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aperrywilliams · 21 hours

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If Anything, I Find it Educative (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Spencer is not happy attending the annual FBI Gala this year. Having to socialize with a woman who only wants to seduce him makes it worse. But one not-so-fortunate incident could improve his night somehow.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: Awkward Spencer. Morgan is stubborn about Spencer getting 'game.' Spencer spills facts about seafood (oysters), human biting, and cheating. Mention to Spencer's dick (only a phrase). Someone choking on food is described. A toxic relationship and job insecurities are described too. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: Okay, people. This is kind of an experiment: I want to know how you think the relationship between Spencer and Reader might evolve (if it evolves at all). Good friends? Romantic relationship rom-com style? An angsty romantic relationship? Friends to lovers? Just lovers? What important things do you imagine could happen to them? (canon or not). What could be the Reader's whole back story?

This is just a one-shot, but I am considering continuing it based on your thoughts and suggestions.

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Spencer's POV

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There are few things I hate more than being surrounded by many people at an event. Standing in the middle of a crowded party dressed in formal attire is one of them.

It is an uncomfortable occasion highlighted by uncomfortable clothes.

And this time, it's Hotch's fault.

Tonight, I should have been at home, wrapped in a cozy blanket and enjoying my new edition of War and Peace. But the annual FBI gala and Hotch's adamant request blew my plans.

"Strauss wants to see the whole team at the venue this year. And we are in a very thin line with her to ignore her wishes."

No one seemed conflicted with the idea of attending this fancy party. Even some of my teammates looked excited about it. While JJ and Garcia chatted animatedly for days about what dress they would choose, Morgan saw it as a chance to get to know the new female agents working at Counterterrorism. Rossi only wanted to know how good the scotch would be this year, and Prentiss took it as an excuse to have free drinks. For his part, Hotch seemed as calm as any day at work.

But me? I wasn't excited at all.

Reluctantly, I purchased a tuxedo for the gala. At first, I thought about renting one since I would hardly use it again. But my germophobic self made me think again, and I decided the expense would at least make me feel less uncomfortable.

Keyword: a little less uncomfortable.

Now, I'm standing at the entrance, scanning the venue, searching for a familiar face. The place is packed with agents from all divisions and their plus ones, so it's hard to find anything at all.

But a familiar voice pulls me from my struggle.

"Boy genius! Over here!"

Penelope is calling my name from a table in the corner. As my gaze lands on her, I can see Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Hotch there too.

A sigh of relief escapes my lips, and quickly, I stroll where my teammates are.

"Spence! You made it!" JJ greets me as I pull a chair next to Morgan to sit.

"We thought you weren't coming," Emily added before sipping her drink.

"I understood it was a requirement," I quipped, looking at Hotch. The aforementioned man nodded in agreement.

"It was, indeed. Have I to remind you Strauss is still mad about the whole ordeal with you stepping into a building with no vest and no gun?"

Hotch is right. Strauss made his life hell for a whole week until he notified my suspension.

I wince, remembering the incident in question.

Self-note: don't leave behind the vest and the gun again.

"You look very handsome, boy wonder," Garcia chimes, waving her hand and pointing at me.

I can't help but blush at the compliment. It's not she hasn't done it before, and I know she means well, but-

"Maybe pretty boy gets some game tonight," Morgan claps his hand on my shoulder, grinning.

That's why I don't like that kind of attention. At every chance, someone pips up and tries to play wingman or wingwoman for me. And although I appreciate their efforts, I like to move at my own pace. Even if some say my pace, it's more like a turtle's speed.

Giving him a tight-lip smile, I reach for a glass of water. I don't know how I'll survive this night.

Surprisingly, it is okay for now. I fall into conversation with Garcia and JJ, although it is more like me listening and them talking. Occasionally, I add some to the topic, and they seem receptive.

But Derek looks impatient to stand and march to a group of women talking on the opposite side of the venue, next to the bar. I don't look much into it until I feel his hand on my shoulder.

"You're oddly quiet tonight, pretty boy. What's up?" My sight darts from JJ and Penelope to Derek.

"Nothing?" I offer. My eyebrows creace. Derek snickers.

"I know what you need! Come on, let's enjoy the party and come with me to chat with those beautiful agents at the bar over there," he proposes. I shake my head.

"No. I'm good. You can go if you want. I don't think you need my help."

Derek rolls his eyes.

"Don't get dismissive with me. It'll help you to lose a little. I promise," he insists. And I know I'm losing my battle with him tonight.

"As if I had something interesting to say to them," I mumble, loud enough for Derek to hear.

"Don't say that. Surely, some would like to hear about, I don't know, oysters? And how they became a symbol of glamor or whatever. Because I'm sure you know that, right?" Derek points, grabbing an oyster from the tray a waiter offers him.

"Actually, oysters were not considered a status symbol until the 11th century, when the Crusades trunked access to seafood in Europe. Some researchers believe that-"

I'm about to explain the whole thing when Morgan cuts me off.

"See? Now, don't waste that knowledge with me, and let's share it with those gorgeous, shall we?"

I'm screwed.

I reluctantly stand to follow Derek. I know he's the best intention even if I won't tell him that. Maybe he's right, and I need to step out of my comfort zone occasionally.

As smoothly as only Morgan can be, he interrupts the conversation between three women by the bar. You would think they would return annoyed looks from the sudden interruption, but they did not. It is everything but that.

"Excuse me, beautiful ladies. Hope you don't mind some company. My friend and I thought it would be an honor to share part of your precious time tonight."

How the fuck can he do that?!

The result shocked me almost more than it impressed me. The three turn to us with flirting smiles flashing to Derek. And me?

That's new. And, of course, I have to blush furiously at that.

"Hey, handsome. Sweet talk, uh?" One of the girls teases Derek while the others giggle.

"I know I can do better, but you make me nervous, sweetheart," Morgan banters as smoothly as the beginning.

And that's it. We have their full attention now. Scratch that; Derek has their full attention now.

He asks for their names, and that's how I know the woman who spoke first is Vivian, and her friends are Julie and Ashley. The three of them work in the Counterterrorism Division.

"And who is your good-looking friend?" Ashley asks, skimming at me.

Why is she looking at me from head to toe?

Derek glances at me, and I understand it's time for me to say something.

"I'm Spencer," I wave.

Short and precise.

"Hi, Spencer. You are cute," Ashley points, and suddenly, my mouth goes dry.

As Emily once said, my IQ slashes to 60 when I'm in front of a beautiful woman. And Ashley is a beautiful woman. Her long, stylish blond hair, blue eyes, tan skin with perfect makeup, gorgeous smile, and a dress that accentuates her body in the right places. It would be stupid to say she is not attractive.

"Why don't we go to the dance floor while Ashley and Spencer get to know each other better, uh?" Derek offers to Julie and Vivian, winking at me.

Oh, Lord. Help me.

I don't think Derek or Ashley would appreciate it if I refused to stay here and run to the nearest exit. So I give Ashley a tight smile and prepare myself for whatever comes now.

"Well...?" she prompts, and I don't know what the fuck she expects me to say.

"Yeah. Nice party," I offer, hoping my attempt to small talk works.

Ashley's smile suggests it does.

"It is. Are you having fun?"

No.

"Yes! A lot! Are you?"

"Yeah. But I think it turns out better now," she says, subtly closing some distance between us with a playful look directed at me.

Is she flirting with me?

I clear my throat to appease some of my nerves. I need to cool off. If Derek can do this, I should try.

A waitress approaches us and offers some drinks. Ashley picks a glass of wine, and I prefer a flute of champagne. I don't usually drink alcohol, but I need it now.

"Slow down, boy. People would think I make you nervous," Ashley points seductively when she notices how I quickly down the liquid.

My eyes widen when she rests a hand on my chest and leans to whisper in my ear.

"I don't bite. Unless you want me to."

Okay. That sounds very straightforward.

I should feel flattered. An attractive woman is more than insinuating me right now; I barely said anything. But it doesn't feel like that.

Derek surely would tell me, 'Take it and play it, pretty boy,' but I don't feel like it. If we could engage in a kind of conversation, I would feel more comfortable. Don't get me wrong. I know what a potential one-night stand means, but I'm not good at it. That's how I am. Sue me.

I want to turn her down gently, so I do what I know to do, and people usually hate me for it: spit information.

"Compared with other mammals, like dogs and bears, humans don't have the strongest bite. Scientists measure the pressure exerted by an animal's bite in pounds per square inch or psi. The human bite force is 162 psi. The bite force of some dogs can reach 250 psi, while some bears have a bite force of over 1,000 psi. It's interesting, actually-"

Ashley is now looking at me, confused. She retreats his hand from my chest and hums, faking interest in what I'm saying.

As I go on with my info dump, I notice how Ashley changes her empty glass of wine to a filled one when a server offers it.

Aside from 'interesting,' 'oh,' and 'uhm,' she doesn't add more to the conversation - or more likely, my rambling - and by now, you would think she's tired of me. But no. For God knows what reason, she is persistent. I give her that.

Typically, I can ramble on and on, which is not the exception. The waiters and waitresses keep coming with drinks and food, and even I pick some for myself.

When they offer us a tray with oysters, I can't help but recall what Morgan told me before.

As I see Ashley ushering one to her mouth, I deliver an exciting fact about it.

"Did you know that raw oysters are still alive? Indeed, some people argue oysters might feel pain, and others say that because they don't have a central nervous system, they don't feel pain like other seafood species might."

Not looking at her, I focus on my oyster, inspecting it before continuing.

"If it's that so, the question is when they die actually. This is likely to happen when they are shucked rather than when they are chewed or swallowed. Scientists think this because an oyster's heart is right next to the bottom adductor muscle, so separating it from the shell kills it."

I should have known the lack of response wasn't due to the interest in the topic, although speaking was impossible for her. Her face's blueness and her hand on her neck now tell me something is wrong.

Fuck. She is choking.

I don't know what to do. She is choking on an oyster, and I'm paralyzed. The people around us start to scream as they see her turning blue. That picks everyone's attention, and I want to dig a hole to get into right now. But first, I should do something to help her. Before I can reach for her, a pair of arms hugs Ashley from behind and applies the Heimlich Maneuver. After a few thrusts into the abdominal area, we see the oyster fly from her mouth to somewhere on the floor.

At the same time, Vivian, Julie, and Derek rush to us to find out what is going on.

Ashley starts coughing, and some of her natural color returns to her face. The arms around her torso loosen, and that's when I notice the woman who just saved her life from choking.

Everything happens so fast that I barely register the slap across my face—Ashley's courtesy.

A collective 'Uhhh' is heard around us.

Before I can say anything, Ashley starts a rant full of anger and frustration toward me.

"Are you fucking crazy? Why would you say something like that? It's disgusting!"

Ironically, I'm speechless now.

What is wrong with talking about oysters?

"You fucking weird!" Ashley continues with her rant. It's like she has been holding it since we were left alone.

The woman who helped Ashley now looks between me and her with her eyebrow creased.

"Hey. You should take it easy. You're just recovering from-"

She can't finish the sentence since Ashley turned to lash out at her.

"Don't fucking tell me what to do! I almost died because of this pathetic nerd here who can't stop rambling about alive oysters! Just thinking about it makes me sick again!"

"Could it be a hint for not eating them anymore?" I muse, gaining a chuckle from the woman - let's call her the savior - and a deadly glare from Ashley. I recoil from saying anything else, and it is the wiser.

"I should have known better than to engage my time with you. Even if you actually pack a big dick, it doesn't worth it!" she whisper-yell at me, but loud enough for Derek, Vivian, Julie, and the mystery-savior woman to hear.

I'm utterly confused and embarrassed. What have to do my dick with all of this?

Derek is now dispersing the crowd around us as Vivian and Julie try to soothe her friend's anger, rubbing her back and arm.

I bet they see Ashley's wrath boiling and the high probability of her launching towards me to punch me. Their efforts to subdue her seem to work because, after a loud huff, Ashley only grabs her coat from Vivian's hand and spits at me: "Thanks for ruining my night!"

The three pass by my side to one of the exits venue.

I don't even know how I should feel.

I feel upset because my escape plan didn't go as planned. I feel relieved because Ashley didn't die. Hurt? Yeah, that, too. I didn't deserve a slap on my face. She calling me a pathetic nerd? Sadly, I'm not surprised. And it only confirms my theory I'm not good at this kind of setting.

With the show over and people not focused on me anymore, Derek approaches. I know what he wants to say, but I don't want to hear it. I'm done for tonight.

"Don't say it," I cut him off.

"I wasn't gonna say anything," he tells me with a sympathetic look, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Sure you not," I grumble. "And what was about that comment about my… dick?" I whisper to him.

Derek's face tries to remain neutral, but I know him better.

"What did you do?" I demand to Morgan, and he sighs.

"I may or may not have suggested a rumor about your attributes."

I look at him in disbelief.

"Shut the fuck up! You did not!"

"Come on, pretty boy. It worked! You caught their attention, didn't you?"

I shake my head, trying not to snap at him in public. Morgan can see the distress I'm carrying right now and relents.

"I'm sorry, Reid. I thought it would be a good chance for you to show yourself around. You're a good kid; you deserve to have a good time."

It's useless to engage in this argument again. I understand his good intentions, but like this? No, thanks.

"I better get going," I mumble, walking backward. I'm done for the night.

"Reid..." Morgan starts, but the shake of my head cuts him off. He sighs as I turn to head to one of the exits.

Walking through one of the venue's doors, I find myself on a lateral terrace. I stop for a moment to look around.

If there were different circumstances, I would be enjoying this view. To the front, you can see a beautiful and thick green shrubbery. Several fountains with little waterfalls and statues recreate a neoclassical garden. It is no coincidence since the property where the venue is located is a typical Jefferson's Neo-Palladian construction with high ceilings and large columns.

My architectural appreciation stops when my eyes land on a woman with her back leaning against one of the columns, her left hand resting on the concrete railing, and her right hand with a glass of wine. Her face is turned to the side, and she is observing the beautiful garden in front of her.

I know her. I've seen her before.

Although it is dark outside, the light from the venue's long windows illuminates the terrace enough.

My brain comes up with the answer in a fraction of a second.

Is the woman who saved Ashley from choking.

After what she did, nobody even thanked her. The worst part is knowing Ashley behaved that poorly with her. It's not fair. And it's my fault.

With that in mind, I approach her.

She seems too concentrated to register I'm just a foot of distance from her. I clear my throat to call her attention.

She turns her head with a confused look at first. But she offered me a kind smile when she realized who I was.

It's my first chance to look at her; with everything happening so fast, I barely noticed her trying to talk back to Ashley moments ago.

And now that I'm in front of her, I feel weirdly struck.

Besides her beautiful smile, her eyes hold a piercing gaze, but not the kind that frightens you. It's more like she actually sees you and gives you her undivided attention. With light makeup, her face lets you see some of her freckles. With her hair tied to one side, you can see her neck adorned with a simple gold chain with a compass-shaped pendant.

My not-so-subtle scrutiny is interrupted by her voice.

"Can I help you?" She asks, and my cheeks turn pink. But I'm here for a reason, so I clear my throat before speaking.

"Sorry. I - uh. I'm sorry for bothering you, but I wanted to thank you. For what you did back there," I say, pointing to the inside. "And, well, I want to apologize too. Ashley wasn't very kind to you, considering you mostly saved her life."

She tilts her head slightly, a frown forming, while contemplating what to say.

"Well," she starts. "I'll take the thanks. But I can't take the apologies."

Now, it's my turn to frown.

"Oh, okay. Uh - Why not?"

Not that she should do it. It's her right to do it or not, but I'm curious.

"Because you didn't do anything wrong to me, so you don't have to," she shrugs, like it's obvious.

"I kind of did. I mean, Ashley behaved awful, and I didn't -"

Before I can continue, she shakes her head to stop me.

"No. Don't do that. Why on earth do you want to apologize for someone else's bad manners, considering she treated you like garbage?"

She doesn't say it as if she is upset at me, more likely as if she doesn't understand why I would do that. And yes, she has a good point. But someone has to do the right thing, and that's what I say next.

"It's just the right thing to do."

She takes her time, mulling over my words and whether she believes me or not.

"Okay. You're correct. It's the right to do. And it's a shame most people don't do it. But I still believe it is not your responsibility here."

Something is telling me her statement concerns more than Ashley being impolite. But it is not my place to point that.

"But some people do. And that must count as something, I guess. "

It's curious how her look changes from pensive to more light-hearted.

"Okay. You win this time..." she trails off, not knowing how to refer to me.

"Spencer," I supply. She hums.

"You win this time, Spencer. And being that said, I accept your apology too," she added, sipping the remaining wine from her glass.

I smile, nodding appreciatively. It's a little gesture, but I feel better after what happened.

Silence settles between us, and I take that as my cue to leave. I had already taken enough of her time.

"Uh, well. Thank you again..."

I trail off, realizing I don't know her name.

"(Y/N)," she says.

"Thank you again, (Y/N). Hope you enjoy the rest of your night."

With that said, I should get on foot to leave the venue, as I had planned to do ten minutes ago, but for some reason, my feet didn't want to move, and I kept standing there. (Y/N) look at me as if I'm going to say something else due to the lack of movement on my part.

"Are you okay?" she asks, and now I have the same question for myself.

"Yeah. Yeah. Totally okay. Sorry, I'm leaving now."

Turning in my heels, I'm about to walk away when I hear (Y/N) 's voice.

"I didn't know that, you know? And, for the record, I didn't think it was disgusting."

I stop in my tracks to look at her with a raised eyebrow. When I catch what she is referring to, my eyes cast to the floor, and my cheeks turn pink again.

"If anything, I found it educative," she adds. I try to decipher if there is some teasing in her words, but I find none. She's being oddly genuine. Oddly, because I'm not used to people saying that when referring to the things I tend to ramble about.

"Thank you," I sheepishly say, my hands finding home in my pant pockets. "People don't tell me that very often."

A puff leaves (Y/N) 's lips before she says, "Ungrateful fuckers."

I chuckle at her choice of words.

Weird. It's the first time all night that I don't want to run away from here.

"Yeah. Something like that," I agree, and she smiles. Now I'm comfortable enough to make some conversation.

"Uh, are you from Quantico?"

"Yeah. A very adrenalinal position," she prompts, and I raise an eyebrow. "Finance Division."

I can't help but snort, and she laughs. "I told you. What about you?"

"Behavioral Unit Analysis," I reply. (Y/N)' s eyes wide in recognition.

"Wow. The one and only BAU."

"You know us?"

"Sure. I wouldn't forget a unit that has its own jet. I'm the one who enters the travel expenses from all Quantico," she explains. I hum, trying to figure out the amplitude of that sole task. "Like I told you, very exciting."

She is mocking herself regarding her job. But I find it impressive for a desk job. Not all people have the skills to run financials.

"Well, I agree it is not very adrenaline but very important. I mean, we have to travel around the country all the time. Our job depends on traveling."

(Y/N) has now an amused expression on her face.

"It's nice to know someone truly values what you do. Not even our boss does it," she points before letting a deep sigh escape from her lips. "Gosh, I'm being very judgmental right now. You're going to think I spend my life complaining about everything. I do sometimes, but I'm not always like this," she explains. I shake my head.

"I'm not judging you. Everyone has the right to say what things don't like or would change about their jobs."

"Well, thanks. Although I'm sure you guys have more reasons to be concerned. You risk your life on the field every time. That's huge."

She rests the empty glass on the concrete rail, adjusting her coat around her body. The air is chiller at this time of the night.

"You know? People say that a lot. And I agree. It's a dangerous job, but it's not better than anyone's for that reason, or whatever another reason for that matter.

Her eyes are analyzing me with curiosity. I'm not sure, but it's like she's having difficulty believing what I'm saying.

"Can I ask you something, Spencer?"

"Sure."

"Why are you here tonight?"

My eyes narrow at her question. Isn't the reason obvious?

"What do you mean? It's the FBI annual gala," I point out, knowing she already knows that too. She nods.

"Precisely," she starts. "And at the risk of being impertinent, I can say this environment makes you uncomfortable. When you were with that girl talking - scratch that, when you were talking, and she looked at you, trying to devour you with her eyes - you seemed like you didn't want to be there. Above all, knowing this kind of event is basically to show off to other bureau agents, I don't think is your notion of an ideal night."

If I wasn't impressed when we started talking - which I was - I am now.

She assumes my awe as discomfort.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to overstep."

"No, no. You are okay. And let me tell you, your observation is completely accurate," I hasten to clarify.

"Yeah?" (Y/N) asks, and I nod earnestly.

"Yeah. Have you not considered applying for a position as a field agent?"

An amused laugh leaves her lips.

"No way! I would be a total disaster! And carrying a gun is not my idea of a dream job anymore," she points out, still laughing.

I chuckle, but her answer makes me think. Before I can ask for clarification, she calls me out.

"Hey, you didn't answer my question."

I didn't, although the answer is simple.

"My boss made me."

(Y/N) scoff in disbelief.

"What? Did he put a gun against your chest?"

Well, thinking better about it, maybe the answer is not that simple.

"Not quite, but you can say I felt it that way."

I tell (Y/N) how my team always worries about my lack of social interaction, which isn't that accurate if you ask me. However, some of the pressure of doing things that people my age would generally do is finally getting me and pushing me out of my comfort zone.

She listens to me with undivided attention and seems to understand what I'm talking about.

"Peer pressure, uh? I can relate to that to some extent," she agrees.

"That's why are you here tonight, too?"

My question makes her let out a deep sigh as her eyes focus on the garden beside us for a second.

"Not really. Who knows, maybe I do enjoy being here?"

(Y/N) phrases it more like a question than a statement. And I can tell she doesn't believe it either.

"Enjoying being apart from the crowd, in a lateral terrace barely illuminated and exposed to the chilly night air? I can think of several other places to do the same thing without the trouble of a gala environment."

Her cheeks turn a shade of pink, which tells me I'm right.

"Not fair, you are a certified profiler," (Y/N) complains, faking annoyance.

"And you haven't answered my question either," I remind her. She rolls her eyes playfully.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Well, let's say I came here to prove myself something. Spoiler alert: I failed. That's why I have been mostly spending the night here."

I hum, knowing she is vague in explaining, but I'm not in a place to pry.

"Look, I would tell you more about it, but I'm sure you have to return inside. Your teammates are surely wondering where you are."

I can't help but snort, and she raises an eyebrow at my reaction.

"I'm sorry, but your assumption is far from reality. Considering what happened inside, they think I ran home. What I was actually doing before spotting you here," I admit.

"Ha! So it's true I'm holding you back but for a different motive," she triumphantly concludes.

"I didn't say that!" I complain with a hint of exasperation, to which she breathly laughs.

"I know. I know. I'm messing with you. Honestly? There are two reasons why I'm avoiding this topic right now. First, I don't think you want to hear the mess my life is these days, and second, I would kill for a coffee and a sandwich-" she pauses, stifling a chuckle before continuing. "Considering oysters are out of the table."

"Oh, come on!" I groan, seeing how she falls into a fit of laughter, so contagious that I can't help but join her.

"Sorry, sorry. Not very kind of me, I know. But I couldn't help it," she apologizes, still giggling. I bit my lower lip in amusement.

"Alright. It's okay. It's frankly funny," I admit, my words leaving my mouth before I can think of them. "Well, I could tell you more of those moments in my life - many of them - if you let me join you with the coffee and sandwich. I know a good place that is open at this hour. And you can tell me what kind of thing you wanted to prove yourself tonight."

Spencer Reid. Is that you?

I'm surprised by my sudden confidence, and it seems (Y/N) is, too. She hums, scrubbing her fingers under her chin while contemplating my offer.

"Okay, I'll take it. But don't tell me later that I didn't warn you about the mess of my life," she points her index finger at me.

"I won't. I promise."

Grabbing a cab is relatively easy since the FBI considered transportation outside the venue for people who won't be driving.

The fifteen-minute ride allows us to have a light conversation. That's how I know (Y/N) has been in the bureau for almost four years. Being an Accountant by profession and with a Master of Science in Finance from Georgetown, she was recruited for the FBI precisely considering her outstanding skills in the financial department.

She asks me about my trajectory in the FBI as well. I tell her about Gideon and the start of my life at the BAU.

Arriving at our destination, I insist on paying for the ride despite her resistance. I assured her that she could invite me to the coffee.

It must be a curious image for the patrons to see two fully gala-dressed people stepping inside a diner at eleven pm.

We sit on a bench facing each other.

A girl who can't hide her curious expression comes to take our order. As promised, (Y/N) asks for two coffees and two sandwiches.

"So, Agent Gideon recruited you for the FBI. Why did you accept? I would have thought you would be more comfortable in academics," (Y/N) asks, stirring a spoon of sugar in her coffee.

"I thought the same at the time. But Gideon saw something I didn't. He knew I wouldn't settle with learning and teaching for the rest of my life, and I needed it to be useful beyond that environment."

I explain how profiling has helped us to catch unsubs around the country and how worthy it is for me. I can't think of myself doing anything else. (Y/N) listen to me with raptor interest; it is nice to be heard that way.

"You know? I haven't heard someone speak passionately about their work in a long time. It's good you feel that way," she says with a hint of longing that doesn't go unnoticed by me.

"It is bold of me to assume you don't like what you do?"

Maybe I'm overstepping, but I'm curious. And (Y/N) doesn't seem bothered by my question. Shifting in her seat, she leans, resting her elbows on the table.

"Not bold at all, mister profiler," she teases. "But not always has been that way. I would say I started to feel uncomfortable not long ago. A couple of months, perhaps?"

I hum, thinking about what could have made her feel that way.

"It has to do with why you were at the gala tonight?"

She chuckles, nodding.

"Kind of. Remember I told you I wanted to prove myself something? Well, it has to do with what has been bothering me," she prefaces.

(Y/N) relates how things have gone well since she got into the FBI. She felt respected, wanting to do many things and learn everything she could.

That's how she met her boyfriend.

"I wasn't looking for a romantic relationship, much less at work. I wanted to be professional, separating my private life from my job. But he was so attentive and supportive. He always told me he was happy I felt fulfilled with what I was doing. He was so perfect I thought I had found my soulmate."

I don't know exactly where she is going, but sure as hell, that prick wasn't her soulmate.

"What happened?"

"One day, I wasn't good enough for him anymore. After two years of relationship, he started with harsh comments and criticism about everything I did and didn't do."

A humorless chuckle escapes her lips.

"I should have noticed. By then, he was promoted from desk duty and junior trainee to field agent. He had always wanted it, and I felt so happy for him. But that changed everything."

(Y/N) tells me about how her boyfriend stopped listening to her, and instead, every topic of conversation turned to his job, implying - sometimes saying it explicitly - that it was more important than hers.

"It's not only the fact we stopped communicating; it was realizing how low he thought about me and my accomplishments. At first, I tried to understand. Of course, he was dazed by this new life, full of danger and adrenaline. I could understand it. But when he started comparing me to his female colleagues and the things they were doing, way more important than the ones I was doing, it made me insecure."

(Y/N) takes time to collect her thoughts, sipping the remaining coffee from the cup.

"The insecurities got the best of me. At some point, I just wanted to run away and leave it all behind. I knew it was irrational, but I believed him. I even thought about changing my career and training to be a field agent. Good thing we broke up before I could do that," she admits.

"What stopped you? I mean, like you're telling this, you were going to change for him," I ask. She cast her gaze, averting mine. Her cheeks turn pink.

"I don't like to admit it, but the reason we broke up wasn't because I realized how stupid the situation was. We broke up because he cheated on me. I discovered it two months ago, breaking the camel's back."

Fuck. That prick was not meant to be her soulmate. And I feel the urge to have one or two words with him right now.

"I'm sorry." It's the only thing I manage to say. (Y/N) shakes her head.

"Nah. If anything, I'm glad it happened. Even if it broke my heart."

"He was at the gala, right?" (Y/N) nods.

"With the coworker that he chose to cheat on me. His current girlfriend."

Everything makes perfect sense now. (Y/N) was trying to prove to herself that the wound had healed. And from what she said earlier, it didn't turn that way.

She bitterly chuckles.

"Yeah. It's pathetic, I know."

Spencer, do something.

"No! It's not. Unfortunately, cheating is not uncommon, particularly in men. In 2020, IFS released a report stating that 20% of men have admitted to cheating, and only 10% have. In 2021, the Health Testing Centers asked 441 people who admitted infidelity to their partners and asked how long it took for them to tell their partners about it. 47.7% of the respondents told their partner within a week that they'd cheated. 26.6% of those have waited for a month, and 25.7% took six months or longer to tell their partner about the infidelity. And 60% of them said the affair started in a work environment."

And then again, the rambling. But instead of giving me a blank look, (Y/N) seems to consider what I just said.

"Maybe I shouldn't feel so bad about it then. Anyway, it hasn't been easy to get out of this. I thought going to the gala and forcing myself to see them together would be enough to get a closure," she reflects.

"But it still hurts," I supply, making (Y/N) hum.

"Yeah. I'm not ready, and it sucks. Not for him, but for me. I hate feeling so out of place, so dissatisfied with everything," (Y/N) retorts, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest.

Her eyes look sad, and I want to do something to fix it, although I know that nothing I can say would be enough. Maybe joking will at least get her off the topic.

"And there I was talking about oysters all night," I sigh, feigning disapproval. Genuine laughter escapes her lips.

I didn't know that making her laugh could fill my heart so much with satisfaction.

"That's life," she adds, now checking the time on her cell phone. "I think I'll get going," she announces, collecting her things and preparing to stand.

"Can I walk you home? It's very late already," I ask.

"Oh no, don't worry about me. My building is not far from here."

I know she doesn't want to cause trouble, but it makes me uneasy about what could happen to her walking alone at this hour.

Thank you, BAU.

"Please?" I insist. (Y/N) raises an eyebrow.

"Aren't you already fed up with me?" she asks curiously.

"Non yet," I grin.

Not having the energy to put up a fight, she accepts my offer, and after paying the bill, we leave the restaurant.

The night is colder now, and both of us walk in silence with our hands in our pockets.

I can't know what exactly she's thinking, but at least I can't stop thinking about tonight. For someone like me, it's hard to fall into spontaneity, but with (Y/N), it wasn't a problem. That amazes me, and I like it at the same time.

When she stops walking, I get out of my thoughts.

"Here," she says, looking at the building we are standing by. "Thank you for walking with me," (Y/N) states, smiling. It's the same warm smile she offered when I found her on the venue's terrace a couple of hours ago.

"Of course. It's the less I could do."

And I mean it. She saved my night in so many ways she doesn't even know.

"Well, I need to say it was a pleasure to share this shit of a night with you and turned it less shitty," she says, grinning and satisfied with her remark.

I laugh at her statement. I couldn't have said it better.

"Thank you. It's the best compliment I have had in a long time," I joke, making (Y/N) giggle.

"You are welcome."

I have the question on the tip of my tongue. I would love to see her again, but what if she doesn't think it's worth it? I opt for the vaguest thing that comes to mind.

"See you around?"

(Y/N) thinks about it for a moment. Am I being too obvious? Before falling into a spiral, she smiles at me again.

"Yeah, sure. Why not."

I can't help but feel the excitement pouring from me.

"Great! Well, I - I'll go now. Good night (Y/N)," I say goodbye, slowly walking backward.

"Good night, Spencer," she retorts before entering the building.

I watch her disappear behind the door, and I think that while neither of us got what we wanted, maybe we got what we needed.

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A/N 2: I'm excited to know your thoughts about this!

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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #dr spencer reid #amanda perry williams #aperrywilliams #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot

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puckinghischier · 2 days

Text

Nervous

Jack Hughes x fem!reader, smitten!Jack

summary: request for jack and reader on their wedding day

notes: this is my first time writing anything for jack and i literally had so much fun with it. i hope you guys like it 😌

[2.6k]

Jack had never been this nervous before. Not during nationals games, not on his draft day, not on the night of his rookie debut, and not in any circumstance that he can remember. Ever. He’s not usually the type to dwell on feelings of nerves, trusting his skill and his ability to focus on the task at hand to get the job done.

Today, though, is the most nerve-wracking day of his life. It’s his wedding day, for crying out loud. The day he gets to marry the girl that has been there for every major event of his life. The girl that has never missed a Devil’s home game. The girl that he’s pretty sure his family loves more than him. The girl that has stuck by him through every hardship and crazy hockey season so far. His girl. The girl he gets to make his wife.

Hell, he wasn’t even this nervous when he asked you to marry him. He recalls the day as if it happened mere hours ago, not a year and a half earlier.

“Jack, where are we going? I thought you said you had an event with the team tonight? You’re going to be late,” you ask, noticing you’re driving further and further away from the city.

You had been doing laundry, trying to get ahead on some chores you had been neglecting, when Jack had come into the living room and told you to put your shoes on, he wanted to take you somewhere. You had asked him where, and if you needed to change, but he simply shook his head no and told you it was a surprise. This wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for Jack. You just assumed he found a new ice cream place he thought you would love, or some quaint little coffee shop he knew you’d like.

You didn’t think anything of it until you found yourself watching the city disappear into the distance almost forty-five minutes later, no destination in sight.

“We’re almost there, darling. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours,” is all he said, taking his eyes off the road for only a moment to flash one of his soft smiles in your direction before continuing to drive.

You sit in the comfortable silence, a slow country ballad playing softly on the radio. Jack’s hand resting on your thigh adding a much-needed warmth to your body, not having grabbed a jacket before Jack dragged you out of your shared apartment. You watch the road around you become surrounded by trees, admiring the greenery that seems so hard to come by in the city.

Before you realize it, too lost in your own thoughts, Jack is turning off of the paved road you were traveling onto a dirt road, clouds of dust billowing behind the car. You lean forward a bit, trying to take in the scenery to find any sort of clue as to where you were. You’re just about to ask where he’s taking you, yet again, when you see the most beautiful scene appear through the windshield.

At the end of the road stood a large red barn, aged in all the right ways. The red was slightly faded, showcasing the years of sun damage and there were pieces of the shingled roof missing, lost in the wind who knows how long ago. Off to the left of the barn was a large area surrounded by a wooden fence, a few horses grazing on the bright green grass. The sun was just beginning to set, causing one side of the barn to be coated in golden sunlight, the other side blanketed in a shadow. As Jack turned the car to enter the field where the barn sat, you noticed the obscene number of lights strung high into the trees covered by the shadow of the barn, giving the effect that little drops of sunlight were dripping from the limbs.

“Jack…what- where are we?” You ask him, disbelief lacing your tone.

“Just a little place I stumbled across with Luke one day. We were out for a drive, just wanting out of the city for a few hours. Found this place and instantly thought of you. Knew I had to bring you here,” he reveals, parking the car and turning off the engine.

Jack opens his door to get out of the car and quickly moves to open yours, taking your hand while leading the two of you over to the forest of lights. You’re so busy looking up at the sight in the trees that you miss the large, wooden arch set up in the middle of the two biggest trees in the mini forest. There were a few hay-bales on each side of the arch, large bouquets of white daisies placed all over the bales, with some even bunched around the top corners of the square arch.

Once you take in the scene in front of you, you turn your head to look at Jack, finding his eyes already on you.

“Jack, you have about three seconds to tell me what’s going on here,” you calmly tell him, even though your stomach felt like it was doing summersaults.

“I told you, I wanted to show this place to you. Thought you’d like it.” His lips curled into an amused smile once he noticed the glare on your face, knowing you were calling his bluff.

“I wanted to show you this place, because I knew you’d like it. Because I know you. How lucky I am to know you,” he begins, slowly moving you forward until you’re standing directly in front of the arch.

“How lucky I am that I’m the person you chose to trust with your heart. How lucky I am to be able to come home to you after a hard day. How lucky I am to be the recipient of your kindness and your love. How lucky I am to bask in your happiness and your spirit day after day. How lucky I am that you put up with the crazy world I live in, and do it without complaint.”

Your hands were starting to shake at this point, eyes watering.

“What I did to deserve all of this, I’ll never know. But I know I’ll never take it for granted. I’ll never take you for granted. And if you’ll let me, I’ll spend every day of the rest of our lives telling you how thankful I am to whatever celestial being lead me to you,” Jack pauses, dropping to his knee and fishing around in his pocket for the velvet box he’s had hidden in a pair of old skates in the closet for months now.

“You are pure sunshine, shining light on every single person you meet. Y/N Y/L/N, please, let me live the rest of my life sunburnt. Marry Me.”

That was the easy part. Asking you to marry him was the quickest and easiest decision Jack had ever made in his life. He hadn’t thought twice when he called Luke on a random Thursday afternoon, telling him he needed to help him run some “errands”, driving to the nearest jeweler as soon as Luke sat in his passengers seat. Didn’t even hesitate when he called your best friend, asking if you had ever talked about what your favorite diamond cut was. Not a nerve in sight when he flew out to meet your parents to ask for their blessing two months before proposing, claiming he was just making a quick trip to visit some friends.

So why? Why was he so nervous today? He’s been looking at himself in the mirror for twenty minutes now, worried that his bow tie is crooked, or that his hair looks too messy. He didn’t know why he was so focused on his appearance. You’ve seen him at his worst. You’ve been there to take care of him after far too many drinks on a night out celebrating a win, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, head buried in the closest toilet. You’ve seen him after a brutal game, face red from exertion and weird imprints all over his body from his gear. You’ve seen him when he broke down after his first loss during his rookie year, putting all the blame on himself, holding him in your arms as he sobbed in your kitchen.

He knew you didn’t care if a few hairs were out of place, or if his tie was a centimeter too far to the left. But he did. He cared, because this was the most important day of his life, and you deserved for him to look his best. You deserved for him to make sure everything was perfect.

Jack is pulled from his thoughts by a knock at the door, Luke and Quinn making their way into the room.

“Ready, Rowdy?” Quinn asks, going to stand behind Jack in the mirror.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jack responds, turning to look at his two brothers, forcing a smile that’s supposed hide all of his nervous emotions.

“Are you sure? Why do you look like you’re about to vomit, then?”

“I don’t? Do I? Oh god, what if she thinks there’s something wrong when she sees me? How do I make myself look like I’m not gonna hurl all over her dress. Luke, do I really look like I’m gonna blow chunks?” Jack frantically asks, looking between the two brothers, turning back around to look at himself in the mirror once again.

“Jack, breathe, man. You look fine. Luke was just being Luke. He doesn’t look like he’s going to vomit, right, Luke?” Quinn attempts to calm Jack, glaring at Luke.

“Yeah, I didn’t mean it. Sorry, Jack. You look fine. She’s probably gonna want to jump your bones or some shit. You look great.” Luke blurts, trying to not only escape the wrath of his eldest brother, but to keep Jack from actually vomiting.

“Okay, not what I meant but whatever works, I guess.” Quinn sighs, placing his hands on Jack’s shoulders to turn him back around.

“Listen, everything’s going to be fine. We just went to see Y/N, she’s nervous just like you are. I don’t know why, you’re both so painfully obvious with how much you love each other. There’s nothing for you to worry about. She loves you, man. More than I’ve seen someone love another person. As long as you’re standing there waiting on her at the end of the aisle, you could be covered in dog shit for all she cares. She just wants to see you. She just wants to marry you.”

Jack stares at his older brother, letting the words sink in. His thoughts drift to you, only three doors down, standing in your dress looking into the mirror just like he is, freaking out over things that don’t truly matter to him. He thinks about how you could walk down the aisle, hair un-brushed, pajamas still on, slippers on your feet and he would still be ecstatic to see you.

“You’re right, Q. Of course you’re right. I knew I chose you to be my best man for a reason,” Jack chuckles, feeling his nerves settle a bit.

“I know I’m right. I know you. And I know Y/N. As long as the two of you leave here today with the same last name, everything else could go wrong and you would still be the happiest couple I know,” Quinn removes his hands from Jack’s shoulders.

“But, nothing is going to go wrong, because Mom has been out there running around like a madwoman to make sure everything is in place. The only thing left is to make sure you get to the altar. Which is what we were sent here to do,” Luke chimes in, trying to assure his brother one last time.

“Alright. Yeah. I guess it’s time, huh?”

“It’s time, Rowdy. And it’s been a long time coming.” Quinn pats Jack on the back, the three brothers making their way towards the door that was left open.

Jack smiles at his brother’s statement, knowing you’re just as much a part of his brother’s lives as you are his. You watch every single one of Quinn’s hockey games (as long as he’s not playing at the same time as Jack and Luke) and scream loud enough for the neighbors to complain. You were there at Jack’s side for Luke’s draft day, just as proud, if not more, of the youngest Hughes. You always invite Luke over for a post-game dinner, knowing how tired he is after games and wanting to make sure he gets a meal before he goes home and claims he’s too tired to eat dinner. He knows you hold a special place in his mom’s heart, too. Her claim that you’re the daughter she never had proving to be true through this whole process, knowing she’s been involved in every step of this wedding right along side your mom and yourself.

Before Jack knows it, the ceremony is beginning and he’s being given the signal to make his way to the altar, standing next to his groomsmen as he waits for you to walk through those doors.

As he looks out over the crowd, he finds himself growing nervous once again. Did he put on enough cologne? Did he bring the right kind? What if he wasn’t wearing the one you told him was your favorite? Did he brush his teeth? What if he kisses you for the first time as your husband and his breath tastes like the burger he had for lunch? Oh god, what if you don’t want to kiss him because he has burger breath?

Quinn can sense the nervous energy radiating off of his brother once again. He places his hand on Jack’s back, giving him a few pats to let him know he’s right there next to him. That everything’s going to be okay.

Jack looks over at his brother only briefly before he hears the unmistakable tune of “In Case You Didn’t Know” by Brett Young start playing through the speakers. It’s Jack’s song for you. He plays it all the time when you’re in the car together, not even trying to be subtle. He loves to send it to you when he’s on the road, letting you know he’s thinking about you. There was absolutely no question in your mind as to what song you were going to choose when your mom asked what you wanted to walk down the aisle to.

He snaps his attention to the double doors that open at the other end of the large room. His stomach is in knots, really hoping he doesn’t actually look like he’s about to puke, because he sure feels like it right now.

As he watches the first flash of white make an appearance in the doorway, he knows he’s a goner.

You step into his full view, hand wrapped around your father’s arm, looking around at the various guests for only a split second before your eyes meet his. Jack swears, all time stops in that second. He can barely see through the tears that well in his eyes, completely in awe of you. You match his gaze, forcing yourself to keep the tears from dropping, not wanting to have mascara streaks running down your face before you even get to the altar.

The two of you simply stare at one another for what seems like an eternity. An unspoken declaration of love passed between one another in a simple glance. Your father having to tug on your arm slightly, forcing you to step forward, too lost in Jack for you to remember where you were and what was currently taking place.

As you start to walk down the aisle, every step bringing you towards Jack, towards the rest of your life with him, the feeling of calmness washes over his body. You’re here. You’re his. And you’re everything he has ever wanted and more. It’s in this moment, watching the rest of his life walk towards him, smile on her face, a single tear slipping down her cheek, Jack Hughes has never been less nervous in his life.

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flowerandblood · 2 days

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The Fall from the Heavens (25)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: angst, tension, anxiety, a lot of half-truths ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard

Author note: For the purposes of this story, Lord Rodrik Arryn had a son and an heir, who in turn has a son of his own, to whom our Lady Strong was betrothed. I invented the lullaby in this chapter, so if you think it's weird, thank me, lol.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

After what he heard, he just vomited, unable to stop the convulsions that were squeezing his stomach, the rapid pounding of his heart or his terrified, ragged breathing. He could feel tears of despair and fear running down his cheeks as he coughed once more, panting heavily over the vessel − he felt like his whole body was twitching.

You will betray her at the moment she trusts you the most.

You will achieve victory, but she will never let you touch herself again.

You will put your child inside me, your bastard son, who will rule Harrenhal after our death.

He felt his stomach twist again in pain at the mere memory – he leaned over the bowl, feeling the gag reflex shake his body once more, but nothing left his throat.

He cried out loudly as if he were a small child, covering his face with his hand, leaning over the table, thinking about how much he needed his wife right now.

How much he wanted to snuggle between her soft, sweet breasts, to feel her smooth, warm hands stroking his hair, her heart beating beneath his cheek.

He drew in a loud breath, reminding himself that he had left her alone and that any moment spent in this disgusting place could have been her last; he reached for the cup of wine, rinsed his mouth a few times and spat the contents into the bowl, washing his face with fresh water, trying to calm himself.

This was part of their game, he thought, feeling his terror slowly begin to be replaced by fury.

He was sure Larys Strong had made her say it because he wanted him to believe that what was to come was destiny, not his and his grandfather's plan.

They wanted to manipulate him, to force him to leave her, to strip her of his protection, to destroy her.

No, he thought.

He was no longer a small child.

He left the fortress feeling that he had again unwittingly become the cold, empty stone he had been for eight years when she had not been with him, recognising that he had to keep a cool head.

He could not allow himself to be weak now.

He knew that if he just looked at her, if he just saw her face again and remembered what that woman had said to him he would simply burst into sobs, so to her disappointment he pretended not to see her.

The journey to the Eyrie, although spent in full sun and short, was unbearable for him and dragged on endlessly; he felt that waves of thoughts, suppositions and versions of events flowed through his mind one after another, causing complete chaos in his head.

What if Rhaenyra did not agree despite his lie?

What if she agrees, but demands the head of his grandfather and mother?

Whoever he was, his grandfather was his kin, his blood; all his life he had fought for them and their rights even if he himself often despised him.

How should he behave in such a situation so as not to let her down?

To fight? Declare war on them? Let her decide for herself once again which side she would stand on this time?

He pressed his forehead to the front of his saddle, clenching his hands on the ropes he held in his fist, feeling that he was descending into madness.

As they landed in the valley below the fortress he slid off his saddle, thinking that he had to share his plan with her, lest she accidentally say something herself that might destroy their credibility.

"− uncle −" She began, walking towards him, her face all pink and sweaty from exertion, unruly strands of her hair clinging to her skin.

His heart pounded harder.

You will come back here to face your nephew and you will take me, because you will decide that I am similar to her enough to satisfy your pain and longing.

You will put your child inside me, your bastard son, who will rule Harrenhal after our death.

He swallowed loudly, feeling that his vision was blank, his hands clenched into fists.

"− we'll tell them you're expecting my child −" He said coolly, sidestepping her, heading ahead, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible − he heard her draw in a loud breath as she moved immediately after him, terrified, trying to keep up with him.

"− what? − Aemond, we can't lie, not now −" She muttered, clearly terrified by this vision − he pressed his lips together into a thin line, furious that she was making this all even more difficult.

"− they must agree to our terms − I will not discuss my decisions with you −" He growled impatiently and stopped when her silhouette appeared in front of him – her palms slapped against his chest, a fury in her eyes that startled him.

"− you will − you don't know them as well as you do − Daemon can sense the lie, he will see it in your eyes − do you think that once they understand that you are manipulating them they will agree to whatever conditions you set for them? −" She asked with an irritation in her voice that he didn't like; he felt a cold sweat on his neck at the unbearable thought that she was partly right.

Fuck.

He stared at her for a moment, breathing heavily, feeling like he was about to faint, another disturbing thought flashed through his mind.

What had that whore said to her?

"− that fucking witch − what did she say to you? −" He asked uneasily, wanting to be sure she wasn't trying to manipulate his wife the way she was trying to manipulate him.

His Rheanys blinked rapidly and swallowed hard, as if his question made her uncomfortable − he felt an unpleasant twinge in his stomach at the sight.

"− that we should not return to Harrenhal − that I should watch out for myself and trust no one −" She muttered, and he felt his heart stop.

That we should not return to Harrenhal.

That I should watch out for myself and trust no one.

She warned her.

Why?

He felt that he understood absolutely none of this; the woman's behaviour seemed to make no sense to him, but that wasn't the worst of it.

The worst part was the thought that perhaps she really believed what she said.

That perhaps she really did see his betrayal and what he would do next in her dream or in the fire.

He stood watching her like a small, frightened child who was afraid to tell a parent that he had stolen and destroyed their favourite book unwillingly, who was afraid to admit his guilt for fear of punishment and what it entailed.

She must have seen what was happening to him in his gaze because she walked over to him and touched his upper arms, her scent, the smell of vanilla reached his nose.

"− husband, what happened? − if you have doubts, let's discuss everything − but please don't close yourself in the fortress of your mind −" She muttered pleadingly, her voice warm and calm, soothing, as if she understood that he was afraid.

That thought, the realisation that she knew him well enough that he couldn't hide from her what was happening inside him made him feel even worse.

He thought she would loathe him forever.

He swallowed hard as she cupped his cheeks between her hands and closed his eyes, feeling himself tremble all over, focusing only on her closeness.

"− uncle − look at me − I am your ally − I always have been −" She whispered tenderly making another wave of heat and fear surge through his body at the same time, causing something inside him to crack.

"You're your parents' child too. Just like me. What will you do when one of them demands the other's head?" He asked coldly, feeling his heart pounding like mad − he felt like he could hear in his ears the fast pumping of blood through his veins.

His wife furrowed her brows, shaking her head as if she did not understand what he had just said to her.

"− I will never agree to this − despite what your grandfather and your mother did to me, I will not agree for them to be harmed if you assure me to do the same − you know that I am not driven by revenge − and you? − you are the one who constantly doubts me, however, ever since I appeared in King's Landing you have been the one to let me down − yet I remain faithful to you − I chose you, uncle, when will you understand it? − when will you understand that there is no other way for me but by your side even if I come to burn? −"

She said in a trembling, angry, breaking voice from which a shiver ran down his back; he looked at her in disbelief feeling his body filled with guilt and shame.

You are the one who constantly doubts me, however, ever since I appeared in King's Landing you have been the one to let me down.

She was right.

She welcomed him with open arms despite the fact that he hadn't answered her letters for eight years; she didn't show him any kind of resentment, she didn't demand an apology from him, she lavished him with understanding and tenderness when he needed it, wanting to make things right.

It was he who betrayed her when Aegon became King.

It was his mother who forced her to drink the moon tea.

He was the one who made her try to take her own life.

He was the one who kept her locked up like a prisoner.

And yet, it was he who perpetually accused her in his head of the possibility of betrayal, as if he was just waiting for it.

For an excuse to decide that this was never going to succeed.

Despite this, she was now standing in front of him, being on his side, willing to fight alongside him for a future for them.

He felt a squeeze in his throat at this realisation, at the thought that there was never any other way for him than the one that would always lead him to her, to his beloved, to his friend.

To his Rheanys.

He lifted his hand, in some subconscious gesture of tenderness and closeness placing an unruly strand of her dark hair behind her ear, looking at her pretty face, at her bright, shining eyes, at her long lashes, at her swollen, moist lips − everything that belonged to him, that he could take every night.

He felt his manhood twitch in his breeches at the thought.

"Can I kiss you?" He heard her whisper and looked at her, seeing that she was staring at him exactly as she had then, that day when she had come to his chamber as a child, holding a small book clutched to her chest in her hands.

He leaned towards her without a word and closed his eyes, sighing in relief when her plump, soft lips pressed against his in a sweet, sticky kiss; she pulled away from him, stroking his cheeks and hair with her hands, but it wasn't enough for him.

"One more time."

He moaned into her mouth and locked her in the tight, strong embrace of his arms as her lips pressed against his again, this time as if she wanted to devour him, her wet, swollen lips sucking and licking him making him completely hard; he felt the lust, the hot feeling he shared with her shake his body as his eyes involuntarily filled with tears at the thought of what he had heard.

You will take me, because you will decide that I am similar to her enough to satisfy your pain and longing.

You will put your child inside me.

But he wanted her.

He wanted his childhood friend.

His lover, his companion, his joy.

She filled his heart with herself so much that there was no room in it for any Visenya.

"I love you." He muttered helplessly, feeling the words leave his throat without the participation of his free will. "I've always loved you."

He felt her gasp loudly at his words as her body trembled in his arms; his heart squeezed tight with pain as she wept quietly.

"− I feel that some weight has crushed you, my beloved − it covers you like a heavy black cloak − but I am by your side − I am with you − trust me − I know how to speak with them, I know them −" She mumbled out looking at him with a hot gaze full of affection from which he felt that nothing mattered anymore, that he couldn't fight himself or what only she could do.

He was completely helpless against her.

"− will you be by my side even when all is lost? − even if there is nothing left but darkness? −" He asked in a breaking voice, and she smiled, so sweetly, tenderly, joyfully that his hands clenched tighter on her body.

"− yes − don't go the path I could not follow − let me stay by your side − if I am to leave this world, I want to die in your arms −" She whispered softly, and he felt that it was over for him, that whatever he had been thinking about a moment ago, it didn't matter.

"− so be it − fall with me −" He breathed out, before his lips pressed greedily into hers, his fingers digging into the material of her leather coat enclosing her in his tight embrace, their tongues colliding with each other, licking with their soft sighs of pleasure.

He thought, panting hard into her throat, caressing her with a loud click of their saliva, that he could take her now, on the grass, in front of everyone, and fuck her so hard that the whole Eyrie would hear.

This, however, did not happen.

The sight of her would-be betrothed was the last thing he wanted to see − Ronnel Arryn seemed to him to be a boastful and self-obsessed man, focused only on the tonnage of his muscles and how he presented himself.

His grin full of mockery which he threw back at him, looking at the left side of his face made him involuntarily think how pleasant it would be to just slit his throat.

He remembered why they were actually there when they walked into the circular chamber where his uncle and half-sister were waiting for them − he pressed his lips into a thin line seeing that his sister-whore dared to wear his father's crown on her head.

He said nothing.

As his wife threw herself into her mother's arms, he glanced at Daemon; his uncle stood back leaning lazily against the wall, his chin lifted slightly in some sort of challenge, a lazy, mocking smirk on his face.

"Let's sit down." He heard his sister's voice at last, but he had no intention of obeying her orders; so he stood, looking at his uncle, who also had not moved from his place, stroking the handle of his Dark Sister thoughtfully.

"My husband has conveyed to me that my brother-usurper wants to pact over the succession of the throne he himself has unlawfully taken. I must admit that this is a quite ridiculous situation." Rheanrya began, and he rolled his eyes, feeling frustrated and impatient. His wife threw him a quick, frightened glance − he, however, just looked at her, letting her speak.

He decided that he would trust her.

His niece grunted loudly and looked at her mother, adjusting herself in her seat, tense.

"My uncle, Prince Aegon, had no choice. His mother is deeply convinced that her husband, my grandfather, and our King, revealed his final will to her before he died. She mentioned to my uncle about the Prince who was promised, about Aegon's dream. I think she misunderstood him, mother, I…" She paused as Rheanyra looked quickly in Daemon's direction − he and his wife exchanged quick, shocked glances between themselves.

He furrowed his brow, feeling discomfort in his pit, wondering what they knew that might have escaped his attention.

Her mother looked at her again, some strange glint in her gaze.

"Mother?"

"Aegon the Conqueror's Dream. A Song of Ice and Fire. This is the prophecy my father spoke to me about. Whatever Alicent heard, it did not apply to her firstborn son." She said in a trembling voice, as if it was obvious to her.

He felt rage at the thought that their father had shared with his daughter some prophecy, a future that was to befall their lineage, but did not consider them, his sons, worthy of the privilege.

Humiliation, shame and anger surged through his body making his words involuntarily leave his lips.

"You mean to say that our father only conveyed the contents of this prophecy to you, but you don't believe my mother that he could have passed on to her that he changed his mind regarding the succession?" He growled, his sister and uncle throwing him quick, warning glances.

"Calm down, nephew. You are speaking to the Queen." Daemon reminded him, and he looked at him with rage.

"She is not my Queen." He hissed, his hand sliding down to the hilt of his sword when he saw Daemon's fingers tighten around his Dark Sister.

"That's enough. We have met here because Aegon realises, as you do Mother, that his and your children's rights to the throne will be challenged, and the war will not end with your death." His wife interjected, startling him as did the rest of those gathered, his heart began to pound like mad.

What?

"Are you undermining Jace, my firstborn son's right to the throne?" Her mother asked in a trembling tone, clearly not believing what she was suggesting.

Her daughter drew in a loud breath and swallowed hard before answering her.

"He's a bastard, mother. Like me, Luke and Joffrey, he cannot inherit the throne. Will you cut off my tongue for those words? Will you deprive me of my head, father?"

He looked at her with his lips slightly parted, feeling that his mind was not yet able to comprehend fully what she had actually done.

She continued, however, as if the words were pouring out of her like a river.

"We just lie and lie and lie until in the end we ourselves don't know where the truth lies, but it is there somewhere, always, and sooner or later none of us will be able to deny it even if we beheaded all the men in the Seven Kingdoms."

He felt a surge of satisfaction and warm affection shake his body at her words, at her proof that she understood him, understood his pain, understood why her brothers could not be heirs to the throne.

How could he ever doubt her?

Her mother and stepfather seemed as shocked as he was, unable to get a word out.

"How dare you say such a thing? Your father, Laenor Velaryon, has recognised you and your brothers as his heirs. He gave you his name, he recognised you as his child in the eyes of the kingdom." Her mother muttered, clearly heartbroken that her own daughter was challenging her words.

"But the whole Kingdom knows, mother. Even if Jace were to sit on the throne after your death, his lineage will not be forgotten. Are you prepared to die knowing that neither he nor his children will ever be safe? That, like my uncle's coronation, his coronation would also be challenged by lords across the Kingdom?" She asked in pain, as if she herself could no longer bear what was happening, how far they had gone in pretending what was the truth and what was a lie.

He thought that he himself would not have put into words better what he thought and acknowledged with pride that his wife was a great speaker.

That even he would have hesitated and reconsidered what she had said if he had heard the arguments spoken in this way.

"I know what humiliation you experienced, mother, and how much suffering you endured. Believe me that I did too. I, too, do not believe my grandfather would change his mind on his deathbed. I did not and do not recognise Aegon as King, nor have I ever called him that or given him the honour he deserves.

However, if we do not find an agreement, war will break out not only in the Realm, but in our family. This is what King Viserys wanted to prevent at the last supper before his death. Mother, after all, you are siblings. Your brother, though a traitor, extends his hand, he is ready to relinquish the crown he stole from you."

An awkward silence fell; Rhaenyra looked over her shoulder at her husband, apparently seeking his advice. His uncle stared at her with clenched lips, clearly believing that she should fight for her rights no matter what − even at the cost of war.

His half-sister looked at her daughter again and swallowed hard.

"I can consider the terms my husband has conveyed to me, but I also have my conditions. I will agree that it is your children who will inherit the Iron Throne, and you will be named as ruler-regents only if there are two kings, and you will be one of them.

You and your husband will share the power of the Kingdom equally and neither of you will sit on the throne or wear the crown. Aegon the Conqueror's crown and my father's crown will be kept in the treasury.

In addition, my husband and I will sit on the Small Council, and deprived of their seats will be your grandfather and Alicent. In addition, Otto Hightower will be stripped of all other functions and privileges and will reside under our oversight in King's Landing.

Jace will inherit Dragonstone as my first-born son. If no male heir is born to you, the official heirs will be the children from my and my uncle's marriage, pureblood Targaryens."

He stared at her wide-eyed, feeling the cold sweat on his back, his heart pounding like mad as his mind tried to quickly analyse what he had heard.

I will agree that it is your children who will inherit the Iron Throne, and you will only become ruler-regent if there are two kings, and you will be one of them.

You and your husband will share power in the kingdom equally and neither of you will sit on the throne or wear the crown. Aegon the Conqueror's crown and my father's crown will be kept in the treasury.

She wanted the kingdom to be ruled by two kings.

She wanted him and her daughter to have the same title, the same privileges.

He saw his niece look at him, her eyes big with terror, filled with fear of how he would react.

No, he thought.

She was no longer her daughter.

She was no longer a bastard.

She was his wife.

When he had covered her shoulders with the cloak with his family crest she had officially taken his name, and who her father was no longer mattered.

Although he knew that the name her mother had given her was different, to him she was Rhaenys.

Rhaenys Targaryen.

His childhood friend, a woman he trusted, respected, loved, whose opinion and letters he had held deep in his heart for years, whom he would have consulted if he had become king-regent anyway.

The thought that she would stand by his side, that she would help him carry this burden, that she would be like a second, necessary pillar to support the whole crumbling structure that was their family, filled him, to his surprise, not with frustration but relief.

He nodded his head.

His wife sighed quietly, looking at him with hope, turning her gaze to her mother. Rhaenyra's eyes welled with tears of grief and sorrow as she nodded, sealing her decision.

She had agreed.

Gods, she agreed.

"Pass on my words to my brother. Let him know that this is not just about my pride, but about the welfare of the Kingdom and our family. That I respect my father's will and hope that he will do the same." She said dispassionately and he nodded, feeling his whole body quiver with emotion, his hands clasped behind his back clenched into fists.

"You are surely exhausted. My cousin has prepared chambers for you where you can rest to set off on your return journey as we will tomorrow morning. Let us have supper together. I have been separated from my one daughter for too long." She said matter-of-factly and he swallowed hard feeling that he had completely frozen.

No.

None of them could stay here.

He couldn't propose that they fly to King's Landing knowing that they would surely disagree, so in desperation he proposed something that shocked everyone, including himself.

"No." He said coolly. "We'll spend the night in Dragonstone."

His niece beamed all over, her cheek blushing with happiness, as if she didn't believe his words.

"Do you mean it?" She asked sweetly like a little child to whom he had just given a wonderful surprise.

He felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought.

"Yes." He replied calmly, glancing at his uncle, who was squinting, watching him intently. "As an expression of my goodwill."

Daemon tapped the tip of his tongue against the wall of his cheek and hummed under his breath, a tense silence fell between them.

His wife was right.

He had the feeling that his gaze was piercing him to the core.

He muttered under his breath and looked at his wife − Rhaenyra, like his niece, seemed shocked by his proposal, but also pleased at the prospect of her daughter returning to her family home, if only for a while.

"Well…I see no objection. Daemon?" She asked her husband, who looked at his daughter. Apparently, something in her pleading gaze made him decide to remain silent for the time being, as he merely nodded his head in wordless agreement.

He closed his eyes and sighed quietly in relief, feeling a huge stone fall from his heart.

He stepped back, allowing Rhaenyra to leave, just behind her the room left Daemon throwing him one vigilant, mocking look telling him that he knew there was something more behind his words.

His wife, however, overwhelmed by excitement and joy, seemed not to notice it − she ran to him and snuggled into him, clasping her hands on his back, his arms immediately enclosing her in a tight, secure embrace.

He hadn't betrayed her.

He would never betray her.

So why did he feel so guilty?

"There are no words in which I can describe my gratitude to you. "She whispered, burying her face in his chest; he sighed heavily, pressing his lips to the top of her head, stroking her soft hair and neck with his fingers.

"I'm proud of you." He said calmly wanting her to know that he admired what she had done, the calmness in which she had presented his side's reasons while showing understanding and respect for her mother's rights and heritage.

He thanked the gods that he knew when to shut his mouth.

She looked at him and smiled shyly, as if his words surprised and embarrassed her. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, pressing her soft lips to his, and he murmured low, feeling a tightness in his throat.

He should tell her, he thought with pain, but he didn't know how.

He didn't want to spoil this beautiful moment.

So he kept silent, but the guilt, the fact that he was hiding something from her, pressed down on his shoulders like a huge burden, through which he could experience neither relief nor satisfaction that Rhaenyra had agreed to their terms.

He never expected to fly through the skies beside Larax, Caraxes and Syrax, to ever see Dragonstone, to propose a journey there of his own accord.

He felt shame filling him.

As he and his wife stepped inside their fortress, where their children were already waiting for them, an awkward silence ensued. Jace and Luke stood behind a large stone table that resembled the shape of all of Westeros, looking at him in disbelief and horror. He shuddered when he saw that Rhaena was the first to rush ahead, sidestepping him and her father, enclosing his wife in a sincere, tender embrace.

"I'm so happy you're alive." She muttered in a breaking voice – his niece stroked her back with a smile.

"Me too." He heard her whisper.

After a moment, Baela joined them, throwing him a cold, warning glance along the way, from which he only rolled his eyes. He looked again at Luke, who swallowed hard and lowered his gaze, clearly unable to bear his presence.

He felt disgusted at the sight of them, two boys with cheeks flushed from shame, who knew full well that they did not and should not have any claim to the throne.

He grinned involuntarily at the thought, seeing how pale Jace was, that he understood for certain that their presence meant he would officially cease to be his mother's heir.

Satisfaction as sweet as poison coursed through his veins at the thought.

Jace drew in a breath at the sight of his grimace, his hands clenched into fists as if he felt like lashing out at him − he flinched when Daemon stepped in front of him, standing between them and shook his head.

Jace swallowed hard, furious, lowering his gaze to the stone floor beneath his feet.

None of them came up to greet his niece; only little Joffrey ran up to her and burst into tears screaming that she had left them alone.

They resented her for the side she had chosen in their minds.

She was the only reason they were both still alive, he thought with a sneer.

His half-sister, seeing the look on his face and sensing the tension that reigned around them, decided to take pity on them and suggested that they make themselves comfortable in the chamber that had previously belonged to his wife.

He accepted her words with relief.

As they stepped inside he felt a squeeze in his throat − her quarters were modest, filled with her scent, the windows of her room facing the open sea, the sound of which he could clearly hear. He walked deeper in, looking around her chests of drawers and wardrobes, her wooden bookcases filled to the brim with books, before his gaze finally settled on an ornate oak desk.

He swallowed hard imagining her seated figure bent over parchment.

"− is this here? −" He asked casually, running his fingers over the table top, noticing with a pained heart that it was dusty.

A sign of how long she had not been here.

His niece looked at him surprised and blushed, as if the mere mention embarrassed her.

"− yes −"

He sat down in the chair she sat in every time she wished to convey her thoughts to him, to put them on paper, which then flew all the way to King's Landing to reach his hands. He glanced towards the windows, wondering how many times she had deliberated on choosing the right words while observing exactly the same view.

He thought he was touched.

"− we should rest, husband − if that's what you wish, we'll have supper alone −" She said softly, her voice trembling with excitement and joy.

She couldn't believe she was home again.

He nodded, not knowing what more he could answer.

He had felt the tension all evening; his wife had shown him various books she had read over the years, which she had told him about in her letters. He tried to listen to her and nod, stroking her arm with the tips of his fingers as she sat beside him, flicking through page after page of one of the volumes, looking for the quote she had mentioned to him. Her question pulled him out of his musings.

"− uncle − will you tell me what troubles you? −"

He looked at her horrified and swallowed with difficulty − he only grunted, not knowing what he should answer like a child caught in the act.

"I'm tired." He replied acknowledging that this was partly true. She nodded in understanding, he closed his eyelids as her hand gently stroked his cheek.

"Let's go to bed."

He wasn't going to fight her.

He wanted to leave this place as soon as possible and get away from Daemon's disturbing gaze.

His wife pressed her lips together, seeing that he had put a dagger under his pillow before he lay down − however, she said nothing, knowing he might trust her, but certainly not her family.

He lay down beside her, sighing heavily, and closed his eyes, figuring that perhaps when he woke up the next day and realised that tragedy had been avoided due to his decision, his conscience would have a little more mercy for him.

He murmured contentedly as he felt her arms embrace him, cuddling his face between her breasts, the warmth of her body, her scent filling his entire lungs. He tightened his hands on her back, trying to focus only on the touch of her hands, on her fingers combing gently through his hair, on the lullaby she hummed softly under her breath, and from which his eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

When the moon rises

over the dark sky

When you hear from afar

my bitter cry

Know that I long

When the sun rises

over the bright sky

When you hear from afar

my joyful cry

Know that I'm home

And then sleep fell over him.

His lips clung to her soft, long neck, sweaty from exertion, heavy, drawn-out sighs full of pleasure left his lips as his hips with sure, deep, quick thrusts pounded again and again into her hot, fleshy interior.

"− forgive me − I've missed you − oh, my sweetest −" He breathed out, quickening his pace, sinking his nose into her dark curls, her moans muffled by the pillow she was cuddling her face into. Her body, though different, was just as warm, her scent, though different, was similar to hers.

It didn't matter to him, because she was there for him, because she had forgiven him.

"− I love you − oh fuck, Rhaenys −" He muttered, clenching his eyes, coming inside her at last, experiencing such immense relief that he cursed for another moment, rocking his hips inside her. He swallowed hard, worried that she wasn't saying anything, his fingers took strands of her hair from her face wanting to see her eyes and then he saw it.

Green irises, luscious as grass.

"− is it true? − is she carrying your child? −" He heard her voice as if from afar and suddenly he was standing in front of her in his chamber in King's Landing, feeling his heart pounding like mad, a cold sweat running down his back.

He felt a strong gag reflex and held it back with the remnants of his strong will.

He couldn't get anything out of himself.

What had he done?

"− answer me − is she carrying your child? −" His wife, his Rhaenys muttered in a voice breaking with pain and despair, her cheeks red from tears, her eyebrows arched in rage, in her gaze something he feared most.

Disgust.

"− I − I don't know −" He mumbled, trying to remember what had actually happened, how he could have done it when, after all, he had promised himself it would never, never happen.

He thought about how he hadn't touched her in so long, how he had missed her so much.

When she discovered that he had hidden the truth from her, what his grandfather had planned, that he knew what could have happened to them in the Eyrie but hadn't told her, she hadn't slept in his chamber, hadn't eaten supper with him, hadn't spoken to him or looked at him even though he had tried so hard to please her.

"− don't you know? − don't you know if you put your bastard inside her? −" She mumbled and burst out into a loud, miserable sob, hiding her face in her hands − he looked at her, panting hard, shaking all over, not knowing what he was supposed to say, what he was supposed to do.

"− HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!? −" She almost screamed, falling to her knees as if without strength, whining loudly like some kind of animal, her whole being trembling and twitching in convulsions − he approached her quickly, kneeling beside her, trying to touch her, but she pushed him away.

"− my beloved − please − I was possessed by madness, I swear − I − I thought it was you −" He muttered, not knowing how he could explain such a betrayal, such humiliation she suffered because of him.

"− you thought it was me? − you fucked another woman and thought it was me? − gods, Aemond, don't touch me! − don't touch me −" She howled, her voice at once enraged, full of pain, suffering and grief, her eyes red with tears, her whole body quivering.

He was the reason for this.

He had done this to her.

"− my Prince − my Prince, quickly, your wife! −" He heard someone shout – he shuddered as he sat by the fireplace, gazing in horror at the figure of the guard who had rushed into his chamber.

As he stepped out into the corridor he heard someone's loud sobs and screams tearing at his heart; as he ran inside he froze noticing the figure of Rheaenyra kneeling on the floor, covering her mouth with her hand − his wife, and her daughter, was hanging from a rope tied to the frame of her bed, which was tightened around her neck, her dark hair covering her bowed head, her feet not touching the floor.

He ran to her trying to lift her, trying to pull her down, but he knew, felt, that it was too late, her body cold, numb, empty.

His face sank into her flesh covered only by the material of her nightgown muffling his loud, desperate scream.

"Uncle! Uncle, please, wake up!"

He opened his eyes and pulled himself up to sit down, panting heavily, feeling his heart pounding like mad – he could see nothing through the tears that one by one ran down his face, his body twitching all over in convulsions as if it had gone into a state of absolute panic.

"− easy, my love − breathe −" He heard someone's voice beside him, her voice – he looked at her as if he didn't recognise her, her eyes wide in terror, her hand stroking his shoulder reassuringly.

"− Rhaenys − Rhaenys −" He mumbled out like a small child calling out to its mother, bursting into sobs of relief and terror that shook his body − he snuggled into her breast, clasping his fingers on her back so tightly that she hissed in pain – however, she did not push him away and her arms enclosed him in a tight, secure embrace.

"− I'm here, my love − I'm here −" She whispered, again and again placing warm, moist kisses on the top of his head, combing her fingers through his hair.

For a moment he merely wept and quivered, unable to catch his breath, trying to calm himself, listening to her whisper, breathing in her scent, enjoying her closeness, the touch of her hand.

It seemed to him that it was hours before he began to breathe normally, before he realised that all he had seen was just a nightmare, that he was lying with his wife in her bed in Dragonstone.

That all was not yet lost.

He swallowed hard and clenched his eyes shut.

"− there's something − there's something I want to tell you −"

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penaltyboxboxbox · 2 days

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adding to my fandom annoyingness thoughts- i think f1/sports fandoms generally are less annoying because there is a part of them that is socially acceptable and able to be performed in public as well as with people who may not full "get it". a super online f1 fan who ships yaoi and whathaveyou can often times, still go to a real life gp and have a fairly normal conversation with like, a regular degular f1 fan who checks instagram- because if they say, both like ferrari, they are watching the same races/supplementary content, theyre at this real life event with hundreds upon thousands of others, with that one shared thing in common, youre all rooting for that team to win. even if you disagree about the minutia, you all want your team to win.

in more niche fandom spaces, like kids cartoons or specific anime or years old tv series, theres not mass real life gatherings. theres cons, but unless your fandom is huge you might not have a meet up, and again, even if you like the same things, youre not necessarily all there with the same hope/mindset... and i think with there just being a lot less socially acceptable ways to display and interact with those types of fandom in the general public, it leads to the online spaces becoming very fraught because it is the only space people have to defend. Without specifically outlined pockets of who is "safe" or "right" you start to get those who overreach into trying to expel ppl from fandom they dont think should be there, you get more arguing about how to be a fan the right way or splintering something that was never meant to be consumed in a divided way........but its done in an effort to fit in/feel like you have a space to be a nerd properly...idk im rambling now i just things its so fascinating having been in so many fandoms in my life

#idk what to tag im sorry ill stop now

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alitheakorogane · 2 days

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Just a Normal Genshin Impact Game Time... Is it?

This SAGAU fanfic was actually created like a year ago (March 15, 2023), but decided to redo this again. This was created during the time I was still Venti-less, so this one was like a story of me trying to cope at that time.

And yes, my latest fanart coincidentally fits this story too! I just stumbled on this back when I tried to scroll on my drafts while waiting for the fanart to be posted.

CW: blood, violence, and murder. Be warned.

You were just playing Genshin Impact on your computer like any other day, just doing the usual stuff you always do every time you login like doing the daily commissions and farming domains to build your characters.

One day, after doing your usual Genshin dallies for the day, you decided to take some scenic pictures with your current team on board and explore Teyvat to look for random chests and hidden quests you may miss. You know, to pass the time and possibly scrounge for primogems to farm for your favorite character.

But as you try to explore the place while trying to find a good spot to take pictures, you couldn't shake the feeling that something is wrong, that something or someone was watching you.

You were confused at first, on why you are feeling like that. But you just shrugged, as you may think you just had too much coffee. After all, you love coffee to the bone.

As you took Kokomi to a scenic place somewhere in Mondstadt, you had noticed something strange that was hidden by a canopy of trees, few meters behind the current character. You squinted a little bit, your eyes still trying to figure out the culprit of your distraction.

There was a figure hidden behind the trees.

------

At first, you mistook it as a rock or something inanimate but you then noticed that it was actually a person when it moved. It was not an NPC or random animal, but an actual playable character. After all, you could recognize that outfit even from afar, as Genshin Impact characters had some unique styles that were fit for their personalities and status.

It was Venti, hiding in a tree from far away, with eyes glaring at you.

Your heart nearly burst out of your chest when you saw him as you quickly exit the camera mode, trying to find some explanation of why he was there, to begin with. Maybe there's an event that he had been with?

You checked the quest menu to check for any Mondstadt-related events that you probably never finished, but to your horror, there was nothing. You looked at some guides online, some clues onto why he was there, that there may be an event from other nations that had him as a guest, but to no avail. You remembered that you already did his story quest and the quests that he was actually involved in-game. Maybe it's a glitch?

With a shaky grip, you closed the quest menu and stared at the same spot again. Venti was still there behind the tree, watching you with soulless eyes.

You were shaking in fear as you were also staring at him.

As you were still frozen on your seat, trying to make sense of everything, the figure dressed as Venti suddenly pointing something at your Kokomi, his soulless eyes still looking at your terrified ones, like he was a rabid dog vying for attention.

You suddenly recognized what he was trying to do. He was pointing out his former signature weapon, the iconic Skyward Harp, at you.

"Wait, isn't the Elegy of the End his new signature weapon?" You muttered out as your mind had tried to remember about Venti. You were a fan of him, so it would be in your forte to remember every single detail about him.

You remember that even his weapon was already changed to Elegy of the End during his consecutive reruns due to the new bow fits his kit than Skyward Harp, the latter was still his signature weapon in lore.

In the corner of your eye, you noticed something weird once again, this time on the map.

Apparently, the map shows you that there is a second player on the map, and that player was near your vicinity. You widened your eyes as you remembered that you didn't do any co-op with a Venti main recently and you don't even have a Venti. And to your horror, even your co-op mode wasn't even turned on!

------

You had remembered that you always wanted Venti, but due to your impatient nature, you had decided to build pity and accidentally won Kokomi twice on the last day of her banner. You got C1 Kokomi instead.

Unfortunately, Venti's banner was next and you regretted that he never came home. You had lost your 50/50 to your very first Qiqi at 75 pulls... At the end of his rerun banner.

...this is weird and unsettling, so you decided to quit the game, but to your horror, you can't even access the damned menu, soft locking you out.

As you saw Venti's creepy smile while he was sadistically hitting your main team with his anemo-infused arrows, you were horrified at what happened next.

You watched your entire team being stabbed by his arrows, blood splattering on the screen like a grotesque painting, and your current team crying for mercy and help as they were hit by the arrows the Anemo Archon in disguise had been aiming at them and they were frozen in spot because of some twisted form of code that the game had, instead of them doing their usual lines while being on low HP or fallen down. And you couldn't even make them run by pressing the buttons to move the character you currently have because you're frozen in fear as you saw the character pleading for you to make them run away from the crazed fellow using your keyboard and mouse but you didn't. You didn't even help them survive.

You remembered that characters that had fallen down were supposed to turn into glowing white dust instead of this... bloody mess you were witnessing.

This isn't right!

It was like you were playing a horror game rather than a simple open-world RPG game.

Then while the carnage was happening, there is an in-game text that was showing up while this is happening, of Venti still happily singing his ballads while doing the unthinkable. As if he was gleefully watching you squirm.

You couldn't help but close the game in a blink of an eye after you witnessed the scene by trying to turn off the computer and decided to never touch the game again. Thankfully, your computer turned off, but it had left you traumatized.

You decided to uninstall the game after rebooting the computer. The usual uninstall window had appeared with a picture of a chibified Amber crying showed up and a message about asking if you were really uninstalling the app, as if beckoning you not to delete the game, but you insisted and still pressed the uninstall button.

You decided to leave your room while leaving the computer to do its duty to uninstall the cursed stuff, but after you went outside for some fresh air, the uninstall window that was supposed to show a chibified Klee signifying the game had been uninstalled, glitched for a second.

Venti's creepy smile was seen in a split second on the entirety of the computer screen instead of the window with Klee, with some words written in glitchy Teyvatian language then in glitchy English that was flickering in the screen before it turns normal once again.

Y̸̩͂̆̇̌̾͑͂̄́͠o̴̢̧̫̖̫̥̗̞̖͘ͅṳ̸̢̨̽͆͑̀̔̍̃́̐̄̚ͅ ̸̡̥͙̞̎͗̔͋̔̄ẘ̷̽̃̒͑͑́̔̏͜i̶̳̺͔̼̺̘̙̙̭͑̒͑̉̕l̵̨̛̗̟̟͔̆̅̓͛̅̔l̸̢̹̠͋̊̔́͠ͅ ̷̛͎̮̯̬͇͔͉̗̪́̌͌̄͒̃͘ͅn̸̫̺̼͎̺͓͈͊̿́̔̀̔̈́̈̋̄e̵̬͎̳͊́͂̓̍͂̈́̏͜͝v̸͇̥̩̲̫̪̐̀̌͛̾͛ͅe̴̤̲̺̜̱̫̭̪̝̠͗̓̍̍͜r̶̻͉̳̩̈̑ ̴̨̛̬͉̜̮̰̬͖͕̩̬̑̈́́ẽ̶̡͎̱̰̩̖̫͚̈͋̆̄s̵̺̹͎͍͖̠̥̮̾̊͊̅́͜c̴̛̟͂̾̉̑̑̕ḁ̴̡̛̗̍̏̓̂̍̌̋ṕ̵̬̗̜͓͍̬̍̂͘ȩ̵̧̖̞͕̭̘̭̥̈́̕ͅ ̷̺̣͙̇̀̓͝T̴͇̥̠̦̹̼͇̼͓̘̍̿̎͛̎̽̍͛e̷͕͕̼̟͖̾y̸͖̠̰͖͚̺͆͒̋͐̓v̷̢̛̘͈̹͍̱͚a̴͍̦̠̮̱͌͒̉͋͂͘͘͝͠ͅt̷̢̡̹̍͗͗ ̷̧̛̠̫̘̮͔͍̰̻̙͎̃͋͌̀͛n̸̹̪̦̪̼͔̝̦̠͚̿́̌̋̀͋̒o̶̧̡͉͕̹̠͈̰̰̦̓̌̎̈́̌̈̏͗̕̚͝t̵̖̝̫̩̖̼̯̟͑͠ ̴̟̙̑̀̔͒͝ͅm̸̛̤͇͙̰̬̼̳̩̥͌̒͑̒̉̈́͐̑̉͘͜ͅė̸̢̺̟̜̓̂̑̊,̸̗̠̯̀͋̋̂̚͜ ̸͓̬̗͙̘͓̫̖͖̇̎͌̍̉̓̇͊̕̚͘m̸̤̦͖̟̪̓y̴̨̪̦̘̖̘͔̻͈̮̋̃̈́͐ͅ ̴̠̠͓̜͇̮̰̈̅͊̉̾̂̀̊͝d̸̛̝̋̌͌̑͛͂̉͋̌͝e̵̘̖͇̥͙̊̀̈͛̎͋̈͗́͊͘ͅa̷̭̹̘̖̗̫̱̮͛̐͝ͅŗ̶̬̻͕̓ę̴̻̱̥̄̈̈́̏s̸̮̉̓͂̐̈̀̅̈́̕t̸̢̢̰͙̪̥͔̘͉͙̋̈̃̀̈́̅ ̸͇̹̘̺̫͓̲͔̣͑̉W̶̝͙̱͇͉̥̬͇̽̔̉ì̷̢̨͈͓̟̮͖̞̪̠̹̅̈́̂̒̀̕n̶̢̨̬͚͕̟̻͙͙̾̂̊̍̇̉̎͛̿̕d̸̼̮̮̮̳̜̾͛́̽̇b̴̮̎̽̆̄͛́̽l̴̛͓̓͌̉́͝͝ŭ̴̓̓͗̒́̈́̈̂͜m̶̛̛̛͔̯͔͎̣͕̩̙̊̉̈̊̕͜͝e̶̼̰͙͚̗̪̙̮̓̑̀͒̎̂̑̿̚ͅ,̵̲̭̘̬̟̻͇̊̏̀̇͒́̎͌ ̵̛̟͍̮͉̮͒̅̃͗̓̕̚͝͝n̷͍̲͉͉̤͔̥̮̞̼͐͐͜͝ò̵̝̂̐̎̐̚ ̵̧̢̮̹̣͈̦͉̻͘m̵̡̧͚̟̗̯̗̩̥̫̦̈́̍̃a̷͎̪͎̬͕͔̜̮̠̒͌̆͐̏̌̈́̄͜͝͝t̵̡͚̬̰͓͍͈̱͋̅́͌̊̌́͝ť̵̨͈̹͈̦͕̬̽̈̿̋̃̍̊̉̃ê̴̢̛̟̺̰̈́͂̈̽̍͐̓̆͘r̴̢̲̝̀̈̀͝ ̵̢̥̗̹͍͔̘̙͔̀w̴̤̻̣̅̐̈̀͊͋́͐͘͝ͅh̶̘̥̟̖͎̦͖̬͛̎̐̎͛a̵̛̲͎̬̼̫̳͑̆̆͝t̶̨̛̘̗̪͔̭̥̀̐.̶̼̗̓̎̽̇̑̆͛͠

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nomazee · 3 days

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Greetings! Would it be okay if I request bodyguard!Dan Heng x celebrity!Reader with a 19:58 timestamp? I hope it's okay, thanks in advance.

i think my dan heng favoritism is showing because this is the longest drabble i've written for this event so far,,, i love dan hen hsr,,, THANK U FOR UR REQUEST :**

my 1k event!

—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—

The airport is much too bright for Dan Heng’s taste. The reflectiveness of the linoleum floor tiles and the beaming LED lights make him squint as he guides you towards the baggage terminal.

“That was fun!” your enthusiasm is almost painful compared to how exhausted Dan Heng feels. There’s no hint of a drag in your steps or a lull in your words as you head towards the carousels, on the lookout for a sky blue and neon green striped suitcase—courtesy of you, of course. You asked Dan Heng for his opinion when you were first buying it, claiming that it would be easy to recognize among the sea of plain, typical suitcases. Truthfully, it was an eyesore, but you looked so happy about it, so he just nodded along.

“Fun? You’re not tired?” he asks. Your atrocity of a suitcase is, in fact, easily spotted, and Dan Heng goes to pick it up for you. Luckily, his is on the same carousel, and he takes up both in his hands before turning back to you. “It was a long flight. You’ll be jet-lagged for a bit.”

“Oh, I’m definitely tired,” you admit, engaging in a wordless struggle with Dan Heng as he fights against your attempt to take your own suitcase from him. He has yet to engage in an actual fight as a bodyguard (or do much at all, really), so he might as well help out by being your glorified bag-carrier. It makes him feel less guilty about the paycheck he gets every two weeks. “But being in first-class was so exciting! You didn't think so?”

Exciting is certainly a way to describe it. For most of the ten-hour flight, Dan Heng was trying to not puke in a paper bag in front of you in fear that he’d embarrass himself, and then get fired. He hadn’t been on a flight in years, and sitting through one that’s that long was not the best way to ease back into it. It would be embarrassing to admit out loud, but you have a way of reading through him, so he divulges as much of the truth as he can stomach.

“There was… it was shakier than I thought. But it wasn’t loud, which was good.”

“I meant, like, the food and stuff! And the hot towels that they gave us.”

Of course you’d be excited over something like a hot towel. He tries not to look down at the (objectively) ugly suitcase that he’s successfully torn from your hands, but it’s all very you and he can’t help but be reminded of every single one of your habits.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, instead of talking more about the plane, because he’ll seriously be sick if he keeps replaying the turbulence in his head. “The portions were small on the plane. We can check into the hotel first and then find somewhere to eat.”

A sigh escapes you, lighthearted as you swat Dan Heng’s arm with your hand. You both walk through the confusing maze of the airport and eventually find the exit, stepping into fresh air for the first time in a while. “I’ll get you dramamine on the flight back, Dan Heng. Maybe then you’ll be clear-headed enough to understand how nice the hot towels were.”

You’ve clocked him, saw right through him and pried your incessant way in and offered him a motion sickness pill while you were at it. He tries to ignore the flush of his cheeks as he watches you smile from his peripheral, but it’s hard to ignore when it’s all that he can feel right now.

“The— food,” he stutters, because he’s a fool and would like to lay down already. “What would you like to get? It’s a little late, but you should get some dinner.”

“Whatever you want, Dan Heng,” and he looks to his side to see you smiling at him, so warm and familiar and he’s really, really trying not to puke on the sidewalk right now for a variety of reasons. He ignores you again, because that’s his best way to cope, and hails a taxi before cramming in both your suitcases in a flustered haste.

In the backseat of the car, you lean against Dan Heng’s side and open up Google Maps, scrolling through all the restaurants near your hotel. The line of your arm presses into Dan Heng’s, and his attention is flitting between that feeling and the bright icons on your screen, different foreign names and descriptions of food popping up.

“I don’t feel like sitting down for a full dinner,” you admit, mercilessly skipping any restaurant that has things like tablecloths and candles and small plates. “Something to take back to the hotel would be nice. Oh—” you bring your phone closer to his face as if he can’t already see it crystal clear, “—the menu for this looks good! They have some of your favorites.”

Dan Heng skims through it and finds that they do, in fact, have a suspicious amount of his favorites. There’s a prideful look on your face, hiding the fact that you likely spent an hour researching local restaurants to find something Dan Heng likes. It embarrasses him and makes him have hopes, like a fool. You treat him less like a bodyguard, more like a close assistant—a position that you’ve never actually had filled, which makes his suspicions (and hopes) grow day by day. Really, it’s more like a close friend, a partner, and he likes that thought more than he’s comfortable admitting.

He mumbles something like okay, looks good, and the grin on your face only grows brighter and cheesier. He’s forced to look away from you and stare out the car window instead, watching the passing city lights against the dark background of the autumn night, in a country that he covertly learned the language of, so that he could guide you around a little better—in a country that you spent an hour looking up restaurants in, so that Dan Heng would have something to eat.

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

gen taglist: @tragedy-of-commons @lasiancunin

fill out my event taglist (pinned) or general taglist (navi) to be tagged in upcoming works!

#hsr x reader #dan heng x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai x reader #hsr dan heng x reader #honkai dan heng x reader #honkai: star rail x reader #oh dan heng my first and forever love #this is 1k words i literally broke my word limit for him #im just a common dan heng enjoyer nothing to see here...

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batsplat · 3 days

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February 2014 (text from Mat Oxley's The Valentino Rossi Files: Everything I've ever written about VR: From 2008 to now):

During the winter the nine-time champ spent more time than usual thrashing round his dirt track ranch, keeping himself mentally and physically sharp and getting used to a motorcycle moving around beneath him. He knows that Marc Marquez’s ability to ride on the ragged edge with a more muscular, more sideways style is changing MotoGP, so he needs to change with it. Rossi may never look as spectacular as Marquez on a dirt bike or a MotoGP bike, but both his former and current crew chiefs believe he can do better than he did last year, when Marquez made him look rather second rate.

Rossi on inviting Marquez to the ranch:

"Yeah, for sure, a lot of time. But I think that Emilio [Alzamora, Marquez's manager] is not very happy that Marc come because he said that after we make a race and maybe it's dangerous." (x)

A Sideways Glance at Misano 2014, including pre-event karting on Wednesday night where Marquez reportedly struggled:

Misano 2014 (text from Mat Oxley's Valentino Rossi: All His Races):

^ Márquez won the first ten races of 2014 and this was the first time all year he was beaten in a straight duel. He couldn't handle Rossi's pace at Misano, so he ended up losing the front and falling.

Valentino was fast throughout practice and secured his first front-row start of 2014. [Rossi was asked after qualifying about the threat posed by Marquez and Lorenzo, identifying Lorenzo as the favourite before adding, "But you never know with Marc. He's a bastard."] In the race he rode better than in years, hanging his upper body inside the motorcycle more than ever before to increase turning. He snatched the lead from Lorenzo and then fended off Márquez, who struggled to find enough grip to match Vale. At one-third distance the world champion pushed it too far and slid off, so Vale cruised home 1.6 second ahead of Lorenzo. His crew had done a great job of creating maximum grip via adjustment to chassis balance and electronics set-up. His 107th GP victory showed he was once again as fast as anyone, because when he won at Assen 2013 he didn't have to beat Márquez, Lorenzo or Pedrosa, who were all injured. "It's fantastic to come back to victory again," he beamed after his first win with [new crew chief Silvano] Galbusera. "I knew we could fight and I pushed from the start. I always work hard and never give up and trust that days like this can happen."

^ The breakthrough win at Misano. For the first time since his return to Yamaha he had gone head-to-head with Jorge Lorenzo and Marc Márquez and beaten them both. From this moment another world title was a possibility.

youtube

(x for more details)

Aragon 2014 press conference:

Rossi: Revenge at the ranch! No, first of all, we enjoy a lot, because have a lot of riders and also from superbike and a lot of bike on the track and was a good day, yeah. Marc was very fast, already fast like me at the first time, as always, and I think he did the best lap time but I won the race so is 1-1, so is... come si dice, pareggio pareggio [tied]. Marquez: Yeah, yeah, was really nice, you know, I was really [impressed] to see his circuit, his home, because in the future I would like to have, because was impressive and riding there was all the riders was really nice and... like Valentino says, we were there fighting together like in Misano race more or less, but yeah... the important thing is that we enjoy it and was really nice to ride there with him and also with the other riders.

Valentino Rossi, Marc Marquez and the Ranch

#rosquez #//#4693 #2014 ranch #cleaning my drafts at last... i was initially just gonna include the stuff i've not seen shared but uh might as well throw in everything #'i also invited valentino' 'don't worry he's not going to invite me' 'you saw a very raw kid looking up to a hero' *chews pillow*#'i think he did the best lap time but i won the race' does tickle me. as if he doesn't remember exactly #one thing i do find interesting about the ranch visit is that vale's not really spoken about it again #my scientific analysis is that the presser vibes for the rest of 2014 were good but make a sharp-ish downturn Pretty Early in 2015 #very valentino for the ranch to represent both respect and cooperation between riders as well as his relentless desire to win #went to double check that tweet was legit and. uh. heartbreaking: man named chad reed has awful political opinions

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teejaystumbles · 1 day

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Against all odds (part 7)

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6

This is all I've got so far but I figured I'd let you have it and hopefully I'll have more soon :3

Hob works at a news agency. As someone with hundreds of years of experiencing political and societal change he has a keen eye for news-worthy happenings. Often he can predict very well which events are important, which will have historical influence or be the talk of the nation for a long time. Hob edits his colleague’s articles and reports, chooses which ones are worthy of printing and which aren’t, tries to remove or at least mitigate the xenophobia and fearmongering in what he hopes are the last days of the Cold War. People don’t need fear to grow, they need hope. He thinks he’ll stop doing this soon, though. His name - Robert Goulding at the moment - pops up in too many places and he doesn’t like being recognizable for more than a few decades. He takes care to not become chief editor and stay out of the limelight but he thinks he’ll move on soon. Maybe he’ll take a break and live off his stock profits. Find a quiet place for him and his stranger, somewhere in the countryside, with a garden…

Hob shakes himself out of his fantasy and laughs at himself. Wishful thinking will hardly be of any use. He’s been wishing and hoping for more time with his stranger for so many centuries. Now it finally seems like he might get lucky enough to have regular contact, via journal entries, and maybe even visits. That is enough. He shouldn’t be greedy.

With a sigh and a silent curse that he stopped smoking he goes to finish his work so he can get home and write an answer to his friend.

In the evening Hob pours himself a whiskey and sits down at his desk, open journal before him. He looks over to his bed. His stranger had sat here last night, watching him. Hob swallows reflexively and takes another sip of his drink, trying to not let his thoughts go down a slippery, horny slope before he starts writing.

June 15th, 1989

Dear friend,

I am glad you felt you could come and visit me and that you feel safe in my presence. I consider it an honour and I want to assure you that I do not mind in the least if you stop by whenever you feel like it. I trust you. Feel free to come here anytime, no matter if I'm awake or not, or if I’m even here. If my place can be a retreat for you from your everyday worries or workplace (as I assume you are busy doing something somewhere), I would be very happy. Leave your shoes off the sofa, that’s all I ask. ;-)

But seriously, my home is your home. I mean it. I look forward to seeing you again as well.

Reading about your ordeal was horrible. I am so sorry this happened to you and that I didn’t hear anything about it. I would have moved everything between Heaven and Earth to free you, my friend, please believe me. You say the ones responsible have been punished but I cannot stop myself from imagining visiting vengeance upon them for your sake. To imprison you someone, anyone, for such a long period of time, in the conditions that you described, is barbaric and the rage I feel at the mere thought is nearly blinding.

I am deeply sorry for your loss and for all you had to endure. I would give you anything in my power to make you feel safe, dear stranger. If you ever need my help, please call me. I don’t know if you had any means to call for help, you probably didn’t, but please - should you ever be in any trouble or danger or in need of help, I urge you to call on me! I will come and help you the best I can, I will not allow you to be trapped ever again. After all, what are friends for, if not for helping one another?

Your problems with closed spaces and strangers are completely understandable and I would never hold it against you if you never want to meet inside a building again. I hope we’ll be able to find a suitable replacement for the old haunt, at least until you feel more at ease again. These things take time, at least for humans, and although I would not dare to insinuate that you are not more robust than the average human and probably not subject to the same physical and mental limits I’d wager a guess that you will need time to heal, my friend. I sincerely ask you to take that time. You strike me as the type to jump headfirst back into work and duty after getting free and that is not recommended, no matter what or how powerful you are. You were imprisoned for 80 years and subjected to torture, you cannot expect to be the same after that. No one should expect you to be the same, to not be changed by it or in need of healing and time to recuperate.

I am only human but in my long life I have met a few other immortal beings, not all of them human but all of them with very similar needs and wants. I know you’re probably bristling right now because I dare to suggest you might be unfit for whatever it is you do but I hope you believe me when I tell you this only because I care for you - you need a break. Please, stranger, promise me you’ll take care of yourself, if you cannot let others do that for you. I would be happy to help in any way I can. Visit me at your leisure, I promise I will never turn you away, or look down on you for showing weakness. You have seen me at my lowest and I have always trusted you to still respect me after that. Just like that, I would never think any less of you for any of this.

I’ll be happy to help you learn more about humanity, get to know humans again. I am honoured that you have elevated me in your mind to something else but I am as human as they come. So if you like me, you can like other humans as well, right?

I will think of a nice place to meet and let you know as soon as I’ve decided. Remember, in the meantime this place is always open to you. Even including watching me sleep. ;-P

Stay safe,

Your friend Hob

Hob puts down the pen and skims over his lines. Yes, that’s not too forward but inviting enough to let his stranger feel safe and welcome. It’s a bit daring, calling his stranger in need of a break, but it’s the right thing to say and offer.

He nods, downs his whiskey and gets ready for bed.

#stay tuned for another dream😘#dreamling #the sandman fanfiction #1989 au #teejay writes

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blueballsracing · 1 day

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Can u help me understand Lestappen please? I’m trying to get into it because it’s a popular ship and I don’t want to miss out on great fics and stuff.

But I see Tumblr posts of MV and CL that scream “HEART EYES” or “HUSBANDS” and…I don’t see it. I can’t suspend my disbelief. Like I get they’ve been competing for 20 years or whatever but I don’t get anything other than profesh respect. And when we regularly see how they are with other people, like MV with Daniel or Lando, or CL with Carlos, Lestappen looks even worse.

Can you please help me see the Lestappen light?

hi anon! lemme break it down for ya. the reason why lestappen is such a popular ship is bc not only of the mutual respect that they have for each other, but the history they have, and their interactions have been pretty cute and all.

even max and lando don't really interact that much, and lando goes as far as to say that "he's not my bff, don't ever say that again" when asked about him and max's relationship. and max with daniel–well, max has always loved daniel and had a crush on that man since his first days in f1 so... different dynamic for sure. charles with carlos interactions... they are cute and all but i think their racing dynamics are just so awkward? esp i think that the ferrari politics deffo affected their relationship and all. cross-team dynamics between charles and max have a nice dynamic, but i'll break down some of the key events

lestappen lore timeline!

2012 - when the inchident occurs - you just need to watch this video. it's just so funny. no words can explain this 😭

2014 - when max essentially recommends charles to race for his old f3 team, van amersfoort racing, a dutch team. and the team boss had a lot of positive things to say about the two <3

2019 - the singapore flag incident... mr. i know geography and i love flags SOMEHOW doesn't know the difference between the singapore flag and the monaco flag

2019 - when we get to austria 2019. essentially, charles is about to win his FIRST ever f1 gp with 3 laps to go, and max pushes charles off track, overtaking him and eventually winning. charles is FURIOUS on the podium. and then they have to share a plane back home but max is all like "oh yeah we're good! 😊 he's talented and he will have his first win this year for sure! we have at least 15-20 years of racing together still! 😊" and then on the plane charles unfollows max. max does the same 😭

2022 - jumping forward to austria 2022, when charles wins the race! and they have this GAY ASS PODIUM

austria is lestappen holy ground.

2020 - when we get this wonderful clip of sebastian asking whether or not charles thinks max is pretty.

seb: is he pretty? charles: *giggles and then silence* OH WAIT. i thought you said 'is he british?' i was like, that's not physical... *panicked leg shake* i don't know!!! *laughs again*

charles not wanting to answer if max is pretty... we should take that as a yes <3

2021 - the year of their baku love tree <3 according to an old turkish custom, when a couple get married, they plant a tree together, and they water it to symbolize their marriage and their hope for leading a happy and beautiful life!

and then jumping forward to 2023 in baku, they have the SAME IDENTICAL TIME during first runs in q3. only max is first bc he did his lap first.

2022 - cota! before the press conference they talk and max goes "fresh again?" and charles starts GIGGLING. like yeah we know u were drunk celebrating 🙄

2022 - secret santa! when charles has max for secret santa and this guy just. gives him f1 2022. with THREE OF HIS FACES. and has a card and writes "one edition for my BIGGEST FAN." not normal about this at ALL.

2023 - charles admits to drinking red bull after he couldn't say in an interview but then likes a tweet later 😭

2023 - paddelgate. max loses to charles in october

and then they're supposed to play together in december!

but then... Max stays up until 4 am the night before the match (doing a 24 hour charity stream) and sleeps in and misses the entire event. 🙁

ok i could literally go on and on about them but i'm going to end it here with a couple quotes:

"Of course I have a lot of respect for Max. He has done very well and I have a lot of respect for what he has achieved. When we drove in karts, we dreamed of Formula 1 together and here we are now! He has the title I won and I have a lot of respect for that."

"I always thought that, if I'd make it to F1, Charles would also make it."

#lestappen #max verstappen #charles leclerc #f1 #formula 1 #my posts #f1 fandom #f1blr #asks #lestappen lore

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clan-of-reaching-stars · 3 days

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I appreciate how open FR Staff is being about this mess but as a writer I have so many questions as to how it got to this point.

I understand not wanting to rapidly expand the team but when you hit an event like BotE and you don't have everything written at launch you gotta look around at some point and go "are we biting off more than we can chew"

The 3 to 5 page limit on stories I'm sorry what are we, in Intro to Creative Writing? I understand an upper limit so a whole novel isn't written but like, that's a limit of ~2500 words single spaced, or, since we're apparently turning in essays 1250 words double spaced (so says google and I'm just to flabbergasted to check).

The lore not being something we can engage with until Adventure Mode. I say this affectionately but this is beginning to look like that meme (staff: "Adventure mode. Save me Adventure Mode. Adventure Mode save me.")

They were all just... doing it? I understand it is a small team and the multiple hats but see point 1. Also like, hello?!? Writing is no less of an art than well, art and like... I own Undel's how to draw dragons books. I could follow them step by step and my dragons would not be identical to hers. Similar but not the same, why would writing be different what are youndoing no wonder there's little tonal consistency.

Really my conclusion is they should've hired a dedicated lore writer years ago. (Full disclosure, when I was in college I was desperately hoping they would open the position, I would've loved to have applied but they never did... see point 4 again.)

Like much much too late now but a dedicated lore writer could've done a lot and helped with the energy high following BotE because people liked the stories, and I think more lore consistently, even if it was just short stories once a month, might've been appreciated. Especially as Adventure Mode continues to not come out and Tidelord is still missing and we had such curiosity but nowhere to direct that energy.

Like, people who know nore than I have spoken about the issues with the Auraboa article. I'm just weighing in as a writer and player, that the way they go about releasing and writing the lore also leaves a lot to be desired

#flight rising

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thedeviltohisangel · 3 days

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All The Things I Did (8): That Girl Is Going, Going, Gone

a/n: ok a bit of a different chapter! this is more cass than john & cass until we get to the main event. i PROMISE the next chapter will pick up right where this one left off (don't be mad, be excited!). lots of warnings for this chapter and hopefully you guys don't change your love for her after reading about berlin. please let me know your thoughts & send in any interlude (aka novels) requests. always open. love ya xoxo

warnings: murder, blood, death of minor character, smut

Cass looked at Will with horror as he opened a black briefcase and set it on the ground of the alley way. It looked a lot like a gun.

“Will, no one said anything about an assassination.” She had shot a gun before. Had been shot by a gun before. But she had never pointed one at another human being and pulled the trigger.

“Cass, you’ve got this. You stay steady and you’ll be fine.” She rolled her eyes. Of course he would think it was so simple. He wasn’t the one expected to pull the trigger. To take a life.

“Walk me through the plan again.”

“Dressler comes through this main drag on the way to his country estate. We track him to the edge of the woods where your asset has placed an obstacle for the car and when he gets out, you take the shot.” Cass knew it wasn’t going to go according to plan because things like this never did. Because Dressler had been on OSS’ target list for almost a year and they were the third pairing of agents to try and accomplish this task. “You scored better than me on the range. Don’t think for a second you aren’t the right choice for this.”

“And we avoid the fatal flaws from previous iterations. Don’t approach the vehicle. Maintain surveillance detection tradecraft. Make the exfil window.”

“That’s kind of a big one, isn’t it?” he smiled. She was too busy testing the weight of the weapon in her hand to notice. “I meant it when I said I’d get you back home to him.”

“You got someone to get home to?” Will shrugged.

“Thought I did. Then I got a letter last week…it’s for the best. Loving someone in this line of work isn’t for everyone.” Cass gently palmed his cheek.

“Then we’ll get you home to find someone who will make it work.” Find someone who would love those doubts right out his head the way John had for her. Find someone who’s passion for their work matched in kind. Find someone who would help him clean the blood off his hands when the war was over.

----

It was Sunday and the roads were filled with people going to and from church. Cass was in a white dress, Will in a suit, as they each smoked a cigarette while they waited for mass to let out.

“When did you start smoking?”

“I didn’t. Still don’t really drink either.” She dropped the cigarette onto the sidewalk and pressed it beneath her foot. “They take away your control over yourself. I don’t like the way they make me feel.” But she thinks she was learning to like the smell of smoke on the collar of John’s jacket. The bitter whiskey on his lips when he kissed her. The way his face flushed and his curls pressed to his forehead and his hands wandered after a night of them both. The doors opened and people began to exit the church.

“I’ll go get the car,” Will said, slipping into German with ease. Cass nodded and removed a compact from her purse. She pressed the powder to her nose as she caught sight of Dressler over her right shoulder. She counted two men who looked like SS hovering around him for protection. They escorted him to a waiting Mercedes, Will pulling up to her a few minutes after their departure. “Let’s go kill some Nazis.”

They took the occasional turn to ensure no one was following them, maintaining a safe distance from the target who was following the route from church to his compound outside of Berlin just the way they had mapped it.

“Final weapons check.” Cass pulled the chamber to ensure a bullet was loaded before releasing it back into place. “Will…if something goes wrong, we abort and get to the airfield. We don’t need to force this.”

“Copy, Lieutenant,” he smirked. “But it would be nice to be the one to knock Dressler off the list.”

“I agree but-” Her hands flew to brace against the dashboard as he slammed on the brakes. An overturned horse cart was blocking the Mercedes path and the car sat still as the occupants determined what to do.

“Come on,” Cass whispered, “Get out of the goddamn car.” The door opened and one of the SS officers got out and walked towards the cart.

“Close protection remains,” Will muttered. When the second SS officer exited, Cass began to get nervous. He walked towards her side of the car and she rolled the window down with a smile.

“Good morning, sir. Is there a problem with the road ahead?” The pistol was hidden in the fold of her skirt, her thigh acutely aware of the metal.

“Yes. We’ll need you to turn around so we can go back the way we came.” She knew there was no other way to get to the compound. Knew they were really just clearing them from the area. She opened her mouth but the words were silenced as Will whistled. The third door was opening.

Will pushed the car into reverse and rolled over the foot of the man by her door. He dropped quickly with a yell. It took one second for her to lean her body out the window. One second for Dressler to look in her direction. One second for her to shut down her humanity, inhale, exhale and pull. Between his eyes and he was gone. A man who only answered to Himmler. It was automatic for her to move the gun to the man on the ground. He had seen their faces. Looked her in the eyes and stared at her legs. A loose end and he was gone, too.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she screamed as Will took them backwards down the road as quickly as he could. The second SS officer in the car and chasing after them as quickly as he could. “What did I just do?”

“What you had to, Cass!” They both ducked as the first bullet hit the front of the car. “Hang on.” The car pulled sharply to the left as they raced through a field, another bullet pinging off the exterior of the car.

“Two minutes until takeoff.” Her watch seemed to be ticking faster than usual. As if the universe was trying to close the gap between here and home. The Mercedes gained ground and nudged the back of their car, spinning them in a circle Will couldn’t regain control of.

“Run!” They could see the clearing in the not too far off distance. Her knees hit the ground before she pushed herself up with urgency and took off at a sprint. She heard the consistent popping of a gun behind her but she kept running.

Cass collapsed on the open hatch of the low profile plane and let herself slide down as it closed, Will stumbling in right behind her.

“Do you think we did it?” she asked after they had settled for a moment. “Will?” She turned her head and noticed he looked a little pale. His breathing was labored. He turned and looked at her and he was afraid. She repeated his name again before she noticed his hand pressed to his side and the red blooming out from underneath it.

“You guys good back there? Going to be bumpy if you can hold onto something.”

“Where’s your medical supplies? My partner’s been shot!” Cass pressed her hands with all her strength to the wound. She grunted as they took a tight turn and they slid to the wall of the plane.

“Orange bag!” She grabbed it, the zipper slipping through her bloody fingers. Cass grabbed as much gauze as she could and the scissors, cutting Will’s shirt to get a better sense of what she was dealing with.

“I’ve got to look and see if there’s an exit wound.” She rolled him slightly as he yelled in pain. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said but there was a hint of relief to her tone as she found a matching wound in his back. She took a deep breath as she cleared the blood in search of the bullet’s entrance. Once she found it, she held the gauze to it and tried not to wince as his breathing sounded like it was growing ragged.

“Cass…” The gauze in her hands turned red, a pool of blood seeping out from underneath him. The wound wasn’t clotting and the rudimentary kit had no platelets to help.

“You’ve got to hang on. Save your strength. We’ll be back before you know it.” An hour and she was out of gauze, cutting fabric from her skirt in its place. Wil was sweating. Paler. Taking a long time to inhale after he exhaled. “Do you remember back in school when I almost quit? You stopped me on my way to the Colonel’s office and told me the OSS needed me, that Europe needed a free spirit to bring back their freedom. Now, I need you to do exactly what you told me. Pull up your boot straps, keep your head in the game and fight through it.” His hand weakly rested on top of hers.

“You…did…”

“I’m right here. We can talk about it all when we get back.” A tear rolled down his cheek and a matching one rolled down hers. “Don’t do this, Will. Please.” His hand dropped to his side and there was no longer light behind his eyes.

“Lieutenant, we’ve got wheels down in 30!”

“Tell the control tower that Captain Foster is…” Her hands were on his chest as she tried compressions. Her tears were coming quicker now. She watched them drop on his face and he didn’t react. All she could hear was her own heartbeat and the silence of Will’s as she pressed and pressed and pressed and nothing happened. She didn’t notice the plane landing. The pilot calling her name. She kept pressing and pressing and pressing.

“Cassandra.” Harding’s use of her full name pierced through the fog. It was soft and familiar and safe. “Cassandra, you have to let him go. Let the doctors look at him.” She couldn’t even imagine how she looked. His blood all over her arms and clothes. Her dress ripped from when she was trying to make bandages. Tears dried to her face and snot dripping from her nose.

“Where’s John?” she asked. That was who she wanted to see. The only person who could offer her comfort in this moment.

“He’s probably halfway to Norway by now taking a second strike at those submarine pens for you.” She choked out a laugh. No doubt John would be willing to do an extreme act of commitment such as this. “Come with me to get some water? Maybe some food?”

“That sounds good.” He offered her his arm and she gripped it like without him she would collapse, letting him escort her out of the plane. There was a group of people waiting and watching. The mechanics to make sure Cass was alive and well. The medical team. Extraneous personal who just wanted a glimpse of the covert American intelligence officers.

Harding led her to the mess hall, the orderlies freezing at the sight of her before scurrying to set the table. He pulled a chair out for her and she sat and avoided his gaze when he took the chair across from her.

“Were you successful?”

“Yes, sir,” she croaked out as the food and drink was placed in front of her. Harding waved off the second plate they brought. “I apologize I wasn’t here to give the briefing this morning. I should have been available for their questions.”

“You can’t be in two places at once, Lieutenant. You were where you were needed most.” She nibbled on a bite of eggs and chased it with a few gulps of water. “They’re going to want you to talk to a shrink.”

“I’ve talked to them before. Know how to play the game.” He reached for her hand across the table and she offered it, wanting the reminder she was here and she was okay. He looked like he was inspecting the blood dried into her knuckles and caked under her nails. “He was a friend. An old friend.” The loss would sting for awhile.

“The world is a better place for the task you two accomplished.” Cass took a shaky breath and blinked back tears.

“Then why do I feel so awful?” Harding knew the general feeling of taking a life. He had dropped bombs and shot guns and watched the havoc with a smile. But he had never looked another human in the eye and watched the life leave it. “Why do I feel like I did something wrong?”

“War is not natural. The role we play in it won’t be either.” She nodded with understanding. “You feeling up to interrogation?” They would want a look at her before she was able to change and clean the blood from her skin.

“I don’t have a choice.” She hoped it would be the first and the last time she had to relive the traumatic moments this day had brought. “Thank you, Colonel.” He indulged himself for a moment. Held her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. Looked into the eyes that he had found himself learning to love.

“You should get going,” he whispered. Before I say something I might regret.

----

“How you doing, Bubbles?” The medical wing was the first stop John had made after landing. He hadn’t been able to find Mary to ask for an update on Cass and Colonel Harding had disappeared almost as soon as the last B-17 touched down.

“Never better, sir.” His eyes were flickering to the door at the end of the wing. A private exam room. Crosby was also oddly quiet. They had seen Lieutenant Cooper be escorted back there almost an hour ago and she hadn’t emerged. They hoped nothing was wrong because they didn’t want to be in the radius of John Egan when he found out.

“That’s good. I was actually looking for you, Crosby.” John paused as both men continued to shift in their seats. “They not keep you comfortable?”

“No, sir, I mean yes, sir, I’m fine it’s just-” Bubbles stopped as the entrance opened and he recognized the secretary from Lieutenant Cooper’s office. She looked vaguely horrified to see John Egan.

“Mary! I stopped by but you weren’t there. Any word from Spook?” Bubbles, Crosby and Mary all looked at each other. “Clearly, I’m on the outside of whatever this is.” John’s finger twitched as his side. He wasn’t liking the feeling in his chest.

“Colonel Harding didn’t talk to you, sir?” He liked that even less.

“No. Mary, whatever is going on, I need to know right now.” Her gaze dropped to her feet.

“I can’t, sir. It’s need to know at this moment in time.” His chest heaved at her words.

“You can’t?” He spun back towards the airmen. “Then why do you two look like you know something?” Why wasn’t anyone telling him anything? What happened that they were keeping from him.

“Sir, we don’t really,” Crosby started.

“Someone just please fucking tell me if I need to start grieving.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easily, Major.” She is trying so hard to smile because John is who she has been wanting all day. But he turns to look at her and he looks so relieved and she hasn’t felt safe enough to show emotion since she left his arms a few days ago.

“Cass…is that…blood?” He walks towards her slowly. They had let her wash the blood from her arms and face but there was still some dried into her hairline and soaked into her dress. She nods as a sob rips from her throat. “Oh, Cass, baby.” She collapses into his chest as soon as he is near enough.

“Will’s dead,” she sobs into his neck, “I tried so hard. I wasn’t good enough.” His arms were iron around her, the only thing keeping her standing.

“I know you did everything you could.” He kissed the side of her head and stroked his hand down her hair. “I’m sorry you lost a friend today, my love.” The word felt like a slap across her face. She was so undeserving of his love after what she had done. She had taken the life of another, twice over. She could scrub at her skin but the blood would never wash away.

“Will you take me back to my room?” He slid an arm under her knees and lifted her so she was in his arms, her arms around his neck and her head resting on his shoulder. “Don’t let them take me away from you. Please.”

He noticed the stares and whispers that followed as they made their way to her billet. He didn’t put her down until they were safely behind her closed door.

“We should get you cleaned up,” he noted as she sat on her bed and looked through her wardrobe for her shower kit.

“How was Norway?” she asked quietly.

“Successful. Had to leave Biddick in Scotland but he’ll be fine.” He found the basket of her toiletries and a towel.

“Good. I’m glad you guys were able to use the information.” She smiled. “I’m sure Curt will find his way around quite well.”

“I can stand outside the door. Make sure no one bothers you.” John was offering her a few moments to shed her armor and embrace the emotions that were still heavy in her chest.

“Outside the door will be too far.” Cass stood and pressed her forehead against his lips, asking for the strength of his touch during this weak moment.

“I don’t want to be intrusive.”

“I’m asking you to take a shower with me. That’s all.” They had seen each other naked. Shared a bed. Expressed the very real feelings between them. What was one more facet of domesticity gracing their lives?

Cass undressed and stepped under the water and watched it run red down the drain until John’s chest pressed against her back. He wrapped one arm around the front of her chest and the other around her hips. She rested her own hands on top of his.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Her head turned so she could look at him.

“They sent me there to kill someone,” she whispered. John stiffens for an instant before he recovers. “I killed him and his bodyguard because he saw my face.” She hates that in the moment she had been thinking about the fact that they would remove her from the field if they thought her identity had been compromised. That she wouldn’t be able to do the job the way it was meant to be done anymore.

“It’s okay you don’t feel good about it.” Cass smiled. He was the only one so far to not try and convince her that she had done the right thing. That she had made the world a better place and shouldn’t let the specifics bother her. This was why she had sought him out in the first place. This was why she loved him.

“They’re grounding me. Desk duty until further notice.” He reached for the shampoo and lathered it between his hands. She titled her head back into his waiting hands and let his fingers work through the roots of her hair, the last of the red going down the drain, her eyes closing as he soothed the ache away.

“Bet you’re as happy about that as I was being Air Exec.”

“Touche.” Next was a bar of soap, Cass turning around and John dragging it across her skin and focusing on the few spots of dried blood she hadn’t been able to scrub off in her haste earlier. He seemed to get lost in a trance, circling her breasts a few extra times and moving it slowly down her torso before letting it slip into the wispy curls between her legs. “So much for just a shower,” she whispered as her legs spread a little further.

“I’ll stop, Cass.” He moved his hand and she grabbed his wrist and moved it right back.

“Make me forget, John.” The soap was discarded out the shower stall, his fingers dipping between her folds and relishing in her warmth. Her forehead dropped to his chest as she shuddered.

“Remember what you said to me before you left?” His fingertip circled her clit and she nodded. “Said I could show you how much I love you when I get back.”

“I did say that,” she gasped as he slipped a finger into her and the heel of his hand rubbed her bundle of nerves with every thrust. “Oh, I like that a lot.”

“I want to show you, Cass, show you properly.” She brought him in for a kiss as she felt herself getting closer and closer. “Take my time and love you the way you deserve.”

“I want that too, John, please.” Her hips rocked at the same gentle rhythm of his hand as she chased the feeling stirring low in her belly.

“I missed this sight, baby.” He had her like this once before, had only been separated from her a few days, but it had been too long. “Love having you like this.”

“John, I-” The words caught in her mouth as he hit that sweet spot with a curl of his fingers and stars danced across her vision. He held her as her knees buckled, his fingers not stopping, as she kissed him to try and keep quiet if only slightly. “Take me to bed. Take me to bed and make love to me, John Egan.”

He would be happy to oblige.

#masters of the air #john egan #callum turner #mota #masters of the air fanfiction #john egan fanfiction #callum turner fanfiction #mota fanfiction #masters of the air fanfic #john egan fanfic #mota fanfic #john egan x oc #john egan x reader #cass and bucky

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ye4gerism · 2 days

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𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑰𝑺 𝑭𝑨𝑰𝑹 𝑰𝑵 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑾𝑨𝑹 - 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍 𝐗 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

word count 1.8k

content warning light smut - in fact it’s not even that descriptive🧍🏾‍♀️

author’s note finally back after so long - i HAVE been writing though and have a story in my back pocket that im excited to drop! :3 this is the story i was looking for beta readers for - i didn’t get any 🧍🏾‍♀️ so i’m just dropping this first chapter to get interest. if not, i’ll just release a chapter at least weekly! this is also my attempt at mature content, so bear with me as we test this out. my requests are open - so feel free to read my guidelines on my pinned and hit my inbox 😝 update: part two !!

synopsis after the rumbling, you found yourself on your feet in your home town. you have a completely new life - you’re watching your country be built again and now you have a fiancé! what happens when a man from your past reaches out to you via letter?

853

His air fills your nose as you press against him. Your breaths are labored from placing your lips where you can, hands frantic.

The adrenaline lowers and you're both back to your senses. Your clothes are scattered everywhere on your bedroom floor. He lowers you onto the bed, his heavy hands resting on your lower back as you arch into the sheets. His lips love on your collarbones and find their way to your belly button. You shudder as he moves lower and lower until that wave of unfamiliar excitement washes over you.

You're breathing heavily as he places kisses all over your face and body. He takes care of you at the end; he makes sure you're clean, warm, and comfortable. You enjoyed your night; never had you thought you'd fall head over heels for a man you met just a few days ago but here you are.

You watched as he went between putting on his clothes and looking for items he was missing. Once he was fully clothed, it finally hit you that he didn't have plans to stay the night. Your body shot up from the bed. "Jean..." Your voice trails off, pleading.

He looks over his shoulder. He finishes his look by putting his fedora on. "You know I'd love to stay...but I have somewhere to be." Regret travels through Jean's voice. He turns away from you, pretending to fix his tie.

His shoulders are tense. He takes a few deep breaths before looking at you once more. "Tonight will be my last night seeing you." The satisfaction from the night immediately vanished. Your confusion is loud. Jean sighs as he continues to straighten himself out. "I can't explain it to you now but within the next few days...months, it'll all make sense..." In the soft candlelight in your bedroom, you can see the sadness in his eyes. You wanted to question him but considering the look on his face, you decide that it's probably best for you not to know.

You can't watch him. Jean opens the front door; under the door frame, he looks at your back. He opens his mouth but closes it instead. There was no point. He'd never see you again.

After his exit, you contemplated the possible explanation for his exit. It all didn't come together until weeks after the new year of 854 when Paradis launched its attack on Marley.

Spring 857

To whom it may concern,

I didn't think it'd be appropriate to address this letter with 'Dear Ms. L/N' considering our history and the events after but I still felt the need to reach out to you.

It's been four years now? Or at least approaching four years, considering our meeting was in the summer.

I owe you an explanation. I am a Subject of Ymir from Paradis Island. At the period that we met, I was on a trip with other Subjects; it was our first time off of the island. We were there, curious about our enemies and how our military forces should move forward. I met you and you know the rest of that story. Other than my constant visits with you, I and a few others sat through countless meetings hearing about how we Subjects couldn't be "cured" or "forgiven" of our crimes.

Meeting you wasn't on my agenda. No one knew about you. During that time. I felt like the world felt like it was crashing down on me and then came you, my short-lived saving grace.

Because of my actions during the Rumbling, my home, Paradis, has outcasted me and considered me a traitor for being one of the pieces that stopped it. I live life as a Peace Ambassador now. I've been all over the place - helping rebuild cities and building connections with refugees who are still working on getting their lives back. I do live in Paradis from time to time. My mother still lives there.

I learned about you from asking around. I'm so grateful that you evaded the Rumbling. I don't know how I would feel if you passed.

Longing to see you,

Jean Kirstein, Alliance Peace Ambassador

Mister Ambassador,

Hi. Thank you for reaching out to me. It's been a very long time and I've struggled. Went from being a woman who traveled regularly to being trapped because of the bombs and titans that were dropped everywhere. I am lucky that I have made it out with my life.

Now that I have a proper explanation, I don't feel as upset as I did seeing your letter in my mailbox. I am glad you are safe for the most part.

I am with someone. Set to be married within the next few months if life in Anahg, or the Southern Nations as the world calls it now, improves slightly more. My fiancé's name is Sebas Abe. Considering that you're from Paradis, I don't know how much you know, but he was an important political figure and diplomat for Hizuru. He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time during, what you call, the Rumbling. He's a part of the rebuilding process here in Anahg but he misses his diplomat job dearly. He loved traveling the world, so he told me.

I'm curious, how is life in Paradis? Considering you're a traitor?

Y/N L/N

Miss L/N,

Beautiful last name. I didn't mean to come on so hard in my first letter. Congratulations on your engagement, you deserve it. I am also sorry about everything you've been through. If you don't mind me asking, what happened on your end? If it's too invasive of a question, I certainly understand. It's just something that peaks my interest considering what I do for work.

Anahg and the rest of the Southern Regions have yet to be touched by our growing alliance. I guess the focus is to rebuild the relationship between Marley and Paradis and gain the trust of other countries that weren't destroyed by the Rumbling.

If your fiancé is still interested in ambassador work, I don't mind putting in the good word for him. I have close connections to those in Hizuru, one of Paradis's allies.

Life on the island is hard. I don't get hassled a lot in my hometown; my mother was an important part of some of our neighbors' lives. I guess they feel wrong treating me differently. But I will say that I feel lonelier. I will never share a barrack, train, or be a part of a military branch again. I'm the age where I'm supposed to be at least courting someone or going out with a small group of friends but with, one, members of the Alliance being so busy and, two, my status as a traitor makes it hard to come across people my age.

I don't leave Trost, my home, to visit other parts of the island unless I really need to. Getting on transportation for work is quicker when no one is interested in speaking to you.

Jean Kirstein, Alliance Peace Ambassador

Mister Ambassador,

Well, if you're so curious, Mr. Ambassador, it's something I'd rather not relive - That's how my experience went. Eren Yeager ruined my life. I don't blame him for being angry; if the whole world was laughing at my existence, I'd bring Hell onto Earth too. But that doesn't take away that my life was taken away. Since then, I'm fortunate enough that I was able to come back home to Anagh, that it's growing once again, and that I have someone by my side. My life isn't the best but it's better than it was days before the Rumbling.

I'm sorry that your community has turned on you that way. Loneliness is one hell of a disease. I'd rather be berated than silently deal with my own sadness. I hope that doesn't sound offensive.

Y/N L/N

Miss L/N,

No, that isn't offensive. I sometimes wish my life was as vocal as my other friends but at the same time, I'm grateful for the dirty looks. I just wish I wasn't so in my head sometimes.

What do you mean your life now is better than the one before the Rumbling? Are you insinuating something in your previous letter? The way I remember it, I sure damn well made those last few days memorable and exciting. Your body told me so itself.

I understand I left suddenly and inappropriately but that doesn't mean you get to dismiss and deny what we had.

I thought about you too many times as I traveled. When I was alone, I thought of you and your silky skin and your pretty lips. Your body against mine.

You could be ignoring my correspondence, for the sake of your dear Sebas, but we both know why you continue to write back.

Jean Kirstein

Fall 857

Mister Ambassador,

I am married now - since the summer.

Leave it in the past, Mr. Ambassador.

Hopefully, you can continue to write me as a friend and not as a lover.

Thank you,

Mrs. Y/N Abe

Dear Mrs. Abe,

Oh, forgive me for defending my honor. I can't have you on the other side of the world trashing my character. I was hurt by my initial assumption - that you haven't confirmed.

Congratulations.

Does your husband still want to work with the Alliance? How is Anahg - from the view of someone living there? There is an opening if your husband is still interested. Negotiations with Marley are taking somewhat of a positive turn. I don't think they're completely on our side but with the help of Hizuru, we'll reach common ground.

I've been courting here and there but nothing's stuck.

I don't mind being your friend, but that also may mean that I'll stop my correspondence.

Jean Kirstein, Alliance Peace Ambassador

Mister Ambassador,

What assumption do I have to confirm? Do you want me to be direct?

Thinking of you reminds me of what followed. The confusion and loss I felt. And the loneliness.

But, Mr. Ambassador Kirstein, ever since you've written me, when my husband is out doing his work and I'm alone, I find myself, regretfully, thinking about you and those nights before you left. And I hate it...and enjoy it. I hate it so much.

I am supposed to be loyal to my husband and yet here you are. What are the odds that you'd reenter my life? And you're not even physically by my side. I crave you. I'd do anything to have you in my proximity one more.

But for the sake of my image and my marriage, leave it in the past.

Mrs. Y/N Abe

Mrs. Abe,

Thank you for your honesty. It truly is a shame that your husband and my work are limitations. If things were in my control, I'd stop writing this letter and would be on my way to Anahg to satisfy you once more. I owe you a proper apology after my absence all these years.

I want to honor you and forget everything happened but it seems impossible now. Can you really go back to your normal life, being Mr. Sebas Abe's wife, after what you've just confessed to me?

Please, call me Jean.

Jean Kirstein, Peace Ambassador

#black reader #black yn #aot x black reader #aot x reader #jean kirstein x reader #jean x black!reader #jean x reader #jean kirschstein x black reader #jean kirstein x black reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtien #jean kirstein #x black reader

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dipplinduo · 18 hours

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Fun fact about me: April 18th is my birthday! :)

And part of what I wanted to do to celebrate this year was to give back. Introducing * ~ a dipplinshipping birthday oneshot ~ * :

Rating: T

Summary:

Today was Kieran's birthday, but it was the last thing that mattered to him. In fact, he vowed it would never matter to him again. Instead, he would focus on things that would keep him strong: his battling, his strategizing, and his crown as the Blueberry Champion. His sister and the Elite Four won't stop asking him random questions, though, and if anyone brings up Juliana any more than they already have since she arrived as an exchange student, he's seriously going to lose it. But...why can't he stop thinking about her? And why is everyone acting so suspicious?!

A bittersweet birthday celebration fic for anyone who's had complicated feelings about their birthday. <3

Take this as a thank you to all of those who have followed my work and/or my Tumblr blog. I wouldn't have imagined having the support of this wonderful community on my last birthday, and I can't even begin to describe how encouraged and inspired I have felt to write since finding you guys. I have never written this much for this long, consistently, and your constant feedback and comments seriously brighten my day more than Juliana brightens up Kieran, LOL. Hope you enjoy this! <333

(And yeah, this fic is the "event based idea" that this poll was about. I thought it was so funny that some of you thought it was gonna be some devastating angst LMAOOOO. That's for after TTPD releases, tysm for the bday gift Taylor.)

#I legit was gonna go a bit of a wholesome route for S&S D but y'all said “nah” so I said “bet” and wrote Chapter 18™ instead #anyways #on a real note #seriously tysm for all the love & kind words & support #I hope this brings you some of the happiness you all constantly bring me #<3333 #my fics #dipplinshipping #kieran pokemon #kieran x juliana pokemon #juliana x kieran pokemon #kieran x juliana #juliana pokemon #juliana x kieran #I had fun with some references see if you can spot 'em all #now Im gonna run to bed #I have a busy day ahead of meeee #bye for now!! <3 #also yes I did lowkey contemplate teal mask Kieran instead #but my bias is allowed for today LMAO #what can I say #indigo disk Kieran is just elite #plus its fun to have the rest of the blueberry squad there #oKAY NOW IM SIGNING OFF BYEEEE #wouldnt be a dipplinduo post without me going back to edit tags #catch me editing typos later too lmfao #yes TTPD release technically falls on my bday in the time zone im currently in #will never ever shut up about that

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t8oo · 2 days

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By all accounts the lupin fandom has always prided itself as a drama free ship war free open to polyamory and wildly different headcanons fandom. And I can name a few people that have worked hard to keep this place very friendly. And I really started in this fandom in a friendly place. I even managed to make friends that Liked Luzeni maybe even just as much as me. I was ecstasic. I really loved those people so much, I talked to them daily. Some of them I respected so much for their craft. Great.

Id always been upfront and very clear that they were befriending someone who was fucked in the head. And i dont mean seasonal depression type I mean Bipolar and Bpd and all the symptoms it entails. Im not even going to mention the upbringing and the life ive had. All of it was a complete and violently abusive catastrophy.

Last year I exhibited symptoms that were intense. TOXIC. It didnt mean that I was toxic to my friend, because I was rational enough to know about boundaries. I was at the end of my rope. For undisclosed reasons I had to be interned. Great. During the ultimate time that lead me to become crazy, not a single person i thought was my friend gave me a hand. I received a message from one friend while I was litteraly perched on the windowsill about to jump telling me about their life. Not asking abt me. I sent some Hey thats cool but im about to kill myself and they didnt reply. Days after I was interned they told me that my message triggered them so they had to have an emergency meeting with their psychiatrist. Cool. Nothing abt me still. Sorry ? Fallout 1

During yhat whole shitstorm and despite everything a friend became my like. favorite person in bpd terms. Just really fucking embarassing shit really. I tried to prevent it, i tried to pull out not to make it worse, which not only was making it worse but was making it toxic. I aparently blew out, which of course my memory conveniently forgot. I said something ahout their partner. They never explained what. Again, after internment I apologized. They told me they needed time. They bsolutely deserved it. I was probably horrible to warrant that reaction. I might even have been toxic. Again, I do not remember what I even said. Im not a demonic entity it couldnt have been like I desacrated them and insulted them beyond repair. Even in my anger I have always been limited. But all i can do is speculate. They never explained, just took my apology. And then They never came back. That friend I liked so much that despite everything I did to control myself became a person i liked beyond wat was normal. We have had so much fun. Not enough to mend bridges or explained anything. Fallout 2

During that blow out one friend meddled, asking that other friend for information ? I asked to pass along a message to friend B. which friend A refused. Like it was not their business, even tho they were clearly invested in the business enough to talk to both of us about it lol. No problem. 4 days ago thou i confronted a group of friends that were friends As friend, for kicking them out of an rp group for no reason, even bordering on racism. My friend feels hurt about that event, has always hinted at it. it even stopped them from rping, something they did for 12 years. They had no closure and so I tried to bring it to them. Asshole move or empathic ? Thinking back i may have been taking the situation personnaly because i was already on my way out menrally. I dont know. All i know is that four days later, after i talked for hours to that group and the reason why they treated my friend so poorly that they still had scars over it, i was experiencing a mental crisis and that friend refused a request. Great. Fallout 3

The last friend litteraly stood by and said nothing. Not before the fallout and not after. I dont even know'if that counts as a fallout. This girl was so cute, so fun, so talented, so FUNNY. And when it came to a heed she said nothing. No side taking. Neutrality. Okay

At this point I no longer had anyone to talk to I think. I was documenting my attempt and the horrible conditions of the psych ward on twitter for everyone of my "friends" to see. One i particularly loved so much because they genuinely were on the same level of insanity related to luzeni made a tweet about the late hystix, a person i did not know but a lot of the lupin fandom did. A beautiful soul that was always supportive and kind. Everyone was mourning her. It was truly heartbreaking. I hope she is in peace. Our attempts matched in timing, it was actually mindblowing. Mine just fucking failed because of nosy neighbors. I feel so close to her in spirit still. That we both struggled so much that we came to the conclusion that nothing could save us. She did not have the nosy neighbors. That friend mourned her publicly.. on twitter. Ok. Logical, its a depressing, horrible and sad situation all around. All we can do is mourn. Still, it was a friend I was genuinely close to. That never showed the empathy they did to me. Hey dude so im kind of facing the exact same issues but you never reached out ? While my torment was there and documented on twitter because again. I did not fucking know wat was going on. I was in a strict mental ward under a lot of dosage from nurses who refused to give me insulin even thou i was type 1. Friend said that they tweeted at me. No mention of the years and years of discussions we had on discord and me checking up on them everytime they pulled out for severe family matters and i was genuinely concerned. Nope they aparently tweeted something at me. Okay. Thank you for the concern. Your investment really shows. Fallout 4

after that I stopped friends all together. The fact that friends I was talking nigh on everyday to each revealed their lack of concern for me during an extreme mental health crisis was abyssmal to say the least.

Fallout 5 came with Sheen. I was managing a charity zine for Palestine, and the lack of investment from so many artists brought me to the edge. I took it out on Sheen in the softest way possible. I told them I was disapointed in their piece and that it looked low effory. Sheen, a person I had knwon for the entirety of my investment in the lupin fandom, decided that an offense was enough to block me and never speak again. Once again i was on the verge of yet another blow out. And it happened. Lol. Its just so funny in retrospect that everytime I start acting weird alluding to a breakdown people shun me out despite, you know. me being clear abt my medical record. I realized that I was rude to Sheen and it was uncalled for. Apologized publicly not in the attempt that Sheen sees it but just so that everyone knows that if they hear abt the story, at least they know its all been my fault. Online friendships are so cool because it just takes the block button to burn bridges without coming back. With no chance of mending or at least a genuine apology. so Fallout 5

Is there a reason that all of these issues happened within one fandom ? I do think so. Unless i am incredibly unlucky. Or an abusive piece of shit unbeknownst to me. I think that the lupin fandom is surface level niceties. If they dont like you you will know. It will be passive but you will be muted and eventually just ostracized. You will not be invited in fandom events, or group discussions. It did not help that my mental health was constantly deteriorating and I started developping a persecution complex, thinking that people were making secret discords where they were telling others to avoid me or something. Ive endured all of this for one thing. One Humiliating thing : i love luzeni. I love it so much I want a tatto of it. I love it so much that after years before sleep I pick a random fic and then imagine their discussions. I love their dynamic so much. I love their romance I love how fucking inhinged they are i love that they hurt and love each other the same, i love that they cant live without the other, that they genuinely complete each other in a really ugly but complete patchwork of mental illness and really elaborate kinks.

I gave up thou. Another depression, I blew out, attempted again with the window, got caught and sent to the hospital. It pulled me back from the fandom. I realized i was allocating so much of my thoughts to it and how I could be better perceived, how I could make friends again to talk about the fictional thing i loved the most in the world. And I realized that in giving up and keeping to myself, that I could be more stable. That the damage was done and I cant really enjoy this fandom anymore, but Im still attached to the hip to luzeni and so in the words of a really brilliant man... Nah... Ill do my own thing.

U might be wondering why the hell is this bitch airing their laundry publicly. Its therapeutic. You dont have to read or care. If those friends see it, and make a comment of their own about how the events did NOT happen like I told, I would love to hear how they perceived it. I do not give my friendship freely and easily and these people have done profound damage to my abilty to trust. And most of all, I never had any closure. I kept rethinking, blaming them, then myself, then miscommunication, then them and then myself again. To this day I dont know why all of this happend. Did I act like an unfathomable monster, or did my friend simply not give a shit enough to help me through this. I dont fucking know and I cant deny either options. Maybe I am talking through a completely selfish wrapped sens of perception that is not to be trusted. I wouldnt be surprised. I have a very hard time relying on my own brain lately. My health is deteriorating very fast, and shit is getting worse.

The second reason is that I am going to be interned for psychiatric issues for the next 3 months. For the first time in my life I think Ill finally get all the professional support i need, available and close. Im not going to be investing any time in the fandom, if simply talking to the psychiatrist abt this catastrophic strings of fallouts. I might be posting some luzenis, but frankly i doubt it. I only make fanart when I am happy, or sad enough but still capable. Im neither right now. You are not entitled to any of these informations, but I just wanted to write them out of my mind because I have a LOT of baggage to go on through and this is an extra bag I dont need so im throwing it out.

You cannot gauge an entire fandom from your perspective, the same way you cannot gauge an entire userbase. No, tiktokers are not the worst people in humanity. Neither are reddit users. Being on tumblr is cool, but it doesnt make u better than being on twitter. And so this is only my opinion of the lupin fandom. I met some amazing persons that i wish the best for, for ever and ever, but in all the niceties and welcoming you might see, I dont think that extends to a person with mental illnesses that are villified, or out of their control. I can fairly say that my experience was disapointing, and I dont intend to rekindle anything. Ill just be on the fringe maintaining the spirit of luzeni alive because fuck you monkey punch these are my characters now by law.

If you read until this bro get a life. Also im joking, youv given me more consideration than most people i met have. If your take after this is that I am deranged, then youv read right.

Thank you for reading. This blog has always been a pleasure to post on, even my most cringe and embarassing shippy stuff. Ive been met with nothint but support, and I truly enjoy being here because of you. I hope this isnt a 3+ month long goodbye. I hope I draw my lovers again. But I cant guarantee anything. I wish you all health most of all, and love and compassion.

#evacuating emotional baggage through a long rant that you dont have to read #this post is for me and me alone really. i feel better after writing it. thou rverything is still catastrophic #there will be grace

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