#I know I have talked about this in the past and past couple of days but I keep seeing stuff here that makes me really mad

[starboye]

how i met roommate!vinnie hacker

you and him both needed to find a new place to stay after having to downgrade to a place for affordable for the california prices that were currently rising, meeting him at an open house for a very nice place, there was great space (a little to much if you ask me)

and after talking to each other for some time you both thought wouldn't it be such a great idea to just be roommates and split rent to make it more affordable, although maybe vinnie was in for a little something more with the way he was checking you out but maybe you're just imagining things

when moving in you both set some pretty easy rules, you both cleaned up, whats yours was yours and whats his was his, and if you make a mess clean it up, it was pretty easy going for a couple of months until you started to see a shift in vinnie, he wanted to be around you always, asking you to hang out with him or just talk with him

you didn't find it weird at first since you both lived under the same roof so you might as well get to know each other better, that was until some days you'd come home to hear him jerking off with the door to his room wide open, like he wanted you to find him or he'll wear pants that would show the outline of his meaty cock

very rarely although sometimes even he'd walk past you and slap or grab your ass then play it off as a joke he usually does with friends, that was until one night when he came home drunk out of his mind and started mumbling about how much he wanted to fuck you, how you looked so sexy and he jerked off to the thought of you every night

so was it really wrong you ended up having sex with him, it was just a little one night stand, that then turned into another night... and another... and another but can we really blame you, he's just so hot and that cock is to good to give up

so you both ended up making it a roommates with benefit kind of arrangement but if anyone asks vinnie what you guys are he'll tell them you're dating

[glossdebut]

study break | MYG

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Yoongi was an extremely effective tutor, until he wasn’t. As it turns out, dating the person who is singlehandedly responsible for bringing up your Fundamentals of Music Theory grade isn’t the smartest move in the world. 

✧ TAGS: college au, smut, fluff

✧ WARNINGS: oral (f. receiving), vaginal fingering, slight overstimulation

✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: okay, so this is NOT price of fame chapter two, nor is it the seokjin fic that i’ve been teasing for weeks. this is instead a secret third thing, inspired by my own post that has been living rent free in my brain for the past couple of days. i promise POF2 and the seokjin fic are both coming, but i had to get this out before i lost my damn mind. not beta read, so feel free to inform me of any mistakes i missed. P.S. i know the header isn’t debut yoongi, don’t fucking @ me about it!! i had this photo on hand ):

✧ WORDCOUNT: 2.2k words

Yoongi was an extremely effective tutor, until he wasn’t.

As it turns out, dating the person who is singlehandedly responsible for bringing up your Fundamentals of Music Theory grade isn’t the smartest move in the world. 

Things were so much easier when you—wrongfully—assumed he was an asshole. At least then, the arrangement was clear: you met him in the library, tried not to get annoyed at what a know-it-all he seemed to be for an hour, and then went back to your dorm with a slightly easier method of memorizing the circle of fifths under your belt. It went on like that for weeks. Quick and effective, mostly painless.

But then, when awkward small talk developed into genuine interest, you got to know him.

You learned that the reason he never takes notes in class is because he doesn’t have to. He taught himself all of the basics of music theory years ago, could’ve tested out and moved on to a more advanced class, but he wanted an easy A in his course load. You learned that he’s a classical piano major. He likes it just fine, but it’s really a means to an end. You learned that he writes his own raps, performs them at underground shows with a group of friends some weekends, that that’s what he really wants to do. You learned that he’s not an asshole and he’s just shy, that he’s been working up the courage to ask you out all semester.

You learned even more about him on your first date.

Such as: he’s the self-proclaimed master of grilling meat, and he’ll load up your plate for you before he even thinks of feeding himself. He may act like he’s not interested in going to the noraebang, but with just the slightest bit of insistence from you he’ll fold like a piece of paper. He thinks it’s cute when you snatch his snapback right off of his head and put it on your own. Even cuter when you fumble through a verse of Epik High’s ‘Love Love Love,’ squealing happily when he joins in. 

And: he kisses like he’s got something to prove. Knows all the right ways to use his tongue. Makes a low noise in the back of his throat when you do something he likes. Isn’t the slightest bit shy about pulling you into his lap, nor about slipping his hand into your panties right there, Epik High forgotten in favor of making you cum around his skilled fingers. 

So. Yeah.

Yoongi is no longer an effective tutor, because instead he is a fucking distraction.

You’re supposed to be studying. You had been studying, both of you putting up a valiant effort for a full hour and a half. But just as you’d gotten a firm grasp on the seven musical modes—Ionian, Dorian, Phrygian, Lydian, Mixolydian, Aeolian, Locrian—-Yoongi was whining, insisting on taking a break. You tried to put up a fight, but you’re especially weak when Yoongi gets all sulky, soft pink lips pulled into a pout.

Notecards tossed aside, your fifteen minute study break quickly devolves into half an hour of making out on Yoongi’s bed. As soft music filters into his dorm room from his laptop, you lose track of time with his tongue sliding against yours, the occasional sting of his teeth on your bottom lip because he knows you like it. When you feel his erection pressed against your hip it quickly becomes very clear that you’re both done studying for the time being.

The way Yoongi kisses you never fails to make you crazy. His lips on yours are gentle but commanding at the same time, his hands in your hair holding your head exactly where he wants it as he licks into your mouth like he owns it. When he pulls away, you barely have a chance to catch your breath before he’s trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. Your hips rock up against his, desperate for friction. 

“Baby,” Yoongi murmurs against your skin. His hands slide down from your hair to gently tug at the waistband of your jeans, an index finger circling teasingly around the button. “Wanna eat you out. You want that?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, gasping when he nips at the underside of your jaw. Your voice is high, needy, foreign to your own ears. He’s good at that—at pulling sounds out of you that you didn’t know you could make.

He wastes no time in peeling your jeans down your legs, tossing them off the bed and out of his way. Yoongi likes to have as much space as possible when he eats you out, you’ve learned. He likes to take his time, spread you out as much as he can on his shitty dorm-provided twin size mattress. Just because he can make you cum in record time—and he can—doesn’t mean he likes to. Not when he’d much rather drag it out, savor you in every imaginable way until you can’t take it anymore. 

You know you’re in for it when he doesn’t take your panties off right away. Instead, when he settles between your thighs, all he does is look for a moment, his gaze laser-focused on the growing wetness seeping through the cotton. 

It lasts long enough that you start to squirm, his eyes flicking up to meet yours at the sudden movement.

“A-are you…?” you start, but you trail off, suddenly feeling way too fucking shy for something you’ve done with him more times than you can count at this point. 

“Yeah,” he hums, looking up at you with an amused smirk. “Yeah, I’m getting to it, sweetness. I just wanted to look at you for a second. Is that okay?”

You shiver, swallowing thickly as you nod.

“You sure?” he teases, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, so close to where you want him. “You don’t have anywhere better to be?”

“Shut up, Yoongi,” you complain, sitting up for a moment to flick him on the forehead.

“Yah, so disrespectful,” he admonishes with a bite right where he’d just kissed. “I’m just playing. I know you don’t wanna be anywhere else.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “I don’t,” you agree, suspicious. He’s up to something.

“No, you don’t,” Yoongi hums knowingly, holding your gaze as he presses a kiss right to your clit. It makes your breath hitch, even with your panties subduing the feeling. “Because you love the way I eat this pussy, don’t you, baby?”

The answer is yes, of course. Yoongi always makes you feel so good no matter what he’s doing, but eating you out is definitely where he excels. But something about how cocky he’s being makes something stir inside of you—-makes you feel a little bold, a little mean. 

“When you actually get around to it, yeah.”

Yoongi chuckles darkly, snapping the waistband of your panties against your hip. When he lifts his head his eyes are all pupil. “It’s like that, huh?” he asks, his tongue running over his teeth.

“Maybe,” you say, goading.

He clicks his tongue, dipping down to lick a broad stripe over your pussy without any warning. When he reaches your clothed clit, he wraps his lips around it and sucks hard, tearing a surprised moan from you.

“F-fuck!” Your fingers tangle in his hair, desperate for something to hold on to, but the overwhelming pleasure is gone as quickly as it came.

“Such a brat,” Yoongi mumbles, sinking his teeth into the softness of your inner thigh again, harder this time. “Just wanted to take my time, treat you nice. But if you want it like this, fine.”

Mercifully, his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties. He roughly drags them down your legs until they’re thrown onto the floor, out of sight just like your jeans.

You gasp when his fingers instantly slide over your slippery cunt, making you gasp. “You get this wet just from pissing me off?” he scoffs, and you shake your head. 

“N-no,” you whimper.

“No?” Yoongi asks, tilting his head at you with a smirk. You feel like you’re going to die when his fingers find your clit, rubbing in punishing little circles. “Tell me what gets you this wet, then, baby.”

“You!” you moan. It feels embarrassingly fast, but you’re close. You’re gonna cum before he even gets his mouth on you properly. Maybe that’s his goal. “You, fuck, Yoongi.”

“That’s right,” he purrs. “You gonna cum already, pretty girl? Before I even get to taste you?”

Oh, he knows exactly what he’s doing. Motherfucker. 

You wouldn’t be able to protest even if you wanted to, your brain already succumbing to the pleasant buzz of your impending orgasm. All you can do is squirm and rock up against Yoongi’s fingertips, completely at his mercy.

“That’s okay,” Yoongi continues, unbothered as you shake and moan in front of him. “I know you can give me another one. Go ahead, sweetness. Cum for me.”

Your release tears through you, sudden and intense and all-consuming. You’re sure there are words coming out of your mouth, but between the heat spreading through your body and the static buzzing in your ears, you honestly have no idea what they could be. Yoongi’s fingers keep rubbing at your abused clit until you’re trembling, gasping for breath between moans.

“Filthy girl,” he hums. Whatever you said must’ve been good, because he sounds almost proud of you as he runs his hands over your thighs. “You gonna let me take my time now?”

“Yes,” you gasp, still reeling from your orgasm. Yoongi taking his time is exactly what you need right now, or else you’ll go into complete overdrive. Absently, you think that was his plan all along, but that thought melts away as soon as Yoongi dips down and delves his tongue into your cunt, slow and thorough. 

Your brain? Empty. Brain so fucking empty.

“Shit,” he groans against you, his voice so low and gravelly you can feel the vibration of his words against your pussy. “You always taste so fucking good after you cum for me.”

You thread your fingers through his hair again, moaning long and low as he spreads you apart with his thumbs and dives back in. His nose nudges just slightly against your clit as he licks into you, the barely-there contact making your eyes roll back in your head.

“Yoongiiii,” you moan, earning an appreciative moan from him as he dips his tongue into your entrance.

Your first orgasm took you by surprise, but you can tell already that this one is going to be a slow burn, tendrils of heat that never really got a chance to fade spreading through your body, adagio.

As promised, Yoongi takes his sweet time. He sets an agonizing rhythm: licking into you, dragging his tongue up your pussy, gently sucking your clit into his mouth, over and over again until you’re practically a puddle on his mattress.

“Feels so fuckin’ good,” you mewl, your thighs shaking around his head. You’d blush at the sounds he’s producing between your legs, slurping and sucking at you, if you weren’t so fucked out. Instead, all it does is turn you on even more, make you even wetter for him. 

Yoongi pulls back, huffing a laugh through his nose. “I know, baby,” he murmurs soothingly. “You ready to cum again?”

Wordlessly, you nod, squeezing your eyes shut. Two fingers tease at your entrance, getting nice and wet before Yoongi slides them in, and just like that, you’re ready to burst.

“Nnngh—fuck, ‘m so fucking close,” you slur, grasping at his hair as he pumps his fingers into you.

“Give it to me,” he says, before sucking your clit into his mouth again and making stars burst behind your eyelids.

His fingers curl just right, and then you’re moaning brokenly, bucking up against his fingers and mouth as you cum again.

It feels like it lasts forever. Yoongi moans around your clit as you clench around his fingers, squeezing tight tight tight as heat crashes over you in waves. You feel his fingers withdraw, and then his tongue is fucking into you again, licking every last drop he’s earned from you.

He only breaks away when you’re pushing at his head, overstimulated and spent.

“God, you’re so sexy,” he rumbles, climbing up the bed so he’s on top of you, bracing himself on his elbows. He’s one to talk. He always looks so good like this—swollen lips and dark eyes, the bottom half of his face slick from eating you out so fucking well. “You can just cum and cum for me, can’t you?”

“You are insane,” you breathe, grasping at the strings of his sweatshirt to pull him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. 

Yoongi chuckles, pulling away just to press his forehead against yours. “You like it,” he says.

“I like you,” you correct, closing your eyes. “Even though I’m going to fail my final because of you.”

That earns a real laugh from Yoongi, his nose scrunching. “You’re not gonna fail.”

“I am,” you say, nodding sagely. “But it’ll be worth it.”

“That so?” He presses another kiss to your lips, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“Mhmm,” you hum. “Besides, I’ll just find a better tutor next semester when I have to retake.”

That earns you a sharp jab of Yoongi’s fingers to your side, but he���s got one of those gummy smiles on his face as you squeal under him, so no harm done.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this fic! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future fics!

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[moonstruckme]

hi love I like all ur fics!!! Ur most recent emt Maurader made me realize tho we don't always get to see Sirius being vulnerable so what about a fic where may be he's having an off day? Or runs into a cousin and they completely ignore him and he tries to act like it doesn't bother him and just reader comforting him and giving him space

Thank you for requesting angel!

cw: allusion to past abuse, discussion of toxic workplace dynamics

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Sirius gets home from work early. You’re in the bedroom, stomach-down on the mattress with your book in front of you. You hear the front door open and come out to greet your boyfriend, but your smile falls when you see him. 

Sirius’ face is red. He doesn’t usually color when he’s upset, so you take it to mean something that he has now. He steps on the back of his shoe a couple of times before he manages to get it off, stomps on the back of the other even more harshly. You think he might be shaking. 

“Sirius?” 

He flinches. Turning around, his expression twinges with some mix of emotions at seeing you, too muddled to parse apart. He seals them all away quickly. 

You take a step towards him. “You okay?” 

“Yeah.” It comes out hoarse. Sirius clears his throat. “Yeah. Just a shit day at work.” 

“You’re home early,” you note. 

Sirius nods curtly. You think maybe that’s that, but his expression is conflicted. 

“Do you wanna sit down?” you ask gently, going to the couch and hoping he’ll follow. He does. It’s a challenge not to reach for his hand, to pull him closer or offer some kind touch, but the stiffness about Sirius’ frame hints that it may not be well received right now. 

When he’s still silent after a moment, you say, “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I could make tea and we could just relax.” 

Sirius shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he says, tersely, like he might be trying to convince himself more than you. “I think I’m probably going to be fired, though.” 

You feel your eyebrows go up. 

“I…you know how I got a new boss a few weeks ago?” 

You nod mutely. 

“Right, well, she’s got a temper. At least a couple times a week I’ll hear her shouting at someone in her office and she’s already managed to fire from almost every team.” Your dread mounts as Sirius goes on, speaking faster now that he’s on a roll. “She called me in after lunch. I fucked up something in a report—I hadn’t checked it and it had gotten sent out with the error—and she was pissed. She screamed at me—really screamed, stood up and got red in the face and all that—for probably ten minutes before she sent me back to my desk. And I just came home.” Sirius lets out a dry chuckle. “If she doesn’t fire me, I might quit.” 

“You should, baby.” Your voice pitches with dismay, hurt and outrage for him warring inside you. You take a chance and reach for his hand. Sirius fits his fingers between yours instinctively, something seeming to loosen in him at the touch. “I can’t believe she really shouted at you. No one deserves that, least of all for a silly error in a report. She should be fired for that.” 

Sirius gives you a little smile, but it dissolves at the edges, watery. A cavity opens in your chest as his eyes grow shiny. 

“Baby.” 

He shakes his head, jaw clenched. Blinking. “Sorry,” he says roughly. “I never used to do this.” You feel your face pinch with sympathy. He means cry, you know. Sirius as an adult is more emotional than he was as a child, but you still rarely see him cry. “She just—she sounded just like my mother.” 

Realization comes like a blow to your middle. “Oh, my love,” you say breathlessly, moving to put your arms around him. 

Sirius usually hugs with his whole being. He throws himself into it, with force and purpose and his own rough brand of caring. So you’re used to letting him take the lead, but now, when his arms come around you hesitantly, you’re the one who applies the pressure. And Sirius melts against you. 

You cup the back of his neck in one hand and squeeze between his shoulders with the other, imagining your love pouring out of you and into him through your palms. Sirius is quiet, but you feel a couple of hot tears transfer from his chin to your shirt. You worry he’s holding his breath. 

“Sirius.” You say his name with all the tenderness you can summon, afraid of him hearing echoes of his mother’s voice. “I’m so sorry, lovely. You never, ever deserve to be shouted at that way.” 

“Even if I told you I left your favorite mug at my office?” he jokes weakly. 

You let him go. There aren’t many tears to brush off his cheeks, and you make short work of them, soothing your thumbs over his face just for the sake of it. Surprisingly, his complexion is less agitated than it had been when he’d come in. He was holding it in, you realize. 

“Don’t ever let me speak to you like that,” you say.

Sirius’ expression sobers. “You wouldn’t. I know you wouldn’t.” 

“Really. Leave me if I talk to you like that, I’m serious.” 

“No, that’s me.” 

One side of your mouth tips up without your consent. “Bad joke.” 

Sirius mirrors you, grinning halfheartedly. “You think you’d have learned to evade it by now.” 

You gather that he wants things to be light now. That’s okay. You know Sirius has a difficult time with the truly heavy emotions—anger is an instinct for him, but tears and sorrow he’s never known what to do with. You’ll talk about it more over time, in bits and pieces where he’s comfortable. And just because you’re letting it go now doesn’t mean you’re done coddling him. 

You let your hands coast down from his face to either side of his neck, massaging gently the tension in his shoulders. “Did you really bring my favorite mug to work?” 

Sirius’ smile goes a tad sheepish. “Yes?” 

“Why would you do that?” 

“Because it makes me think of my most favorite sweetheart when I get coffee from the break room,” he says, smarmy. “Also, it was the first one I saw when I went to grab one from our cabinet.” 

You smile at him. Sirius pretends at facetiousness, but you know the first reason had been the genuine one. 

“What,” he asks, “you didn’t notice it was missing?” 

“No, I did. I only thought you’d broken it.” 

“And you weren’t going to say anything?” 

“What’d be the point?” 

A soft, intimate look comes over Sirius’ face. “I don’t deserve you,” he says, gray eyes raw and quiet, “do I?” 

You match his tone. “Of course you do, lovely. You deserve better than me, it’s just I’m what you’ve got.” 

“Mm, there’s another way you’re not allowed to speak.” He wraps his arms around you, pressing a heavy-fond kiss to your hairline. “I won’t have any of that talk.” 

“I’ll trade you that for the jokes about your name.” 

“No, I don’t think so. You’re going to have to work a little harder, doll, I’m not giving those up so easily.”

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for anon

Request: Actually if you wouldn’t mind doing a spicier piece with werewolf Tobias (or Toby), that would be amazing! Specifically where he finds out vampire reader is self-conscious about her chubby body, and she is really into snuggling until he pops a boner during movie night?

A/N: This is part 2 of this other commission.

Expert in pussy-ology

Werewolf (Toby) x vampire chubby fem!reader || groping, dom/sub (very lightly), oral sex || tw: internalized fatphobia

Since that day in the cafeteria, things had been more than great between you two. He always picks you up after your shift, and usually stops in the middle of it to order chocolate (no more coffee for him). He sends you silly messages during the day and makes you smile so much that your coworker called you out on looking creepy because of the too big fangs and red eyes. You laughed it off, too happy to even care.

But not everything is as good as your blooming relationship. You had been craving intimacy, the kind of intimacy you had in the alleyway. You made out a couple times over the past few weeks, but nothing as heated as that day, and he didn’t even try to grope you again. And it’s bringing back all the bad memories and self-doubt about yourself.

You’ve been trying to watch the movie, you really are, but the truth is all your focus is in the werewolf cuddling you and his warm body against every inch of your body. He’s snuggling against you so tightly you can feel every breath he takes, almost every beat of his heartbeat. You always run cold, but his warmth is so welcomed can’t avoid a sigh every time you melt into his side.

The movie is playing and he’s nuzzling into your neck, giving you soft kisses every once in a while as he watches the movie. Your brain is far beyond though, you can’t stop noticing his body, his tiny movements, the way he snuggles into you tighter and tighter, his arm around your middle, his hand over your soft belly. You can’t stop yourself from wanting to suck in your breath so there’s less tummy to hold, but you know he wouldn’t like that.

But it’s not only that, it’s also the fact that you want it to go further, so much further. You want to suck his cock, or him to eat you out. Or maybe fuck, or ride him... but you don’t know how to start that conversation and you don’t even know if he would be okay with that. You know he said he didn’t mind you being chubby, but the tiny voice in your head is always talking, always saying all the wrong things that make you self-conscious and worried about your body.

You struggle in your position in front of him, trying to get some room so he doesn’t have to feel your body if he doesn’t want to, but he grunts and pulls you back against his front. You both take a deep breath in when you feel what he’s packing.

“I- I’m sorry. Sorry. Sorry. I know you aren’t ready for this. S- sorry,” Toby stutters as he pulls his hips away from your body, making you whine. He stops in his tracks. “Do you- Do you want this?” He presses his hard on against your ass once again and you whimper, making him growl under his breath. “Fuck, if you don’t want this please say so, you sound so good my brain is going to short-circuit anytime.” He doesn’t pull back anymore, but you are biting your lip with your pointy fang, not sure how to say what’s in your mind.

You turn around in his arms, your neck almost aching looking up at that weird angle, but you don’t care. You need to look at him to have this conversation. “I didn’t know if you wanted this,” you confess in a low tone.

“What? I’ve been jerking off frantically every time I go home after meeting you,” he blurts out and instantly covers his mouth as if he wasn’t trying to say that.

You giggle. “Have you?”

“Ye- yes,” he stutters, a pretty blush covering his cheeks. He looks delightful like that, all his blood running to his face and making you all kinds of hungry.

“But my body…” You start.

“What about it?” He asks when you stop. There’s tears building in your eyes threatening to fall and you don’t know how to say what you want to say.

But you just go for it. “I know I’m not thin, and my tummy is all soft, and my thighs are too big and…” You swallow around the knot in your throat. “My past boyfri-” You don’t get to finish that thought before he covers your mouth and growls so loud your body vibrates.

“Do not talk about other partners when you are with me,” he cuts with a growl. You look at him with uncertainty and vulnerability. He sighs and leans down, kissing your forehead as he says: “I told you you were my best fantasy came to life, and I meant it, moonlight,” he kisses your nose as you giggle between choked breaths.

“Really?” You ask as a tear runs down your cheek. He wipes it away with his thumb and leans down for a quick peck.

“Yes. Now, let me prove it to you,” he says. You have super speed, but you barely see him before he’s manhandled you to your back and his body is between your thick thighs, he looks so good there that you can’t avoid the deep groan that leaves your throat. “Fuck, you sound so good, it’s driving me insane.” Toby’s eyes flash when he says it, and you know that if you had a heartbeat it would be going crazy. “Now, are you going to let me eat your pussy?” He asks, his tone is soft and almost pleading.

There’s only one possible answer to that: “Yes, please.” He doesn’t even respond, he tears through your clothes until he can access your pussy and launched for it like a starving man.

You groan, closing your eyes and throwing your head back as you chant his name. “Toby, Toby...”

“Eyes open, moonlight, I want you to see me enjoying my feast,” he orders.

His words sound filthy as fuck and when you obey and look down at him, half his face drenched in your desire and a shit eating grin on his lips, a groan escapes right from your chest. He looks obscene, and as soon as he drives right in, his eyes never leaving yours, you scream his name again, and your hands find his hair.

He grunts against your pussy and sucks harder on your clit, making you see stars even with your eyes wide open. His hands are everywhere, cupping your ass, groping your tits over your shirt, touching your tummy, pinching your thighs… He’s driving you slowly insane, and you can’t look away from his eyes as you moan like a whore.

He pulls away for a second, staring into your eyes trying to reach to your soul. “Use me, moonlight. Take your pleasure off me as I enjoy you fully.”

You groan again, his words driving you higher in your pleasure as you take his hair with both hands and start rubbing your pussy up and down his face. His nose hits the best place and his tongue is playing with you like an expert in pussy-ology. His fingers find your opening and he fucks into your tender pussy, curling them to hit your G-spot. You cry out and move your hips faster.

You can almost feel your orgasm at the tip of your fingers, you need it, you need it now. “Toby, Toby, please!” You beg even though you know you are the one in control. You pull at his hair harder, making him grunt against your clit as one of his hands gropes your boob, the other one helping you move your hips.

It takes you less than a minute to reach the peak of pleasure, screaming his name as you thrash under him, milking all your pleasure against his face. He grunts and finger-fucks you deeply, taking you to the next dimension. It’s one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had.

When you come back into yourself, he’s still between your legs, your thighs as earmuffs and his face all messy with your juices.

“Are you feeling confident in your body or do I need to fuck you senseless?” He asks, a bit breathless and with the biggest grin on his face. You can’t do anything but giggle.

[thatmexisaurusrex]

I think what really gets me is what the show is telling us through that breakup. That's what hurts the most.

It's that a queer person who's sad, who's alone, who's never had a stable family life; a queer person who's only gotten to a point where they're happy with who they are later in life; a queer person who yearns for a family, for love, for being someone's first choice but doesn't believe he can ever have those things; a queer person who has obviously been burned and believes that is the only outcome for him now; that no one would want him as family. That no one would love him enough to choose him first.

He walks out that door.

Alone. Scared. Spiraling. Reacting to trauma rather than Buck himself. It's seeing that and having the show tell us, yes, that's what he deserves. That's all he gets. He doesn't get a happy ending. He doesn't get good closure. He doesn't get to believe that someone wants him enough to fight for him.

Tommy was right all along.

All his fears were true and will be what he ends up with. Older queer people who want families and are scarred by their own past experiences don't get love or a family. They don't get a place to call home.

Then, you have Buck; Buck blindsided by the trauma; Buck seeing his entire six-month relationship fall apart and just letting it happen to himself again. Having yet another person in his life, in a moment of cowardice and pain, quietly and brokenly lash out that he couldn't believe Buck would actually take this seriously; that he couldn't believe that Buck would love him once the pedestal was gone and the shininess wore off. That, once again, Buck lets his relationship play out without any idea of how to be active in it. That someone Buck loves, that he thought about possibly marriage with one day, that he wants to live with, leaves him.

That Buck, once again, is abandoned.

That Buck can't know himself.

That the show wants to lean into lazy biphobic ideas and tell us, yes, that's what Buck deserves. The thriving relationship that he had crumbles within minutes because Buck doesn't get to be happy; how can he know what happiness is if he isn't playing the field? Because nothing he did before Tommy counted. Buck 1.0 didn't count. None of his previous relationships counted. Because they were all ladies, and how can you know if you've only been with one man?

Telling the audience that you can't be happy in a relationship if it's somehow a "first", despite everything pointing to the relationship being solid and good for Buck.

It is the worst possible scenario.

It is a nightmare for both Buck and Tommy.

Both messages are terrible for the audience.

There were so many ways they could have broken up and I would have been fine with it. I've talked about it before, but I was fine with Josh and Arnold breaking up in Please Like Me and I still love the show. I watched episodes with Josh and Arnold from Please Like Me as a comfort when I was reeling about this that first night! I was fine with Alexis and Ted breaking up on Schitt's Creek and I was still fine with the show. I was okay with Amelia and Kai breaking up and I'm still watching Grey's Anatomy. Because all of those breakups were understandable. They made sense. I can like couples and be okay with them not working out. And they're fictional. Fictional shit rarely hurts me, if ever. That's not my problem at all here.

It's how this happened. It's the message it signals to the audience. It's devastating. I'm still devastated by the choice. I've never felt this way about a breakup for two characters ever. The core of my grief and genuine hurt is what the show proves it believes in through this breakup. And that's what's hurt me.

[mammalsofaction]

A/N: Whoops, this came out a little more angsty than I originally planned.

Perry hates having to go to HQ.

Oh, he's got nothing against the building itself, and his relationship with most of his coworkers is fairly amicable. Perry just hates having to go there, since he generally prefers spending his free time (spare enough as it were) around family, and other assorted loved ones. There's almost nothing he needs to do at HQ that he couldn't fulfil in the lair beneath his house, or the office in his room, anyway. And shit always, always goes down when he has to spend more than 5 consecutive hours in his assigned office cubicle.

Of course, they key word to the first statement was "almost."

And predictably, the aforementioned shit he was waiting for strolls into his space half an hour past lunchbreak, slapping a couple of polaroids on top of his desk by his elbow.

Pinky waits patiently for Perry to give a damn, and Perry looks up warily when Pinky Garcia-Shapiro stays suspiciously quiet for a whole minute. Pinky gestures to the photos, and Perry takes a look, goes back to his computer, before realization hits him upside the head like a steel pole and shoves itself down the back of his spine, sitting him ramrod straight in his crappy office chair as he picks the first photo off the top of the deck.

Pinky's waiting with his eyebrows raised when Perry swirls around to face him fully. It's not what it looks like, Perry signs, and flinches when the look he receives in return is less than impressed.

Does that matter? Pinky signs sharply in return, instead of speaking aloud, which was the biggest sign if ever that Perry's not only screwed up, but he's screwed up bad. It meant that they're keeping this conversation on the down lower than low, and he owes his Pinky big time. Clint found these on the carnival security footage two days ago, and I had to talk him down from reporting to HR. I made sure he knows you owe him your life, and then some. Pinky continues, uncharacteristically serious. It's the most off-putting thing in this entire scenario. He's not Carl, Perry, not every intern in this company's all too happy about keeping their mouths shut about your goddamned crush. You took him to the pop shop? What were you thinking?

I was thinking it was an accident. And it was barely a date. Perry retorts sharply, hands stuttering on that last little tidbit. Wait, screw that, it wasn't a date at all. We were just-we were technically stalking Vanessa on her outing-

I'm not the goddamned Colonel, Perry. Pinky interrupts sharply, slicing his hand through the air. You don't have to make your excuses to me. It doesn't matter what it was, unless you're standing by Francis' desk when he has to answer for the shit leaking up the grapevine. It matters how it looks like. Perry, you don't need me to tell you to be-to be careful.

Perry grunts, slumping into the back of his chair, hands slapped over his eyes as he attempts to calm himself down. I know, he signs, one handed. I know, Pinky, I'm sorry. Thank you.

And he is sorry. He is as much grateful that Pinky caught it first, being the Chief of OWCA's digital security division, as well as that he had enough weight to throw around to stop these photos from leaking onto Francis' desk. Pinky didn't have to, but of course he did, because they were friends, and Pinky cared about him.

These last few years have been...hard. Harder, knowing Heinz was getting so ready to hang up his labcoat (at least in the evil sense of the word), a growth in character proportional to this terrifying, unnameable thing growing between them, full of weight and wonder and meaning.

It's made him reckless. And everyday that passes them by without having Heinz in his arms, it's getting harder and harder for Perry to remember why that's a bad thing.

Pinky sighs, squeezing his shoulder. "Hey," he says, out loud this time, so that Perry takes his hand off of his eyes to peek. "On the plus side, I've never seen the guy look so happy."

Perry feels his ears burning in embarrassment, and Pinky laughs, low and sincere.

"You guys look cute together." Pinky teases, and laughs when Perry swats at him, shoo-ing him out of the cubicle. He does leave, eventually, and Perry knows he owes the man lunch for at least the next two weeks, and taking over his next spare mission, at least.

He leaves the photos behind, and Perry picks them up, his hand reaching for the lighter he keeps on his lowest desk drawer to burn them over his wastepaper basket. They are likely the very last trace of such damning evidence of Perry's...Perry's fraternizing, too risky to keep around, and he has to burn them. He has to.

Heinz was caught laughing, in one of them, his hair ashen-grey around the edges from the debris of his latest failed Inator, but there was no sign of bitterness and regret in his features. Perry remembers how the wrinkles by his eyes had started to curl down his cheeks, like paper folded down the same joy-filled routes. Laugh lines. The photo could not capture the light in his eyes then; The setting sun had painted the slant of the pier a blood orange, but looking into Heinz's darling blue eyes was like looking into an eternal summer, evergreen.

They shared one drink, because Perry wasn't hungry, but Heinz wanted something sweet, and there wasn't anything Heinz wanted Perry didn't want to pay for. The two straws were a compromise, and the bartender had given them both a sly, knowing look Heinz had not understood, but Perry had. It took him hours to cool down the blush from his cheeks.

Heinz had called him cute.

In another photo, their heads are bent together, conspiring over Vanessa's love life, and Perry does not mistake their fingertips over the tabletop, his palms curling over the back of Heinz's own.

I've never seen the guy look so happy.

Damnit.

DAMNIT.

Fuck. Damn. Shit.

Perry throws the lighter back into its drawer with a vengeance, clutching the stack of photos like a lifeline. He slumps over his desk, burying his face into the crook of elbow to muffle a frustrated scream. Is this really how he was going to repay Pinky's concern? By shutting his eyes and spelling out his own doom, tucking the evidence of his own sins into his fucking wallet? Was he stupid?

(Is Heinz worth it?)

Yes, Perry knows, because the one person Perry could never rightly lie to was himself. Yes, he is.

I got the inspiration from this post

[t1red-twilight]

while you were sleeping

content/warnings: gn!reader, fluff, established relationship

summary: peter confesses something while he thinks you’re asleep.

word count: 0.5k

masterlist p. parker masterlist

you heard the window slide open and peter step inside. you did not feel inclined to move; the bed was much too comfortable. there was a soft rustling as he changed out of his suit and into his pajamas. (you silently hoped that he was wearing the matching ones you had bought together for christmas last year.)

a slight chill shivered up your spine as he pulled the sheets back and climbed into bed. you felt him fidget as he struggled to find a comfortable sleeping position. the sheets tugged as he continued to pull them up his body.

hopefully, he remembered to close the window this time. the last time, a couple days ago, he left it open and the room temperature had sunk to a brisk fifty-eight degrees by morning.

as the moments passed, his breathing slowed. you almost thought that he was asleep, until he started speaking again. “i love you,” he mumbled.

your eyes shot open. any sleep that you were being lulled back into was zapped from your body immediately. no one had said that yet. some sort of you was waiting for a perfect moment that might not even come. or, maybe you were too afraid of how he might respond. well, you wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.

you didn’t dare move, no matter how much you wanted to. he continued to speak: “did you know you pull your tongue between your teeth when you think? i did. i love that.” did he think you were awake?

“one of your knuckles cracks twice. your voice goes up in pitch and volume when you’re talking about something that you love. you prefer to have your feet up when you sit,” he continued. his tone insinuated that he wasn’t speaking to you, merely to himself. “i think i’m going to tell you. that i love you, i mean. i think it’s well past time.”

bingo. he thought you were asleep. you attempted to keep your breathing as still as possible, biting back a smile. god, how you loved him. how many times has he talked to himself, about you?

thinking back, it made sense. that he loved you. peter had all of your orders memorized, knew and enjoyed watching your favorite show, knew how your parents took their coffee.

maybe he knew, that you loved him. you tried to show how you felt in unspoken ways, like folding his socks in the very meticulous way he preferred. or, like how you made him tea when you could tell his body ached from swinging through the city.

peter scooted closer to you. the warmth from his body radiated through you. he slung an arm over your form, and kissed the crown of your head. when it seemed the dust had settled, you swallowed the nerves that had crawled up your throat.

you inhaled, but tried to keep your composure. “i love you too, pete.” now, you didn’t have spider-tingle-senses, or whatever they were, but you swore you could feel his heart cease beating.

his body stiffened. peter lifted his head off the pillow to look at you, only to be met with your closed eyes. “really?” his voice had quieted to a whisper. strange that he had had no clue that you were awake.

you opened an eye to look at him, a small smile playing on your face. “uh-huh.”

[suzukiblu]

Day fourteen of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. tw: mentions of past grooming/abuse prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think your life might be a little bit insane,” Tim says, now increasingly certain that Kon is just a living weirdness magnet and it is therefore his fault that every single Young Justice mission so far has been objectively buck-wild and borderline deranged. Previously he was just blaming the concentration of teenage superheroes with very different power sources and specialties and personalities all stubbornly jammed into one even more stubborn team, but “previously” did not include all the necessary data or any stories about gargoyle-riding supermodels possessed by dead gunslingers. 

Tim has heard some stories in the community, for sure, but that is a story.

“I mean, Hex and Grokk aren’t that weird, are they?” Kon asks with a shrug. “Not any weirder than the Event Horizon was, anyway.” 

“The what?” Tim asks, because Kon definitely said that like it was something’s name and not a metaphor for something or an actual event horizon. 

“Oh, sorry, the Event Horizon was this club I used to hit up with some buds,” Kon says as he snags three more grilled cheese(s?) off the stack and stacks them to bite through all three at once like some kind of unholy and incredibly greasy and buttery club sandwich or something. Tim is somehow morbidly fascinated, vaguely grossed out, and sort of charmed all at once. “It was always moving, was the thing, so there was this handstamp thing we all had that we used to teleport over whenever we wanted to party. Neverending space rave, basically, so you didn’t have to worry about hours or last call or anything. Club kinda got obliterated, though, so I actually dunno know if the teleport trick still works or where it’d send me if I tried usin’ it now?” 

It is definitely Kon’s fault that Mxyzptlk happened to them, Tim decides. 

“Oh, cool,” he says, and because after tonight he officially does not trust anyone who Kon has spent time with in a party environment, much less at an intergalactic rave–“Do you still hang out with them? Anybody I’d have heard of?” 

“Uh, not really. And . . . I don’t think so?” Kon shrugs. “Sparx, maybe you mighta. Otherwise it was Aura, Kaliber, Hero, and, uh–Half-Life. Also Hero’s dog was kinda around. Or maybe Hero was, like, Rex’s . . . uh, pet, or whatever? Or they were just roommates? Situation unclear there, honestly.” 

“How is that an unclear situation?” Tim asks with a frown, a little confused by that one. That’s not– 

“Rex was, like, this super-soldier war hero mystic type, and like, he could talk and whatever, so I don’t really get what was going on there,” Kon clarifies between bites of grilled cheese, which clarifies absolutely nothing. “I guess he was a WWII vet, but he drank from the Fountain of Youth or something? Also went to the moon once and used to be in the circus. Super-weird dude. Or dog, whichever.” 

. . . . . . it is definitely, definitely Kon’s fault that Mxyzptlk happened to them, Tim amends. 

“Never mind, I get it now,” he says, and Kon laughs, and then–hesitates, for a moment, and suddenly seems very interested in the last couple bites of his unholy abomination of a grilled cheese stack. 

“Hero was cool,” he says, his tone a little–off. Tim pauses himself, and wonders why. And also wonders if this “Hero” guy is actually somebody he needs to put on his supervillain hit list, considering. 

“Was that seriously his codename?” he asks, and Kon grins.

[damn-stark]

Chapter 29 A dot Targ. A dot Vel. (REPRISE)

Chapter 29 of Moonlight

A/N- Its good! I’m so proud!

Warning- talks of pregnancy, ANGST, fluff? violence, blood, swearing, and death. SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- 515-520

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*A FEW YEARS BACK*

“There. We drop from the top of this cliff and fall right into the water. There’s no rocks below, there’s no way to get hurt. It’s a straightforward jump that’s not high whatsoever.”

Perhaps it was easier for you to say it, you have jumped from the cliff multiple times already, but to your brothers, Daeron, and Helaena? For them, the jump from the small cliff is like being high in the sky and jumping off your dragon's backs. The big body of water that glimmers like gems against the sun's reign is dull and grey in their eyes, and the target is small and an unattainable feat.

“You can walk back down,” Aemond interjects and directs at his little brother. “That’s what Jacaerys and Lucerys are doing. You don’t have to jump if you don’t want to.”

Daeron steps forward an inch to drop his brown eyes on the body of water below and gulp with fear.

“We can hold hands and jump together,” Helaena offers her little brother. “That’s how her…” Helaena pauses and points at you and then points her eyes at Aemond standing beside you. “…and Aemond do it.”

Said boy looks away out of embarrassment but doesn’t argue because it’s true. Every time you come to the top to jump down you do it hand in hand. Never have you done it without each other—yet maybe today might be the day considering Aemond might want to show off to Aegon.

“Yes,” Daeron says shakily and peers over his shoulder before he lifts his hand off his side and starts to reach out for his older sister.

However, it’s in his attempt to seek support that suddenly Aegon sprints forward. “Don’t be such a coward!” Aegon exclaims. “You’re a man with balls not a girl with a cunt!”

Before you can stop him, he shoves past Aemond and you to throw his hands out and shove Daeron off the cliff.

“Aegon!” You snap and run to the edge, whilst Helaena lets out a shocked gasp, and Aemond trails after you.

“Why would you do that?” Aemond remarks to his brother as you all watch Daeron screaming from the top of his lungs before he hits the water with a big splash!

“What’s wrong with you?!” You exclaim and snap your eyes to Aegon, but he just flashes you a cocky smile before he walks back a few paces and then runs forward to jump off the cliff himself and land beside his brother.

“Jacaerys!” You call out as you keep your eyes on where Daeron hit the water. “Check on Daeron!”

Your brother shoots you a thumbs up and walks in the water to do as you asked, and luckily he doesn’t need to assist. Daeron resurfaces with a big gasp of air as he wipes his face.

“Daeron! Are you okay?!” Helaena asks loudly, but she gets ignored as Daeron spins around and begins to splash Aegon out of spite. However, as expected, Aegon only finds his brother's reaction humorous.

“I told you not to invite him,” you quip at Aemond with a side glare. “Of course, he was going to do some shit like this.”

“I thought he’d behave,” Aemond mutters. “Besides, I didn’t invite him. He found out and invited himself.”

You sigh and roll your eyes. “Whatever, do you want to go next?” You ask and throw your hand out to offer it to him. And at first, he looks at your extended invitation and hesitates for a few seconds, so you think today will be the day he refuses your assistance, but alas, he thankfully doesn’t give in to his self-consciousness about being judged by Aegon and puts his hand over yours and make you smile at him.

“Ready?” You make sure to ask as you secure your hold around his hand.

Aemond nods and you proceed to walk back a couple of steps before you both run forward at the same time and jump off the cliff together hand in hand just like you always do. When you hit the water with a big splash and sink in the depths of the deep body of water, you let go of Aemond’s hand and open your eyes, catching him struggling to find his composure for a moment.

Only for a moment though because he’s quick to calm down and stop flailing his limbs around, letting his heartbeat come to a calm beat, and finding the moment to open his eyes and come face to face with you and your close-mouthed smile as you’re the center of each other's attention.

He tries to mirror your sweet gesture, but his smile is not as grand or excited as yours. There’s a warmth in his smile as sees you being so giddy, but he can not reflect that joy you carry because this, the depths of these waters aren’t his favorite; he feels like he’s playing with death by being down under for so long, but for you? This is basically your natural habitat. You were given the name the Siren of Driftmark for your singing ability, but what no one knows is that you’re basically a siren when you’re in the water.

You can hold your breath a long time and that’s something that was self-taught just to be able to dive down and collect stuff off the surface, and be able to mingle with the sea creatures that call these waters their home. Honestly, if it were up to you you would live here if you could, but alas you need air, so after you swim around him you resurface and take a breath of air without failing to grin brighter than the sun shining above.

“Come on, Helaena!” You encourage her whilst you see Aemond resurface and take a large gasp of air from the corner of your eye.

“Maybe I should go push her,” Aegon taunts, but you quickly snap around.

“Don’t you dare you ass!” You remark and push him, but alas he just laughs it off.

You respond to his maniacal laugh with a scoff as you turn away from him and look up again. However, Helaena is not in sight anymore.

“Helaena?!” You call out with worry.

Albeit only a few seconds later she shows up again as she runs toward the edge and jumps off with her fingers pinching her nose.

When she hits the water you swim toward her right away, but she resurfaces quickly and looks at you with relief to be alive. “I’m okay,” she reassures you as she breathes heavily.

You grin at her and nod. “Great. Would you do it again?”

She shakes her head and scoffs. “No.”

You giggle at her response and grab her hand to swim to shore together. Once your feet hit the sandy ground you find Daeron sitting on a rock with his eyes on the water before him.

“Are you okay?” You make sure to ask as you break away from Helaena and crouch down beside him.

“Yes,” he sighs and blinks as he turns his head to look at you. “It was not so bad. It just looked further when I was up there.”

You smile softly and nod in comprehension before you raise a quizzical brow. “Would you do it again?”

Daeron scoffs and nods softly. “Yes. It was fun.”

You beam at him and nudge him playfully. “See, I told you it was not so bad!”

Daeron smiles shyly and rolls his head down as he averts his gaze. “Yes I suppose you were right,” he echoes you before he meets your eyes with that sweet smile. “Just don’t let Aegon push me this time.”

You shake your head and pat his shoulder to reassure him. “No, never. I won’t let him come close. Swear.”

——

*NOW. TUMBLETON*

The stars in the night sky are dancing and mingling with the moon. The breeze is cool, colder than any that’s been felt yet, keeping the warm bodies in their tents to preserve heat and also sleep off the nighttime activities that have been transcending for the past week.

Overall the night is at last calm, giving the army of men a peaceful night. However, it’s in that silence and peace that they are easily able to feel the ground beneath them starting to tremble. And even if they can’t mistake it for anything absurd like all the men getting piss drunk, they don’t question the earth, yet.

With not a moment to spare, more and more men start to wake up when they hear the sound of faint rumbling echoing in the distance. They try to play it off as some distant storm coming their way, but that rumbling grows louder, going from rumbling to it sounding like a thousand storms of thunder clapping on the ground, making the ground shake even more violently and once and for all luring them out of their tents.

Albeit it’s a good and bad thing that they did. It’s a bad thing because they’re met face to face with death, but it's also a good thing because they can alert everyone of death rolling in on them in the shape of two large dragons that dive from the sky unleashing waves of fire upon their tent grounds that engulf the once darkened campsite in a raging firelight and drown out the soft and bright light of the moon and the stars.

From there on it's impossible for anyone to mind their business and ignore the sound of chaos outside, the firestorm falling upon them, and the wave upon wave of screaming men all charging toward them. Now they have to get up and dress for a fight, or get up and walk out whilst they’re dressing to grab any weapon they can or grab their horses to have some fighting chance.

And some men do have a fighting chance—Those men far from the initial line of fire can quickly dress and grab what they need to meet their attackers. However, those men caught under the dragon's shadows are nothing more than ash and bones, especially as you and Astraea make a sharp turn and fly low, descending a fiery death as you fly directly toward the main tents because that’s where you’ll find him; Daeron Targaryen.

Many would call you a Kinslayer for directly killing your uncle Daeron. You’ll forever be marked as one in the history books. All your great achievements will be watered down to that single fact especially because you’re a woman, but here’s the thing, you don’t give a single fuck what people in a hundred years think of you. All you care about is killing one man at this very moment, and you notice him just as you’re flying directly toward the main tents.

Daeron is standing outside, half-dressed with his silver-blond hair standing out like a sore thumb against the wild flames feeding on the bodies, the tents, and the ground around him. He stands there with his dark eyes on you and your dragon charging directly at him. He’s there and as his figure reflects in your eyes all the deaths you’ve endured; Lucerys, your grandmother, Jacaerys, Viserys, Joffrey, and even Aemond—Even his own brother's death flashes behind your eyes as if he was the sole cause of their deaths. As if he himself killed them with his bare hands.

And in some messed up way your mind does see him as the sole cause of their deaths because there’s no one else to blame; Aegon is dead or lost somewhere, you can never truly blame Aemond, and anyone else can never compare to the man standing before you. The Hightower and Targaryen boy whose family took away everything good. It’s because of his family that all of your own family is gone, and all that you knew is dead along with them. So yes, you blame him. You want him dead. You want to see his flesh melt off his bones. You want to give his mother his head so she may feel your mother's pain and the pain you have endured as well.

It would satisfy your thirst for revenge just enough to get off the field and watch from a distance to not make Cregan, Ser Cane, and Addam worry. Daeron is all your anger wants. He’s all your desire locks on. Daeron.

Daeron.

Daeron.

“Dracarys,” you growl as you lean forward and grab onto the handle with a vice grip.

Astraea clicks from the back of her throat as she builds up fire before she blasts her burning flames on Daeron and the path behind him.

Nevertheless, just before the flames can hit Daeron and the ground, the boy jumps out of Astraea’s aim.

You immediately snap your head around as Astraea flies forward, and soon thereafter catch him pushing himself to his feet to be able to run away and hide in between the crowd all running from the dragon's wrath.

“RAHHH!” You cry out enraged and hit the handles of your saddle. “<Turn Astraea!>” You command in Valyrian as you nudge the handles to the side. And without needing to be told twice Astraea makes a quick turn, whipping her tail and thrashing men to the side whilst also destroying tents and clutter in the way of her swinging tail.

When you’re facing the way Daeron ran you have Astraea unleash more waves of fire, catching irrelevant men in the way of your wrath until your uncle is all that you see ahead of you now that he’s not able to hide in the sea of bodies.

Yet before you can give your command to Astraea with your words or through your connection, you unhook all your restraints and push yourself off your seat to swing your leg over the saddle and reach the ladder hanging off Astraea’s side. After that, without needing to be told, your dragon comes to a stop and hovers over the ground of burning bodies to let you descend the ladders and land on an empty spot on the ground.

Daeron notices what you're doing and doesn’t stop running. You look at his path ahead and assume he’s attempting to reach Tessarion, so, considering Astraea knows your deepest desire, she swoops around him, unleashing a line of fire around him to cut him off in his attempts and bring him to an immediate stop before the wall of fire.

You then proceed to watch him, but don’t call out his name. You narrow your glare and start trudging toward him with heavy footsteps and Blackfyre in one hand. And perhaps that sight of you is much more terrifying than being called out because silence is much more threatening. It's tense and deadly because he knows, he feels it on the hairs on the back of his neck and the goosebumps crawling down his spine that you’re coming.

It’s only once Daeron hears you come to a stop that he turns around while he fixes his grip on his own sword, and confronts your piercing glare spewing hatred and a ferocity that he has only heard of until now.

Yet it doesn’t scare him. He doesn’t tense or try to find a way to escape, he stands there with you in a small clear spot surrounded by dead bodies and a wall of fire that stays alive by feeding off some of those dead bodies.

“Goodsister,” he greets warmly, but you don’t even attempt to return a feigned friendly greeting. You breathe out heavily through your nose and tighten your grip around your Valyrian sword.

“It’s been a while. You’re glowing,” he finds some way to be funny, but again, you don’t mirror him. You do respond though.

“I’m not your Goodsister anymore. Aemond is dead.”

Daeron blinks and nods stiffly. “Yes, I know. My condolences, you were married and you were best friends from what I remember. He really loved you.”

You blink repeatedly as one of your heartstrings is pulled at by his words.

“Don’t patronize me,” you hiss and throw your hand out to point the tip of your sword at him. “Fight.”

Daeron swallows back nervously and remains still for a second before he shakes his head. “No, I won’t fight you. You’re my niece and you’re with child. It would not be fair.”

“You have until my Astraea reaches us to swing your sword,” you ignore him and then lift your hand to point your sword at Astraea circling around to return this way. “If you refuse she will unfurl her fire and catch us both with her flames, but,” you suck your teeth and begin to smile a menacing smile. “Only one of us can withstand the fire's fury. You…will burn and Tessarion won’t be able to reach you in time to save you. So choose. You can fight me and have a chance to survive, or die a fiery death.”

Daeron glances at Astraea getting closer and then glances at the army of men you came with before he slowly lets his eyes fall back on you. “And if I fight you and survive, how long until your army of men comes after me?”

You scoff. “Not long. Lord Stark is lurking nearby, and my sworn protector is also close, so,” you pause and hum as you come up with an estimate. “About ten to fifteen minutes, but that’s enough to get close to your dragon. That is if my dragon doesn’t eat you first.”

He hums and nods in comprehension before he chooses to glance at his options again and debate whether he really wants to fight you at a disadvantage, or give up and die.

It is a hard choice given he doesn’t hate you or hold any ill will. It was always your brothers that he was taught to dislike, but his mother never really taught them to hate you. She did bad mouth you and was rude, but she never told her kids to hate you, so he can’t find it in himself to flip a switch and all of a sudden want to kill you.

Yet…he also doesn’t want to die. He can’t die when his men and his own mother need him. He owes it to the siblings he’s lost and their cause to fight. So with a deep breath, he tightens his grip, fixes his stance, and chooses.

“Alright if it’s what you want.” He mutters, making that menacing smile turn to a grin, and without saying a word, causing Astraea to drift and now circle you and him rather than setting you both on fire.

“It’s what I want and it’s what I need,” you grumble and fix your stance before you slowly let out a deep breath.

~~~~~

There’s a breath you take in your lungs, but rather than being filled with relief as the breath of air runs through your lungs something grainy travels into your lungs before you’re overcome with a pressure over your chest.

A darkness also accompanies the pressure as you open your eyes, and all you can do is panic rather than staying calm and thinking about what’s going on or where you are.

You throw your hands out and fling them around to try and remove the heavy grain that’s burying you without thinking about taking steady breaths. You pant, taking in more and more grains of sand bit by bit until a beam of light breaks through the darkness, bringing hope to the desperation and letting you break through the barrier that was on top of you to let you see an endless blue sky.

Yet even as you face the horizon and the freedom it brings, the panic still unsettles your heart as you face an endless sea that you weren’t near mere moments ago and violently cough out the grains that you now know are sand.

It’s all so sudden, the sand, the sea, the blue sky, and the shining sun. You were just…

You don’t remember…

You can’t remember where you were. You don’t—you can’t.

“Hey, hey, breathe. Breathe,” a familiar voice tries to instruct you before their hand falls on your shoulder, but you just bolt to your feet and spin around to swat their hand away in your panic.

Only, it’s when you face the person comforting you that you recognize…your father.

“Father?” You ask breathlessly and step back out of fear.

“Yes.” He nods. “Yes. It’s me. You’re okay. It’s me.”

You shake your head and close your eyes to try and wake up back where you had been, but when you rip your eyes open you still see him and the beach standing behind you.

“No, no,” you keep denying what you see even if you don’t know what’s going on. You just know seeing your father isn’t right. “You’re not supposed to be here,” you say between pants and step back again whilst you reach for your belly for some support. Albeit your hands don’t come in contact with your swollen belly, your hands hit your torso, but there's no bump. It’s gone. The twins…

“What,” you gasp and feel your heart racing in your chest as your panic heightens, making everything around you spin, and making your head hurt. “Where are my children?!”

“Breathe!” Your father yells out over your panic and grabs your arms to yank you toward him so he can repeat himself louder. “Breathe.”

You look him in the eyes and don’t see a stranger or any trick or sorcery. You see the same brown eyes you saw when he was still alive. You see him, the man you loved, and the man you lost. He’s there in front of you. It’s no trick, no dream, no vision. It’s him.

“Father?” You question and blink repeatedly before you stare at him for a lingering minute and then avert your gaze to think back to what you remember last and what brought you to this moment. And even if you assume that you won’t remember, you do. You remember what led you to where you currently are.

“Father,” you breathe out and lift your hands to grab his arms and huff out with relief. “Father!”

“My girl,” he coos and finally offers you a smile as you’re calm now. “Hello.”

You offer him a smile but don’t redirect his greeting. Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion. “My twins?” You ask and he sighs before he offers you an assuring smile.

“They’re fine. You on the other hand…” he trails off and his face falls with pity and heavy concern. “My girl, do you know where you are?”

You blink repeatedly and come up with a quick idea. “I think so. I think,” you pant out and face him with worry. “Maybe I’m dead?”

He breathes out and neither nods nor shakes his head, he parts his lips and gives you a response instead. “Not yet, but you can choose to.”

“Choose to?” You echo and shake your head before probing in more confusion. “I don’t understand. I thought I died.”

He shakes his head. “Not yet, that’s why you can choose. You can pass on and stay here, or you can leave this place. You can also choose to live. That’s the difference between me and you. You just have to know what you want.”

You slowly let go of him and think over his words as if it were some great mystery when what he said and what it meant is clear as day.

“Do you know what you want?” He asks and looks deep into your averted gaze.

“I,” you mouth and breathe out before you drag your eyes up and face him with a sense of confusion on how to answer his question because why would you want to go back?

You did have some great plans you went over with Cregan, but as you’re here, in this great limbo with your father on the beach without any pain or worry, why would you want to leave to suffer?

You don’t want to cry anymore. You don’t want to live through more loss. You don’t want to suffer any more pain. You want to stay here where you can be by the sea, breathing in the salty air, and being with a man you love.

“I don’t know,” you mutter under your breath and look away shamefully as if waiting for him to scold you and try to argue with you. Albeit he just pats your arms before he strokes your cheeks.

“That’s okay, take your time.”

You meet his dark eyes and offer him a thankful smile before you once again look around at where you are.

Your father follows your line of gaze and takes a step away from you to finally probe. “Why did you choose the beach?”

You turn around to face the endless blue sea and answer without having to think about it. “Because it’s where I was always the happiest. It’s where I would come with my brothers and the others. It’s where you taught me to fish and how to read the stars. It’s where you taught me to sing sailor shanties.” You share and giggle breathlessly before you look over at him and finally wonder why he’s here when he should be long gone with the man he never stopped loving.

“Why are you here, father? Shouldn’t you be with your partner Joffrey?” You ask, making him scoff and look out at the peaceful waters that you stand in front of.

“No,” he then answers quietly. “I’m where I’m meant to be.”

You meet his gaze and try to dig deep for the real answer, but you can’t find it in his eyes or find any clue in between his body language, so you accept his answer as it is.

“You know I’m proud of you, right?” He interjects and steals all your divided attention. “You…have come so far,” he muses. “My little siren.” He laughs breathlessly and steps forward to once again grab your face. “You have grown into such a strong and beautiful young woman.”

“Father,” you mouth as your eyes start to fill with tears, making the sight of him turn blurry.

“You are a good mother, and you are a good daughter. Despite all your doubts, you are a good daughter, your mother knows that. I know that. You are just young, you will make mistakes, but the important thing is you admit them and learn from them, but never shame yourself because of those mistakes.”

More tears overfill your eyes, causing them to break out and roll down your cheeks.

“I love you, my girl,” he continues in the same soft and affectionate way as if he didn’t have all the time in the world despite being dead—“you are my greatest achievement. You are what I’m most proud of and I’m,” his voice breaks and tears fill his own eyes. “…I’m sorry for leaving. I hurt you and I’m sorry. You needed me and I left. I tried to come back. I was on my way back to see you, but I…” he trails off and his tears roll down. “…that’s when I died. You believe me right?”

You lift your hands to grab his jaw and offer him a wobbly smile before you nod. “I do. I believe you because I saw it in a vision from a good witch.”

He scoffs in amusement and you giggle before you slide your hands down and proceed to throw them around his neck to pull him in for an embrace.

“I forgive you, Father,” you assure him and unknowingly offer him everything he had been waiting for.

You finally give him the forgiveness that he was waiting for to move on to peace.

“I love you, and I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” his voice cracks as he hugs you back with a tight force. “And I love you more than anything.”

You weep on his shoulder and grip onto him as if your life depended on it. “Father,” you cry and unleash a very shaky and heavy breath that feels like you shed off a weight you did not know you had been carrying on your shoulders.

“It’s okay to be selfish,” he whispers. “No one will shame you for it if it’s what you want.”

You pull away slowly and wipe your tears before you look him in the eyes and continue with a quiver as you talk through your pain. “I don’t want—”

Albeit before you can finish, there’s other people that catch your eye. There in the distance, along the shoreline are your three brothers; Joffrey, Lucerys, and Jacaerys. They’re here too and the sight of them makes you forget the pain you were about to share and the choice you didn’t know if you wanted to make. You were going to debate it, but now as you see your brothers all you can think about is going to them.

“Go,” your father tells you as he sees what you focus on. “They’re waiting for you.”

You quickly look back at him and query. “Are you sure?”

He holds your gaze and stares at you for a lingering second before he nods softly. “I’m sure. Go.”

You offer him one last giddy smile before you peel away and face your beloved brothers. “Joffrey! Luke! Jace!”

All three boys turn to look at you and you throw your hand in the air and wave.

Lucerys is the first to respond with a sweet smile before Joffrey waves you over.

You then don’t debate your choice or look back at your father, you move your foot forward and go to them.

~~~~~~~

*NOW*

A breath unfurls from your lungs and escapes past your lips. Your once deadly grip on your blade's handle loosens, and your feet shift into a fighting stance as you lock eyes with Daeron.

“I am sorry—”

“Shut up,” you grimace and lunge forward to swing Blackfyre at his neck, but Daeron is quick to block your attempts and then push you back, causing you to grunt and then proceed to thrust violently.

However, Daeron then throws his body to the side to avert your action, but you don’t let him collect himself and come up with some alternative. You overwhelm him by swinging your blade again.

Albeit Daeron meets your blade with his once more, causing a sharp clinging to ring out against the sound of men fighting and dying, dragon wings clapping as they flap in the sky, fire blasting out of their mouths, and crying as you hear them fighting.

Nevertheless, it’s while your swords are pressed against each other, and your eyes are locked on one another that you slip one hand off your blade handle and curl your fist to throw him an uppercut that makes him stumble back. After that, you probably would have followed with a kick, but with your belly weighing you down you can’t, so instead, you opt to rush him and throw your blade down. Albeit Daeron follows up by throwing his own blade up to meet your actions before he manages to drop one hand to grab your wrist and try to shove you back.

“I don’t want to fight you. It’s not fair!” He cries out to try and make you listen. “And above all else, you’re my niece. We grew up together, doesn’t that count for something?”

Your eyebrows furrow and your eyes narrow to a nasty glare. “Aegon grew up with my mother and he still took her throne. He was a man capable of thinking for himself. He could’ve fought back, but he didn’t, he still took my mother's throne,” you growl and use your strength to try and push him off you, but his grip only tightens and he pushes back against you, causing you to drop one hand to grab onto his forearm and try to rip his grip off your wrist that holds you captive.

“And you still chose to fight against her. She would have given you a spot beside her!” You cry in anger. “But you still betrayed her and for what? A mother that hardly cares about you? Brothers that forget you exist?” You scoff and shoot him a smirk to try and piss him off, but he’s more emotionally mature. Daeron slides his hand off your wrist instead and then presses it against your chest to shove you back with a strength that’s enough to make you lose contact and stumble back.

You try to quickly find your balance to counter, but Daeron then kicks dirt and ash in your eyes, causing a roaring cry to rip out from your throat and break through all the barriers of noise that surround you, while your sword falls from your hands as you fling yourself around and fall to your knees to try and wipe the trash out of your stinging eyes.

“What the hell?!” You hiss and groan as you frantically rub your eyes.

“Is that what you want?!” Daeron remarks and steps forward, but you manage to crawl away and throw your hand back.

“Don’t you dare,” you snap back and go back to rubbing your eyes.

“You really think this is what Aemond would want?” He throws out as if he knew the man Aemond grew up to be. He only knew a child, he didn’t know the man he was.

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss and drop your hand to blink hard and repeatedly, whilst also feeling your eyes overflow with tears that try to wash out all the trash in your eyes—“don’t talk about him like you know him,” you remark and finally manage to see the ground. It’s cloudy, but you can still see it nonetheless so you continue to crawl away in search of a weapon.

“You didn’t know him,” your voice cracks. “Your mother didn’t know him. Aegon didn’t. Only I did…he was mine and he’s gone now because of your family. Because of you! So shut up.”

“What happened to you?” He asks boldly as he stays where he is and watches you aimlessly move away from him and your sword—“You used to be kind-hearted. You were good and now…”

“I’m everything you and your family made me,” you finish his sentence and feel your breath catch in your throat when you see an intact bow and scattered arrows just beneath a burnt corpse.

“No, no I don’t believe that,” he says as he doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re starting to pull at something.

“The girl I knew is still there. You were the Realm’s Golden Girl,” he goes on rambling. “I don’t believe you could have fallen this far.”

You manage to get the bow out so you test your luck with one arrow so as to not risk raising suspicion by reaching for the other arrow scattered further away from you.

“Believe what you want. I do not care,” you grumble and align your arrow with the bow before you throw yourself around and garner his attention.

Daeron sees your intentions and tries to quickly react, but without thinking too much about your aim because of your blurry eyesight, you let the arrow go, and in that flash of a second after the arrow flies through the air, you manage to pierce Daeron through his eye.

And as soon the arrow hits his face you gasp with surprise while he freezes in place as he’s overcome with disbelief over what just happened.

Yet it’s while he’s caught in his paralyzing shock that you drop the bow and hastily push yourself to your feet to be able to run toward Blackfyre abandoned on the ground, giving Daeron the push to snap out of his stupor and finally realize he’s in agonizing pain and also targeted for another attack.

Although the arrow pierced through his eye makes him slow, he’s still dealing with his paralyzing shock which doesn’t let him be as fast as he wants to be. Thus he does what he can and throws his hand out as you stride toward him with your hands reeling your sword back, and he stammers, “Wait—”

However, you don’t let him finish his sentence before you swing your sword with every ounce of strength you can muster, managing to cut through his neck and slice his head clean off his shoulders with a loud cry of determination.

When the head hits the ground a loud and solemn cry pierces through the sky in the distance, but you ignore it and instead let out a heavy breath and follow your body forward toward the wall of fire as you stumble due to the strength you used, letting the flames consume you as you stand there in your disbelief.

Killing Daeron didn’t affect you. You don’t feel a twinge of grief or remorse. You’re just surprised it happened. You killed Daeron.

What does that make you feel? Deep inside.

You blink as hard as you can to keep trying to remove the dirt still stuck in your eyes and think about it.

There’s no grief. No guilt or remorse. Do you feel relieved?

No.

Do you feel proud?

You tilt your head up toward the sky and blink repeatedly a few more times to finally rid your eyes of all the gunk Daeron kicked at you to blind you and finally see clearly, and it’s like a breath of fresh air.

You make out the screen of smoke that pollutes the air and completely covers the starry sky and its illuminating light. You see the thick ash that falls down to the earth like snowflakes fall, and in between all that ugly pollution you find your answer to your question, and it’s a no. You don’t feel proud, you only feel a hunger for more. You still feel…unsatisfied. Like you’re missing something.

How funny, killing Daeron was supposed to satisfy your thirst for blood for a while, just until you reached Kings Landing and sought revenge for what the Smallfolk did to your mother and the dragons. Albeit not an ounce of that thirst is satisfied.

So it’s true what they say? Killing out of revenge won’t satisfy someone?

Well…it has to. It has to mean something!

Thus you bring your head down and walk out of the fire with your chainmail burning red because of the heat, and your fur cloak burning behind you as you walk over and collect Daeron’s head off the ground.

“Goodbye uncle, it was nice knowing you,” you mutter to his bleeding head without meaning a word as you lift it to look at him in his lifeless brown eye. “They’ll remember you because of me,” you add before you drop your arm and roll your shoulders back as you let out a deep breath. You then walk away from the small empty space and walk over dead body after dead body littered on the battlefield ground and reach a boulder that stands at the center of all the chaos.

Before you climb on the large boulder though, you look down at the head you carry and force pride upon yourself. You think about the wave of encouragement and hope all your men will feel upon seeing Daeron’s head, and that fills you with excitement and more pride that you couldn’t muster before.

And it’s only once those emotions now rush through you that you start to climb the boulder without caring if you’re dragging Blackfyre against the stone, or that blood is staining your hand. You climb the boulder and reach the top, seeing multiple banners spread throughout the thick of the battlefield all waving the same red three-headed dragon against a black background, and you think of her, your mother, and your Queen.

She won’t have to worry about Daeron or his dragon anymore. It’s not the guarantee she needs to end this war, but it’s one less piece of the board. You can win and she will ascend her throne.

You believe it with your whole heart and it’s that belief that overflows your running heart with enthusiasm and malice.

“The Daring is dead!” You make your voice boom, catching the attention of your men and your enemies before you throw your hand up to show off the head like a trophy, causing an eruption of cheers and gasps alike.

“BLOOD DRAGON!”

“BLOOD DRAGON!” The cheers of your alias scatter around the field, causing goosebumps to spread over your skin and a smile to spread on your lips.

“FOR—” you cut yourself off as a large shadow casts over you, making you roll your head back and catch Daeron’s cobalt dragon, Tessarion torpedoing toward you with its mouth open.

Yet even if you do see the potential danger, you don’t turn to run or shield yourself because you know and feel Astraea behind you, flying directly toward the threat to protect you. Besides, Tessarion can’t burn you with her flames like she thinks she can, so you welcome the rain of fire with a wicked smile

Even then as the fire barrels over you, you basically just get scraped because Astraea rams into Tessarion and shoves her to the ground with a loud boom that shakes the ground and makes a crater.

“<Good girl,>” you praise your dragon even if she can’t hear you before you rip your attention away and search for Addam and Seasmoke.

Luckily, or maybe not so luckily you spot him in the distance caught in a dance between Seasmoke and Vermithor.

You look out for Silverwing, but you don’t catch her anywhere, it’s just Vermithor against Seasmoke, but is that really relieving?

Not in the slightest because Vermithor is the largest dragon. He has more battle experience than Seasmoke, and much more power in his fire and whatever hits he throws. He could find a way to kill Seasmoke if his rider is smart enough.

All while Tessarion is now riderless and smaller. Without a rider, she’s aimless in this fight, so you need to help Addam and Seasmoke first. You can then worry about Silverwing and Tessarion if they turn out to be a threat.

Therefore, you descend the boulder with haste and turn in your dragon's direction, seeing at that moment as if having read your thoughts, Astraea leaving Tessarion stranded and struggling on the ground so you can meet each other halfway, and hastily climb her after sheathing your sword.

“<Let's go help Seasmoke and Addam,>” you tell her while you shove Daeron’s decapitated head into a saddlebag. Albeit was there really a need to tell her what you wanted? Astraea had already met up with you without needing to be told, and she knows what it is you want and your desperate desire because she feels it too.

~~~~~~~

“Jace! Luke! Joffrey!”

There’s nothing that can stop you. No obstacle, no force, or divine intervention. There’s only them at the other end of that sandy beach as if they’re encouraging you to the big finish line. They call out your name with excitement and big smiles, only further exciting your already racing heart, and fueling your encouragement already running at high speed in order to let you reach them out of fear that they are a figment of your imagination.

“Jace!” You call out again with tears running off your face and joining the windy breeze. “Joffrey! Luke!” You say with a wobbly grin illuminating your once gloomy face.

Once you finally break through all the barriers that stood in between and cross that finish line to reach them, they can’t hold their excitement either, they run to you as you run to them and throw your arms around each other while you all laugh a quivering laugh and grin as you’re overfilled with joy.

“You're all here,” you say with a whimper and cling onto them tighter. “I missed you.”

“We missed you too,” Joffrey offers you some consolation before you all pull away, letting you crouch to grab your youngest brother's shoulders and look at him with pity.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to save you, Joffrey.”

Said boy offers you a half smile and shrugs. “It's okay, I had a great death.”

You frown and he sighs before he closes the gap to wrap you in an embrace that just involves him and you.

“Don’t forget me,” he says with a quiver. “And tell Mother I am sorry. If you decide to return that is. Will you?” He doesn’t let you give him a response to his previous comments before he bombards you with a heavy question and pulls away to look at you with an impatient stare.

“Joffrey lay off her,” Jacaerys warns your brother, making you stand up and slowly drag your eyes up to face him. “Don't start crying on us. We know,” he breathes out. “We know all the guilt, the shame, and the longing, so just don’t repeat it.”

You laugh softly and nod before snapping your attention to Lucerys. “Luke,” you greet him softly, making him offer you a sweet and childlike smile.

“I missed you,” he tells you and steals a small breath from your chest.

“I,” you breathe out. “I missed you too.”

Lucerys smile widens before he walks over to wrap his arm around your waist, letting you wrap your arm around his shoulders.

“Are you here to stay?” Lucerys now presses, causing you to sigh and drop your head whilst you all begin walking forward along the shoreline, unbeknownst to the fact that your father is no longer behind you or waiting for that matter. He’s passed because it was your forgiveness that he was waiting for and now that he has it he can know peace. He would help you find the answer to what you want, but that’s something he can’t assist with, that’s an answer only you can come up with.

“I don’t…know…” you trail off and lift your head to look at the blue sky with wonder and confusion.

“I…am so sick and tired of just feeling agony, of losing people, and losing parts of me in this war that staying is more tempting than I care to admit. But on the other hand, I have people depending on me to continue fighting. So,” you pause and swallow back the lump that forms in your throat. “I don’t know.”

Jacaerys hums and you stop walking, causing your arm to slip off Lucerys shoulder whilst his arm also slides off you as you linger behind with your head down and your eyes full of tears.

“Would you,” you pause and hear them come to a stop and shift around against the sand to look at you and wait for the rest of what you were building up to say.

“…would you be mad if I chose to stay here with you all?” You ask and draw in a shaky breath before you slowly face them with tears running down your cheeks. “Would it be selfish of me to trade my pain for an eternity of happiness here on this beach with you? Because I want to…I want to stay. I want to be happy and laugh again. I want to be with you, I don’t want to go back and live on without you!”

Jacaerys and Lucerys share the same pitiful look before Jacaerys steps forward to speak his peace. “I would drag you back because you have the chance we didn’t, but,” he sighs deeply. “If staying is what you want. If that’s what will make you happy, who am I to keep you from happiness? Besides, life here would be a little less boring with you.” He says and offers you that ever-so-heartwarming smile that brightens this moment just a little more.

“I,” you part your lips as your heart yearns to be with them, but before you can give them your answer, water splashes over the side of your face and that of your brothers. When you look over at where the water came from you see that Joffrey was the mischievous culprit.

“Of course it was you,” you remark lightheartedly and push aside the choice you were going to make to run over and grab Joffrey and throw him over your shoulder.

“No, let me go!” He exclaims between laughs, but you run deeper in the water to drop him and make a big splash that makes him burst out laughing even harder.

Lucerys and Jacaerys then join in on the harmless fun in the water as they see you and Joffrey getting carried away; choosing to splash water on each other and or shove each other in the water like you would on those hot summer days when you were young.

For a while you get everything you just said you wanted; you laugh like you haven’t laughed in months. You flash a beaming smile and forget all about the chaos that is your life outside of this limbo. For a moment as you’re having fun with your brothers in the water, it's almost like your heart is set on a decision.

You want to stay. You want to live in this happiness under the sun. You don’t want to wake up under a cloudy sky without your brothers. You want to stay with them for as long as you can. And almost as if to solidify your choice, there in the distance shining in your eyes like the bright sun is your beloved, your Aemond…

~~~~~

*NOW*

Beneath your most desperate desire lies another need. A wicked need just fueled by anger and hate.

A rather unnecessary need to see through because your fight is outside the walls and all the fighting men that are inside Tumbleton’s walls are coming out to join the fight, or are already affected by the chaos the surprise attack caused.

Yet as unnecessary as the need is, the need is still a rather burning desire to rain fire on the entire town as if they’re single-handedly at fault for being taken and sacked by the enemy.

The need makes you itch to follow through with it. The need screams at your mind to tell Astraea to make a sharp turn and fly toward the town. You feel a pressure building within to unleash all that you have balled up inside you, but…you have more control than easily giving into that specific desire, besides, Addam needs your help and that takes priority. So, you continue to fly toward him at a quick speed while also thanking the fact that this fight is taking place at night because Astraea can take cover through the shadows that the wildfires and scattered firelight leave untouched.

Albeit you also grow to resent that night because it makes it harder to see Vermithor and Seasmoke fighting. You can see them tangled on the ground, and you can hear them snapping at each other while they also growl and cry, but this cover makes it difficult to make out their figures so you can know where to hit. And it’s not like you can unleash a blast of fire because Addam could get hurt in the process. You have to rely on Astraea, and you have to strain your eyes.

Much to your conflicted mind though, when you get close enough, you see that Vermithor’s saddle is empty. Ser Hugh is not strapped on his dragon, and you can’t say that he’s crushed, burnt, or eaten because there would be evidence on the saddle or lack thereof, but the saddle is intact. So does that mean…Vermithor is fighting out of his own will? He has to be. And is Ser Hugh dead?

That’s a question you don’t ponder or care to learn the answer to now. Right now you scan the scene as much as the visibility allows you to, finding an opening on Vermithor’s belly.

An attack there would give Seasmoke wiggle room to get out of the entanglement.

Hence you nudge the handles on your saddle down to try and guide Astraea in that direction, but it seems she was already thinking the same thing because she tucks her wings and completely head butts Vermithor’s belly, bringing both male dragons to an abrupt stop, and then forcing Vermithor to unlock his jaw off Seasmoke’s wing to snap back and try to throw his jaw down on Astraea.

Alas, your dragon bites down hard and swings her head to the side, creating a deep gash on Vermithor’s belly that makes him bellow out in pain.

Seasmoke then sees his opening and slips away from Vermithor. You look over and see him try to rise, but his wing is too battered to use, he can’t pick himself off the ground.

“Addam!” You call out as loud as you can so your voice can be carried out. “Addam!”

Said man catches wind of his name traveling through the breeze and his attention falls on you.

“Jump off the dragon!” You try to tell him as Astraea and Vermithor are fighting. “Jump off!” You shout at the top of your lungs as you also try to motion with your hands so you can get your point across and so he can continue to have some fighting chance.

“Addam! Jump! Please!” You continue to plead before you throw your hand out to offer to him and let him know that you will help him. You can get out of this together.

Alas, Addam holds your pleading gaze and shakes his head as he understands well what it is you’re trying to say. He doesn’t try to yell out his response, he just hits his chest with his fist the same way you tap each other's chest with your own fists.

“No,” you mewl and clutch onto your handles to try and nudge Astraea toward Addam and Seasmoke. However, just as Astraea pulls her jaw away from Vermithor’s belly, from the cover of night falls a blast of fire that unfurls over Astraea and you.

It’s a good thing that you don’t burn or else this is where you would have met your end. The only thing that happened was that you were caught by surprise so much that your heart leaped. Besides that and the rest of your fur cloak burning off, Astraea and you come out unscathed.

Actually, your dragon just comes out more enraged, so as Seasmoke is aiming for her neck, she snaps around as the fire is dying out to be able to whip her tail and throw him off his intended path.

“Addam!” You yell out without paying any mind to what happened or Tessarion’s possible retaliation. You turn your body against your saddle to search and find Vermithor shifting his focus back to Seasmoke.

“Addam!” You call out desperately, hurting every possible muscle aligning your throat to get your voice across, and actually manage to catch his attention.

Addam snaps his head to the side and his eyes fall on you. You can see his dark brown eyes through the cloud of debris that floats in the air and the scattered light that finds room in between you both, and you have the need to continue trying to get your plea across, but you know he’ll just ignore you, so you just narrow your gaze to a more determined look and offer him a small smile.

Addam returns your smile and holds your gaze for a second longer before Astraea throws herself in the air to tackle Tessarion while she tries to regain her balance, and shoves her to the ground.

You trust Astraea to fight so you turn your head to focus back on Addam, catching at that moment Seasmoke biting down on Vermithor’s neck with so much force that the bronze dragon begins to gush out blood.

Your eyes brighten with glee, and your first thought is to search for Addam.

Nevertheless, as you’re searching, Vermithor then counters the attack and clamps his jaw hard on Seasmoke’s throat before, with one forceful yank, rips Seasmoke’s head clean off his neck.

Your eyes peel back with shock and horror at that moment, but you still try to call out for Addam. You still continue to search for him, but you can’t find him. Once again your attention is pulled away, and this time it’s by Tessarion tangling her body around Astraea and rolling her on the ground.

You quickly bend over your saddle to avoid being thrashed around in the midst of the dragons rolling on the ground, whilst Astraea lets out a sharp cry as she swings her claws on any part of Tessarion she can reach, causing the cobalt dragon to stop in her actions and unleash Astraea from her hold.

Once your dragon has her feet on the ground you sit up and notice Tessarion struggling to get up so you look away and frantically search for Addam.

This time though you don’t find his face. You don’t meet his eyes. You see the headless corpse of Seasmoke bleeding out on the ground but no sign of Addam trying to find a way out, so you panic. You shouldn’t, there’s a high chance he was unharmed, but you still panic, so without caring about Vermithor dragging himself away, or Tessarion and Astraea still at each other's throats, you unbuckle yourself and hastily unmount your dragon to run through the blood-soaked ground.

You trip and fall on your hands and knees, staining your skin and your chainmail gown of dragon blood that lets out steam due to how hot it is, but you don’t stop to linger, your mind and your heart don’t let you stop. You run and run as fast as your body can let you, feeling your chest rise and fall quickly with heavy pants, and feeling your heartbeat quicken bit by bit as you approach Seasmoke’s saddle and fail to see Addam walk out unscathed or minimally injured.

“Addam!” You call out in hopes he’ll assure you he’s fine as he hears you approach him, but you don’t receive a response. Besides, all the calamity already surrounding you, his voice doesn’t rise over the clamoring.

Which is why you go again. “Addam?!”

You wait for a response but once again you fail to get one, so instead of quickening your pace, you slow down and focus on your pounding heart rather than ignoring the panic that makes it race with so much haste.

“Addam?” You call out weakly and press your hand on Seasmoke’s corpse to run it over his scales as you approach the saddle.

You don’t want to expect the worst due to Addam’s lack of response but you have already lost so much. You’ve been the butt of death's joke so many times that you prepare yourself mentally to face tragedy.

“Addam?” You whisper as you start to round the corner and stay connected to Seasmoke to try and spare your poor heart from what may await you.

Yet you can’t avoid the truth forever because if Addam is injured he might need your help. So with a few heavy breaths, you slip your hand off Seasmoke and finish turning that corner to finally come face to face with the saddle, and see Addam lying on the ground. You don’t pay attention if his back is moving with every breath, your eyes go wide as you gasp and a heightened sense of panic shoots through your heart, causing you to break into a sprint.

“Addam!” You call out with that sense of panic laced in your voice.

When you reach him you continue to not listen for his breaths. You don’t take note of his neck bent at an odd angle, you just see blood leaking out from a gash on his head and work to unstrap him from his saddle.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “You’ll be okay. I will put pressure on the wound. I know how to do that. I can do it until we reach a healer.”

Once again the response is silence, but you don’t care, you manage to unhook him from his saddle and hook your arms under his arms to drag him back onto the stable ground.

“You did great, you know that?” You continue as you use all your strength to drag his heavy body back with you. “I killed Daeron, I took his head and I want to,“ you pause to groan. “…give it to his mother. Which sounds cruel, but alas I do not care. She deserves it for what she caused, don’t you think?” You ask and lay him down on his back, catching the way his eyes are half-lidded and the blood running out of his gash is no longer bright crimson, but dark.

“Addam?” You call out and lose every ounce of warmth that was building up in your voice as you wanted to be oblivious. “Addam?” Your voice cracks and your heart slowly sinks down to your stomach, but you don’t come to any conclusion yet. First, you turn his head so it’s not bent at a concerning angle, and then, rip a long piece of fabric from your gown's skirt to wrap it around his head and apply pressure on his wound.

“You’re all patched up,” you strain to say as he remains motionless and with his eyes half-lidded. “Addam? Did you hear me?”

You bring your hands down from his head and press them on his chest to shake him gently so he can wake up, but he doesn’t even twitch. Thus you press your palm over his heart and wait.

Wait. And wait.

You even hold your breath as if that was in the way of letting you feel a single beat of his heart, but even in the silence that surrounds you and him, you fail to feel his heart thump under your palm. There’s not even a weak and soft thump, his heart is still. Lifeless…

“Addam?” Your voice quivers and you proceed to drag your hands up to grab his shoulders and shake him gently. “Addam?!” You croak, but there’s not even a groan or a pained gasp. He lies there breathless with his eyes lifeless and dull.

“A…Addam,” you keep calling out in hopes something will change when you know the truth. You had known it since the moment he failed to respond to your call the first time because even though there was a chance he was just unconscious then, you knew deep inside that life wouldn't treat you that kindly and death wouldn’t spare someone you loved just for you to suffer less. Yet you still tried to cling onto some fragment of hope. You wished desperately for there to be a positive outcome, but…there isn’t. Addam is dead…that's what all his wounds mean. He’s dead.

“Addam!” You cry and shake him again, but like before there’s no response so you let go of his shoulders and lift your hands to stroke his face still kept warm. “Please,” you plead, but not to Addam, to life, to destiny, the gods, or death. You pleaded to any divinity that existed so they could provide you with a miracle and not steal the life of yet someone else you loved.

Alas, they also ignore you and you're left on your knees having to cradle Addam’s body in your arms and continue to be ignorant of the fact that lies before you. “Please. Please!” You bellow out and tilt your head up, causing your glossy eyes and tear-pampered face to glisten under the light of the scattered fires on the battlefield.

“Cregan?! Cregan!” You call out and strain your throat as you do so, but he doesn’t come. There’s not even a glimpse, so you drop your head and face Addam’s lifeless face feeling powerless and useless.

“I’m sorry,” you weep and press your forehead on his. “I’m so sorry, Addam…why did you have to leave me too?”

You draw in a shaky breath and close your eyes as you rock his body back and forth with you.

You would cry harder, you would plead with every fiber of your being. You would be mad, and try to curse life, but you have already lost so much. You faced death so much that this time you feel so worn out. You can’t keep pleading for some miracle or for life to be just. You accept death even as your heart aches, even as your throat hurts with how much you’re crying, and even through the way your chest tightens and tightens to the point it feels like you can’t breathe.

When you let him go you do so without your usual fight because you don’t have the energy to keep falling apart every time you lose someone. You can’t do it again, so you press a kiss on his forehead, wipe your bloody hands over his face to close his eyes, and leave him next to Seasmoke.

“Astraea,” you call out with a shaky breath and walk away from Seasmoke and Addam to try and search for your dragon since you hear her moving on the ground nearby and hear Tessarion mewling out like an injured cat. You don’t care to look for Vermithor, you just have one dragon in mind so you can fly off the battlefield.

Alas, when you walk past Seasmoke’s corpse the first thing you notice is Cregan in the distance. He steals your attention, and you steal his too, but unlike you, he’s hit with fear when he sees the blood that covers your body because from where he stands he doesn’t know if it belongs to you or not. All he sees is blood and it seems like all he’s filled with is panic because you catch his lips part while his brown eyebrows knit together.

Now you should somehow show that you aren’t the one wounded, but the moment your eyes fall on him and you see that he’s looking right at you, you point your eyes behind you with a sorrowful look before you face him again and break into a more heartbroken sob whilst the agony you’re under heightens.

Yet you’re not paralyzed. You take a forward to try and meet him halfway, but the moment you do you catch the glimpse of something glistening against the firelight in the distance, so you look. You don’t know why, but you do, you stop in your tracks and look over. That’s when your breath catches when you notice an archer aiming his arrow at you.

There’s no mistaking it. His arrow is way too small to hurt Astraea or any of the other dragons, and due to all the beasts nearby, no one dares to be close. No one except him, so there’s no mistaking it. The archer is aiming at you, you meet his hardened gaze under the orange-yellow light of the flickering fire and make out his determination clearly because you have reflected those emotions in your own eyes many times before.

It’s why you know that it’s dangerous and impossible to break, and it’s why you try to throw yourself on the ground to hide and be able to throw off his aim, but the man quickly lets the arrow go. And just as you turn away to throw yourself on the ground, the tip of the arrow scrapes along the side of your head, making panic and shock hold you in place. All the while Cregan feels his breath catch and a paralyzing fear wash over him.

He wants to yell out your name and warn you to duck, but the archer is faster than he is at catching his breath and pulling himself back together after seeing the love of his life being hit on the side of the head. The archer actually manages to send off another arrow before the great fearless Lord of Winterfell, and you could react, managing to pierce the arrow right above your left breast, just inches from hitting your heart.

This time Cregan bellows out your name when you hit the ground as if startled out of his paralyzing shock and sprints over to throw himself on the first horse he finds to ride it towards you at full speed, fearing that the archer will go after you and finish the job he started. Yet perhaps his fear is now misplaced because your wounded dragon finally seems to be hit with the knowledge that you’re hurt and snaps her neck around, finding the archer responsible right away, and piercing her glare into him before blasting a ball of fire in his direction without needing to be told.

Astraea acts on her own will a moment too late to spare you from being hit, but she does counter out of anger, and pain that she doesn’t physically feel but feels through your tethered connection, managing to catch the archer on fire as he accepts his fate.

Once the archer is dead and no longer a threat, Astraea walks over to you and sniffs your unconscious body before she mewls out as if calling out your name. When she doesn’t get a response she nudges you to turn you on your back and then nudges you again as if pressing for a response, for a sign you’re okay, but your eyes remain closed and you continue to not move a muscle.

However, just like you, Astraea remains defiant on accepting a tragic reality and instead tilts her head to watch you closely. When she catches your chest moving with the breaths you take she backs away, and then flaps her wings to push herself off the ground and fly toward you to scoop you off the ground with her claws before Cregan can reach you.

He was right there, he was about to jump off his horse, but Astraea scooped you off the ground first.

“Astraea!” He calls out desperately. “Put her down! I can help her!” He tells your dragon and walks toward her, but as he gets close Astraea snaps at him as a warning before she turns away and flies off without caring that her wounds are bleeding or that the man she knew you trusted was there. She just thinks about you getting better and flies away to some place she knows you’ll be safe.

Or so she thinks…

~~~~~~

Even though you saw your father and your brothers in this limbo as you lie between a state of life and death, no one shines brighter than him, Aemond.

Many people would shame you for feeling such joy and putting him on such a high pedestal after the pain he has caused you, but how can you play the victim when you’ve hurt him too?

Besides, they wouldn’t understand how deeply you love him, and how much you miss him despite loving someone else and securing your future with your other lover.

No one will ever understand that he is the love and loss of your life and that’s okay because no one but one another needs to understand your intertwined souls.

“I will be back,” you tell your brothers breathlessly over your shoulder and don’t wait for their response. Your heart and every muscle in your body drive you to Aemond’s waiting embrace.

“<My love,>” he coos in Valyrian as he entangles his arms around you and holds you against him, letting you find solace in the sound of his beating heart that truly beats like no other.

“Aemond,” you whisper and nuzzle your face against his chest to breathe in his scent lost to your memory over the months he’s been dead, and time you’ve had away from anything that could smell like him.

“Aemond,” you say again, but this time your voice trembles as you grin and cry.

“I’m here,” he whispers against the top of your head before he presses a kiss on it and nuzzles his nose against your head.

Neither of you proceed to move away. You stay in each other's embrace until your hearts and your breaths are in sync, and you’re familiar with each other's warmth once again.

“Is this really how you see yourself?” You ask as you cup Aemond’s face and stroke his cheek with your fingers.

Aemond grabs your hand and drops his head, causing you to cover his eye and scar for a brief moment. When he lifts his head back up the scar that was left over his eye is gone, and the sapphire is replaced with his eye.

“I never minded the sapphire though,” you assure him as you move your hand back to his cheek. “I thought you looked sexy with it.”

Aemond scoffs and smiles timidly at the ground.

“But I know you never liked it,” you add and regain his attention.

“I missed you,” he says as he presses a kiss on your palm. “It’s not the same without you by my side…but even then…I was cruel to you…I hurt you even though you were the one that I loved the most.”

You sigh and take in his words before you interject. “I hurt you too. I’m not innocent.”

Aemond holds your gaze and doesn’t respond. He swallows thickly before he continues. “Perhaps, but I never should have done anything to hurt you or drive you away. I’m sorry. I wish…I could take it all back.”

Tears well in his eyes, making your heart ache. He was not one to cry so when he does it feels like a knife to your heart.

“I’m sorry too,” you don’t let him take all the blame even though he was avoiding yours. “Will you forgive me?”

His eyes narrow for a brief second before he nods gently and then presses you. “Will you forgive me?”

You smile at him and nod. “Of course.”

His lips twitch to a smile before he drops his forehead on yours and simply basks in your presence.

“We’re together now,” you whisper against him. “And we’ll never—” you cut yourself off as the sound of a girl laughing behind you cuts you off.

You want to ignore it. You’re going to ignore it, but then there’s a manly yet soft voice speaking that steals your attention, making you pull away from Aemond. When you peer over your shoulder you see two beautiful young women with white-silver hair and a tall and slim young man with them with the same colored hair.

Now they shouldn’t be familiar, you have never seen them in your life, but when you study their faces and their colored eyes, you recognize them. From head to toe, you know that they are your children; Aerion, Daenerys, and Daenys.

They’re not dead or in any state of in-between. You know that. You know they’re here by the sheer power of your mind and it’s need to keep you fighting.

Your mind wants to keep you away from making a choice that will seal your fate, and how better to spark your motivation than to show you a glimpse of your children?

The children you love the most, the children you are willing to give your own life for just to keep them alive. It’s true you have been selfish lately, you have put them last, but you want to get to know them. You want to watch them grow up. You don’t want to lose them, but they’re getting away. They’re walking away!

“Wait!” You shout and throw your hand out to try and stop them, but they don’t stop, they keep walking so you try to go after them.

Yet before you can get far, Aemond grabs your hand and stops you.

“What are you doing?” He asks, making you turn around to face him with panic that slowly falls as your face softens.

“I,” you breathe out and pause to look back at your children.

“What do you want?” Aemond queries.

You watch your children, you see them smiling and talking amongst themselves as they get further away and there’s no debate on what you want. Not anymore. Your choice is clear because of them.

“I want to meet the twins,” you say as you slowly start to slip your hand away from Aemond’s grasp. “I want to raise my children. I…I want to live!”

.

.

.

.

.

A/N-No break next week is a good one!

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens @silverlightsaber @rosey1981 @amortentiaaaa

[girlz4jaem]

OUR PATHS | 11. dubs in the chat (wc: 1k) cw: mentions of cheating

JAEMIN arrived at your room within five minutes of your request, carrying a handful of your favorite snacks and the little comfort items he’d used with you the last time a storm had kept you up. as he took off his slippers, settled in, and began prepping a quick late-night meal using the dinky hotel kettle, you couldn’t help but feel your heart melt the tiniest bit. not only had he taken you up on your offer to come by, but he’d also remembered exactly what you needed on nights like this.

you both ate the instant ramen he brought over, the two of you sitting on the edge of your bed. the silence between you felt heavy, like there were words piling up but no clear path forward. yet, the ramen was almost too good for midnight, and in its own way, it helped ease the tension. it was hard to admit, even to yourself, but this was exactly what you needed. his quiet, steady presence and his little gestures of thoughtfulness, even after all this time, still made a difference.

after a few moments, you noticed jaemin watching you as you finished your last bites, a pensive look in his eyes. suddenly, he spoke, his voice almost catching, as if the words were slipping out against his own will. “i’m sorry. and i’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

your eyes widened slightly, not expecting the conversation to start like this—or even tonight at all. you tried to brush it off, hoping to avoid the inevitable heartache that you knew this talk would bring. “is this what you’ve been meaning to say the past few days? you already apologized, no?”

jaemin shook his head softly, his gaze still fixed on you. “y/n, you know that’s different... why do you keep trying to push me away?”

you took a deep breath, focusing on the ground, summoning the strength to finally open this door back up. “you really broke my heart, do you know that?”

his voice was quiet but determined. “let me be the one to put it back together, y/n, please. i really am sorry for everything. i’m sorry i didn’t get to show you how much you meant to me when i had the chance.”

a beat of silence passed, and you took a shaky breath. “do you even want to tell me why you left? because you never did. you left without saying goodbye, and that fucking sucked. i wish you would’ve at least broken up with me in person.”

jaemin’s shoulders tensed as he processed your words, his face contorted with regret. “i know. and, god, i am incredibly sorry. i know this is all still confusing and frustrating for you, but you have to know i never stopped loving you. i still love you. i just... i needed to figure things out about myself.” he paused, as if bracing himself, then continued. “a couple of days before i sent that text, i ran into my ex on a work trip.” he laughed bitterly. “it seems like I’m always running into my exes…”

he continued on,”i don’t know if you remember, because i barely mentioned her when we were together, but we were together for a long time, and she cheated on me. our relationship was messy and toxic, and she left me with a lot of trust issues and self-doubt.”

jaemin’s voice faltered briefly, but he continued. “when i saw her, i found out she’d actually signed up for the work event on purpose, just to give me ‘closure.’ but instead of helping, it brought back everything. it was like i was reliving all of it—how we ended, how messed up that relationship was. it made me realize that i hadn’t really dealt with any of it, and that i’d brought all that baggage into what we had. i needed to work through it, but i thought that would hurt you more than just ending it.”

he looked up at you, his eyes pleading. “how could i love you properly if i hated myself so much?”

your voice was barely a whisper. “but why didn’t you just tell me all of that, jaemin? i didn’t want perfect. i wanted you.”

“i know,” he replied, the weight of his guilt clear in his expression. “i shouldn’t have just left without even attempting to have a conversation. but after what she put me through, i didn’t want to put you through the same thing. i didn’t want you to feel like you had to deal with my issues for me. and, knowing you… you would’ve done just that. you would’ve sacrificed your needs and happiness for me, and i’d been in that exact position before. it always ends badly.”

the room fell silent as his words hung in the air. finally, jaemin continued, his voice softer. “i regretted it as soon as i sent that message, though. i tried to reach out, to fix things, but you blocked me on everything. i even tried to see you in person, but… ryujin told me to stay away.”

you let out a small, humorless laugh, shaking your head. “oh god… ryujin… of course.”

he hesitated on his next words, but ultimately pushed through it. “i know it’s not enough to make up for what i did. i know it’s not going to change how much i hurt you. but i need you to know that i really am here, and i’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.”

your eyes locked onto his, the vulnerability in them matching your own. “you hurt me, jaemin. and i don’t know how long it’s going to take for me to get past that.”

he nodded, his gaze dropping. “i get it. and if you want me to back off, i will. but if there’s even a small part of you that wants to give this another try, then… let me prove that i’ve changed.”

after a long moment, you finally whispered, “i’ll forgive you, jaemin.” you lowered your voice even more, “i-i still love you too.” jaemin perked up at that note. “but i need you to really show me that you mean it. prove to me that you love me the way you say you do.”

his eyes softened with a glimmer of hope. “i will. whatever it takes.”

the storm outside continued, but somehow, you felt a little more grounded.

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NOTES | omfg sorry friends i've been so busy but mayhaps this hella long and long awaited chapter is worth it!!!! TAGLIST (open!) | @polarisjisung @tommina @luvv4bby @222low @luluvhs @spideykeyring @dudekiss3r @sunghoonsgfreal @jeonghansshitester @injunnie-lemon @eternallyhyucks @njmluvr @n0hyuck @junviadinho @hyunnies-world @hahaechans @p4tyaraujo @baeseungcheolie @untilthesunrises @lotties-readings @mango-bear @angelicaleex @jungaji @luvvhaechan @lionzyon @y4wnjunz @luvandletter @applejaem @pikibell @keeryverse @botchedbrat @mystverse @t-102 @skzfairies @andyprkmyluv @gomdoleemyson

bold = couldn't tag

[rwshfordgirl]

can we be each other's company?

summary: on a rainy day in london, jude decides to take advantage of his free day before joining the national team and makes a surprise visit to his friend's house. pairing: jude bellingham × reader a/n: i'm inactive due to college activities :( i hope you like it 

no weather forecast warned me about the storm that hit today. but then again, how does a person who lives in london leave the house without an umbrella? i got home soaking wet and very angry with myself.

my mom laughed when she saw me walking past her in the living room "you're going to get sick if you keep getting caught in the rain like that." she reminded me that this wasn't the first rain shower of the week. what a horrible week, i just wanted to never leave the house again and i wish jude was here, he would laugh at me but would hug me afterwards. and i would definitely cry in his arms just because i took a shower in the rain twice in a week.

i threw my things on the floor as soon as i  entered my room and almost fainted when i heard a loud male voice in the room. "tough day, beautiful?" jude bellingham was in my room just as i asked in my mind, the heavens heard me. he was standing in front of my window and i ran to hug him. "why didn't you tell me you were coming? does my mother know you're here? why didn't she tell me?" jude was wet "and spoil the surprise?" he smiled "go change your clothes" he said.

i went to the bathroom and changed my clothes at the speed of light. it's been so long since i've seen jude and he's one of my best friends.

when i got back to the room, he was lying on my bed and he motioned for me to lie down next to him. and that's what i did, i  lay down there on top of his left arm.

"i missed you, you won't see me play anymore and hardly sends me messages."  i turned my face so i could look in his direction. "talk to my college professors and my boss, they are the reason behind it." i said "i was feeling lonely without you." he said "i doubt it, your spanish friends must have stayed with you." i said "not for a second." he replied. "okay then, if you say so."

if my mom opened the bedroom door right now, she'd see us in this position and set off fireworks in here. she keeps saying that jude and i are a couple and that i don't want to admit it. 

but i laugh when she says that, who would have thought that he and I could be a couple? well, maybe i imagined it sometimes, in the silence of the night when it's just me and the little voice inside my head. i would like to give jude little kisses and... thinking about it now, we already behave like a couple, there really is just no kissing part.

"shut up" i said mentally before getting out of bed. "i need to record a video with you, record this rare moment" i said as i picked up my phone. jude sat on the bed and i  approached him, again.

"after two months, mr. bellingham decided to show his face here." i said as i put my arm around his neck. the player looked at me and his face became expressionless. and suddenly, i was surprised by jude's kiss. i went to heaven and came back. jude bellingham kissed me. not on the cheek or forehead like he usually does, jude's soft lips touched my glossed lips.

"i've been wanting to do this for a while now." he admitted. i put my phone aside and brought our lips together once more. "i'm glad you did." i said.

kissing jude had been in my plans for a long time and apparently kissing my mouth was also in his plans. i was dating when i met jude and he was the person who supported me the most after the breakup, it was there that we practically became best friends. i don't think he approached me with ulterior motives, things just came up over time.

"i think we should try, you know?" he said "i agree" i said  "you know i like being with you, i like talking to you, i like hearing you talk and i hate not seeing you for a long time. i wish you could stay like this forever, stuck to me all the time." he vented "we can't just be friends." he admitted and i nodded "couldn't agree with you more, baby jude."

[osovereign]

out. hello this is kind of embarrassing to say, but this past week has been the worst of my fucking life. i've gotten robbed fired and in a car accident all within less than two weeks and i'm literally suffering so bad. i was already running on thin ice at my current place of employment, but everything kind of took a turn when i pulled a no call, no-show on friday because i was in a car accident and my phone had died and i was at the hospital and i had head pain, and they wanted to make sure that i did not have a concussion. i gave my job the documentation of these events, and then today i had a lady come to my job first and get me because she thought i was somebody else. mind you, i was in the hospital and i did not come to work on this past friday, but she was adamant that i was her server and that i charged her card $200 when, again, i was in the hospital. i was not at work. my manager on duty wasn't trying to fucking help me, so i yelled at her in front of everybody to get the fuck out and learn who the fuck she was talking to amongst other things because that was unacceptable my boss told me he would be doing an investigation, which i didn't understand because i physically was not at work. there's nothing to investigate. there is no way i could've charged this lady's card if i'm not at work. so we got into it about multiple things while i was still at work, and after i left, a couple hours later over the phone so she pretty much terminated me, which it's fine, but that was my primary source of income so i'm kind of screwed.

then i got robbed at gunpoint last week, and while i am physically OK, i had like all of my cash tips from the past week in my wallet, so i lost almost $400 of bill money that i can't get back because even though i filed a police report, like, the cops told me there's no way to get my money back as there's no way to track cash. my only priority at this point is just keeping my phone on because my phone is how i connect to a wifi hotspot to do stuff for university / tumblr. i know i haven't been the most active because i have a very demanding work and school schedule, but one less job means i'll have more time to write hopefully with you all. literally anything helps, even just reblogging this. i feel very bad putting all of this out there, but i'm literally at my wits end of bad event after bad event after bad event. i also apologize to the grammar for this. i'm doing voice-to-text because it's just easier for me right now. i'm thankful that i live at home and my landlord is my mother so i don't have rent to worry about, but pretty much all my other expenses and my day-to-day life do follow me besides rent. i know for that, i am a lot more privileged than other people and while i do have some savings, it's going to pretty much be used to getting me from the doctor and physical therapy appointments because i've already started legal action against the person that hit me and a hit and run, mind you.

edit: blurring license plate

[beerok23]

Runaway Groom AU - Chapter 17

With the compliments of my beta @somewhere-in-wales

Excerpt from Chapter 17 - Spirits

It was past 8 in the evening, and he was taking a stroll down the high street. After the longest day of the year, the shops were finally all closed, and all the owners had gone home to their friends and families. It was a particularly cold night, and Aziraphale could feel the chill passing through his immaculate beige coat down to his core. You could spot little puffs of air coming out from his mouth, but his recently grown beard was proving to be really helpful to protect at least his cheeks from the glacial winter. Aziraphale was so engrossed in his thoughts that he almost didn’t notice the sound of steps on the pavement behind him. He was being followed, and when he eventually realised it, he turned around in one quick motion, startling the person who was approaching him. “Fuck, Az, you scared the shit out of me!” Aziraphale chuckled at his best friend’s colourful language, “I’m sorry, Anathema. You shouldn’t have been following me like a pickpocket, then.” Anathema narrowed her eyes cunningly, “It’s funny that you should mention pickpockets, because that might have something to do with what we’re about to do tonight.” “What I am about to do is go home and wallow in the misery of the distasteful, troubled, fragile existence that I’ve carved out for myself here.” Anathema scoffed, “You sound just like Crowley.” Yes, I do. So what if Aziraphale had spent the last couple of days reading all the pieces Crowley had published in the last ten years? What if he’d been inspired by his almost lyrical language? Sue him! “What do you want from me, Ana?” Aziraphale sighed in exasperation, and the fact that he’d just short-named her was proof enough of his distress. “It’s late, it’s cold, and I want to go home.” “No, you don’t. Because tonight you will be haunted…” Anathema moved her fingers in what was supposed to be a spooky gesture, “By Three Spirits.” It was Aziraphale’s turn to narrow his eyes at his friend, “What are you talking about?!” “Without their visits you cannot hope to shun the path you’re treading.” Aziraphale had known Anathema for years, and she’d never used those two verbs since she’d become a British citizen, not once. Good Lord, he knew British scholars who’d never used the word ‘shun’. But Aziraphale knew who did use it. “Why are you quoting Dickens to me, Anathema? You know I don’t like him that mu—” Anathema thumped her feet on the ground, “Will you just shut it and let me act?!” Aziraphale smiled tenderly at his friend and waved his hands so that she knew that she could go on with whatever silliness she was up to. “I am here tonight to warn you that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping a horrible fate.” “This sounds a little bit improv.” Anathema scoffed, “Maybe if you let me finish, Mr. Scrooge, you would understand!” “Right, sure. I can most certainly shut up.” “Thanks,” Anathema nodded hard at him. “Can I take the visits all at once and have it over, Anathema?” Aziraphale was deliberately misquoting the novel, now. But two could play this game. Anathema gave him a scornful look and mouthed a silent ‘fuck you’. Aziraphale replied with a whispered ‘love you’.

[READ FROM THE BEGINNING]

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With the ineffable trailer created by @ineffablerainstorm and the support of my second beta @pookasluagh 💛🧡

[randomfoggytiger]

I did ask this to another blogger because I respect both of your viewpoints. I like hearing your analysis. I don't mean to send this to you also out of any disrespect.

OK..are Gillian and David really Mulder and Scully? Lack of communication that could clear up how they felt back in the days? He is like a little puppy and she is cold hard fierce who tries to shut off the world so she doesn't get hurt? No wonder they played those characters so well:) Thank goodness that THEY controlled the narrative to this discussion instead of having some kiss ass pompous interviewer trying to get them to truly talk about the tension so that we get "it was moist". Granted, that was a fun answer and brought out an interesting dynamic between the 2, but their frank and honest discussion is more true and loving. I love that D shared in the discussion and didn't take the interviewer seat like he has in the other podcasts. He actually participated in the real conversation and let it somewhat go in some areas naturally. Now, please, D or G, release the video so that we can see those lovely smiles and gazing eyes and, you know it happened, reaching out and touching each other.

I understand that completely, anon-- I used to (and still do) go to each inbox and ask the same question, even ones I'm principally against. Just want to know what they think, y'know?

Release the Gillian cut! XDDDD I don't think there is one; but maybe someone has clips on their phone of the two of them talking that day? That'd be fun.

You have a point, especially in the early days. David and Gillian were such young, green actors that Chris really had to cast for type.

But I WILL add: Half of the very close loved ones in my life are Gillian's (Gen X) generation, and the other half(ish) are David's (Boomer) or older. Each and every person I've talked to has said the same thing about the past: no one, and I mean no one, talked. Ever. Even in functional families; but especially in dysfunctional homes, with fragile mothers-- not without (varying) consequences. Communication was wired around what could be acceptably acknowledged without the whole house of cards tumbling down. Chris Carter slipped that into the themes of his show, too; and no wonder: his own childhood was turbulent, and communication a compoundingly fraught issue.

And I will also add, though I don't know how salient this point is: I have a Gen X mother who took one look at David, one look at Gillian, and a couple looks at their past interviews, and read them like a book. (So much so, that everything they admitted to in the podcast wasn't surprising, just confirming, for me.) I fed her bits of the Fail Better interview afterward, and she was nodding along to their interruptions and admittance that they had a hard time getting along-- she'd called that Gillian likely (accidentally) hurt David's feelings over the years unconsciously; and that DD grated on GA's nerves as much as she on his... and low and behold. But more importantly, she was nodding along to the communication issues section particularly: "Yes, that's how it was."

In short: I think Chris picked the people who could embody his characters' characteristics effortlessly. (But I also know, per his own words, that he cast for chemistry.) So, I agree¬.

What do you think, anon? :DDDDDD

Edit: Also agree concerning the pompous reporters. It was great to hear them without a third party trying to spin a narrative.

[tomwambscunts]

“Nevertheless, same individual, type of.” He has always been this way. He talked about how bad of an addict he was, how he was so good at keeping up appearances he even fooled his own parents but you people denied who he really is and wanted to believe to a persona that you have created for him in your head, which is the “tall child” image that will never ever do anything wrong and now you’re hurt yet it doesn’t give you any right to get mad or disappointed by him. It’s still your problem, again, not his.

[tortilla-of-courage]

Tortilla! Your back!

hi!!! yeah ive had the Zelda Brainworms for the past couple of months while ive been playing totk and really wanted to shake this blog back to life but kept forgetting. oops?

better late than never,