#((they just have all the piercings i want <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[famoussharkhairdoknight]

Meet my sister P.1-Jude Bellingham

Part.2, Part.3

plot: Federico Valverde wants to introduce his younger sister to Jude, his teammate. He hoped that something romantic would be born between them seeing that their characters were perfect together but things take a different turn

Federico Valverde had planned everything carefully. The dinner was set in a private room at one of Madrid's most exclusive restaurants. As a protective older brother, he had always had one goal in mind: to see his sister Y/N with someone who could truly match her energy. And Jude Bellingham seemed like the perfect candidate—at least on paper. Young, talented, ambitious.

But reality often has a way of derailing plans, and that evening was destined to be unforgettable for very different reasons than Federico had imagined.

---

You were seated at the table, impeccable as always. Your black dress, sleek and elegant yet bold, caught everyone’s attention. Your loose, glossy hair framed your face perfectly, and your radiant smile lit up the room. You were used to having everyone at your feet, but tonight, you were there only because your brother had insisted.

When Federico had asked you to meet Jude, you’d agreed out of curiosity. After all, you were intrigued to meet the so-called “phenomenon” he always talked about. But the moment the guy entered the room, with his air of confidence and slightly arrogant smirk, something inside you sparked—not admiration, but irritation mixed with a touch of challenge.

Jude sat down next to Federico without even glancing in your direction, which only added to your annoyance.

“Well, it seems someone forgot their manners,” you said, breaking the ice with your trademark sarcasm.

Jude finally looked up at you, his piercing eyes scanning you with a mix of curiosity and arrogance. “Ah, sorry. You’re the famous Y/N? Guess the descriptions were a bit exaggerated.”

Federico cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “Jude, that’s my sister. Maybe start with something less provocative?”

But you weren’t the type to back down. “And you must be Jude, the prodigy. Funny, you seemed taller on TV.”

Federico put a hand over his face. “Great. You two are going to get along just fine.”

---

Dinner continued with a constant exchange of jabs between you and Jude. You couldn’t stop provoking each other, and though every word was laced with venom, there was a palpable energy between you.

“So, Jude,” you began, your tone sweet but dripping with irony, “what’s it like living in Vinicius’s shadow? Must be hard being second best.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smug grin making you want to throw your glass of wine in his face. “Interesting, coming from someone who calls herself an actress, singer, and model. You know what they say: those who do too many things don’t do any of them well.”

Federico coughed awkwardly, trying to intervene. “Okay, maybe we can talk about something less… heated?”

But you ignored your brother, fixing Jude with a smile that was both a challenge and a promise of revenge. “Oh, don’t worry, Jude. I’m a multifaceted artist. You, on the other hand? You just chase a ball around. But I’m sure it serves some purpose, right?”

“Yeah,” he shot back without missing a beat. “To make more money than you’ve ever seen.”

Federico sighed, throwing his hands up. “I give up. I’m going to the bathroom, and when I come back, I want you two to act like civilized human beings.”

The moment Federico left the room, you and Jude locked eyes, the fire of disdain burning brightly between you. Then he leaned slightly toward you, that infuriating smirk still on his lips.

“You’re not used to someone standing up to you, are you?”

“I’m not used to someone trying this hard,” you retorted, crossing your arms.

“You’re funny,” he said, his tone almost admiring. “Especially for someone who probably spends more time choosing Instagram filters than living in the real world.”

You laughed, the sound sweet but dripping with sarcasm. “And you’re predictable. Let me guess: you’ve got a line of girls worshiping you and an ego that takes up more space than your talent.”

“You like to talk, huh?” Jude leaned back in his chair, watching you with a challenging expression. “But I bet behind all this theatrics is someone who can’t stand not being the center of attention.”

You leaned closer to him, your eyes blazing with determination. “And I bet behind all this arrogance is just a boy who’s scared of never being enough.”

For a moment, there was silence, and then Jude’s grin widened. “You know what? I like you. You’re annoying, but at least you’re not boring.”

“Too bad I can’t say the same about you,” you shot back, but there was a spark in your eyes that you couldn’t deny.

Federico returned just then, looking at you both suspiciously. “Okay, what happened while I was gone? Did you two decide to call a truce?”

“Not exactly,” you and Jude replied in unison.

Federico sighed. “I knew this was a terrible idea.”

---

That night, you couldn’t have imagined that the spark of hatred between you and Jude would grow into something far more complicated. But in that moment, the only thing you knew for sure was that Jude Bellingham was the first person who had truly challenged you���and that intrigued you more than you cared to admit.

[3igbootyl0ver]

who hurt you? [i]

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: Y/N struggles with unspoken feelings for Tara and is shut out when trying to help her after discovering possible abuse from her girlfriend.

word count: 1522

warnings: mentions of abuse, bruises, angst

a/n: hellooo, this is my first time writing in these type of situations (about abuse) so I apologize for any inaccuracy. I'm just kind of experimenting with this fic plus I'm not sure how many parts will it take to complete it. As always, any feedback is appreciated <3

“Let’s go! One more lap!” Coach Melissa’s voice cut through the air, sharp and firm. The team pushed forward, legs aching with every step. Your legs felt like they were made of jelly. With each stride growing heavier than the last, you fought to keep them moving. The fatigue was relentless, creeping up like a shadow, threatening to overtake you. Your muscles screamed in protest, and the rhythmic pounding of your feet on the track seemed to get slower and slower.

The pressure was heavy on you. Being the captain of the Blackmore High soccer team means handling the heavy amount of responsibilities and standards to upkeep. You would be up for the state tournament for the finals in a week, and you were afraid that you were going to disappoint your team and coach, eager to win and experience the triumph of being the champions. It won’t be easy, especially when you’re up against your rival team, Woodsboro High. You have to—no, need to—win against them since it’s your last year in high school, especially when you harbor a deep loathing for their captain, Amber Freeman. Her name wasn’t new to you; she has been dating your friend, Tara.

Tara has been your friend since middle school. You guys were inseparable back then, sharing everything from food to secrets and dreams about the future. Even through all the awkward stages of adolescence, Tara was always by your side, offering a comforting presence when things felt uncertain. You’ll have to admit, you started having feelings for Tara a year ago, noticing her in a way you hadn’t before, captivated by her doe eyes and her personality. The more time you spent together, the harder it became to deny what was growing inside you. You imagined all sorts of scenarios in your head, rehearsing the words over and over, hoping one day you would find the courage to tell her.

But the day never came; your plans to confess your undying love to her were halted and shoved down the dumpster when you found out she started dating Amber six months ago. The universe must’ve hated you; finding out your best friend was in love with someone else the same day you wanted to confess felt like a punch in the gut, a cruel reminder that you had waited too long, that you had kept your feelings hidden for so long that someone else had stepped in.

You ignored and neglected your feelings, pushing them into the corner of your mind, hoping they’d disappear. You couldn't risk ruining your friendship with Tara, especially now. It hurt too much to see her with Amber, but the last thing you wanted was to make things awkward or lose her entirely. Recently, you’ve been noticing her pulling herself away from you. She wouldn’t answer your texts or calls or act like she didn’t see you in the hallways. But you would see her post on her social media, always being with Amber.

It hurt—a deep, sharp ache that seemed to pierce straight through your chest, leaving you breathless. It wasn’t just a passing pang; it was a constant, gnawing pain that lingered, like a wound that wouldn’t heal. Every time you saw Tara with Amber, laughing, holding hands, something inside you twisted painfully, as though a part of you was being slowly ripped away. It felt like your heart was caught in a vice, tightening with every smile Tara gave to Amber, every word she spoke about her. It was the kind of hurt that made it hard to breathe, hard to think, like you were suffocating under the weight of all the words you could never say. You’ve decided to shove your feelings down the drain and focus on getting your grades up before graduating and leading your team for your final year at Blackmore High.

You were walking with your friend Chad, who was also on the soccer team, as the two of you made your way to class. The crisp morning air after the exhilarating and tiring practice made the walk a bit more refreshing, but the weight of everything going on in your mind made it hard to truly enjoy. Chad, as always, was complaining about the harsh punishments he had to do by Coach Melissa, gaining a deep sense of hatred for your coach.

“She’s nuts, man!” Chad ranted, venting his feelings about her absurd method of training. You smiled and nodded along, trying to keep your focus on his words, but your mind kept drifting back to Tara.

Chad glanced over at you, noticing your silence. “Hey, what’s up? You’ve been kinda quiet today. Something on your mind?” He nudged you lightly with his elbow, clearly oblivious to the storm swirling inside you.

“Nothing, man. It’s just... Have you been noticing Tara has been acting distant lately? She hasn’t been to school regularly. Has she been talking to you or Mindy?”

“Oh! That’s what I wanted to ask you about. Mindy found her in the bathroom a few days ago. She said Tara had some bruises around her arms. Tara was trying to cover it up and just shrugged it off, saying she fell down the stairs or something..”

The world seemed to tilt for a moment, and you could feel your breath catch in your throat. Bruises? Tara? No. It couldn’t be. Tara was always so careful, so strong. She wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. Or would she? You could feel a knot tighten in your stomach, and your mind began racing, replaying every interaction you’d had with her recently, trying to make sense of it.

“Tara would never...,” you muttered, almost to yourself, trying to push the thought away, but it lingered. "Are you sure? Maybe she just bumped into something." Chad’s face was serious now, his usual easygoing expression gone. "I don’t know, man. Mindy said it didn’t look like something she could’ve just gotten from falling. And Tara’s been acting a little off lately, like, way more distant than usual."

Your stomach twisted further. Tara had been distant—now that you thought about it, she'd been a little quieter, more closed off, not the same carefree friend you’d known for so long. But bruises? It didn’t add up. “Maybe we should talk to her,” you suggested, your voice betraying the concern building inside. “I mean, if something’s going on... we need to be there for her.”

Chad nodded slowly, looking just as worried. "Yeah. But if Tara's covering it up, you know she’s not gonna want to talk about it. She’s always been like that, right? Stubborn." The silence between you both grew thick, a heavy feeling settling in your chest. You both knew that if something was truly wrong, Tara wouldn’t come forward easily. It was hard to imagine her going through something like that alone, but it seemed like she was. And you, you didn’t know what to do.

One afternoon, you finally made up your mind and talked to her. You couldn’t just sit by and watch anymore. You found her standing by her locker, her head down as she fiddled with her phone, looking like she was on the verge of crying. You almost hesitated, but you knew you had to speak up. “Tara,” you said, your voice tentative as you approached.

She stiffened at the sound of your voice, quickly wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater before glancing up at you with a guarded expression, her posture immediately closing off. “What is it, Y/N?” Her tone was cool, but there was an edge to it, as if she was preparing for a confrontation.

You swallowed, trying to find the right words. “Tara, are you—” you hesitated, unsure what to say. “The bruises... Are you okay?” Tara's face hardened almost instantly. She crossed her arms over her chest, as if trying to protect herself from more than just the physical cold. “I’m fine, okay?” she snapped, her voice sharp. “It’s nothing. Just..personal stuff.”

You took a careful step forward, trying to keep your tone gentle. “Tara, I— Is it Amber?”

“I said I’m fine!” She cut you off, her eyes flashing with frustration. “Why does it matter to you anyway?” Her defensive walls were up, and the more she spoke, the more distant she seemed. You froze, feeling the sting of her words. It wasn’t like Tara to shut people out like this. Your Tara.

“It matters because I care about you. I don’t care if we don’t talk anymore. I’m worried, Tara.” You said, your voice shaking. Tara’s eyes flashed. She didn’t want to hear it. 

“I don’t need anyone’s help; I’m fine.” Without another word, she turned and walked away. You stood there, watching her go, feeling the weight of her defensiveness hanging in the air. The look in her eyes said it all—she wasn’t ready to talk, and she wasn’t about to let anyone in. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just lost your chance to help her, and a part of you wondered if she’d ever let anyone close enough to see the truth.

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

a/n: I hope this is up to standard lol, I won't be promising a next part. I'm not experienced enough to write these type of sensitive topics or just writing in general lol. i know the pacing is a little messed up hehe maybe I should disappear and never write again and delete this account idk

[miaountainmama]

sharp

characters: boothill, gn!reader contains: little angst that's resolved by the end. boothill is terrified of love

wc: 1148

a/n: i love boothill so much that i needed to write something with thought and emotion and not just smut. i have 3 other boothill fics in the works because i keep getting ideas. girl help

You have always loved softly. You know this, have embraced it, giving your soft touches and quiet words freely. Boothill has forgotten how to love. It has been so long since he loved that his love has turned sharp, pierces through his heart and wounds him so deeply he can’t stand it. He cannot recall how to love like you do anymore— he can only scream the depths of his affection from the rooftops, harsh and loud, and hold you so tightly he swears you’ll break. He has become so sharp he’s afraid, afraid he’ll puncture your soft skin, afraid the razor edge of his smile will leave you bleeding.

Fear doesn’t suit Boothill, but you see it in every glance he gives you. It drives you insane, the way his expression sobers when he’s around you. That near-constant smile of his drops clean from his face, turning into the gentle slope of a frown that just doesn’t look right on him. Existing in the same room as him has become suffocating, the sheer longing in his being crashing from his body in waves so strong they’re capable of sending you to your knees. Still, he withdraws-- his touches have become few and far between, and when you tell him you love him, that look of anguish he gives you nearly breaks you.

“I’m not fragile, you know. You’re not going to snap me in half,” you tell him, stepping closer to him, and it doesn’t escape you the way that he leans back slightly, that all familiar expression bubbling up in his eyes.

“I… I can’t, darlin’,” he says in return, voice laced with yearning that he refuses to address, and your own eyes turn desperate, though you know you can’t force anything. You want to reach out and grab him so badly, to press yourself against him and thread your hands through his hair and tell him it’s okay, that you know he would never hurt you on purpose, that anything he does you can take-- but you know it’ll make it worse. You know it’ll drive the knife in his heart a thousand times deeper.

Instead, you reach out your hand.

He looks at it questioningly, lips slightly parted in a question, and you just gesture until he gets the memo-- you would almost think his mechanics were malfunctioning, the way his hand stutters on the way to yours, and when his fingers brush against yours ever so lightly you smile at him, a smile so soft and patient he feels like a wounded animal before you. Gently, you lead him to the couch, sitting down and motioning for him to sit beside you. He does, taking a seat right in the middle of the late afternoon sun filtering through the blinds, and it lights his hair up golden.

“Do you love me, Boothill?” you start simply, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that this man was head over heels for you. He nods, not a sliver of hesitation running through his veins.

“More than life itself,” he says, and you hum in acknowledgement. You run your thumb over his knuckles, and that everlasting ache in his eyes intensifies.

“Then what’s stopping you?” you ask, and he goes silent. His head dips, and you can feel him struggle, at war with his own thoughts.

“I ain’t too good with words, darlin’,”, he admits, and you don’t miss that little undercurrent of shame in his tone. You tilt your head slightly, leaning back slightly to make yourself just a bit more comfortable in the cushions.

“Think about it. I can wait as long as you need,” you say, and his gaze flickers up to meet yours for a moment before it goes back to your hands resting softly on each other. He takes a minute or so, refusing to make eye contact for its entirety and then some.

“You don’t deserve a man like me,” he starts, and you huff, rolling your eyes. Of course he would land on a reason so basic and absurd. No, you needed him to unpack that a little more, dive a bit deeper.

“Why?” you probe further, and he takes another pause.

“I ain’t fit for much but shootin’ these days, darlin’. Haven’t loved anything in so long I think I’ve forgotten how.” He’s still looking at anything but your face, and it’s almost boyish, the way he’s near hiding. You reply as easily as breathing.

“You can always relearn,” you say, and his eyes finally snap to yours.

“What if I mess up? What if I hurt you?” he says, urgent, and your voice is ever calm in contrast. You send him another small smile.

“Oh, you will,” you say with finality, and his face scrunches up-- he moves to pull away his hand, but you’ve suddenly tightened your grip, and he gives up and leaves it there without too much resistance. You’re too calm about this, too willing.

“Then why would I-”

“Boothill,” you interrupt, and he shuts up the moment the words leave your mouth. “Did you make mistakes when you became a parent?”

Understanding the point you’re getting at, he frowns. “Of course I did, but-”

“Do you regret it then? Being her dad?”

That stops him in his tracks.

“Of course not. I… she was my little girl, darlin’, my pride and joy,” he says, and you can hear the hurt in his voice, the wistfulness as he’s taken many years into the past. Part of you regrets bringing her up, but you know he needs a personal analogy to get out of the headspace he’s in and she’s the only example you can think of.

“Then do you regret loving me?” you ask quietly.

“There is not a single damn reality where I regret loving you, darlin’,” he answers you, face dead serious, and it soothes your heart. That’s all the answer you need from him and he knows it-- you just look at him, face softening as you wait for him to connect the dots and piece together what you’re implying.

That it’s worth it. That a life in which you have loved and experienced pain is worth more than a thousand lifetimes without loving. That mistakes are inevitable and a part of anything. That you know all this and have accepted it wholly-- have accepted him wholly, him in all his imperfections. 

He looks back at you. He looks back at you and swears he sees the whole world-- you in the sunlight, infinitely forgiving and merciful, and he nearly renounces his faith then and there. Forget the Hunt-- forget Lan, forget any Aeon and the paths they have built. Compared to the divinity before him, they are nothing, and he knows his heart must answer in kind.

He reaches out tentatively to touch your face, and you swear you melt.

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ Heartache ⭑

Masterlist

Request: Yes, this one

A/N: Had to tweak it a teeny tiny bit but hope you like it anon!

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader

Warnings: Angst, a bit of fluff, mentions of trauma

Summary: Once best friends now turned against each other, will their betrothal mend their rift?

Word count: 5k

6 years before, early days of summer

He shouldn’t be doing this, every muscle in his body had a mind of its own. But rage and shame that moved like a storm within him drove him further. Breath caught in his throat when he heard the faint roar of a dragon down below. If he was caught he would be in so much trouble, but that wasn’t going to stop him now. If he wanted a dragon, he was going to have to work for it, that much was clear.

His feet shuffled further and further down and his thoughts wandered off, were there even any unclaimed dragons in the dragon pit? He wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t change his mind now. He was so close, what would you think? Would you treat him differently if he came back with a dragon? Maybe you would at least finally stop pitying him, your brothers would stop bullying him. Maybe Aegon would finally leave him alone. He was never going to find out though if he didn’t round this corner. 

He was at last down in the caves, hiding behind a stone wall as he listened to a dragon rustle close by. He pushed the thoughts out of his head and carefully peeked around the corner, flashes of a big blue dragon caught his eye, Dreamfyre. If he ran further down now he had a chance of not getting burned alive by his sister's dragon. So he counted down 3…2…1, go, he hastily rounded the corner but in his hastness his fabric covered shoulder got caught against the rough stone wall, making him trip and fall. 

Dreamfyre’s big eyes turned to him and she let out a piercing roar, her fire almost burning him as he quickly scrambled to his feet, almost tripping again in the sand, as he made a run for it. He thought he could get away with it and pretend it never happened, but as he ran up, back to the arena of the pit, the dragon keepers stared at him in fury. “Skorkydoso dare ao jikagon against se rules, nyke jāhor report bisa naejot se dārys!” How dare you go against the rules, I will report this to the king! Tears filled his eyes, how could he have cowarded away, he wanted to prove himself but instead all he proved was that he was weak.

‘The Pink Dread’ stared at him as he passed the pig, the dragon keeper dragging him firmly along by his arm. All he could mutter was a meek, “Iksan vaoreznuni.” I’m sorry. He knew his mother would lose her mind over this, it wasn’t the first time he was caught and it was certainly not the first time he ran away from the dragons like a coward. Once he was back in the Red Keep, he luckily didn’t run into his brother or his nephews and when he reached his mothers bedchamber door he couldn’t stop the tears rolling down his cheeks. And he was proven right, his mother was furious.

When he left his mothers chambers, his tears had dried and all that was left was fury. How could he be shamed like this, time and time again. All that consumed his thoughts was ‘What if his egg had hatched?’ ‘Would Aegon still have made fun of him?’ It was almost supper time but he still let his feet guide him to the inner courtyard. There was no one there, just like he suspected. He lowered himself to the ground and hiked his knees up to his chest, he needed silence, needed to think. The big tree looming over him.

A soft rustling of feet pulled him from his thoughts, not that he had any good ones to begin with, he didn’t know how much time had passed. Then he saw her figure in the corner of his eye, lowering herself next to him, joining him on the ground. He could feel her eyes on him, but he couldn’t look at her. If she hadn’t already heard from her brother’s, she would’ve probably heard it from the whispers around the castle. “Aegon is cruel, my brothers are young and don’t understand. I...I hope you didn’t get into too much trouble. My brothers certainly didn’t, I heard your mother is furious though, for what they did.” You noticed he didn’t really respond, which was odd. Usually he would at least talk to you about it.

You were his only friend, even though it was discouraged by his mother. Who often called even the eldest, silver haired and purple eyed daughter of Rhaenyra a bastard. He liked to pretend you weren’t, and that your Valyrian features proved it but of course he couldn’t be certain. After a few moments of you staring at him, he spoke, “I’m fine, I just needed to think. Clear my mind.” You nodded at his words but you knew that it was more than that. “You missed supper you know? No one spoke a word but I’m pretty sure everyone knew what happened.” He sighed and looked down at your words, great, he just gave his brother and nephews more material to bully him with. 

His eyes widened when he suddenly felt your small warm hand grasp his. He at last looked at you and saw your soft smile. “You’re not lesser than us just because you don’t have a dragon, yet. The day will come, I promise.” Your words usually soothed him and most of the time he genuinely believed you but something about today, made him break. “Easy for you to say, your dragon actually hatched.” He mumbled irritated, everytime you would tell him he would have a dragon, he rolled his eyes. You didn’t know what it was like, wouldn’t know what it was like. Even a bastard could have a dragon but he could not.

In the late days of summer the shocking news arrived, Laena Velaryon had died. Even though there was a rift in the family, the horrible news of the by everyone beloved Laena had brought them together. But of course tensions never left the air, even as they stood together, they were divided. Aemond saw how her lips thinned at Vaemond Velaryons words, even though he felt justified that at last someone dared to speak up, he still felt bad for her. She was the only one that didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve the cruelty the gods had gifted her. 

The somewhat draining ceremony had concluded but there was still a remembrance feast for the lady Laena. Not that anyone was eating. They were surely drinking though, especially Aegon. He too nursed on a cup of wine as he let his eyes wander the crowd, Laenor hadn’t been seen after the ceremony, no doubt that he was destroyed by grief. His eyes finally found her dressed in black figure. His heart tensed when he saw you hug both the Velaryon girls, comforting them. You were only ten years old but you were more mature than his sixteen year old brother Aegon. 

His mind wandered as it so often did, drawing out Aegon’s nagging about Helaena. Would you comfort him like that if his mother or father died? Finally hold him as he so desired? He hoped so and wondered if he should offer some words of comfort, it would certainly please his mother. Even though he had been punished enough after that night he still felt ashamed and hurt more than ever, even you couldn’t calm the storm inside him. Vhagar’s distant roar snapped him right out of his thoughts. Seven Hells, of course, Laena is dead, the rider of Vhagar. She was free to claim, the largest dragon in the world, if that couldn’t prove how worthy of a Targaryen prince he was, nothing could. 

It would certainly impress you, wouldn’t it? You could even fly together, your dragon was big enough now and you had your first flight mere weeks ago and were now often seen in the sky alongside your mother. Warmth spread through his body at the thought, it was a dream he wanted so badly to come true, so bad he was climbing through the dunes. If he failed this time, it was over, for good. He would never recover if he did not succeed now. He was determined, no one and nothing would stop him, he would claim Vhagar. In the dark it was a bit hard to see but the moonlight then revealed her ginormous body, resting in the sand. 

His breaths came out in short pants, he had never felt this scared in his life. Everything in his body was telling him to run, that it was a mistake. But he couldn't, he wouldn't, he had to do this. And so he had reached her, his trembling hand touched her rough skin, his heart skipped a beat as her eyes snapped open, her low growling echoing through the night. Her head lifted and her giant jaws opened ready to burn him where he stood. He quickly held up his hand, “Dohaeras! Dohaeras Vhagar! Lykiri! Lykiri!” She seemed to calm somewhat at his words and at least closed her jaws. A new power and determination flowed through him as he grasped the ropes hanging from her body, making his way up to the saddle. When he sat, he loosened the reins among the horns of the saddle, “Soves!” Vhagar looked at him for a moment and he repeated, “Dohaeras Vhagar! Soves!” 

Her giant body moved, shaking the ground beneath her, finally taking to the sky. Aemond almost fell off but he held on thight and made his way back in the saddle. He was sure his screams could be heard back on Driftmark and he was right in a way. Both the girls leered out the window as Vhagar’s body rose to the sky. You were comfy in your bed, telling Luke for the tenth time to stop snoring so you could finally get some rest, but when he had at last shut up, the door opened and Baela and Rhaena entered the room. Awake already, you quickly rose at their words, someone had claimed Vhagar. You knew it was Aemond, who else could it be?

You, Jace and Luke followed the two sisters down to the caves, where Aemond had just appeared. He took note of the disappointing look on your face, something he didn’t expect. Weren’t you proud of him? He finally had a dragon, why weren’t you happy for him? “It’s you.” Baela spoke up, “Yes it’s me.” You looked down at your feet, even though you knew he had every right to claim Vhagar for himself, you couldn’t help but feel bad for Rhaena. “She was mine to claim!” Rhaena said angrily, Baela standing next to her. Next thing you knew vile insults were thrown and so were hands. You tried to stop him, you really did, but Jace bumped into you while getting pushed by Aemond and took you with him. It happened so fast, Aemond bent over in pain clasping at his wound, blood pouring in the sand. You hadn’t realised you screamed.

You hid behind your mother as the king sneered angrily, you were terrified, terrified when the maester proclaimed his eye could not be saved and even more terrified of what would happen to Luke. But the king surprisingly did not take action, Aemond seemed to accept his sacrifice for a dragon but Alicent did not. Once again screams echoed through the room and your mother held Alicent in a tight grasp. You didn’t understand how, but all of a sudden everyone stood still, silent. Then you noticed the blood dripping from your mothers arm on the floor. Even though you all got off easy for such a grave accident, the actions completely ripped the family apart, and you feared it could never be mended. 

Present time, early days of fall

Tension was high in the air as your mother told you the news. After years of leaving King’s Landing, your ‘father’ dead and Daemon now taking his place, you were to return to King’s Landing. You had mixed feelings over your betrothal to Aemond, he was once your best friend and you his. But after that night, everything changed, the two of you had not spoken after the incident and you already knew it was going to be hard seeing him again. He was now eight and ten years old, you five and ten. 

Alicent agreed to the betrothal desperately made by your mother to somewhat mend the family, it seemed like a good idea, to her. Jace would marry Baela and they would one day rule, Luke was to marry Rhaena and then rule in Driftmark. And you, well you would serve as a wife in King’s Landing, more like serve as a peacekeeper. A reminder that the family ‘was one’. The journey was not a long one since Dragon Stone and King’s Landing were fairly close and a short dragonflight away. The household would follow on ship, you, your mother and father, Jace and Luke would take to the sky. 

The day was still quite early when you all made your arrival to the Dragon Pit, a large coach already waiting to take you to the Red Keep. Once you were inside, the coach started moving and you noticed small folk scattered around in the city, cheering. Were they happy about this union? Did they even know of how divided this family was? Perhaps not, it would actually be a good thing if they thought all was well, otherwise it would create doubt and that would be bad. 

You were greeted only by lord Caswell, questioning looks being passed. Someone of your mother’s station being greeted this way was rather offensive. But you were quite happy to have this small audience, nerves were eating away at you at the thought of seeing Aemond again. But you also reeked of dragon and wanted to clean up before meeting anyone. And so you were brought to your chambers, a hot bath waiting for you. To the servants surprise you sent them away, all you wanted was to lower yourself in the hot water and relax, think and calm yourself for the supper that would occur tonight. The supper that would officiate the betrothal in front of the king, in front of the whole family. 

You hoped you wouldn’t suffer a similar fate to Helaena, for you knew how miserable her marriage to Aegon was. You could luckily only imagine what being married to a drunk like him would be like. The bath calmed you somewhat and you were nice and clean by the time servants came back to dress you in a beautiful gown. But they didn’t bring one of your own, one of the servants nervously looked at you as she clasped the green gown in her hands, two dragons seemed to be embroidered on the corset, your dragon… and Aemonds. Did Alicent do this? You hoped it wouldn’t start another fight in the family but you reluctantly let them dress you anyway. 

Supper was getting awfully close and a servant started to work on your hair, a typical Valyrian braided hairstyle, with some emerald pins keeping it in place. Even though the colour green was pretty much forbidden by your mother on Dragon Stone, it still looked beautiful on you. Your stomach started to hurt, like it usually did when you were nervous. You dreaded this entire thing, of course you wanted to see Aemond again but the way the circumstances have changed everything made it so difficult to pretend. Your feet shuffled behind your mother to the dining room, it was decorated beautifully, something you decided to focus on to keep the nerves at bay. 

Then you saw them, Otto, Alicent, your grandsire, Aegon, Helaena and Aemond. All standing to welcome you, however you felt like you were going to throw up. They did not look particularly happy, except for the king of course. He was delighted to see his daughter again, he could barely stand even with his cane but somehow still managed to hug his beloved daughter. Then the king shifted his eyes to you and then to Aemond, a bit of a forced smile now on his face. “What a joyous occasion today, joining our families as one. My son and granddaughter binding their ties. Let us celebrate, please take your seats.” He almost panted out, he could barely walk or talk anymore, everything costing too much energy. 

You let your eyes shift over Aemond’s figure, he was so much taller now. Towering over you by at least a head. His eye patch covering the dark past between you. And even you had to admit he had become a very handsome man. Aemond gestured next to him as he sat down, you didn’t even realise you were the only one still standing. You took a deep breath and made your way over to the empty seat the servant was holding back for you. And so you sat next to Otto Hightower and your betrothed. You could barely listen to the king’s speech when Aemond was so close, he smelled nice, must’ve used perfume oil in his bath. His now massive hands rested on the table. When you noticed him looking you quickly diverted your eyes. 

Supper was incredibly draining and of course ended in a fight, surprisingly Aemond pushed you out of the way to safety when things broke loose, and Otto Hightower himself put his arm in front of you, ensuring you wouldn’t go near the danger. Even though things ended somewhat amicably, you still veered towards Aemonds chamber. You still remembered the path well, the light of the moon shining through the halls of the Red Keep. You had to talk to him, really, talk to him. None of that polite and stiff small talk during supper. 

The dark wooden door seemed so much more imposing now that it was in front of you but you lifted your hand anyway and knocked three times on his door, something you used as a code when you were kids. His eyes snapped from the fireplace at the sound of the knocks. No one ever knocked three times on his door, no one but you. He swiftly rose from his seat and made his way to the door, before he opened it he took a deep breath. He couldn’t appear weak now, not after all this time, not in front of you. He opened the door and it revealed your figure. 

“I’m sorry for disturbing you.” You spoke softer than you wanted. He didn’t say anything, instead he stepped to the side and gestured for you to come inside. He was quieter now that he had grown older, something you had noticed during supper as well. You both sat down on his settee in the room. Since he kept quiet you decided to kick the dreaded conversation off. “I never… I never got the chance to talk to you… after what happened. I’m so sorry Aemond. I wish I could’ve stopped Luke, if only Jace didn’t take me with him as he fell down-” 

“Stop.” His low voice cut through the room, through your sentence. You swallowed hard, was he mad at you as well? “We don’t need to do this.” He urged. His gaze was on the fireplace again, not even looking at you. “Aem-” Aem, a nickname he hadn’t heard in years, a nickname which once brought him joy now hurt him deeply. He felt betrayed and angry, that even you left him behind. “Do you hate me now?” You asked, if he didn’t want to talk you had to force it out of him, which you could only do by being direct. 

He sighed before he spoke. “I could never hate you, I know you wish no more for this betrothal than I do.” His words cut you like a knife. Did he actually not want you? Did he also see you as a bastard now? “What? Aem-” He stood from his seat and walked to the door, opening it. “I think it’s best you leave.” You shook your head in disbelief, the Aemond you once knew was gone and this hardened, cold man replaced him. “No, you can’t just kick me out. We have to talk about this, we are getting married! Please, let’s just talk, like old times.” He looked down at the ground, still not looking at you. 

You stormed over to him and grabbed his jaw, hearing the slight gasp in his breath. “Why won’t you even look at me!” You yelled now. He couldn’t bear to look at you, he wanted to be angry, to push you away like you had him and he knew that one look at your beautiful eyes would make all that anger melt away. Reluctantly he finally let his eyes find yours, and right as he predicted, all his anger melted away. Desperation took its stead, he was desperate for you to touch his hand again, to comfort him again. 

His head then hung low and your hand let go of his jaw. He closed the door and walked back over to the settee. “You don’t have to pretend, not in front of me.” You said making your way back over to the settee, joining him again. “What do you mean by that.” He grumbled. “Oh please, you know what I mean, you used to be sweet and kind and now you’re colder than the north.” He looked at you with disdain. He couldn’t believe what you were saying, anger bubbled in his gut again. “You mean the night your bastard brother took my eye? And then not getting punished for it? Or do you mean the years of bullying I’ve endured, suffering by Aegon’s hand even after I claimed the largest dragon in the world?” He snapped. Now standing again, pacing the room in frustration. 

Seeing you and your family made it all come to the surface again, for a year or four he had some peace again, but that was all shattered when he got betrothed to you. You looked at him with confusion, had Aegon continued to bully him after you left? You stood as well and walked over to him. “It doesn’t need to be like this, we can go back to what we once had, please.” Aemond’s resolve seemed to crumble a bit, the idea was so tempting, yet he still showed some restraint. You noticed it, the battle going on inside him, so you stepped forward, closer and closer to him. You noticed his widened eyes, then you wrapped your arms around him. You hadn’t hugged him in years, the last time being the whole situation with ‘the pink dread’. He completely tensed up at first.

But as you held him longer, his arms found his way around you, hugging you close. The wall around him seemed to fall the longer you held each other. “I missed you so much Aem.” You mumbled against his chest. Tears welled up in eye as you spoke. He couldn’t believe it, he had you in his arms again and you were to be his wife. Before you left that was his dream, having a dragon and you, and now it was to become true. 

One year later, early days of summer

Vaemond Velaryon asking for a petition for Driftmark was a grave offence to your family, you had been married to Aemond for a couple of months now and finally mended the rift between the two of you. In that time, you had gotten to know him again, he still studied history and philosophy, still trained with the sword and still lacked affection. You were horrified when he finally told you of what Aegon did to him after you left. The pain you felt for him went beyond words and after that night, when he told you while laying against your chest, you went above and beyond to make him feel loved. You felt like it was the very least you could do for him and so now here you were, about four times a week Aemond would have a bath but it wasn’t the servants that washed him, it was his own lady wife. 

The water splashed softly when you dipped the sponge in again, carefully washing the dirt of skin. He felt his entire body relax under your touch, letting his head rest against the edge of the tub. His eye patch somewhere discarded in the room, he didn’t need it when he was alone with you. The realm had profited greatly from your marriage with Aemond, everyone seemed calm and happy. But you could feel the storm coming with the petition on the morrow. Your family had already arrived today and you told them how happy you were and that seemed to do well for now. 

When you finished washing his body, you kissed the top of his head before moving on to wash his long hair. He hummed softly when your fingers massaged his scalp, making sure to clean his hair thoroughly. He loved the way you cared for him, it's all he wanted his entire life. You kissed his head a few more times while washing his hair, then you helped him dry off and get back into his breeches. Making him sit down, you grabbed a comb and started to carefully comb through his silver locks, making sure to braid it before bed.

You had already prepared yourself to sleep, so now the both of you crawled in the sheets, and as he layed in your arms, falling into a deep slumber, anxiety of what could happen on the morrow clouded your mind and sleep evaded you. The morning soon came and you walked next to Aemond as you entered the throne room, Aegon and Helaena in front of you. Your family already stood to the right, the Velaryons to the left. Everything had gone so well these past few months, why did Vaemond have to ruin it?

The petition started as bad as you expected, you gave Luke and Jace soft comforting smiles through the ordeal but when your mothers turn to speak came, the giant doors opened and the king dragged himself in, stumbling to his throne. Of course you knew of the Hightowers conspiracy with Vaemond, it was quite plain to see but you held your tongue, you didn’t want to ruin the bliss you were in after all these years. But when the king had spoken, Vaemond’s sneer was a clear sign of what was to come. The horrible insults that left his lips, shattered your dream, you looked at Aemond with tears in your eyes but your stomach turned when you saw the small smirk on his lips. 

Your lips parted and gasped when Vaemond’s head was cut off by Daemon. Aemond then stepped in front of you, holding you back and protecting your eyes. But that did nothing to erase the memory of him smiling at Vaemond calling your brothers, including you, bastards. Hurt consumed you and you wanted nothing more than to take to the sky on your dragon and leave, what Aemond just did could not be easily forgiven. Supper was even worse, if the last time you all had supper was any indication this could only go wrong but you couldn’t care less, the knife in your back only seethed deeper as you saw Jace and Baela laugh, even Rhaena and Luke were having a good time. 

Aemond just had to ruin it. He tried to reach out, caress your hand on the table but you pulled back and ignored him when he gave you a questioning look. Then he noticed Luke smirking at the scene. He lost it. He raised his cup and made sure to give an even worse speech than last year. Only this time, swords were drawn, you didn’t care to see how this ended, instead you left. Your steps were hurried as you made your way back to your shared bedchamber, slamming the door behind you. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you sat on your bed, all you had was ruined. It went so well and it just had to get destroyed. You knew your marriage was fragile but you didn’t want to believe it. At last Aemond returned.

He too slammed the door behind him and stormed over to you. “Why are you acting like this? You humiliated me!” He seethed. You only looked at him with red eyes, you only now realised what a selfish person he was. Of course he went through so much but so did you and you didn’t deserve his anger. “I humiliated you? What about Vaemond humiliating me?! Insulting your own wife in front of you and you smiled! Smiled! How could you do that to me?! And that speech, just to further humiliate me!” His face fell at that, he never even realised he smiled, never realised that his wife was still Rhaenyra’s child. “My love…” He started but you didn’t want to give him the time. “I want to join my family on the journey back to Dragon Stone. I’ve barely seen them and wish to spend time with them, to think.” You stated, you left no room for argument.

You saw how his face turned to panic. “No. No no no, I’m sorry, I never realised. I never meant to hurt you my love please. Please don’t leave, I need you here.” You shook your head. “You made your bed, now lie in it.” His eye teared up, and pleaded again. “I need you, please don’t leave me, not again. I can’t go without you again. I’m begging you.” You shook your head again, “Some time apart might do us good, maybe you’ll realise how much I do for you and how little I get back.” Words couldn’t describe how his heart broke at the sight of you boarding the ship, no kiss goodbye, nothing, his life was empty yet again. He could only hope you returned soon.

[z0mb1epuzzy]

okok so i just found your blog and lemme tell you ive been eating it UPPP

how would you feel abt josh or maybe chris? (rlly any of the men tbh) with a s/o who has nipple piercings?

i feel like josh would be sooo into it when he found out/when you first got them done. he wouldve def been so so so supportive if you wanted to get them done during the relationship. hed love the sensitivity after theyve finally healed, lowkey would sit there admiring them for a hot while just looking and fiddling with them(i headcannon josh as a tits/thighs man gonna be honest)

more smutty imagine, his s/o is bouncing on his lap, and your tits are just so perfect, and he just cant resist himself anymore, hes gotta know how they feel on his tongue. he takes one of your nipples in his mouth and just rolls his tongue over the piercing, mapping out the feel with his tongue carefully. hed be so content i fear.

chris would be shy about it, like, "oh wow, those mustve hurt pretty bad, huh?", not drawing too much attention to it at first, but eventually, maybe youre sat on his lap, grinding your hips against his, youre both sensitive and heated, panting, and chris has been admiring the way the balls of the peircing really perk up your nipple, and after a particularly rough stroke of your hips against his clothed hard-on, his large hands grip your hips or ass, digging into the flesh and he leans down, taking your nipple between his lips in an attempt to cover his loud whimper. after all, with you riding his hips, youre just elevated enough where your tits are right there, at a conveniently perfect level to his mouth.

someone save me my goddd 🙀

anon thank you for leaving this wonderful little gift in my inbox holy shit

warning 4 this one! afab reader potentially implied!??

josh:

i totally agree that josh is a tits man, but honestly - he just loves any curves… ass? tits? thighs?? and they’re not on his face rn?? 🤨

he’d totally love nipple piercings… man’s a FREAAK!! first time he sees them he’s like 🧿🧿.. absolutely baffled!??! during intimacy he’d love them too, teasing them with his lips or fingers just to hear you whine and shudder like hello!?!😵‍💫

also to elaborate on your thought… he’d definitely give them some special attention if you’re riding him, i mean�� they’re LITERALLY right there.. and he’s a strong man, but not that strong… it would definitely satisfy that little part of his brain that wants to analyze and commit all of your little reactions to memory… running his thumbs over them, maybe a lil pinch, kisses, sucking on them, y’know.. the works. he wants to know what makes you moan for him the most!!

as for chris… oh boy..

he’s a lot more flustered by them, AND more hesitant to mess with them.. his eyes getting all wide when he sees them for the first time..like? BAFFLED.. “oh, wow… uh.. man, did those hurt?” and like.. obviously yeah, so he’s a little scared to fuck with them? BUT once he knows they’re healed and in fact don’t hurt anymore… oh lord!!!

he loves having you in his lap CANON! his face getting all flushed while you grind down on him, him touching ur piercings just to hopefully mess you up like you’re doing to him… he’s sensitive!! he doesn’t wanna cum first :( and ur tits look so pretty with the bars through them, making ur nipples look extra perked up, ?!yknow!?

chris def has a secret oral fixation.. i have no reason or explanation… my brain is saying its true so i’m sharing it with the masses!!! he needs to he doing something with his mouth, especially when he’s close 😵‍💫 so he’d love to wrap his lips around your nipples just to hear you whine for him like… UGHH!!

i hope i fulfilled your expectations anon!! praying this is good or else….. (idk nothing will happen i’m just dramatic)

another note, i typed this shit like 3 days ago and it went to DRAFTS. INSTEAD OF POSTING.

thx bbg @ghouleaterr 4 giving me motivation once again…

[mizuruifan9]

yippie!! I'll use my OC's Thyme and Soup :3

1. If you could change one thing about yourself permanently what would it be? Realistically?

Thyme: I wish I wasn't so curious..all it did was harm me.. if I wasn't maybe I would have never touched the t̵̯̖̊̚ẖ̵̟͌̽i̶͙̯͂̀n̶̥̍͂g̴̨̢͌̌

Soup(I regret naming him that now it sounds so unserious😭): I hate my eyes. I hate how people stare at me. I wish I didn't have these nails I can never chop. I hate this lifeless hand I'm stuck with. I hate the holes in my legs I was born with. I just want to be normal.

But oh well! that probably won't happen so I'll just have to live with it!

2. What do you think your future will be like?

Thyme: if I just get out of this loop and the incense is destroyed..maybe everything will go back to how it was, I'll go to college, be with my partner, maybe I'll even get a job. I want to get out of here already..I don't want to stay here forever.

Soup: everything will probably just be the same as it always was . I'll just stay in these woods forever. It's not that bad.. most people suck anyway,. especially h̴̖̥̝̖̫̀͑̉͠ͅḭ̷̹̹̌͊͆͐̕͝m̵̹̈́̋. I'm better off like this. I don't want to...I don't want to experience t̸͈̻͓̱͓͕͈̠͈͙̓̏̅͂̀͒̔ḩ̵̮̟̼̤͛͛̊̚͜͝a̴̦̔͛͝t̵̛̮̯̲̩̟͉͇̥̉̎͗̈̒͊̂ again.. I'd rather..not talk about it! Thyme is nice I guess...but they just need to go home!! They have no need to assist me!! and they'll probably go off to the next ở̴̩̹̋̿ņ̵̲̪͛̂͒̀̈ę̷̨̩̠̳̲̏̑̂̚͝ in a few days anyway!!. I'll just be in my little cabin for the rest of time, and eventually I'll die!

3. Would you ever get tattoos/piercings? Or if you already have them, what are they?

Thyme: I mean, I wouldn't mind piercings and tattoos, but I'd rather not..I don't think my family would approve and I hate needles. And if I get one I'm worried i'd regret it . I don't want to make any more mistakes..

Soup: I do have a few tattoos! One of an orchid and hyacinth on my shoulders. I have my ears pierced. I would like a snake bite piercing if I can get one. I did get my stomach punctured once, not sure if that counts~

idk

tagging :3 @kitchenaidmixer02 @sillystringstar and anyone else who wants to! (no pressure!)

new questions!!:

Have you ever dyed your hair? If not, do you want to?

Who do you hate and why?

Where do you live? Do you like it?

OC Questionnaire

Thanks for this one, @leahnardo-da-veggie! We'll answer for Paris and Antonio today :D

If you could wish for one thing, what would it be?

Antonio: "Oh, I dunno. All my friends camping out in my huge house and myself cooking them dinner every night." Paris: "...For my mother to be comfortable enough to stop working herself to the bone."

What is your most treasured possession?

Antonio: "Eh. Possessions come and go. I guess my shoulder holster, because it's fitted to me, but I'm sure I could simply find another." Paris: "My violin."

Do you think you could win in a fight against your nemesis?

Antonio: "I have so many enemies...if I've learned anything recently it's that I need a little help. With my friends? Of course, we could." Paris: "My nemesis is cold weather and less work and cracked palms and hungry nights. I lose the battle every day."

Did NOT intend to answer the last one for Paris that way, but he seized ahold of me and wouldn't be silenced. So. Okay, edgelord. 🙄

I'll pass on the tag to @indecentpause @asher-writes @tragicheirs @sleepyowlwrites @writernopal and anyone else who sees this and wants to answer these new questions!

What does tomorrow look like?

Favorite color, and why?

Whom do you love the most?

[sysig]

is this where u take the requests? if not, apologies lol still learning tumblr, I WAS WONDERING IF MY VARGAS RELATED REQUESTOBER REQUEST COULD BE JAKE/NNY? i feel like jake/nny is SO looked past like its actually so cute, they could be doing anything THANK U IF THIS WAS THE WRONG PLACE SORRY MWAH MWAH X

Day 12 - Once you had one hole in your skin, you've had 'em all

[hecatesbroom]

Thanks to the lovely @the-eclectic-wonderer for tagging me in this tag game!

Bold & colour whatever applies to you:

i’m over 5'5 / i wear glasses or contacts / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i don’t often smile / resting bitch face / i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or and bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / i’ve never dated anyone / i have a best friend i’ve known for over five years / i am an only child

No pressure to participate of course, but I'm tagging: @roseeycreates-blog @alectothinker @srosehh @timelessbian @tvmilfs

[ryuseitai]

its come to my attention that i cant get my nose ring. out of my nose.

[fake-guns-blazing]

make sure you're sure which side you want it in before your appointment!! i couldn't make up my mind and had to pick on the spot, and it turned out fine but there's a chance i could've picked the "wrong" one and not been happy with it so yeah. just make sure you know

get pierced with titanium. it's better for sensitive skin and also less likely to get infected

my piercer, who is absolutely wonderful and very well-reviewed, generally recommends an 18 gauge for this type of piercing. you can always go down to a 20 gauge later if you want :)

the jewelry you're pierced with will probably have a longer post to accommodate for any swelling and allow for easier cleaning. i was pierced with an 8mm and find i like that length, but they can also adjust that about a month after you get pierced if needed.

cleaning... ONLY use saline spray. other things you might have to clean and prevent infection, like isopropyl alcohol, are too harsh. i used the briotech topical skin spray and found it worked great

a little bit of bleeding is normal. mine didn't bleed during the actual piercing, but it did for a few days afterward. it should probably stop after about a week; keep it clean!

BE GENTLE! try not to touch it except for cleaning, and when you do clean it, there's no need for twisting or pulling. a fresh piercing is technically an open wound so don't do anything to aggravate it if you can avoid it.

your piercer will tell you what to expect as far as healing time. mine was 3–4 months. during that time, you can't change the jewelry as doing so risks irritation, infection, and ultimately a longer healing time. all the more reason to choose jewelry you'll be okay with having to wear for a good while!

do expect your eyes to water lol. tear ducts, sinuses... it's all in your face and it's all connected, and when you interfere with your nerves like that, it's a natural response for your body to produce tears. but it really doesn't hurt that much at all

relax!

SO I MIGHT ACTUALLY SOMEHOW BE GETTING A PIERCING LIKE THIS… DOES ANYONE HAVE ANY ADVICE, WISDOM, TIPS, OR ANYTHING??

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

picking argenti up by the scruff of his neck and putting him in my knight blorbo pile

[famoussharkhairdoknight]

THE BEST FRIENDS RULE 9-JOBE BELLINGHAM

Part.1,Part.2,Part.3,Part.4,Part.5,Part.6,Part.7,Part.8,Part.10, Final Part.

When Jobe returned to Elena, he tried to keep a calm expression, but there was growing tension in his heart. He still had the memory of kissing you, and even if he didn’t want to make it too heavy, every second that passed seemed like the secret was getting harder to hide.

Elena stared at him with a gaze that betrayed an unsettling curiosity, as if she was trying to read every detail in his face. His hands were slightly crossed in front of him, and his stiff posture indicated that he was not going to let go so easily.

"Jobe," began Elena, in a tone that didn’t leave room for easy answers, "is there anything you need to tell me?"

Jobe stopped for a moment, his heart beat fast for an instant. There was a strange feeling in the air, a mixture of fear and nervousness. He tried to keep calm, but could not prevent the tension from being felt in his voice.

"What do you mean?" he replied with a forced smile, trying to look indifferent, but his gaze was slightly anxious. "What’s going on?"

Elena looked at him carefully, her piercing eyes that seemed to analyze every word, every gesture. She was becoming increasingly aware that something was wrong, and her intuition was pushing her to seek an answer.

"I don’t know," Elena said slowly, "it’s just... I heard some things. And I didn’t like the fact that you were talking to Y/N earlier."

Jobe became more tense, but tried not to show it. "What are you talking about?" tried to mask the nervousness behind a facade of indifference. "Y/N is just a friend, Elena. There’s nothing between us."

But the words sounded unconvincing. Elena had noticed something in the way Jobe behaved, in the way he had avoided looking her in the eye for too long. Something was wrong, and she could feel it in her gut.

"If that’s so, then why are you acting so strange?" he asked, his look increasingly accusatory. "You’re not telling me everything, Jobe. Something is wrong. And I know you’re hiding something."

Jobe sighed, trying to find a way out of the situation. "Elena, I’m telling you the truth. Nothing strange is happening. I was just talking to Y/N, that’s all."

But Elena didn’t seem convinced. His face had become more serious, and his mind was running fast trying to put together the pieces of that puzzle he could not understand. The tension between them was palpable, as if every word was a game to mask what was really happening.

"You don’t seem convinced either," said Elena, crossing her arms. "Jobe, if there’s something you’re hiding from me, I want to know. I don’t like it when you treat me like I’m stupid."

Jobe was silent, his hands nervously passing through her hair. He could not find an answer that would have reassured her. His heart was beating in his chest, as he tried desperately to hide the truth that could destroy everything.

"There’s nothing, Elena. I swear to you," he said finally in a lower voice, but his mind knew that he wasn’t telling the truth.

Elena did not settle for that answer. She came even closer, looking him straight in the eye. "I don’t believe you, Jobe. And I don’t want to hear excuses this time."

The silence that followed was heavy, as if the world around them had stopped. Jobe knew that Elena was beginning to understand, that she was putting the pieces together. But at that point, there was no way out. Those words struck Jobe like a fist. His heart began to beat wildly, and his mind filled with panic. He had tried to hide everything just to avoid such a situation, but now Elena was putting him back against the wall.

"Elena, you’re overreacting," she started, but her voice was shaking. "I and y/n don’t... I mean, she’s your sister. You know, right? There’s nothing... special between us."

Elena looked at him intensely, trying to figure out if he was lying. "Then why is it that every time you disappear it’s always when she’s around? And why every time you look at each other it feels like there’s something you don’t want to tell me? Jobe, tell me the truth."

Jobe’s anxiety reached its climax, and in a desperate attempt to convince her, he made a mistake that he knew he could not make right. " y/n? She’s just a spoiled, arrogant girl! All her sarcasm, all her attitude... do you really think I can feel anything for her? It’s just a game for her, like everything else! I’m not stupid, Elena."

The words came out of his mouth too sharp, too fast to stop them. Jobe soon realized what he had said, but the damage was done. In the silence that followed, the door of the courtroom opened.

You were there. You didn’t know how long you had been listening, but your eyes clearly said it: you heard everything. For a moment, your face betrayed an emotion, a deep wound that was reflected in your eyes, but it recovered almost immediately. In a blink of an eye, you had already put on your mask of coldness and sarcasm.

"Wow, Jobe. What a statement of affection," you said, in a tone that exuded indifference. "Really touching. You have a talent for making a girl feel special." You stepped into the room, your gaze pointed at him with a frosty coldness. " Don’t worry, I won’t bother you with my arrogant presence anymore."

Then you turned to Elena, with a cold and ironic smile. "I hope you’re happy, little sister. You always wanted your own Jobe, and it looks like you did." Your voice was sharp, but the pain hidden was not difficult to sense for those who really knew you.

Before Jobe could say anything, you turned around and left the room with a firm step, leaving them both alone.

Elena seemed relieved, as if her world had been balanced. "See? It was just a misunderstanding. y/n has always been like this: she enjoys playing with people, but it never lasts." He looked at Jobe with a light smile. " Now everything can go back to normal, right?"

But Jobe didn’t answer. His gaze was fixed on the door where you had just gone out. Guilt was eating him up. He said those words only to protect your secret, but there was nothing that could justify the pain it caused you. The image of your wounded eye kept tormenting him, and the knowledge that you had ruined everything made him feel miserable.

"Jobe?" asked Elena, noticing her silence.

He looked down, unable to look at her. "Yes... sure," she murmured, but her voice was empty. In his heart, he knew that he had lost something precious.

Jobe remained silent, the weight of his words still in mind. Every moment that passed, the remorse grew, and the image of you leaving the room with that cold mask did not stop tormenting him.

He realized how much he had ruined everything, in a desperate attempt to defend your secret. He had ended up hurting the very person he cared about most, and now he felt trapped between Elena’s disappointment and the pain he had caused you.

Elena, ignoring her upset expression, seemed happy to have made things clear. "See, Jobe? It was just a game after all. You don’t have to worry about her, she’s not worth it."

But those words sounded empty and meaningless to him. He did not want to hear them, because in his heart he knew that it was he who had made the game too painful a reality.

"Elena... I need some air," he said finally, unable to bear the weight of the conversation. Before she could say anything else, she walked away from the room.

Jobe wandered the halls, trying to find a way to make up for it. Every step he took brought him back to the same conclusion: he had lost an important part of himself in trying to protect what was most dear to him.

---

The week that followed was a real hell for Jobe. Every day at school he saw you, but you became like an unreachable shadow. You didn’t even look at him, not even a sarcastic joke, nothing. It was as if he no longer existed for you, and this icy silence hurt him more than any word.

Jobe felt the weight of your absence, that void he could not fill. Even Elena had noticed his gloomy mood, but every time she tried to cheer him up, he just answered her carelessly, his thoughts always turned to you.

Every night he tormented himself, thinking about the way he had hurt you. He saw your broken look, that pain hidden behind your forced indifference. He wanted to talk to you, explain that those words were not real, that he had only said it to protect your secret. But he lacked courage, and every time he tried to approach, your cold and distant gaze blocked him.

Once, when you were passing by him in the corridor, he tried to stop you. He opened his mouth to call you, but you had looked up without the slightest emotion and had continued, leaving him there, powerless and frustrated.It was clear by now that ignoring him was your new weapon, and you were hitting right at the heart, even without uttering a single word.

But the real torment came when Jobe went to Elena’s house. Every time you entered the room, it was a struggle not to stare at you. It seemed like you were doing it on purpose: you wore short skirts that left your perfect legs uncovered, or dresses that highlighted your curves. You were often preparing to go out, spraying that coconut and vanilla scent on you that made Jobe sick - not because he didn’t like it, but because he knew it was an irresistible lure for everyone who would meet you.

One evening, Jobe was on the couch with Elena working on a school project, but his mind was elsewhere. You had just passed them, wearing a black fitted dress with your back uncovered. The high heels made their click-click sound on the floor as you walked towards the entrance. Jobe could not help but follow you with his eyes.

When you stopped in front of the mirror to get your hair done, Jobe noticed how the dress glided perfectly over your body. It was too much. " Do you really have to go out like this?" he found himself thinking, even though he knew he had no right to say that.

You didn’t even look at him, but you seemed to know he was watching you. You smiled at yourself, probably satisfied with how much you could torment him without even talking to him.

"Jobe?" Elena reminded him of reality, noting his distraction. "Are you connected or not? I asked you to calculate this part."

"Huh? Yeah, sorry," he stuttered, trying to concentrate on the paper in front of him. But the thought of you coming out and probably being surrounded by guys ready to try it made him crazy.

Shortly after, you went back to the living room to get your bag. Jobe couldn’t help himself. "Where are you going tonight?" asked, trying to sound random but failing miserably.

You looked at him for a moment, your cold and emotionless gaze. " I don’t think it’s any of your business," you replied, with a dry and distant tone. Then you turned to Elena. "I’ll be back late. Don’t wait up."

Before you left, however, you stopped at the threshold and gave Jobe one last look, a look he could not decipher. Perhaps there was a hint of disappointment, perhaps just coldness. Then you left, leaving him there with a sense of emptiness that seemed to not want to leave him.

Elena, unaware of the tension, chuckled. "Forget it. It’s always like that when she prepares to go out. She has to be mysterious."

Jobe didn’t answer. Inside, remorse and frustration mixed in an explosive cocktail. Seeing you go away like that, knowing that others could have what he had lost, was slowly wearing him out.

That evening, Jobe stayed at Elena’s house longer than necessary, trying to finish the project with a concentration now almost non-existent. But every time he looked down at the paper, he saw only the image of you in that dress, your perfume that seemed to still float in the air.

Elena noticed his agitation and threw a curious glance at him. "All right, Jobe? You’re acting strange tonight."

"Yes, of course," he replied quickly, forcing a smile. But Elena didn’t seem convinced, and she looked at him with her frown.

"Are you sure? Since Y/N has come out, you seem even more distracted," he said, looking at him suspiciously.

Jobe shrank, trying to mask the annoyance. "I’m just tired, and this project is a nightmare," he lied.

Elena sighed, dropping the subject. But, inside, Jobe knew he would not find peace.

Later, as he returned home, his thoughts flooded his mind in a whirlwind of emotions. He saw that scene in slow motion: your icy look, the way you ignored him with indifference, and that sentence - "I don’t think it’s any of your business."

He was used to your sarcasm and enigmatic attitude, but now he seemed different, more sharp, like a blade that stuck right in his heart. Jealousy and remorse devoured his soul, making it difficult even to sleep that night. He kept wondering where you were, who was with you, if you were laughing with someone like you used to laugh with him.

The next day, as she walked through the school hallways, she saw you ahead surrounded by friends who laughed at your jokes. You seemed quiet, even carefree, and Jobe felt a thick of envy growing inside him. He missed seeing you so close, feeling next to you, knowing that your gaze was reserved for him.

That farce was becoming untenable

[gothsuguru]

let it be known…. bestie!sukuna does a killer winged eyeliner

[hella1975]

got myself a fake septum hoop thinking it would be a very easy compromise in me and my mum’s ongoing battle but did not account for how much id like it

[touyasdoll]

I think that Hawks is super into alternative people.

Like I think he sees someone with a haircut that’s a little out there or piercings or full sleeves of tattoos or covered in chains and studs and it makes his brain buzz a little. He sees someone who isn’t afraid to go against “the norm” and he’s immediately drawn to them.

Because he’s the model hero. He’s always doing what’s right. Doing what’s expected of him. He’s charming and personable and everyone loves him, but it’s a show. It’s pomp and circumstance. The Commission molded him to be this way and he knows that, but it’s not like he can just stop now. He can’t go against their expectations for him.

However, he can and does pursue these people. He can’t help it. He’s fascinated by them. He wishes that he could do what they do. The most he can get away with is wearing some flashy jewelry every once in a while. He wants to feel the vibration of a tattoo gun on his bicep. He wants wants to wear something that’ll make people stop and stare and not just because he’s a famous hero.

He just wants to experience little doses of freedom and when he meets you, he feels like maybe he finally can.

[mugwot]

hm