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valyrfia · 2 months

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Why do so many F1 fans hate on Charles Leclerc? I, myself, am an "old time" so to say fan of the sport and while I appreciate the generations past, there is no denying his astounding talent and connection to the car. And yet when I started to get back into watching recently, I have seen nothing but distasteful jabs at his ability and his fans, along the lines of "he's just a model" and "only girls in love with him like him". Why is that, I really do not understand - not even as a fan of his, I'm just asking as an objective observer of motorsport

Thanks for your ask anon! I think there's two facets of it. There's the fact that Charles has a lot of expectations that haven't been fulfilled yet due to a variety of reasons and media that may already be skewed away from him doubling down on that, and quite frankly, there's a misogyny aspect due to the composition of his fanbase.

Focusing on the expectations aspect first, as I'm sure you'll probably know better than I will since I've only been watching F1 for a year or so, Charles came into Ferrari with an incredible weight to him already. Not only did he totally crush competition in junior categories but he was the youngest Ferrari driver in the 21st century (later to be usurped by none other than Ollie Bearman at the 2024 Jeddah GP) and he had quite frankly an incredible first season. He would have won Bahrain 2019 if not for the engine issue and he won Monza. This understandably gave Charles's name a gravitas and expectation unlike any non-WDC. I mean, his nickname is literally il predestinato, there is an expectation that Charles will bring the championship home to Ferrari.

Now, unfortunately, that hasn't happened yet. This has been due to a multitude of reasons, but mainly Mattia Binotto's terrible management, the effects of it we're still feeling years later.

An aspect of Mattia's management that people discuss less however, but I'm certain contributes to some groups having a strong dislike of Charles, is Mattia's complete inability to manage a strong driver line up. Ferrari has had an incredible line up, with Charles and Seb for Charles's first two years, and Charles and Carlos for the next three. A lot of the general population who dislike Charles are Seb supporters, feeling as if Seb was pushed out by this young upstart who hasn't even managed to bring the WDC and WCC home as promised. This is entirely due to Mattia losing control of the narrative. DTS encouraged this viewpoint, but media doubled down on it. Mattia also failed to manage each driver's expectations.

Similar is Mattia's signing and then subsequent management of Carlos. My dislike of the Carlos camp is well-documented, but Carlos is by no means a bad driver, in fact I think he's probably in the top six drivers currently on the grid. The issue is, he's not Charles. He doesn't have Charles's raw talent, nor any sort of similar mythos that the tifosi revere about Charles. Carlos on paper, is an excellent n2 to Charles's n1, and I think if Mattia had been honest about that in signing Carlos, I would like him a lot more. Instead, Mattia promised that Charles and Carlos were to be treated as equals, resulting in bizarre strategy calls like Silverstone 2022 where they sacrifice the race of their driver fighting for the WDC in order to gift the other driver a win, or having a championship car in early 2022 only to undevelop it because Carlos complained that he wasn't comfortable. It's frankly bad management, when Checo wasn't comfortable with the RB19 Red Bull didn't change their development direction, because the focus was on getting Max the championship. Ferrari needed Mattia to make a similar decision in 2022, but he instead chose to try and pander to all sides instead of enforcing a potentially difficult decision like a team principal sometimes needs to.

I've said that Sainz media is responsible for much of the traditional media smear campaign against Charles, whether that's them using links with Spanish media, or paying off various outlets, and now I'm putting that down to Mattia not managing Carlos's expectations correctly a couple of years ago, and now relationships have broken down to a point that they're pretty much irreperable, even if Fred is managing everyone's expectations correctly. Mattia's bad management from the car development perspective gives Sainz media an angle to smear Charles as well. 2022 was Charles's championship to lose, and he lost quite badly. It becomes quite easy for journalists to take the line of "oh well, is Charles REALLY a generational talent or is he all hype?", and then compare Charles and Carlos in frankly incomparable situations to make it seem like, at first glance, Carlos comes out on top (key example of this would be Bahrain 2024, where Charles had an insane brake imbalance and still managed to finish p4, but Carlos's camp were quick to point out that Carlos's brakes had cooling issues, which if you know anything about the sport you know that's comparing a mouse to an elephant, but a lot of people chose to ran with Charles and Carlos having the same issue, resulting in people applauding Carlos for a podium in a car that's undergoing normal race stress and decrying Charles for managing to finish P4 in a car that should've been undriveable).

The second aspect moves away from traditional media and to word-of-mouth and online perspective of Charles, although often the first point about Charles not yet living up to his il predestinato name is sometimes used as evidence. Charles's fanbase is female (at least outside of the countries of Italy and Monaco), and disproportionately so compared to other driver fanbases. And look, sure he's a conventionally attractive guy, we're not going to deny objective facts. But those who dislike Charles like to use the fact that he has an active female fanbase, along with the fact that he's conventionally very attractive, in order to mock Charles and his hype. "Leclerc is mid and people only like him because he's hot and women don't understand wheel knowledge" seems to be the current argument of MANY a Charles hater.

Ultimately, it boils down to thinking that his fanbase don't truly understand the sport, because we're majority women and CAN'T be in the sport because we enjoy it we MUST just be here for the hot man. Which is both untrue and fundamentally misogynistic. While Charles himself can't experience misogyny as a man, his fanbase of women certainly can and certainly does. Our voices are trivialised and counted out, and that in turn has an impact on Charles's public image, since people think that a majority of his fans don't have any actual knowledge of the sport (when in my experience, this is perhaps the furthest from the truth).

#charles leclerc #formula 1 #asks #anon #charles public perception

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year

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Exactly as you are

Next chapter

a/n this has been sitting in my notes for a while and I was going to delete it but then was like you know what let's just post it. So here we are. 🙃

summary: when two broken souls meet something is bound to happen

warnings: mention of past trauma, sexual assault, forceful behavior, touch aversion, murder.

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You moved around the buzzing club swiftly. Picking up glasses and stopping to listen to new orders being barked at you by already half-drunk males. A light smile on your face, regardless of the tone that people used to order you around. No matter the tone or the words that left their mouths, this was so much better. So much better than what you had been forced to go through in the past. What you had known for so many years. What you had no hope of escaping. There was no hope until a cold stone face showed up in your owner's house.

It was a last-minute decision on Kaz's behalf. One look. It took him one look, and he knew he had to do something. Had to come up with something. Kaz couldn't seem to draw his eyes away from the chains around your hands and ankles as you carried up the tray with whiskey. Eyes empty. It seemed like you didn't even notice him or Jesper in the room as you walked in. Like a possessed creature. Calculated moves. No emotions. And then it was the way your whole body suddenly tensed when the old man moved his hand to run over the curve of your body as he pulled you closer to him. Your eyes darted up. They didn't meet Kaz. You looked past him. But right there and then, Kaz knew that he was going to walk out of this place with you, or he wasn't going to walk out at all. And since the second option didn't please him, he picked the first one.

Three bullets. One for each hand that the old fuck touched you with, and the other neatly placed right in between the eyes. You didn't flinch as the shots rang out. As if this had happened so many times already in your life that you, in a way, were waiting for it. Yet another abuser down in the dirt, with another one ready to claim you. There was not a single word exchanged between anyone afterward. Jesper understood his boss with one glance. Kaz's eyes spoke volumes. The anger seemed different than ever before. More primal. Lingering. In any other situation, Jesper would have said something or teased, but this felt different. Something felt different as he picked you up right as Kaz limped out of the building. Your hand clenched Jesper's shirt as he walked through the dark streets. Jesper, too, realized that something was about to change.

You didn't speak. No matter what any of the crows did, you didn't say a thing. Emotions were rear flashes on your face. At first, only the movement of your eyes scanning the place was a shred of evidence that you were indeed alive. Or it was Nina, who occasionally checked on your heartbeat before nodding to herself. You had no shackles bounding you here. For the first time in years, they weren't weighing on you, but the demons from the past lingered.

"Fill the last glass up, and others will replace you", your eyes darted up in an instant, yet you didn't even need to look to know who the voice belonged to. Nodding your head, you placed the last glass on the table before Wylan disappeared with the tray in his hands. Quickly wiping your hands onto the apron, you moved towards the backroom. Kaz's room. A place where no one was allowed in without a reason. But you were quite a frequent visitor there, and in no way were you complaining.

A glass of water and a warm meal was already waiting there for you, and you couldn't help but feel your heart beat a bit faster. You had heard stories about dirtyhands; you had seen his cunning ways in action. But never with you. Yes, cold and harsh at times. But that's how Kaz was, and you had grown to find comfort in his cold demeanor. Take comfort in the silence that lingered between you two as you sat together.

"I know you haven't eaten, and quite frankly, I am disappointed that you are wasting your potential by starving yourself", Kaz said without paying attention to you as he too sat by the table. You narrowed your eyes at him, shooting him a stare that he was quick to return, but you knew you weren't going to win this, so you stepped closer to the table. This was never a fight you could win. Not with Kaz at least.

In moments like this, you often thought about the first night at the slat and how different everything was now. Jasper had left you in Kaz's room shaking, promising to get the girls to help you bathe afterward. That it was okay, that Kaz just liked to be extra, and that soon it would be over and you could rest. You stood there, clenching your fists, until you heard footsteps from outside. The broken-up pattern lets you know in advance that it is indeed your new owner. Or you assumed that he was going to take full ownership of you just like everyone else had before.

Kaz had hardly stepped through the door when his eyes landed on your shaky hands undoing your skirt, with your top already on the floor. And if he wasn't in some way thankful for the cane before, he sure as hell was now as his eyes landed on your naked, scared body, chest exposed, and his knees seemed to buck. "What are you…", he managed to mutter before quickly turning his gaze to the side. Somehow your face had managed to get paler. "I can turn away if I'm not to your liking", those had been the first ten words that you had said, and they had plagued Kaz's mind ever since.

It wasn't about you or if he found you pretty or attractive. Of course, he did. You were the prettiest girl he had seen. It was the fact that you had assumed that he was just like all the other males. That he was going to use you just the same. That you were here to be the same rag doll. To be tossed around and asked to stay quiet while someone forced you to do things you didn't want to do, "Get dressed and just… sit", Kaz had muttered, leaving the room quickly, pressing his head to the door as he tried to get his breathing steady.

None of you talked about that night. It was never brought up, and in a way, it soothed you. It was strange to you how different Kaz's behavior was behind closed doors. When you sat on his bed with a book in your hands while he looked over new plans and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. When he ushered you into the back room and you would just sit in the chair in front of his desk. It brought you peace because you felt safe with him. It brought peace to Kaz because, for the first time in his life, he didn't feel alone.

Just like Kaz, you hated being touched. It was a different kind of discomfort and fear that laced your body, but still. Touch was something you both avoided. Something that held so much pain and past trauma. As sad as it was, it was something that made you both so much closer. That allowed you to communicate without having to say a word. Kaz finally knew that someone understood. That there was someone who knew how horrible it was to be afraid to the point where you felt like dying. Where there wasn't an ounce of self-control. And even if Kaz wished that he could have saved you from the pain like that, it gave him hope that he wasn't that alone after all.

"I've got something for you", Kaz said casually, while you were in the middle of your stew. You gave him a puzzled look, but he just opened the side drawer and pulled out a neatly wrapped box. It wasn't an unusual thing. Kaz almost always brought little things back for you. Mostly books or some random trinkets. "Don't give me that look", he warned you. Even if all Kaz wanted to do was look at your sparkling eyes. Oh, how he had grown to love seeing your face light up slightly. And just for him. Just because of something that he had done. Because they never sparked like that when you were with others. No, because he had watched you ever since he brought you here.

Pushing the box towards you, he waited for you to take it out of his hands. You blinked a couple of times. Usually, if Kaz was to give you something, he would just push it across the table, but that didn't seem to be the case tonight. You reached out, taking the box, careful not to touch him, waiting for Kaz to tell you what this was about, but he only motioned for you to get going.

So you moved the bowl with stew to the side and pulled on the delicate white ribbon. A breath hitched in your throat, and you quickly drew your eyes back to Kaz, who had a slightly smug smile on his face. "I thought it would suit you well", he said, and you bit the inside of your lip. You had been eyeing the silk hair scarfs for a while. Stumbled across the shop by accident while looking for supplies for Nina. And ever since that day, every time you went out into town, you always walked past it. Stopping to peek through the window. Admire from afar, but never let yourself walk inside. The finest silk was too expensive for you to allow yourself a purchase like that.

You quickly shook your head, right as that thought settled, pushing the box back towards Kaz. "Don't you dare", his tone carried a warning yet was calm. "It's a gift from me. I add bonus pay for the crows after a good job, and you had been working hard in the club, so it's just the same". But it wasn't. You knew it wasn't, and you just couldn't let yourself accept this. So you shook your head once more. Kaz's lips finned out into a tight line. "You are allowed to enjoy things", and when you lowered your eyes, he knew that he had hit the target.

You shied away from things like that. Kaz noticed how you cringed at the sight of fancy clothes. Nina had managed to squeeze you into one of the fancy dresses she enjoyed, and the look on your face was enough to let everyone know just how much you hated it. So Kaz never pushed you. Simple grays or blues, a dash of yellow if the day was good, but nothing fancy, nothing big. And if Kaz was being honest, you didn't need any of it to look breathtaking.

And he had gone out looking for you that first day you had seen the scarfs and had taken way too long for his liking to return home. Kaz saw you with your palm pressed to the glass, looking inside. Even more so, he knew what it was like to want something but not be able to get it, and it wasn't just the material things he was referring to. But you were under his care now. Not his as an object. But his to protect. To keep safe. To make happy.

Kaz watched as your fingers carefully moved to touch the delicate material. He could only imagine what was running through your mind. Too unworthy. Too dirty to enjoy something so delicate. Or maybe you didn't like what he picked. Kaz had only assumed you would like this. Although he had never really gone out and bought anyone anything, then your fingers moved to Kaz's gloved hand, running in the same careful way over his fingers. Not grasping it. Leaving him enough space to move away from your touch.

But he didn't. Kaz's hand did stiffen beneath your touch, but only for a moment, and then his eyes met yours. Slightly glassed over by the tears that had picked up. Eyes that saw him. Saw through him. So Kaz didn't back away, even when the water started to drown him. He turned his attention to your fingers and how carefully you grazed them over the leather of his glove.

"Thank you", the whisper was so quiet, yet Kaz heard it. And if you only knew how much it meant to him. How he had been craving to hear your voice again. But he swallowed the desire and happiness down. Nodded his head and pulled his hand away from under your touch, "Finish the food and go rest".

You quickly wiped the tears away with the back of your hand. Kaz wanted to reach for you again. But a part of him kept him frozen in his chair. Frozen and stuffed in the box of fear. But just now, Kaz could no longer determine if the fear was from the touch itself or if it was because he was afraid that touching you would mean something. That it would mean that he cared. And Kaz Brekker never cared.

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker #six of crows imagine #six of crows x reader #shadow and bone x reader

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twst-drabbles · 2 months

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Floyd 10

Summary: Sometimes when Crowley irritates you, you like to throw Floyd right at him.

(Really like the thought of slinging this eel around like a ferret.)

Ever since Crowley installed a number of automatic systems that basically did his chores for him, he's been coming over more and more often out of sheer boredom. He pops over in your house unannounced, hogs your television when you want to use it, and has even taken over a lot of your chores just as you were in the mood to do them.

And right now, he's watering your berry bushes like he didn't take the hose from your hand.

"Neglecting your berry bushes like this, how awful!" Crowley complained loudly like you weren't right there in your backyard, splashing your feet about with Floyd chasing after your toes. "But, because I am very kind, I shall do it for you at almost no cost!"

You pinched Floyd between your ankles and threw him to the end of the pond. He flailed and squealed as he went sailing.

You yelled back, "No Crowley, you're not watching your shows on my TV! And I'm not making you snacks!"

He has his own television! And you know he can make his own snacks! You've seen him on a cooking show once at 1 AM! He knows this stuff! He doesn't need you to do any of this. And besides, when he gets too into whatever drama he got himself into, he whoops and hollers just as you're about to enter the realm of sleep.

Seriously, you already have issues with sleeping at a consistent time and this bird-brained man is not making things better for you. You have things to do! Pets to take care of and entertain when their solo enrichment wasn't enough.

"Oh come on," Crowley scoffed in that way that never fails to irritates you. That specific scoff like you're some silly kid that's claiming things for themselves because they haven't digested the concept of sharing. "Don't tell me you have forgotten basic manners. You haven't been an adult for that long and already you don't want to show appreciation for all these things I'm doing for you."

"I don't need you to do shit for me, Old Crow," your whisper came out as a hiss.

Crowley was struck by nickname he probably thought was dead on your tongue. "Old-!"

"What I need from you," you smiled and dunked your entire arm into the pond. You grabbed Floyd just as he was about to nip at your calves. "Is for you to get a hobby!"

And like a rocket being launched, you threw Floyd directly to the back of Crowley's head. You may have thrown this eel one too many times. His posture was perfectly straight, arms sticking right out like he's one of those superheroes in a cartoon, and his face was perfectly pensive as though you're sending him off on a mission.

You didn't really mean for him to land perfectly on the back of Crowley's head. You just wanted Floyd to get, like, around his back but oh well. Too late now.

Floyd gripped his teeth and claws into Crowley's hair just as he tipped forward at the new weight.

"What in-" Then, Floyd slipped his tail under Crowley's collar, then whipped it around with no mercy! "Mmmah!"

"Ah, Floyd's slime wiping attack," you noted with a chuckle. You've been victim of that move a few times before. You're pretty sure it's not any sort of territory marking so much as he wants to gross people out. "I am not sorry."

Seriously, just because he's bored, Crowley thinks he can annoy you and not face any of your antics. If he wants to spend time with you so much, he should at least call or text ahead. Or go hang out with literally anyone else in this neighborhood. There's not a single person here that doesn't know him by name.

"Get him off!" Crowley sprinted right past you, trying to grab Floyd but his poor hands are covered in slime, "Get him off!"

"Hmm," you splashed around the pond some more. "Nah."

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst-drabbles #twst-drabbles exclusive #drabble #octavinelle #floyd #floyd leech #house pet au #reader insert

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mistle10 · 22 days

Text

Rating: sfw

Pairing: Vil Schoenheit X chubby gn! reader (leaning towards fem)

Genre: hurt/comfort (tough love)

TWs: semi-detailed descriptions of ED behaviors, weight loss, restrictive behaviors, and self image. Please keep this warning in mind for your own personal health ♡

Plot: Reader who wants to lose weight but cant opening up about your issues with EDs and weight to Vil.

Disclaimer: I've written this based on my personal experiences, and it's a bit self indulgent. My apologies. Not proofread, written in tumblr app.

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Vil grabbed your hand when you claimed you weren't beautiful. He stared into your eyes.

"Tell me. What exactly don't you like about yourself?"

You couldn't say your weight. You didn't want to get a lecture, you already had it in your head that he must hate it.

"I- I won't tell you." When you argued, he would cross his arms.

"Oh, you always say I know so much about beauty. Suddenly you don't trust my judgement anymore?"

He tsked at you. "And besides. I give you plenty of tips to accentuate your features and you choose not to take them."

But you don't like them. You don't want to accentuate them. His face softened.

"Y/N..." Vil sighed, taking your hand in his again. "You know I do find you very beautiful, right?" His manicured thumb stroked the back of your hand, and he pulled you close to him. You couldn't help but feel grossed out. Not at him, but yourself. It was a common feeling-- not believing anyone would ever touch you out of free will.

"Why exactly don't you like these things?" He asked, more determined now. "Have people mentioned them?" His eyebrows furrowed, as much as he hated making expressions like that. Vil knew self confidence wasn't something many people had. Even he didn't come by it naturally, at first. Most people had something they wished to change, and some people were able to; whether that be getting a nose job or using colored contacts. But most couldn't and had to make peace with it.

And the thing was, you had tried to change it. You had tried many times. Many unhealthy diets and undiagnosed eating disorders went unnoticed because you didn't "fit the criteria." Of course you didn't want to tell him. To many people, being overweight was a moral failing. Something like that should be so easily fixable, shouldn't it? Of course, it was firmly seeded within your mind that Vil would feel the same if not harsher should you complain.

"I don't know. Not really," you replied.

Vil huffed. "Really now, Y/N." He put a hand on his hip. "You know, I don't care about those things. I don't particularly love the fact you ask me for tips and then don't use them and still complain, but that's beside the matter..." He shook his head, free hand coming up to brush aside his bangs.

His hands landed on your shoulders, bringing you to sit down with him on his bed. You even felt self concious about how you sat. Vil reached up to hold your face, thumb on your chin and other fingers resting under your jaw. It was tough love, you knew that, but it was still difficult.

"What I care about is whether you believe you're beautiful or not." He hummed, crossing one leg over the other. "And I want to help you feel that way."

You still couldn't help but not believe him. Really? You'd seen him have a fit before because his lash glue wasn't sticking just right at 5:30 in the morning. You'd seen him outright grimace at unappealing patterns, go on rants about hideous microtrends... he, of all people, didn't care about physical flaws? No way.

You would've laughed if it didn't make you want to cry. Tears welled up in your eyes.

"I... I just-" you were at a loss for words. "Don't pretend as if it isn't obvious. It's the elephant in the room." The metaphor made you embarrassed, as if it were a comparison, "I've been trying to lose weight. I am. Nobody cares. I haven't even been going to the Cafe anymore. I've cut out carbs, sugars, fats before, I'm eating less than half my maintenance and- nothing!" You let the words spill out. And now that the dam broke, you couldn't stop the rest.

"And I know you probably think I'm lying, how could I possibly not lose weight, that's so easy right!?" You felt your face get red hot. "But it's not that easy. Doctors won't listen. Nobody listens!"

Vil was silent for a few moments, before a sigh left him. He crossed the opposite leg now.

"Really now."

Your heart dropped.

"The truth is that I have noticed your habits change. I've been on every diet from here to the pacific ocean, you know," he muttered, bringing your face up to look you in the eyes. He seemed annoyed about something.

"It's not something I'm oblivious to. I was going to tell you to knock it off sooner or later if you didn't tell me the reason. Seriously, less than half, you should know better."

After a heavy scowl finally disappeared, Vil sighed, his demeanor softening once again. "It's very easy to get sucked into these things." He shrugged, resting his face in his palm for a moment.

"I ought to give you a breakdown of why these things don't work, but I'm sure you've heard it all already," he hummed. He was trying very hard not to lecture you about crash dieting and you could tell. "But-" His brows furrowed, and he looked at you, expression serious. "This will not happen again, understand? You will be eating an adequate amount. There are no 'good' or 'bad' foods, and equating food to moral character when it's simply fuel is imprudent."

You were clearly ashamed. The lecture, as you expected.

"I've already killed my metabolism." You said quietly. "Nobody can help anymore."

He narrowed his eyes at you. You swallowed nervously.

"This is fixable. But-" you tried to look away, but he turned your face toward him again.

"Look at me, Y/N." He spoke sternly, a subtle yet protective bite to his tone. It was clear this hit something for him; after all, you were his partner. And if you were hurting yourself, that simply wasn't tolerable.

"But, unless you plan on breaking up with me, I can not allow you to keep on with these *ridiculous* diets. My love-" he took a breath, finally composing himself. He'd never had to be this harsh with you before, but he was... worried. "An eating disorder is an eating disorder. Size has nothing to do with it."

His arms came around you, pulling you close to him in a loving embrace-- and your emotions immediately began to well up. "I apologize for my reaction, but this is one thing I will remain obstinate about."

His lips met your cheek. His hand caressed your hair, long nails combing through and brushing against your head. Vil was affectionate, when he wished to be-- and that was usually behind closed doors like this.

"But you don't think I'm ugly?" You asked quietly.

"Of course not," Vil spoke. "You know, I don't surround myself with people who know nothing of fashion or beauty. Physical flaws-" he scoffed a little. "even using the word 'flaw' seems demeaning, but they are the one thing I don't comment on."

You looked at him. You remembered all the times you'd seen him obsess over the little details of his face in the mirror, and felt bad about yourself.

He seemed to notice this with the change in your expression. At this point, he really could read you like a book. He reached up to hold your face once more, violet eyes looking into yours.

"My qualms about my own appearance have no effect on how I feel about you. Why would I hold you to the same standard as myself?"

Vil sighed softly. "If you feel this way, won't you come to me?" He asked. "We can work on the things you don't like, within reason. I just don't want you to hurt yourself over looking thin. You know, when Azul-" he cut himself off, shaking his head, but that seemed to remind him of something.

"I know I've probably said things about my figure before, and I'm sorry if that hurt you. I happen to like the way you look now. You've come a long way, you know. The first time I saw you, you couldn't even do a cut crease." Though it was maybe a joke you thought, he seemed serious.

Finally, he came back around. Vil moved to sit closer, his lips meeting yours. Though it wasn't enough to transfer some of his lipstick as it sometimes was, you could feel the affection that he couldn't -or wouldnt- say.

He breathed out, a soft smile coming to his face now.

"How are you feeling? Better now?" He asked. "Why don't we stop and pick something up?" He asked. You knew he typically tried to avoid unhealthy foods, so he must be determined to get you to eat something if he was suggesting it. "And then I can do your nails again- you know you ought to stop biting them," he scolded, in the way he usually would. It indicated things were back to normal. He wouldn't baby you, but he would work with you.

Though it wasn't something he often said, he did love you.

#tw disordered thoughts #tw ed descussion #twst fanfic #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #i didnt proof read this

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happilyhertale · 1 year

Text

Long Lost Love - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader, Part 1

Summary: You are the daughter of Daemon and Rhaenyra. When the invitation to Aegon and Helaena's wedding came, your entire family rushes from Dragonstone to King's Landing to take part in the festivities. You haven't seen your family in King's Landing for 6 years so you are very excited...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: At the beginning none – eventually smut (uncle/niece)

Author’s note: Hello you!

This is my first fic so please be nice :) I thought I'd just try a little self-considered story. I hope you like it. The events are not entirely similar from the series

English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 2,3k

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7a, Part 7b, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

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You have waited a long time for this day. And now it was finally here. Your legs are wriggling and you are nervously fiddling with your dress as you look out of the carriage window and see the towers of the Red Keep approaching. Far too long you have been away. Six years have passed since the terrible events of Driftmark. After your parents took you and your siblings and brought you back to Dragonstone. "Y/N is everything all right? You're about to have the threads of the dress in your hands one by one if you keep this up."

Your father, Daemon Targaryen. Many fear him. Rightly so, you think. Countless times you hung on his every word as he told you how he went into battle and defeated his enemies. Or when he simply read you tales of dragons. You love him dearly, if you can put it that way, you are father's girl. And he treats you with the same warmth. He loves you with all his heart and to only a few people can Daemon Targaryen show affection or even love, but you are one of them. He would do and give anything to keep you safe. It would break his heart if he failed to protect you from the dangers of the world or simply if you did not feel loved.

It started with your birth. Your mother Rheanyra Targaryen was married to Laenor Velaryon. They already had a son together, your brother, Jacaerys Verlaryon. You love your brother very dearly. He's the kind of brother you always have fun with and who's there for you. As children, you played an incredible number of pranks and sometimes they went so far that the servants complained to your parents. When it got to the point where it seemed that Jace and you were not in control, they felt compelled to go to Daemon. They were sorry, because no one wanted to arouse the "wrath" of a dragon, but they had no other choice. If you were unlucky, Daemon would end up standing in front of you and giving you a telling off. But, what the servants didn't know, he could never keep it up for long when you looked at him with sad eyes and muttered "sorry daddy". You call him Daddy or Dad because you couldn't call him Daemon when you were a child. As a child, you wanted to call him Daemon, like all adults did. But all that came out of your mouth was "Dad". If you felt very close to him at certain moments or if you wished for something, it also became "Daddy". And to this day, you just call him Daddy. So the roles soon became clear, as soon as you were in trouble with Daemon, Jace would sent you ahead and let you call him daddy.

But when you were born, the shock was great. Your mother lay in labour on Dragonstone for over two days, even though a new life was to begin, it was a fight for life and death for Rhaenyra. Jace was already born on Dragonstone, as it was important for Rhaenyra to give birth to her children, heirs to the blood of Targaryen and the Iron Throne, on Dragonstone. Laenor was continuously by Rhaenyra's side and held her hand. Daemon was always close by to be there for your mother from a safe distance. Visibly nervous, he watched the birth. But when the maesters finally took you out and you took your first breaths in this world, your father got a fright that was quickly replaced by the feeling of joy and infinite love. As the maesters held you, your silver hair came out, your fair, porcelain skin seemed to reflect the incoming sun. Daemon knew at once, you were his daughter. When Rhaenyra finally held you in her arms, overjoyed, she simply smiled. She hugged you close to her and looked over at Daemon, who nodded lovingly at her. She looked down at you, stroking, your soft cheek as your eyes opened and Rhaenyra saw the most beautiful purple eyes she had ever seen. Laenor smiled and embraced Rhaenyra and you.

"She is the most beautiful girl in all the kingdom," gently he caressed your cheek, "What name shall she have?"

"Y/N Velaryon" says Rhaenyra with a loving smile on her lips. The understanding between Rhaenyra and Laenor was clear, everyone was allowed to have their lovers as long as the marital duties were fulfilled. Laenor was slow in fulfilling his marital duties, and so it came about from time to time that when Rhaenyra and Daemon met, they could not hold back their feelings for long.

The result of these actions was now you and that changed everything for Daemon. When he could finally hold you in his arms, it was over for him. He held you and you looked at him silently, this moment was so precious for him and he simply enjoyed this silence. When he tried to touch you, you reflexively grabbed his finger. His breath caught in his throat and he only had eyes for your small hand clutching his finger. He knew that he would not give you away.

That very evening Daemon went to Rhaenyra.

"I will take her to Viserys. I will tell him that she is my daughter and that he should confirm her legitimacy. She is no Velaryon, she is pure fire of the Targaryens."

Rhaenyra just stared at him at him. "You can't do that! Everyone would know I committed adultery! You can't, she must officially remain the daughter of Laenor."

Daemon began to smirk. "With all due love, but when you look at little Jace, do you really think anyone would think you hadn't committed adultery?"

"Daemon!", she looks at him in horror, "You can't go to my father and ask him to acknowledge my adultery and make her your daughter. No one in the entire realm has that right. Therefore, neither do you. Bastards of high Lords from all over the land would come and ask Viserys to recognize the legitimacy of these children."

"Rhaenyra, regardless of the love I have for you. But don't you ever dare call my daughter a bastard again. Viserys has the ability to recognize her and he will. I don't care about the rest of the realm. She is my daughter and she will be recognized as such."

"And what do you want to say to Laenor? Rub my adultery in his face publicly in front of the entire realm?"

"Oh come on! He lives just as happy a life, stuffed like a goose by his lover. Nothing is rubbed in his face, I have great respect for him, but I want the recognition that Y/N is my daughter. And besides, what are you trying to rub in my face by forbidding me to stand by my daughter in public?"

"He's right Rhaenyra." Suddenly Laenor stood in the room.

"Laenor...", she gasps as she turns towards the door.

"No he is right Rhaenyra. And you know that. She is his daughter. She has the Targaryen fire in her, the purple eyes, her soft white skin. He should have the chance to stand by his daughter publicly." Laenor simply nodded silently at Daemon.

So it came about that Daemon took you, his little dragon and Rhaenyra with him and they set off for King's Landing.

"We really need to sort this matter out urgently because…", King Viserys paused as he heard noises from outside. "There's a small council meeting going on right now, you can't just go in there. Prince Daemon…!" The guard tried to stop Daemon and grabbed him by the arm. With this movement, Daemon felt that the guard was getting too close to you. "If you don't get your arm out of my daughter's reach right now, I'll make sure you lose it altogether." And with that, the door opened and Viserys looked irritatedly at the entrance. Standing in the doorway was his brother, Daemon, with an infant in his arms. Right behind him stood his daughter, Rhaenyra. "Daemon, Rhaenyra? It's really good to see you, but as you can see, you're bursting right into a meeting of the small council."

"Viserys, brother, I have a very urgent matter to discuss with you." Viserys looked at him questioningly and hesitated briefly, "Daemon… please, go to the small hall, I will try to be with you as soon as possible." "Father… please, it is really urgent and we would be very much obliged if you could talk to us immediately"

And with these sentences Rhaenyra spoke for the first time for this recognition.

Rhaenyra was afraid. She wanted you to be recognised as Daemon's daughter, but at the same time she was worried about Jace. If you were legitimised, voices might be raised that if she had been unfaithful to Laenor before, she might have been so with her first child. And gods know what that was about. "Perhaps we can also postpone the last matter for today until tomorrow? It seems my brother and daughter have a big problem to discuss." Viserys spoke to his council, but could not take his eyes off the little bundle on Daemon's arm. The members of the small council nodded and then left the room.

Viserys looked helplessly into the faces of Daemon and Rhaenyra. "Can someone perhaps explain to me what is going on here?" Rhaenyra then took you from Daemon's arm and walked towards Viserys. She smiled warmly at him. "Father, this is your grandchild, Y/N. I gave birth to her, just about a week ago." Viserys was visibly moved. You were so small and delicate and had him wrapped around your finger immediately.

"Oh how delightful, this sweet little child. Hello my sweet darling." As Daemon stepped towards him, Viserys looked up. "As you can see, she is the pure flame of Targaryen blood. Her purple eyes, her porcelain-like skin, her shimmering silver hair." Viserys nodded silently, visibly pleased, he lowered his gaze to you again. "Brother, I want you to recognize her legitimacy." Viserys looked at him irritatingly, "Why should I recognize her legitimacy when she is obviously a Targaryen as well as my daughter's daughter?" "I am her father," Daemon said dryly. It seemed Viserys didn't quite understand at first. Or he didn't want to understand. A simple "How…?" left his lips. "Do you really want me to explain to you now how children are made, brother? Judging by Rhaenyra's three younger siblings, I'd say you're well aware of how it works." "Daemon!" Rhaenyra hissed.

"Oh thank you brother, but I can just about manage that. My question would rather be how it is that my daughter, who is married to Laenor Velaryon, manages to father a child with you"

"Father..," Rhaenyra said, but Daemon interrupted her.

"No, Rhaenyra, I want that legitimacy, I will talk," Daemon raised his hand slightly in her direction and then turned back to Viserys, "Viserys, brother, you know as well as I do that Laenor is neglecting his marital duties. I love Rhaenyra. Just as I loved her before she married Laenor, I still love her…" At these words Rhaenyra's heart warmed and she smiled. "…From that love, Y/N has now come forth. I love her, she is my daughter and I will not rest until she is officially recognized as that" "What..? ", Viserys looked irritatedly back and forth between Daemon and Rhaenyra, "Daemon, how do you imagine this? I just say she's your daughter and that's it? That's not possible."

"It is possible! You are the King! I ask you brother, and you know I don't ask often, but please, enable me to be a good father. Public, not behind any walls."

"I'm not quite sure… What does Laenor say about all this? Rhaenyra?" Rhaenyra stepped forward, now standing next to Daemon. She seemed hesitant, but was convinced she was doing the right thing, "It's definitely a complicated situation, father. But Laenor agrees. So am I. It's not easy and I'm afraid that in the process… Jace's lineage might be called into question, after all it would become official that I was unfaithful to Laenor at least once."

Daemon took Rhaenyra's hand in his and stroked it gently.

"But we agree, Daemon shouldn't be deprived of the opportunity to be a loving father. After all, we know he doesn't care for many people.”

Daemon smirked and looked at Viserys.

Viserys was torn, but finally said, "Okay. Daemon, I will. She will officially be your daughter. But I want you to always stand up for her, stand by her side and be a loving father."

"I stand here for nothing less. Thank you brother."

Viserys nodded and turned to Rhaenyra. "Have no fear. You are my daughter. The heir to the throne. Jace is my grandson and no one will question his lineage. I promise you that."

"Thank you Father", Rhaenyra smiled sweetly at him.

"And to you my little one, you are now officially a Targaryen. Y/N Targaryen."

Viserys kissed you lovingly on the forehead and handed you over to Daemon. When Daemon held you again, he looked at you. He smiled. The warm purple eyes that beamed at him warmed his heart. He kissed you gently on the forehead and murmured, "My little dragon." As Daemon and Rhaenyra left the room, they were happy. Rhaenyra had to wipe away a few tears, but she was happy.

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You look up into your father's face, "Naah I'm fine. I'm just excited. I mean, I haven't seen my uncles and aunt in years… Haven't heard from them… That's weird. We kind of grew up together and then all of a sudden it was just nothing. I'm excited to see how they've changed."

"How Aemond changed?", Daemon looks at you with a smirk.

You blush and look at your father in shock. "Dad! No!"

Daemon raises his eyebrows and looks at you, "Well, this "no" came a little quickly", he still smirks at you.

"Well I mean.. yeah we were close but we haven't talked since and I don't even know if he still likes me or what he's like now", and your hands were fiddling with your dress again. Your mother recognises your distress and encourages you by taking hold of your knee.

"Everything's fine, it's going to be nice. We'll spend the couple of weeks here, enjoying the festivities for Aegon and Helaena's wedding, and then we'll head back"

You smile at your mother. And then you look at your father and you say, "Also, I'm nervous because I wasn't allowed to fly here with Meraxes. Now I don't have any kind of adequate defense when you're bugging me with statements like that."

Daemon just chuckles and looks at you naggingly. Rhaenyra scowls at Daemon, but he simply takes her hand and kisses it. As you roll your eyes and look out the window, you realize you've arrived. Now you are full of nervousness. As the carriages come to a halt, a voice outside the carriage calls out "Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen…" And with that you step out of the carriage behind your parents and see your relatives.

And you just smile.

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rc1207 · 11 months

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I want to share my thoughts about Otto's and Alicent relationship, probably controversial because I haven't seen anything about them.

yes, he is ambitious, yes, he is an intriguer. yes, he even manipulated Alicent, but still, Otto loves her.

this is noticeable by the way he tries in every possible way to comfort her, hugging her tightly and soothing her. Otto is literally Alicent's only support besides her children, she herself says this in a conversation with Larys, complaining that if her father were with her, he would support her. at times when she feels lonely in the whole court, father is the first person she thinks about.

when she says that Otto used her as a pawn, Otto replies that he made her a queen. that is, he means that first of all he tried to improve her status and his family as a whole.

Rhys Ifans (Ottos actor) himself confirms this, saying that Otto cares about his daughter, but he doesn't always know how to express this love, instead preferring actions — a successful position in society. Otto believes that this is the best thing he can do for her, to give her absolute power and strength in all Seven Kingdoms.

when he was kicked out of the capital, he didn't lie to Alicent. think for yourself, wouldn't you have the thought that you are in danger when there is a person like DAEMON and RHAENYRA TARGARYEN around?

even if Rhaenyra had not tried to kill Alicent's kids, Daemon would have done it, and as we see in the last episode where he's not particularly eager to obey his wife, he would definitely have acted against her will. and the situation with the eye where Rhaenyra demanded the torture of the child, and then "Blood and cheese" only proves it. and people then think that Otto's words about the threat to the life of Alicent and her family were manipulation? he was only telling the truth. and thank god Alicent believed him. many of Otto's actions are driven by the idea that he is only seeking the best for his family, even though in the end it led them all to death. he's still terrible father tho... but anyways, I LOVE OUR GREEN GRANDPA.

#team green #anti daemon #anti team black #anti team black stans #pro team green #pro team green stans #otto hightower #alicent hightower #anti rhaenyra #team black dni idc about ur opinions #hotd

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kasagia · 5 months

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❄️️Warm my heart pt. 1❄️️

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/ The Darkling x fem! heartrender! reader Summary: December. Everyone in the Little and Grand Palaces is excited about the upcoming holidays. Only the Black General seems rather... depressed. Like every year when these holidays are coming closer. Maybe this year, since you've been promoted to his second-in-command, you can make the general's holidays a little more enjoyable? And you're not doing it because you're in love with him and you want to see him finally careless happy... not even a little bit. Nonsense from me: A spontaneous Christmas mini-series. We'll see how it develops... I hope you will like it 🩵🖤 P.S. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I don't know if there's any equivalent to our Christmas… let's just say there is and I'll try to find out to be sure😅 Word Count: 3k Taglist: @aoi-targaryen ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 2 ~•♤♤♤•~

"Oh saints, I'm freezing here." Fedyor complains as he walks next to you through the snowdrifts.

"Don't be such a grump." you say, adjusting your black fur coat that protects your neck from the cold wind. You look at the sky. The clouds were swirling above you, and the snow was still falling. In moments like these, you kind of wish you were Inferni.

"Grumpy? We had been walking around, searching for this stag, the whole day. I start to doubt if that tracker can find it."

"That tracker had seen it." Mal's voice is coming behind you. You turn to see him helping Alina walk through the snow. "It had to go somewhere to await the snowstorm."

"We should do the same." you tremble as you hear General's right behind you. You feel his warm body and beating heart before he stands next to you. "It's getting worse with each hour. We should go back to camp." he says, looking at Ivan.

"Yes, sir." Ivan who came with him nods to him and looks at the rest.

All of you are following him. You see Zoya and the general talking to him about something in the front. Mal and Alina whisper something quietly to each other. The tracker looks distrustfully at the three Grishas in front of him. You decide to stay with Fedyor a little after them.

"Lovers' quarrel?" you ask him as you see him trying to stay as far away from Ivan as he can. He also has not looked at him even once since you all got together after hours of searching Morozova's stag.

"You can say that. I want to go on holiday with my family and take him with me. He refused... well, it's putting it mildly."

"He needs time. I'm sure he will gladly come with you to meet your cousins and siblings." you defend him.

You know very well that Ivan wasn't necessarily eager to leave the Little Palace. He rarely saw his family. Like you, he didn't have many... people in his family who accepted him as Grisha. Fedyor was lucky to have someone to write letters to and visit during the holidays. Ivan was also more conservative; he did not engage in closer relationships with people, except for his fiancé.

Just like someone else you know...—you think, staring at the back of the general's head.

Snowflakes fall on his black kefta, making it even harder for you to take your eyes off him. You stopped counting the number of times you just wanted to go up to him, run your hand through his hair, hug him while simultaneously hiding in his black kefta, or kiss those temptingly soft lips that gave orders to thousands of soldiers.

The beating of his heart has become wonderful music for you to work with since you somehow became his second-in-command and started to spend more time with him in the war room.

It also worsened your crush on him… but it was a sacrifice you could bear for the sake of Ravek and Grishas.

"I hope so. I haven't seen them for a year. I wanted to finally introduce Ivan to them. Especially after our engagement." he sighs sadly, staring blankly at the footprints in front of you. You look at him sympathetically. As you notice snowflakes gathering on his shoulder, you think of an idea to make him laugh and maybe feel a little better.

You stand for a moment and bend down to your shoe, pretending to try to tie it. Fedyor stops and waits for you, his eyes patrolling the area and the forest surrounding you. You weren't that far from the capital, but some of Drüskelle's unit could always show up. You take advantage of his moment of inattention, form a snowball, and throw it at him.

You laugh quietly as the snowball hits his back. Fedyor gives you a surprised look before smirking and accepting the challenge. You silently throw snowballs at each other from behind, trying to stay silent enough so that no one notices what you two are doing.

At one point, you dodge a snowball thrown by Fedyor, causing it to hit Alina. The Sun Summoner turns towards you and lets out a small huff of laughter as he sees the two of you covered in snow. He nudges Mal with his elbow, and soon the four of you are left far behind the others, throwing snowballs at each other.

You laugh as you form teams against each other. You and Fedyor do quite well against them... at least until, instead of throwing a snowball at Mal's face, you manage to hit General Kirigan, who seems to have noticed your absence and come back to find you.

You all freeze, watching the snow fall from his face onto the kefta. Beside him, Zoya tries her best not to burst out laughing. Ivan, on the other hand, gives the four of you an irritated, disbelieving look.

"Ten minutes… we can't let you out of our sight for ten minutes," Kirigan says, wiping his face with a handkerchief and brushing away the remaining snow from his face.

"Our apologies, General." Fedyor says, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his face straight.

"Whose genius idea was it?" he asks, hiding his handkerchief and brushing off the excess snow from his black coat. To no avail, judging by the snow still falling on you. But that didn't change the fact that he was as intimidating as he was in any setting.

You see Alina take a breath to take the blame, but you cut her off before she could. "My, sir. I wanted to lighten the mood. I apologise; it won't happen again. We won't delay our return."

Your remorseful look and tone of voice make him relax. His stern gaze softens, and you can practically hear Fedyor teasing you about it.

"Just don't get left behind." he says and turns on his heel, leading you all again back to the camp.

Zoya stares at you, surprised at how smoothly you managed to pull off something like insulting the general of the Second Army by throwing a snowball at his face. However, she quickly comes back to her senses and tries to catch up with the general to talk to him about something. Ivan, on the other hand, just shakes his head and wordlessly follows the Black General like his shadow.

"Seriously? If it were me, he'd tear me apart just by looking at me," Mal grumbles to himself.

"Don't worry so much. He would do it to anyone. He has a soft spot only for Y/N. Well, and maybe Alina, since she is one-of-a-kind." Fedyor says quietly and pats him on the back. Alina snickers and takes Mal's arm as they both follow the trail of the three Grishas. You roll your eyes at your dear friend's words.

"Stop it. It's ridiculous. Don't even insinuate something like that. With Zoya and Alina in the picture, I mean nothing more to him than a soldier, his second-in-command. At best, a friend."

"Sure. The beating of his heart every time you look at him is an obvious clue that this is the case. Besides, you've seen yourslef. You are the only one who can hit him with a snowball and stay safe and sound. He didn't even raise his voice at you. The two of you are so damn obvious and so damn stubborn that even if you ended up in bed together, you both would consider it an accident."

"Oh, shut up." he laughs, hitting me on the arm with his.

"What? Why do you think he made you stop your training as a healer and decide for you to be a heartrender instead of making you a main healer? You would have stuck in an infirmary far away from him. That way, he sees you often, plus you have black embroidery on your kefta." he says and winks suggestively. You huff in amusement, shaking your head.

"You are ridiculous. We work together. That's all. There's nothing more between us. At best, it's camaraderie. Besides, he can have anyone."

"But he wants you. Do you think he gives flowers to everyone on Women's Day? Or does he buy birthday gifts? Does he even remember about someone's birthday?" you blush, you feel your cheeks turn the bloody color of your kefta and it's not because of the cold.

"I remember him wishing Ivan a happy birthday." you mutter under your breath.

"Because he was standing next to us when I gave this idiot a gift." he says, obviously still angry at his fiancé.

"Give it up. Him and I—it's not going to happen. He's a womanizer. Zoya is not his first mistress. And I am definitely not his type or league."

"Well, now that you've brought it up... little birdie told me that he cut off all non-Army relations with her. And guess when? When you became his second-in-command. And guess who he pushes away, despite the fact that she's desperately trying to get back into his bed?"

"It does not matter. He probably has his eyes on Alina and wants to make a good impression."

Fedyor groans in annoyance at your response. Before you know it, you're back at camp, with no trace of the rest of your companions. The man next to you sighs in frustration and runs a hand through his hair.

"If you keep fighting it for so long and denying it, which makes no sense by the way, then yes. He'll find someone else. Take the opportunity before you regret it. Christmas is coming! Maybe some miracle will happen that will make you both see that you have to end together, because only saints can make the two of you see things together, you stubborn donkeys." he says and leaves you alone, going saints know where.

You sigh, walking back to your tent. However, before you strip off the layers of clothes that protect you from heat loss, you notice that you have no firewood. You go back to the forest and collect twigs and small logs of wood that you can use to light a fire at night.

You go back to camp, dragging a small wood sled behind you. You think about Fedyor's words and whether they might actually turn out to be true. You blush as you remember the countless late nights spent in the war room talking to the general about plans, reports, new recruits, or just drinking his kvass with him and talking about anything and everything. It's true, you were close... but would you be willing to jump in and risk everything—your entire career and the life you created in the Little Palace—to try to be more to him than just one of his soldiers? Especially when he could have had a Sun Summoner?

Lost in your thoughts, you don't notice familiar, dark shadows starting to swirl behind you. You scream in shock, both from the feeling of someone suddenly pulling you into his chest and from the fact that the skin on your neck and face meets the icy snow.

General Kirigan's laughter, the familiar scent of his cologne, and the warmth emanating from him calm you enough to realise that you are not in the arms of anyone dangerous. Well... if a shadow summoner could be considered such. But the coolness of the snow he rubs into your face and neck effectively shakes you from thoughts of him as you try to fight back.

He chuckles and holds you tighter with one hand as you kick and struggle in his arms.

“A good soldier knows when to surrender, Y/N.” he whispers into your ear, clearly amused. His silky tone of voice was as mischievous as it was slightly defiant and dangerous. "Shouldn't you have enough honour to obediently endure the punishment of your general?"

"Punishment? What for?" you ask as you manage to wipe the snow off your face enough to keep it from sticking in your mouth as you speak.

"Do you think I would let your little stunt get away with it? I wonder if you can still throw so accurately with snow in your kefta…" he says, slowly scooping up more snow and guiding his hand with it under your coat.

"NO!" you scream, amused and scared at the same time.

You use your powers to stun him for a moment and pull yourself out of his arms. You don't get very far, though. His shadows chase after you, and he keeps you tightly against his chest again. You struggle with him so much that you both fall screaming into a large snowdrift.

You land on top of him, blushing furiously as you realise this. The snow around you cools you a little, and you start to feel the cold seep into your bones despite everything.

"Armistice?" you ask him, your hand full of snow ready to attack.

He chuckles, amused, which only makes your smile widen. You had rarely seen him so… carefree. Especially now that he was so focused on finding Morozova's stag.

"For now. I will still look for my revenge." you whine, dissatisfied.

"It was only one snowball, Aleksander. I wasn't even aiming at you!" you protest. You squeak, surprised, as he switches, so now he is on top of you. A dangerous smile played on his face as he looked at you with a mischievous spark in his dark eyes.

"You think so?" he asks with a cheeky smirk, the hand holding the snow coming dangerously close to the buttoms of your kefta under your coat.

"All right, you won! Please don't. I'm freezing."

He frowns when he hears that you are cold. He lets go of the snow and wipes his hand on his coat before touching your cheek. He sighs, feeling how cold you are. He stands up first and helps you up, still watching you carefully.

"Let's go back to the camp. I wouldn't want my second-in-command to get sick because she decided to play in the snow" he says, and you blush slightly.

He only makes you redder by taking your hands in his and breathing warm air on them. You see the nostalgia in his eyes, and you can't help but ask him a question.

"What is it?"

"It's just... it's been so long since I did it. The last person I threw snowballs with was my sister. It feels like... centuries ago." he whispers thoughtfully, not letting go of your hands.

Unconsciously, he starts drawing patterns on your hands with his thumbs. You see him going back to his memories. How his eyes darken with sadness, even hurt. You don't know what must have happened to make him so depressed, but you feel the inner need to fight off all his worries just to see his smile again—the gleam of joy in those dark, hypnotising eyes.

"Well… maybe you can do it again? After all, the holidays are coming. You'll definitely want to visit her. Or she you." you say, choosing your words carefully. He didn't talk much about his family. Even his name was a big secret. And from your information, as long as it was good, you were the only one who knew it.

"It's a little more complicated." he says it gruffly and pulls away from you. You curse yourself in your mind, not even knowing what you did wrong. "Neither of us sees anything... special about it."

"You don't have a family meeting? Never?"

"We're not close. I don't remember when was the last time we got together. Not to mention something as insignificant and trivial as all this exchange of gifts, celebrations and prayers to the saints." he replies, pulling your sled of wood as you both walk back to camp.

You can tell by the tone of his voice that he doesn't want to talk about it anymore, so you change the subject and ask about the next steps in his plan to capture the deer, and he perks up a little more.

Little does General Kirigan know that you're half-listening to him, thinking about something entirely else. The distant look in his dark eyes when he talks about his family—that hidden longing for something he pretends not to want—tells you one thing.

You will make sure he feels different this year. You will do everything to replace his clearly unpleasant memories with harshness from his loved ones, memories he doesn't want to share with something better.

"We'll discuss the details in my tent tonight. I hope you don't get sick. We don't have time for any delays. We have to finally catch that damn stag by the end of the year at the latest. Although our only tracker who saw it will keep hanging around the Summoner Sun instead of tracking, I don't see it well." he says, and anyone else would find his words harsh and irritated, but you've long since learned that his eyes are the true reflection of his feelings and emotions.

The one thing he couldn't control. He gives you the rope of the sled, and before he leaves you, he ties his scarf around your neck, mumbling something about how you don't know how to pack the most necessary things for the mission.

You go back to your tent and light a fire. After a while, a fabricator comes in and hands you black leather gloves without saying a word. He's gone before he can see you smiling and blushing, realising WHO told him to make them for you.

You shake your head, trying to get past Fedyor's teasing words from the hours ago. It's just a friendly gesture. Nothing more.

But this is the moment when you make your final decision.

You will see the general again, as happy and carefree as he was a few moments ago. So relaxed and calm as he deserves to be, at least in this time of year...

Even if, along the way, your stupid heart had to completely and hopelessly fail for a man you could never have.

Thank you! 🩵🖤🩵🖤

~•♤♤♤•~ Part 2 ~•♤♤♤•~

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eva-of-the-sea · 2 months

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Y'all ever notice that Fujiko receives a disproportionate amount of hate in the fandom? I'm sure it's something we've all seen, especially if you're a fan of her, but I don't really see it discussed.

I'm bringing it up now because for the past couple of months, I keep running into new fans that are very vocal about disliking her. And while I understand that everyone has their preferences, the reasons they give for why they hate her bother me the most:

"She's a bitch, she's so awful to the poor guys and especially to Lupin."

"She's a slut. She's constantly using her body to get what she wants."

"She betrays the gang so much it's annoying how she always does the same thing."

"It's the writers' fault for making her so unlikable."

While I partially understand one of these points, some of these other ones confuse me.

Fujiko is a character that looks out for herself. She goes into every heist with the thought of "what can I get out of this?" And despite this, she's been shown many times to care about all of the gang. Yes, even in part 2 where folks usually base their hatred of her off of. This is because she is a multifaceted character that isn't just driven by a single motivation.

"But Jigen and Goemon hate her!"

Do they? Because while they do get mad at her shenanigans, we also see them going out of their way to protect her and comfort her. Hell, Fujigoe is a common canon occurrence! Do you really think Goemon would be dating her if he didn't like her? Or that Jigen would be pushing her out of the way of bullets or shielding her with his body if he didn't care about her? Being mad or annoyed with someone's actions aren't the same as hatred. No one ever points out how they get mad at Lupin, and I'd argue that happens more often!

And on the point of her being a slut...where? I'm genuinely confused with this one. Fujiko does use her beauty and charms both to manipulate rich men into giving her treasure and to get out of dangerous situations. That's kind of the point of her being a femme fatale. But how often does she sleep with the people she manipulates? Most instances I can think of, she knocks them out when she gets that far. In fact, I would argue she doesn't seem to be that interested in having sex at all. Do they count her flirting as being slutty? If so, c'mon. And even if she did sleep with her targets, why would this be a bad thing? Are women characters not allowed to have sex? And again, how come Lupin doesn't get the third degree for HIS sluttiness. In fact, I see people joke about it and celebrate it if anything.

On the point of her betraying gang, yeah it is very one-note and does get old. You know what else is very one-note? Literally the actions of every other character in the show. I don't see people complaining about Zenigata chasing the gang getting old. Or about Lupin flirting with every woman he sees. Or about Jigen and Goemon using the same weapons in the same way to get out of every situation. Y'know, maybe this is just a repetitive show! And tbh, the writing lately has been shaken up. The modern series doesn't really have Fujiko betray the gang much anymore. She's either off doing her own thing or she's working with the gang as a member of the team. A lot of people complain about parts 4-6, but I think this is one of the elements it does right.

And finally, on the note of "poor Lupin", I think this one pisses me off the most lol. The fuck y'all mean "poor Lupin"?? I think fans either forget or don't realize that Lupin is a pretty smart guy. He knows Fujiko is most likely going to betray him if he does something for her, the bastard LIKES IT. This is foreplay for both of them. In case you haven't noticed yet, both of them are kind of freaks lol. There's a reason that most of the time, Jigen and Goemon are mad at HIM. Lupin is not a poor sweet baby that needs protection from Fujiko. He specifically loves the chase, the constant push and pull of their relationship. She's an exciting challenge for him, he's a stable home for her.

While I agree that Fujiko has not always been written great in the past, and I'm sure a lot of that was due to misogyny, I think fans need to reevaluate why they criticize her more harshly than the rest of the gang. There's a lot of things she's done that the fandom deems unforgivable, yet the boys have done some of the same stuff without so much as a slap on the wrist. Lupin constantly puts them all in unnecessary danger. Jigen has made some really unsavory comments about women. Goemon has betrayed the gang more than once. And I don't see nearly enough discussion about how Lupin really used to push himself on Fujiko, to the point of it being uncomfortable sometimes. Like damn I'd sell his ass out too😬.

I think it all boils down to Fujiko being a woman. And as a woman, she has to work harder to please the fans. If she's too nice, then she doesn't really have a personality or a reason for anyone to like her. If she's too selfish, she's a mean bitch and everyone should hate her. What if people saw her as a character first? Because no she's not a good person, but neither are the rest of the gang. Their morals are all on a sliding scale of what works best for the plot. But damn she's a great character. She stands out on her own and really makes you remember her. She's so much more than "the girl" character, and I'm so grateful for that. I hope more fans come to this conclusion too.

#lupin iii #lupin the third #fujiko mine #long post #can you feel my frustration? lol #finally decided to make it a post here because i got tired of being talked over and ignored in servers when i'd try to make my point

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alcorianight · 23 days

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I did not realize this got so long, so rambly word vomit under the cut

I do think more attention should be paid to the absolute horror Jason must have felt after coming out of the Lazarus pit like a foot taller and built like a damn fridge.

Like he died at 15, tiny, still small due to malnutrition and then the leading theory is that the Lazarus pit cures that and beefed him up. For one, that's gotta mess with his motor control a ton, especially when you consider that normal growth spurts cause a period of clumsiness (think jarring steps, toe stubbing, knocking your elbow on doorknobs or whatever), so a total body overhaul -Lazarus Edition™ - might be enough to keep him from even walking properly, let alone fight skillfully and gracefully.

Even if you say he got his coordination back from training or comic book science meant the pits didn't fuck that up, being small was probably a major part of his identity. Consider Jason before Bruce. He was tiny, but still resourceful and strong enough to jack tires. But being tiny was useful. Being tiny meant more hiding spaces were available. It meant he was unassuming. It meant people's eyes skipped over him. It meant avoiding attention. It meant safety.

And sure, Jason probably complained about being small when he was Robin. Probably even dreamed of being big as a street kid because being big meant having power, but being big on the streets meant being noticed and he knew that. It was something to dream about when he was older but not what he needed then.

I've also seen people headcanon that Jason is claustrophobic from the coffin, and I kinda vibe with that, and being bigger also screws with that because things feel so much bigger when you're small. If you think about it, elevators and the like probably felt a lot more spacious when you were a kid. So not only has his body been drastically changed without his consent (and I haven't really touched on that here, but also consider how it has to affect Jason Todd (who champions consent and autonomy and personal safety of the little guy) to have experienced nonconsensual body modification first hand like that) but it can actively cause him more mental distress.

And I think, coming out of the pit, the memory of his death still fresh in his mind, and stuck in the League of Assassins, maybe being small would have been comforting. He could still access all the same hiding places he would immediately clock. And while the image of a big man hiding somewhere clearly too small for him might be funny, it's also heart wrenching because he's lost so many safe places in a single moment.

Of course when Jason does go back to Gotham he's learned to use his new body and the fact that it makes him intimidating as hell, but I think there's another negative there as well. Because as Robin he comforted people. No Robin is ever soft but they are all almost definitely better at comforting victims than Batman (maybe not Damian, but he's a baby which is simultaneously more and less comforting) and a big part of that is because they're kids. Kids just aren't as intimidating as giant ass adults and I can imagine that this probably messed with Jason when he first got back to Gotham and tried to talk to the street kids or the working girls because those are groups of people who are going to be suspicious of men built like a goddamn fridge. He can't come up to them like he did as Robin, and I'm sure over time he's won their trust and they find him a symbol of safety, but the first few interactions have to hit hard because it feels like he doesn't belong in a place that's been his first home. That somehow he no longer fits right where he always did before.

I also can't imagine how disconcerting it must be to not recognize your reflection for like every part of yourself. Like, this one time I had makeup done for an event (not my idea) and it was so heavy that I didn't recognize myself and I felt so uncomfortable with that and that was just my face. My hair, my height, my build - all of that was still familiar, comfortable, but can you imagine being unable to recognize even that? And if he avoids mirrors to avoid seeing his reflection, he might not even be able to recognize himself in pictures and videos. (There's a fanfic with this idea and it definitely inspires this post because I honestly never considered this before and I thought it was so well written and such a good point that we don't pay enough attention to. You should totally check it out if you got this far.)

The last point I have for this post has to do with his relationship with Bruce. So typical timeline (I think) for Jason is he dies at 15, crawls out of his grave about 6 months later, is catatonic for 3 years, and then spends a year mentally present training with the League of Assassins on his world tour or whatever. I am fuzzy on the details here but basically from his birthday, Jason can't be older than 19-20 when he comes back to Gotham (I think 19 is the accepted age) but mentally he's 16 and for some fucking reason DC artists like to draw him like he's over 30. THIS IS A PROBLEM! Like this is an extremely fucked up 16 year old kid that should be trapped in a 19 year old's body but instead it's so much worse because (and I've seen someone describe him like this before) he's actually trapped inside the body of a 35 year old divorcee AND THAT IS NOT OKAY! Like even if we're gonna say that the Lazarus pit alters the body to peak physical health that would be like 22 or some shit. Past 30 is not a physical prime. You can be fit for sure at 30 but that doesn't change the fact that your ability to build muscle and heal and whatever else are probably better in your early to mid 20s and hey guess what that's still younger than Dick's accepted age (or maybe about the same (I have stayed up too late writing this to keep proper track of numbers)). But Jason looks older than Dick more often than not (the Gotham Knights game will never be forgiven for whatever the fuck happened to Jay's character design).

Okay sorry for the sidetrack, but Jason looking older is gonna fuck with Bruce because Bruce is gonna have a real hard time seeing his tiny, malnourished, never gonna top 5'4 Jaylad in this giant hulk of a figure, especially when the age is so off. Like imagine you have a kid who goes to college and does a ton of internships or research so you don't really see them for 4 years, you're still gonna expect your kid to look like they're 22-23. If they look like they're 35 you sure as hell are not gonna pinpoint that as your kid. So Bruce sees Jason and it makes sense that he doesn't think that's his kid BECAUSE THAT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE HIS KID! (I'm ignoring the moral differences in this post) So Bruce doesn't see a kid when he looks at Jason but Jason is mentally 16 and, despite everything he says to the contrary, he sees his dad when he looks at Bruce. Jason doesn't see an equal, someone who is just another adult. This is his dad, an authority figure in his life, someone whos opinions and words hold power over him whether he wants them to or not. But Bruce can't see that. Because Bruce doesn't see a kid. He doesn't see his son. He sees an equal and that's tragic because you're always supposed to be your parents' baby. Even when you're 50 with your own family and nearly adult kids, you're still gonna be your parents little baby. Because parents see their kids at all the ages they've ever been and it's the fact that Jason doesn't have someone who looks at him and sees him how he was when he was 2 and 7 and 10 and 13 and 15 when he still feels 16 that makes this so sad. Because no one's been his parent for long enough to really build that and Bruce can't see Robin!Jason in the Jason that came back.

Wow, uh, I'm really sorry to anyone who reads this. This really got away from me and it's super unorganized and I just kinda word vomitted all over this. This was just supposed to be about how his body was different. How did Bruce end up in this?

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generalkenobee · 7 months

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Ted Theodore Logan Headcannons

This story contains NSFW headcannons and SFW headcannons

• The first time he sees you literal heart eyes-

•I mean you guys don't even have to be dating for him to not talk to other girls

•he thinks that it's disrespectful to even look at other girls now that you've officially introduced yourself to him

•talks about you all the time, to Bill, his dad, even Deacon

• literally looks at you like you're a fallen angel

• attached at. The. Hip. He never leaves you alone

•he'll walk you to every single one of your classes

•shares everything with you! He brought some gum to school? he brought 3 pieces (you, him, and Bill)

•he let's you pick his outfits when you ask

•compliments!!!

•you guys share clothes. Not in the way where he gives you his coats. I mean he'll take your socks 😭

•genuinely loves listening to you talk, he'll sit there for hours just staring while you talk about how practice is going or rehearsal, or just your day? He's all for it and ready to hear about it

•matching outfits...

•so many photos of you in his room...all over his bookshelf, his desk, even in his drawers

•he truly thinks you're the most beautiful woman he's ever seen

•I think he's low-key self conscious about not being very smart or good at sports, he thinks you can do better

•kisses no matter what, you haven't brushed your teeth yet? No problem, chapped lips? Ted literally could not care less, you could spit in his mouth and he'd be happy

•takes any kind of affection he can get

•I just know he gives the best hugs ever

•Tells Bill ALL about you

•doesn't pay attention in any classes except for health because he wants to learn about menstruation because you're always complaining about your 'period' so he wanted to know what it was (he got a c+ in heath and you were insanely proud of him)

•your parents don't like him because he's 'stupid' and you could 'do better', so he sneaks into your room almost every night

•has cried to you about his dad and how pressured he feels before

-NSFW-

•ok so I know not a lot of people will argue but like, hasn't even thought about actually having sex till you guys get together

•so so so thankful when you give him any sort of pleasure

•honestly submissive

•will finger you for hours on end

•doesn't like public sex, he doesn't want to do anything that could result in you being uncomfortable or exposed because he wants to be the only person to see you like that

•loves when you pull his hair

•giving you pleasure gives him pleasure

•came in his pants one time while eating you out

•the first sexual experience you had together was in his bed with you jerking him off and he finished in under a minute

•eye contact!!!!

•the first time you ever came around his cock he went absolutely fucking farel

If you have any ideas about Ted please share because I have lots more to say!!💕

#x reader #ted logan x reader #ted logan x y/n #ted theodore logan #bill and teds excellent adventure #bill and teds bogus journey #ted logan #ted theodore logan smut #ted theodore logan x reader #keanu my beloved #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves smut #keanu reeves #i love keanu #generalkenobee

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zgvlt · 1 year

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each of your fingers like rays of the sun leona kingscholar x reader

summary: in which you like to hold and to be held by leona's hand, a lot (not like he's not in the same boat)

tags: gender neutral reader, sfw, fluff/romance, established relationship, 4k+ words, not beta read

author’s note (see end notes for more): The fourth fic to my five senses series

you can also read this on AO3

The day was concluding and yet the date was merely reaching its beginning, Leona rising with the setting sun.

He had slept the afternoon away, not having anything urgent to do, not when his calculations dictated he still had some absences left before it would become a real problem. As for his location, he had taken to sleeping in his room as opposed to his other favored locations—only a strategic choice, chosen based on the demands you had made of him earlier.

His choice was correct, as expected, for now there was no need to leave his room to find you and no need for you to do the same, not when you strolled into his room, as you have many times before (but not as of late, to his disdain). It was as though his becoming yours meant not only his heart but his room would become yours as well.

He would be a hypocrite to complain about such a thing, but he cared too little for becoming a good person now.

“Don’t make so much noise,” he complained half-heartedly, not bothering to pretend that he had not just woken up. He was sure you could tell anyway, your stifled laughter as you watched him yawn, your own attempts at scritching the back of his neck and ears. With his good mood, he supposed he would allow it.

“Looks like you’ve already set it up,” you said, glancing at his desk, the table turned to face his bed, and with misfortune you took to sitting on the chair than with him on the bed. “Should I play white or black?”

“White is already facing you,” and for a few other reasons he would rather not tell you, things you really had no need to know, “so you should just play that.”

“Okay,” and although you haven't started the game yet, your fingers hover over the chessmen, stopping over a particular pawn that Leona thinks you intend to move first.

“I’m surprised you even want to play chess,” Leona said, finally sitting up properly to face his side of the board, “I didn’t think you knew how to play… Do you know how to play?”

It’s nothing against you; he would have accepted your offer to play with him even if you didn’t, but it surprises him (pleasantly) that you might. Sure, he’s seen you watch him go against his dorm members, but other than that he wasn’t really sure if it was because you were interested in the game or if it was because you were interested in him.

“I watched a bunch of videos!” you said, defending yourself, “I’m not going to be a grandmaster anytime soon, but I know what the chess pieces and pawns are and what they do and, you know, enough basics to play.”

Leona grins at the distinction. Look at you, doing your research—you might actually stand a chance against him.

“Then I don’t have to go easy on you,” he replied, before adding a little lie, “not that I had any intention of doing so in the first place.”

Your opening move is standard. You don’t do something stupid or overly advanced by moving the pawns at the edges of the row, even though he would have liked to see a strategy involving either or. You go for a popular but beginner-friendly opening: the Queen’s Pawn to d4. It’s aggressive in a sense, a way to dissuade him from moving the king’s or queen’s pawn for his opening… or perhaps you wanted him to take the risk.

He looked up to meet your eyes, and he didn’t have to look any further down to know that you were smiling.

Cute, but it’s really too bad that he has no intentions of falling for your bait.

“Knight to your f6,” he mumbled, more for you to hear than himself. Leona’s not particularly chatty when playing, most people don’t have the capacity to do so when they’re too busy thinking five moves ahead, but he doesn’t want you to be too tense. If you wanted to talk about, well, anything really, you should do it. This was a date after all, impromptu it may be, not a competition.

“I wanted you to move–”

“Yeah, and that’s exactly why I didn’t move there,” Leona said with a drawl, watching the tips of your fingers touch each and every pawn, clearly contemplating what to move next. Usually you had to move whichever piece or pawn you touched first and with anyone else he might have used the rule to his advantage, but he instead waits for you to decide patiently.

If the consequence was having a game run slower than normal, was it really a consequence at all if it meant you stuck around a little longer?

“Pawn to… c4?”

“You don’t have to say it out loud,” Leona informed you, “but that’s a good move.”

Because it was a good move—probably your original plan anyway, if he had made the move you wanted him to. Regardless, you were able to strengthen your control of the center.

You smile at the praise and Leona tries not to smile back, distracting himself by moving a pawn to g6, right beside the knight.

Your next few moves don’t matter too much in the grand scheme of things—all he needs is to fianchetto his bishop, something you can’t really stop no matter what you do—but he does think it’s amusing that you end up mirroring his moves, clearly unsure of how to move when he’s too focused on defending than attacking you at the moment.

With two squares cleared out, he moves the rook and the king.

“I don’t think you’d cheat in chess, so what even was that?” you asked.

“Huh. Looks like you haven’t made it to the video about castling yet,” Leona quipped, but before you could complain he stood up, making his way to stand behind you. He doesn’t think he makes for a very good teacher, more of an instructor than anything, but he’ll try… only because you’re expecting him to, clearly wanting to replicate whatever it was he did.

“I’m sure you know that the most important piece in the game is the king.” With his index, he pointed to White’s king, and with his remaining fingers, he temporarily set aside the bishop to its right. “I’m sure you saw how I purposefully cleared these two squares—it’s because you need this particular rook for this.”

Without talking about it, the both of you quickly look around, not bothering to hide your sighs of relief when a chess piece named man fails to appear before your eyes.

“Because the king is the most important piece, it has to be well protected, defended. That’s where the rook comes in—a rook is basically a castle, which is what the move is called, so the king is pretty much hiding behind a bunch of walls to defend itself.

“When you make sure the king is defended throughout the game, the less chances of it falling into any traps or getting cornered… or you’ll at least have other pieces in convenient positions to attack if needed.”

“Castle to protect the king,” you muttered to yourself, sliding the two pieces together, “like this?”

“No.” Placing a hand over yours—the hand holding onto your king—he nudges the rook out of the way, effectively swapping their positions. “Like this. They don’t just move to the right and left, they have to swap as well.”

Leona hadn’t thought much of his clasping your hand—he’s not shy with giving you the physical attention you want—but your words thereafter do affect him, a fluster that takes him a little longer than usual to push down.

“I get it now! Thanks to you, my king definitely won’t fall too fast now,” and then, for extra measure, you let out a laugh. It’s hyena-like and Leona wonders if he’s left you alone with Ruggie one too many times, if his assistant’s been telling you one too many things.

He lets go of your hand with a click of his tongue, returning your pieces to their old positions. Here he is, teaching you how to play better so you could increase your chances of winning against him, but here you are making a joke out of him.

Still, he huffs in amusement when you move the bishop, then the rook, and then the pads of your fingers meet the king once again.

Sometimes Leona thinks he indulges you a bit too much—well, it’s less think and more know, but since he can’t be any more self-aware than he already is, he mostly just lets you do as you please.

That was how it was before you started dating, after all—him hardly reciprocating your actions, teasing retorts at most as his heart banged against his chest and hurt his ears. You and all your neon signs pointing that yes, you were attracted to him, and him finally having enough of you embarrassing yourself (and him), leading to him deciding that if you were going to keep that up without saying anything, then you wouldn’t have any objections if he asked you out himself. He remembers more than just your happiness—he remembers the pride you could barely contain at having him do the asking, as if it was an achievement.

Still, you can’t just expect to get away with everything. You should’ve recognized the inevitability of him biting back; he would argue that you preferred when he did. It wasn’t just that you thought it was fun when he did do so, the lazy lion getting up to do something, but more so you liked the idea that he could actually take initiative to do something for himself as opposed to simply having it handed to him.

These days, it’s you making yourself into his personal alarm clock.

Leona’s quit skipping every class he could. He’s not against graduating, believe it or not, and it definitely helps that he genuinely wants to see the Afterglow Savannah improve and that taking up an internship is a prime opportunity to start getting work done. It also helps that he has someone (sometwo if you count Ruggie, but he’s not very effective so he chooses not to) constantly pushing him to attend his classes.

Still, he’d prefer to not go to each and every one. Some classes, in his opinion, are just downright repetitive, if not pointless, things he already knows being taught to him again. Skipping those seemed valid to him, but it seemed it was not to you.

“Come on, kitty,” you kept his hand in a tight grip, dragging him along the hallway. It was empty considering everybody was already in class, and while it would have embarrassed most people, Leona was just glad nobody would be present to eavesdrop. “You’re late to class.”

“We’re late to class,” Leona countered, “did you forget that you have class, too? On an entirely different building?”

“Okay, whose fault is that?” you huffed, “You’re the one who kept me asleep!”

“But you were sleeping so soundly, weren’t you? What kind of guy would I be if I were to wake my partner up?”

“You would be a gentleman who saved my attendance record, that’s what. Professor Crewel is gonna kill me one of these days,” you muttered to yourself, “or Professor Trein, or maybe even the headmaster himself.”

“You’re exaggerating,” he said with a shred of a laugh, “it’s not like they don’t know I’m to blame.”

You stopped in your tracks to look at him.

“No way is our relationship so widespread that the faculty knows about it.”

“Even my family knows, so obviously the faculty does, too. Just because they’re adults doesn’t mean they’re above gossiping,” Leona said, grumbling as though sorely disappointed with the older generation, “not even Trein. He’s a history professor, which means he’s just better at separating fact from fiction.”

“And the facts are?”

Leona snorted, lifting your enclosed hands and waving them around. “The facts are clear as day. I wouldn’t just be allowing you to hold my hand willy-nilly like this if there wasn’t anything between us, much less allow myself to be dragged to class like this when I could be taking a perfectly good nap.”

“Go take a nap in class, then,” you retorted, “the important thing is that you attend, not that you pay attention.”

“Huh, wonder who taught you to be such a bad influence?” he asked, trailing off the end of his rhetorical question with yawn. “Well, if you’re gonna be a bad influence, what’s stopping you from going all the way with it?”

“What are you planning?”

“I was just thinking that I felt bad for always making you late to your classes,” he drawled. His classroom was a few steps away, but with you having relinquished most of the pressure on his hand, he decided it was his turn to take control of which path to take; that path was away from the main building and heading towards one of his favorite areas on campus—the botanical gardens. “Not only should I bring you there, but I should apologize to Professor Crewel for taking up so much of a precious student’s time.”

“Do you have a death wish? My classmates will never let me hear the end of it!” you whined, “If you want to sleep in the greenhouse, you should have just said so. Don’t drag me into it.”

You could protest a little more if you wanted, make him stop his tracks and leave you to walk back on your own, but you simply complained about how unfair he was being. Leona thinks it has to do with his hands—well, hand—still intertwined with yours, the fact that he’s the one doing the holding this time around. Perhaps you’re letting it happen so you can spend a little more time with him. He’s the same, after all, the reason he’s awake and doing this much.

“Then let’s take a nap in the greenhouse next time. That way, you’ll be able to wake up for your class in time. You’ll even have the professor serve as your alarm clock,” he chuckled, even as you threatened to leave him behind. He knows you won’t, because your grip is just as tight despite it, only loosening—with hesitance, a fact that makes his heart swell just the smallest bit—when no more detours can be done.

“I’ll see you later.”

Leona shook his head.

“No, I’ll pick you up.”

Leona’s never seen himself as a particularly domestic partner, but you smile at him and he thinks he might have to do this walking you to class thing more often. He can lose a few minutes of sleep for that.

III

“I learned something recently,” you began, “about palm reading, and finger lengths, and all of that. From Cater.”

“Yeah?” Leona asked, indulging you. “Show me.”

He knew where this was going, having recognized a pattern in your behavior as of late. He was not opposed to it—he’s an enabler of most of your antics, admittedly—but he does want to see what kind of tactic you’d initiate this time.

“Apparently our hands hold meanings too.” He’s still resting his head on your lap without any intention of leaving, but he adjusted his arms so you could take hold of his hands more easily. “I don’t know if I believe it entirely, but considering we use them so often throughout our life, I guess it makes sense… Also, it just seemed fun to learn about.”

One of your fingers went to trace the sides of his, moving along the tips and gaps in between. “For example, if your index finger is longer than your ring finger, you’re probably a confident, natural leader. Someone calculative and analytical. A risk taker, someone who prefers others to take the initiative but happily takes the spoils, and–”

“Are you sure you talked to Cater and you’re not just making this up?” he accused half-heartedly, “Maybe you’re cherry-picking things you’ll think suit me.”

“–and someone who likes their solitude, dislikes it when their time alone is disturbed.”

“Never mind. It doesn’t fit me after all,” claimed Leona, “I allow you to interrupt my alone time all the time.”

“Hello? Like you don’t enjoy my presence. I’m joining it, not interrupting it,” you argued back, “in any case, let’s say the ring is the longer one of the two.”

Your finger stilled against the aforementioned finger, before tracing an imaginary ring around the digit.

“It’s said that people with longer ring fingers are seen as more… ugh,” you sighed, as though reluctant to admit something, “ , they’re more attractive.”

“Oh?” He grinned, looking away from your hands to stare right at your face. You wouldn’t look at him properly, so he tugged at your fingers to catch your attention. “So I’m attractive? More attractive than most people you’ve seen?”

“Charming too, clearly,” you sighed as you rolled your eyes, though Leona noticed that it was not exactly a no, “which is another trait of people with longer ring fingers… I guess both descriptions work out for you, so it doesn’t actually matter which one has a few extra centimeters.”

“What about the palm lines then?” he asked, “Fortune telling isn’t really my style, the idea of placing all my bets on some kind of fate ain’t really all that appealing to me, but I’ll hear you out.”

“Oh, um…” You grasp a hand, and then two, and just… stare at them, following the lines with your fingertips. “I already forgot.”

“Heh, you forgot? Really, if you wanted to hold my hand that bad you could just ask, it’s not like I’d ever say no to you,” Leona teased, baring his teeth as he grinned. “Have I ever said no to you?”

“No?” you answered, “I mean, that’s not why…! Okay, I really did want to try reading your palms, but Cater and I only talked for maybe twenty minutes max? I only remember, like, the heart line.”

“Then read that. What’s the issue?”

You went silent, suddenly shutting your mouth. If it was anyone else, Leona would have thought they were embarrassed—it was something to do with romance after all and, well, that was a topic that flustered many. However, because it was you, it was difficult to say it was because you would feel embarrassment—you do lots of embarrassing things around him, after all. The truth behind your hesitation was…

“Well,” you began, fingers pointing to the long line stretched across his hand, “this is your love line. Based on the length, it would mean… Leona?”

You trailed off as Leona shut his palm, trapping your finger within the warmth of his hand.

“I don’t need to hear it after all. I already know the answer, anyway.”

Leona thinks (knows) he spoils you, but he thinks you spoil him just as much, to the point that he finds himself wondering if his existence is enough to warrant such treatment. After all, days like today he knows he hasn’t done anything particularly nice or special, and yet it feels as though he has with the way you hold onto him (or the way he allows himself to be held instead of holding).

“Give me your hand.” These days you don’t ask (though you still play tricks to retrieve your treat). What you do more often is demand, demand in the way royals like him do, because you know you can do so with him by your side, with him.

“Going to read my palms again?” he joked, already handing his hands over as an offering.

“Maybe some other time,” you said, “I was just thinking… your hands are kind of rough, aren’t they?”

“If I were a typical prince, I would’ve been offended,” he commented. Sure, he kept himself groomed—he’s still a part of a royal family, lowly a member as he is, so personality aside he’d rather not have people point out anything off with his looks too—but things such as keeping his hands moisturized just weren’t in his list of priorities.

“I don’t mind it like this.” He hadn’t asked, but he did wonder. Perhaps you knew that. “I wouldn’t have minded one way or the other, but I do like the roughness. It… suits you, I guess?”

Leona laughed, “Because I’m not a gentle person, huh?”

“Because it shows me that you’re someone who’s always worked hard,” you explained, “no matter what anyone says, I think this much is proof that the person you are now isn’t just because you were lucky to be born like that. Lazy and effort-averse as you may be at times, things like this prove that you, too, worked hard to achieve the strength and intelligence you have.”

He really doesn’t think he’s done anything to deserve the way you treat him, and it’s on days like today that he remembers what he loves most about you. It’s not just that you’re fun, that you’re amusing, that you’re cute—it’s because you are one of the few who can see past his pride and his arrogance, his imperious attitude; it’s because you care for him so easily in the ways he finds himself too prideful to imitate, fumbling the words spoken by his heart.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, terribly enamored of the way you bring your lips up to the knuckles of his fist. Those hands are not clean, have been used in fights for better or for worse, hands capable of destruction with some few choice chants, yet you kiss them as though they were innocent. “Seriously.”

“Of course, my prince.” You laughed even as his fingers stretched to cover your mouth, and like the sun peeking from the clouds your grin remained present and bright.

“Just two moves…” you muttered to yourself, “I can’t believe I fell for that! Or, you know, did that, since it was my fault. I literally read about this pattern on some chess website.”

“That’s what you get for experimenting without care,” Leona said, shaking his head as he returned the pawns and queen back to their positions. “Never thought I’d see someone use f3 as a first move, easily the worst opening you could do, followed by g4 which is the worst follow-up you could do. Guess there’s really a first time for everything—I finally got to play a Fool’s Mate against someone for once.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m glad you had your fun,” you grumbled. Malice wasn’t present, but he could tell you did want to win at least one match this time around. Maybe he would help out with that, though not without seeing what you could do, first.

“Then try some other opening or pattern,” he told you, “looks like you actually know more this time around.”

“Of course I did. I didn’t want to look foo–okay, never mind.” You grabbed hold of a pawn, twirling it around between your fingers. “Let’s go again.”

“Think you’re going to win this time?” he asked. It had come off as a tease, a way to rile you up, but the reality was that he was genuinely curious if you had a strategy you wanted to try and pull off.

“Maybe. Just indulge me this time, okay?”

Then you move the pawn in front of the king two squares forward. King’s Pawn Opening. Not bad, especially since you could control the center if you choose your moves right. It’s the next move, however, the one you pull right after he mirrored yours, that caused your plan to immediately click in his brain.

“Bishop to c4. You think you’re funny, do you?”

“Are you going to go along with it?

“I’ll show you.” Which, for Leona, was another way of saying of course. You were you, and with a message so charming, who was he to deny you, the both of you, of fun? “Knight to c6. Truly a first time for everything—never would I have thought I’d lose a game on purpose.”

“Queen to h5.”

“Knight to f6.”

“Queen to f7.” You grinned gleefully. He supposed losing was worth it after all. “Scholar’s mate.”

end notes | masterlist of all my works | series masterlist my other leona fics [ 1 ] [ 2 ]

[1] Title. The title can be in both Leona and the reader's perspective. If you liken Leona to the sun, then wouldn’t his fingers be the rays of warmth? And for Leona, since he comes from Afterglow Savannah, I think it means a lot for him to compare the reader to the sun, and though he’s already used to the warmth, he finds himself craving the one coming from the reader.

[2] Pieces vs Pawns. Many people do use “pieces” (or some other term in their respective language) as a catch-all term, but really pawns and pieces are different, with chessmen being the appropriate term for both pawns and pieces (in English, from my sourcs). Since reader makes the distinction, it shows Leona that they made the effort to research his favorite game. He would have appreciated the gesture of playing with him nonetheless, but that was a plus to him.

[3] Opening moves. Reader wanted to do the Queen’s Gambit, since it’s a popular and well-known opening. It’s also a move with a monarch in the title. Chosen not necessarily to represent the reader (see a different note for that), but you could see it that way if you want. They could not push through because Leona saw through them. Anyway, Queen’s gambit is White to d4, and afterwards c4, and while they did that they couldn’t complete a gambit because Leona went to move the knight instead of trying to control the center immediately.

[4] Leona’s opening move is called King’s Indian Defense, a response against the Queen’s gambit… and my personal favorite opening when I had the misfortune of playing Black (a.k.a. going second) in matches. Also chosen for the monarch in the move name. When White goes d4, the knight (horse) goes f6. At White’s c4, pawn moves to g6.

[5] Yes most of these notes will be about chess I’m sorry! Okay so a few other choices I made in writing the chess scenes. Reader, both times, plays white (goes first), for a multitude of reasons—Leona putting them first, them being the light of his life, Leona wanting to give them the advantage, all of that. Leona goes second because, yeah… the second-born, second-place thing, but also he willingly chooses it for the challenge, because it makes it more fun for him, and because he enjoys just watching you go first and reacting to the things you do. It’s less of Leona going easy on you and more of him trying to see what you know and how well you can predict moves so he can teach you appropriately later on.

[6] Castling. As Leona explained, Castling is a move in chess specifically to protect the king. Also slight humpty dumpty reference. It was believed that he was based on a king (and he’s commonly depicted as an egg-king in media), and when he sat on the wall he had a great fall… so basically whatever “castling” Leona did against reader was a failure because he fell for the reader, lol.

[7] I actually don’t know what finger is longer for Leona.

[8] Ending moves. Scholar’s mate was chosen… For obvious reasons. He lets the reader win because he thinks it's cute that they chose that move from their “research” HAHAHA.

#twst x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar #twst #twisted wonderland #nathya twst writing #twst leona x reader #twst imgines

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lutawolf · 8 months

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My Personal Weatherman and the D/s element Ep 2

I got my regular inbox from @notfreetoday I adore you. Thank you for always taking the time to explain things and cheer me on. So let's start this post off with some info from them. Also, if you haven't read ep 1 first, that can be found here.

"Oh oh @LutaWolf 💜 you might want to know - about the whole dryer/only 1 bedsheet thing - The author of the original manga clarified through a tweet that the line "it's been 3 years since then" that was posted in Ep 1 actually meant it's been 3 years since the convo they had in the library - at this point in the story they've only been living together for a few months. Hahaha, too many people were confused by how they've been supposedly together for 3 years but seem relatively new to each other"

For further elaborations from notfreetoday check out their post here.

Poor Yoh, he's already missing the D. Bless him. I personally feel this is a valid response to a lack of sex. I would likely have skipped making the cute doll and gone straight to the priest. But that's just me.

As soon as Segasaki enters the house, he's looking for Yoh. When he looks around and notices a dark home, he goes right to his room. Yoh is concerned because he thinks this must be due to Segasaki wanting food, but Segasaki immediately corrects this.

There is a lot going on. First, Segasaki knows something is wrong with Yoh. Okay so, it's been three years since the conversation but a few months of living together. Yet Segasaki already seems to catch on to things concerning Yoh, which I would expect from a Dom but not this fast. It makes me wonder how long Segasaki actually had been watching Yoh prior to even approaching him with the deal. Also, he left the door open when he left. Like offering up an invitation. Come out here. Come be with me.

Then in the next scene. There he is, immediately sitting down and being with Yoh.

Sure, he makes excuses as to why, but only Yoh doesn't realize their excuses. He's also being super considerate. He could demand Yoh spend time with him, but he's trying to find Yoh's boundaries. Then when Yoh goes to fix him a plate, he immediately stops him. Though it's in such a stoic way as to confuse Yoh.

A Dom can feel insecure too, and that's what I feel we may be seeing from Segasaki. Which is why we are getting attention seeking demands from him. That Yoh once again completely misreads. Segasaki wants to feel connected to him.

Again, he notices something off with Yoh and asks, but Yoh doesn't talk. And he doesn't push. The drink. I freaking love that he drinks from Yoh. I do this so often but have never seen it represented in a show or movie before, it tickles me.

These two are both so in love with each other, but they're both just stupid. Waking him up to make sure he goes and sleeps in a bed. Segasaki's sadness at being late and likely missing the Yoh making him dinner. You can see Yoh's instant sadness at being told not to make dinner for him. For all he complains about being a "servant" he sure does get upset when the duties are taken away. And let me repeat, in my opinion he is in no way a slave/servant, that's just how he views himself. It is not how Segasaki views him, and for a slave/servant he is given far too many liberties.

Here is the thing about M/s relationships. The master owns the slave. Slaves have absolutely no power. The best example is actually Hira from My Beautiful Man, prior to them developing a relationship anyway. Now, outside of fiction, the submissive 100% consents to this. This is not what we are seeing with Yoh. He is giving off all kinds of brat vibes, and Segasaki is allowing it. Which is why I'm saying what I'm saying about Yoh.

In general, M/s and BT/b won't be in the same room. We have a whole different view on D/s relationships. A Brat Tamer and brat will likely have experience in M/s relationships, but a M/s will have zero experience in BT/b relationships. Did I lose you? A Brat Tamer and brat when entering the kink community will often explore themselves and all the D/s spectrums, but once landing on BT/b, they stop. They've found themselves. A Master and slave will never explore BT/b, we either disgust them or confuse them.

I adore how he realized what he was doing and threw down the teruteru bouzu like it was going to contaminate him.

Ugh, why we got to talk about a woman's cleavage. Especially as another female. Why put a female down over fucking tits? I get that this story line is meant to sure as initiating the jealousy from Yoh. I personally don't appreciate it, though. They could have easily established it without discussing how a female should or should not dress. Honestly, though, I think they did it in order to put the woman's tits on display, and I'm not mad at it. I hit the pause button and gave suitable appreciation for the support that bra was giving her.

Segasaki is completely oblivious to anyone other than Yoh and given the opportunity of getting home early to him. He is taking it. Sorry party lovers.

OH, that look Segasaki gives after the initial "huh!" is a look that I'm sure had subs alike backing up from their screen. That look, is a Dom's I'll be damned, look. I personally got giddy over it. Yup, "You have the nerve to do this when someone is holding back?" The fact that he was allowed to push him away, and rather than getting punished, Segasaki begins cleaning up after him. That's a Brat Tamer and brat. Each Dom in my opinion has a different type of patience. You can't beat a Deep Dom when it comes to play but lifestyle, that's hands down a Brat Tamer. We are more likely to be charmed and amused by things that would set other Doms off. But there are no doubts that he is Dom. He said stop drinking, and he isn't backing down.

Oh, that shut up takes him by surprise and pauses him. His face tightens in annoyance, but he waits and listens to Yoh. He is not too happy when Yoh says that he'll make lots of money and get out of there. He wants an explanation, but his brat pushes him away. These two are a shitshow. A train wreck that I can't look away from. Drunk Yoh is a brave and talkative Yoh. On the bright side, we are getting mush needed things said.

Oh damn, there is lots of anger there. Yoh is very pushy, and let me say that only a guilty Dom would put up with that shit. "You never smile at me like that."

"I'm tired. I'm tired when I'm with you. I hate it."

And I have just fallen in love with Segasaki as a Dom. I've been falling since the first episode, but now he has cemented it. When Yoh says this, Segasaki becomes self reflective. Sure he's sad, that's expressed in facial expression and body language, but he isn't mad, and then we see that he's appreciative. Which he expresses to Yoh.

He rubs his head, "You talk a lot when drunk." Then he smiles. Ohhh, I was wrong about the rain. It happens people. I still maintain that he saw Yoh's anticipation and enjoyed it, though. You are not going to convince me otherwise. Segasaki was trying to respect a boundary. Meanwhile, Yoh is like, "Can't we buy a dryer." Bro isn't good with just going and buying an extra sheet. No, homeboy wants a dryer so he can get that D on the regular without worrying about sheets.

OMG! I love these two so fucking much. Segasaki is like, you accepted my proposal, and now you're saying you don't want it. Giving a whole new meaning and light to it that has Yoh scrambling to catch up. Segasaki calls him an idiot. He also asks Yoh if he hates him and when Yoh says nothing, he says whatever and rubs Yoh's head. Though this time it's not affectionately. I think he knows that Yoh doesn't really hate him, but he doesn't know how to get the relationship on track either.

The next previews look promising and I'm excited!

Hope you guys enjoy! 💜💜💜

#Segasaki and Yoh #my personal weatherman #luta talks my personal weatherman #luta talks kink #coconuts mafia

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the-cimmerians · 21 days

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a storytime story. Not my story, it's my friend's, but she doesn't go here so I'm sharing for her. We'll call her Mara. Mara is a high-femme, lovely queer girl from a wealthy family in the southern US, but when I met her she'd been living in California for many years, chugging through her postgraduate education in Women's Studies. She rarely went home, because being at home was always a bit of a fraught experience: not unendurable (because to most heteronormative casual viewers the radiant queerness of a high-femme is pretty much indistinguishable from a quirky beauty queen waiting for the right football quarterback to sweep her off her feet), but still--not the most fun. Yet every once in a while, Mara would have a fit of 'dutiful daughter'-itis, and go home to mend some fences and keep some peace.

Mara's mother had often asked her to come with her to philanthropic events, but Mara had always said no. On this trip, however, Mara's mother had purchased a full table as an event sponsor, and she cajoled Mara into going with her. For those of you who haven't ever attended such an event, they are all different, and yet terrifyingly all the same (and I say this not as an attendee, but as an event-runner for various nonprofits; an event-runner who, fair warning, hates everything about these events, and this part of nonprofit work). There is some form of lower-calorie food (chicken or fish on greens with a very light citrus-fruit dressing is de rigeur, along with some sort of fruit-based airy parfait served in the smallest and most elegant glasses imaginable for dessert), usually an emcee (occasionally entertaining, but always inoffensive to the assembled guests), sometimes speakers (high-profile or famous women on a local or national level depending on the 'get' of the organization in question, or extremely well-spoken young people or teens for youth-serving organizations--with the youth in question being very carefully coached), and an 'ask'--the fundraising portion of the event, where the wealthy attendees compete with the rest of their friends and enemies in the social scene to be the most gracious and beneficent person in the room.

And there is gossip. So much gossip.

Poor Mara knew enough to expect some of this (mostly due to listening to me complain bitterly about how awful these events are), but there were aspects for which she was completely unprepared. Her mother had filled her sponsorship table with all of her closest friends, and the 'social hour' before the event started in earnest was a haze of white wine and a constant stream of excessively perfumed women dressed in full southern socialite chic, coming by the table to air-kiss cheeks and say how it's been ages since they've seen each other and what a darling ensemble, where on earth did you get it? and who does your hair now?--you must tell me, it's simply scrumptious--you look incredible, we really must do lunch some time soon--

...and the moment the woman or women in question moved on, the table, as a whole, in excited, urgent-whispered voices, would drag the everloving fuck out of every single lady they'd just been gushing over.

"Did you see how botched her last lift was? I hardly recognized her--I'm surprised she recognized me, with her eyes yanked back like that--" "so terrible, but she did go to the cheapest surgeon in town--husband has money troubles, you know--"

"Didn't expect to see her here, but I suppose you have to go somewhere to show off that large a collection of paste jewels--" "oh, stop, you wicked girl! But you're right, of course--and she gives herself such airs, like we don't all know--"

"Poor dear looks exhausted--apparently keeping up with her pool boy isn't easy at her age--" "Can't say that I blame her; that Carlos, have you seen him? Of course, she's hardly his only client. I've been dying for a pool, but my Henry just won't--"

"Quite a plucky little attitude for someone whose husband just left her for his twenty-two year old secretary--" "And after she put him through college and law school--I heard she's not even going to get to keep the house. She really should have sprung for a better lawyer--"

"I can't believe she still thinks she can fit into that dress, with all the weight she's packed on--" "Truly grotesque--just ghastly! Seems like last summer at the fat farm didn't do her as much good as one would have hoped--"

::giggle:: ::giggle:: ::giggle::

Mara was horrified, sitting there with a bland, polite smile frozen on her face, with her white gloves and vintage pillbox hat and charming little clutch bag, her seamed stockings and her kitten heels and her classic red lipstick and pin-curls (because in true unquenchable femme spirit, she had taken this occasion as an opportunity for dress-up, an opportunity for fun and play and sexy whimsy--a Gene-Tierney-does-pin-up-girl kind of vibe), utterly unable to see how to extricate herself from this terrible situation.

Another woman glided away from the table, coyly waving heavily-beringed fingers. "Yes, Darling," Mara's mother said, coyly waving back. "See you soon! Kiss-kiss! Love to Laurent!" She sat down and hissed to the cabal at the table: "Ha! Her husband just gave her an STD."

The woman to Mara's left leaned forward excitedly. "Really? Two-door or four-door?--wait, if it was the latest Aston Martin, I'm going to literally perish of envy--"

And that was the tipping point--Mara fled. Walked until she found a suitably divey coffee shop. Had a coffee and a slice of peach pie, and flirted with a soft Butch waitress until the world seemed less dire.

#storytime tumblr #'Mara' - thank you for sharing your story with me and letting me share it with others #because it's hilarious and so accurate #and i'm so glad you made it home after this ordeal #seriously though - fundraising events are the fucking worst #rare ass personal post

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ivnxrori · 22 days

Text

When Sun and Moon meet - S2

Zuko x Fem!WaterBender!Reader Enemies to Lovers

As one of the Princesses of the Northern Water tribe, you were blessed with a gift by the moon. However you were permitted to be allowed to use the gift at all costs. From many hidden waterbending usages, the aftermath of the avatar visiting the Northern Tribe had led to your beginning journey, hiding yourself as a water bender as a princess from the Northern water tribe

Warnings: none

Masterlist

҉ * ‧͙ ⋆ ⁺ ༓ ☾ Chapter 7 - Refreshing Tea

“Have you heard of that tea-house? All of a sudden their tea has been the best in Ba Sing Se!” One of the men said. “Oh then I must try it out! I have been craving tea recently," the woman responded with a laugh. I wasn't the biggest fan of tea outside of the northern water tribe. The only tea that exists was Spirit Oasis Tea which was only used for meditating in the Spirit Oasis to the Moon spirit. Ironic that the water tribe doesn't have a variety of drinks. “Uhm ma’am” I snapped out of me zoning out. I have been doing that more recently. “Sorry…” I said sheepishly as I handed him water tribe money. “You must be hearing about the new tea at the tea-house, I haven't had the time to go there but man I really want to. Sadly I'm constantly stuck at work.” The worker complained. Maybe I should check out the new tea area. “Water tribe money? Wow I haven't seen this currency in a while” The store owner said as I packed up my groceries for today. “Sorry, that's all I'm able to carry” Internally praying he accepts the pay. “Money is money” He shrugs and I let out a sigh of relief. “Have a nice day” he waved off while I smiled in gratefulness, taking Aku by the lead.

҉ ☾

Aku and I managed to get there, the sky was dark and the moon was slowly rising up. I really like the night sky because that's the only time I get to see Yue again. I smiled and parked Aku near the entrance. “Stay here buddy” I consoled before going into the tea-house. Once I walked there were still a lot of people, only one table was empty. Is the tea here really that good? Or this is the only tea-house here. I'm here to find out anyway. I was able to sit down at the empty table after making my order, which was just…tea. My mind wanders off thinking my father and Yue would have loved tea, not just specifically from here but in general. “Here’s your tea” a boy said, placing down the cup on the wooden table. I smiled softly “thank you” looking up at him, the realization hitting me. He has a very familiar scar on the left side of his face, it was none other than Zuko himself. Both of our eyes widened from the realization of who each other was. He totally figured out who I was. I immediately got up in fear, preparing to run away however it was prevented by Zuko himself. He grabbed my wrist, softer than I expected. “What are you doing here?” He whispered which made me irritated. “What are you doing here!?” I hissed. I didn't even get my answer due to an interruption made by…Jet?!

“These two are firebenders!” Jet yelled out, holding two of his swords. How did he figure that out? Did he fight with them? “I saw the old man heating his tea,” Jet continued to yell. “He works at a tea shop,” one of the soldiers defended. He made eye contact with me, I freaked out internally thinking what was he going to do. “He is attacking this girl right here!” He pointed the sword at Zuko and I. We both looked down still seeing Zuko’s hand wrapped around my wrist. Due to this we quickly pulled back, I blushed in embarrassment. “N-No! The tea was too hot so he pulled my hand away before I could get burnt” I explained, my voice going a pitch higher than I wanted it to be. I don't know why I defended Zuko, but he didnt do anything bad to me at that moment. Zuko said absolutely nothing, way to go Zuko. “Drop your swords boy, nice and easy” The soldiers got up but Jet didn't care. “You have to defend yourself, then everyone will know. Go ahead! Show them what you can do.” Zuko took the sword of one of the soldier’s “You want a show? I'll give you a show!” I grabbed my cub and tea before Zuko moved the table with his leg. I honestly couldn't be bothered with this situation. It doesn't include me and I wasnt that close with either of them to care. I tried taking a sip of the tea made, which was surprisingly still warm and I was even more surprised that it tasted really good. No wonder everyone wants to come here, and father would love this!

I continued drinking until I realized Aku was still outside. I went outside near the door frame to see a crowd of people surrounding Zuko and Jet, who were on opposite sides. “It's true sir, we saw the whole thing, this crazy kid attacked the finest tea maker in this city.” One of the soldiers said, making the old guy blush. Jet's eyes meet mine again making me flinch and look away. “Y/N do you trust me?” He says out loud making all the eyes go on me. My eyes widened and I looked down in embarrassment. What should I say? It's not like me saying anything would make much of a difference, unless if I took my hood down I would be able to use my princess card. “Stop bringing the young lady into this, can't you see she is scared” One of the women said, shielding me. Slowly everyone was defending me. I looked at Jet one last time before turning away. I'm sorry Jet, the person you shouldn't trust is me. He looked at me painfully before getting taken away from the guards. Jet continued spouting out words which slowly went faint and slowly everyone in the circle disappeared. “Some kinda friend you are” I turned around and saw Zuko. “He was not my friend,” I sneered. “Why did you defend me anyways, your the one that actually saw me fire bend”

“I didnt even defend you, I was trying to keep attention away from me” “Did it work?” “What is your problem? Isn't it more beneficial for you than it is for me?” I spat in annoyance.

“Calm down you two” The old man said, calming the both of us down. “How did both of you recognize me?” I asked worriedly, holding the hood closer to my face. “Your face is quite recognizable once you've seen it, Princess Y/N. Now how about some tea, it will be on the house.” The old man whispered the second part which made me breathily sigh. “I'm good for the day” I glared at both Zuko and the old man. I go outside to take Aku and leave.

“Sorry Aku, i'm just going to go for a little walk okay?” I patted Aku on the head before I left. I was never allowed to go out at sundown before so I wanted to see what it was like. I stretched my arms over my head before seeing a kid and an adult. The adult had the kids' ball, taunting him. Really? How immature are these adults? “Hey, let the kids have some fun” I stated, defending the kid who turned towards me. His eyes were bloodshot red, tears were streaming down his face. “Hah, what are you gonna do? Hit me?” The guy taunted, shaking the ball. “I might just do that” I get water out of my water pouch, slapping them. “Ow” the guy hissed and let go of the ball “you will regret this!” he yelled running away. I grab the ball and gently hand it to the boy. “You need to be careful at night, who knows what could happen” I wiped the tears that were on his cheeks. He sniffed in response, grabbing a ball. Shakily saying “T-Thank you kind lady” He looked down. I smile softly “No problem, now where are your friends?” I looked around to see no one. “They all left once the scary man came” He sniffled. I patted his head sweetly. “Let's get you home little guy” I smiled as he grabbed my hand.

“Say thank you to the kind lady, who knows what we would do without her” The mom patted his back, ushering him to thank me. “Thank you!” He smiled. Both the mother and the son waved in delight. I waved them back and turned around, away from the house. I should probably go home by now, I'm feeling a bit tired. I yawned in my hand, till I heard something. I turned around quickly, searching for anything but there was nothing. Huh…I guess I'm just hearing things. Then I felt a grasp around my wrist. I immediately flick it away, using my water bending to hit them back. “Who's there?” I said out loud. “I told you, you will regret this” the guy from before said, chuckling evilly. The same guy who stole a kids ball. This time he had two additional accomplices. “Please you're so immature” I laughed mockingly which heated him up furthermore. Before he could strike, a figure barged in, striking them with two blades. My eyes widened at the scene and I quickly took out the figure behind me, whacking him down. I turned around to check out the scene again. I got a better look of the figure who held two swords, wore a blue mask and an all black outfit. “Just who…are you?” I raised my brows, moving closer. Just as I was about to get close enough, he ran, taking the three guys with him. That was awfully weird, man I really need to get home now…

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a/n: Sorry for the late post WOOO Managed to post it on time!! So yeah! Thats literally it LMAO have a nice day and take care fo yourself!!

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