all the love you want to give with nowhere to go

Hays - 24 - Canada - she/they - sometimes a writer, mostly a fandom blog, unashmed spam liker, minors DNI

[thebitchchronicles]

The Bitch Chronicles Masterlist

A Knight of The Seven Kingdoms

Multiple/Preferences:

Skin Picking - How the men of AKOTSK would react to a partner that picks at their skin all the time

The Reasons For Your Tears - Why you'd find yourself crying during your relationship to the men of AKOTSK

The Love Language of Gifting - How the men of AKOTSK react to receiving gifts from their partner

Figure Skating Modern AU Jealous!Aerion x Reader/Dunk x Reader - blurby drabble thing, Aerion is reader's skating partner and does not treat them well, Dunk is a hockey player who is kind, Aerion is jealous

Ser Duncan The Tall:

The Moon Sickness - Ser Duncan x companion!Reader, reader wakes up to their period and tries to hide it from Dunk. Fluff, comfort, mutual pining

Supper - 18+ Ser Duncan x companion!Reader, in which you discover Dunk is ticklish and it leads to new experiences. Fluff & Smut

Aerion Targaryen:

This is Love - 18+ Aerion Targaryen x Reader, a story told in snippets from betrothal to Aerion's exile in Lys, inspired by the song This Is Love by Air Traffic controllers. Angst, Smut, DubCon, mature themes, violence, pregnancy.

Requests are open

Willing to write for:

AKOTSK:

Ser Duncan, Aerion, Baelor, Maekar, Valarr, Daeron, Raymun, Lyonel

GOT/ASOIAF:

Jon Snow, Theon Greyjoy, Ramsay Bolton, Tyrion Lannister, Brienne of Tarth, Podrick Payne, Daenerys Targaryen, Tywin Lannister

AVATAR:

Jake Sully, Neytiri, Miles Quaritch, Varang

BRIDGERTON:

Francesca, Penelope, Benedict, Anthony, Colin, Posy Li, Sophie, Violet, Queen Charlotte

If you would like to request a character you don't see, please feel free to send me an ask. If I feel comfortable writing for them I will definitely try, otherwise I will respectfully decline.

[genderfluid-and-confuzled]

thought one: yummy yummy

thought two: orange juice in my tummy

[maekarsmistress]

aerion targ x reader where reader has a crush on him but is lowkey terrified of him. (they're married.)

THAT BOY IS CORRUPT.

apparently every young lady in the realm dreams to marry a targaryen prince; though. aerion targaryen is an exception to all those dreams - until you. CW: MDNI, 18+ slight sexual references, aerion himself is a warning, fluff ig, mean!aerion, he loves you i promise, freaky ahh reader, i couldnt stop writing i apologise, pregnancy, children, one slight mention of beating (a rumor, not actually done.) i'm a lil rusty when it comes to akotsk content, sorry :-(

This marriage to Prince Aerion Targaryen was unlike what you had hoped. It was humiliation given form, and he was mediocrity in shape of a human. Other ladies are granted knights who smile without it meaning certain cruelty ahead, who win tourneys for their wives instead of winning it to release some maddening anger onto unsuspecting victims. Other ladies are given handsome men, or even a nicer prince belonging to an even nicer family. You are given Aerion instead.

You pay the price every day for being unwillingly arranged to marry such a foul creature, whispers follow you into every corridor, suggesting your marriage to be an ambition too big or a desperation that was too extreme – you did not quite know which to believe. The early days of the marriage were peaceful, distant, Aerion was present, yes, but rarely reachable; when he spoke to you, it felt less like a conversation and more like being taught something. You learnt quickly that bringing any form of weakness or performance to the table greatly annoyed him, unless it was within the confines of your chambers - which then it greatly amused him. You began to notice certain things about your princely husband; His need for precision and control - the need for control unsettled you most, because it implied he has restraint rather than an absence of violence. It was perhaps around the yearly anniversary of your grand royal wedding that you realised you did not quite loathe him like others did, sure, he terrified you in ways you couldn’t speak of; but there was something that developed within you in spite of logic, not because of it. You began to watch him in ways that feel shameful; Whilst he is sweaty and panting heavily during training, or when his hands swipe through the pages of a book with an adeptness unknown to man, or even watching him in his Valyrian lessons that he certainly doesn't need, but watching the way he rolls his tongue when he's speaking was worth putting up with his nasty attitude. Its not just that; the sound of his booming laughter in your dining hall, the shift in the atmosphere when he enters, or the slight smile he gives you when you stoke the fire that is his ego. It makes your heart pick up and beat, like a lion beating against its cage. You try to contain yourself, saying that its curiosity, duty perhaps? But you can’t fool him, its attraction heightened by the slight feeling of fear that excites you. Its that attraction and fear formed by the proximity of your marriage – yes, you being married to him makes avoiding him entirely impossible. Your marriage started to settle during the end of the following year of it starting, it began to become more of a routine rather than an oddity; it was definitely not comfortable, but it was familiar. It was a surprise to most ladies and whispering at court that instead of distancing himself from you, Aerion embraced you as his wife – He had come to embrace you, and the stability of that was wonderful of course, but then came the pressure of something completely unknown. Children. Your own ladies-in-waiting hounded you into a barrage of questions; When is a babe going to join us? Are you two going to grace the court with a new targaryen prince? Lets pray to the gods that any babe looks like him, but have your nature, my dear!

Aerion did not care for gossiping ladies and snide comments from their lord husbands; but he did notice how it affected you. How late at night you would invite him to your chambers more, and would not let him leave unless the act was done. He knew that comments like that might have hurt his precious lady-wife more than she showed; so he invited you to more formal dinners, showing you off on his arm as he kept you close during social affairs. He ensured you were not over-exerting yourself during travel or your courtly obligations. It was sweet of him, truly, and it was almost tender. But this was surely his need for control over the situation leaking into the domesticity of your marriage; until one night, he rejects your invitation to your chamber and instead insists you come to his. Which you do, begrudgingly. You find him sitting at the edge of his bed, waiting up for you. You take in his dishevelled appearance, how the scars on his face seem to only show up during the knight, embroidered in candlelight. The conversation that follows is not remotely romantic, but entirely intimate in its nature; he expresses finally his desire for a child, an heir – you note the way he softly looks up at you after saying the word ‘child’ and the way his face tightened as he hurriedly fixed it with the word ‘heir’. It caused you to stutter slightly as you stepped forward, his legs spreading slightly to let you settle inbetween them. Your hand met his cheek, softly cupping him as you brushed the platinum locks away from his eyes. It is the first time your marriage stops being defined by your mixed feelings of fear and world-shattering attraction and starts being defined by the act of continuing, expanding and separating entirely. You agree with him, as you lean down and kiss him; it is entirely romantic, which should be enough to shake him out of the softness he holds for you, he should just throw you on the bed and take you, should order you to not leave this room until it takes. But he accepts your kiss, and leans back onto the bed, accepting your soft touch and even gentler eyes for the night. Whispers at court still trailed after you, they brought tales of him abandoning you for a tavern wench, or for a lady in your court; even whispers started that he beat you, stating that a babe would not thrive in such a hostile environment; to which Aerion stated that any man who beat his wife was no man at all, snarling at the weakness of the gossip. 

It was then you began to notice a change in him, it was like a switch however; he was softer with you, slights swallowed before being said, glares at anyone who dared touch, or even walk in your general area, you began to see him in a different light. And it was not long before you greeted him one late evening with the greatest news to reach his ears; a babe lay in your belly. It brought a sense of permanence to your marriage. The thought that a child, his child, would be brought into the world soon; a piece of him, a piece of you. It makes his green, rotten, distorted heart almost beat with a flurry of positive emotions. He almost became soft, he was still wickedly mean at court and during training, but in your shared chambers his need for approval lessened into a need for you. When you told him, it did not take him long to understand what you meant, there was no confusion in him, no need for repetition or clarification. He only looked at you for a moment longer than usual; then he moved toward you.

He crossed the space between you but there was something different in the way his hands came to you. When he pulled you into him, it was firm, almost careful, as though he was suddenly aware of how fragile you were to become. You had seen him hold swords, reins, goblets, all with the same steadiness, but this was not the same kind of grip. It lingered longer than necessary, and when he spoke, it was low enough that it felt meant only for you.

He repeated it once, as if confirming it out loud made it real in a way silence could not manage. A child, ours.

His hand settled at your side after that, not moving much, just staying there, like he needed the contact to make sense of what had been said; he stayed close, looking at you in a way that felt unusually direct, as though something in him had stopped trying to maintain distance for the first time since you had known him.

There were no more words for a while, whatever he was thinking stayed contained behind his expression, but it was not empty. If anything, it was more focused than usual.

The court thankfully did not see the shift that followed immediately, it remained private, contained within your chambers and the spaces where only the two of you existed without peering eyes and an audience, time moved forward and there were changes in how you were attended to, how often he was present without being summoned, how certain decisions were made without discussion but with clear mutual understanding. 

When the time came, the world outside your chamber became irrelevant by necessity rather than choice. 

Eventually, there was a child; The babe came into the world small and alive with a force that was obviously inherited from their father, along with his looks; Silver hair, pale and unmistakable, eyes that carried the deep violet of old Valyrian blood. The sound of them was immediate, a sharp cry swiftly becoming dull and quiet.

Aerion did not speak at first; he remained where he was, as though movement might interrupt his child’s atmosphere; his attention stayed fixed, not shifting away even once, and when he finally stepped closer, it was without urgency. He looked at the child, then at you, and for a moment there was nothing else in the room that mattered.

[hereliesangelicbambii]

Summerboy ⋆｡𖦹°‧𓇼

ʀᴏʙᴇʀᴛ ᴄʜᴀꜱᴇ x ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (NSFW)

Summary:

ᴛᴏ ʙᴏᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴜʀᴘʀɪꜱᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅɪꜱᴍᴀʏ, ᴀ ʙʀᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴡ ᴊᴏʙ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪᴀɢɴᴏꜱᴛɪᴄꜱ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇᴛᴏɴ–ᴘʟᴀɪɴꜱʙᴏʀᴏ ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜɪɴɢ ʜᴏꜱᴘɪᴛᴀʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʟᴏɴɢꜱɪᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇx-ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ-ꜰʟɪɴɢ, ʀᴏʙᴇʀᴛ ᴄʜᴀꜱᴇ. ɪɴᴇᴠɪᴛᴀʙʟʏ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪʀ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴜᴛᴛ ʜᴇᴀᴅꜱ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀᴛᴇ ʜᴀᴛʀᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ᴜꜱᴇᴅ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴇʟꜱᴇ.

“What the actual fuck is your problem?” You exclaimed, as the door swung shut behind Foreman, the last of your colleagues to leave the room, leaving just you and your workplace enemy, Robert Chase.

You were at your limit from every condescending stare, every attempt to undermine you in front of House, and every cold shoulder. So when you were left alone with your ex summer lover, you completely blew up.

“What’s my problem? You could’ve gotten this woman killed, it’s not bacterial meningitis and you know it. You’re just trying to spin some bullshit out-of-the-box idea to impress House and it’s not working.” Chase erupted into his usual barrage of combativeness, hands firm on his hips as he aimed you in the crosshairs of his intense icy stare.

“I’m not talking about the patient, this obviously isn’t about the patient!” You yelled back, feeling a heat rise in your cheeks. Chase paused for a moment, you could almost see the cogs turning in his head, formulating his counter-argument.

“What is this about then?” He replied in a more controlled, yet still strong, tone.

You were breathing heavily quite visibly and it was a tad embarrassing, so you took a moment to collect yourself before making your case.

“I broke things off with you ages ago and you’re still mad, because no girl in your life has ever said no to you. I was the first, and I did it for a reason, but something in your head just can’t accept it.” You felt wetness rise in your eyes, but you bit it back harshly, simultaneously pushing back vivid flashbacks of days spent in the hot sun, sweaty bodies colliding, gorgeous blonde locks and entrancing blue eyes. You remember the quiet moments tenderly too, sitting together, hands mingling with fondness but no feral desperation. Your calm talks, he had told you about his parents, and you had told him about yours too. There was a time where you understood Robert Chase more than anybody, but that moment came and went.

To your suprise, Chase had been stood, eyes to the ground, in complete silence. There was no snarky comment or mean spirited personal jab, there was barely even a breath. All of sudden, he looked up at you, with a foreign, unfamiliar expression. “I loved you.”

The silence that followed was thick and painful, yet broken by the stomps of Chase storming out of the room. Perhaps you had been too harsh, you stopped to consider, the thought eradicated by the shrill beeps of your pager sounding, shocking you back to reality.

The only person who picked up that something was wrong was Foreman, for the rest of the day, he would make puzzled faces between you and Chase whenever you were in the same room. Chase was cold and closed off, barely participating in diagnostic debates and giving stale robotic replies when asked to run tests. It was as if your comment was as sharp as a needle, and had pricked him and made all his passion run out like helium out of a punctured balloon.

Guilt twisted in your gut, at about 10.40 in the evening, you sat on your couch biting your lip, staring absent-mindedly at the tv without processing a single frame. It was a shame that things ended with Chase the way they did, he was a passionate lover, the type of passion that makes you want to go skinny dipping at a public beach at midnight and make love in the sand. You knew this because these were the types of things you and Chase would do on your off-days, back when you worked at your old clinic. Shifts were short and mundane and days off and evenings after were spent carefree, however once you decided to move to a new apartment and apply at Princeton, life got serious. You had to pick up more shifts to make ends meet and avoidance to admit what was happening soon, in fear of ruining the fantasy was the reason why your fleeting summer romance had to be called off. Yet in such a period of new beginnings, on your first day at the hospital, your ghost from the past came to haunt you. The way he acts around you and towards you is like a tortured spirit, constantly resentful, almost unjustifiably, it was about time that you-

Knock knock

You freeze.

Knock knock. Small knock..

You swing your door open to see your ghost stood there in living flesh, his face was blank by force of his muscles but his features were a dead giveaway of his true condition. Reddened watery eyes and rosy cheeks, with the tip of his small perfect nose blushed deep pink.

“Rob-“ You begin, soon to be cut off by a quieter, croaky voice.

“Can I come in?”

Immediately feeling bad for letting him stand in the late winter chill for so long, you make way for him to enter, and he does, almost bashfully, looking away as he instinctively kicks his shoes off and walks towards your couch. Clasping his hands together and fidgeting with his fingers, he keeps his eyes down, as you come over and quickly turn off the tv, you see right through his attempt to look assured and in control, and see something alike a wounded puppy.

“Rob, what’s the matter.” You sit down and instinctively place a hand on the back of his shoulder, and once you regret that action and pull back in fear of coming on too strong, he turns to you, teary eyes now even clearer in the light of your standing lamp.

“I- uh.. I came here because I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said earlier, today.”

As you inhale sharply to begin to explain yourself, with your guilt becoming the puppet master of your mouth, he stops you to talk once more.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to apologise for anything, I understand now. You ended things with me because you were in love with me and i was distracting you from your work, and the exact same is happening now.” He reaches up to grasp your cheek, leaving your mouth agape, looking for words at his bold statement.

However, not meaning to kick a man when he’s down, you allow Chase to comfort himself with his favourite activity, letting the sound of his own voice lull him into believing that he’s always right.

“Before, I was too reckless and spontaneous, but now, I’m completely devoted to you and I can give you whatever you want, whatever you need.”

You almost need to pinch yourself to believe that this is the same man who yelled across the room at you this morning, the same man who gave you glares everyday, as if exactly 100 of them was the secret spell that would make you die on the spot.

Whilst you stared at him with wide, frozen eyes, he shuffled closer and visibly undressed you with his eyes, which made you flush in shame when you realised you were in pyjama shorts and a tight tee with no bra underneath. He lowered a hand to stroke your thigh, thumb fondling the leg of your shorts, before looking up at you with his gorgeous, baby blue eyes,

“You’ve gotta give me another chance baby, i can make you happy better than I ever could last time.”

You look to your knees and nip at your bottom lip, mulling over your choices in the matter.

“You did make me very happy last time Robert I just-“

“Shh sh sh.”

He pulls your cheek toward his face and encapsulates you in a deep, hungry kiss, forcing his tounge deep into your mouth- and you let him. Then, your senses take the wheel and you pull back.

“Rob, it’s different now, we work together.” You search for any crumb of reason in his eyes, but they’re overtaken by a type of hunger you’ve never seen in a man before.

“I won’t tell if you don’t princess.” He gives you that panty-dropping boyish smirk that makes colour show in your cheeks, assisted by that sweet little nickname that brought you right back to that one time at the beach, and that other time in the bar bathroom.

Taking the cue of your visual reaction, he reaches a hand grope your right breast while enveloping you into another kiss, this one is slower, more calculated, the ‘let’s see if she pulls back’ mindset has seemingly gone, and now he’s soaking in your essence through the sweetness of your lips.

You reach around to tug on the back of his hair, you know he likes that because when he flattens his body against yours to depend the kiss, something else flattens against you too. He lets the hand that’s not on the back of your head travel down past the waistband of your shorts and explore your dripping core.

“Fuck, baby you’re so wet.” He pulls only his mouth away to talk, but presses his forehead against yours as he speaks so you can feel his hot breath panting against your face.

He begins to rub your clit mercilessly, sloppily manhandling your with 4 fingers rubbing you in all directions, you begin to rock back and forth to grind against his hand.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you.” His breathing is erratic as he growls into your ear.

“Rob, fuck me, please.” You whine, finally surrendering to Robert’s efforts to make you fold.

He pulls away, and it concerns you for a moment, before you see him frantically taking his shirt off and helping you take of yours, he then disposes of your shorts and underwear briskly, leaving you bare on your couch and him in only his slacks. You reach out a hand to rub his hard cock through the fabric, but he grabs your wrist and pins both of them to the arm of the couch. Chase didn’t have a spectacularly big dick, but the way he used it could paralyse someone- and even they would be bragging about the experience. He plucked a cushion and placed it under your hips to prop you up, his free hand gently massaging your folds.

“I love you, baby.” He leaned down to kiss you as he worked on undoing his belt.

Disturbed by your own silent pause, you mumbled a little “Mmlove you too” to fill the gap.

As his cock sprung from his pants, an angry shade of rose with a long web-like thread connected to his boxers, he procured a condom which had been so conveniently right in his pocket, and worked it down his length.

“Im gunna fill that beautiful wet cunt like it’s never been filled before, are you ready princess?” He locked eyes with you intensely, in a way that made your hole clench around nothing, as you felt his tip graze your folds.

You whine and nod, not being able to take the teasing anymore and when he finally presses his cock deep into you, you both groan in unison. As you fumble to grab onto the arm of the couch for some stability, he thrusts in and out of you at an overwhelming speed, like a crazed bunny. But not only are his strokes fast, they hit deep, like a machine gun to the g spot. The room fills with the lewd sounds of your sweaty skin slapping and Robert’s husky groans of “Good girlll.” He grabs one of your legs and pushes it as far back as it can go, allow his assault on your hole to hit even deeper than before. The noises you alone were making were humiliating for you, but you knew it was the reason Rob’s face was so red and his breathing was becoming more and more unstable by the second.

He leant forward and groaned into your ear “I’m so close baby.” And as he raced to his orgasm, he pushed you over the edge completely, sending you to a level of total eye-rolling, toe-curling ecstasy.. and then crashing you back down to earth as two heaving, sweating messes on top of each other.

You cuddled nude for a while, it had been a while since you had been close with someone in this way, and you suspected this was also the case for Rob. As you both took a moment to gaze into each others eyes, the silence was broken all of a sudden by,

“Would you like to be my girlfriend?”

You erupted into a fit of giggles, oh Chase, oh arrogant, bold, cocky Chase.

“Absolutely not.”

Author’s notes:

Your toxic, obnoxious poll winner, Robert Chase everybody 😋 but seriously thank you everyone for voting even if only 14/95 of you interacted with the post aside from that 🙃 check out how to join the taglist for my Dr Wilson series here !

[4ft3rh0urs]

★ ⋆Pocket-Sized⋆ ★

Robert Chase x Fem!Reader

word count: 1.4k summary: You encounter a kangaroo plushie while on your strolls and inevitably think about Chase. a/n: First fanfic in the fandom! Had this idea for a while tbh. warnings: fluff

The first time you saw it was during your usual evening walk around the neighborhood. 

It was a cold winter afternoon. Your oversized Bernese Teo pulled on his leash as he ushered you towards your building, excited to reach the comfort of your warm living room when you walked past it. There, in the middle of a children's store display, was a cute small kangaroo plushie with round eyes and a stupidly chubby belly. 

You stared at it for a moment, smiling slightly at the cute plushie before walking by and back home. 

The second time you saw it was after your shift at Princeton-Plainsboro. 

You decided to take another route back home, exhausted and wanting to get there early. It had been a particularly rough evening, since the patient’s condition had worsened drastically without logical reasoning and the whole team was now going nuts trying to stabilize their condition.

It wouldn't be a lie to say you were used to things not going your way, and you knew that if the patient had to die, you couldn't do anything to stop it, but it still felt like a knife to your heart when the patient's condition took a turn to worse and everything you did was useless.

This time, when you walked past the toy store you paused. The small kangaroo was still there, staring back at you with its stupid beaded eyes. You walked towards it and smiled, seeing how one eye was slightly higher than the other, and how the fur seemed soft.

You couldn't help being reminded of your teammate Chase, the charming, witty and stupidly handsome Aussie who had captured your heart as soon as you stepped into the glass office that House’s diagnostics department was. 

It was stupid, you knew, but a part of you kinda wanted to buy it and subtly gift it to him, or just drop it off anonymously on his desk one morning just to see his reaction. Would he smile? Or even laugh? Gosh you couldn't help but imagine his stupidly handsome face as he laughed-

A loud thud brought you back to your senses as the owner of the store closed the iron gate that protected the front door and loudly closed the lock, walking away without a word. You shot one last glance at the silly kangaroo before reluctantly walking home.

The third time you saw it you were chatting with Cameron.

You two had bonded quite a bit, being the only two girls of a team of pompous men. It was early afternoon, and the two of you were heading to your place after having lunch at the new lovely salad place Cameron had suggested.

This time, it was actually her who spotted it.

“Hey, have you seen that kangaroo plushie?” she comments, ignoring your rambling about your dog. You stop and look at it again, pretty much having memorized its appearance by now.

“Yeah I have, a few times actually. I walk by here often,” you reply, humming as a mother walks into the store with their hyperactive child. “Why? You want it?”

“I just thought its cute.” She shrugs with a pause. “You know what would be funny? Giving it to Chase.”

You stop walking, looking at her with wide eyes. Has she read your mind? Or was it just just something anyone would do? You choose to hide your shock slightly, but your cheeks still turn rosy.

“That's dumb.” You lie unconvincingly, turning your head away so that she doesn't see the blush, but it was too late, the smug smile was now plastered on her face. 

“Uh huh. Right. Whatever you say, Miss crush”

“I do not have a crush!” You spit back, glancing at the plush before chasing after her as she practically jogged away chuckling. 

The fourth time you saw it you actually decided to buy it.

House was sick that day (surprising, I know), so you were able to slip away and clock out early. Determined and high on insomnia, you marched towards the store and walked in, but your biggest fears came true when you didn't see the plush.

You frantically searched around the toy store, thinking that some little kid had taken away your only chance to make yourself stand out to Chase, when you finally saw it. There, next to the register with a sign that said ‘Last Unit! 50% Discount!’, stood the wonky and lame plush kangaroo. You practically sprinted towards it, grabbing it with the same delicacy you'd grab a baby with, and slammed it in front of the old lady behind the register.

“Just this-” you pant, pulling out your wallet with haste. The lady just smiled and wrapped it carefully in gift paper and stuck an obnoxious golden bow on top, putting it inside the bag. After paying, you grabbed the bag as if it were the cure to cancer and practically rushed back home. 

You spent the rest of the afternoon thinking how you would approach him. Would you say hi and just give it? Maybe you could subtly drop it off at his desk? Whatever, tomorrow you'll see.

The next day, you woke up extra early. You got dressed nicely, your stomach in knots of anxiety and excitement, and you went to your kitchen to have breakfast, practically skipping of joy. It was rather ridiculous, to be feeling so giddy about something so dumb, but you couldn’t help it. You had planned to arrive extra early that day, so that you could casually drop it in his desk and act surprised if he asked if you knew who it was, but destiny had other plans.

Despite arriving over half an hour early to the office, Chase was already there, sat on his chair with a pencil in his mouth, a sudoku in one hand and the other hand in his hair. You froze at the door, not expecting to see him yet, and even less with the gift bag in hand. Sensing your presence, he looked up and spotted you in the door

”Morning,” he smiled, raising his brow in curiosity. “What's that?” He sets down the sudoku and puts the pencil beside it. You blink twice, internally debating whether to flee or actually give it to him. Remembering the hassle it was to obtain, you decided the latter.

”It’s for you.” You smile back sweetly, trying to hide how you’re absolutely petrified.

”Okay..?” He stands hesitantly, walking over and taking the bag. He takes out the wrapped object and unwrapped it, revealing the very stupid looking small kangaroo.He does that soft blink he always does when he’s caught off-guard, like his brain just short circuited for a second. Then he smiles—that tiny, shy, slightly tilted Chase smile that looks like it escaped by accident.

”You got me a joey?” He looks up at you, looking more amused than unimpressed. “It’s because I’m Australian, right? Very original.”

”I saw it on my way home, and thought it looked like you.” You look at him with fake confidence, trying to hide how mortified, but the rosy tint of your cheeks gave you away.

”It’s deformed.” He matter-of-factly says

”It gives it charm.” You spit back

”It’s tiny.” He snorts

”It’s a baby!” You scoff, offended. “You know what? Give it back, you don’t deserve it anymore.” You reach out to grab it, but he stops you.

”Nu-uh! Mine.” He smiles nonchalantly, but his cheeks were also rosy. 

Your eyes narrow. “You said it was tiny and deformed.”

”I didn't say it was a bad thing!” He lifts it up to his face, looking at it up close and pinching its cheeks. He laughed at how one was rounder than the other. “It’s… pocket-sized, like you.”

You gasp, offended. “Oh that’s it, I’m taking it back-“ you lean over to grab it, your face accidentally getting a little too close to Chase’s. He takes the opportunity to press a kiss to your cheek before walking back to his chair and plopping down.

”Too bad, should’ve thought twice before giving it to me.” He grins smugly, as if he wasn’t blushing intensely now and as if he didn't know his kiss had made your brain short circuit. You opened your mouth to say something, but the rest walked in and both of you had to act like nothing had changed.

When in fact, everything had changed.

[wizardshark]

I admit I have enjoyed looking at boobies once or twice

[official-boob-posts]

perhaps a guilty pleasure

[parkchanwoohoo]

This whole series is so goddamn funny

[mellifexfarm]

live chicken reaction

[theehorsepusssy]

[starpeace]

i love pitting classically trained magic users against self-taught magic users in sci-fi/fantasy but it shouldn’t be snobbish disdain for them it should be terror

[starpeace]

“WHO TAUGHT YOU LIGHTNING BEFORE BASIC TELEKINESIS. LOSING MY MIND WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU JUST DID IT. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAST WITH YOUR BARE HANDS”

[elidyce]

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT YOU’VE ‘HACKED’ MANA DRAIN

WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘DRINK SOME JUICE’

WHAT IS ‘LOW BLOOD SUGAR’

WHY IS THIS WORKING

I HATE YOU SO MUCH

[superjustaguyblog]

Okay but other direction can ALSO be a lot of fun

“What do you mean I don’t have to burn half my blood to create a fireball?”

“Why can you teleport more than once without vomiting? WTF is ‘quantum displacement awareness’???”

“You know HOW many spells? HOW? ... What do you mean ‘my spell book’?”

“Ooooh, you’re just summoning water portions from the Plane of Water... Lol I thought I HAD to combine hydrogen and oxygen molecules to generate water in small amounts. That’s so much easier then what I was doing!”

[anachronistic-cat]

Tags via @mia7437

[worldheritagepostorganization]

World Heritage Post

[silkaurum]

Thinking about playing “no, you hang up first” with baelor is all fun bcs he’ll be so sweet on the other line meanwhile with maekar he’ll just “ok” and hangs up and leave you speechless for a whole minute………. Lol

hello, sweet anon ♡ .ᐟ i really hope i understood you correctly and that this is a request for headcanons. at the very least, it won't be redundant, will it? i'll also touch a bit on how they generally answer the reader's calls and messages.

i want to say that i really like how you described this difference between the brothers. one hundred percent accurate. thank you so much for the question! hope you enjoy this, mwah .ᐟ⸝⸝

❝NO, YOU HANG UP FIRST❞ | AKOTSK MEN

𝘃𝗮𝗹𝗮𝗿𝗿 𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗴𝗮𝗿𝘆𝗲𝗻

in short: he'll play along, but gets evasive when it concerns his image as a serious guy

Valarr answers your messages and calls with such astonishing speed, as if he's been waiting for them all along. He texts you when he's busy and work is suffocating him. "Busy, my love. I'll write later when I'm free. Have a good day." He keeps his headphones nearby, always ready to listen to your voice messages. He loves hearing your voice when it gets animated. Valarr can already picture your smile and the spark in your eyes. Valarr has said more than once that this quirk of yours, your "no, you hang up first," is something. He finds it rather endearing, not at all irritating. But awkwardness? Yes, this blue blooded man knows how to get embarrassed. He'll play along, mimicking you with "no, now you hang up, my love." But when there are witnesses to your conversation, completely unintentional ones, he gets flustered and starts babbling about his upcoming tasks, of which he always has plenty. When you meet, he'll ask you "you're not upset?" and "are you sure?" dozens of times. Valarr will do anything to make sure of it. You consider taking advantage of this, but then you see yourself on his phone's wallpaper, and your villainous plans just fade away on their own.

𝗱𝗮𝗲𝗿𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗴𝗮𝗿𝘆𝗲𝗻

in short: he would talk in his sleep just so he wouldn't have to be the last one to hang up

Daeron can talk nonstop. Sometimes he's not much different from Egg. He'll ask you strange, silly questions in between serious things. "Hey, where do you keep your milk? In the fridge door or at the back of the fridge?" You can hear him pouring cereal into a bowl. "Milk first, then cereal, or the other way around?" He'll tell you everything he's doing, absolutely everything. He masterfully jumps from topic to topic. Even when you're saying goodbye, he'll suddenly remember something he's wanted to say for ages. Daeron might call you without even lifting his head from the pillow. Need I mention that he always sends you messy drunk texts and makes calls just to say he's glad you're his girlfriend? Daeron is the one who, after your "bye," will say with puppy-like intonation, "you hang up first." He'll argue with such persistence, as if there's a prize for it. You can clearly hear in his voice that he finds it both amusing and sweet. After a fair amount of time, Daeron will finally say gently, "Okay, okay, you win, as always, thief of my heart. I am simply weak before you. So I surrender."

𝗮𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗴𝗮𝗿𝘆𝗲𝗻

in short: no games with him. well, okay, sometimes

Aerion likes to maintain the illusion that he's incredibly busy. "Baby, I'm busy." He's busy scrolling through his Instagram feed. He'll reply later, when he deems it appropriate. Sometimes he'll just leave a reaction. He'll never admit it, but he really likes it when you send "good morning" and "good night." It makes him feel needed? Aerion saves every photo you send in your chat, even the silliest ones. That's the real you. He'll grumble about you taking an unflattering picture of him, but his lips still twitch into a smile every time. "You hang up first? What are we, children?" He'll protest excessively. Playfully arguing with his loved one about who should end the call first isn't very cool for a guy like Aerion. But sometimes… it seems when he's in a tender mood, he'll argue with you. This happens when you're sleeping apart due to circumstances and you both miss each other. The night strips away masks, leaving raw honesty behind. The kind that isn't cool, but is true. He wants to go to sleep, his voice hoarse because of it, but he promises you'll be the first to give in, and then he'll definitely say you're both being ridiculous.

𝗯𝗮𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗴𝗮𝗿𝘆𝗲𝗻

in short: he's such a sweetheart. he'll interject with his "no, you" like a lovestruck teenager

Baelor is the one who likes every single one of your posts, every photo, everything you put on social media. He might look a bit like your number one fan. Looks like? He is one! He wants to support you in every way. This isn't performative love so everyone can see how happy you are. He doesn't reply immediately, but as soon as he frees up. He just needs to switch his focus from work to you. That's why his messages are never dry. Baelor might send a text that just says "swamped" along with a photo of his mock-sad face. He always says "I love you" when he hangs up. Once, Baelor's secretary caught him in the most amusing situation. His chair was turned towards the window, and he didn't hear her come in. He was talking to you, and you had been arguing for five minutes about who should hang up, occasionally interrupting yourselves to decide what to have for dinner. Here he was, a grown man with the widest smile, saying "no, you hang up first," even though he had just told his employee that he was very busy with a very important business call. She mercifully pretended she had never set foot in the boss's office. And the two of you settled on caponata for dinner.

𝗹𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗹 𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗼𝗻

in short: he'll call you a fool, not maliciously, and then tease you about it, but he's happy that you see the two of you as sixteen year old idiots

Lyonel obviously loves to chat, but not on the phone. He usually saves all his entertaining stories and jokes for in-person meetings. Just let him feel like the best comedian for a bit. Strangely enough, over the phone, he talks as if it's business. Everything is clear and fast. Though he'll then throw in an affectionate pet name and express his regret that he can't tie you to him so you'd always be by his side. He even reads a physical newspaper. You jokingly call him grandpa, and he looks at you over his glasses and mimics you, saying you'll regret your words. His habit of talking on the phone while driving at considerable speeds drives you crazy. He shouts into the speaker and asks you to speak louder. Louder, when he's flying like the wind? First, he laughed heartily at your phone teasing, then he mimicked you back, putting on a sweet girly voice. You rightly called him a child. He rightly said that at least you're both having fun. Then he demanded you meet up as soon as possible. "I need to hold your hand, my darling." You thought he was a sarcastic fool, but you still ended up sitting in the park, drinking coffee, innocently holding hands.

𝗱𝘂𝗻𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗹

in short: gently involved in everything. everything that concerns you

Duncan is the one who replies always, no matter the circumstances. He already feels awkward in your kitchen, dough sticking to his hands. He was trying to bake cookies but got distracted when a message from you came through on his phone. His screen is sticky, smudged, and smells of cinnamon, but he still managed to unlock it. Duncan holds the phone to his ear, trapped between his shoulder and his head, still messing with the baking. "Is it important, dear?" Even if it isn't, he will listen to you for as long as it takes. He can turn into your personal therapist, deftly inserting supportive comments throughout your entire speech. Duncan humbly says he doesn't have a way with words like you do, but he knows how to listen. He is, without a doubt, always ready to lose and be the first one to hang up. There is nothing he wouldn't do for his lady. He'll argue with you sweetly, his voice warm like July air. But as soon as he catches a commanding note in your voice, he'll say jokingly, "If my queen wishes me to do so, who am I to resist?" The last thing you hear before he says a gentle "bye" is him giggling softly.

𝗺𝗮𝗲𝗸𝗮𝗿 𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗴𝗮𝗿𝘆𝗲𝗻

in short: no. this just isn't for him. sorry. actually, not sorry

Maekar is a person who manages his time efficiently, or so he believes. He loves the "do not disturb" function on his phone. Muting excess noise that gets in the way of work. Rational, as he loves to preach. He texts you sparingly, and the same goes for calls. Everything has its purpose, and he expects certain results. Calling his children during his lunch break (each of his kids), he wants to hear "everything is fine, father, no problems." That certainly won't satisfy his peace of mind, as his children have no concept of "no problems." For Maekar, calls are most often associated with problems. His already stern-looking face looks uninviting, but when he hears his phone ring... his shoulders slump, as if someone is pressing down on them with malicious force. He'd rather listen to everything you have for him in person. Two hours? Fine, then he'll listen to you, sipping wine in your kitchen. "No, you hang up first?" What nonsense? That's his first and most honest thought. He'll be silent for a while, weighing his options, then decide he's gone crazy with you for even considering participating in this idiocy. Maekar hangs up the call. That's what you wanted, isn't it?

dividers by: @bronzewasp @strangergraphics

[violained]

rilkean heart

summary dunk cares for you very much, he accidentally confesses it!

content gn!reader, shy!duncan, dunk is crushing very hard, reader travels with dunk, soft friends to lovers drabble <3 use of my heart as a term of endearment! one sweet kiss <3

masterlist ♡

Dunk thinks you look lovely. Beneath the dim light of evenfall, skin aglow as you brush your mare and soothe her coarse coat with a gentle hand. Shining pearls nestled within your eyes, you turn to look for the sound of his steps. He's aflutter.

A knight isn't meant to feel so weak.

"Why," you breathe as he comes to stand before you. "You've dirt all over, Dunk."

"I'll take myself to the lake," he says, quiet.

You tilt your head and smile, he tilts his. Pretty, he thinks again, in face and in spirit. The fairest from any angle. A final shaft of melting amber sunset kisses sweetly at your brow and nose.

He'd like to bestow kisses there, too.

"No need," you hum. "Closer, please."

His legs move without command, and he leans down to set your eyes to his when you reach for him. You bring your thumb quick to your mouth to dampen the pad, he doesn't protest. Just lets you begin smoothing away the rusty soil without any sound.

"Such a mess," you scold ruefully.

Dunk is sure he appears stupidly foolish. Gawking at you with wide, pale blue eyes, lashes blonde and darkening as the last remnants of light feather out from the sky. Staring as if you'll brighten everything anew.

"Aye, but you look after me well," he replies, and his words earn your gaze on his.

"I'm happy to," you tell.

The cool air billows heat suddenly, and his skin is overtaken by pins and needles, surely blooming rose pink.

He allows himself a subtle nudge into your touch, entirely futile to combat. The feel of your thumb sweeping over his cheek sends something soft to the pit of his chest, it settles like honeyed snow and makes him nearly sway on his boots.

"You are my heart," he confesses, and curses himself seven whole times for blurting such a festering, vulnerable admittance.

You blink owlishly and pull your fingers away.

"I am not."

A deep pang rings through his body.

"You are," he insists, and takes your hand in his engulfing hold, and places the flat of your palm atop his chest where the organ beats, crimson and a little too fast. "I swear it, upon my honor."

Again, you blink, and he doesn't know what to do. Your horse rumbles a low sigh from behind your back.

"Have I grown a second head?" He asks.

His throat works with a nervous swallow.

But your expression relaxes, mellowing into fondness, and a blossoming grin unfurls. He's golden everywhere at once. Your hands take his face a final time, between both palms. Delicate as petals of marigold.

"That is very sweet," you giggle. "I'd like to be your heart."

Words are of no use to him, gone completely. He nods feverish and holds at your waist with such vast reverence, keeping himself steady and close. His nose nudges the tip of yours.

"May I, um... could I?" He manages, albeit clumsily.

You beam. He bleeds out a breath of relief.

"You may, you can."

Messy and irrevocably in love, his lips press tenderly to yours. Under a now stark stretch of night above, stars begin to blink alive. A dream it would be, to stay in this moment forever. He can dream on with you.

please forgive any inaccuracies as i've only seen one and a half episodes of this show!!! wrote this half-asleep like a zombie so i kind of hate it now aah but i wanted to whip up something quick for him<3

[gofionaonthem]

Fiona, Lip, & Ian Gallagher in The Defenestration of Frank

[drakensberg-blog]

The reading comprehension and overall common sense on this website is piss poor.

[poupon]

how dare you say we piss on the poor

[aletheyass]

washing machine time to human time converter online

[amygdalae]

Wait, I have something to give you!

[The heebie jeebies has been added to your inventory]

[thebitchchronicles]

And while I'm on the subject actually;

- I'm glad that Amelia hooked up with someone because what tf was she supposed to do? Put her life on hold just in case when Toni gave no indication that she was doing anything but avoiding her?

- Jo deserves a break man

- link has a communication deficiency and it's pissing me the hell off

- Bailey I love you

- Richard cognitive evaluation when because why are we firing a good surgeon over saving someone's life ?! But all the rest of the hospital tomfuckery is water under the bridge ok Richard whatever you say Richard

- have we had an update on Catherine's cancer ? Does she still have that ? Who knows.

- is it just me or has Meredith's walk improved

- Simone you're beautiful and stunning and talented and for the love of Christ what is your deal with the cheating.

- Lucas nobody can ever make me hate you

- Bailey addendum cause I don't want to hear a damn thing about Winston and Jules

- did Amelia give up rights to scout ? I can't remember and I have not heard her speak of him other than mentioning in passing that she is a mother

- what if we didn't bring Meredith back to traumatize her again. What then.

- I was genuinely hoping Owen was gonna die in the damn car bro ik we're not supposed to wish death for people but I did it what r u gonna do about it #bitch

- like yeah I want Richard to retire but he's very special to me actually. His voice every so often reminds me of my grandpa and it is comforting to me