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grapecaseschoices · 1 year

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meet my @/infamous-if mcs

Ori Zhou, lead singer of Gains

fc: Chella Man

Potential RO(s): Inadvertently romancing ValenReign (what happens when you and your wife fall in love with the puppy himbro with good intentions)

age*: 26; height: 5′10″

Genre: Electronic, indie pop, power pop

Band/Music Flavor: Gympop; Himbro punk rock (”100 Bad Days” by AJR, “Stacey’s Mom” by Fountain of Wayne, “My Own Worst Enemy” by Blink 182, “Teeth” by 5SOS, “Shut up and Dance” by WALK THE MOON)

Style: It isn’t that different on stage and off stage. Colorful t-shirts, hoodies, cargo shorts. Overalls. Sleeveless shirts. He likely wears nicer graphic shirts over his a-shirt when performing / meeting fans.

Bisexual

transgender, genderqueer (he/him)

has cochlear implants, communicates in english and asl.

Alana Carita, lead singer of Promised Promises

fc: Zion Moreno

Potential RO(s): 7 Lawless. (what happens when you realise that the ex-best friend whose guts you hate may have(?) always been in love with you)

age: 27; height: 5′11

Genre: Country (TexMex/Tejano influneces), Folk (pop & indie influences)

Music/Band Flavor: Yearning; The Soft Rock That Played During Your Mom’s (and yours) Favorite Romanic Moments In Films (”Ashes” by Lindi Ortega, “Crying” by Veronique Medrano, “I Was Born To Love You” by Ray LaMontagne and Sierra Ferrell, “Wheres’ My Love” (Acoustic) by Symyl, “The Story” by Brandi Carlile)

Style: A dollop of romantic academia, a sprinkle of quirky, a cup of romantic cottagecore, a handful of pink and general pastels, with 1940/50s silhoutte and 1990s flair. There’s a lean to the bows, flowers, and frills on stage giving a sort of faerie tale aesthetic.

Sevensexual.

transgender, nonbinary (she/her)

Layla “Lala” Sandoval, lead singer of DramaWhore.

fc: Francia Raisa

Potential RO(s): August Pierce (what happens when you try to mind your business and the music but fal for the dryly sarcastic lowkey adrenaline junkie?)

age*: 28, height: 5′4″

Genre: PENDING

Music/Band Flavor: PENDING

Style: Similar to Ori’s. She is a big fan of overside hoodies, especially hoddies with slogans on them. Enjoys graphic tees, (at times baggy) jeans, short shorts. Has leather jackets, loves them. And that’s more the persona and vibe on stage; the ‘fits are tighter. It gives less homebody or out for a hike and more Latine bred in NY and serving street fashion (baddie with a hint of skater)

Queer

nonbinary (they/them)

Bethany Josnel “BJ” Coleman, lead singer of (TBD)

fc: Giveon Dezmann Evans

Potential RO(s): Orion Quinn (what happens when you notice the pining despite your very best efforts.)

age: 27, height: 5′9″

Genre: Alternative R&B, Soul, Soft Pop

Music/Band Flavor: Sexy Stylish Swipe Right Jams; Modern Knightly Devotion (”bend yr” ear by Son Little, “Fall In Love With You” by Montell Fish, “Lovely” by Billie Eilish ft. Khalid, “Best Part” by Daniel Caesar ft. HER, “Moonlight” by Kali Uchis)

Style: Grandpa-core (brown oxfords, light slacks/dark khakis, button up, and sweater, a watch that has roman numerals). On stage PENDING (but something like this; when Prince and a marching band member had a baby and it’s the Darkling)

Queer (preference men)

cisgender (he/him)

#infamous if #meet my ocs #grapes chars #oc: ori zhou #oc: alana carita #oc: lala sandoval #oc: josnel coleman #*i imagine mc's age is the same as seven's but i headcanon different for my shipping interests/based on character vibe #bc og ori is 23 and og lala is like 31 so ...#also i repurposed two bloomic mcs #this is honestly all alana's fault. (and ori's). i missed them 3we455we lmao #i didnt even wanta seven mc. sigh #it was only go be three dont judge me #i'll probably end up with a seb mc. very likely bc i really wanted to have a fat mc but giveon was like yo #long post #all of this is subject to change but i had to feel out vibes before hand #especially for josnel #i think the ros are pretty solid but who knows. who really knows til one plays #debating if i should give the reused mcs seperate tags....#sigh #i dont usually do this but this but im so looking forward this game which is funny bc i dont even follow bands irl #my infamous mcs

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itspyon · 6 months

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how to adapt into dtblr culture for twitter refugees

so you've decided to move here from twitter. welcome and congratulations. this post is basically a big warning that goes THIS ISN'T TWITTER, DON'T BEHAVE LIKE IT IS, LEAVE THAT AT THE DOOR

i'll be teaching you two things, how the site works, and how to adapt your behavior to tumblr ( and really, normal human being ) culture. believe me, it's not that hard and it will actually feel very productive

let's start with the basics and frequent questions

your username can be anything, don't stress about it

your picture can be anything. a lot of us don't even have dteam related stuff up on our profile

your display name doesn't have to be your name. nobody is going to see it when you post, only usernames are visible

check your settings. do it. get familiar with them. turning on and off asks, turning anon off, turning submissions off. click on your blog, go to blog settings, check things there, go to account, your muted things will be there, go to dashboard and customize that. use your settings !!!

yes, pinned posts are fairly important and they tend to be pretty extensive. name age what you post about ( a lot of people here are multifandom !), just don't overshare ( no locations no trigger lists i beg you ). they also usually have a breakdown of your tags at the end

tags

it's a whole thing. some are actually useful. some are just passive commentary

the tags you put on posts ( both when you made the post and when you're reblogging something ) are both global and hosted on your profile. it's why you'll see things like "nameofperson art" rather than just "art". using just "art" will put you in the promoted tag, in this case

you can use spaces on your tags

usually you will tag what type of post you're making ( art, text post, ask post ), and then the contents keep in mind this is how people often mute things, some people tag the current situation, people use and mute ship tags. but this is also how people find things, like the specific asks from one person to another, so "username ask" is commonly used, "irl person ( dream, dnf, etc )" is also seen a lot just watch how others tag things and copy them. nobody will get offended you took their tag formatting, most of us will appreciate properly tagged posts

you do tag when you reblog people. you use tags to comment on things. don't really use replies unless you're, saying thank you to someone or pointing out a spell mistake or asking to add an option to a poll, etc. we don't do replies, just rb your reply

quick reblog and like deets

post popularity is measured in "notes" which is the sum of replies, reblogs and likes. we don't really care much about numbers here and if you start getting crazy about it people will not like it. this is more of a talking and showing site

you can reblog without tags, feel free to

you can hide your likes. you can and should like as many things as you want. they don't alter any algorithm, since there's none. a like is a "i saw this post" notification to the poster

actually posting

people talk a lot. a fucking lot, and it's something you will have to get used to, because it's very different from twitter

there are no qrts. callouts are looked down upon. breathe. if you don't like something MUTE IT DON'T POST ABOUT IT, because no one is going to listen to any callouts. you will have to learn to live with the fact people like things you don't. this will, with time, make you feel very free

the bulk of posting here is asks, as you might notice soon. asks are fun and encouraged. just don't name drop if you're talking about drama please ?

don't be scared to send asks off anon, this is how people will find you and get to know you really. people are also more likely to reply to you

block bait anons. yes you can block anons. yes it will block every blog they make

culture time

i've said this. tumblr is unserious. drama here is approached very differently and with several less layers of panic. you will see death threats. you will see slurs ( said in non derogatory ways ). you will see jokes about serious topics. you will see people say "i didn't like this" and nobody will care

tumblr is a community of individualism. you will like your own things within the thing we share we like. you might not like dream's music, you might not find irl streams entertaining, as long as you're fucking normal about it ? nobody will care and you're free to express your opinions. people will even come ask you about it and just have a chat. we're here for the same content to some degree

tumblr is also a bunch of people who understand they like another bunch of people. that none of the streamers have stopped being human. so you might see people defend things that, maybe, you'd not have thought to defend before. maybe you're even uncomfortable seeing them defending it. this is something you will experience a lot, and you'll learn to properly deal with it as time passes

because again. no one does callouts here unless it is extremely bad. no one cares if you don't really like them. and they also accept people might and will not like them. and that is fine. and that doesn't make either person horrible. you're just different people. and you don't even have to interact

you want to make friends ? ask people things, compliment people's work, genuinely attempt to make conversation. this is not an impersonal website the way twitter is. people don't care about your opinions because they care about you, and you are more than what you don't like

the more positive and jokey and interactive you are the more people will talk to you. there's no "hitting the algorithm", there's no "engagement", it's just people talking to people. so don't be a neg posting bot, and be a person

you will learn to be less miserable. you learn to stop giving a shit and just do what makes you happy. they cannot get you here. there's no qrts. the few antis you'll find can be blocked and you'll never have to directly interact with one. don't be mean to the people in your own community, even if you disagree

again, you are more than what you don't like. learn to be what you like instead. and leave the dooming at the door

#pyon long post #if you have any questions feel free to ask #i will be happy to attach them with a reblog

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moodymisty · 2 months

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[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Part 2 of ? - Part 1

Author's note: Part 2, enjoy. More severe yandere combined with a teeny tiny tiny bit of lewdness. Could I write another part? Maybe. ;3 I just wanted to keep myself at a reasonable amount of work while I take my 'break'.

Summary: Guilliman falls for the one person who's treated him like a man, and wants nothing more than for you to never leave him.

Relationships: Guilliman/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Yandere, Obsessive relationship and Guilliman using his power to manipulate and trap you, I don't have to tag age difference do I?, Dubious consent, Guilliman's yandere grip gets tighter and a bit more obvious

Word Count: 2813

Guilliman and you both look over a holotable, the sickly green glow casting both of your bodies in it's light. Guilliman notices you glancing up at him more than a few times, in-between speaking.

He's more than pleased he threw everyone out of this room, to grant you both a moment of privacy. Having to maintain decorum around you is difficult, far more than he thought it would be.

"The planet is largely unmined, with some convincing, we could perhaps take advantage of all the raw material." You notice Guilliman's reaction to the prospect when you take another glance upward at him.

"I don't like that face," You joke. "You look irritated at that idea." Guilliman takes a deep breath through his nose.

"I remember this planet, from the Great Crusade. They were pompous and unmovable. Perhaps time has mellowed them." He looks at you, and watches the silky blue fabric of your dress shift against your form as you lean to one side and think.

The dress was a gift from him. One of many. He had excused it as a business expense, to match you with him and his legion in attire. It should be obvious upon first glance that you are with him, a part of the Ultramarines. Though your happiness at seeing it had fit absolutely perfect was worth more than anything else.

The necklace laying against your collarbone was one as well. The more he looks the more he realizes that you're swimming in gifts. Even after such a short period of time.

You gently smile at his comment. "Hopefully it has." Guilliman shifts, and outside the Armour of Fate, he takes pleasure in the ability to twist and turn without limits.

"There was not many planets that I could say truly made me angry; This was one of them." You raise your eyebrows while listening. "Perhaps this time with you will be different." Guilliman leans away from the holotable, and changes the subject to something more casual.

"Would you like something to drink?" He says. "You've been here for hours now." You shake your head and laugh at him, hands pressing against the edge of the holotable's frame.

"I am always here for hours, Roboute. I practically live here."

You are almost always at his side, either on new planets or on the Macragge’s Honor, surrounded by Ultramarines. Anyone you might’ve known on Macragge has fallen to the wayside, friendships decayed. You simply didn’t have the time for them, anymore.

Guilliman had made sure of it.

As for 'practically' live here, you do live here; Any attempt to leave would've been swiftly denied but any myriad of excuses. One of the positives of him keeping you so busy has been that you simply think it easier just to stay on the ship, and Guilliman knows as time passes you'll begin to think of it as home instead of where you lived before.

You almost never speak to the few guardsmen or serfs around however, as they’d been ordered to by and large avoid you, unless given a task. Your only option for company is him, or his men. You’ve spoken to Sicarius all of once, and rarely others. Many of them have yet to warm up to your sudden entrance into their lives, and legion.

You and Lieutenant Titus had begun to chatter a bit more as of late, but Guilliman had made sure to tell the marine to keep his words curt, and hands to himself.

"But yes. I'll gladly take a drink."

In this moment Guilliman is thankful he can stay out of the Armour of Fate for more than a few hours at a time now, as he pours a glass of wine for you. He is already far too large for this world, and the gauntlets would've only made such a task impossible. You speak up again as he hands you one of the two glasses, and you gently take it between both of your much gentler hands.

"I never did thank you properly for the dress." He shakes his head.

"You should be wearing attire appropriate of your position; You're no longer just a translator on Macragge; You are part of the Ultramarines, now." He continues. "And you should consider it a gift for your fine work, as well."

You softly thank him, a gentle smile on your face as you take another sip of wine. He can see the stain on your lips, before you wick it away.

He can tell on your face that you're tired, after hours and hours of this. He's sure the other diplomats don't provide very good company, especially for long periods.

But just as you open your mouth to say your goodbyes, to return to your quarters and leave him alone for hours once again, Guilliman cuts you off.

Now is a better time than any. You both are alone, in good spirits; He doubts he'll find a better time to say this.

“I do have one more thing to ask of you, before you leave.”

With a curious look you gaze up at him, the wine glass empty in your hand. You set it aside as Guilliman rounds the holotable to stand in front of you. You aren't phased by it, his physical stature and position in the Imperium no longer do so after so much time together. Yet another reason why he needs to grab hold of you tight before he no longer has the chance.

“I’m all ears, Roboute.”

You speak so humanly and casually to him, which makes him nearly smile.

He can’t wait to finally make you his.

To not have to stand a distance away, to keep his hands away from you. To refer to you with your proper title, and forgo the intimacy of your given name. His men don't tolerate you speaking to him so casually, but as Lady Guilliman, they'll have little choice in the matter.

He had wanted to do this slowly, properly, but he is so unfathomably inpatient when you're so close to him.

Guilliman takes a knee, and enjoys the feeling of being able to do so outside of his hulking armor. The action makes your eyebrows raise, curious as to why he seems to be acting so different than moments before. While he might lament his height at times, he rarely kneels in front of you, unless what he must say is of the utmost importance.

"I suppose I should be blunt," He says, before continuing. “You have been nothing but kind, forgiving, and humorous with me.”

You look at him confused, the pale green light of the holotable illuminating half of your face.

"In all of our time together, it has dawned on me that my fondness for you perhaps goes beyond just that of a friend."

You look so surprised; How innocent you are to how much he needs you, even as he says this.

“I would ask for more as to court you the way a woman such as you deserves.”

He knows from a source, multiple of them, that your family has been seeking a marriage for you. Your work and fierce independence, as well as Guilliman's sudden diplomatic proposition, had postponed it for the time being, but Macragge’s culture would eventually catch up to you.

His own proposal will put a fierce stop to that. A real one, not one for a diplomatic position. That was to simply get you away from them, off of Macragge; You being so well versed at it was simply good fortune. But for once he’s pleased with the worship his title brings him; Someone so high in the Imperium would never refuse his asking for your hand.

And if he did, Guilliman knows of more than a few other options to fix such a problem.

He also knows you won’t say no. He knows that no suitor your family found for you could ever stand next to him, and not lost in his shadow. He would refuse to allow it. You don’t know any of them as well as you do him, you’ve been surrounded by nothing but his sons for nearly a year now. Your entire life is him, his legion and his crusade.

Your few friends and acquaintances have slowly fallen away one by one, friendships decaying or their fear of misstepping around a women so close to the Lord Regent pushing them all away. Familiar faces have been forgotten, your guards replaced with his own men.

For once, he finally gets a chance to be selfish. To finally have someone he can call his own; Who will never leave him. Someone there for him in every meaning of the word, and no longer will he have to traverse this rotten galaxy alone.

“I, um,” Now of all times words have left you, and you stumble over your tongue. Though Guilliman has no need for you to say any of them.

He knows you’re going to say yes. There is no possible scenario of all the ones he has meticulously planned out where you don't.

If you some how defied the odds and did so out of some sort of corruption or manipulation, he has more than enough time to keep you held somewhere safe until you regained your senses.

Guilliman takes a hand and cups the side of your jaw, tilting your head upward. Such an angle makes it easier for the massive primarch to press his lips to your own, stiff from surprise.

Though they do soften, and you accept his kiss. Your eyes flutter closed and your hands go from frozen in front of your chest, to laying against his collarbone.

His lips press against yours harder, and you softly sigh into his mouth.

His difference in stature makes even such a simple thing require so much logistical thinking, as he looms over you. His strength makes it so easy to push you away, so he places a hand on your back to keep your close.

This moment, and many farther beyond, have been replayed in his head a million times. He knows each step to take. Each movement to pull your closer into him, and to be gentle with you. No matter how much is patience is tried as your warm, soft lips finally press against his; Your heart and breath like music to his ears. He can hear it all, now that you're so close.

You pull away for a moment- lips plump and well kissed- and take a breath but as soon as he sees your mouth open to try and form words, he swallows them. His lips press against yours again with even more force than the last.

You want this, you want him; He refuses to let you talk yourself out of it.

His massive hand trails up your thigh, slowly pushing up the bottom your dress. He reveals more and more, and he swears he can smell the way your body is calling for him. The soft flesh of your thighs is surely visible now, nearly at their apex and he wants nothing more than to place his head between them and make your cry out for him.

“Lord Guilliman?”

The Primarch quickly moves to right himself, as you brush the bottom of your dress back into form.

The duo of Astartes instead of waiting simply spoke his name as they walked in, now standing in the entrance watching their Primarch boil in his own armor.

In a morose thought, he supposes this was how Angron felt about his sons at times; The hate.

“What is it that is so important that it could not wait?”

Both men are unable to read the room, and fail to notice you with your wide eyes, heavy breathing, and the way your arms wrap around your body. One arm of your dress dropped revealing your shoulder, and you quickly fix it. The bottom of your dress catches on the soft flesh of your thighs, and fails to right itself until you quickly brush it downward.

“Lord Calgar wishes to speak with you immediately. He explicitly stated it was urgent.”

“Everything with Calgar is urgent…” Guilliman uncharacteristically mumbles.

You back away from him, and Guilliman resists the urge to grab you. He resists it purely to not startle you after so much has happened; He doesn't wish to push you too hard just yet.

“I’ll see you in a bit then, Guilliman. I should get some rest before we make it planetside.”

With little option in the matter without using force, Guilliman nods.

“…Very well. Perhaps we can continue this conversation another time.” You look him in the eyes for a moment before glancing away.

"Yes, I'd like that."

He resists the urge to let the corners of his mouth drift upwards, before reluctantly letting you leave.

Guilliman taps his armored fingers against the tabletop in a rare moment of impatience. He takes a deep breath, and his armor shifts. He can still feel the softness of your lips on his from the evening before, and he wants nothing more than to finish what he had started, no matter how much this forsaken crusade attempts to get in his way.

He knows you'll wake soon and begin your day. It will be a longer one, with hours of frivolous speech with various diplomats and dignitaries. You're far better than he at these sorts of things. In his youth he might've been a bit more patient with the song and dance, but now he has little time for it.

You'll meet him here once you're ready. He has your routines memorized, paths traced. He knows how much time you take, and if you deviate from it, he'll send someone to right your path and bring you to him. You might have more freedom than many aboard the Macragge's Honor, but only because he knows you will always return to him.

His men know to not let you wander too far anyhow. They might be neutral to you now, but they know to not allow you too far out of your bounds for too long, even if you can't see the line.

It's not as if you have much reason to leave those bounds anyhow, now. Everything you could ever want is here. Everything you need is with him. All you have to do is ask.

Perhaps for a moment he might feel guilty, to not allow you a baseline human's normal life. But then he remembers how much he's given these thousands of years, how selfless he's been, and he casts that guilt aside.

“Sicarius.”

The Astartes is at attention near instantly, and comes to his genefather’s side with his helmet in his hand and the other on the pommel of his chainsword. A perfect marine in perfect form, as always.

“Yes, Lord Primarch?” He speaks your name, gentle on his tongue. Even just saying it returns a bit of his sanity to him.

“I don’t want anywhere she goes to be unseen when she is planetside. Use as many men as you see fit to accomplish such a task.” Sicarius shifts his weight slightly.

The captain is still new to you, to all of this with his primarch's sudden idée fixe, and expresses his concerns in a rare fit of doubt.

“My lord, is that not a waste of resources for one diplomat? For what reason?”

Guilliman sighs. Of course the one time he was relying on Sicarius' stalwart dependability and devotion, he doubts him.

"Because, Sicarius," He turns, and his shoulders straighten underneath the Armour of Fate's large pauldrons. The old wound on his neck pulses; Healed and gone, but still aching like there is a ghost of the blade that killed him.

"If she is hurt, or if someone manages to kill her, then this entire Imperium can burn in the Warp, for all I would care."

The Ultramarine Captain stands stunned, more than likely shocked by his primarch’s seeming lack of care to the modern Imperium.

Though it seems Sicarius takes his words as some sort of euphemism, or joke- he's been known to make one or two, if he feels keen- and nods.

“…It will be done, my lord.”

One day perhaps the man will understand what it’s like to be so infatuated with another. Though unlikely. Sicarius is far too absorbed in his own duties and faith to look past his own boots.

But Guilliman can. He knows his future is with you. You’ll be at his side, as his confident, his lover, the mother of his sons not made on an apothecary table.

It will all happen, it just needs time. Guilliman has the ability to give you every single thing you could ever want- be it physical or otherwise- and he has the patience to wait for you as you continue to slowly fall into his arms.

#roboute guilliman x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #primarch x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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olderthannetfic · 1 month

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https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/747721307928559616/re-747330342209404928-every-time-a-discussion?source=share

I wouldn't even make this purely about oversensitivity - I've seen fic writers refuse to tag, say, breakup because they think it would be a Good Experience (tm) for fans of the ship in question to read it (because they often think it's Problematic in some brain-wormed way), or they just think their writing is so good or so "socially important" that people who would normally avoid this commonly tagged trope should have to experience it anyway, "it's good for you" etc. and then melt down when people have the predictable reaction that something that seemed to be billed as a fluffy romance was anything but, and of course, these people's social statements are never as deep and sophisticated as they think they are. These people are weirdly, often very outspoken about the need for Content Warnings in basically any other context.

Obviously, I don't want to say that anything other than major archive warnings are a requirement to tag (and I mean, even those aren't required, you can use CNTW), or that you're required to indicate a breakup will happen if it's a big spoiler or something.... but this wasn't just that, it was deliberately false advertising the fic as something it wasn't bc they thought it would be morally edifying or something for people who dislike that trope to read it.

I like fanfiction and I'm not going to say it can never be effectively used to convey Important Ideas (tm) .... but I do think if you are going to take this attitude and especially if you're over the age of 15 or so, and especially if you're then going to have a meltdown and accuse people of "harassment" for disagreeing with you when the readers are predictably not happy, you need to consider that perhaps fanfiction is not the medium for you. Maybe write original fiction instead.

I don't know why it's so hard for some to understand that people tend to be more allowing for a story not being as happy or fluffy as they expected when the story isn't about characters they're already attached to, especially when they're in a space that's often about seeking out specific outcomes that the original work didn't give them. Like I'm sorry there's often a double standard between fanfic and original fic in this way, but it exists for a way.

But also, none of these fanfic writers I've seen do this (and this sounds niche I know but I've seen it several times in different fandom) ever actually have Takes that are remotely original or startling or groundbreaking, lol, such that it's worth misleading people because they "need to hear." It's always like.... cool, I saw this take for the first time on a Tumblr post in 2017/from someone in my women's studies class in 2010, and I thought it was a bad shallow take then and still do.

Interestingly, the people who genuinely have really interesting and unusual and thought-provoking takes that they use fanfic to express feel no need to tag it inaccurately, feel no desire to force it on people who don't want to read it. Wonder why.

Hah. I too have seen this silly behavior many times.

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lexintothenex · 4 months

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I can't help but feel guilty about all this nonsense shipping drama - I made a post the other day on my sideblog replying to an anon who came into my inbox mentioning how they were uncomfortable with the rayfrog age gap, to which I agreed. because even if they're both adults, it is a large age gap! it's completely reasonable to be uncomfortable with it.

HOWEVER.

PLEASE. read those words again. "they're both adults". they ARE, in fact, both adults. people can be uncomfortable with a pairing without necessarily trying to claim that it's Problematique.

some people will be uncomfortable with the ship. and that is okay! it is not a personal attack, I promise. if someone IS trying to attack you for liking it for no other reason than the fact that you like it, then that is obviously not okay. no one should be attacking anyone in this situation. let's just all hold hands and be friends okay.

not a fan of rayfrog? cool! me neither. that's why it's such a delightful thing that tag filtering and content filtering exists. block the tags! block people if you need to! curate your own experience. it is OKAY.

love rayfrog? also cool! see someone complaining about the ship in the tags and think it's annoying? block 'em! it's YOUR online experience!

both parties, just stop going at each other's throats, PLEASE! this is supposed to be a community! we're all buddies here! some of us don't see eye to eye, AND THAT. IS OKAY. BLOCK! BLOCK, BLOCK, BLOCK. I cannot stress this enough. THE BLOCK BUTTON IS YOUR FRIEND.

people have different boundaries. what you think is fine and dandy might be someone else's discomfort. that's just how things are! just look the other way and move on with your day.

bonus points: if you use tumblr on desktop, install xkit! it's got an extension that completely removes posts with filtered tags/keywords. no more "this post contains filtered tags". it's gone! out of the world.

#final post on the matter I promise but I just felt like I had to say something #rayman #captain laserhawk #mine #please don't send me any messages/asks about this! they will be ignored and/or deleted #I'm getting too old for all this pointless drama

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nomercifulpercival · 2 years

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taking my tags from a different post and posting them because i do be having A Lot To Say

the thing about current discussions about censorship on ao3, and antis willfully or uncritically claiming that people who dont want censorship are just ‘pedophiles’, is that they are missing the whole goddamn point.

whatever you personally choose to read, if we allow censorship to take hold on ao3 eventually your preferred fic will be eroded.

to demonstrate i present,

Things Antis Have Claimed Are Problematic and Should Be Banned:

the omegaverse - either for fetishising trans people or introducing hetero dynamics into queer relationships

chidhood friends to lovers - for sexualising children's friendships or shipping 'sibling coded' characters

age gaps between adults - from age gaps of like 40 years to age gaps of like six years (looks hard at anti-sheiths)

furries/anthro - because ‘bestiality’

enemies to lovers - for 'romanticising abuse'

any exploration of unhealthy dynamics done in a way that isnt simply 'one person is the victim and escapes their abuser'.

mutually unhealthy relationships. power dynamics such as teacher/student or boss/employee that would be unhealthy or immoral irl.

vent fiction that explicitly describes the writer's trauma - they claim people should just go to therapy instead of processing their trauma through fiction and sharing it online. (The Reality of This: i go to therapy - my therapist encourages vent fiction - i post vent fiction - i get told to die - rinse and repeat)

noncon fics that are written as erotica - i really need to impress upon antis that some people have noncon kinks! it’s not even that rare, according to one study, 62% of women admitted to fantasizing about being forced to have sex. IRL they probably explore this via consensual non consent or simply by fantasizing, and in fiction you can read about eroticised non con, get your jollies and it hurts no one in real life.

The thing about banning ANY of these things is that everyone will have different opinions of what is 'moral' or 'ok to write about'. Everyone will have different boundaries and triggers and squicks. AO3 allows you to ACTIVELY AVOID things that squick you

(and before anyone says ‘I’ve seen these things untagged’ - the AO3 rules require works to either be tagged with the relevant warning (Underage/NonCon/Graphic Violence) or ‘Author chose not to use archive warnings’. you can report improperly tagged works; they are literally against AO3s rules)

so truly the best option to keep works you like protected on AO3 is to accept that people will be writing weird shit on the internet, but you actively do not have to see it. Because otherwise they WILL ban YOUR weird shit.

*points aggressively at FFNet*

#let he who reads fanfiction without sin throw the first stone #ao3 #needed this off my chest #proship #fandom #fandom wank #(does it reveal my age that i still think of this as wank and not discourse?)#archive of our own

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hey-august · 3 months

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A Line from Me to You - Chapter 3

Description: Buggy finds a peculiar book on his ship. Enticed by the words contained on each page, the pirate opens up. Anonymity leads to vulnerability. What else will come from this? (Chapter 1, Chapter 2, check out the story tag)

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: This chapter is SFW (again). The story will eventually be NSFW. Some profanity. Buggy x afab!reader.

A/N: The plot building got out of hand with this entire story - sorry to those waiting for this to get hotter! I started writing the first spicy section, which should happen in Chapter 5. Thanks for your patience and I hope you're still enjoying this story!

Tag list: @lostfirefly @rorywritesjunk @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Buggy wasn’t sure if you would actually be interested in reading another book with him. He had a story in mind - a coming-of-age, but to Buggy, it was a mystery. The book was about two boys who became friends one humid summer.

The memory of where it came from disappeared long ago and all that remained were the reasons why Buggy kept the book through the different stages of his life. He wanted to know how the story ended. How that story ended. But ignorance was easier than reading, and fear was stronger than curiosity.

Your agreement to read with him was freeing. He felt lighter, as though his body would disconnect at each junction and his limbs would float apart without any effort. But there was a tether that kept him together - a string that had him connected to you, through the pages of a book. The outward pressure was what he needed to finally see that story to the end, whatever it may be.

The second book, titled “Rocks on the River,” was good. Really good. Buggy was pleased to read a note in the second chapter full of excitement and praise for how well-written the story was. He even circled your comment and added a checkmark, as if it was any other passage in the book that he approved of.

The author captured the carefree levity and gracelessness of childhood. The fictional duo - Harrison and Writt - would sneak out at night to swim in the watering hole, share stolen beer, and talk about a world bigger than they knew. During the day, they navigated the challenges of growing up in a small town full of strict expectations, unnecessary interpersonal conflicts, and demands to leave adolescence behind.

As the story unfolded, so did Buggy’s past. Memories unfurled slowly, aching as they stretched out the creases from being stored for so long. They woke up quietly, almost as though they were always awake and waiting to speak. The need to be shared pushed the once organized queue, jostling the order until the long forsaken memories were clamoring for control of the pen. A chance to escape arrived with one chapter detailing a frustrating fight between the boys. An argument began with two different versions of the same truth and ended with a scuffle where Writt broke Harrison’s nose.

“I had a friend like this growing up... He was a total shithead.”

That was all Buggy planned to share. It was more than enough.

One night, with river rocks at their backs and the stars overhead, Harrison asked Writt if they would be friends in another lifetime. The sandy haired boy tossed a rock towards the sky and caught the smooth stone with an outstretched hand. “No…I think we’d be brothers.”

Buggy had finished the chapter before going back to that section. The words stuck to him uncomfortably. They were irritating but nostalgic, like sand clinging to damp skin. As much as he tried to brush away the past, he couldn’t let it go. And maybe a small part of him didn’t want to let it go. The pirate told himself that it wasn’t hope or remorse, but a reminder about the pain of betrayal. The same reasoning applied when he saw the question you penned after reading that chapter.

“Were you and your friend close like these two?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“He wasn’t who I thought he was.”

You could see the lingering hurt in how the words were nearly carved into the paper. Even in the dim light, shadows settled into the deep grooves. Running a finger over the indents, a sense of guilt washed over you. This was the first time you asked questions unrelated to the story, but maybe you had crossed a line. The secrecy of sharing books made you feel closer to a stranger who might not reciprocate the fondness.

The answer also unlocked an adjacent fear - that you might also be a disappointment. Just as you hadn’t expected to move onto a second book, you also weren’t sure if you would ever have an opportunity to put a name and a face to the other reader. Storing the second thought away for another version of you that could withstand preemptive rejection, you thought about how to respond to the reader’s pain. With a few swipes of your pen, you left a short acknowledgement and appreciation that they shared this piece of themselves with you.

Unlike the first book, there weren’t as many moments that required in-depth commentary or questions to untangle intent because this was a cohesive and well-thought story. The space that remained was used to share anecdotes and moments where the highs and lows of friendship were captured too well. With each unprompted recollection, you realized there wasn’t a boundary that you cut apart with an invasive question.

Comforted that the connection was still intact, you also exchanged moments from growing up that stung decades later. One brutish story pushed you around and threatened a headache if you held onto it any long. Aware that the memory would force you to stay awake and stare at the ceiling of your small cabin while you scrutinized every mistake your past-self committed, you decided it would be less damaging to let it go free. Before you could change your mind, you began penning your own personal history.

Childhood friends had lied to you about meeting up in a nearby park. You waited by the east entrance where a crowd began to gather. Your friends weren’t present and the collection of people turned out to be participants in a footrace. For over an hour you waited and when faced with having to admit you were stood-up, you chose a different path. You pretended to be a racer. Even though you were dressed for an afternoon out, you huffed and puffed your way through the course and your strappy sandals carried you to the finish line.

“OBVIOUSLY they didn’t think you were there to race if you were wearing a goddamn sundress.” The loopy handwriting was loose and each curve struggled to stay on course due to the writer laughing with their whole body while transcribing the note.

“Yeah well where the hell were you that day? Logic and anxiety don’t always go hand in hand.” You added a frowny face, knowing it would only add to the humor of an otherwise humiliating moment.

Unfortunately, the joy captured in the pages of the book didn’t last. As the story came to an end, so did Harrison and Writt’s friendship.

Buggy was the first to read the final chapter. He finished long after the sun rose. Normally, a long night of reading would leave him with dry eyes, but not this time. The bright beams stung his eyes, which were already sore from crying and ached from reading without glasses. When the tears began falling, they came fast and spilled onto the lenses. Frustrated with having to frequently wipe his eyes and the glasses separately, Buggy tossed them aside and hunched over the tormenting book.

Years later, Writt thought back to a crisp morning, one only found at the edge of summer. One morning he spent waiting at the river for a friend who would never appear. For a friend who disappeared without a goodbye and without a trace. When school started that autumn, none of the teachers knew where Harrison was, just that his enrollment was pulled unexpectedly. After searching through the changing seasons, Writt eventually gave up on learning where Harrison and his family moved to. Sometimes, he felt the memories of the summer months slipping away. Whenever Writt felt lonely, he’d find himself laying in the shallow river water and tossing a stone to the sky. Coming back to the present, Writt was surprised to see a familiar face in another town. A face that was older, having grown a few wrinkles, and carrying the weight of life. Harrison nearly looked past Writt before recognition dawned on his face. A familiar smile grew, sitting crookedly under a nose that was broken long ago. Writt returned the smile. The boys - now men - were strangers. Time had passed, wearing them away, like rocks in a river.

---

You were just finishing breakfast when word came around that today was a “nothing” day. Every few months at sea, the captain would announce a day where nothing except necessary tasks were completed. If anything could be postponed or skipped, it was. The extra time became free for the crew to use as they desired. Most would use it to catch up on sleep, while others would take advantage of extra practice sessions, and others would corral their friends into playing games and drinking the day away.

You had one required duty for the day and would have almost an entire day free after restocking the infirmary. Before getting started, you stopped by the bench to see if you were lucky enough to have something to fill your day.

Struggling to carry the boxes and containers you stacked far too high, you kicked open the infirmary door and startled the sole occupant. The captain cussed loudly as he slammed a draw shut on his hand. The thick fabric of his glove and the slow moving, sticky drawer prevented any actual digit pinching, but adding to the superficial injury were a few boxes that slipped off your teetering pile and fell onto his feet. They weren’t heavy, but still unwelcome.

“Sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be in here!” you cried out while shuffling through the obstacles on the floor until you reached the table and could release the rest of the inventory.

“It’s a pirate ship, of course people are going to be in the infirmary,” Buggy grumbled. A floating hand dropped off the boxes of bandages and gauze that fell to the floor before returning to its search of the drawers. “You got anything for headaches in that mess?”

“Mmm, I should. Give me a second, Captain.”

Buggy watched as you rummaged through the mess. After a moment, you sighed and started searching by organizing the different supplies. Tossing similar items into piles, you uncovered the book you used as a base for carrying the ungainly amount of items. A book that Buggy had slipped under a bench less than an hour ago. Barely using his throbbing brain, he turned towards the door. Before he could make a hasty exit, a hold on his coat sleeve stopped him.

“Wait, I found ‘em. You should take some extras, in case the first dose doesn’t take care of it all.” You pressed two packets into his hand. Looking up, you were greeted by a wash of red. Aside from his usual nose, the captain’s eyes were deeply bloodshot. The crimson color eclipsed the usual cool tones of his eyes and were a stark contrast against skin that was paler than usual. His mouth was tight and his Adam's apple bobbed with a nervous swallow.

“Is it just a headache, Captain? You don’t look good…” You reached up to see if he had a fever burning under the facepaint, but a hand on your wrist stopped your movement.

“I’m fine. It’s just a headache,” Buggy said with a clipped voice that indicated the end of that topic. “Looks like you have something to spend your ‘nothing’ day on.” He tilted his head towards the table with the book. “No need to worry about me, just take care of whatever you’re doing.” He turned and left, pursued by the guilt of knowledge. Guilt from taking away your anonymity and leaving you to deal with the sad ending alone.

But you weren’t alone. The still damp spots from tears that were poured into the book were company enough.

#eventual smut #buggy x reader #buggy x you #x reader #buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #hey-august a line from me to you

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nardo-headcanons · 3 months

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it's been an age since i've been into naruto, and now that i have plans on making my own version on how naruto shippuden ended, i was wondering, how do you think naruto shippuden should've ended? like are you pro or anti naruhina? pro or anti sasusaku? whats your opinions on how the fourth war was played out? if you already spoke about this i'm sorry lol but im just wondering.

OMG HIIIIIIII @ofrolysdogs you're one of my OGs! How have you been????? Please please tag me or let me know once you create your rework. that sounds so intriguing!

This post is gonna be controversial, beauties.

How do you think Naruto Shippuden should've ended?

Ideally, with Naruto realizing that he doesn't need to become hokage to get the attention and validation from the people he loves and cares about. Or at the very least, with Naruto becoming hokage but abolishing the shinobi system. Maybe even make Danzo hokage along the way, just when Tsunade falls into her coma, and slowly make Naruto question the system more and more. Also, Sasuke's whole "redemption" arc should have been handled differently. First and foremost, he was a victim. He did a few things that were wrong, and I agree that there need to be consequences, but for this redemption arc I'd rather have him travel around and teach people around the world about the customs and culture of the Uchiha.

Are you pro or anti naruhina? pro or anti sasusaku?

I am both Anti NaruHina and Anti SasuSaku, but for two different reasons. I used to be a hardcore SNS shipper, but not so much nowadays. NaruHina had so much potential, they could have explored their class and privilege differences together, learning from each other and stuff. But Neji dying for their ship to sail? That was a hate crime. The reason I'm Anti SasuSaku is because I simply don't really like the thought of shipping Sasuke with anyone. He has enough to go through and putting him in a romantic relationship is not something that would make it more interesting or add stakes to it, although I wouldn't mind seeing him adopt a kid or two, given how family oriented Sasuke is.

Whats your opinions on how the fourth war was played out? I found the use of Edo tensei very interesting, albeit a little cheapened here and there. The Itachi and Sasuke vs Kabuto fight was a little disappointing. Don't get me wrong, I loved seeing he two of them fight together side by side, and Itachi's final parting was very touching - but them fighting Kabuto of all people? Maybe if Kishi fleshed out Kabuto's story a little more, he clearly had no idea what to do with him. Poor bastard.

Madara just 'knowing' the hand signs of edo tensei is actually not so unlikely, but it still irks me how he was able to just "come back" when Edo Tensei was released.

And let's not talk about the power scaling, which went completely through the roof in the end. Oof. Kaguya, as is, ruined the storyline completely. It could have worked, but not in the way it was executed in shippuden.

But alas, I suppose there is only so much Kishi can do within the confines of a genre.

#naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto meta #naruto opinions #anti sasusaku #anti naruhina #pro sasuke #anti konoha

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the-creative-lounge-blog · 3 months

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The video features custom community emojis by @azuzeldraws

We're ready for you to join The Creative Lounge Discord Community!

Community rules & guidelines are below the cut for anyone who'd like to preview them before joining.

Members must be at least 18 years old.

The Creative Lounge Community Invite

The Creative Lounge is a Discord community of creators and lovers of different genres, crafts, and talents that, together, foster a positive creative environment.

A good portion of this community is dedicated to content creators who work with different mediums. That's by design. We inspire one another and often collaborate. I hope The Lounge makes it easier to do both!

There's also room in here to play. I'm arranging the ability to stream art and video games in here, as well as host virtual tabletop games (these adventures are fantastic fodder for art, animation, stories, and audio works)!

Art and storytelling have been part of the human experience since our beginnings. They withstand disease, war, natural and unnatural catastrophes, and most impressively, time. Be proud of what you contribute.

Community Rules & Guidelines:

Rule #1: Be Aware. This is a shared space. You must be at least 18 years old to join this server. Individuals from all places and all walks of life congregate here. The sharing of personal information (name, location, etc.) is discouraged. Don't share personal images of anyone under the age of 18.

Rule #2: Be Respectful. Any disputes between members ought to be resolved privately. Disruptive behavior is not tolerated! No racism, sexism, hate speech, trolling, abuse, spam, picking fights, harassment, etc. Direct and indirect threats towards any other person are strictly prohibited and will incur an instant ban. Avoid discussing sensitive topics (examples: religion, politics). Try to keep the conversation relevant to the channel you are in. This is a multi-fandom, multi-shipping community. Hate directed at fandoms, characters, or ships is not allowed. While age gap ships are welcome, teacher/student ships are not (if characters are portrayed as teacher and student in canon material, do not share fanworks of those ships here). Don't steal content or ideas. Do not repost or share anything found here without the permission of that content's creator. When sharing content by others, they must be credited in your post. When sharing links to your content, ensure that it is thoroughly tagged in your post. Any NSFW content should be shared in the gated channels. No underage (less than 18 years old) or incestuous NSFW content (in ANY form, regardless of how brief it may be) is allowed in this server. Use tags and spoilers (if applicable) for “trigger warning” kind of content. Examples of warning tags: -Graphic depictions of violence -Character death -Rape/non-con/dub-con (A/B/O works are considered dub-con) Other things such as phobias, body horror, blood, etc, should also be tagged. If you would tag it on AO3 or a social media post, tag it here. If unsure, ask a mod for help!

Rule #3: Be Creative. This space was made so that content creators may meet and interact with each other and with fans of transformative works. It is encouraged (but not mandatory) to participate in Lounge events and challenges. Use this space to discuss your content and ideas, share tips, ask questions, etc.

Rule #4: Be Kind. This is meant to be a community. Remember to encourage and support one another. Visible support such as reblogging/retweeting, commenting, giving kudos, etc., ought to be considered part of being a Lounger. Do not simply use this server (or myself) as your marketing platform. Self-promotion is not only encouraged, but expected. However, when you promote your work, stick around to throw some support and encouragement at others.

#the creative lounge #discord server #artists #writers #animators #podficcers #podcasters #gamers #ttrpg #multifandom

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minminyoonjii · 11 months

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Cg! Skz anon back again!

I am so obsessed with your writing! It is amazing, and I can't find anyone else who writes skz like you do! Absolute perfection

I had two ideas so you can take your pick or ignore both!

1) Skz having to punish little reader for the first time (usually good little one)

2) Different roles they take on for little one (like is someone more of a stern cg while someone else is the playtime one. Maybe someone who is charge of a schedule or rules?)

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

🧡Stray Kids Scenarios Masterlist

🌹CW

Fem! Reader|Age Regression|Wholesome|Domestic Settings|Fluffy|Tooth Rotting Sweet||Daddy! Chan|Mama! Minho|Baba! Changbin|Jinnie! Hyunjin|Appa! Jisung|Mommy! Felix|Dada! Seungmin|Ninnin! Jeongin|Sick! Fic|Confrontations|Disappointment|Don't Worry They Still Love You|Worried Caregivers|Guilt-Tugging|Again They Still Love You, Breathe

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 2K

"Daddy, look it's snowing!" you squealed, pressing your face against the glass. Chan chuckled, carrying you up "Oh, yeah? Do you want to go play baby?" he asked, kissing your cheek. You giggled, practically buzzing in his arms "Yes! Can we, Daddy?" you asked, anticipating his answer. Chan cooed, "Of course, we can, baby girl. Let's get you dressed all cosy for the snow," he said, tickling your tummy. Giggles split past your lips "Daddy, no," you squeaked. "Where are all these beautiful giggles coming from, hm?" Changbin asked, peeking his head into the room.

You gasped, a wide smile etched on your lips "Baba!" you cheered, squirming out of Chan's hold. Chan laughed, "Hang on, baby," he said, setting you down. Changbin gruffed, picking you up with ease "How's our little agi?" he asked, placing gentle pecks all over your face. You giggled, covering Changbin's lips with both of your hands. "Our little baby wants to play in the snow," Chan said, taking out your jackets and pants. Changbin licked your palm, making you shriek and pull your hands away "Oh really?" he asked, laughing as you wiped your hands on his shirt.

Chan hummed, "Yup, the snow hasn't frozen up so it should be powdery enough for her to roll around in," he said, putting the jacket over your shoulders. Changbin nodded, helping you stand on the bed for Chan to dress you up "I'll go see if any of the boys want to join," he said, ruffling your hair before walking out the door. You puffed your cheeks, blowing your hair away from your face. Chan chuckled, zipping up your jacket "C'mere baby girl, put your hand on my shoulder," he said, pulling thick pants up your legs. You wriggled, letting yourself get dressed.

Chan smiled, "Excited little baby, aren't you?" he said, pinching your cheek lightly. Felix knocked on the door, "Channie hyung, is our sunshine ready?" he asked, walking in. Chan nodded, "She's all dressed. Baby, why don't you go down with Mommy first? Daddy will get dressed and see you later, okay?" he said, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You nodded, crawling off the bed to Felix "See you later, Daddy!" you giggled, Chan laughed, shaking his head in endearment as you closed the door behind you. "What do you want to do in the snow first, sunshine?" he asked, tucking your hair behind your ears, and placing your ear muffs on.

"Hm, can we build a snowman, Mommy?" you asked, tilting your head. Felix cooed at how the bow on your ear muffs bounced with your movement "Definitely, sunshine," he said, leaning you to the backyard. "Tag!" a voice shouted, hurling a snowball right at Felix. He stumbled back slightly "I've been hit, sunshine. Avange me," he gasped dramatically. Your eyes widened, forming a snowball "I will avenge you, Mommy," you said, kissing Felix's cheek before jumping into the powdery snow. "Sweetheart, let's talk about this," Jisung said, raising his arms.

You paused, staring at him suspiciously "Speak and I'll think about it," you asked, holding your snowball in hand. Jisung bowed, "Thank you, our merciful sweet girl. I didn't mean to attack your Mommy, I was aiming for the sneaky ferret," he explained, pointing towards Hyunjin. A loud dramatic gasp came from the same direction "How dare you, I just did my hair this morning. Show him no mercy, lovely," Hyunjin said, crossing his arms. Jisung's eyes widened, "Don't listen to him, sweetheart. He's, he's lying," he stuttered in a panic. Hyunjin scoffed, "Why would I lie?" he retorted.

Jisung fumbled, "I-I how would I know!" he yelled, running out of options. You giggled, "Attack!" you shouted, throwing snowballs at Jisung. "Ow, sweetheart. Ouch, please reconsider!" he yelled, unable to run in the tall snow blanket. You laughed, making as many snowballs as you could throw. Minho chuckled, carrying you away from the snow "Alright, cupcake. Give your Appa a tiny break, you can attack him again after," he said, placing you on his lap. You nuzzled into Minho's arms "Mama brought snacks?" you asked, looking up at him. Minho smiled, "I did. Here, take a bite," he said, feeding you.

The day went by and slowly it became dark. "Okay, it's time to come in, munchkin," Seungmin said, leaning against the back door's frame. You frowned, "But Dada just a bit longer?" you pleaded, jutting your bottom lip. "It's getting late, angel," Jeongin said, lifting you up from the snow. You sulked, hooking your chin over Jeongin's shoulder. "Aww, angel. You can play again tomorrow, we promise," he said, rubbing your back. You whined, burying your face into the crook of Jeongin's neck "I want to play today," you huffed. '

Seungmin cooed, "How about this, muchkin? You go to bed early tonight and you can play the moment you wake up," he proposed, preparing your bath. You weren't happy with the decision but you nodded, "Okay, dada," you mumbled, letting Jeongin remove your snow clothes. Seungmin smiled, "That's our sweet girl," he praised, kissing your forehead. Jeongin chuckled, helping you in the bath "Such a precious little angel," he said, lathering your body in soap. You melted under Jeongin's care, thoughts running through your head 'I'm going to play today,' you thought, determined by your decision.

Night came and everyone in the house fell asleep, except for one little girl wide awake in her bed. You looked at your plush "It's time," you whispered, wearing your thickest blanket, thinking it'll be enough to save you from the cold. Your plush shook its head 'This isn't a good idea,' it said, watching you in worry. "It'll be fine, it's just a bit longer," you rationalised. Your plush sighed, 'I still don't have a good feeling about this,' it mumbled, unable to do anything but watch you sneak out of your room. "Have to be quiet," you whispered to yourself, tip-toeing down the stairs to the back door,

You carefully opened the door, making sure it wouldn't squeak before jumping into the snow blanket. The snow was colder than you remembered and the thick blanket you had around you wasn't helping as much as you thought. After rolling around for a bit, your body began to shiver, and puffs of cold warm air escaped your lips in gusts of smoke. "Too cold," you said, teeth chattering from the drop in temperature. You waddled your way back into the house, tossing your thick blanket into the laundry where the other snow clothes were, and began to tip-toe back up to your room.

Your plush sat on your bed, waiting 'Was it worth it?' it asked, looking at your shivering figure. You nodded, changing into warm clothes, "Yup, all worth it," you slurred, burying yourself under your thick duvet.

Morning came. Chan woke up, eyebrows furrowing at the alarm system on his phone flashing "What?" he mumbled, blinking himself awake. He clicked on the app, finding out about your little nighttime endeavour. Chan sighed, disappointed by your actions "What am I going to do about you, little one?" he asked himself, getting out of bed. He went down the stairs to see that Seungmin and Minho were awake, sipping on their coffee. "A little snow princess decided to pay us a visit last night," Chan said, handing Minho his phone. Minho frowned, "She did not," he said in disbelief. Chan hummed, "She did," he clarified, passing his phone to Seungmin.

Minho set his mug down "What if a wild animal decided to jump into our backyard? What if someone noticed her and took her away? God," he rambled, millions of what if's filled his head. Seungmin sighed, "I don't think she was thinking it through. I mean, of course, she wasn't thinking it through. Are we too lenient to her as caregivers?" he asked, internally doubting himself. Chan frowned, "No, she has always been good and the things we reward her are always deserved. It's just that this time, she didn't know the consequences of her actions," he said, reassuring Seungmin.

Hyunjin walked down, pausing at the entrance of the kitchen "Why is it so tense in here?" he asked, hair in disarray. Chan pressed his tongue against his inner cheek, handing his phone to Hyunjin. Soon everyone in the house knew about your winter adventure. You woke up panting, body burning with a fever. Weak whimpers echoed within the room as you held your plush tight. Chan knocked on your door, already deciding with the rest of the boys that your punishment would be to stay inside for the rest of the week. You whined, uncomfortable by how warm your body was becoming even though you felt your skin was chilly.

Chan opened your door, "Are you awake, baby?" he asked, walking up to your bed. "Daddy," you sobbed, tears streaming down your cheeks. Chan panicked, rushing towards you "Oh baby girl. Look's like you caught yourself a fever," he said, touching your forehead and neck. You whined, huffing out puffs of warm air. Chan walked to your door "Minho, we have a problem!" he shouted from the top of the stairs. "What's going on?" Minho shouted back, raising an eyebrow. "Our little girl got herself a nasty fever," Chan explained, running his fingers through his hair.

Minho cursed under his breath "Okay, I'll prepare the kit and let the boys bring them up to you," he said, taking out the forehead patches, panadol pills, and a warm bottle of water. "Bring this up first," Minho said, instructing Jeongin and Jisung. They nodded, "Got it, hyung," Jisung said, following Jeongin up the stairs. "Yongbok-ah, do you mind helping me with the chicken soup?" he asked, looking at Felix. "I don't mind, hyung. Just tell me what you need," Felix said, tying his hair up. Minho chuckled, taking out the stock from the freezer "Thaw this for now," he instructed, having Felix the container.

You furrowed your eyebrows, focusing on something else that isn't your discomfort. "Sweetheart if you only stayed inside last night," Jisung mumbled, making a slip of the tongue. Your eyes widened, "Huh?" you whispered, clutching your plush tight. Jisung purses his lips, slowly backing out of the room. Chan blinked, sighing "Baby girl, we know you went out last night," he said, running his fingers through your damp hair. You stayed silent, staring up at him with a guilty look. Chan frowned, "I can't say I'm not disappointed, baby," he said, stroking your cheek.

"I'm sorry," you whined, guilt eating you up. "I know you are, little one. I'm sure your fever is making that known to you," he said, booping your nose. You wrinkled your nose, burying your face into your plush. "Your punishment was supposed to be that you're grounded inside for the week, but it looks like you're bedridden either way," Chan said, running his hand up the back of your neck to push your hair. You pouted, feeling guilty and icky. Jeongin patted your stomach "You have to realize that what you did last night was a terrible idea, angel. This is far from the worst-case scenario," he explained, brushing your hair away from your face.

Tears began to well up again this time from the guilt, building in your heart. Minho walked in with a bowl of soup "Why is my pretty cupcake crying, hm?" he asked, setting the soup on your bedside table. You hiccupped, "I'm sorry I went out, Mama," you cried, weakly nuzzling yourself on Minho's lap. Minho cooed, holding you close "You had us all worried when we saw the footage, cupcake," he said, drawing more guilt-filled sobs from you. Minho held you tight, "I'm sure you learnt your lesson, didn't you sweet thing?" he asked, wiping your tears.

You nodded, tears spilling endlessly. Minho smiled, "That's good, cupcake. Your punishment is just this whole week, no more sneaking out to play in the cold snow, okay?" he asked, stroking your splotchy cheeks. You nodded, curling up against Minho's chest. "We'll take care of you our precious little girl," he said, rocking your sniffling figure.

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julysn · 4 months

Text

nothing looks the same in the light | a julysn xclusive.

ship: kyle broflovski x reader.

character(s): kyle broflovski, reader, ike broflovski (comes in around the end)

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual romance, aged-up characters, high school, enemies to lovers, secret crushes, love confessions, mild gore, somewhat ooc kyle, also ike is being a little shit hes 13.

warnings: rated T for cursing and mild gore.

summary: you get mugged and beaten up, left alone in a dark alleyway. you get lost in thought when suddenly, your crush worst enemy appears to rescue you.

other notes: gn reader, kinda corny.

word count: ≈3300

spotify playlist: here

a/n: crossposted from ao3

also pls give me suggestions.. first fic on tumblr HIIII is this aesthetically appealing would y’all read.. anyways i wrote this on impulse so it might be kinda bad?? but i had an idea and i tried..

kyle isn’t perfectly in character (i think). everything’s more fun when its slightly ooc imo !

posted while i’m at school… kinda rushed

You had just gotten into one of the bloodiest, most gruesome fights of your life

You were walking home from school, wanting to just go home and sit in your bed and use your phone until your parents reminded you of your homework. You had just wanted to stare at the wall, trying to fall asleep early, so you wouldn’t wake up late tomorrow.

But those plans —could they even be considered plans?— were interrupted when you were suddenly whisked away into the dark, beaten and mugged. Your backpack and phone were stolen; hell, even your dignity and pride had been snatched too.

Should I be embarrassed or annoyed?

You glanced down at your body, staring down at each and every injury that blanketed your figure. Bruises littered your usually clean and well-kept body, and blood dripped down from your nose and onto your weak hands as you sat against the brick wall of the empty alleyway.

Your breathing was ragged and heavy, as tears spilled down from your eyes to your cheeks. Your teeth were clenched, the pain swarming your fragile figure. I shouldn't have gone this way when I was walking home from school, you mused. Bad decision. Maybe bad is an understatement.

You were sitting all alone, bloodied and bruised, with potentially no one around to help except for your thoughts to offer mental support. Of course, this had to happen to you.

You were unlucky. Very unlucky. Maybe even the unluckiest person in all of Colorado.

Your luck has always been horrible since.. what, forever? You were always the first one out in dodgeball—always going out in the most embarrassing ways. Like the time Eric Cartman hit you in the face and as you were walking to sit down on the bleachers, you tripped on your shoelace and fell face-first. You earned two new bruises that day.

Your unlucky streak didn't end there, though. You always found ways to trip or fall over nothing. There was that one time you were in the cafeteria and you stood up to walk over and get a napkin, but you tripped over the air in front of your foot. You fell face-first into the floor, your shoe flying off your foot and into the air. You swore it did a backflip as it landed on the floor, and your friends burst out laughing... Needless to say, the memory still haunts you to this day.

There were countless stories that your family, friends, or even classmates could recite of you and your horrible luck embarrassing you in different ways. Woeful, isn't it?

You were sinking deeper and deeper into your thoughts until you heard some voices outside of the alleyway. Your head perked up, attempting to decipher the identities behind the ones who were speaking. However, they weren't being too loud, and you still couldn't figure out if you knew them or not.

Who's over there?

Luckily, you didn't have to force your weak body to stand up and walk over to answer that question. One of the ones in the group saw you in the alley and pushed away their friends to check on you.

Once your tired, sad eyes could finally process the sight before you, your jaw dropped to the core of the Earth. Figuratively, and hell, probably literally. Your jaw unhinged at who was standing in front of you, with a look of concern so surprising you almost pinched yourself to figure out if you were in a dream. Your eyes widened immensely. Your blinking went rapid. You were surprised (obviously).

"Kyle..?" You asked weakly, your soft and teary eyes looking up to see him. He was usually annoyed when you were around, so why did he look... genuinely concerned? I’ve never seen him this worried about anything. Do I mean something, or am I just overthinking it?

“Y/N? God, what the hell happened to you?” Kyle exclaimed, his eyes widened and eyebrows furrowed as he tentatively reached out to see your bruises. You reluctantly shuffled a bit, positioning yourself for him to see the majority of the injuries you had sustained. One of his hands reached out to gently brush away your tears, and you felt your heart pound in your chest at the intimate contact.

“I got mugged.” You sighed, pressing your lips together to form a straight line as your eyes darted away from his, not wanting to see the look of worry etched onto his features. His lips curled into a frown as he heard your words, feeling sorry for you. “Besides, why do you care? Do I look like a damsel in distress?”

”Yes.”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, clenching your teeth in irritation and pain as he examined your wounds. You had some cuts on your arms and neck, but mostly just purple and blue bruises were scattered across your figure.

This was a very unusual scenario—you were practically being rescued by your worst enemy. The two of you have hated each other since elementary school... maybe even preschool. And yet, in a time of desperation and need, he was the one to offer you care and comfort.

It makes sense why he’s being nice to me, I guess. If I saw my worst enemy like this, I’d take care of them too unless my worst enemy was Eric Cartman. I’d leave him there.

However, while one part of you was completely caught off guard by his sudden kindness and care, another side felt giddy and excited. Why? Because you had slowly begun to develop feelings for him over the past year and a half.

It sounded cliche, but Kyle was just irresistible. In your eyes, he was so gorgeous and kind (usually not to you). You liked him for not just his looks or personality but for his intelligence and talents.

Everything about him was perfect in your eyes. Everything, You admired each and every little feature that he had. The tiny, almost unnoticeable stitches around his mouth, his stunning emerald eyes, and those soft red curls that usually hid underneath his hat... you especially loved his hair.

One day, Kyle had shown up to school without his ushanka, and he looked so good. You swore the clouds parted just for the sun to admire his beauty, and that it was less cold—like he was an angel who had blessed the entirety of South Park.

That day was probably the best day of your life—the rivalry between the two of you wasn’t as strong or as harsh, school was quite easy that day (or maybe you were actually paying attention in class.), and things just felt... better. It sounds stupid, but that was the effect he had on you.

God, he’s gorgeous. And his personality? Even better-

”C’mon.” Kyle sighed gently, popping your thought bubble. He stood back up, seemingly having finished examining your wounds, He held out his hand for you to take, and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you blinked for a couple of seconds, bewildered. What are his motives?

“Wait, where are you taking me?” You asked, staring at his open hand in suspicion. Kyle sighed and shoved his other hand into his pocket, his hand still stretched out towards you.

”My house, I guess. I need to bandage your wounds, and I don’t have a first aid kit on me.” He shrugged, pulling his hand away from you and placing it into his pocket. You contemplated the offer, thinking about the possibilities.

What if something happens while he’s taking care of me? Maybe he’ll kiss my bruises to soothe them... or maybe he’ll kiss me. I bet this is gonna be so damn romantic.

”Yeah, sure. I need it, anyways...” You weakly chuckled, letting out an awkward laugh as Kyle did the same. He held out a hand for you to grab onto, and you winced as you held his hand as he helped you to your feet.

The two of you walked down the street, your weak figure leaning against his as his warm, calloused hand lay on your waist. His presence was immensely comforting, and you found solace in the fact that he was being nice to you for a bit. Even if his kindness was temporary, it was heartwarming.

The walk was quite peaceful, steps slow and quiet as Kyle held you against him so you wouldn’t fall or trip. You winced as you felt his hand brush against one of your clothed bruises, and he immediately noticed your discomfort and moved his hand downwards so as not to hurt you further.

It was a partly cloudy afternoon in South Park, the chilly Colorado winds brushing against your (now bruised) cheeks like usual. The silence between you and Kyle was pretty soothing, as the two of you could sink deeper into your thoughts without it being awkward or uncomfortable.

Finally, after what felt like an hour of walking (but was only a few minutes), the two of you reached his house. His house was painted dark green with a detached garage, and the front door was painted coffee brown. You sighed, as he took you inside and led you to the kitchen.

”So, uh..” Kyle began, as he turned to glance at you while his hands rummaged through the medicine cabinet. He pulled out some bandages, before stepping over to you. He hopped onto the countertop beside you and leaned downward as his hands carefully wiped off the blood from a slit you had received on your arm. “How the hell did you get mugged?”

”I. I dunno.” You grimaced weakly, blinking back tears of pain as he wiped away the blood on all of the cuts you had. Kyle noticed this and he brushed away the tears with his fingertips, and you felt yourself melt underneath his sweet actions. His touch was delicate. Caring. He was being so kind, and your heart fluttered inside your chest. “But, uh. I’m fine, you don't have to—“

“Y/N, you’re not fine.” Kyle sighed, balling up the tissues smeared with blood and tossing them into a trashcan. He gazed into your eyes with a soft, caring look. The two of you held eye contact for a few seconds before he snapped out of it and picked up some Neosporin. You yawned and watched as he gently rubbed the cream into the bruises and around some of the cuts, as gently as ever. "Just let me bandage you, alright?"

You felt yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with him at his tender, attentive behavior. He was perfect. Astronomically attractive. Everything someone would want in a man. No words in the English dictionary could describe the amount of love you had stored in your heart for him.

Kyle Broflovski was the man of your dreams.

As the two of you sat there, your mind was flooded with a hurricane of thoughts. Did he like you back? Was he just being nice or is this his way of spending time with you? Are you overthinking it? Why was he being so nice to you? Did he have ulterior motives?

You had to ask.

“.. Why are you being so sweet to me?” You asked quietly, voice bashful and sheepish as you looked up from your lap to face him. Kyle was working diligently to wrap bandages around the cuts, and god he looked good. His narrowed eyes as he focused, his parted lips... You shook your head gently to distract yourself from these very thoughts.

"I feel bad," Kyle admits, looking up at you as he leaned back and took a deep breath. Pearls of sweat dripped down from his forehead, and he slipped off his jacket and ruffled his hair as he looked over your arm to see if he missed any cuts he needed to bandage. He yawned and ruffled his hair, and you couldn't help but admire the way his hand ran through those gorgeous curls of his. He's perfect. But he isn't mine.

He was the one guy you wanted so badly, yet you thought he was out of reach. Whenever Wendy and Bebe would drag you to basketball games because they wanted to see their boyfriends and not go alone, you couldn't help but sneak glances at your crush enemy.

The way Kyle would practically destroy the court with skill was the most attractive thing you've ever seen.

Unfortunately, 1/3 of the attendees from other schools would agree with you. You had seen many people, both girls, and guys, eyeing him with interest in their eyes. He had many admirers, mostly from other schools—you were probably the only one in the school who found him attractive, unless he had secret admirers... Of course, you always felt a rush of jealousy fill your veins whenever you saw someone try to gain his interest, but luckily, he was only focused on winning the games.

Everyone was aware that he had many "fangirls and fanboys" at other schools, as many even joked about it. Lighthearted, amusing stories of his “simps” were passed around during lunch for people to have a soft laugh about.

But, his worst admirer had to be you. You were down horrendous. The quick, sneaky glances towards him during class. How you would go home and sit on your bed, laying on your stomach, index finger twirling your hair while your other hand held your phone as you scrolled through his Instagram, blushing and giggling.

And not to mention the occasional unholy dreams that had overcome your thoughts for the rest of the day due to their vivid and exciting nature...

You were down enormously.

Your train of thought came to a halt as you felt the bandage meeting your other arm. Kyle had finished working on your right arm, and he had moved to sit on your left arm. The feeling of the fabric hitting your skin once more brought you back to reality, and the awkward silence was… well, awkward as hell.

And so, the two of you continued to sit in silence as Kyle worked delicately on the injuries you had sustained. The quiet atmosphere was beginning to feel comforting, instead of awkward. Your ears filled with the quiet sound of the both of you breathing, and it was a beautiful moment.

That was, until a black-haired freckled kid who looked to be around 12-13 years old walked in. His jaw immediately dropped at the sight of you two on the counter, in a bit of an intimate position as both your faces were just inches apart. It almost looked like the two of you were a couple, with the way you were so close.

”Holy shit!” The freckled kid shrieked, his jaw practically at the core of the Earth as he processed the sight before him. He blinked rapidly, trying to make sure this was real and not just a hallucination or anything. “Kyle, you and Y/N finally fucked?!”

“Finally?” You raise an eyebrow, your suspicions close to being confirmed. Finally... does finally mean that— No, I need to interrogate this kid. “How do you even know my name?”

“Kyle talks about you all the time,” The young teen smirked teasingly, though it was evident that he was still in shock. He slowly approached the two of you, a hilariously wicked smile on his face as he crossed his arms. Meanwhile, Kyle’s cheeks faded into a bright tint of red that rivaled his hair.

“No, I don’t—“

Kyle’s protests were cut off as the kid interjected, giggling furiously. It was evident that Kyle was trying to deny it, but his flushed cheeks and death stare toward the freckled kid made it a bit obvious that what he was saying was true. "My brother has the biggest crush on you. He shows me your Instagram posts all the time—"

Your jaw dropped. Your eyes widened. Your breath caught in your throat. So, according to this random little kid, the love of your life liked you back.

"Ike, get out," Kyle growled, finally putting a name to the face before you. Ike simply let out a mischievous giggle as he shot the both of you a wink, turning around and leaving the kitchen. for the both of you. You sighed, completely dumbfounded by what had just occurred.

"Was what he said true?" You asked quietly, blinking rapidly. Your heart pounded in your chest, your stomach filled with butterflies. This was probably the best day of your life, had it not been for the fact that you were mugged.

”… Yeah.” Kyle admitted, his cheeks bright red and lips pressed together to form a straight line, feeling quite awkward now that the truth was out. "I've had a crush on you for about, uh.. 9 months now."

You thought you were about to explode. You felt a tsunami of emotions wash over you, as you felt so giddy yet shocked. Your heart was beating real fast, and you could swear it skipped some beats too. Butterflies flooded your stomach, and you could barely identify your true feelings about all of this. The news had practically flipped your world upside down, leaving you completely breathless and disoriented.

"Am I dreaming? Kyle, pinch me. Do something so I know I’m awake." You pondered aloud, feeling the last bandage being applied to your cuts as Kyle finally pulled away, avoiding your gaze with embarrassment in his emerald eyes. He was unsure if you liked him back—after all, the two of you were known to be worst enemies. Silently, he was begging, pleading, praying that you reciprocated.

Instead of pinching you, however, Kyle decided to do a little more than that. He gently picked up your hands, slipping his palm into yours as your fingers intertwined, and took a deep breath as he leaned in. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized what was happening, and you decided to lean in too.

The two of you shared a soft, short kiss, one full of affection and tenderness. The kiss was quick yet passionate, and you felt yourself longing for more as he finally pulled away.

I really hope this isn't a dream.

You needed more of Kyle's sweet, delicate lips, so, you quickly leaned in and gave him a gentle peck on the lips. He smiled into the kiss, squeezing your hands as you both sat on the counter, staring at each other in silence. The absence of words made the tranquil moment more divine, and you wanted this to last forever.

“… So, are we dating now, or..?” Kyle asked shyly, his tone slightly awkward but still warmhearted and soothing. You giggled at how he said it, but another part of you was literally about to start screaming and jumping up and down in excitement.

“Yeah,” You nodded, and in turn, he wrapped his arms around your neck and pulled you into a tight embrace. You buried your face into his neck, savoring the moment while it lasted.

You hugged him tightly, wanting nothing more than to just stay in his arms forever. You wished time could stop so you could live in this moment for eternity. His arms felt so comforting around yours, as his fingers gently brushed against your bandages.

You felt Kyle’s lips brush against your temple, and your heart fluttered in happiness. This was it. We’re finally together now.

“Are you two— Woah.” Ike interrupted as he walked back into the kitchen, hands in his pockets as he processed what he was seeing. “Ew! Get a room, you two!”

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writerscurse · 2 years

Text

In the Eye of the Storm | Aemond Targaryen x reader | Chapter 1

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!reader

Word count: 2,577

Summary: You’re visiting King’s Landing with your family to reaffirm your younger brother Lucerys’ birthright as the rightful heir to Driftmark. During your stay, you reconnect with Aemond Targaryen. You had once been friends, but that was long ago. And the man in front of you now, is not the shy kid you used to know. Can you reconcile despite your differences or will the rift between your families break you apart?

Warnings/tags: Incest (it’s the Targaryens), slow burn, fluff, angst, violence, death, smut

A/N: Most of the smut (also most violence and the death of a character) happens towards the end of the story. So if that’s what you’re after and you like the story, please stick around. The first chapter is more of an introduction. Reader and Aemond will interact more further down the line, I promise.

A/N: Reader is Rhaenyra’s daughter. I tried my best not to describe her body, besides the typical Targaryen silver hair and violet eyes. It’s not stated who her father is, so it could be Daemon, Laenor or Harwin, depending on your preference.

All works are my own. Please don’t copy, plagiarize, post on other websites or translate.

The ship was rocking softly beneath you as you looked upon the shores of your home. You were excited to see King’s Landing again. While you enjoyed the peace that came with Dragonstone, you still missed the bustle of the Red Keep. You missed the lively streets, that you had roamed countless times when you snuck out of the castle. You missed training with your brothers and uncles in the courtyard. You even missed the fights a little. That is, because you were never the victim of the constant bullying and insults. Thanks to your long, silver hair and violet eyes, nobody dared to question your legitimacy. You’d proven to be strong and valuable to the realm when you had claimed Vermithor as your dragon at a young age. And with your mother Rhaenyra not paying much attention to traditions, you’d been allowed to practise your sword fighting skills with your siblings all your life. After all, the heir to the Iron Throne should be able to protect herself and the realm.

As the ship docked, you were impatient to climb up the steps to the Red Keep. As you reached the gates, you felt a wave of pure bliss wash over you. This really was your home.

‘Jace! Luke! Come on, let’s explore the Keep!’, you shouted at them and they came running after you while Rhaenyra and Daemon made their way up to your grandfather, King Viserys’ chambers.

Together you walked around the castle, reminiscing about the times you had spent there as young children. Studying your family’s history, learning how to take care of and ride a dragon and sparring with your uncles.

As you headed into the courtyard, you could hear the sounds of swords clashing and felt the cool breeze blowing in your hair.

‘Smaller than I remember’, Luke announced and he and Jace ran off. You stayed back for a moment taking in the scenery from atop the stairs. Knights and guards training their skills, a smith was working on creating new weaponry for the King’s Guard. A few ladies came by, enjoying their afternoon walk.

And that’s when you saw him. His feet swiftly moved as he fought Ser Criston Cole. A crowd had started to form around them, watching their every move. He grew, you thought to yourself. No resemblance to that young, hurt boy from when you still lived here. The boy, so desperate to have his own dragon, to prove himself, to rule even. And you, the firstborn daughter with no interest in any of the power or responsibility that was placed upon you.

You had always gotten along surprisingly well. Both feeling like outsiders that didn’t want the roles that you had to play. But you hated how cruel he was to your younger brothers. You couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. He elegantly dodged Ser Criston’s attempts to hit him, his hair flowing in the wind with every move. He looked powerful and menacing. And his eyepatch only added to the mystery that seemed to surround him.

You smiled softly as you watched him and walked down the stairs to join the crowd. Luke and Jace were making their way through the folk watching the fight. They seemed intrigued. You figured they probably hadn’t noticed yet who this was. And just when you had caught up to them, standing right behind your brothers, Aemond pointed his sword to Ser Criston’s neck and the crowd applauded. A smirk covered your face, watching him being victorious over the man who had trained you both when you were younger. It was impressive, really. The last time you had tried to fight Ser Criston, you ended up with your head in the dirt.

‘Nephews. Have you come to train?’, his words brought you back to reality.

‘No’, you stated, looking him right in the eye, ‘but I have.’

This was the first time he noticed you. You could feel your heart skip a beat as he glanced at you. His eye glistened with recognition and you could see the faintest smile cover his face. It was barely noticeable, but you knew that deep down, he was excited to see you.

‘Princess Y/N. I could never harm a beautiful lady, such as yourself’, he mused and walked closer to you. You noticed your brothers hurriedly moving out of the way, desperately trying to avoid their uncle. But you were intrigued by him and his actions. You felt his gloved hand taking yours and he bowed slightly before you, bringing your hand up to his lips and leaving a soft kiss on your knuckles.

‘Harm me? I doubt you could, even if you tried’, you laugh. You knew he was stronger than you, and much quicker. Back in Dragonstone, you used to sometimes practise with your brothers, or even with Daemon. But all of that was harmless fun and Aemond’s reputation as a skilled swordsman preceded him.

‘Ser Criston, pass me your sword’, you commanded.

‘My lady, it would be improper…’, he responded, a worried look on his face.

‘You heard the princess. Give her the sword’, Aemond demanded without taking his eye off you.

Reluctantly, the knight stepped closer, passing his sword to you and taking a step back into the crowd. A cocky smirk formed on Aemond’s face as he turned around and walked a few steps ahead of you.

‘You know, princess, you can still…’, was all he managed to say before you elaborately turned, swinging your sword and bringing it down towards his shoulder.

For a mere moment, you could see surprise in your uncle’s eye, but he was quick. His sword found its way to meet yours, the sound of clinking metal engulfing you both. Aemond ducked under your arms, forcing you to turn and dodge his repeated attacks until you managed to spin around and dive out of his way.

You started feeling confident. And that was your mistake. As you charged at him, Aemond effortlessly grabbed your right wrist with his left hand, twisting it in a way that forced you to drop your sword. He then pulled you into him, your back firmly pressed against his chest and his arm wrapped around your waist. He kept holding onto your wrist, making sure to keep you in place before he slowly raised his sword to your neck, a triumphant grin covering his face.

Gently, Aemond leaned down until his lips were right next to your ear.

‘I believe, I win’, he whispered, only for you to hear and goosebumps ran down your spine.

‘Let me go’, you mutter back, frustrated at your loss and at how your body betrayed your stubborn mind.

‘Mmh, I don’t believe so. But perhaps I could be convinced.’

And with that he sheathed his sword and his grip on your wrist loosened, slowly turning you around to face him. Your bodies were inches apart from each other and he kept staring down at you, his eye patch making him more menacing than you could’ve ever imagined.

This was a game, you realised. He was playing with you and he loved every second of it. But you were not having it. So using the best weapon any woman had, you lifted your hands up to his shoulders and leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek, just below his scar.

You could feel his body tense up and a small gasp exited his lips. He had not expected that. He was caught so off guard, that you could take a step back from him without any resistance.

‘I believe that should be a fair price for my freedom. Don’t you think so, my prince?’, you innocently batted your eyes at him.

He hummed slightly before looking around and becoming aware of the fact that all eyes were on you both.

‘Don’t you have anything better to do? Go. Leave us’, he growled and the crowd immediately dispersed, not wanting to anger their prince any more. You turned and saw your brothers walking away with the rest of the noblemen, giving you a worried look. You smiled, briefly letting them know that you would be okay.

And then you were all alone in the, otherwise so lively, courtyard.

‘It is good to see you again, Y/N’, Aemond leisurely stated. His demeanour had changed, now that you were alone. There was a warmth in his eye that not many people ever got to see. You were transported back to your childhood right away.

He was a small kid back then. Shy and easily scared. Aegon and your brothers would often mock him for this. But you had shown him kindness that he never fully understood. You had scolded your brothers and wacked Aegon over the head when they pulled that nasty prank with the pig. You had sat by his side after he lost his eye, holding his hand all night.

But then your ways parted. For years to come, you did not see each other or even speak. Having him stand in front of you felt like you were finally whole again. You were home.

Without wasting another word, you closed the gap between you two and wrapped your arms around his waist. He hesitated for a second, not fully processing what was happening before melting into your embrace and resting his arms on the small of your back.

‘I have missed you, Aemond’, you whispered and felt him resting his head on yours, a content hum escaping his lips.

But it didn’t take long for life to slowly return to the courtyard. Aemond might be the prince, but the servants still had jobs to do and needed the courtyard on their way in and out of the Red Keep. As the first people came walking by, you felt him tense up in your arms. He finally let go of you, taking a step back but motioning for you to come and follow him.

You strolled through the halls of the castle for a while, keeping distance between you as anything else would be considered improper. You noticed that Aemond was awfully quiet, his demeanour was cold, his jaw clenched. So you tried to break the silence between you.

‘You’ve grown rather skilled with the sword, my prince’, you looked up at him, trying to keep formalities in place, in case someone crossed your path.

‘Rather skilled’, he mocks you, sounding amused. ‘I could have killed you mere minutes ago’, Aemond declared, not bothering to look at you.

You sighed, ‘Aemond, you don’t have to act like this around me, you know?’

A flash of something dark appeared in his eye and he turned to you, his voice low. ‘Act like this?’, he spat, anger taking over as he pushed you into the wall. His arm across your chest and the weight of his body pressed against yours, keeping you firmly in place.

‘This is who I am’, he growled, ‘This is who I became after that bastard brother of yours took out my eye. After years of threats and insults. After you had left me. Nobody dares to cross me these days. They’re too afraid of Aemond One-Eye.’

His breathing was heavy and his eye filled with fury as he stared down at you. But you noticed something else. Deep down under all this anger, there was pain. You could see it in the way he looked at you. He was hurting and you wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold him. But he was stronger than you.

‘I am not scared of you’, you said patiently, hoping he would understand the full meaning behind your words.

A frustrated groan escaped his lips and he pushed himself off you, walking a few steps back. He was pacing through the corridor, annoyed with whatever was going on inside him, as you both heard footsteps approaching you.

‘My prince. Princess’, the knight bowed, ‘you’re both expected in the throne room. Petitions are already being heard.’

The man looked out of breath and Aemond let out a tired sigh.

‘Thank you, my lord. We’re on our way’, he told the guard and you both began moving right away.

While you hurried towards the throne room, you glanced at Aemond whenever you could. He was frustrated, but tried not to show it. His face was still frozen and he avoided even acknowledging your presence next to him at all. All closeness that you once shared had vanished as you both rushed down the long corridors.

Then finally, you had reached the great hall. Two guards pushed the doors open and you both stepped inside, side by side. It seemed that all hell had broken loose as soon as you entered the scene.

You could just about see Daemon pull out his sword and step up behind Vaemond who was shouting about your brothers being bastards. And then within the blink of an eye, he fell to the ground.

You let out a small shriek, as you watched Daemon behead him and immediately felt Aemond’s hand behind your back, pulling you into his chest and away from the scene. You were grateful for him protecting you from the sight, but started blushing at the sudden closeness to him. His fingers were buried in your hair and he kept you steadily in place. You noticed the faint scent of sandalwood and hints of patchouli engulfing you and couldn’t help but let out a content hum. Clearly, you weren’t very good at hiding it. He chuckled lightly when he noticed what you were doing. It was a rough sound, almost as if he hadn’t used it in years. And it had caught the attention of your families. All eyes were on you now.

Then with a swift move, he let you go and moved towards his mother and siblings.

‘I apologise for being late, mother. I escorted Princess Y/N on a walk through the castle’, he announced while moving towards Alicent with confident strides.

You could feel both your mother and the queen stare at you as you straightened your dress and slowly walked up to the throne. You stopped just behind Vaemond’s lifeless body and awkwardly curtsied before King Viserys, doing your best to ignore the gruesome sight in front of you.

After paying your respect to the king, you joined your family, standing behind your brothers, who were still both a little shorter than you. You could feel your mother’s eyes burning into your skin, but you decided it was best to ignore her for now and avoid any further attention.

Once everyone had settled down again, you continued to listen to the king reaffirming Lucerys as the rightful heir to Driftmark and watched him declare that the family shall dine together tonight.

Both your brothers tensed up at the news that they would have to spend their evening alongside the people who had insulted them their entire lives. You, on the other hand, felt a wave of excitement at the prospect of spending the whole evening with Aemond and glanced in his direction. His demeanour was still frozen when he followed his mother leaving the room, but you caught him throwing a brief glance at you as they walked past.

Not all hope was lost then, you thought to yourself. You were convinced that somewhere behind this arrogant shell, the kind boy you grew up with was still there.

Go to Chapter 2.

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