1 Reputation

We can now enter the harbour.

The door is locked and cannot be opened from this side without a pass card.

Guess you have no choice but to talk to the Union leader.

*EVERY WORKER - MEMBER OF THE BOARD* is written at the top of the flyers.

And at the bottom: the Union logo and *DEMAND DEMOCRACY*!

This is a *Dewy* typewriter -- the model name is on the back.

A standard office file cabinet. The drawers seem to be locked.

Someone left the coffee machine on.

The dark liquid in the pot looks almost sentient.

POSTCARD "LE JARDIN '21"

This laminated post card offers a glimpse across the river. A little more than a decade after the war, the eastern bank is already fully renovated. The hillsides are lush with gardens and residences, someone's parked a small beige airship by the fountain. This postcard will sell for a pretty penny.

NEAT OFFICE SHADES

+1 Visual Calculus: Eye of the reckoner -1 Drama: A bit dry

These were stuffed away in the Dockworker's Union office. They're perfect for scribbling down paperwork when the sun tries to get in your eye. Good for staring down suspects too.

There's also a Magnesium in here.

FILE CABINET - On second glance, someone has forgotten to properly close one of the drawers.

KIM KITSURAGI - "It's *unfortunate* for the Union to just leave their paperwork lying around like this..."

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] - ...let's see what's inside, he thinks.

Open the drawer.

Ignore the drawer for now. [Leave.]

FILE CABINET - The drawer opens smoothly. Inside is a well-organized selection of brown folders.

Browse through the folders.

Close the drawer. [Leave.]

FILE CABINET - Hundreds of documents containing logistical data. Two kinds of transactions stand out: materials coming into Revachol from the outside world -- from Mundi, Graad, and even Iilmaraa...

...and the same materials being handed over to companies inside Revachol. Couron, Coal City, La Delta, and Jamrock are listed among the many districts where the imports are being sold.

Anything interesting? (Browse them.)

FILE CABINET - It's hard to make sense of this thicket of company names, dates, quantities, and percentages. You try to focus, but the lines are getting blurry...

2. [Volition - Medium 10] Force yourself to go through the folders.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] - Whatever's hidden here is hidden well. Concentration isn't enough, only a trained accountant, with a background in logistics, would be able to *really* make sense of it. However there *is* a little hand-written note, stuck on the side of the drawer.

Look at the note.

"Never mind the note." (Close the drawer.)

FILE CABINET - It appears to be a to-do list written in large, uneven capital letters:

REMEMBER, LEO!

* EVRART'S SHOES * SPECIAL WHIRLING BORSCHT * WATER EVRART'S PLANTS * SWEEP OFFICE FLOOR * MORE BANNERS

All items on the list have been crossed out and the note itself is crumpled.

(Turn to the lieutenant.) "Look, Kim, a to-do note with a list of errands for *Evrart*."

Ignore the note.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Evrart Claire, probably -- the head of the Débardeurs' Union." He inspects the note. "One of his aides must have left it. Nothing incriminating here."

+5 XP

3. Close the drawer. [Leave.]

FILE CABINET - The drawer slides shut smoothly.

THOUGHT COMPLETE: COL DO MA MA DAQUA

BONUSES: +3 Perception: Golden ear -1 Encyclopedia: No room for anything else

It's not only your eardrums that register sound anymore – your very skin has become an organ of hearing. Looking for a whisper light and low, a god who’s very, very silent. Nothing escapes you – a cockroach in the other room, a candy wrapper falling on dry grass, a drunk falling from a chair in a bar 20 metres away. In fact, you haven’t heard the Col Do Ma Ma Daqua, but you *have* discovered that you have amazing hearing. It must be the only part of you the alcohol hasn’t drowned out. Keep listening!

That's a lot of Perception. It'll be worth looking around Martinaise some more, once we get back on the streets.

ITEM GAINED: BOOK "LA FUMEE, VOL. 1 NO. 4"

The leading intellectual organ of Martinaise communism. Offers a radical Masovian perspective on a range of contemporary issues. The cover features a stylised portrait of the late King Frissel with a pair of white antlers growing out of his head.

Let's read this later.

A giant assprint on the pillow and a pattern of coffee rings on the armrest...

The radio is emitting strange buzzing sounds.

PUNCH CLOCK/PAYPHONE - An imposing combination of a punch-clock and a payphone is looking down at you from the wall. A note on the side says: "Tokens unavailable due to strike. Use change."

Insert 10 cents.

[Leave.]

Why not?

PUNCH CLOCK/PAYPHONE - The machine swallows your coin and seems to be waiting for your next move.

[Interfacing - Challenging 12] Let your muscle memory dial a random number.

[Leave.]

INTERFACING [Challenging: Success] - Your fingers run over the dial pad. 005... that's the dialling code for Revachol -- 49-52... and a moment of hesitation before entering the final numbers: 993.

PUNCH CLOCK/PAYPHONE - Calling...

Calling...

Still calling... then...

VIDEO REVACHOL, 24H - ...a crackle, someone picks up! They say: "Video Revachol, 24 hour video rental. We rent eight- and ten-millimetre film for home use. This is Lemmy, how may I help you?"

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Medium: Success] - The voice of a youngster on the other end sounds as enthusiastic as that of a man walking towards the gallows.

"What is this place?"

VIDEO REVACHOL, 24H - "Video Revachol is a 24 hour video rental. We rent eight and ten millimetre film for home use. This is Lemmy."

"No, I meant, what is this place to *me*?"

"Do you know me?"

"Why did I call you?" (Continue.)

VIDEO REVACHOL, 24H - "Sir, I don't know. It's a video rental. Maybe you rent videos here?"

2. "Do you know me?"

VIDEO REVACHOL, 24H - "No."

3. "Why did I call you?" (Continue.)

VIDEO REVACHOL, 24H - "Maybe you called to extend your rental period? Do you need to extend your rental period?"

"Maybe, but I don't even know my *name*."

"My name is Raphael Ambrosius Costeau. Do you have anything on my name?"

Quietly hang up the phone. [Leave.]

VIDEO REVACHOL, 24H - "Raphaël *what*? Listen, I can't help you over the phone." He sounds annoyed now. "If you need further assistance you can visit us on the corner of Voyager and Main. Are we done?"

+5 XP

Level up!

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - He thinks you're pulling a prank on him.

VIDEO REVACHOL, 24H - The call is terminated by the other party. You're left with the discomforting sound of the disconnect tone.

That... that's enough for today.

#disco elysium #kim kitsuragi #measurehead

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royaltysimblr · 11 months

Photo

The Princess Mary’s Love Life - Update #1

The Princess Mary has had a chaotic love life since we last saw her. At her debutante ball she was heartbroken over the end of her three month relationship with Crown Prince Maximillian of Monaca. Princess Mary was not seen publicly with anyone until she was 20 when she was seen with a mystery man many have believed to be Brandon Shellstrop, a wealthy business mogul who was 27 at the time. It wasn’t until Princess Mary was 22 when she started dating again, her first boyfriend since the Crown Prince being Neal Hays, a famous singer who has won numerous awards and has achieved worldwide acclaim. Princess Mary was spotted at his concert in October and a month later they were seen walking in San Myshuno together. The relationship caused quite a scandal as Neal was 33 years old while the Princess was 22. The relationship ended after only 4 months together, there has been much speculation about why their relationship ended but a rockstar and a future queen would not make a great match!

Princess Mary stayed single for the next year but was often seen in the company of Oliver Montgomery, her ex-boyfriend, the Crown Prince of Monaca’s cousin. It seemed as if the two were friends as there was no PDA between them unlike a few other men she was seen with.

When Mary was 24 she started dating WAFTA winning actor Patrick Dunn. Patrick was invited to the annual San Myshuno Palace Garden Party where he met Mary and the King and Queen. Mary was smitten and started dating him a few weeks later. They were seen shopping and getting coffee in San Myshuno. They also were seen vacationing together in Sulani two months later. The pair dated for a year, and they even attended the 85th WAFTA Awards together, with the Princess wearing a custom dress by Valerie Le Croix. Patrick won Best Actor in a Television Drama and gave a nod toward his girlfriend in his speech. However, 3 months later the pair ended their relationship amicably.

Mary started dating Eric Ellington, 6th Duke of Wells 6 months after her relationship with Patrick ended. Mary and Eric were set up by the princess’s cousin, Princess Margaret of Gardania. Eric and Mary had known each other for years and they ran in the same social circle, with Eric escorting her best friend Lady Mikaela Hastings at her debutante ball years prior. Eric was seen as the perfect husband for Mary, he was intelligent, charitable, kind, and was a member of nobility. Mary and Eric dated for almost 2 years. Eric started appearing at important functions at the palace such as the Brichester State Dinner and Princess Mary’s Investiture as Princess of the Isle. It was clear the couple were destined for marriage. Two weeks after the Princess’s investiture a story leaked that Eric had proposed to Mary and she rejected him. A source close to the couple claimed that Mary was not ready to become a “bride” and wanted to focus on her duty as the Princess of the Isle.

For the next two years Mary was not seen publicly with any boyfriend, her relationship with Eric ended and it seemed as if she was going to remain single for the rest of her twenties. However, at the Princess’s 29th birthday party Oliver Montgomery was spotted at the Palace. The next day Oliver and Mary were seen holding hands in San Myshuno while getting coffee together. In the next few weeks Oliver started renting an apartment in San Myshuno near Princess Mary’s residence, Honey House. Oliver and Mary dated for around 5 months before the palace announced their engagement.

#StatfordLegacy #sims4 #sims #ts4 #ts #the sims #sims 4 legacy #royals #royalty #legacy #sims 4 legacy challenge #ts4 royalty #ts4 royals #the sims 4 royals #the sims 4 royalty #s4 royals #s4 royalty #PrincessMary

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starcrossedjedis · 2 months

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Look, I never really got emotionally attached to Bridgerton as a show, which is also why I never went and read the books, but the sneaky peeks these days remind me how very attached I was to my three "Spinster Society" OCs and their storylines 🥹

Ms. Kitty Turner - illegitimate bastard daughter of the late Lord Bridgerton's brother, who - following a string of rather sad events - happened to grow up with her flock of picture perfect Bridgerton cousins.

When it's time for her cousin Daphne to debut, her cousin Anthony as new head of the family makes the decision not to let Kitty debut alongside his sister.

Worried both about what the merciless gossip machine of the ton might do to her and about what such a ruckus could do to Daphne's prospects, he thinks it best to keep her on the periphery of things.

Alas, Queen Charlotte has other ideas ("I believe we are missing a young lady today...") and commands Kitty debuts along with the others.

The young lady in question however is less than thrilled. She had been looking forward to spending the season in peace and with her two best friends. Learning that Poppy is in France and won't be joining them is bad enough, now she has to prance around like a show pony and make nice with spoiled young men who either wouldn't court her even if their life depended on it or who see her as nothing but an exotic notch to put on her belt.

And when it seems that the rakish Duke of Hastings is making the moves on her very innocent cousin, Kitty fears that this season she really has her work cut out for her...

(In which the scene in the maze really is just a misunderstanding and a certain someone declares his intention to marry a certain bastard in front of the Queen and a crowd of people expecting him to propose to The Diamond™️. Also no one is being raped in this one and pulling out is not contraception, thank you ☝️)

Ms. Poppy Featherington (yes, I know Poppy is also an abbreviation for Penelope shhhht 🤫) - the oldest Featherington daughter used to be her mother's favourite, mostly because the ton was certain that out of all the sisters she was the most likely to strike a notable match. Her mother even harboured hopes that she might be the one to finally tie that inseparable bond with the Bridgertons, when her eldest daughter stroke up a surprising friendship with the future Viscount.

But following her debut season - a season without a match, might we add - she did not return to the ton the following year, chosing instead to study in France, according to her mother.

When she returns for what is supposed to be the season of Miss Edwina Sharma, she is a changed woman - earnest and almost reclusive, without patience for her mother's meddling to intervene with Anthony's and Edwina's budding courtship and opening up only to her best friend Kitty - the new Duchess of Hasting - and her cousin Charlie.

But even they aren't privy to her biggest secret - and the real reason she was missing from the merry and the crazy of the ton for so long...

Mr. Charlie Featherington - cousin of the Featherington bunch, oldest member of the "Spinster Society" and a definite favourite of the ton in recent seasons.

Alas, where in the first few years people were aghast as to why someone like him - handsome and kind, with a sweet smiley and dreamy eyes - hadn't found himself a wife yet, more recently hushed rumours have been starting to circulate behind close doors as to why the young man might not be in a hurry to marry.

Benedict Bridgerton - fully occupied by his family's own dramas and scandals and thus blissfully unaware of most of the ton's secrets, lies and cause for rage - is happy to find a likeminded friend in passionate writer and artistic soul Charlie, as well as someone who is not afraid to be frank about his opinions on Benedict's art.

But soon Benedict sees reason to question Charlie's feelings for him - and yet more importantly, the way he feels about the sweet, young man who seems to be so utterly at peace with the implications of living out his days a "Bachelor".

#my OCs #my writing #kitty turner #poppy featherington #charlie featherington #I was at the hair dressers and had nothing but time #and feelings #Bridgerton #bridgerton oc

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inlovewith-icecream · 29 days

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Pretty Little Liars: Ten Theories on the Mannequin Family

1. Vivian Darkbloom’s family.

Vivian Darkbloom is Alison's alter-ego, her fantasy self when she’s living another life: “Don’t you wish you could just be someone else?” Charlotte later takes on her identity, fleeing to Paris.

She’s supposed to be what Alison and Charlotte then want to be, and that includes the perfect “model” family, sharing “cherished memories” and “warmth and laughter” that Charlotte didn’t get.

2. Alex Drake’s wealthy family.

Alex Drake was sold from Mary Drake and Dr Cochrane to a wealthy British family that abandoned her at an orphanage when she was four.

Her adoptive parents along with adoptive siblings that were kept and loved, unlike her. The handprints on the wall are the mark of Alex who was abandoned by her adoptive family and lived a terrible life, even if they’re still living in their perfect model family.

3. Sara Harvey’s family.

Parents and a little brother, the blonde little girl can be either Sara or her sister instead (similar to number two where Alex is missing from the family dolls).

We learn Sara came from an abusive home in early S6. This could be related to the handprints on the wall.

4. More standard - Charlotte’s family.

Of course there could be a more standard answer to this question: simply Jason, Charlotte, Jessica, Kenneth. This is when Charlotte was still with her family. Jessica is pregnant with Alison.

After Alison came into the world Charlotte’s life changed not only by the bathtub incident but the boundless love she’d always have for her sister.

5. Bethany’s family.

Related to Charlotte giving (via Black Widow) condolence flowers to Bethany Young’s parents? Maybe or maybe not. The handprints on the wall are in three different colours. Three different Dilaurentis’s (the family of puppet masters) had its hand in affecting that family, and not for the better.

First - Jessica having an affair with Mr Young.

Second - Charlotte either trying to hit Bethany the night she died or digging up her grave, maybe there’s more we don’t know on Radley…

Third - Alison was supposed to be the target, but the hit ended up being made on Bethany. A fatal mistake…

6. Archer Dunhill’s family.

The reasoning for why Charlotte would have a mannequin family of Archer’s family (presumably casting him as the young boy) is dubious. However since he was her love it’s not implausible to assume she’d commemorate him in some way - and what better way to do that other than the other thing she loves the most; dolls?

7. Wren Kingston’s family.

Same with Archer especially since he was a major part of Charlotte meeting her sister and he seemed to know about the Dilaurentis-Drake-Hastings family drama back in *season 5* according to 7x20. Is it really a stretch to suspect a bigger role from him?

8. Charlotte and Archer’s future family.

With how much Charlotte cares about family it isn’t out of the picture that she’d want one with her true love Archer. The black haired mother Charlotte could be the Vivian Darkbloom disguise she continues donning after she runs away with Archer after being in Welby.

9. Not loved ones but lost ones.

The woman is Marion Cavanaugh, the man is Darren Wilden, the little girl is Bethany Young, and the little boy is “Charles” Dilaurentis.

It’s not a family, it’s the ones Charlotte has lost along the way, for better or worse, by outside forces or by choice (Side note: The handprints represent who they are survived by, one person with each colour. Maybe Marion is red or Wilden is or Bethany is green, could go either way. Either way none of them are for “Charles”).

10. Alice’s family.

No deeper meaning, but could this be the third reference to the mysterious, almost ghost-like, little blonde girl?

(In my view, this seems the most likely theory.)

#icepost #pretty little liars #pll theory #pll theories #cece drake #charlotte dilaurentis #alex drake #sara harvey #bethany young #archer dunhill #wren kingston #darren wilden #marion cavanaugh #alice #pll alice #alison dilaurentis #jessica dilaurentis #kenneth dilaurentis #jason dilaurentis

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foundtherightwords · 10 months

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Love in a Storm - Epilogue

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham (Regency AU)

Summary: A devastating loss threatens the happy marriage of Edward and Christine Munson, Lord and Lady Hurtsfield. However, when Edward is accused of a crime he didn't commit, Christine has to set her grief aside and embark on a perilous journey to prove her husband's innocence.

Warnings: childbirth, stillbirth, infertility, angst, false accusation, wrongful imprisonment, legal drama, some violence (non-graphic), some smut (non-explicit)

Chapter warning: childbirth (non-graphic)

Chapter word count: 1.5k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11

Epilogue

Yorkshire, April 1824

The ewe lay on her side with a solemn expression, her round belly moving in time with her heavy breathing. Two pairs of eyes, one brown and one blue, were fixed on her. They belonged to Edward Munson, Baron Hurstfield, and his daughter, the Honorable Agnes Munson. Both were lying on their bellies in the warm, fragrant hay, watching the ewe.

"Watch carefully now," Edward told Agnes, as the ewe struggled to her feet. "The baby is going to come out any moment, right between the mother's legs there..."

"Like a poo?" Agnes asked.

Edward hesitated. On the one hand, Christine would probably have his hide if she knew what he had been teaching their daughter. On the other, he didn't want Agnes to grow up into one of those prissy missies that fainted at the mere mention of a perfectly normal bodily function, and in his opinion, three years and two months was definitely not too young an age to learn about reproduction. Luckily, he was spared having to answer Agnes's question, for at that moment, young Will burst into the barn. "My lord, the baby is coming!" he shouted.

"I know, we've been watching it," Edward replied, his eyes still fixed on the ewe.

"No, my lord, I mean—her ladyship—"

Edward bolted up. How had he forgotten again?! Christine would definitely have his hide for this. He picked Agnes up. "Make haste now, we have to go home!"

"But I wanna see the baby!" Agnes whined.

"Your baby brother or sister is coming. Don't you want to see him? Or her?" Edward asked as he swung the child onto his shoulders, sending her chestnut curls flying.

The mention of her younger sibling sent all thoughts of sheep and lambs from Agnes's mind. "Sister," she said with the conviction that only three-year-olds could have.

"Or brother."

"I wanna sister."

"All right, your sister then," Edward said, laughing. He put her into her seat on the gig and drove back to Hurstfield.

They were met in the front hall by Jane, who had come up from London for a visit on the occasion.

"How is she?" Edward asked, handing Agnes to his sister.

"She's well," replied Jane. "But she's asking for you."

As Edward ran out of the hall, he heard Agnes's piping voice behind him, saying, "Aunt Jane, I saw a sheep almost poo out a baby!"

Chuckling to himself, he took the stairs two at a time, then knocked on the door of his and Christine's bedroom. It was opened by Dr. Sinclair, wearing a look of blatant disapproval on his face. After Agnes's birth, Edward would have thought Sinclair had gotten used to his presence in the room by now, but clearly, the doctor's traditional mind still had a hard time accepting it. And he never missed an opportunity to make his displeasure known.

"Really, your lordship, I can't condone this..." he grumbled.

Christine, who was walking up and down in front of the windows with a hand on her back, looked up. "Doctor," she said lightly, "my husband has seen far more of me than you ever have, so why is it acceptable for you to be here and not him? I can assure you, he is not going to be in your way."

Ignoring the flustered physician, Edward grinned and stepped into the room to give his wife a quick kiss. Her face was slightly flushed, but otherwise, she looked unchanged.

"Did Agnes get to see the lamb?" she asked.

"Not yet. But she can watch lamb being born all the time. It's not every day when her mamma brings her a baby brother or sister, is it?"

She smiled at him, but her smile was quickly replaced by a gasp and a wince, and she clutched at his hand.

"You should lie down," Edward said. She shook her head, only squeezing his hand more tightly.

As Christine panted and heaved, Edward's heart constricted in time with her contractions. He had been in such a state of agony during Agnes's birth that he didn't remember much of it, only the excruciating fear and the subsequent blinding relief. Now, some of the fear had diminished with experience, but it only meant that he was all the more aware of his wife's pain and his own anxiety. He could only pray that this baby wouldn't take too long to arrive.

And it didn't. After several more circuits in front of the windows, Christine's knees buckled, and she finally agreed to get on the bed, though her hand never left Edward's. She had barely laid down when she suddenly arched her back and screamed. A moment later, there was a defiant wail, followed by the midwife's joyful shout, "Alive, alive! And a boy, too!"

Edward kneeled down by Christine's bedside. "Did you hear that, sweetheart? We have a son!"

Christine's eyes, already bright, brightened even more as she turned to him. Edward pressed her hand to his lips, kissing it again and again, laughing and crying, while she repeated in a soft voice, "A son..." and gave him an exhausted but dazzling smile.

Then her smile went out, as abruptly as the flame of a candle getting extinguished.

"Sweetheart? What's the matter?" Edward asked shakily, as Christine started breathing hard again, grimacing and squirming in his hand. "Doctor!" he called, his voice cracking. "Doctor! Something's wrong—"

Dr. Sinclair rushed over. "Your ladyship?" he said. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't—" Christine twisted her hand away from Edward's and gave a muffled scream.

Dr. Sinclair felt the rippling muscles on Christine's belly with expert fingers. He lifted his head, and a look passed between doctor and patient, a look whose meaning only they could understand. Edward felt an iron band tightening around his heart.

"What is it?!" he shouted.

Before the doctor could answer, Christine slipped her hand, hot and damp with sweat, into Edward's, which had gone cold with fear. There was that look in her eyes again, the look that had been branded into his mind on the last day of his trial, half apologetic, half triumphant. Perhaps there was a bit more triumph in it this time.

"I'm afraid we're going to need a bigger crib, my love," she said.

Edward stared at her, and looked up at Sinclair, not understanding.

"Twins, my lord," the doctor said, smiling. "I don't know how I missed it, but this is one instance in my professional career when I am more than happy to have been mistaken."

***

That night, with Christine nestled up next to him in bed while cradling the two troublesome bundles in her arms, Edward thought how lucky they were to have experienced such pure, radiant happiness, not just once or twice, but three times. It didn't seem possible.

The babies finally quieted down, and gently, gently, Edward lifted them from Christine and placed them in the crib, which did fit both of them, though only just. They had decided to name the boys Anthony and Osborne.

"Shall I go, so you can sleep?" he asked, as Christine's eyes, which were fixed on the crib, started fluttering drowsily.

"No." She grabbed his arm and pulled him back into bed. "Stay." She carefully shifted her body to lay her head on his chest, and Edward ran his fingers through her hair, remembering a night, four years ago, when he had also had her in his arms like this, in a much less comfortable bed, when he had thought he would never see her again, when he couldn't have imagined such bliss as this. His heart almost burst with gratitude and love.

"Aggie is disappointed," Christine said, bringing him back to the present.

"I don't blame her," Edward replied, smiling as he recalled the look of dismay on their daughter's face as she peered at her brothers over the edge of the crib. "It's like asking for plum pudding and getting not just one, but two herrings."

"Did you just compare our sons to herrings?" Christine asked in mock offense.

"Well, they're wrinkly and they stink. I'm sure I was a herring when I was born as well, before my looks improved."

"You're incorrigible, you really are," Christine said, chuckling, and she pulled Edward's face down to plant a soft kiss on his lips.

Edward kissed her back, then trailed his lips along her cheek to whisper into her ear, "Let's see about giving Aggie a sister as soon as we can, shall we?"

"What if it's another boy?"

"I'm sure she can handle three brothers just fine. She was conceived in prison, she's strong."

"Edward!!!"

"I know, I'm sorry, I've promised never to bring that up again." He took her hand. "She is strong though. Just like her mother."

"And her father."

Their lips met again, the warmth of their kiss like a reassurance, like a promise, and Edward knew that no matter what life brought, their love would be enough to withstand it.

THE END

A/N: I think I may have developed a cavity from writing this epilogue, but it felt good to finally give Edward and Christine the "happy ever after" they deserve. Thank you for reading!

#hellcheer #eddissy #hellcheersource #hellcheer fic #hellcheer au #regency au #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #eddie x chrissy #chrissy x eddie #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic

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