#starkly mine

[starklyscifi]

We Walk With Ghosts

A flash fiction story by EJ Stark, written for @flashfictionfridayofficial’s prompt “torn veil”

Her pursuit of the perfect fall photo lured her deep into the woods. One more tree. One more photo because look at how beautiful it was. Her frantic attempts to capture the fall colors drew her into the part of the foreset she had never been in. She wasn’t scared. These woods were sandwiched between the mall and a bunch of houses. It was quicker to cut through the woods than walk all the way around into the neighborhood, which resulted in a well worn dirt path through the trees. 

She always wondered why the city didn’t just put in a walking path. But such thoughts were far from her mind now. The pictures continued to show lush summer forests with just a hint of yellow, green overwhelming everything like a virus. 

Sam threw her phone. She didn’t understand how the brilliant yellow in front of her could show up like that in a photo. But it wasn’t entirely yellow. She could see that now. It was still summer foliage compared to the tree behind it. That bright red maple she had stupidly missed. 

Retrieving her phone and wiping the mud from the lens, she ventured deeper into the forest. The trees grew older as she walked. 

A sickly sweet smell permeated the air.

She did not know how long she had been chasing the next bright tree. But her phone would not take anymore photos, telling her the camera roll was full. Frustrated, she deleted a broad swath of photos. 

She didn’t care what time it was, intent only on reach that patch of delicate red orange color she glimpsed in front of her. The smell grew stronger. 

It was a clearing with a single apple tree, in full fall bloom.  

The ground was covered in apples. They sank beneath her feet, coated her white tennis shoes in their soft flesh. Her eyes watered with the sweetness. 

And there stood a man, with sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, dressed all in black. 

His neck creaked like the old stairs in a haunted house as he turned his head. His eyes were gone, two black holes staring out of his skull at her. 

Sam ran. 

She fell twice. Mud splattered her t-shirt. Bursting through the tree line, she was overwhelmed by the roar of cars splashing through wet roads.

. . .

“You’re soaked,” Mandy helpfully pointed out as Sam stumbled in the door. 

Sam peeled her coat off, tried to force the soaked tennis shoes off her feet. 

“Come on, we’re going to be late.” 

She looked up to see Mandy holding out a pile of clothes. Sam took the clothes and fifteen minutes later found herself dressed as a witch, complete with dollar store hat and Mandy telling her to keep her eyes closed while she finished the “wicked cat eye” she was doing. 

“Jesus, Mandy, are you trying to make her look like a cartoon character?” 

Leah was a nurse who had complained about nothing else since she got her schedule telling her she was working Halloween night. She was already in her scrubs, leaning against the door to Mandy’s room. 

“We all know you’re just bitter.” Mandy swept her makeup brushes into a dresser drawer and shoved Sam towards the door. 

“You girls be careful,” Leah said with a wink, “The veil is thin tonight after all.” 

. . .

They were hitting up the city’s carnival in the park before heading to the bars, where Leah made them promise to still be when she got off. A fog had sprung up. Sam didn’t have to ask Mandy to take the long way around the woods. The carnival was packed by the time they arrived, child screaming in delight and music drifting off the carousel. 

“I didn’t expect this to be so popular,” Sam said, smiling back at a cute guy dressed up in a poor Beatles costume.

“It’s not that busy,” Mandy said with a shrug. 

Sam glanced back at Ringo, but the sidewalk was empty. Something like fire light flickered across it, but she didn’t see any torches. 

“The 70s are really making a comeback,” Sam said, after seeing bell bottoms for the seventh time. A guy in a trippy shirt gave her a look as she and Mandy brushed past him, on the hunt for cotton candy. 

“What?” Mandy was scanning the horizon, in search of sugar. 

“The costumes aren’t even inspired, I mean, they just look like normal people.” 

“What are you on about?” Mandy said. 

Sam pointed at a girl dressed in a long old-fashioned dress, complete with heavy milk bucket. 

Mandy rolled her eyes, taking off in the direction of the spotted sugar rush. The girls walked around the park making fun of the costumes appearing and disappearing in fog while they ate the sticky cotton candy. Children screamed on a min-rollercoaster. 

“If you’re going to try for the 1920s, at least put in some effort,” Sam said.

“What is with you tonight?” Mandy giggled. 

“I’m just saying, at least go full flapper. Who picks an everyday outfit from a hundred years ago as a Halloween costume?” 

Mandy giggled again. She did that when she got nervous. 

“What is up with you?” Sam asked, finishing a cup of hot cider spiked with rum and throwing the tiny paper cup in the trash. It bounced out and onto the ground. 

“Did you get into Leah’s weed?” Mandy mouthed the word “weed”. She had been shocked when Leah, the ostensibly responsible nurse, had wiped out her trusty Altoids tin a week into all of them living together. 

“Do I seem high to you?” 

“You’re seeing people who aren’t there. So yeah, maybe.”  

Cold sweat dripped down Sam’s back. She looked again for the people with the bad costumes. They were gone. Normal families shuffled around the carnival. 

He was back. Standing in the center of the crowd. Looking right at her with his non-eyes. 

Without taking a step he was right in front of her. Nose to nose. Behind him, the sky was filled with flying things from her nightmares. 

“Do you see?” 

She met Death under an apple tree and now eternity was laid out on a soccer field. 

#horror #flash fiction #starkly mine #writing #flash fiction friday #writing community #writers on tumblr

[eosofspades]

oh my god i figured out what's bothering me about zhen its that she has the elsa face

apologies for the bad quality i got these from a youtube video but like literally why is she so PLAIN. would it have killed them to give her some narrower eyes?? some starker color separation?? ANY markings at all?????

#i want to talk to whoever made the decision to remove every sliver of visual interest from this design #every character in the original cast was so wonderfully designed ESPECIALLY the five #look at tigress or tai lung's faces look at the plentiful outlined details and the starkly defined color areas #zhen is so plain so soft it is hurting my heart #mine #kung fu panda #kung fu panda 4 #kfp #kfp 4

[mafuteru]

was given the title of most twisted guy of 2023 and apparently my worst trait is my apathy. most respectable aspect is my ambition.. irls rly making it seem like im out for world domination. im just a little kitty cat.. or a mouse perhaps..

#this was from when me and friends were drunk and talking about this and that #always love to hear peer reviews #twisted.. such a specific adjective #apathy as in i have a few specific things i love / cherish and then dont care about anything else #i personally replied that my worst trait is my pride / ego.. bc im so prideful that i dont care about my bad traits #like that apathy of mine #i feel like people are always imposing an image onto me.. #and those images are always starkly different from each other #makes me feel muddled #shion.txt

[nursc-a2]

_________  ⋆˚ ★ INCOMING HOLO / ENDLESS EDITS OF NURSC ( DON’T REBLOG IF YOU AREN’T A MUTUAL )

the christine vibes of this scene!    her smile, her expression in the first gif, the way she cups his chin and then points at him??    the softness and teasing??    i absolutely adore this movie

#☾ my edits. _________ ⋆˚ *･༓ just the person for the job. #☾ appearance. _________ ⋆˚ *･༓ more starkly attractive than beautiful. #when i say i adore this movie #i mean i love seeing jane in it #i've never actually watched it #but god im' just *heart eyes* at her today #she is so stunning #☾ tripletucker. __ ⋆˚ *･༓ ⟨ ANY MAN OF MINE ⟩ heartbeatin' fine treatin' breathtakin' earthquakin' kind.

[mx-paint]

.

#another thing i think about that one live action #theres a part in the book that is frequently mistranslated bc of the way that it is on the website its from #(it has / seperating each character #and since the author is trying to say 'it seems they are starkly naked' #and stark has the character for red in it. ya) #(they also werent naked. it just appeared like that from the moutain they were on) #the thing about it is that these characters chase two of the mc #and one says that their brother told them they were cannibals #(though considering who their brother is its implied that he just said that so they wouldnt go up the mountain) #and its also the fact the ghosts chasing them were people that basically had really bad luck #and bet all that they had at the li gambler den #so i think that they were just protecting the mountain by chasing everything off for the li #(some of the ghosts Do it eat people in this book. these are just never ones that do) #like. its going to be a while before the live action or animation releases for different reasons #and the only think that might do the scene is the comic. #which is by an artist that frequently draws the 'evil' characters with darker skin #.... despite the actual protagonist being darker and them being described as very pale #i think my mine point is #the authors work has a similar theme of 'ypu judge me for something i cant control or didnt do #then are surprised when i dont want to help you' #like i talked ab the people that are most likely set in xinjiang before #its just. this is the part of the book that people talk about for these instances #when like. i dont see them portrayed as what theyre saying #and half of the time its either a mistranslation or just flatout something that isnt there that theyre talking about

[glittercleric]

I filter the term everywhere, so I was completely unaware it's Father's Day. No wonder I was getting so down about my family last night.

#layne.txt #father's day cw #I always get weird around days that celebrate family because it so starkly reminds me of what I don't have #It's not jealousy it's actual grief #I texted my dad happy father's day and that I love him #and all I got back was a curt 'thanks'. no indication of the affection that he shows my brothers #he made a post celebrating my brother finding an apprenticeship. he didn't even congratulate me on mine #to him I'll always just be a psycho and a failure no matter what I do #I could win the Nobel prize and he'd still refuse to acknowledge it #it's soul-crushing #I really want to stop chasing my family's approval but it's so hard #and that's exactly why I need to cut ties to them #I can't keep seeing them be proud of my siblings while dismissing all of my achievements #don't get me wrong im proud of my siblings too but this is just a constant reminder that I'll forever fall short in my parents eyes

[pinchofhoney]

broken promises, part two

« part one | part two | part three »

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 3.6k

warning: angst, feeling of being betrayed, heartbreak

summary: In Snow's world, only one thing mattered more than his family's reputation—you. But that was before he met Lucy Gray.

a/n: it's for those few people who have read part one, thank you<33 i hope more people will crawl here like doctor gaul snakes after the film's premiere, so i'd like to ask: do you want a third part in which our lovely reader meets snow again after his return to the capitol? 🐍

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @metalarmsandmanbuns

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

Welcome to the Capitol.

The resonance of those four simple words echoed through your thoughts as you sat in the grand living room of your family's penthouse. The room was bathed in soft, golden light, a stark contrast to the surreal scenes that played out on the broadcast, straight from the Capitol's zoo.

After Coriolanus had greeted Lucy Gray on the platform, exchanging a few words with the young tribute, he turned to you, his eyes filled with determination as the girl was now walking away, heading toward a boy from her district.

“I should go with her,” he said with a sense of urgency in his voice as he glanced back at the girl in the rainbow dress.

“What do you mean?” your brows knitted in confusion, asking a question which redirected his gaze to you.

“I should escort her to her accommodation, I must show her that I am trustworthy,” he explained in haste and without waiting for your response, he stepped to the side and reached out to get the attention of one of the Peacekeepers by lightly touching the man's arm.

“Excuse me,” Coriolanus began. “I’m Coriolanus Snow from the Academy.” He nodded toward Lucy Gray. “This tribute has been assigned to me for the Hunger Games. I wonder if I might accompany her to her quarters.”

The Peacekeeper's gaze flitted over Coriolanus' shoulder, briefly meeting yours before responding, “That’s why you've been hanging around here all morning? To catch a ride to the show?” He granted permission for Coriolanus to join the tributes, adding, “Just you,” as he directed his attention to the transport truck destined for the tributes.

Your gaze followed the Peacekeeper's, and as you glimpsed the vehicle awaiting the tributes, your mouth fell open in surprise. Stepping closer to Coriolanus, you took his hand.

“You're not going to get in there, are you, Coryo?” your concern shifted from the truck to Coriolanus, your brows furrowing as you made a plea through your eyes. The transport before you resembled a wheeled animal cage, starkly underscoring the Capitol's dehumanization of the tributes.

“I can't leave her alone,” Coriolanus stated, briefly glancing your way before gently pulling his hand away and moving toward the vehicle.

“Yes, you can,” you protested, following closely behind him as the first tributes began to enter the cage.

“Everything will be fine, Y/N,” Coriolanus reassured you, pausing near the truck. He looked down at you and spoke calmly, trying to ease the visible anxiety on your face. He brushed tenderly a strand of hair behind your ear and held your gaze. “Go home and don't worry, I'll come visit you later, okay?”

“You don't have to do this, Coryo…”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, turning to face the vehicle. He made eye contact with Lucy Gray and not even a moment had passed when he was already climbing onto the truck.

You wanted to say more, to stop him from taking this step, but you understood it was too late. Coriolanus had already made up his mind, and he wasn't one to back down. You anxiously bit your lip, a silent witness as the truck's door slammed shut. A few moments later, the engine roared to life, taking Coriolanus away from you.

Anxiety weighed heavily on your heart as you stood there like a helpless spectator. As the vehicle departed, it stirred up dust, leaving you in loneliness on the platform. You played distracted with the strands of hair Coriolanus had so gently tucked behind your ear. The fading truck held your gaze captive, making it nearly impossible to look away.

Though it felt like an eternity, only a few seconds had passed since Coriolanus had left your side. You took a deep breath, finally releasing your hair from your anxious fingers. With fresh determination, you made your way toward the train station's exit, whispering reassuring words to yourself. You held on to the belief that everything would be all right and that Coriolanus would soon return, just as he had promised, to stand at your doorstep.

Now you were fixated on the television screen, preoccupied in the spectacle playing out in the Capitol's monkey house. Your eyes were following Lucy Gray closely while keeping an eye out for Coriolanus in the background. Your family, including your parents and sister, sat alongside you, intrigued by the broadcast as much as you were.

“What's he doing there?” your father asked, a furrow of confusion creasing his brow. Both your parents held a deep affection for young Snow, but your father had a particular respect for him. He remembered Coriolanus's father, a general during the First Rebellion, and believed him to be a positive influence on you.

“Seems like he's doing his best,” you replied, though your words carried a hint of uncertainty. You were well aware of Coriolanus's determination to shine in his role, to demonstrate to the entire Capitol that the Snow name always remained at the top. And you supported him wholeheartedly, but there was a distinct difference between assuring him of his abilities in the quiet moments and witnessing it all unfold.

After a moment, the metal door of the monkey house slid open, and Coriolanus's voice reached your ears. “Thank you for being with us today. Remember, this is Lucy Gray Baird from the Twelfth District. Drop by the zoo in your free time to say hello. I promise it's worth to meet her.”

Your lip was nervously bitten as you observed Coriolanus planting a tender kiss on Lucy Gray's hand, which she extended for a good bye. When his lips touched her skin, you experienced an unfamiliar sensation. You couldn't quite name the emotion or pinpoint its origin, but it left you feeling uneasy. You couldn't make sense of the emotion's complexity, but you knew you didn't like what you saw, which felt irrational.

As Coriolanus disappeared behind the closing metal door, you reached for the TV remote and switched off the device with a single click. You sank back into the sofa cushions, a heavy sigh escaping your lips, your thoughts in chaos.

Days after Coriolanus's first meeting with Lucy Gray, you couldn't escape the creeping sense of distance that was growing between you and the man who had once been your closest companion. It was as if a heavy cloud of isolation hung over you, casting a shadow on the bond you had cherished for so many years.

His devotion to the Games and his newly formed relationship with Lucy Gray was undeniable, and it began to overshadow the connection you had nurtured for what felt like a lifetime. It was disheartening to witness each passing day pull him further into the role of mentor, to see him dedicating hours upon hours to planning strategies, discussing tactics, and offering unwavering emotional support to Lucy Gray.

You yearned to remain supportive, to be the pillar that he had leaned on for so long, but an unsettling feeling gnawed at you, a feeling of slowly but surely being relegated to the outskirts of his life, as if your importance was diminishing.

Your thoughts on Coriolanus and his rapidly growing relationship with Lucy Gray were a storm of conflicting emotions. On one hand, you couldn't help but respect his unwavering dedication to his role as a mentor, his sincere desire to succeed, and his wholehearted commitment to the Games. Yet, on the other hand, a bitter mixture of jealousy and hate welled up within you. Your place in his life was steadily being eclipsed by someone new, someone unique and gifted. While you had never personally known Coriolanus's mother, you had heard numerous stories that depicted her as a paragon of gentleness and a lover of music—traits you found mirrored in Lucy Gray. It was no wonder that Coriolanus held her in such high regard.

This acknowledgment was a bitter pill to swallow, leaving a lingering taste of sorrow. It simply made you wondering where you now stood in Coriolanus's heart.

But the turning point came just few days after the tributes' arrival in the Capitol when the mentors and their pupils were granted access to the Arena. It was a rare opportunity for the tributes to gain insight into the brutal challenge that awaited them, and Coriolanus was determined to provide Lucy Gray the guidance she so desperately needed.

However, as the mentors and tributes wander into the Arena, a sudden wave of chaos shattered the peace. Two deafening explosions rocked the surroundings, plunging everyone into a maelstrom of fear and pandemonium. Coriolanus was one of the few injured, and he was hurriedly transported to the hospital, where his medical condition was taken care of by Capitol’s nurses.

The following day, he gradually woke up from unconsciousness. You had spend a sleepless night, filled with relentless worry, and now, as you sat by his bedside, a mix of emotions swirled within you. Relief flowed over you like a gentle balm, yet it couldn't wholly assuage the profound concern that continued to clutch at your heart.

When you heard what happened in the Arena, you had immediately asked your father to drive you to the hospital. You were consumed by nervousness for Coriolanus, and the misery he endured within the Arena's walls filled you with a sickening dread. The mere thought of it sent unpleasant shivers down your spine.

As his eyes slowly blinked open, meeting yours, a soft and heartfelt smile graced your lips. “You're awake,” you murmured softly, your voice a blend of relief and worry. “How are you feeling? What happened?” The concern in your eyes was undeniable, reflecting the depth of your worry for his well-being.

“Y/N?” Coriolanus croaked in a hoarse voice. He cleared his throat quickly and sought out the hand that belonged to you, gently squeezing it. “Hi,” he said with a forced smile.

The touch of his hand in yours was a silent promise of connection and comfort. You could see the remnants of fatigue and distress in his eyes, but the smile he summoned, even if forced, warmed your heart.

You couldn't help but lean in closer, your voice gentle and filled with compassion. “I was so worried about you,” you confessed, your concern unmistakable in your tone. “What happened in the Arena? Are you in pain?”

Coriolanus's grip on your hand tightened slightly, and he began to recount the harrowing events. He painted a vivid picture of the chaos, the disarray, and the sheer panic that had gripped them when the bombs exploded. His narrative was disturbing, and as he spoke, the weight of the trauma he had endured seemed to settle upon both of you.

After sharing his part of the story, Coriolanus momentarily fell silent, allowing the unspoken question to linger in the air. It was as if he awaited your inquiry about Lucy Gray, the unspoken thread that connected him to the tribute under his wing. But before you could voice your concern, he gently cleared his throat and, in a voice still laced with the remnants of his hoarseness, asked, “How is Lucy Gray? Is she okay?”

“I-I don’t know,” you answered honestly, your brow gently furrowing with concern. The truth was, Lucy Gray hadn't occupied your thoughts even once. In fact, you hadn't even considered your friends that were taking the place of the mentors, let alone the tributes arriving from the districts. Instead, it was all Coriolanus who had consumed your mind, leaving little room for anyone or anything else.

In response to your uncertainty, Coriolanus offered assurance, though it felt like he was speaking more to himself than to you. “She's strong,” he affirmed, the words laden with the weight of his concern for Lucy Gray. “She saved my life,” he added, and the profound gratitude in his voice was palpable, underscoring the remarkable bond that had formed between the two of them.

In the following days, you made every effort to stay close to Coriolanus whenever you could. The recent events in the Arena had deeply affected both of you, and the mere thought of something similar occurring in the Capitol filled you with dread. You genuinely believed, albeit mistakenly, that your presence could act as a protective shield, guarantee his safety.

Your intentions were sincere and born out of concern, but with each passing day, it became increasingly evident that Coriolanus was becoming increasingly annoyed by your constant presence. While at first he may have appreciated your support, the demands of his mentorship duties and the complexities of preparing Lucy Gray for her role in the 10th Hunger Games began to make your company more of a obstacle than a help.

Tensions, which had once been nonexistent, began to mount, and the nature of your relationship with Coriolanus was going through a sudden changes. You found yourself facing the reality that your kindhearted attempts to shield him were, in fact, pushing him further away when your intention had been quite the opposite, to draw closer.

On your special day, your birthday, you had looked forward to finally spending some quality time with Coriolanus. It was a day where you had hoped to enjoy each other's company, seeking a break from his intense mentorship and the relentless demands of the Capitol.

However, as the hours progressed, it became clear that something had shifted between you and Coriolanus. The atmosphere grew heavy with tension, and the warmth that had once defined your relationship seemed to have suddenly faded away.

In a moment of frustration, Coriolanus addressed you with an unusual severity, his words slicing through the silence like shards of ice. “Y/N,” he began, “I can't focus on my tasks with you always around. Your presence is causing disruption and complicating my already challenging responsibilities.”

His words hit you like a heavy blow, causing a deep confusion. It was the first time he had spoken to you with such detachment and coldness, and the realisation that you had become a burden rather than a source of comfort weighed heavily on you.

Puzzled by this sudden change in his behavior, you furrowed your brow and sought clarity. “Hm?” you responded, your voice reflecting your growing uncertainty.

Coriolanus's gaze remained unyielding, his demeanor stern and distant. This was a stark contrast to the Coriolanus you had known, the one who had always been warm and caring.

In an attempt to understand the extent of this transformation, you pressed further. "I don't understand," you began, your voice trembling slightly, “It's my birthday, and I had hoped we could spend some time together.”

The weight of his disapproval and your own sense of isolation bore down on you, as if you stood on the edge of a vast divide that separated you from the Coriolanus you had once known.

After a prolonged silence, Coriolanus finally spoke, his words carrying a chilly detachment that cut deep. “I have responsibilities to fulfill. You must understand that my focus needs to be on my duties as a mentor. Your presence is truly annoying, and I can't afford being distracted.”

Another pause followed before he continued, his gaze unwavering. “You need to grasp that the world doesn't revolve around you, Y/N. You are not the most important person here. You celebrate your birthday every year, but I only have one chance to win a scholarship, and I must seize it.”

The weight of his words pressed upon you, and you couldn't help but asked next question. “Coryo,” you said, your voice wavering with confusion and a deep hurt, “Is being a mentor more important to you than me?”

He met your gaze with an unflinching intensity and replied without hesitation, “Yes.”

The blunt simplicity of his answer cut deeply, leaving you stunned and grappling with a hurricane of emotions. It was as if the ground beneath your feet had shifted, and you were standing on unfamiliar terrain. You had believed that your connection was unbreakable, that your presence in each other's lives was irreplaceable. Now, the stark reality was that his ambitions and duties had eclipsed your place in his heart.

The words echoed in your mind, and you struggled to make sense of what had just come to light. The pain welled up within you, but you didn't cry just yet. Instead, you were left feeling disoriented and wounded, your heart heavy with a sense of loss.

“You need to understand that my future, my education, and my family's reputation all ride on this scholarship. It's an opportunity I can't afford to miss. It doesn't mean I don't care about you, but right now, my focus has to be on the Games and my duties as a mentor,” Coriolanus explained, his tone softer now as he realized the harshness of his previous words, words that you certainly didn't deserve.

You bit your lip, looking down at your shoes and fidgeting with your hands. “I miss you, Coryo,” you admitted, your eyes still avoiding his. “I miss the old you. I can't remember the last time you asked how I was doing, or held my hand. I'm the one worrying about you all the time, and it feels like you're treating me like... like someone you can just hire,” you finally lifted your gaze to meet his, searching for any sign of remorse for the pain he had caused.

But he remained silent, his lips tightly pressed into a thin line.

“I just feel like Lucy Gray has become more important to you than I am,” you continued, your disbelief clear in your voice.

“It's not like that…” he sighed finally.

“And what is it like?”

“Lucy Gray is... she's special, of course she is. She's the only path leading me to victory.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “If she's just a pawn in your game, then why do you look at her like you're falling in love with her more and more every day?”

The question hung in the air, the weight of it pressing down on both of you. Coriolanus's gaze wavered for a moment, as if caught off guard by the directness of your words. It was a question he hadn't fully considered, and the emotional complexity of his feelings was now inescapable.

“I can't explain it, Y/N,” he finally admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration. “Lucy Gray is... she's unlike anyone I've ever met. She's captivating in a way I can't fully grasp.”

Your heart felt like it had been ripped from your chest, and you staggered back, away from him, unable to bear the weight of his words.

“So what are you saying now?” you asked, your voice quivering, as though hoping he could provide some clarity.

Coriolanus hesitated, his frustration giving way to a deep conflict within him. He ran a trembling hand through his almost white hair, a sign of the inner chaos that now consumed him.

“I'm saying that things have changed,” he said, his voice trailing off. “I can't deny that Lucy Gray has become a significant part of my life, and it's... complicated.”

The distance between you and Coriolanus had grown into an overwhelming chasm. You took another step back, increasing the physical space between you, though you knew it couldn't stitch the emotional void that now divided you.

“What does that mean for us, Coryo?” you asked, your voice quivering and your heart heavy with sadness and uncertainty. “Are we... Are we over?”

Coriolanus didn't respond immediately, his gaze distant as he searched for an answer in the distance. When his eyes finally met yours again, they held the pain of a man caught between two worlds.

“I don't want to say that, Y/N,” he replied, his voice full of anguish. “But right now, I need to focus on the Games. We can't pretend that things are the same as they were.”

As Coriolanus's words fell heavily between you, the room seemed to close in, and the storm of emotions within you reached a turbulent peak. Your voice wavered, a lump forming in your throat, while tears welled up, blurring your vision. Your heart ached with an amalgamation of anger, betrayal, and a searing sense of loss.

“Is that all, Coryo?” you cried out, your voice breaking, a mixture of anguish and fury lacing your words. “After everything we've been through, everything we meant to each other, it comes down to this? You're just going to cast me aside because of some girl from the Districts? I thought we had something special, something that overstep all this madness.”

Coriolanus's face mirrored your emotions. He extended his hand towards you in an attempt to bridge the growing chasm, but as your trembling form took one more step back, his outstretched fingers hung in the air.

“This isn't what I wanted,” Coriolanus said, the weight of the situation heavy in his voice. “But I can't change it, Y/N. I can't let anything threaten my chances in the Games.”

Your voice, now tinged with bitterness and a mixture of anger and despair. “You know what, Snow? I hope your beloved Lucy Gray meets an end sooner than you now expect,” you spat out, your words dripping with frustration and a sense of betrayal.

With those final, cutting words, you turned away, your shoulders heaving with the weight of your own tears. As you walked away, leaving him alone under the monkey house building, the pain of the crack that had torn through your relationship gnawed at your soul, a wound that may never fully heal.

Your intentions were far from those words; you genuinely wanted the best for him. Yet, in that moment, you realised that the fear of losing might have been the one thing that truly wounded Coriolanus.

part three »

#do you hear that? it's the sound of snow falling #the hunger games #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games headcanon #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #10th hunger games #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow scenario #breakup #heartbreak #betrayal #tom blyth #tom blyth fanfiction #hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games headcanon #hunger games x reader #ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #lucy gray baird #sejanus plinth #x reader #x y/n

[crevicedwelling]

baby face

in contrast to the giant centipedes of the Americas that often start out looking like their parents, many Scolopendra found in Africa and Asia have starkly different color patterns as babies that slowly shift to adult patterns as they grow, known as ontogenetic color change.

Vietnamese Scolopendra dehaani start out jet-black with orange appendages & head. some show a black mask near the eyes too, which is very cute! as adults, the body and head become a chocolate brown, the legs turn pale yellow with a gradient to orange in the last few pairs (in a less common form all legs are orange), and the antennae become bright red.

mine are growing rapidly and already seem a warmer shade of black than when I first got them two molts ago. I hope they’ll all be big brown dragons in another year or so!

#bugs #centipede #Scolopendra #Chilopoda

[hwashotcheeto]

𝑩𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑭𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅'𝒔 𝑴𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 (1)

Best Friend's Mother Masterlist

Chapter: One

Milf!Park Seonghwa X gn!reader

Summary: You finally meet Wooyoung's father, and he isn't who you were expecting at all.

WC: 3.3k

CW: Mostly more plot/character development, but suggestive at the end (teasing, flirting). Wooyoung is a brat (no one is surprised), Seonghwa uses pet names on the reader (darling, dear, (little) doll)

AN: Ahhh, here we go, first official chapter! There's no smut just yet BUT the next chapter will be, promise! I hope you enjoy!

Tag List: @hyunjinsjeans

You let out a huge sigh of relief as you submitted your final assignment for the semester. You flopped back onto your bed and laughed in relief, feeling your pulsing headache beginning to ebb away. 

The last day of the semester came way faster than you were prepared for. And you weren’t nearly as stressed as your normally would’ve been. 

Maybe because tonight, you and Wooyoung were leaving to go visit his dad. 

Wooyoung told you the next day after you asked that his father responded with an “enthusiastic yes,” and couldn’t wait to meet you. The last week of the semester flew by after that, and now you were here. 

You checked your phone, and you had thirty minutes before you had to meet up with Wooyoung before you started the drive back to his dad’s house. Thankfully, you’d packed most of your things the night before, so you spent your time double and triple checking everything, and collecting everything else you might need. 

And before you knew it, Wooyoung was texting you. 

Heyyyyy

I’m parked outside your dorm, I finished early

Did that essay kill you? 

Come onnnnn, we gotta go sooooooon

You ignored his texts until you were leaving the dorm. You got outside with your bags, being met with the early Winter weather. Cold air, a little bit of snow on the ground. Par for the course for northern November weather. 

Wooyoung got out of the car and helped you with your bags. “Did you bring your whole closet?” He asked as he put them into his trunk. 

“I had to, this is all I have.” 

“Oh, right. Well, you can borrow some of mine if you run out while we’re there.” 

You were going to be with Wooyoung and his dad, and maybe other family, until classes started again in January. A whole month away really was a small vacation, and you were ecstatic to be away from this building with your best friend. 

“Thanks, Wooyoung,” you said softly, hoping you wouldn’t have to bother him with borrowing his clothes. He smiled and motioned for you two to get in the car. 

And then you were off. It wasn’t a long trip, about a forty minute drive, but it felt way shorter to you. You were both incredibly relieved to be away from school, but also incredibly excited for what this Winter Break would hold. 

Your heart was pounding as Wooyoung entered his home town. He hadn’t told you much about where he grew up or where his dad lived, so when Wooyoung drove into a rich suburban neighborhood and pulled into the driveway of an extravagant house you were floored. 

The house was a minimalist, modern aesthetic. The colors were sharp and contrasted starkly, the windows were clear and clean, there wasn’t a speck of dirt anywhere.

“You didn’t tell me your dad was loaded,” you joked as Wooyoung turned off the car. But when you looked at him, he was nervous. You couldn’t really fathom why Wooyoung was nervous to be home, unless he himself didn’t want to see his father. 

But if Wooyoung didn’t want to see him, why did he bring you along? It didn’t make sense. 

“I need to tell you something about my dad before we go inside,” he started, looking down at his hands in his lap, fidgeting with them. You couldn’t help the numerous ridiculous thoughts that filled your head, trying to predict whatever Wooyoung was about to say. 

“My dad…” He was already hesitating and trailing off. Warning bells were going off inside your head. Wooyoung thought for a long while, before you could see him mentally make the decision to just rip the bandaid off. “My dad isn’t a masculine man. He prefers to dress like a woman.” 

And you sat stunned for a few seconds as to why your best friend thought this would be an issue for you. 

“Wooyoung, I’m sorry, but do you know me?” You asked. He looked up at you, and along with nervousness, guilt started creeping into his eyes. “I don’t care how your dad wants to dress or act, as long as he’s not an asshole.” 

You saw Wooyoung’s whole body relax, melting back into the car seat. He laughed softly. “Yeah, I don’t know why I was so nervous. I just didn’t want you to be surprised when we went inside to see him.” 

You nodded, and smiled encouragingly. He smiled back, and you both went to get out of the car. 

As you two were grabbing your respective bags, Wooyoung said “ah,” remembering something. “By the way, he prefers being called ‘mom’.”

“Are you sure your dad doesn’t have something to confess?” You said, half joking. Wooyoung laughed and shook his head. 

“No, no, it’s not like that. Believe me, I asked a couple years ago. He likes being a man, he just also likes looking feminine.” 

And then the nervous excitement bubbled up inside you as you both walked up the driveway, then the sidewalk, then the stairs to the front door. You could feel the mix of emotions clawing at your body from the inside out as Wooyoung struggled to grab the correct key. 

The excitement of meeting your best friend’s dad, along with the nervousness of wanting to impress him was making your stomach churn. But not in a way where you felt sick, your body just didn’t know how to calm down from everything. 

Wooyoung finally got the key out and unlocked the door. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest and run away. 

You walked inside and were greeted to the inside of the house reflecting the outside. Modern, stark, clean, but with tasteful decorations scattered throughout. Some paintings, statues, plants, decorative lights. 

But all of that was second to the gorgeous man in front of you. 

Wooyoung’s father-or, mother, as he preferred-was sitting on a large, plush couch to the left of the door, watching a movie. He looked over the couch and smiled at the two of you. You forgot to smile back, because you were staring in awe of how someone could be this beautiful. 

You didn’t hear what he was saying as he stood up to greet you two, because you got a full view of him and all the air left you. 

He was wearing a long sleeved sparkly sweater dress that stretched down to his knees, with sheer tights underneath. His black hair was fluffy and fell freely around his perfect face, reaching down to his jawline. 

Oh, his eyes and smile made your knees weak. You could feel nervous tremors run up and down your thighs. 

What might’ve surprised you the most was his hourglass figure. He had tits, hips, and a tiny waist. 

Oh, what a Winter Break this was about to be. 

“Hey!” Wooyoung called, and you suddenly remembered you weren’t in a dream. Both men were looking at you, Wooyoung slightly annoyed, and his mother amused. “Eomma, this is my friend. This is my mom, Seonghwa.” 

“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Seonghwa said, holding out his hand. You took his hand and tried to give the best handshake you could. His grip was firm, but delicate. Your eyes flicked down to look at his hands, and to your surprise, even his hands were feminine. 

“Thank you, it’s good to meet you too,” you babbled out, struggling to make sure your voice didn’t waver. Seonghwa smiled warmly as he pulled back, and he turned to Wooyoung to hug him tightly. Wooyoung struggled to return the hug with his bags on his arms, but he still managed to make it work. 

“Did you go out?” Wooyoung asked Seonghwa as he pulled back, looking over his mother’s outfit. “You’re all dressed up.” 

“No, but my son and his friend visiting me is reason enough to dress up.” 

You swear you could feel your head starting to get light. Wooyoung glanced at you, then back at his mother. 

“Okay, well, I’m gonna go unpack.” Wooyoung looked at you before continuing. “There’s a guest room close to mine, I’ll show you.” You nodded, and you two started for the stairs. 

“Don’t be too long!” Seonghwa called, “Dinner will be ready soon!” 

You felt your heart stutter at the mention of a home cooked meal for the first time since you couldn’t remember when. 

Wooyoung brought you down the hallway, turned to the right, and stopped at the end. “This room on the far end is the master room. Belongs to my mom, obviously.” Wooyoung waved his arms around to express his point, then motioned to the door on the left side of the hall, the one he was in front of. “This one is the guest room, and the one on the other side by the corner is mine.” He pointed to the door all the way down the hall. 

You nodded, your eyes betraying you and drifting to Seonghwa’s bedroom door. The forbidden room, your brain was telling you. You had no reason to go in there, but the idea of going beyond it- 

“Okay, dude, I can see that you were checking out my mom, okay?” Wooyoung blurts, making you whip your head back to him. You’d hoped you didn’t look as obvious as you felt, and your worst fear came true. 

If Wooyoung saw it, so did Seonghwa, and the mortification slowly took over your body as you felt your face burn hot. 

Your first instinct was to apologize, but you stopped yourself. All possible words left you, and you just stared at Wooyoung with fear and embarrassment all over your face. Wooyoung sighed and shook his head. 

“We’ll talk about this later, go unpack your stuff. Wait until I come get you.” And with that, he walked off to his room and disappeared into it. 

You didn’t even get to appreciate the gorgeous room you got to stay in, because you were too consumed with guilt to properly look over it. It was large, lavish, and comfortable, but you felt awful as you started unpacking. 

You were drooling all over your best friend’s mom the second you walked in the door. You couldn’t help yourself from feeling awful the entire time you put your luggage away. 

You jumped a whole foot in the air when you heard a knock on the door. The door creaked open and Wooyoung peeked inside. You were just finishing up as he came into the room, and you felt simultaneous relief and dread. 

Before you could stop it, words began tumbling out of your mouth. “Look Woo, I’m sorry, I know it was insanely disrespectful of me to act that way in front of your mom, I should’ve acted better and I-” 

“Woah, slow down,” Wooyoung said, holding his hands up. You stopped and swallowed back the rest of the words you thought of saying. You realized then that Wooyoung didn’t look upset anymore. In fact, he looked resigned. “I’m not mad. I think I was just protective.” He looked away for a second before he looked back at you. “I didn’t want you to think of my mom as some kind of porn character.”

“No, never!” You immediately blurted. 

“I know you’re not like that, and I’m sorry I snapped at you.” You could see in Wooyoung’s eyes, he felt remorseful. You found it a little weird, because he was justified in being upset. “People have done it in the past, he thinks he found a partner, and it turns out they liked the idea of having him as a personal porn star object, nothing more.”

The fact that such a revelation didn’t surprise you made you doubly upset. 

“So, I guess, what I’m saying is,” he started, and then sighed again. “I mean, if you fuck, just don’t tell me about it.” 

The bluntness of his request makes you choke, and you can feel your face instantly burn hot. Wooyoung finally breaks and laughs, and his laugh makes you laugh. 

You really were lucky to have an amazing friend. Not because he just gave you permission to fuck his mom, but that you could have proper conversations about issues and settle them like the adults you were. 

Then again, you both clearly still acted like teenagers, but it was like a wise man once said: There’s a time and place for everything. 

The three of you were sitting around the small dining table in the kitchen, enjoying the dinner Seonghwa had made for you all. Despite saying that it was a “small” table, there was still tons of space left over. You could fit much more food and people at this “small” dining table with how much space there was. 

The food was delicious. Half because Seonghwa was clearly a skilled cook, and half because you hadn’t eaten anything made with love in so long. The fact that it was made with love and care put into it made it taste stellar. 

“So,” Seonghwa started, looking over at you. “Why are you spending your break with us?” 

You expected this question. You’d rehearsed it a million times over. 

“I don’t talk to my parents, and the rest of my family already has plans this year.” It was the truth, but it didn’t give away too much information. Seonghwa gave you a sympathetic look with a slight pout. He must’ve realized you didn’t wanna talk about it more than that, because he didn’t push for you to explain more. 

“Well, I’m happy to have you.” You smiled and said a soft “thank you” before taking another bite of food. “You’re welcome.” 

You expected Wooyoung to be rolling his eyes with every look you gave Seonghwa, and to be annoyed with how permanently flushed your cheeks were. But to your surprise, he was giving you little smirks the entire meal, and giggling silently when your voice wavered as you spoke to Seonghwa. 

It’s like you two never really grew up. Two little kids giggling at each other from across the table, almost reminiscent of teasing your friends about their crush at lunch time. 

The big difference here is that your fucking crush is your best friend’s mom. 

And yet despite how obvious you two must’ve been, Seonghwa never commented on anything you two did. It was as if he hadn’t noticed a thing. 

You survived the rest of dinner, with light talk about how you and Wooyoung met, how school was going, your major, and more about you as a person. 

Seonghwa began to clean up when you all were done eating, but you grabbed your dishes and brought them to the sink. 

“What are you doing?” Seonghwa asked as you began to rinse off your utensils. He looked genuinely stunned, and you couldn’t understand why. 

“Cleaning?” 

“You don’t have to do that.” Seonghwa took the dishes from you. Not forcefully, but gently removing them from your hands. “I know, it’s polite to help, but I don’t mind cleaning. I actually like it.” 

“But you cooked. It’s the least I can do,” you argued. Seonghwa looked at you for a moment, then smiled. You felt your stomach flip over, and smiled back to cover it up. 

“Thank you, dear. That’s sweet of you.” 

The name shouldn’t have made you as flustered as it did. 

You spent the next few hours with Wooyoung and Seonghwa, continuing to talk, having some movies as background noise. As you sat with them, you observed their dynamic, and learned more about both of them in the process. 

Your irrational theories about Wooyoung being averse to Seonghwa couldn’t be more wrong. He was relaxed, comfortable, and he clearly loved his mom. Wooyoung was cuddled up to Seonghwa towards the end of your conversation, his head basically on Seonghwa’s chest and his arms around him. 

After the final movie, all three of you decided it was time to head to sleep. You said your good nights and went to your separate rooms. 

But despite the comfortable bed, the wonderful room, and the hospitality of Seonghwa, you couldn’t sleep. 

You looked at your phone, you shifted around, you tried walking around, but you didn’t feel tired. You were getting frustrated after a couple hours. 

You decided to go get a drink of water. Maybe it would calm you, or walking around would take your mind off trying to sleep. 

You quietly made your way out of your room and down the hallway, using the light from your phone to guide you. As you passed Wooyoung’s room, you heard him softly snoring. 

You got into the kitchen and carefully navigated to the cabinets. Seonghwa and Wooyoung both had shown you where to find cups in case a need like this arose during your visit. You didn’t expect to need it the night of, but here you were. 

You found a glass and got your water. It didn’t make you feel any better, but it did feel nice. 

“Can’t sleep, darling?” 

Your whole body jumped as you whirled around to look for the owner of the sound. You knew it was Seonghwa before you saw him, but you still weren’t prepared to see him in the archway, leaning against the wall, in a long black silk robe with flowers all over it. 

You shouldn’t have been fixated on the fact that his robe was open enough for you to see the line that ran down his chest, and the slight ridge of each side. 

He laughed softly before he spoke. “I’m sorry for startling you.” 

His voice was deeper than it was before. Smoother, almost. Like chocolate sauce. 

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it,” you mumbled, trying to keep your eyes on his face. That ended up not working out as his eyes made you feel small, and you looked to focus on your glass instead of him. 

But what you didn’t know yet was that Seonghwa didn’t like to be ignored. You looked at him when he spoke to you. It was a rule like any other. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and you listen to Seonghwa. 

He walked over to you and grabbed your chin, turning your head to look up at him. Your mind went blank and your stomach churned inside you like a washing machine. A smirk pulled the corners of his mouth up as your cheeks turned red yet again. 

“There we are,” he cooed softly, his voice hardly more than a rumble in his throat. 

“Seonghwa, what are you doing?” You said, your voice wavering on every word. Amusement sparkled in his eyes as he moved even closer, his hand moving to the back of your neck. 

“Don’t tell me I was hallucinating the looks you gave me since you showed up. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you checking me out the entire time?” 

Of course not, you knew there was a strong possibility he knew everything. He was at least over double your age, he was no stranger to all of this. 

“I just didn’t think you’d do anything.” You began to stutter more as you struggled to pick the right words. You could see it clearly, in his big dark eyes, that he was enjoying watching you fight to stay composed. 

“And why wouldn’t I? You’re a cute little doll, how could I resist?” 

Your heart gave one massive beat you could feel throughout your whole body. The air in your lungs was sucked out. Your head felt light. You didn’t feel like you remembered how to stand. 

Seonghwa laughed again, and his eyes shifted to something more hungry. More primal. “Come, little doll,” he said, pulling you even closer until you were pressed up against his chest. “Won’t you stay with me for the night?” 

How could you answer with anything besides “yes”?

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed! 💜

This is a work of fiction written by me. This does not represent the idol(s) in any way. Any re-upload is not allowed and will be reported.

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez fic #ateez ff #ateez smut #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #seonghwa fanfiction #seonghwa fic #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa ff

[126dvtn]

— siiiiiiigh.

summary : the genshin men are totally not jealous.

cw : jealousy ; miscomm ; implicit possessivness

genre : idk bros can't call it fluff ; established relationship

characters : childe, diluc, ayato, scaramouche

childe ; oh, the pain! the agony!

if there's anything you don't want to do, it's making childe jealous. he'll go about his way, strolling the city with you, all while heaving dramatic sighs that catch the attention of passersby. frequent are your attempts to get him to stop. and he does, for the most part- but only when your attention is on him. let's say, a friend of yours comes up to you to say hello; a long time no see. your lover, who was well-behaved up to this point, prepares himself to start his performance.

"childe, i'm telling you- they're just a friend i haven't met in a while!" you pinch the bridge of your nose, embarrassed. the friend in question could only laugh; whether from discomfort or amusement, you'll never know. "my sweetheart is leaving me for someone else, right in front of my eyes! oh, woe is me!" and you swear he'd contemplated falling to his knees on the spot. there're many responses from the strangers around you. some snicker, some scuttle away as fast as they can. you can only stare in horror. finally, after muttering a quick apology to your friend, you grab your wailing lover to flee his stage.

diluc rangvindr ; silent woes.

when diluc is jealous, he doesn't let you know about it; at least not directly. he'll spend hours in his office, only leaving the room to check if you're still there. asking him if anything's wrong would result in a nonchalant "nope"- and then back to his work burrow he goes. it's obvious, however, that something is bothering him, and you're going to get to the bottom of it. a knock on his door wakes him from his dejected trance.

enter you; diluc's antagonist on this dull day. as you lean against his desk across him, he turns ever so slightly away despite the magnetic pull of your concerned eyes. "i know something's up, luc. talk to me." silence greets your ears. so you try again. "diluc, tell me what's wrong- we can work this out together." and his looming eyes meet yours. the sulking man leans back, crossing his arms- his assertion diluted by the pout on his face. it's a full minute before his much anticipated explanation leaves his scowling lips- "why'd you hang out with kaeya without me?"

kamisato ayato ; i would never-!

now, ayato acts like everything is okay. the keyword here is "act", and it's a known fact between you that his acting only peaks when it comes to business. with you, however, his gestures give his jealousy away. all attention is on paperwork. not a glance spared, save for when you call his name and he responds with a restrained "yes, darling?". you best believe he doesn't plan to actually answer you until... well, until you pester him for long enough.

and pester him you do. ayato looks at your hand covering the documents before him with amusement in his eyes. "is this because i went grocery shopping with thoma just now?" your ask is genuine. but lord forbid he gives a straightforward answer, for his reply is an eyebrow raise, coupled with an innocent "oh?". frustrated, you clench your teeth- if he won't be straightforward, then you will. "you're jealous, aren't you?" he continues feigning ignorance. "me, jealous? as if!" he tilts his head, but upon your serious expression, he stops- his visage starkly turning stern. "yes, i am jealous. you do know that you're mine, do you not?"

scaramouche ; that of which is unusual.

acting normal is the last thing scaramouche does when he's jealous. the abnormality here isn't in his expression, no; the irritated twitch in his eyebrow is an everyday occurrence- what with the constant incompetency of his subordinates. it isn't in his words, either. you can almost proudly say that his berating of anything inconvenient is like white noise in the background. what is meant by 'unusual' here is his heightened sense of romance in a random situation.

"um... scaramouche?" your hand travels to your hip when a strange sensation graces it. "what." curt is scaramouche's response; but the sting in it isn't directed to you. "your hand-" "yes, i'm aware that it's on your waist. what about it?" well, you think, at least he's aware of it. you decide not to question it further. but it's a matter of time until you notice that his glare hasn't left a particular area in front of you- and tracing his line of vision leads to a person shifting stiffly in their seat. as if sensing your shared gaze, he finally speaks up. "the way they looked at you pisses me off. shall i show them you're mine?"

#genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #diluc x reader #ayato x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin x reader

[lcverwrites]

aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader (daemon's daughter) drabble

note: am I playing into the over popular trope of making reader daemon's daughter: yes, I am. am I sorry about it: no I am not.

"No one could love a cripple" Aemond sulked, placing his hands below his chest, feeling the subtle rise and fall of each breath he took.

His alabaster skin was still tickled pink with splatters of blood, the thick oozing had subsided after the Maester had stitched the clean slice across his flawless skin. The stitching zig-zagged across his skin, protruding in places and sinking in others. The dark black thread starkly standing out against the pale hue of his skin. Starting from his temple, coursing down the right side of his face, right over his once violet eye, down to the middle of his cheek.

Right over his once violet eye.

It wasn't something to gloss over, Lucerys had slashed Aemond right across his eye, taking the damn eye with it. There was nothing left behind to salvage, so the Maester had said, he was lucky the blade did not go any deeper.

She shuddered at the thought, loosing an eye was a terrible misfortune, but she would be forever grateful that Aemond was strong enough to survive it.

"I won't listen to you speak so terribly about yourself" She retorted, seating herself on the edge of Aemond's bed, placing her hands gently in her lap.

"'Tis nothing but the truth" Aemond hummed lowly, his single eye stared blankly at the ceiling.

Whatever thoughts that carried their way through his mind, she was not privy to them. She bit her tongue, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him, her Aemond.

The boy she knew, the one who lurked beneath the scared surface, who hid behind his brooding and melancholy thoughts, the boy who couldn't keep a single thought from her, the one person in the world who was nothing but truthful with her.

But now, it was as if she were talking with a stranger. Someone she no longer knew, he was guarded in a way that was strange to her, she wasn't able to see past the solid walls he was starting to build.

"No, it is not true, I won't let you believe that is the truth" She was firm in her words, no stuttering to be found, though she felt as if her heart was about to leap from her chest, nervousness tickling her skin.

"How can you prove something that is so plainly shown" Aemond's voice lowered, sounding as if he was on the verge of bursting into tears, but holding himself back from further humilation.

There was nothing to be ashamed of, not with her.

"You forget yourself, my prince" She replied simply.

"There isn't a woman in the seven kingdoms who would take a second glance at a boy with a scar as hideous as mine own" Aemond finally looked at her.

Her breath caught in the back of her throat, stilling her heart for a mere moment. For the first time since the prince had returned to King's Landing, he showered her with his unbridled emotions. There were so many things swirling around in those violet hues, so many emotions.

She could hear the bitterness pouring from his words, sticking to every syllable that passed his lips. She could see the hatred shading his eyes, stormy and crackling. Like lighting striking the earth beneath her feet, like embers of a flame licking at her skin, it was a searing sort of hatred.

But there was fear, a coldness lingering in the deep hue of his eye, like he was fighting off the sharp, howling winter winds from the North. A frigidness in the way his shoulders sat, straighter, almost vexing, preparing for the foulness he was handed by those whom were supposed to care.

"You lay claim to the largest dragon in all history" She reasoned gently, her stare never faulting from his gaze, despite the intensity of it. "Vhagar wouldn't allow anyone to claim her, less they be anything but extraordinary"

She wanted him to know, she wasn't afraid of his maimed appearance.

"Means nothing" Aemond denied, clenching his hands in tight fists.

"I hardly believe that Aemond" It was her turn to scoff. "You are the son of the King, Prince Aemond, first of his name--"

"And what!" Aemond exclaimed, sounding angry, finally letting something slip past the sturdy walls. "I'm supposed to be okay with my future lady wife only loving me for riding the largest dragon, or for being the son of the king"

"Perhaps, my prince, you should allow me to finish" She didn't allow his raised voice scare her, she straightened her back, looking at the prince with a fierceness that faltered him. + "I mean, those things are only a fraction who you are, you are wise beyond your years, far better with a sword than most of the knights in King's landing, and you are a mere boy, imagine what you shall be like, a man of extraordinary talents, you shouldn't allow a silly little scar--

"'Silly little scar' you think this deformity is merely a simple little scar?!" Aemond cut off the Princess against, sounding aghast at the thought of his wound being compared to a silly little scar.

"Lest you forget my Prince, I am still a Princess, I'd take back the tone of your words"

She wasn't going to let Aemond walk all over her, just because his melancholy thoughts were eating him alive, didn't mean he had the right to treat those who care for him, as if they were dirt beneath his boots.

He was welcome to be upset about the wound, she'd find him odd if he didn't grieve the loss of his own eye, but he was allowing his grief and anger over take him.

Blinding him to what he may become.

"This scar has taken my eye from me, and any chance of living anywhere close to the realm of normalcy" Aemond disregarded her praise, turning his gaze from her face to the tight fists his hands had knowingly formed.

"We Targaryen's are beyond the realm of normalcy" The Princess denied once more, tilting her head a fraction, as she watched a subtle pink hue painted Aemond's pale skin. "We are gods among men, lest you forget"

"No god has a scar like this" Aemond sounded defeated now, tired, depleted of energy to try and fight back.

"Only those blessed by the old gods and the new" She felt herself smile a little as she watched Aemond's eyes slowly trail along the length of his bed, finding her still perched on the edge of the bed. "Those they deme worthy, survive with a mere scar to prove their strength"

Aemond remained silent at her words, but the icy glare had subdued in his violet eyes, gaining a millimetre of warmth.

For a moment, she could see her Aemond, slipping past the façade he was creating.

"There are still people in this very castle, whom love you, scar and all" She replied easily, knowing it to be true.

"My family are the least of my worries" Aemond brushed off with a simple shake of his head, wincing a little as the action tugged at the puckered skin of his face. "They are stuck with me"

"Perhaps" The Princess' voice carried a gentle tone, sounding just above a whisper.

She reached a soft hand to grasp Aemond's closed fist, making the prince jump, breath catching in the back of his throat. She made no moves to remove her hands from his, keeping a barely there touch on his hands.

"I however" She paused her words, and for the first time, she had trouble keeping her gazed locked on Aemond's, feeling heat pinching at her cheeks. "Can choose where I shall reside, and there is no place I would rather be, than by your side"

"Please don't grant pity on me" Aemond whispered, looking deep within her violet eyes, trying to find an inkling of deceit, only to come up empty handed, and feeling his heart fluttering wildly in his chest.

"Never pity, not with you, my Aemond" Her smile was warm, like the feeling of being welcomed home, of the warm summer sun tickling his skin, of being loved wholeheartedly without restraint.

She pressed her palm firmly against his fist, opening the tight hold he had. His resolve melted like butter beneath her palm, hand falling open without fight, without complaint, willing and able. Just hearing her call him, her Aemond, there was not a more thrilling feeling.

"My heart, will always belong to you"

She could feel her own heart beating beneath her skin, rapid and heavy, jumping and leaping. The confession felt light on her lips, like breathing in the freshest spring air.

"And my scar. . ." Aemond was timid in tone, but his hand moulded around the Princess', holding it gently.

"It has never wavered, and it never shall"

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen blurb #aemond targaryen drabble #aemond imagine #hotd aemond #aemond x targaryen!reader #house of the dragon drabble #house of the dragon imagine #hotd drabble #hotd imagine

[starklyscifi]

Bluebirds by the Sea

It is hot. Too hot. Everyone in their right minds is following the lead of the locals and taking a mid-day nap in their hotel rooms.

The beach is empty.

“So that’s it then?”

Sweat drips down her back, rolls uncomfortably into the waistband of her jeans.

“It’s over?”

She couldn’t not wear jeans. No one looks badass in shorts.

“Really over?”

Thank God for linen shirts. And the well known fact that leather jackets were only a necessity for being taken seriously in the cooler months of the year. She is boiling alive as it is already.

“Shelia?”

She blinks, the fake name taking too long to register.

“Sure.”

He looks down at his bloody hands.

Amateur.

“You’re lying,” he says.

At this point, she’ll say anything to get out of the fucking sunshine. Tell him he’s a purple unicorn with wings, or that he’s good at his job. Or that she likes spending time with him.

“Will you take care of that already?”

He seems to register for the first time that he’s covered in blood, his eyes darting around nervously. She doesn’t move. It’s noon in the middle of July in a resort town in Spain. There’s no one to hide from.

“Everyone’s asleep, just wash up and let’s go before that’s not true anymore.”

He wonders down to the water’s edge, looking like a puppet with a bad master pulling the strings. All jerky movements and feigned nonchalance.

She rolls her eyes behind the high-end sunglasses. Looking badass requires sunglasses, and specifically high-end ones. She spent the entire payout from one job on these, and they’re worth every penny. If no other reason than to hid her irritation from a partner she never asked for.

He comes back, looking like an idiot, but blood free enough for the short walk back to the hotel, where she has to wait for him to shower and scrub the remaining stains out of his shirt.

Anyone worth their salt knows a knife makes a terrible assassin’s weapon.

She ticks off everything about him she doesn’t like as he takes too long in the bathroom. He’s slow. He’s clumsy. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.

He thought that trying to slit someone’s throat was a good idea when she was right there with a syringe in her hand.

Men.

So messy.

“You’re an assassin,” he’d said, the first time she’d complained about his love of knives. They’d been on a train, heading out of Germany and into Denmark. She likes Denmark. It’s one of those places that almost stays a leather-jacket-wearable temperature all year.

“Doesn’t mean I have to be a slob.”

He had looked genuinely offended by that one. But then again, he looked genuinely offended by most things.

He walks out of the bathroom, breaking her reverie, wiping his hands with a plush towel before throwing it on the pile of clothing to be burned. Or discarded in someone’s dumpster, just before trash pick-up. There was no way she was letting him play with matches. He’d burn the city down.

“Is it over?”

She shakes her head, and tells him to leave it to her this time.

Later, when they find the tourist trap they're looking for, he waits outside, lingering in the falling dusk. The heat is just as oppressive in the dark.

She asks for a drink she doesn’t like in a language she doesn’t speak, the order memorized carefully. The bar is filling up with tourists. Perfect cover. No one notices one woman standing at the bar, slipping powder into some God-awful cocktail and swapping glasses out with the old, fat white guy sitting next to her and drinking the same.

On her way out, she takes one sip and grimaces.

Anyone who liked something that sweet deserved to die.

He’s waiting for her in the alleyway, like a bad hangover that just won’t go away.

“Is it over now?”

“You’re not very good at this.”

“I’m new.”

“You’re fundamentally not very good at this.”

He looks her up and down, massaging one hand with the other.

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

He takes off, in the confident, assured, male way that assumes she’ll follow. He never looks back. She never looks forward.

“Are you coming?” he calls out.

She is.

She’s always hated summer anyway.

@flashfictionfridayofficial

#flashfictionfriday #flash fiction #starkly mine #dark fiction #assassins #we're baaacck #hopefully more regularly #grad school is wrapping up #writers of tumblr #original fiction #fiction writers #tw death #tw blood #tw violence

[borderlinebelle]

🗣️🧠

Has anyone ever taken a stimulant for ADHD and it cured your manic mess but simultaneously erased your creative joyful childlike wonder at the world and your interest in the people you share it with?

💊

Am I cured or broken indefinitely to better suit “adulthood”?

🙃

As I wade through the vibrant and manic mess that was the BEFORE STIMULANTS and I look out onto the starkly dull and muted tones of the AFTERS STIMULANTS… the pendulum swings and I violently and obediently bend with it.

🫡

I can balance my budget now. Proficient in punctuality and productivity. Finishing work projects that used to take weeks? EASY. Calculating and efficient, I am almost unemotional as I smash through barriers that once kept me at a stand still for weeks.

🥇

The counter balance to these super abilities is glaring:

👀

1. I find it difficult to produce an ounce of creativity.

2. I am colder, more calculating.

3. I find empathy over other people’s emotions a far off tingle of familiarity I reach for and only brush.

4. I find even accessing my own emotions to be difficult.

5. I find little pleasure from completing tasks just a dull and far off ✅ that reminds me of pleasure but has none of the organic material.

6. I lack spark behind my eyes.

🗣️🧠

In conclusion, the video I filmed for today’s YOUTUBE launch felt… soulless and lacking. It felt disingenuous. I wasn’t talking to YOU, my mental health friends. I was just … talking.

😪

TO BE BRUTALLY HONEST: I’m unsure how to proceed with the channel, with my content… with my identity outside of MANIC PIXIE DREAM GIRL … I feel really really defeated if I’m honest. I’ve spent my entire adult life in survival mode and for the first time, on this new medication, I can see dozens of strategies to LEAVE SURVIVAL and CHASE AFTER THRIVE… but I didn’t think it would COST ME… my personality, my creativity, my identity.

🔎🤷🏽‍♀️

Idk but, I guess .. that’s the way with these things. Mental health, medication, stabilization…

🫥

Mental health isn’t “pretty and punctual” so said my producer tonight. It can ALSO be “imperfect and valuable”. Nothing is a perfect science, everyone is just doing their best I guess.

😮‍💨

Fighting your own brain 🧠 daily, hourly, weekly, monthly, yearly is exhausting work. I’m so deeply proud of everyone out there choosing to fight another day. I hope to continue being as brave and resilient as you all are.

🫣

It’s 12:00am. I’ve officially missed the “NEW VIDEO EVERY SUNDAY” standard I set for myself and I have to admit I’m taking it very poorly and I feel pretty defeated, but I had to come let the few who support my cross platform… that I’m sorry I couldn’t get there today.

🫀

Returning to YouTube after being run off by a parasocial making very real threats years ago, has been a delicious dream of mine for so long.

💭

I just deactivated both my Instagram and Facebook as they were both just reminding me of this missed deadline, of this empty channel, of what feels like a failure. In the age of comparison and competition, TO BE A HUMAN IS NOT EASY.

😬

So I’ll regroup, recoup, lean into coping mechanisms, touch base with my therapist + psychiatrist… and keep trying to find a way through.

💙

Thank you for your interest in my content.

🥸

I appreciate you deeply.

🫶🏽

I anticipate that this hopefully … won’t be the end.

🖊️ xoxo borderlinebelle

#BorderlineBelle #mental health matters #mentally drained #personality disorder #actually adhd #stimulants #recovery #personal #embarrassing #i want to crawl into a hole and rest for 100 years #i want to wander away #adulthood is a scam #failure #bpd shit #bpd vent #bpd thoughts #bpd feels #rage quit #numb inside #love that for me #Texas here I come #youtube creator #mental health is health #mental health is messy

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hey there! Saw requests were open was wondering if I could get some yandere!rick prime headcanons? I know he doesn’t “technically” care about anything but I could see him as the type to be like “I decided you’re mine so you’re mine” kinda thing! thanks for the writing we love and appreciate you for it!

Yandere Rick Prime

Headcanons

How did you know Prime Rick is one of my fave Rick and Morty characters anon 👀

Tw for yandere themes, ig?

 -          You are right to believe that Rick Prime would have no love for another person or living creature, as he sees little to no worth in others and their lives. He especially would hate other Ricks, or anyone related to Ricks.

-          But if you happen to catch his attention somehow, I wish you luck. Now, it would be difficult in the first place to catch his attention in a way that he doesn’t want to test you or want you dead.

-          Maybe you are rare in the multiverse, maybe other versions of you work as a great companion or lover for other Ricks. That would be enough to catch his attention in the beginning at least, so he would find a version of you that fits his palette the most and take them.

-          Prime Rick has most likely taken multiple versions of yourself before he comes across you, but when they stopped serving their purpose or grew boring, he would get rid of them, each in different disgusting and violent ways.

 -          When he stumbled across you in the multiverse though, he became hooked in the way an addict is hooked. Now, he has no romantic love for you, it’s more the love one has for their car or their pet.

-          You are different from other versions of yourself, seeing as you have no Rick or Morty. Actually, you had grown tired of your Ricks shit and told him to shove it after a few too many adventures went south and after your Rick verbally abused you too much.

-          That really had Prime interested, as most versions of you always bent over backwards for Ricks and put up with the treatment. Prime started stalking you after that, researching you and your habits like one would an insect or newly discovered animal.

-          He will go through your things with little care, not caring if you realize he’s stalking you. I mean, what could you really do against him if you ever caught him?

 -          He stays hidden in the beginning more for the fun of it, wanting to see if your dimensions Rick will notice him, or if you will ever figure it out.

-          Prime has a good laugh when you assume its your dimensions Rick that has been going through your things, stealing your clothes, or even taking your toothbrush. In reality its Prime who’s been taking all of it, adding it to an ever growing “pile of research” that in reality is more akin to a shrine.

-          His interest in you bubbles into obsession at some point, not that Prime really minds it one bit. His thoughts are consumed by you, and he has decided by himself that you are his version of (Y/N) whether you like it or not.

-          Prime starts planning on taking you with him, having seen how many Ricks take their version of you on dates or adventures, he wants that too, just to try it out he tells himself. Not because his obsession has grown to the point where he lives and breathes you.

  -          He loves how different you are, he wants to take you apart and find out just why you are so starkly the opposite of other versions of you.

-          He’s convinced you are specifically made for him, and that the reason you grew tired of your own Ricks shit was because he wasn’t good enough, and that since Prime is the true Rickest Rick, you will be perfect together.

-          Prime will lose his shit one day when your dimensions Rick shows up to your place, trying to apologize the way Ricks do. It even looked like your Rick had cut down on his drinking, cleaned himself up and tried to adjust his behavior.

-          Right as Prime is about to go in and kill the Rick, you just scoff at the other man and tell him to go die for all you care and slam the door in his face.

-          Prime is delighted because this just fits the theory in his mind even more, that the only Rick right for you is himself.

 -          One day Prime will simply wander into your life. You’re sitting on the couch in your living room, maybe trying to find a job or similar, when a green portal opens above the couch.

-          At first you think its your dimensions Rick and are ready to unleash hell upon him when he lands on the cushions, but the arm thrown over your shoulder isn’t wearing a lab coat, and looking close this Rick has completely different hair and looks younger.

-          Normally you would have yelled at the random Rick anyways for barging in on you like that, but something about the look in this Ricks eyes and the way his smile just seemed a little too sharp at the edges made something tingle in the back of your mind.

-          The tingle was fight or flight, and where among (Y/N)s you were different, because yours always told you to fight compared to other versions of yourself who always took flight. For once it didn’t just tell you to run, it screamed it so loud you tried to fling yourself off the couch.

-          But Primes arm was iron tight around your shoulder and pulled you right back down, the Rick cackling at your attempted scramble, seeming extremely amused as you tried to hit, scratch, kick and even bite.

 -          You could do nothing but struggle as Prime wrapped both his arms around you, pulling you against his chest, not even reacting as you nail him between the legs in a last attempt to free yourself.

-          When you have tired yourself out completely and finally look up at the Rick, Prime shoots you a smile that would almost be sweet, if it wasn’t for the fact that he had blood splattered all over his face.

-          That’s when you finally notice how he seemed to be slathered in the stuff, trying to flinch back when one of his hands come up to cradle your face in his palm, leaving a wet bloody handprint against your skin.

-          “Come on (Y/N), why are you trying to leave so badly?” he coos as if taunting you. Some part of your brain notices that he isn’t burping or slurring like other Ricks you’ve met, but the survival part of your brain didn’t care much for those facts.

-          “W-what do you want” you growl out, trying your best to glare at the man holding you still in his lap with just one arm. Prime laughs at your expression, the dark look on your face making his heartrate quicken. Never had a version of you looked so murderous, even when he was ripping them apart.

 -          “Well, I’m here to pick you up. As your Rick, we should always be together” Prime said with a large grin, the grip around your waist tightening as he said he was your Rick.

-          The grip on your face grew rougher as Prime pulled your face closer to his own, his eyes boring into yours. There was a light in them that made a deep pit of dread grow in your stomach, your tongue peeking out to pet your suddenly very dry lips and mouth.

-          Primes eyes immediately snapped down to the movement, his pupils dilating somewhat as he saw the pink of your tongue. Prime didn’t love you, not romantically like other Ricks loved their (Y/N), but he wanted you.

-          “I already have a Rick” you finally force out, the dread growing larger at the way his eyes snapped up again, staring at you like he could pick you apart piece by piece with just this attention.

-          Then he started laughing, so hard it made his whole body bounce and making you bounce along with it. Releasing your cheek, he wiped away a tear that had gathered from his laughing before he spoke.

-          “Oh, that guy? Where do you think I was before I came here?” he asked, seeming to take great joy in the way your eyes widened, and your pupils shrank. “Come on, you couldn’t expect me to let that fucker live after touching what’s mine, took care of that little family of his too” he purred, leaning in closer, his tight grip keeping you still even as you tried to struggle.

 -          A flare of anger and anguish spread through your body, even though you hated Rick, you didn’t want him to die, or for the Smith family to die either.

-          Seeing the way your eyes filled with fire made Prime excited, he loved seeing just how different you were, and he loved your reactions.

-          When you opened your mouth to yell at him, Prime surged forwards and grabbed your chin before forcing his tongue past your lips and into your mouth. You tried to struggle but the grip on your chin and the grasp he had on your hips kept you from getting away.

-          Prime groans in pleasure when you try and bite his tongue, blood filling your mouths and mixing with the spit and dribbling down your chins. He can’t keep his eyes from rolling back as you bite hard enough to sever his tongue, the piece of flesh going limp in your mouth.

-          When Prime finally pulls back, a string of blood and spit connecting your mouths, you gag and spit out the muscle, retching to try and get the taste and feeling to go away. Tears gather in your eyes as it finally hits you just what Prime had done, and how crazy he was.

 -          Forcing you to look at him once again, you struggle to see through the tears as he sticks out the non-severed part of his tongue, horror washing through you as you see the muscle regrow with ease.

-          Something flares up inside you, this time a deep gut turning fear and need for survival as you try to struggle once again, tears running down your cheeks as you continue to gag on the blood in your mouth and memory of biting off his tongue.

-          Seeming to have grown tired of your struggling for now, you don’t notice Prime injecting you with something until your body goes limp. You can’t even choke out words as Prime wraps his arms around your waist and stands up, lifting you without any issue.

-          As your vision started to darken you could hear the sound of a portal being opened, your thoughts turning to mush as your head finally gave out and you fell against his shoulder.

-          A few tears ran down your cheeks as you fall into unconsciousness, wetting the shoulder of Primes jacket as he carried you through the portal. You had no idea what he was saying, his words blurring together as you fall unconscious, but you were sure whatever he had to say was bad news for you.

#male reader #yandere #yandere rick and morty #yandere x reader #yandere x male reader #rick and morty #rick and Morty x reader #rick and morty x male reader #rick and morty imagine #rick and morty headcanon #rick sanchez #rick sanchez x male reader #rick sanchez x reader #rick sanchez imagine #rick sanchez headcanon #prime rick #rick prime #rick prime x reader #rick prime x male reader #rick prime imagine #rick prime headcanon #yandere rick sanchez

[zombiekilllers]

Roach x Medic! reader

Medic reader is hopeless about furthering her small relations with Roach, until one un mistakeable opportunity arises to grow closer with the quiet soldier.

Word count: 1200

gn!reader x roach !!

Persistent beeping of machinery in the infirmary encapsulated my ears entirely, as I focused on packing up the last of my medical supplies after a long grueling day on the job. 

Being a medic here was never easy work, horrible wounds and people in agony is a sight I had to see and treat on the daily. Sometimes, the turmoil all catches up to me.

 On rare quiet moments where I was the one of the only people left in the infirmary, and nothing but the sounds of beeping filled my ears was when reflection of the day made my psyche weak. 

As I put away the last tool at my station I found myself unable to get up from my small wheeled chair. My vision zoned out on the doorway and that damned beeping was almost deafening as I recalled all of the horrors I had seen just this day. The gruesome wounds, the cries of pain, the feeling of defeat when you know there is nothing left you can do to save a life, even when saving people is your primary job. 

A person entered the doorway, and the figure that was at first unrecognizable in my half unconscious state, became starkly clear as I came to my senses and looked up at the approaching soldier. 

Him. 

Roach. This alias was the only name I knew him by, but that was enough for me. His awfully quiet demeanor was of stark contrast to the rest of his task force he belonged to, the rest of the force following closely behind him while in conversation. 

They always pass through the medical bay on their way back to the barracks at the end of the day, a path in which I welcome with open arms. Even the passing sight of Roach was enough to lift my spirits slightly, though no words are being exchanged between us in this passage, hardly a fleeting moment of eye contact. 

My infatuation with him was a slow growing one, with his small silent acts of kindness towards me everytime I served him in my medical bay making my heart grow fond of him. Consistent muted demeanor was not only something I have never seen in the soldiers I treat, but also something that adds a level of mystery to my mystery man. 

I glanced up to meet eyes with Soap, who was now in front of the task force members and steadily making his way towards the barracks. 

“y/n”

He acknowledged me with a small smile and greeting nod as he passed, a greeting I met with my own affirming nod. 

Roach was now the last in the lineup of passers by, I knew that even the short lasting presence of his would make me forget about my current feeling of deprecation towards my job, and boost my emotions. 

His eyes, which could barely be seen from behind his goggles, met mine for a second, had a small crinkle to them and a certain gleam that would indicate that he was casting a smile in my direction, a gesture that I could feel make my cheeks heat up. 

Such a silly thing for me to feel, I thought to myself as I was once again in the medical bay all alone. Such feelings for a man I rarely see, a man who has not verbally returned the words I exchanged to him, a man whose presence was swallowed in secrecy. 

I pondered as I was returning to my own quarters what I could possibly do to increase my interaction levels with Roach. It would be a bit strange for one of the medics to begin trailing a sergeant without any established reason like a lost dog, and no other form of resolve came to mind. 

An empty bed was what I crawled into with the prospect of Roach still on my mind. I have always taken full acknowledgement to myself that he most likely barely registers me in his mind, but still; tiny glimmers of hope always serge through me everytime he gives me that familiar gleaming stare. 

I thought any attempts I would make towards getting closer to him could be futile. 

Last fleeting thought sin my half awake state consistent of incoherent hopes for some sort of opportunity to get closer to this silent masked man, 

One can only hope. 

                                                                   。      。    。

Four knocks in rapid succession upon my door was what woke me up the next groggy morning. 

Confusion filled my head immediately. People almost never need me or my skill set so desperately they feel they need to come to my quarters, especially so early in the morning. Cracking open the door, the familiar friendly face of Laswell meets me. 

“Oh! Morning Laswell,”

I say rubbing my eyes driving away the last feelings of sleep. Her face appears lenient, but with an underlying appearance of some form of worry, something I have never seen in Laswell before. 

 “Is there something wrong in the medbay?” 

I inquired, not knowing what else she could possibly need from me so desperately. 

“Y/n, your file states that you have had an extensive history as a sniper, and by the sounds of it you were a damn good one at that.” 

My eyes widen in curiosity at such an opening statement. What could have possibly provoked her to dig up my file, let alone read it? It was true my service used to include me being exclusively a recon sniper, but I did not see how such a skill would impact my work as a medic. 

I nod my head at her slowly, Not yet knowing her intentions behind this visit had me approaching with severe caution. 

“Well, call it late notice but we have a task force going on a mission where the skills of a sniper are needed. I asked around and discovered you used to have quite skill set for the job.” 

“What?”

I look at her with unmasked bafflement. Why would I of all people be the first selected for such a high rank sounding mission, as a medic? 

“Your extensive skills as a medic also play a contributing role, they could use one out on the field, you know.” 

I glanced down at the floor, trying to make sense of the situation. Should I even accept? The proposition sounded too daunting for me, especially considering I have not used a gun let alone picked up one for several months now. 

“Why me of all people?” 

I decided to ask. Be it blunt or not, the curiosity of these circumstances were eating away at me. 

Laswell paused in a moment of thought, before smiling in remembrance. 

“One of the members of this force recommended you in particular to be the member joining this mission. Would have never even known you used to be a sniper without them.”

I squint my eyes for her looking for an answer to who could have possibly recommended me into such a specific mission. The more compounding thought that came first was which task force was even being discussed. I tilt my head at her. 

‘Which task force?”

“141.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is my first attempt at writing a fanfiction ever! Was not pleased with the lack of Roach love.

Should I continue this??

#roach cod #call of duty #fanfic #roach x reader #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #cod modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #x reader #gender nuetral reader #kate laswell #laswell cod

[julemmaes]

Always Been You

Nesta Archeron x Cassian, ~2.5k words

a/n: I saw a reel of a baby and this was born, it's trash but I love them, so enjoy!

"Sweetheart, do you know where my sweater is?! The black one?"

Cassian was rummaging through his wardrobe in desperate need of something heavy to wear in the frigid winter Velaris was hitting them with.

Nesta's robotic voice came from the speaker of his phone, hidden somewhere between his bed sheets. "Uh, might be here, actually."

Here, as in her place. On the other side of the city. More than half an hour from his flat.

He groaned, bending his head forward and halting his hunt.

"Care to tell me why yet another piece of clothing of mine is at yours?"

Nesta chuckled, rejoicing in his despair. He glared at the phone, thankful that his best friend couldn't see him and level him with an equally nasty look.

Her words came muffled this time, more distant, and Cassian knew he'd put him on speaker.

"Not my fault this time. You used it to wrap Little Miss Sunshine up," he couldn't help the smile at the nickname he used to call her daughter. "You claimed she was gonna be too cold on the oh so long way from your car to the door."

"Sounds like something I would do," he muttered to himself, a dopey grin on his lips still. He loved that little nug of happiness that was Nesta's daughter. He loved her as if she were his own.

He shook his head, focusing on the date ahead, and put on another sweater, of a light brown colour he despised, and shook out his duvet, fishing for the phone.

Turning off the speaker, he put it to his ear, "You think I could pass by after the pub?"

Nesta only hummed, seeming distracted.

A few beat of silence, "What is the girl's name again?"

Cassian clenched his jaw, pondering whether he should lie or not, and knowing full well that if he gave Nesta too much information she would stalk the poor lady till sunrise.

"Her name is Anne," he lied.

"Liar," she scoffed. Then she grunted, "Whatever, keep your secrets. But don't come crying to me when you'll find out she has a secret dark past as a pig slaughterer."

Cassian laughed, "You're so dramatic."

"And you love it." She couldn't even begin to understand just how true those words were. "Now leave me alone before you're late to the party."

Nesta didn't give him the time to say goodbye that she'd hung up.

***

Slamming the door and closing himself shut in his precious, silent car, Cassian finally got to open his texts app and check what Nesta had sent him mere minutes before.

The date hadn't gone terribly, but Lidia was not his type. And he wasn't hers.

That had been starkly clear after the first fifteen minutes they'd spent talking about a new friend of hers, a certain Ruhn that she'd been crushing on for a while now.

He was her type. He and him only.

She had apologised, and Cassian had laughed, confessing that he had been forced into this date by his brothers, who were so over seeing him brooding because he was single and they were married and with kids.

Their words, not his.

Because in reality, Cassian was happy.

He was happy waiting for his friend to notice he was there for her, when she decided she was gonna have him.

He was happy splitting his time between his own apartment and Nesta's, whenever Logan requested his presence. Which nowadays bordered on always.

Exactly why he wasn't surprised when, opening his thread with Nesta, he found a video of the little girl, now almost one year and a half old.

A weak smile blossomed on his face as he clicked on it.

Nesta was lying on her side, her right arm under Little Lo's head and the baby was looking up at the ceiling, probably staring at the bioluminescent stars he had glued there.

He didn't press play immediately, because the picture of his best friend's half face was too distracting.

Nesta wasn't even fully in the frame, but Cassian wasn't seeing anything else. Her lips were tugged on a corner, a half smile there as she cuddled with her daughter. Her nose glimmered with moisturizing cream, something he knew she put on every night before bed. Her eyes were hidden, out of the picture.

He could have killed, if it meant the promise of tracing his finger down the nape of her perfect nose, to her lips and chin. Of caressing her jaw, holding her face in his hands.

He would have killed to taste those lips, even once.

Taking a deep breath and pretending he wasn't unsettled by the mere thought of touching Nesta, he pressed play and his heart clenched in his chest.

"Da-da, dada, da-da-da-da," Logan was simply calling out for him, basically whispering in the quiet room, brushing her fingers on her lips. "Dadadadada, dada."

His eyes stung lightly and his pinched the tip of his nose, reigning in his emotions.

The little girl turned to the phone once she noticed her mom was recording her and the smile she gave him ended him. Lo yawned in the most cute and tiny way on video and Cassian's stomach tightened to the point of pain.

He loved her.

She smacked the phone from Nesta's hand, calling for her dada once again and everything went black for a few seconds.

The moment colours and pictures came back up, it was Nesta's face smiling at him, now sitting with a writhing Lo saying his name over and over again.

Nesta tilted her head to the side, avoiding being smacked in the face by the baby, "I need you to come here asap. This little beast won't go to bed unless she hears her favourite uncle's lullaby."

Uncle.

The video ended with an otherworldly screech from Logan and Cassian turned off the screen, throwing the phone on the seat, a weird kind of sorrow pulling at his heart.

Uncle.

Nesta had this bad habit of calling him uncle whenever Logan insisted on calling him dada, or dad, or any other way that pointed to the girl thinking he was her father.

And he couldn't be mad. Fuck, he couldn't do shit about it if not accepting the fact that that was the truth.

Logan wasn't his daughter and the only reason they had stopped trying to make her call him anything but dada was because of the meltdowns she had whenever they did.

She was definitely too little still to understand what they were saying, but she rejected the idea anyway. It was like trying to take her favourite toy away.

Putting the car in reverse, he drove out of the parking spot and on the road, hoping Lo would still be awake once he got to their house.

He tried to keep his thoughts at bay as much as he could, failing miserably.

Cassian wanted in on their life. Cassian wanted to be part of it, every morning he wanted to wake up next to them and love them the way they deserved all day long and at night he wanted to hold them tightly to him and fall asleep again. And do it all over again the next day.

For the rest of his life.

He didn't have a single dream or goal that topped this one.

And he was so tired to pretend anything else was more important to him.

***

He cupped the chubby rosy cheek with his palm, passing his thumb over her eyebrow over and over again, watching the way her tiny, tiny lips moved in her sleep, as if she was latching. Logan's little body twitched in his arms, and Cassian repositioned, hoping not to disturb her too much.

Her minuscule hand clutched his shirt and she rubbed her face in the niche of his elbow.

He lowered just enough to place a kiss on her forehead and the small sigh she released did something to him.

He was so focused on memorizing every little detail on her baby face—knowing perfectly well how fast she was growing—that he hadn't noticed Nesta standing just outside the nursery door.

"I'm happy she has you," she whispered.

Cassian didn't look up from Logan, too afraid of his own feelings, which were riding rampant in his mind tonight.

"I'm glad she..." Nesta paused, drew a deep breath and stepped inside. She sat next to him on the fluffy couch and pulled her legs up to her chest.

He hoped she didn't feel him tense when she leaned against him, her head on his shoulder as she put her hand on Logan's belly.

"I'm glad she can count on somebody else. That is not me."

Cassian paused his face massage, sliding his hand under Logan's head and moving so her neck wasn't straining. He fixed his gaze on the floor, not daring moving a muscle.

"Sometimes I think I'm fucking everything up by not actively looking for someone that would step up as her dad, but–"

Nesta moved again, pressing closer to him, moving her hand from Lo to his arm. He knew that if he looked at her, even if he just turned her way, he would kiss her.

When she spoke again, her voice was trembling slightly and Cassian's heart was threatening beating out of his chest.

"What I'm trying to say is, thank you. For being here for her."

He stayed silent, not knowing what to say. He just resumed tracing lines on Lo's cheekbones, something that never failed to soothe her before bed and that knocked her out almost immediately.

It was a long time before he found the courage to talk.

"Nesta, I–"

Or maybe not.

What if he fucked everything up?

What if he was reading her wrong, and all of this was just in his head?

"Yes, Cassian?" She whispered.

He took a shaking breath, closing his eyes, and said, "I don't wanna be her uncle."

The words were out now. And he couldn't seem to be able to stop them.

"And I don't want you to text me during a date that you can't get her to sleep because she needs me to sing to her. I don't wanna have to drive all the way down here every other day because you might need something from me. And it's frustrating when I'm at home and I wanna eat something, just to remember that I bought it for your place and not mine. And don't even get me started on my clothes. Half of my wardrobe is in this house, as far as I know."

Nesta retracted from him so fast that his head whipped her way. He missed her warmth on the spot.

She was looking at him like she'd hit her. Her brow was furrowed and her eyes were shiny, watering with unshed tears.

His throat closed, "Nes, what–"

"I'm sorry we're such a fucking problem to you," she hissed, doing a piss poor job at hiding the hurt.

Cassian's eyes widened with horror, "Problem? What are you talking about?"

She didn't give any sign she'd heard him, "If it's such a pain in your ass driving here just to make her happy, then don't. I annoy you with my texts, I'll stop texting, no big deal." She was heaving now, emotion and exhaustion from a long day taking over. "And you can get your food and your clothes and get the fuck out of here and never come back for all I care. But you could've told me sooner that we were such a bother to you, I'd have kept her from getting so attached."

Cassian was moving before he knew what he was doing.

One second he was on one side of the couch, looking baffled and confused for all the shit that she was spitting at him, the next he was on her, Logan's body close to his chest as he lunged for Nesta's lips.

He moved his hand to her hair, sliding his fingers to the back of her neck, pushing her towards him. He closed his eyes, savouring the plush touch of her mouth on his for the first time.

Taking in everything she was giving him.

Nesta didn't react immediately, but as soon as she realized what was happening she melted into the kiss, backing away slightly before going back for more.

Her hands went to his face, cradling his neck and bringing him impossibly closer to her, as much as she could without hurting her daughter, and Cassian soared.

They both lost track of time before they stopped, never going far. Nesta pushed her forehead against his, brushing her nose sweetly to his.

"Explain," she breathed out.

He chuckled, stunned, "I want her to call me dad, dada, daddy, whatever she prefers. I wanna be there for her, I'm happy to be there for her." He started, leaving a kiss on her lips.

Nesta turned her head sideways, keeping the contact with him, "Focus."

"I hate driving up here every day because I wish I didn't have to go back to my house. It's just another reminder that I'm a guest, someone that is temporarily here.

"I forget I bought food and brought it here because I eat basically all of my meals with you girls, and I want the entirety of my wardrobe to be in this home. I hate going back there. It's lonely. And I want to be here. All the time.

"I want this to be my permanent home. I want you to be my permanent home."

Nesta was keeping her eyes closed, but a tear was running down her cheek. He swiped it away with a thumb, and then passed his fingertip to her lips.

"Cassian," she said.

He kissed her again, a slow, full-of-love peck on her lips.

He inhaled, "I love you, Nesta, and there's literally no other place I'd rather be, than here with you and Logan."

She opened her eyes then and let him in, at last. She let him see the love there, the wanting and longing that had been eating at them both for years.

But they were done running.

"It's always been you," she said, running a soft hand down his cheek.

Cassian nodded, nuzzling her palm, "It's always been you."

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#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #nesta has a kid cause you all know I clearly have issues with kids fics #domestic fluff #slight angst very slight compared to my usual