#Let the World Tour trope BEGIN

[isthemedia]

Ya'll....this was nearly 9.5k words (not including the bonus scene)

 Pt. 7: Take a Piece of Me (World Tour)-Side B

Summary:

They had no idea how much time they had left. But there had to be a way! Just some way to get Wade his healing factor back. With the TVA on their tail, they gotta find help and fast. Too bad every lead has them hitting a dead end.

Notes:

A/N: For things! Yes I am laying into the more grittier aspects of Miguel's comic backstory (dude did kill his first antag afterall) and leaning into the "Worst" title. Also CANONICALLY: Yes! Miguel did attempt to-and succeeded in curing Tempest's cancer. Yes! It was tampered by her father and made her into Spider-Wasp. Where it brainwashed her and she wound up killing Miguel in the process. Yes! The list Miguel alludes to in NO.133 would include Omega Red (if he had made it into my list of hyperfocus characters when writing this Arkady would have absolutely made an appearance-but alas)

[squidthusiast]

Ok, but why do I imagine Eight being the unofficial child of Pearl x Marina?

Because I imagine Eight was minding their business and all of a sudden, Pearl would slam the paper down and said “You’re adopted now”

Basically OTH at the start of their world tour haha, I love that they took Eight with them.

I have more detailed thoughts under the cut for those interested in my ramblings, analysis and interpretations of the characters.

Disclaimer: This is my own take on it, don’t let it ruin your fun!

I personally don’t really subscribe to the fandom’s ‘pearlina moms’ headcanon.

On the one hand, I am an absolute sucker for the ‘found family’ trope, and I definitely think Agent 8 and OTH fit in it!

On the other hand, I think people immediately put Pearl and Marina into the ‘parenthood’ box, a little too eagerly. Not saying this specific ask is that, btw, it just reminded me of some instances i’ve seen.

I personally think that the relationship between OTH and Agent 8 is a little more nuanced & sibling-esque, for the following reasons:

1. Within canon, we often see 8 being referred to as a friend by both Pearl and Marina.

Pearl does it more explicitly (see that one interview at her house), whereas with Marina it’s more insinuated (ex. In the Side Order dev diaries, she starts calling Agent 8 as ‘Eight’, which is stated to be a name used by their friends).

Pearl seems to be an accidental-duck-parent of sorts who haphazardly collects octoling teenagers & young musical talent. It goes in line with her whole mentor-esque leader personality, and i’m sure these disoriented teens find relief in an idol who seemingly knows what she’s doing (she really doesn’t).

However she doesn’t act in a parental manner. More-so like your estranged gay cousin who hit it big in another country and is down to show your queer little butt the ropes.

Marina on the other hand seems to have a more empathetic approach with Agent 8 (opposite to Pearl’s brashness). Marina clearly connects with Agent 8 through their shared experience as defected octoling soldiers, and probably sees her younger self in them. She’s already caring as it is, but this is accentuated during octo expansion given the circumstances.

I feel however that, unlike Pearl, Marina has a bit of a harder time actually forming a bond with Eight at the beginning. Their similarities (seemingly) end at their shared experience, and probably leaves Marina awkwardly wondering how to approach them further. What we can assume though is that they become closer friends during OTH’s world tour, given the events described in the Memverse Dev Diaries.

Meeting Eight during difficult circumstances (OE) and helping them get out creates a sense of camaraderie between them, which probably devolves into genuine care, established friendship and a strong bond amongst the three overtime.

2. Pearl and Marina are very career-centric both in Splat 2 and 3.

It is reasonable that the two young idols, who see their fame and musical recognition rise spectacularly & fast, are not particularly interested in settling down at this point in their lives.

Now entering her late 20s, Pearl is most definitely still interested in keeping the ball rolling with Off the Hook’s international success. Her character often points towards restlessness, freedom and discovery. There has definitely been character development in regards to her maturity in Splatoon 3, but these aforementioned traits are still ever present in her demeanour & decision-making.

Marina on the other hand can be seen slowly blossoming from a supporting character to being her own person. She definitely develops more self-confidence by Splatoon 3, but is still naturally bashful. It’s clear that she is allowing herself to explore & open up to new things for her own sake. She remains a caring and somewhat nurturing individual, but she is at a stage where she’s learning to live for herself and not for others.

Parenthood (and all the responsibilities and sacrifices it entails) at this moment of their lives would probably freak Pearl out, and stunt Marina’s personal growth.

3. The age gaps between OTH and Agent 8 are too close for it to create a parent/kid bond.

This makes their relationship a little hazy in regards to roles; 8 is still young enough that they may seek out rolemodels and mentors (still relatively influenceable), but they’re also nearing their 20s. By this point they are fairly self sufficient, have a sense of their personal values & identity, and they are relatively responsible & mature.

Pearl and Marina are 8’s seniors by approximately 4-6 years. However, in Splatoon 2 they’re entering their early 20s and their career has just begun to take off.

They are both still relatively youngsters, albeit older & more mature(? glancing at Pearl) youngsters than 8. This places them in a position where they can guide 8 and offer certain support and resources, but lack the maturity and experience of a full-fledged adult. This would approximate their relationship closer to that of siblings in a family setting.

Pearl & Marina are also less likely to feel a duty towards Eight as an adult would with a child. Instead, the latter’s circumstances are more likely to incite feelings of rapport and compassion as a fellow young inkfish.

Now, with all of this said, I will acknowledge that friendship/found family is MUCH more nuanced than a strict binary.

From personal experience in my last years of college, I did find myself caring for my fellow freshmen as though they were my kids, in certain ways. Hell, I called them my kids.

I acted as a proud parent whenever some of them achieved something, attempted to pass down my knowledge to them, and was protective of them to a certain extent.

They also annoyed me sometimes, like younger people do haha. And i’m sure I annoyed them too!

So I wouldn’t put it past OTH to call Eight their kid and have this mentor/parent-esque rapport with them in certain circumstances.

This is all based both on canon & my own interpretations of it, but still closely aligned to what has been shown in-game.

So if you have a different interpretation of Agent 8 and OTH, that’s great! I love to see people’s personal headcanons. Ultimately, Agent 8 is meant to be somewhat of a blank slate for the players to mold, with some hinted-at personality traits of their own.

As long as you have fun with these characters, that’s all that matters. This is just my personal opinion on their relationship in-game.

If you read all of this, you deserve the biggest golden star for listening to my incessant yapping 🤲⭐️

Feel free to bother me about this or other opinions you may have in my inbox, just be kind please!

[rems-writing]

The Doberman

》 Pairing: bodyguard!Yeosang x rapper afab!reader

》 Trope: friends to lovers

》 Wordcount: 2,443 words

》 Rating: mature

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet

I am tagging @acupoftaewithsomesuga since I love fucking with her and @frenchkisstheabyss since Yeo has been wrecking her lately :3

You had just wrapped up yet another concert for your world tour and even had a special guest come out to perform a new song that you three have collabed on. 

The special guest was the rapper duo Matz. 

After you had thanked everyone in the crowd for coming out tonight and bid them goodnight, you walked off backstage and took off the fur coat that you wore throughout the performance. As you took off the ridiculously huge sunglasses that were bedazzled with so many tiny diamonds, you blinked rapidly to adjust your sight to the dimly lit dressing room that you had walked into. You sat in front of the brightly lit vanity mirror and proceeded to remove your makeup. Since you were jumping around and moving a lot, it had caused a lot of sweat to drip down your face. While you were putting on facial moisturizer, you felt a pair of huge arms wrap around you. Since you were sitting on a stool, those arms were securely around your waist. You relaxed under the familiar touch and looked up to see your best friend smiling at you. 

“Hi, Sangie~”

Kang Yeosang, known as the Doberman, was by far the most intimidating bodyguard you’ve hired. A lot of people never took him seriously at first due to his statue-esque face and his overall soft personality, but you knew better. Ever since you two were kids, you’ve known him to be a tough guy. He may not seem like the confrontational type nor the type to get angry so easily, but push the right buttons and you just might find yourself underneath the unnerving gaze of the angel turned demon. You recalled the first time you guys met. 

You were being bullied by your old high school’s football captain. He tripped you while his girlfriend, the head cheerleader, popped her bubblegum bubble and laughed wickedly at you as you tried to get up and gather your things. The laughter from the cheerleader soon turned into a frightened whimper and you looked up to see a furious Yeosang squeezing the captain’s wrist harshly, almost to the point of breaking it. Afraid that an adult might see, you stood up and hugged him from behind quickly. 

“Please… not here. Someone might see.”

When he looked at you, you swore you were staring into the eyes of an angel. His fiery fury melted into the softest expression that you knew would be reserved for you one day if you played your cards right. He let the captain go with a shove, causing him to stumble backwards and topple onto his teammates. He whipped his head around and spoke in a voice that basically clawed its way from the depths of hell. 

“If I catch you bothering her again, you will suffer from more than just a broken wrist.”

That’s how deep it was. 

You saw them run away and you looked up at him, bewildered by the fact that he now looked at you with a small shit eating grin on his face. 

“Come have lunch with me!”

And the rest was history. 

From that moment alone, you knew that you two would be attached at the hip and support each other along the way to your rising careers. When you first got signed to RM Records, owned by Kim Namjoon himself, the first thing you established before signing the contract was to have Yeosang as your personal bodyguard. Namjoon was hesitant at first, but once he saw Yeosang, he was impressed with his strength and the way he carried himself as he protected from harm. Since then, he’s always been at your side. From the beginning until now. 

“Ready for the afterparty?”

“Absolutely not. But tonight was successful so I might as well go.”

One thing never changed and that was your hatred for social gatherings. Luckily, you never went to a lot of them. However, you still had a lot of adrenaline in you so you figured that you’d use it all up at this afterparty that you were invited to. After making sure the moisturizer was dried up, you stood up and went into a different room to change into a different outfit. Per usual, Yeosang stood outside your door with his mask on and his sharp eyes looked around everywhere. When you finished, Yeosang turned around and his jaw almost dropped. 

You looked gorgeous. 

You wore a gray AC/DC shirt that was cut and styled into a crop top, a dark green plaid skirt that was high waisted, and emerald green Converse shoes that were low-cut. Another thing that never changed about you despite your career as a rapper? Your grunge/punk rock aesthetic when it comes to your clothing. Yeosang knew that the tight clothing that showed a bit too much was something you didn’t like, but since you didn’t want to be mistaken for the lead singer of a rock band, you had to research what female rappers wore and you made sure that the tight clothing was only reserved for concerts. After all, you wanted to keep your rapper persona and your true self separated. 

“Ok, Sangie. You can close your mouth. You might catch a fly. I know I look good.”

“Damn right you fucking do.”

Yeosang said it quietly to himself as he watched you gather your things and follow you towards the limousine that was parked outside of the venue. He would never admit it, but he fell for you a long time ago. However, he blatantly assumed that you didn’t feel the same way so he kept his feelings to himself. The venue was packed with fans and paparazzi being held back by barricaded gates and a lot of security guards. You kept your head down and walked as quickly as you could while Yeosang shielded you from the blinding lights that each camera’s flash emitted. One lucky, or unlucky, photographer jumped over the barricade and ran towards you before aiming his camera at you. 

“SMILE, CHESHIRE!”

Before you could protest or even hear the camera go off, you saw a gloved hand reach over you and crush the camera lens into pieces. Your eyes widened as Yeosang glared at the photographer, who was shaking in his boots. 

“Step away from her.”

Yeosang practically growled at him and watched with a bit of satisfaction as the photographer ran away. Soon, that very same gloved hand rested itself on your lower back and urged you forward so you could step into the limo first. Once you were inside, Yeosang followed in after you and closed the door, sighing deeply as he closed his eyes and threw his head back. You didn’t know why, but you found the sight attractive. The way his chest was heaving up and down, his forehead glistening with sweat, and the strands of his black hair blocking the birthmark that you loved so dearly? Even when he was catching his breath, he looked like a god. It didn’t help that he removed his gloves so his hands could gently grab your thigh. It was natural of him to do that. You normally didn’t mind that, but tonight felt different. Yet you didn’t find it in you to shove his hand off. It just felt right. 

“Yunho, drive!”

Your driver nodded and soon took off to the place where the afterparty was. It was a bit of a drive so you had ample time to rest. As you closed your eyes, your mind drifted off to scenarios that involved you & Yeosang in a lot of different positions. 

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

You hated it. 

The afterparty was a full mess. The music was a weird mix of EDM and pop, there were so many bodies on the dance floor basically humping each other rather than dancing, and on top of that, the alcohol was absolute shit. You wanted to go home, but you knew Yunho needed to get his break in so you let him take his 30 while you were sipping on a vodka cranberry cocktail and observing the scene unfolding in the safety of a secluded booth. Yeosang stood beside you and watched everyone like a hawk to make sure you were safe. It was like this for a few minutes until a group of drunk guys and girls walked past you. One of them, who definitely had too much to drink, pointed at you and sneered at you loudly. 

“WHY DOES SHE GET TO SIT BY HERSELF WHILE WE HAVE TO WALK AROUND?!”

Yeosang noticed the commotion and came in between you and her. Even in the poor lighting of the club, you could make out every single trace and curve of his back muscles through the black dress shirt he sported. 

“Ma’am, I suggest you move along.”

“AYE DON’T TALK TO MY GIRL LIKE THAT! LET HER TALK HER SHIT!”

Yeosang resisted the urge to roll his eyes in annoyance and simply whipped out a black & silver dagger before aiming the sharp blade at the man’s throat. 

“You do not have to yell in my ear like that, sir.” 

Yeosang was thrown off by the woman’s overly manicured hand running over his arm. Each drag of her nails across his biceps and muscled forearm sent you spiraling downwards into a pit of unplaced jealousy. However, you didn’t have to do anything about it since Yeosang grabbed the woman’s wrist and squeezed it tightly. 

“If you and your posse do not move along, I will use force. And trust me. You do not want to push me any further.”

The venom dripping into his tone meant serious business. The woman freed herself from his grasp and ran away, her friends following behind. The man called him a crazy bastard before fleeing the scene as well. Yeosang sighed and put away the dagger before turning to you and reaching a hand out. 

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s go back to the hotel.”

You nodded wordlessly and took his hand before following him out of the club. 

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

How did you end up here? 

One minute, you two were seated side by side in the limo and Yeosang helped you sober up. The next minute, you were straddling him, kissing himself fiercely and passionately as your fingers tugged at his hair. Yeosang kissed back with the same fervor, his gloves discarded so his palms could map every inch of your skin as his hands cupped under your thighs. 

Finally, you two were back in your hotel room. You were on your knees, hands splayed on his slack-covered thighs, and your mouth stretched open by his undeniably thick cock. Yeosang threw his head back and let out such beautiful moans as his fingers tangled in your head and pushed you down even further onto his cock, forcing you to deepthroat him. You gagged a bit and Yeosang cooed at the sight of your fucked out face, eyes brimming with tears, and drool coming down the corners of your mouth. 

“Relax your throat, beautiful. Yeah that’s it.” 

You’d never thought you’d live to see yourself choking on your best friend’s dick, yet here you were. Were you complaining? Nope! Did you two need to talk about what you guys were after this? Yes. 

“Look at you, choking on my cock. You can take more, and you definitely did. You showed me that you’re such a good fucking girl by taking it all. Fuck! I love you so much.”

The praise and sudden confession lit a fire within you and you sped up your actions, fondling his balls as well. Yeosang couldn’t take it anymore and held your head still before moving his hips so he could fuck your face. You felt his tip touch the back of your throat and you moaned at the feeling. The vibrations sent a shockwave of pleasure through him and he knew he was close. However, he wanted something different. Without warning, he stopped and pulled out of your mouth quickly before helping you stand up and smashing his lips onto yours. You felt his tongue turn 180 degrees as he explored the inside of your mouth. When he pulled away, a string of saliva connected your moths before it broke apart. 

“Stand against the wall and strip.”

His deep voice was husky and sensual and you didn’t think twice before doing what he said. As you slowly stripped, you kept your eyes on him. He did the same while he unbuttoned his shirt with one hand and shoved his pants down with the other. When both of you were fully naked, you took a minute to admire each other before Yeosang came closer to you. He grabbed your hips and lifted you up before making you wrap your legs around his slim waist and sinking you down onto his cock. You mewled and whined at how easy he slid in yet felt the stretch since again, his cock was undeniably thick. Yeosang leaned in and connected your foreheads, taking in the feeling of being inside you before proceeding to thrust in and out of you at a brutal pace. Your arms were hooked under his so you took the opportunity to leave scratch marks down his back. It seemed to turn him on even more since he went faster. 

“Fuck, baby! That’s it. Mark me. Fucking mark me. Make sure the world sees that I’m yours. Because you know damn well that you’re mine.”

His dirty words caused you to moan and Yeosang looked at you briefly before leaning down to your neck to kiss and mark it up. His grip on you tightened and he groaned at the feeling of you clenching around him. 

“I’m close, Sangie!”

“Fuck. Me too.”

Seconds later, the both of you reached your orgasms together. Your arousal dripped down his cock while his seed shot up in you. He stayed inside of you for a few minutes to make sure every single drop was emptied out of him. He soon pulled out yet he still held you close to him. 

“Come on. Let’s shower together.”

“Ok, but… we need to talk about what we are in the meantime.”

“I know for a fact that I’m deeply in love with you and I’d actually take rejection over being friends-with-benefits. You’re too good for that and I hate sharing.”

“Luckily, you don’t have to worry about rejection nor establishing a situationship with me. I’m deeply in love with you too.”

Yeosang smiled and kissed both your cheeks before carrying you into the bathroom so you two could wash up.

“So what do you want for breakfast tomorrow?”

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Perfect Score - Chapter 5 - Ice Princess | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: Moving on to the North, before the match with Cregan and Sara, everything comes to a head | Word Count: 7.2k~ | Warnings under the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: *deep breath* jealous!aemond, swearing, degradation, heaps of sexual tension, one room in the hotel trope, aemond being a sexual menace, a lot of dirty talk, p in v unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, creampie, mild angst

A/N: *me barking writing all the warnings* I ain't got nothing else to say I-

Comments, reblogs & likes are always appreciated in this household. I love u 😚

“What the fuck was that?!” El shouts over the video call, making you cradle your face in your hands. 

She’s showing you her front camera, tapping on the TV in front of her as she rewinds the footage of your routine at Casterly Rock. She must have replayed that specific part about ten times now.

She taps the screen harshly, “Look at that! You’re fucking blushing, you whore!”

“El, please” you reply, exasperated.

“Is that a fucking bruise on your leg”

"El!" You shout over the phone, making her press her lips together in a mischievous grin.

"Did you get a bit too cozy?" She teases,

"Fuck off"

"You both look completely different. Also that triple spin, that was fucking perfect"

"Thank you" you say flatly, rolling your eyes, remembering doing it in the routine.

You don't remember the time between the dressing room and getting on the ice. Just the steady hum of the crowd's applause as the announcer welcomed the representatives of the Crownlands.

"Performing second is Aemond Targaryen with his not-so-new skating partner, who proved herself significantly in the deciding match for the Championship tour"

"They were both very icy in that performance. Let's see if anything has improved"

You run over all the jumps and spins, in case your mind is so preoccupied that you've somehow forgotten. Smoothing down your hair and your skirt, desperately trying to hide any proof of his fingerprints, you take your spot in the middle of the ice.

For this routine, it begins with Aemond facing you, and when he pauses to a halt before you, you meet his gaze briefly, feeling the warmth creeping up to your cheeks.

Before he left the dressing room, he looked nervous. But that facade is gone. He looks deadly serious, and you hate to admit that the look he's giving you, performance or not, is so piercing and purposeful that it's almost exciting. Arousing? No, focus.

At the other match, his touch had been calculated, firm and almost rigid. His movements were largely the same, as you had pointed out only the day before. But now, his touch is so whisper soft it's almost undetectable. His fingers dance across your bare skin, a path of goosebumps left in their wake. Except this time, his eyes barely ever leave yours, fully aware of the effect of his touch and a ghost of a smile lob-sided on his face.

Every single touch of his hands on your waist to lift you, every hold to lunge into a jump together and every shared gaze never fails to have your stomach roll pleasantly inside you, settling between your thighs where Aemond had touched you not a moment before.

You come together, skating backwards for the triple spin. His hands brace your waist, and you swallow anxiously.

"Remember to tuck your arms in" he whispers, you nod, running over what you need to do, "you've got this"

"I'm seeing a stark difference in attitude in this performance. Perhaps our icy couple are starting to warm up"

Taking a steadying breath, Aemond does as he needs and flings you in the air, ready to catch you once you've done one, two, three spins, before taking your hand once you land.

Right leg, push…

You can't help but smile when you land it. That's the best feeling in the world, when the crowd applauds.

"She's done it! Another graceful landing!"

You release the breath you'd been tightly holding, gliding through the rest of the routine with Aemond to the view of the stands, some of them stood and some seated in applause.

It's only when you are stopped, with Aemond's arms around your middle and feeling his hurried breath against your back, that you can finally form a thought. Your heart beats furiously in your chest, lungs dry.

"Well done" he breathes, hot against the shell of your ear. The praise goes straight to your core.

"Oop, I saw that look. Perhaps the Ice Prince has an Ice Princess in his sights"

"Oh come on, look at the way he's looking at you!" El beams over the video call, tearing you from your thoughts, "I swear to all the gods, if y'all don't smash-"

"Can I have one conversation with you that isn't about fucking please?"

El pulls a face, "What can I say. Hoes United. Are you kidding me? Ice Princess? He better be calling you princess between the sheet-"

"Goodbye, El"

You hang up, heaving a large sigh, staring forwards at the bed with your packed duffle bag, ready to depart once again in the car with Arryk. 

It was clear as day, the difference between you and Aemond. The attitude.

The commentators dubbed you his 'Ice Princess', a nickname which you hate immensely. Several reporters had flocked to the hotel you were both staying in, all hanging around Arryk's car waiting for a chance to speak to the famed 'couple'.

The match was a success at least, no doubt because of the 'warming up' to one another, as the commentators graciously put it. You received good scores, marginally better technically than Johanna and Jason but ultimately winning most on performance, the former of which wiggled her eyebrow at you as she hugged you in congratulations during scoring.

She didn't dare say anything. The cameras would pick it up, no doubt.

A seasoned pro in that respect.

As per usual, you and Aemond were hauled into the back of Arryk's car provided by Hightower Management, sat together on opposite ends. 

Also as usual, Aemond had his airpods shoved inside his ears, turned away towards the window. Usually, you'd be able to hear the music blasting through his earphones. But you couldn't hear a thing. 

Perhaps he just wanted to be left alone.

His hands were clasped tight in his lap, his left leg bouncing. And you had to turn away towards your own window to stop staring at him in his sweatpants, feeling your face and neck get hot just thinking about what happened between you two.

The journey to Winterfell was several hours. You couldn't possibly be faster getting out the car and grabbing your stuff, walking straight past Aemond to go into the foyer of 'The Lone Wolf', a humble yet large hotel in the heart of Winterfell. Owned by none other than the Stark Family, so the idea of seeing Cregan before the match sent anxious flutters in your stomach.

"Good morning, Miss" the receptionist says with a polite customer service brimmed smile.

"Hello, uh, should be some rooms booked under Hightower?"

She nods, her fingernails clicking against the keyboard, "Just let me check for you…"

You ignore the white-haired male in your periphery, leaning against the desk by one of his forearms, one airpod now safely tucked away. When you spare a brief glance, he's not looking at you, but at the woman as she types quickly, flexing his fingers on the desk. You swallow thick at the closeness, sidestepping an inch.

The lady pulls a face.

"I'm afraid there seems to have been an administrative issue with the booking…"

Your skin starts to erupt in worry, "what issue?.."

The receptionist meets your eyes, her lips drawn flat in apology, "There is only one room on the Hightower booking…"

You go cold all over, staring back for a long moment without saying anything.

"A twin?" you ask,

She shakes her head, "a double.."

Your hand braces your forehead, leaning against the desk, "Fuck"

An awkward silence passes before you ask, "there aren't any other rooms?"

"I'm afraid not. We're full because of the skating match in a few days"

Aemond bites the inside of his cheek, his face stoic, "Is there a sofa? In the room?"

She reluctantly nods, "Yes but only a 2 seater-"

"That's fine" Aemond says immediately, holding his hand out and clapping the keycard in his grasp. He sighs and turns to you, smirking slightly at the horrified look on your face, "Let's go then, business partner"

You feel like you stand stock still, frozen into place, your heart hammering in your chest at the thought of sharing such intimate space with Aemond.

I've got to be the most fucking unlucky person in Westeros.

By the time you catch your breath, having checked to see if Arryk had already left (which unfortunately he had), you're walking hurriedly to the room, standing before the numbered door for a moment as if to psych yourself up for the next day and a bit that will be inevitably be spent in extremely close proximity with Aemond.

The hotel room is luckily wide, with an en-suite situated in the corner as well as a wide curved window that looks out over the roof of another building. Aemond shucks his bag onto the sofa, his well muscled back moves as he unzips it and pulls his belongings out.

He barely moves his head, "You gonna unpack or just stand there?"

Hot embarrassment combined with subtle anger nips at your insides. You pull your lips into a flat line to hold you back from retorting and huff your bag onto the bed, pulling off your jacket. 

Aemond won't stop you from getting comfortable.

"Will you fit on that 2-seater?"

Aemond shrugs, still busied with unpacking, "I've slept on worse"

Usually, unpacking is a time for relaxation, making a home of the hotel room. But here, with Aemond, it feels like you're on guard the entire time, methodically grabbing the more intimate items of clothing and putting them away as quickly as you can.

Suddenly, the shorts you're wearing feels just a bit too revealing, the hem lapping at your thighs barely. Every now and then, you feel his gaze on them, setting every hair on edge. But when you look back at him, he just does that little lob-sided smug smile, pretending to be busy with something else.

You push your palms over the skirt of your dress anxiously, feeling a nervous sweat coat them "Okay well…" you murmur awkwardly, "I'm gonna…to go downstairs for a bit"

You're barely turned, hand on the door when Aemond chuckles, low, in his chest, "Desperate to get away from me, hm?"

You freeze, not daring to turn back. All you can hear is the soft press of his trainers on the carpet as he turns away, and you just know he's looking at you. 

The inside of your mouth is so dry.

"I know what you're thinking, I can see it on your face" he muses quietly, his voice edging closer to your back as you're frozen on the spot, "I know you've been thinking about what we did, in the dressing room"

No I haven't.

Yes I have.

Fuck.

As much as the thoughts whizz around your head, they don't make the connection to your mouth. You can feel how close Aemond must be to your back, and your fingers tighten over the handle of the door.

"You have, haven't you?" He grins darkly, his voice an octave lower, quieter, more calculated, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it"

Your breath is stuck in your ribs, arousal pooling slowly in your belly, like the calm tide of the ocean sweeping in to wet the sand. 

You feel his breath against your neck and ear, blowing the hair at the side of your face. His mere presence behind you. 

"See you tonight"

Almost as soon as he says it, you're out the door, pushing it shut behind you forcefully. Shutting out the feeling that you desperately want to disappear. The mere memory of his hands on your bare thighs that day sets urgency in your core, hands clenched tight at your sides. 

But more than anything, the way he kissed you, was the feeling you remembered the most. You recall moments after he'd rushed out, touching your kiss-swollen lips, willing the feeling of them back, realising just what line had been crossed.

Aemond Targaryen was an infuriatingly good kisser. Just like the way he moves on the ice, he's smooth and deliberate, taking his time. And it translated in the passion of that moment, the way his hand had grasped the back of your neck, and the other had spread your legs to accommodate him standing between them…

…How his hardness had pressed against your clothed core.

Aemond had been aroused.

Everything you thought about him, about how he felt about you, could very well be misplaced. 

You don't know how to feel about that.

It goes against everything you thought. Everything you believed.

And he still hasn't apologised. He'd said pretty words, all but those two you really needed.

Nothing would happen until he did. You'd make sure of that.

Torture him right back. It's the least he deserves.

Prick.

The hotel bar is better than anticipated, with several tables and chairs, even stools that line the front of the large oak counter on one side of the room. You don't usually partake in drinking, or at least much. But every now and then you feel you deserve it.

And right now for example, it's taking the edge off.

The large glass windows show you just how dark outside it already is, with the streetlights beaming through the single glazing. The North is different, obviously, but you didn't quite consider the weather.

Your muscles ache from doing your cardio, choosing to train on the ice tomorrow instead, the day before the match with Cregan and Sara. The hotel gym was nice, and each time you went into the hotel room to change, you worried about running into Aemond.

But luckily he was nowhere to be found.

Where he'd gone?

Not your problem, you surmise.

You were dressed once again in black, but nowhere near as flashy as the after-party from weeks before, but still a nice enough dress that it completely didn't work with the use of a bra. Hightower Management had organised a small get-together of the skaters currently in the North, as a way of showing support, despite all of you being quite literally competitors.

This includes the Singles skaters.

With that, they insisted you and Aemond look presentable.

You were there early, as a means of…avoiding Aemond in the hotel room. With so far, success.

A few figures begin to leak into the bar area, a few you don't recognise, but then a sea of silver-hair you actually would like to see.

Baela and Rhaena, clad in equally stunning blue dresses, bound up to you with gleaming teethy smiles. You stand excitedly meeting them in the middle, a shared female squeal of excitement is the only sound emitted.

"There she is!" Baela shouts, and both the twins envelop you in an equally tight hug.

"Jesus, guys there's only one of me, bit looser please" you joke, pretending to be out of breath.

They pull back, their silver curls sitting loose with silver accessories, "Our Ice Princess!" Rhaena jabs with a mischievous smile.

You can't help but roll your eyes, "Don't you fucking start, I've had enough of that"

Baela laughs, "had enough of your Ice Prince as well?" 

You give her a warning look and the twins hold back their smile, dropping the subject as per your glare. Knowing how you can get.

"How is Pairs?" Rhaena asks,

You sigh, "Different" is all you respond, "How's Singles? Rhaenys giving you a hard time?"

They both groan comically at the same time, "is she? When is she not giving us a hard time? She's our grandmother"

You laugh, sipping your drink, "Ah yeah, forgive me, I do forget sometimes she's a gilf"

"She's not a gilf!" Baela retorts, making you snort a laugh. Almost dropping the glass in your hand.

"Who's not a gilf?" 

You all turn and beam, "Jace! When did you get here!" Baela throws herself at him, as does Rhaena as soon as her sister lets go. Sometimes you forget they're cousins, they look so different.

"Hi Jace" you smile, "How have you been?" You ask giving him a hug, which he returns with one hand politely on your back.

"Alright, competitions kicking my ass though"

"Oh dear" you pout, faking a sad face and patting his shoulder, "You'll get over it"

"Thanks, you're so kind" Jace grins.

Over his shoulder you spot him, lurking in a corner with a phone pressed to his ear. 

Aemond.

He's dressed all in black again, hair in a loose bun, with a button down and dress pants, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a chain that glints beneath the collar. You swallow at his expression.

He doesn't look pleased in the slightest.

But annoyingly, he does look good.

His eye flits from you and Jace, before realising that you're watching him, to which his attention falls entirely to you. You wonder if he's actually on the phone since he doesn't say anything.

"There she is. The Ice Princess" Cregan Stark obstructs your view for a moment and you smile politely.

"Hi, Cregan-umf"

Your outstretched hand in greeting is completely ignored as Cregan pulls you into a hug, his massive form completely swallowing yours.

"You're in the North, we hug here" he laughs, the vibrations rumbling through your chest, his hand politely in the middle of your back to gently squeeze the hug for longer than you'd think.

Your eyes immediately go to Aemond, over his shoulder. He hasn't moved an inch. But he's hung up his phone, slapping it on his thigh to shove into his pocket. You can't pin down what that look is, but the muscle in his jaw tenses when he looks at Cregan, softening into a smirk when the Northerner pulls away.

Your throat feels tight.

"I know you've been thinking about what we did, in the dressing room"

He doesn't look away, eyes trained on your body. Unabashedly raking over it.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about it"

"Drinks!" Baela announces, dragging you luckily to the bar, breaking your staring competition with Aemond.

As the night progresses, you get to know Cregan and Sara. They couldn't be more different from one another, despite being half siblings. Sara has a fire in her belly, and a competitive eye, whereas Cregan is like a big, muscly Northern golden retriever. He looks like the kind of guy who lifts at the gym in one breath and in another would be having afternoon tea with his grandmother.

The duality takes you off guard multiple times during the night.

Jace and Cregan at least seem very close, having trained together multiple times. They're like long lost brothers, the way Cregan has him in a soft headlock as they wobble back to the bar, is proof enough.

Sara leans close to you, "Is he always like that?"

"Who?" You ask, sipping the drink you've been nursing for hours. Not wanting to get drunk in the slightest.

She nods to the corner, "Your Ice Prince. Aptly named by the way he stares at you"

You follow her line of sight, your core instantly clenching at the sight of him. Perhaps you hadn't really realised it before but several of his top buttons are undone, showing more of his skin at a formal event than he had previously.

You swallow, "Oh, uh, yeah he is. Ignore him"

Sara smirks, "Girl, he wants to fuck you. Can you not see that?"

You turn urgently to her, cheeks ablaze, "That's not true"

Sara hums smugly, "Denial is a river in Egypt. He looked like he wanted to tear Jace's head off when you hugged him"

"Jace is just a friend"

"Oh good, so he's available?" Sara raises her eyebrows.

Now it's your turn to smirk, "Are you after him?"

She shrugs, "he's not bad looking. Guy like him might look harmless but I bet he's freaky between the sheets. With a massive c-"

"Sara!" Cregan interrupts, seeing your screwed up face, clearly having heard everything, "Can we have a moment alone?"

She doesn't even need a second, before she prances off in Jace's direction, giving him the big eyes. Cregan leads you to the bar by the small of your back, and you can't tell if he's oblivious to how intimate that is, or if it's intentional, but when he does it you can't help but look in Aemond's direction, who's being hounded by Baela, but clearly not listening.

Cregan smirks in Sara's direction, "Poor guy. Being in Sara's sights is never good"

You laugh, "She'll eat him alive"

"Quite literally I think" Cregan chuckles in return.

There's a pause as you lean against the bar.

"How's life with the Targs?" He asks, one large hand encircling a pint glass effortlessly.

You shrug, "Has it's trials and tribulations, but otherwise they've treated me well enough"

Cregan looks around before leaning forward, murmuring in a hushed manner, "All I would say is, be weary of the big guy"

You cock your head, "You mean Otto?"

He points his finger like you've hit the nail on the head, "Yeah, him. I heard he's a right fucking stickler"

You nod, "He's very particular" you smile, reassuringly, "I manage though"

Cregan is about to open his mouth when Aemomd steps forward, his tall stature rivaling Cregans as he makes himself known. The Northern man fakes a smile, nodding in greeting, but neither says anything.

Before you can inquire, Aemond's hand encircles your forearm, "We're leaving"

"What?" You ask wide-eyed, wondering from where this rudeness has come from. 

Aemond tugs you away, and you wave goodbye to Cregan as well as Baela and Rhaena, whose eyes you catch across the room. Sara wiggles her eyebrows.

Aemond doesn't reply, so you fight against his grip, to no avail, "Aemond let go of me. Now"

It's clear Aemond is not listening, and if he is, he doesn't show it on his face. He even stops by the lift, pressing the buttons hurriedly, but once he sees which floor it's coming from, he grumbled and drags you instead up the stairs.

"Aemond, what the fuck is wrong with you!"

"Not having that northern cunt cosying up to you" he murmurs low, dragging you up the four flights of stairs to your floor. Luckily there's nobody there to see you both, it's so late at night.

His face is stoic, lips flat in a line, seething underneath.

"Are you fucking for real? Let go of me!"

It's only when you're in the hallway, stood before the hotel room door that you manage to pull your arm free of him.

"Are you fucking deaf?" You quip angrily, "what the hell was that Aemond?" You push against his chest as hard as you can, but he's built like a fucking brick wall and doesn't move an inch. Doesn't even lose his balance a little.

He doesn't say anything for a moment.

"Do I have to repeat myself? I'm not your fucking girlfriend Aemond! Stop treating me like one"

"You'd rather me let you have the likes of Cregan fucking Stark trying to get into your-"

"So what? What right do you fucking have to boss me around like you own me?" You retort, "besides he was just being nice!"

Aemond chuckles, "Oh yeah, just being nice. He only had one thing on his mind" he smirks, his gaze raking over your dress, "dressed like that, who knows what he was thinking"

"Excuse m-"

Down the hall, a room clicks open, the shadow of it moving barely before Aemond tugs you inside the hotel room out of view. He shuts the door and locks it quickly, his fingers once again curled around your forearm.

"I swear to god, if you grab me more time-"

Aemond scoffs, releasing and facing you, dwarfing you with his form as he approaches, "Or what, princess?" 

You swallow, backing up somewhat when he takes his calculated small steps towards you. His chest level with your eyes, you see the chain poking out beneath the undone buttons, the slightest bit of skin…

"Don't call me that"

"Who can blame Cregan fucking Stark anyway? With you dressed like that" Aemond responds, invading your space even further.

Your throat goes dry, "What?.."

"The second I saw you in that flimsy little thing, all I've been able to think about, is how I'm going to take it off"

Through your fierce blush, you clench your hands, your core doing the same involuntarily, "you're delusional"

He hums a laugh, "You're cute when you're trying to be angry, princess"

You feel how short your breathing is, how your chest goes all tight. It feels like being hunted, when he looks at you like that. That mischievous glint in his good eye.

"What is your fucking deal, hm?" You retort, feeling a last rush of courage, "Does it give you some sick satisfaction making my life hell? First you hate me, then you're indifferent, then you're hating me all over again and now you're acting like th-"

His hand claps around your waist, squeezing painfully, tugging you towards him in a deep, near-desperate and dizzying kiss. Much like the first one in the dressing room, it's urgent, his lips prying yours apart to slip his tongue into your mouth, humming deeply at the contact with yours. His other hand quickly finds the back of your head, anchoring you with him and chests touching only barely.

Everything dissipates, he's a good fucking kisser annoyingly, and he sucks briefly on your lips, making the blood rush to them so that they're swollen from his attention.

Your brain, lost in the brief act of passion, kicks in finally and your hands push him away. Your lips part from each other with a wet click, your face noticeably flush. Aemond too, looks slightly flushed, but wears a smug expression.

"What the hell was that"

"You reciprocated" he answers matter-of-factly,

"In your dreams"

He hums, "So stubborn. Are you always like this?"

"Fuck you"

"In the dressing room, you were so intent to continue" he replies, stepping forward slightly from when you'd pushed him, "If we weren't due to perform, nothing would have stopped me from fucking you right on that table in your sparkly little get-up"

You can't deny how the air gets sucked out your chest when he says that. Hate and lust are head to head inside you, battling for dominance.

"You'd like that wouldn't you…"

It's the way he says the words, so low and calculated, with that lazy smirk. His lips just as kiss bruised as yours, the few strands of hair that fell from his bun, disheveled.

All of your pent up hormones from not having slept with anyone for ages, the memory of what he did in the dressing room, as well as the sight of him right here, giving you that fucking look…

Every fucking look he's given you the past few weeks.

The memory of his hand on your thigh, squeezing.

Every hand against the small of your back…

…something snaps.

"Fuck it" you whisper, advancing on him again, both hands cupping the sides of his face and kissing him fiercely again, putting all those bottled up emotions, good and bad, behind the intensity of it.

You feel him smile smugly against you, his hands rested on your hips, fingers digging into the fabric of your dress, "Fucking knew it" he murmurs between the breaks of both your hateful kisses.

One hand sliding round to the back of his head, you card your fingers into his hair, inevitably ruining whatever style he had it in, to pull him closer to you, intensifying the neediness of his lips against yours. You swear he moans at the tugging of his hair, but you don't even hear it, too concentrated on his teeth as they nip at your bottom lip, nursing the area with his tongue afterwards.

A full body shudder erupts through you, sending a gush of arousal straight between your legs. It makes you feel weightless.

As if that weren't enough, Aemond's hands drop, cupping and kneading the flesh of your ass, squeezing near-painfully. The unexpectedness of it makes you gasp into his mouth as he pulls your core that bit closer to his hips, where you can feel the evidence of his arousal hard in his dress pants.

Your hands can't help but explore him as well as he is for you, running across the planes of his well-muscled chest, feeling them strain under your touch like he's holding back. Your fingers run over his chain, dipping to undo the buttons with dizzying speed.

"Eager, are we?" He whispers cockily between kisses.

You shoot him a scathing look, punctuating your words with the rough undoing of more buttons.

"Do you ever shut up"

He doesn't reply, too entranced by the softness of your touch on his bare pale skin as it's revealed button by button. His own hands trace up your middle, over your ribs and straight past your breasts to the straps of your dress, tangling his fingers into one and them and pulling it over your shoulder. Not quite enough to expose any intimate part of you.

Fuck, he's teasing you.

His lips migrate past yours, his nose ghosting over your cheek to your neck, where his lips tease the sensitive skin with open-mouthed kisses, teeth nipping at the space where it meets your shoulder. It's rougher than anticipated, and a soft breathy moan slips out, only serving to spur him on.

His one hand on our waist pushes you back, your knees hitting the mattress sending your body against it. He follows you, cushioning the fall and looming over you, using one of his knees to edge your legs apart for him.

In the heat of it all you've managed at least to get his shirt entirely open, shifting the fabric from his shoulders, shamelessly appreciating the shape of him. Your fingers trail that little bit of hair leading beneath his belt, feeling how the muscles of his abdomen flex with the contact, hearing the whisper of a low moan in his throat.

It's only when your hand begins to massage the very obvious and, you hate to say it, impressive bulge of his erection, that Aemond lets out a shuddered quiet moan, his breath fluttering against your neck.

You smirk, "Eager, are we?" You tease, echoing his previous words.

It's like a switch flipped and Aemond rights himself slightly, one hand taking both of yours and pinning them above your head in a very sudden act of dominance. He revels in the shocked look on your face, his black shirt now forgotten on the floor.

"Keep them there. You won't like it if I have to ask twice, Princess"

His voice send a bolt of pleasure to your core, and you visibly swallow nervously, watching his hands dip to your thighs and pushing the fabric of your dress up to your hips.

You jump in your place as Aemond's hands brace your thighs roughly, parting them and bringing his lips to the sensitive skin on the inside, trailing them up slowly, teasingly, to place an open-mouthed kiss to your clothed core.

"You have no idea what you do to me" he murmurs against you, wrapping the hem of your underwear around his fingers and tugging them off your legs. The motion, as quick as he does it, leaves your lungs breathless for a moment as he descends and kisses the now bare skin on the crease where your hip meets your thigh.

"Aemon-" 

Aemond's tongue swipes through your slick folds and he groans low at the taste which sends a deep thrum of want through your core, making everything seem just too much to bear. Too much and yet too little all at the same time.

"Fuck, baby…"

You can feel your thighs shaking against his grip as he keeps them parted for him. It halts every thought in your mind, back arching off the bed as he delves deeper, his tongue parting your folds to fuck you with the wet muscle repeatedly. It feels like he's trying to discover places inside you, as deep as they may be, to make you fall apart.

The angle has your lips parted with hurried breaths, head thrown back against the bed, struggling to keep quiet with the way his nose moves side to side against your aching bundle of nerves.

"Fuck…Aemond…" 

It feels like as soon as the pressure begins to build in your belly, he comes away, his lips glistening with your slick, causing your face to heat up in embarrassment. His eyes gleam with mischief.

"What happened to that smart mouth, hm?"

Before anger even has a chance to reach you, he plunges two fingers knuckle-deep inside you, instantly curled up trying to find that sweet spot inside. Your thighs shut around his hand, effectively trapping him there, a slew of desperate moans filling the silence in the room, as well as the wet smack of his hand as he fucks you with his fingers.

" - ah, fuck, Aemond - "

He grins, "Fuck you're soaked for me…" he muses, increasing the intensity, pistoning them inside you, "...come on, baby…"

He finds that spot with infuriating accuracy, aided by the thickness and length of his fingers, stretching your pussy as he watches them disappear, covered in your arousal.

Your back arches impossibly, thighs squeezed tight. And he smirks in victory.

"There it is…"

Logic, reality, everything is just absolutely gone. Mind blank, and all you're able to think is just him. The pleasure he is giving you. His words. It's all just too much.

The coil in your belly threatens to snap at any moment, the pads of his fingers bullying your g-spot mercilessly. So much you can feel your slick soak his hand and the insides of your thighs.

And just like that.

It's gone.

Your crane your head to him, looking up as he kneels between your legs, outright moaning as he swipes his digits through his lips into his mouth. Tasting you.

Your clit throbs at the lewd action, as well as the fact he's enjoying it so much. Feeling your face flushed and heat bathing your skin.

His hands drop to his belt, "You look so fucking perfect like this" he says, the sound of the leather slipping from his dress pants sending a bolt of arousal back to the place you need him most.

"Don't look at me like that" he smirks, his fists closing around the buttons, "the first time I make you cum, it's going to be on my cock"

You would think of some kind of quip, but Aemond tugs his underwear down, his cock springing free, and his hand coming to stroke himself to full hardness. The motion has you captivated, and inadvertently makes your thighs press together.

Aemond is big. Perhaps bigger than anyone you've had before. He is slightly curved, leaning slightly to the right, and as he strokes himself, his thumb swipes whatever precum comes out his weeping pink tip all over his cockhead, sighing softly at the relief of it. Your breath is momentarily stolen once you realise how his large hand encircles it, making it clear how thick he is on top of all that.

Annoyingly, he has the prettiest cock you've ever seen.

As a last ditch attempt to keep up appearances, your eyes meet his.

"What makes you think I'd let you?" You challenge, "you've not apologised to me yet"

Quite unexpectedly, he smirks, laughing lowly.

"Oh, Princess" he whispers, one hand pulling the rucked up fabric of the dress at your waist and removing it, tearing the fabric over your head and leaving you entirely naked and exposed. The sensation of the fabric and cool air has your nipped harden to attention, and Aemond sighs appreciatively as he kneads one breast in his palm.

He leans down, his tongue darting out to tease the skin around your nipple, "I am sorry" he muses condescendingly, before closing one nipple around his lips, tongue swirling against it. You're unable to do anything but press your lips together to stifle a moan.

Aemond pays special attention, lapping at it like a man starved, humming and pleased at the reaction he gets when he grazes his teeth over it. He pulls off with a gentle pop, kissing the valley of your breasts, his cock hanging heavily against your thigh. So close, and yet still feels so far away.

He reaches away for a second to go for his wallet on the bedside table, but your hand moves quickly to capture his wrist. His piercing gaze looks down at you questioningly.

"I'm clean…" you say, face hot with embarrassment, "...and I'm on birth control"

Aemond grins wolfishly at the admission, leaning down to kiss and nip at your neck, "Someone's prepared"

You gasp when he drags the head of his cock up your folds, parting them only slightly.

"You just want it raw, don't you?"

From this action alone you can feel how wet you are, and when he taps his cockhead against your clit a few times sending sparks of pleasure up your spine, it's obvious when it smacks wetly against your skin.

"Now baby, it's just you and me. I want to hear you when I fuck you. Understood?"

You nod, dizzy from just how much he's teasing you. 

"Just fuck me" you plead, annoyance colouring your tone.

He laughs through his nose and your mouth drops open when he pushes into you, splitting you open on his thick cock, slowly working his way inside.

"I'm going to fuck that little attitude right out of you"

Fuck.

Aemond bottoms out inside you, stilling for a moment for you to adjust but also for him to catch his bearings. He breathes in shuddered bursts against your neck, his stomach flexing and fists tightened either side of your head.

"Fuck, baby, you're so tight…can feel you squeezing me…" he moans softly against your ear, pushing himself as far inside you as he can possibly go. It has your eyes fluttering shut as his length tucks against that sweet spot, filling you aggravatingly perfectly, the walls of your pussy stretching deliciously to take him.

"Shit-Aemond…" you mewl as he shallowly fucks himself into you a few times, craving friction, craving what glimpse you saw of him earlier, "...please…"

Resting on his forearms, one hand ventures to your thigh to spread you further apart as he pulls almost all the way out.

"Seeing as you asked so nicely"

All air seems to be stolen out of your lungs and replaced with warming bliss as Aemond's slams back inside, his hips immediately pressing with a loud smack against you as he thrusts ceaselessly, holding both of your thighs in his palms.

With every harsh push inside, a soft, moan-like breath slips from your lips. Gods, when was the last time someone fucked you, as in properly fucked you, like this? Probably longer than you'd like to admit. That Highgarden guy left you high and dry, and even the guys before that, they probably thought girls had one hole, so knew little about how to pleasure you.

It's clear Aemond doesn't share this trait, and your thought process is immediately zipped from your past sexual encounters to right now as Aemonds thumb begins to deftly gather your arousal on it to circle around your clit, setting every nerve alight.

"Stubborn and a brat?" He muses, applying a delicious amount of pressure to that needy bundle of nerves, "I thought I made myself very clear, Princess. I want to hear you"

He punctuates his demand with two particularly harsh thrusts, your arousal sounding almost pornographic in nature.

Whether you want to or not, your lips part more to let your sounds of pleasure fill the room, the ceaseless sounds of your fucking alongside it. Your hands fist the bedsheets and Aemond hums appreciatively watching your breasts and body move with every motion.

He rewards you by increasing the speed of his motions, practically fucking you into the mattress. It's here that is the first time you see Aemond let his face show what he's feeling. That smug, cocksure smirk he has worn since arriving back at the hotel room drops, and his jaw slackens, his eye hooded to look down at you with reverence.

"Fuck-baby, I can feel you, you're going to cum for me aren't you-" he moans, his hips never letting up their pace, "shit-feels so good. Been dreaming of this for fucking weeks"

"Aemond-" you moan softly, turning your head, closing your eyes, feeling all exposed to him when he looks at you like that. The pressure in your gut is absolutely set to explode, and you feel that coil tighten impossibly.

Your throat tightens as Aemond leans down, his hips hitting the flesh of your thighs as he continues to piston his cock inside you, the chain around his neck dangling arousingly above you. 

You feel him grab your face, turning you to face him, your eyes slightly hooded with pleasure but looking right at him. It's so intimate, it makes your skin feel like it's on fire. 

His expression is serious.

"I want you to look at me when I make you cum"

Your hand joins his wrist, guiding him to your neck, and his jaw slackens again when he realises what you want. His fingers wrap around your neck, palm against your windpipe, and he just holds you there, feeling your pulse fluttering against his touch.

All you're able to utter before falling off the edge of your pleasure is, "fuck-"

Blinding white pleasure courses through your veins, your heart hammering in your chest, feeling every single thing Aemond is doing but ten times more sensitive. Being edged twice before certainly didn't help. Every thrust inside, brushing against your sweet spot, the way his thumb continues to press circles against your bud, has your orgasm extended in a long drawn-out shattered moan.

Aemond buries his head into your neck, his arms enveloped around you, letting your bud finally have a reprieve. Your thighs begin to shake as Aemond fucks you through it, overstimulation rocking through your entire body with the incessant bullying of his length against your sweet spot.

"It's alright, baby, I've got you" he whispers, his own tone strained. You can't help but sigh fondly at his words.

"Fuck-where-"

"Inside me…please"

Aemond feels you tighten impossibly around him one last time before he stills, hot ropes of his cum painting your walls and leaving an unmistakable warmth at the deepest parts of your core. Aemond says nothing, but moans helplessly against your neck and you feel his all-body shudder through your hold on his shoulders.

He fucks you shallowly, aching for the last moments of friction just as your orgasm subsides, replaced with a manageable dull thrum, practically able to fell your own heartbeat, and his with his presence inside you. The drag of his cock through your sensitive walls has breathless pants spilling from your mouth.

The silence stretches as Aemond stills, his cock softening within you. 

You don't have time to consider what at all he's thinking, as he presses a chaste kiss to your jaw, significantly softer than anything you've both done since arriving back to the hotel room. It shocks you, the intimacy of it.

What had you expected him to do? Get up, pull on his clothes and leave?

Maybe.

You had no expectations with Aemond. So for him to do this, had your chest constrain almost painfully. 

What did this mean?

Did he just want a quick fuck?

Had he done this with Floris?

What did it mean for your partnership?

You're almost disappointed in yourself that these are the first thoughts on your mind. 

And yet despite the pleasure running hot through your veins even still, as Aemond props himself up to look down at you, his chest heaving with hurried breaths, there's something on his face, in his expression, that you just cannot read.

There's an uncertainty in not being able to read him.

And underneath that hum of pleasure, through your rapid heartbeat, there lies something that hurtles you deep away from it all.

Doubt.

Taglist 1 (Bold means I could not tag!)

General Taglist: @blairfox04 | @hb8301 | @jamespotterismydaddy | @nenelysian | @natty2017 | @randomdragonfires | @risefallrise | @theoneeyedprince | @thelittleswanao3 | @tsujifreya | @urmomsgirlfriend1 | @valeskafics 

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep ​ | @boofy1998 | @cathy1514 | @dahlias-and-marigolds | @fan-goddess | @gaeela-6

[thefallennightmare]

Faded Memories-Matt Dierkes x OFC: coming soon.

You left my life and clouded up your mind. Don't come back and act like it's fine. You've gotta let me go. Your time has passed, and there's nothing left to show.

Pairings: Matt Dierkes x Elvinia(OFC)

Summary: Past mistakes had tormented Elvinia for years, taunting her for her failings. Yet things were beginning to look up for her when she started her new job as a drum tech for the rising band, Bad Omens. As she is about to trek out on a three-month world tour with them, she is suddenly forced to come face to face with the past she tried so hard to forget. 

Matt had sworn off love ever since she broke his heart. When their eyes lock for the first time in over four years, he makes it his mission to make her time with him utter hell.

Warnings/Tropes: smut(18+ only), swearing, angst, fluff, forced proximity, enemies to lovers, second chance love. Mean Matty(we love it)

A/N: Don't ask. I saw the new picture of Matt from today and was compelled to write something about it. This will be a mini-series! Nothing too long but I'm not sure when chapters will come out. I'm thinking whenever I'm in the mood for mean Matty. The title comes from Bloodline(Matt's band) song Faded Memories. I highly recommend checking it out!

CHAPTER ONE: teaser

[souperbloom]

5sos!reader is genuinely one of my fav tropes omg?? i would love it if you could do smth along the same lines for luke <3

omg i’m so sorry this took me so long to get out. i was pondering on ways to make it perfect since this was such a general request, (i wrote 3 separate stories and hated all of them) but i hope y’all love what i came up with !!! <3

————

crowd pleaser. [l.h.]

omg i love this gif

bandmate!reader x Luke

in which the final show of tour calls for some ~celebration~

ended this one hella abruptly i’m sorry— i ran out of steam & wanted to get this out LMAO

CONTENT WARNINGS: smut!, pet names, unprotected sex, mentions of drinking, exhibitionism (kinda)

WORDCOUNT: 3.8k

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“How long until soundcheck?”

The disembodied voice gives you a fright, but when you snap around to see your boyfriend standing at the door frame of your dressing room, your startled face morphs into a smile.

“Scared the shit outta’ me,” you mumble, turning the pegs of your guitar until each string was in tune.

“I asked a question,” Luke chuckles, skipping past your chair to lean against the wall across from you.

“Dunno’. Maybe you should’ve looked at the clock before you came in here and bothered me.”

You bite back a smile, finding it hard now to concentrate on getting your guitar in tune. Luke steps behind your chair, anchoring his hands on your shoulders. He starts slowly massaging your neck, pressing his thumbs into the pesky knot that you can never seem to reach.

“Someone’s grumpy today, eh?” You could hear his pout, just by his voice alone.

“Not grumpy, no. Just— tryin’ to get shit done so I have some time to get my shit together before the show.”

Today was the final day of tour. Fifty shows, more countries and states than you could count; it felt surreal to say that you’d been traveling across the world to do what you loved most, let alone doing it beside four of your best friends.

The adrenaline level was high in everyone but yourself. You had decided that today would be the one day where you actually planned out your schedule, to allot some time for the emotions that are bound to flood when you realize that this would be your last time performing with your band for a while.

To put it simply, you wanted to lend yourself some time to cry. In a good way.

“You’re so tense baby,” Luke grumbles softly, digging his thumbs into your shoulder blades, “Want a drink or somethin’?”

“No, I’m good.” You give your guitar one final tweak before setting it down on its stand beside you.

“You sure? I’ll take a shot with you right now. C’mon. Let’s do it. One and done.”

“Luke, please,” you laugh, fully turning around in your seat to give him a good look, “It’s like, 3pm.”

“Hey, it’s five o’clock somewhere. Plus, the boys and I may have already ripped back a shot for some confidence.”

You roll your eyes, and Luke bends down to rest his elbows against the back of your chair. His lips are now level with yours and are just dying for a kiss.

“Confidence? Please. You boneheads would use anything as an excuse to get plastered. I swear, you and Cal would pregame a doctor’s appointment.”

Luke seems to read your mind, as he does quite often, and steals a quick kiss after your rambling is done with. His sandy blonde curls flop in front of his eyes, but you’re quick to tuck them behind his ear.

“Baby, come on. This is the finale. We’re supposed to be celebrating!”

“I think we both know that you and I have way different ideas of what it means to celebrate.”

You couldn’t help being so stubborn, it was instilled in you since birth. But Luke made it his mission, as your partner, to do anything in his power to get you to change your mind. And most, if not all of the time, he was quite convincing.

It takes you a few minutes to stand up, after Luke had kindly stepped in front of your dressing room door to basically block you from leaving. There was virtually no escaping his request for a pre-show shot.

But who says you can’t negotiate?

“Y’know babe,” you begin nonchalantly, twisting a lock of your hair between your fingers as you approach Luke’s large, lanky stature, “I have a proposition for you.”

His eyebrows quirk in challenge, “Alright, sure. Since you won’t do a shot with me— Let’s hear it.”

You take a moment to admire him in his silky black button down. The way his braided silver choker sat just above his collarbone and glistened beneath the overhead lamps was making you swoon. You were the one that got him into wearing jewelry, painting his nails, dousing glitter onto his cheeks and eyelids; a bit of self expression. You’d told him that it would help with his stage presence, which was some advice he definitely needed at the start of this tour.

And of course, he took a liking to it. The same way he did with you.

“What if we did something else to celebrate?”

You step closer to him and press your index finger against his chest, trailing it down and catching it onto the top button of his shirt. His eyes bounce between your wandering digit and your face, as he urges you silently to continue.

“Something else, hm? Like what?”

“We could— pass some time.”

His body tenses up the moment you make a sly effort to undo that top button. Short, staggered breaths begin to leave his throat as you continue to taunt him with your stare.

“I’ve always been intrigued by pre-show quickies.”

Luke’s eyes widened at your brutal honesty, ocean blue pricked with sparkling icy streaks that had undoubtedly shifted into something a bit darker. You bite your lip, he returns, and it takes everything inside of him not to pull you in closer.

“Really?” he stammers slightly, the back of his knuckles grazing your midriff, “Since when?”

“Since I saw how fuckin’ sexy you looked in that shirt this morning.”

Luke smacks his teeth, tilting his head to the side and reinstating that dominant air he holds over you so well, “Well, I’m not— opposed to the idea, baby…”

You hum in reply, the only thing you’re capable of thinking about is how his hands felt crawling down to your hips.

“…But just so you know, we only have about twenty minutes ‘till call time.”

“So you did know how much time we had, you fuckin’ liar.”

He chuckles quietly, before pulling you into him and pressing his body against yours, “I just wanted an excuse to come bother you. You should know me a bit better by now.”

It was getting harder to just stand there and stare at your boyfriend’s pretty face— his big cerulean eyes and deep set dimples that made you want to just grab him by his cheeks and tackle him down to the floor. But you’re stronger than that. You started this dance, so you might as well keep up.

“I think twenty minutes is plenty of time,” you try your best at sounding confident and sensual, knowing that if he were to move his hand an inch closer to your thigh, you’d fold like a wet paper towel.

“Really?” He muses, subtly stepping you back further into the room.

“Yup.”

“You’re awfully confident.”

It was now a battle of who could keep the eye contact the longest without getting distracted. Now that there was a set time constraint, the stakes had raised ten fold.

“I think we could do better than twenty minutes. How’s fifteen? Maybe even ten?”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, gorgeous…”

In a daze, Luke spins you around and suddenly has your back pressed against the wall. You could practically feel the wind being knocked out of your lungs as his hand travels up your chest and loosely grips the base of your neck.

“…You know I like to take my time.”

A quiet moan slips past your lips as Luke begins a trail of sultry kisses down your jaw, to the base of your collarbone. He kept his grasp on you firm, yet still loose enough for you to slip out if need be.

“Mmmh, baby—” you chirp, your head angling back to give him better access to the sweet spot of your neck, “the door.”

He pops his head up for a moment, only to take your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, and stare you down with those cool baby blues.

“The door? Who gives a fuck about the door? Let ‘em hear it.”

You can’t really argue with that, so you just go limp in his arms as he continues to taunt you with his lips and tongue. He takes his free hand and grabs ahold of your thigh to prop it up against his hip.

What was once a journey of hickies and love bites had now transformed into a steamy make-out session. Luke groans into your mouth each time your hips swivel forward to meet his groin— you could barely contain the sounds that were echoing past your lips and bouncing off the walls of your dressing room.

You take a moment to catch your breath as Luke tugs at the hemline of your top.

“This. Off. Now.”

��Mmkay,” you sigh dreamily, following orders as it was now clear that Luke had taken the reins.

You manage to wrangle his lips off of your neck for a moment to allow you to peel your shirt over your head. But that split second felt like an eternity for Luke; for he had been dying to get his hands on you all morning and the last thing he wanted was to bother you.

But once you’d given him the signs that ‘bothered’ is the only thing you wanted to be, he didn’t think twice.

“Fuck, baby— been thinkin’ about you all morning,” Luke mumbles through his teeth, taking in the sight of your bare chest and simple black bra.

“Have you?”

“Mhmm. ‘Been thinkin’ about why my girl’s been so grumpy today. Guess she just needed a bit of attention, hm?”

Luke’s condescending words send a chill down your spine, along with that wandering hand of his. It had traveled towards your navel and hooked to the waistband of your skirt to pull you in even closer.

The only word you could muster was a simple curse word, a ‘fuck’, for good measure. But Luke didn’t seem satisfied with that reply.

“Is my girl gonna talk to me? Or am I just gonna stand here n’ talk to myself until she finds it in her to answer me?”

“Luke,” you whine his name yet still, his thirst isn’t quenched.

“C’mon baby— I know you can do it. You gonna’ beg for me? Like you always do?”

Your eyelids flutter closed in bliss, your hands on their own beating path towards the waistband of his skinny jeans. You could hear him tsk in disapproval before his hand is softly tapping against your cheek.

“Keep those eyes on me, pretty girl. Don’t think you can finish what you started?”

The moment you open your mouth to reply, you’re whipped out of this dreamlike state by a knock at your door frame.

“Ten minutes ‘till stage. We need everyone in the wings for a company meeting.”

The panic in your eyes immediately transfers over to Luke, who had flinched only slightly upon hearing your manager’s voice. You roll your lips inward, fighting a giggle yet still feeling vulnerable from the position Luke was holding you in.

“You got lucky, baby,” Luke leans down to whisper into your ear, “Saved by the bell.”

You eventually find enough confidence to tease, “Who says we can’t finish this later?”

“Uuuughhhhhh.”

He whines into your neck, his head hanging low and knocking against the wall with a disgruntled huff. You could tell by the way his body language changed that he was rather disappointed.

“Don’t whine, you sound like a child,” you giggle, playfully shoving his slouched body and sending him stumbling backwards.

With a bit of a fight, Luke groans, before picking up your shirt and handing it to you like it was the last thing he ever wanted to do. “Promise we’ll pick this back up later?”

You bite back a smile, and pull your shirt over your head. He physically winces once you fully put it back on.

“I promise. It’ll be like we never even left.”

After a moment of pouting and rolling his eyes, Luke fixes himself in your mirror beside you, gathering his thoughts and shaking his head clear as the two of you bicker about the impending final show.

“Maybe I’ll give you a little special something after the show tonight. My treat,” Luke announces proudly, fixing the collar of his shirt.

“Your treat? I’m intrigued.”

You let your mind run rampant as you sling your guitar over your shoulder, admiring your pretty boyfriend through the mirror as he fluffs his hair and double checks his eyeshadow.

“Mhm. But— only if you’re good. Gotta’ see you giving it your all out there.” Luke takes a wide step to tower over you, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Oh please Luke, I’m always good. Good to you, good to the band— I basically have sex with the crowd every night.”

“Don’t go making me jealous now, baby,” he muses, “I’ll see you out there.”

Luke’s flirty goodbye is topped off with a kiss to your cheek, before he’s saluting you and waltzing out of the door like nothing even happened. You can’t help but stand in his place in awe, fiddling with the neck of your guitar impetuously as the thought of him floods your mind even more so than before.

This was about to be the longest fucking show of your life.

~

It was just about eleven and the show finally had come to a close with an encore.

To say that the energy was through the roof was an understatement; the crowd was consistently feeding off of the band and the last thing you wanted to do was to leave it behind. But, of course, you were dragged away by the fall of the curtains and the eruption of colorful confetti.

You blew kisses, gave hugs, and even managed to find some time to toss a few guitar picks down by the barricade. But what you weren’t expecting was followed after curtain fall, when your boyfriend had decided to scoop you and your handful of picks up bridal style, and run you offstage like a bullet.

“Baby, you were amazing out there,” Luke whispers hurriedly into your ear, still holding you tightly in his arms as he barreled down the hall away from the wings.

“Luke, where are we—?”

Your question is cut off abruptly by him tipping you over and planting you back onto your feet. It took you a second to regain your balance but in the moment that you did, Luke had you pinned against the cinder block wall of the backstage area.

The gaze in his eyes was ravening, restless— his pupils were shaking and his once crystal irises had flitted to a deep indigo hue. Your breath catches in your throat as he tries to collect his own, still carrying the fatigue of running with you in his arms.

“I owe you— something special,” his words are chopped up by staggered breathing, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. You reach up between your temperate bodies to wipe it away.

“You could’ve at least given yourself a minute to relax after the show, Lu,” you console softly, but Luke shakes his head frantically.

“No, no— no. Had— had to get you here. Now. Want you— right here.”

“Right here?” You whisper back, glancing over his shoulder at the empty hallway.

“Yes. Right here. Please, baby. Been dying’ to get my hands on you. Got me so fuckin’ worked up out there… Felt like I was suffocating.”

You watch your boyfriend's face flash a plethora of different emotions; tired, hungry, desperate, lovesick. All of the things you were feeling throughout your little pre-show rendezvous.

“O-okay… If that’s what you wa—”

“Do you want to? We don’t have to, I’m just— I couldn’t wait to touch you, baby.”

His voice trembles as he whines desperately, leaning closer into your ear with each syllable. It’s hard to ignore his vehement pleading, especially since you’d promised to pick up right where you had left off.

As you’re about to give him the okay to proceed, he flushes his body against yours. You could feel the rock solid erection that was held captive by his restricting uniform skinny jeans, and the feeling of it almost brought you to moan.

“Feel what you do to me, gorgeous? Can you feel how fuckin’ hard I am for you? Want you— want you everywhere, baby.”

In a daze you’re nodding and in no time, his lips are on yours like a magnet. It had become a frenzied jumble of clumsy touching and groping in a matter of moments, a few excited giggles slipping past your lips and knocking into his.

“Fuck, baby— So good to me, y’ always are.”

“Luke, please—”

You give him the signal and soon enough, you’re being shimmied out of your panties beneath your skirt.

Luke makes a sly face, taking your lacy intimates and shoving them in his back pocket. “For safekeeping,” he whispers playfully, before pulling you back into that hungry kiss.

His weathered palms traversed beneath your shirt and slid up and down your sides; poor Luke couldn’t decide where to place his hands. But regardless of his indecision, his touch felt transcendent.

“Gonna fuck you so good, pretty girl,” Luke mumbles into your ear, making sure to nip at the nape of your neck and a bit of your earlobe to get your blood pumping.

You could already tell that you were wet. Soaked, even, just by the hurriedness of this all. The rush you were experiencing was feeding into that leftover adrenaline from the show. You truly had zero complaints.

“Oh my God,” you whine, as Luke takes his time to mark up your neck, “Please, baby? C-can’t wait much longer.”

“That’s my girl,” he retorts, taking his hands and cupping your cheeks delicately as your body language begged for the feeling of him, “So polite, like always.”

Your hands had made their way to unzip his jeans and caress his bulge above the briefs that held it, whining softly as your fingertips graze a wet mark left on the fabric.

“Mhhh, messy,” you bumble, slowly tracing your thumb across the spot of precum.

Luke hisses in pleasure, a smile forming at the end of his cry, “See what you do to me? I’m a fuckin’ mess for you, pretty.”

You couldn’t find it in you to respond coherently as he guided your hand to slip his cock from out of his underwear. On instinct, you wrap your fingers around his length and slowly begin to pump him between your bodies.

A moan rumbled through Luke’s chest and suddenly the wetness pooling between your legs was becoming an issue. Each touch of his dick and caress of his hipbone was becoming more and more despairing. Like your essence was simply falling apart beneath his fingertips.

“Gotta get my girl up here,” Luke grunts, moving his hands towards the backs of your thighs and gripping them tightly, “Jump.”

You do as you’re told, jumping up and locking your ankles around Luke’s back as he feeds into your desires with more love bites and bruises. Your back was flush against the wall, with just the right amount of space for Luke to line his cock up with your entrance.

“Look at you. My little rockstar. Put on one show and now you’re lookin’ for an encore?” He jokes with you tenderly, yet the bigger half of you was more desperate for him than anything else.

“What can I say, baby? I’m a crowd-pleaser.”

You steal his reply with a rough kiss, hoping to distract him enough not to let him notice the rips and tears that your nails were dragging along his silk shirt.

He pulls away from you, staring deeply into your eyes like the two of you were the last two living humans on Earth. Your boyfriend definitely had an affinity for eye contact, no matter the scenario.

The notch in his brow deepens as he adjusts your body, prodding your entrance with his tip and drawing a soft whine from your throat.

“So wet for me baby— just couldn’t wait to soak my cock, hm?”

Luke also had a thing for asking you questions, the call and response deeply feeding into his bedroom-dominant persona.

“Yes, Lu— fuckin’ soaked for you. Played the whole show thinking about you fucking me...”

“Is that right?” he quizzes, leaning in quickly to nip at your bottom lip and pull it away from your teeth.

You hiss at the sharp pain, tasting a bit of metallic on your tongue, “Mhm. Honest. Had to give you my all out there. Just like I promised I would.”

“God, you are too good to me, gorgeous,” he tosses his head back in bliss, still blindly teasing your slit, “Bet my girl’s looking for a reward for all this good behavior…”

Right as your lips part to reply, Luke is ramming his cock up into you. You gasp in shock, yet slowly mold around the feeling of him as he roughly bucks his hips against you.

“Holy fuck, Lu— oh my God!”

His teeth sink down into his bottom lip as he begins his jagged rhythm of snapping his hips, his eyes staying planted firmly into yours. It takes everything inside of you to keep your eyes on him; for you know that the last thing he wanted was for you to look away.

“Feels s’fuckin’ good, baby,” Luke groans, holding your hips tight enough to leave bruises in place of his fingertips.

The feeling of his cock pushing in deeper with each stroke had your body doubling over, the air in your lungs being knocked out in time with the tempo that he claimed.

Your body was pushing it’s limits, each direct hit to your g-spot forced low mewls from your chest and serenaded Luke’s desires. He was loving the adrenaline mixed with the overwhelming craving that he had been fighting all night long.

Your breathing in sync was like a symphony, music to Luke’s ears— he couldn’t fathom the thought of saving you for later until he was quite literally forced to. But with each buck of his hips and every single moan spilling from your lips, he soon realized that maybe the wait was worth it.

“Gonna’ cum soon, baby— keep those eyes on me, okay?”

You bite back frantic tears that pricked your eyes, nodding sheepishly as you let him fuck up into you. The only sound you were capable of making was a weak whimper, but Luke didn’t mind.

“Cum on my cock, baby… Fuckin’ soak me—”

“You look so beautiful. My fuckin’ girl.”

All of these silky-sweet nothings were hitting you like a freight train. You were nodding in time with the movement of his hips, your tits bouncing between your bodies and your eyes threatening to flutter closed at just how good he felt filling you up.

You moan again, as does he, and you’re able to read his expression before he’s even uttering the words:

“Gonna’ fill you up, gorgeous. Cum for me, baby?”

[cookiesupplier]

Every Rose Has Its Thorns - Part Fifty-Six

pairing: Ricky Olson x ofc x Chris 'Motionless' Cerulli

warnings/tropes: slow burn, soulmates, strangers to enemies to lovers, betrayal, angst, fluff, smut, language, online bullying, panic attacks, stalking, mental health issues, conspiracy theories.

summary: In a world where soulmates inexplicably receive a tattoo that will match that of their soulmate the moment they turn eighteen years old, being famous and covered in very visible tattoos can make finding your true soulmate a questionable fate. For everyone involved.

author’s note: Unbeta'd. I know nothing about real police procedure, don't look at me, I've made it up. Just the Epilogue to go!

To read from the beginning, check out the Masterlist Here!

If you would like to be added to this tag list please see THIS FORM

tags: @faceless-mirror @missduffsblog @tamtam-elizabeth @witchyweeb34 @tearfallpixie

@wild-child-7747 @shilohrosechicken @lacktoesandtoddlerants @blackveilomens @valiantroeagleangel

@bngurngheart @dominuslunae @collapsedglasshouses @miamore0570 @emmmm127

@sunsshinesunny @spicywhenspeaking @dontdiganothergravetoday @chick-from-nz @latenightmusiclover

@anameunmusical

After all of that, the detectives left him in the interrogation room for hours. Room? Box. It wasn’t a room, there was no way that it could be called an interrogation room, it was nothing but a sweat box. He should know too, considering how long he’d spent days on end living inside a tour bus, a tour bus that could also easily be turned into a sweat box in during the long summer days of the tour days. Especially back when the buses were barely more than that, nothing more than that, a sweat box. 

Ricky was left sitting, no, sweating it out in that interrogation room, coming up to three hours when one of the detectives finally came back in to let him know he was free to go, for now at least. He had a feeling that this wasn’t something they were happy about doing, which was ridiculous, it wasn’t as if they could have any kind of proof he was involved in this, he wasn’t! Yes, he knew his claim about the trauma soul bond would probably seem ridiculous to many, but that didn’t mean he was trying to kill Talia, and assuming that was just offensive to him.

He should have called them on their bullshit, he knew he should have, as he looked at the detectives, why did he realise that now?! Fuck, his brain was just done from the hospital, and all he could think about was getting back to his soulmates. 

As he was walking down the hall from the offices that the interrogation had been in, Ricky’s eyes widened when he saw her being led down the hall towards him by another officer. Grace. Shit. She was the last person he wanted to see right now, of all people in the world he could run into, all he wanted was to be back at the hospital. To see if Talia was doing any better, to see if Chris was okay. They’d have called if anything had changed while he was gone, right?

Either way, Grace just wasn’t worth the aggravation. She wasn’t worth the stress or the brain power. Keep walking and ignore her. 

As he kept going, it was then, as he pushed the mental fortitude to just keep going, push past as he walked and ignore her, that was when she noticed him. Ricky assumed until that point she possibly had been too frustrated by the fact she was here at all, being escorted by the police officer behind her, or so he assumed, but then, oh then it went out the window. She saw him, and just like that, chaos. It was always chaos with her now, but he’d have loved to avoid it, not that he could block her like with the death threats online last time. This time… it was the screech that came right for him.

“You! Richard Olson! I can’t believe it, why was she driving your car?! You never let me drive your car! You were the one supposed to be driving your car! How dare you, how dare you, how dare-”

Even as Grace was practically being dragged away, she was still screaming at the top of her lungs. The beat cop that had brought her in was attempting to lead her away forcefully, while the detectives who had brought him in had come out to investigate the source of the commotion. No doubt Grace had been brought in for questioning on their case, so it was something to note, made him wonder if they had not waited until the very moment she was being escorted in to let him go. What were they going to do if she’d attacked him, what were they going to do if she’d tried to kill him, right there in the middle of the station? She had just admitted to attempting to kill Talia thinking it was him, who knows what could have happened, and they weren’t even out here when it happened. 

“Are you kidding me?!”

Ricky looked at the detectives when they said that obviously she was going to be charged with Talia’s attempted murder, as if it was so simple. Not even an apology for suspecting and accusing him as they had.

“If you could come back with us to give a statement-”

“Not today.”

He was putting his foot down. After three hours of being shirked around, he’d had enough.

“You just had me sitting in that room for three hours straight, I am, frankly, tired, sweltering hot, starving, and all I want to do is get back to the hospital… where I would have liked to have been this entire time.”

Glaring at them. Instead, they’d kept him here, looking back, he felt like an idiot because he should have demanded they charged him or let him go, but he hadn’t, he’d been so worried about the Grace issue, he let it go. There was also the other problem, he didn’t want anyone to dig into Chris, find out about his other soulmate, it could be a disaster, so he let them walk all over him, and he shouldn’t have, idiot.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give a statement.”

Pulling out his wallet, he flipped it open and pulled out one of his person business cards and handed it over. 

“You can contact me at a later date, and we can arrange it through official channels, no just showing up at the hospital this time. My family is going through a very stressful time, as you can imagine.”

Ignoring anything else they might have had to say to him, he just left, he was done with them. Assholes.

Ricky was worn out, he was so worn thin by the time he had driven himself back to the hospital. As it was, he was practically half on autopilot all the way back during the drive. Yes, he knew how dangerous that was, especially considering the cause of what had Talia laying in that bed right now, but his head was back in that police station. Grace had been trying to kill him, and instead Talia was fighting for her life. If she died, if, if Chris lost another soulmate… Grace she… Continuing, before he knew it, he was on his way into the hospital, riding the elevator, up to the floor where he knew Chris, Vinny, and Ava were waiting for him. 

When he did get to Talia’s hospital room though she had her own private room, they had made sure of that, especially when they realised Grace was involved, Vinny and Ava were nowhere to be found. It was Chris, just Chris, sitting there by Talia’s bed, holding her hand, a book open in the other, the sound of his voice pausing softly as Ricky approached the doorway. He’d been reading to her. Ricky smiled a little, only for the expression to fade after a moment when he looked at Chris, thinking about everything that had happened, seeing the instant smile on his face when he saw him. Of course, Chris seeing the way Ricky’s face fell, just caused the singer’s expression to just drop, instantly.

“What, what happened?”

Chris had enough of Ava and Vinny after a while, he knew that they were just trying to be supportive and positive. It got to be a bit much when he was worried about not only Talia in a coma and Ricky at the police station. Grace was trying to destroy his soulmate bonds from both sides. They should have done something before now, they should have, but she’d disappeared into thin air. He should have hired an investigator to find her, to figure out what she was up to after that live when she disappeared. After everything that happened with his stalker, he knew better than to assume she would leave Ricky alone, he knew. Five years, five years she’d stuck to him like glue, why would she let go now?. Now, now Talia was barely holding on, and Ricky, looking down at his phone, why hadn’t he called, it had been hours.

Sighing, he had sent Vinny and Ava home almost an hour ago, told them he was just going to nap, and he had, for about half an hour. However, for the last twenty minutes or so since he’d woken up, he had been reading Alice in Wonderland to Talia. It had been something he’d had Ava bring up a few days ago. He remembered Talia telling him how much she loved it during one of their coffee sessions, only for now Ricky to finally return. Smiling at the sight of him, so happy to see him, feeling an instant warmth that they had at long last let him go. The problem was, the moment Chris saw Ricky in the doorway, he knew something wasn’t right with him.

“What, what happened?”

Closing the book, he immediately set it aside on the bedside table, he knew something had to have happened. It wasn’t if something had, it was had. Hours, they had kept him for hours, and that despondent look on his face, he knew it was something. Chris’ arms opened to him as Ricky half stumbled into them, sitting in the chair beside him, almost falling against his side, his face pressing against his shoulder, muffled words against his shirt.

“I don’t want to talk about it.

“Rick-”

He knew, it wouldn’t be good not to talk about it, no matter how badly it went, and it might be raw now, but this was the police. Chris was terrified what might come of this. He remembered how it had been when he’d gone through it all, and he’d admit, when he’d been in the same place Ricky was now, he’d had the same reaction, never wanting to talk… It had not taken him down a good path. Sighing, he didn’t know if he should push, or just wait, his arms squeezing around him.

“Chris, I, I know, but it’s my fault, and I can’t, okay, I know you think I should talk about it, but it’s my fault. All of this is my fault, and nothing that I’m going to do or say is going to make this all right.”

Oh, wow, wait one second there, Chris brain came to a screeching halt when it came to thinking about how to deal with helping Ricky deal with his stalker issue… He tried to pull back to get a look at him some, only for Ricky’s arms to tighten his grip around him with a sob.

“Rick, Ricky, Cupcake, fuck, this is not your fault. Grace is absolutely psycho. What did they say to you? I told you not to let them make you feel crazy, that includes letting them make you believe that the blame was on you babe, dammit, this was not your fault-”

That was when Ricky pulled back, Chris saw the tears in his eyes now, not just hearing them in his words.

“She thought it was me in the car, Chris. She was trying to kill me, not Talia. She wouldn’t be in that bed fighting for her life if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be worried about losing a second soulmate if it weren’t for me. Dammit Chris. This is on me. You're right, she is psycho, she stalked me, she manipulated me, she- she-”

Ricky choked before he could finish… and found himself sobbing into Chris' shoulder again. He was no better when it came to the last part, knowing what he had done to Talia, between their tattoos, and coercion. It was all so grey, but he felt like a monster some days. He was trying so hard to be better, and she said she forgave him, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive himself… but Grace… the law was so muddled about sexual predators and faux soulmate crimes. Many wanted them to be labelled as rapists, whether it was consensual or not because one party had had no clue of the truth. Others, however, said it was no different from a normal relationship and a person lying to their partner, Ricky did not agree. Considering the bond that had formed from his trauma, how Chris’ tattoo had literally changed, Ricky far from agreed, what Grace had done to him, it went far beyond just lying to your partner. She ripped at his very soul.

Some states called it rape, some assault, some called it nothing at all. Theirs, however, had a statute of limitations on faux soulmate related sexual assault and Ricky hadn’t figured Grace out in time. In turn, it had left him feeling like the disaster he was now. 

Chris just held Ricky like that, in his arms, resolved to comfort him as best he could, refusing to let him give in. He would be there for him as long as he needed him to be. No matter what happened to Talia. This was not his fault, no matter what he though, no matter what anyone might have said to him, Chris refused to let him believe it. 

It was when he heard a groan from the hospital bed that he was looking over to the hospital bed,

“Talia?”

The next thing he knew, a soft, groggy murmur came from the small woman in the bed.

“Put the bunny back in the top hat, get back in the top hat, Mister Bunny, come back!”

Even Rick, who had been sobbing a moment before, couldn’t help but chuckling at her babbling as she started to slowly regain consciousness.

“I told you that magic white rabbit tattoo on her hip had to have more of a story behind it than Alice in Wonderland.”

Chris didn’t care, he was laughing with Ricky, watching him wipe the tears from his eyes as he had said it, looking between his two soulmates, he was just overjoyed that Talia was waking up, 

“Welcome back, JellyBean.”

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[hlficlibrary]

hi! do u happen to know if there are any fics inspired/similar to the seven husbands of evelyn hugo or like evelyn hugo and celia st james?

Hi, anon! So there is one fic out there that takes some inspiration from The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, but in the author's note it says it's really more like inspiration from the structure of that novel. If you'd like a rec of fics with similar tropes, just let me know! But here is the fic...

Remember Me Fondly by kiddle

“You’ve told the beginning of the story so many times. I want to hear the end.” Louis laughed, scratching at his chin. “I can’t say I really know when the end happened.” “How about the tour of ninety-five?” “Alright.” Louis took a deep breath. “But it took a few steps to get there. What would you like to know?” Penny cleared her throat. “How did you first meet Harry Styles?” Grunge legends Fearless Doe topped the rock charts in the ‘90s, but they spent the decade kicking Smudge off their heels. From lawsuits to jaw-dropping scandals and a surprising joint world tour, the two bands share a complicated history.

Twenty-five years later, frontmen Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles are finally ready to sit down and tell the world their two sides of the same story.

Truth may vary.

[waveridden]

fic writers self rec

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love 💞

@cedardivine tagged me in this a couple days ago and i have been sitting here stewing over what constitutes my favorite things that i've written, and whether i wanted to go single-fandom or recent or deep cut or what. in the end i went through basically everything on my ao3 and pulled the stuff that felt right today. ask again tomorrow and you'll probably get a different top five.

in no particular order:

where the light won't find you (blaseball) took over six months to write, most of which was stewing in the back of my brain instead of actual writing. it's a story about hell, and loneliness, and body horror, and i think it's going to be one of my favorite things for a very very long time.

nurture and the fear of nature (succession) was written for a gift exchange and i love it because it is a prompt i never would've thought of. it's a sophie roy character study and it's rough around the edges and includes a couple insights that i am really proud of. i never imagined myself being a succession fic girlie but if i'm gonna be one, i'm glad that this is the thing i landed on.

what's left of the world (blaseball) was written in a fit of passion. imo it's one of my least lore-y blaseball fics, all you need to know is that blaseball is baseball that kills you, and that this fic is a tour of an art gallery after the artist's death. in a lot of ways it's my tribute to within the wires, a very formative piece of media for me.

dynamite in progress (original fic) is also a gift exchange piece. i am on the record as a superhero enjoyer and i ended up doing this prompt because it pushed me outside of a lot of the tropes that i tend to fall back on; it made me think about superheroes (and supervillains!) differently, and i also really dearly love the characters i came up with.

where the world begins (life series) is my most recent pride and joy. it's a ghost au and a love story and about 90% of the way through it i messaged my partner/beta and was like "is this... about long distance relationships" and they laughed at me. it was a lot of fun, it's my first big project after a lot of small ones, and i'm so happy with it.

if you see this and you want to, please do a self-rec and please tag me in it! it's fun

[mickeyheartian]

Randomized Fig Tag Game!

I’ve been wanting to do this since I first saw it - thanks @mickeysgaymom and @lupeloto for the tags 🩵

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

rules (more or less): use this au generator to assign you an au, this fanfiction trope generator to give you a trope/situation/sometimes another au, feel free to keep clicking until you get something that inspires you.

then try to come up with the title, plot, vibe, and details of a fic including whatever the generators gave you. you don’t actually have to write it, just put the concept into the world! this is basically just a thought experiment.

AU generator gave me: online dating AU

Fic trope generator gave me: write a modern royalty AU + Torture us with an almost kiss

So I got two good ones with the second generator… let’s see where this goes!

Title: Resolution of Royalty and Aminosity (? I suck at titles)

Plot:

* Mickey is the Prince of Wales, but that isn’t how he grew up. He had his usual south side upbringing, and at 18 was informed he was next in line for the throne. The current king and his queen escort never had kids of their own, but it was later found Mickey was the illigitamate son of the king when he was on tour in the army in his youth.

* He is immediately sent to England to learn his royal duties so he is ready when the current king passes. He’s been living in London for 4 years at this point.

* Ian is in the army, stationed in London. He’s active on the newest dating app (which I can’t think of a name for) and comes across a dark haired boy with piercing blue eyes.

* They begin to message daily, but Mickey doesn’t reveal who he is and his links to the throne, as he knows he isn’t allowed to date outside of his social class.

* Ian doesn’t make the connection himself, but one of his troop mates does as they’re face timing one night - the first time they ever face time. And after Ian hangs up asks him how he knows the prince of Wales.

* Ian keeps his knowledge a secret, not wanting to scare Mickey off.

* After a few months of talking, Mickey agrees to meet Ian. He sneaks off from his security and they meet in a coffee shop.

* They have a cute first date, but when Mickey leans in to kiss Ian, his security have found him, and grab him by the collar dragging him away from the cute redhead he met online

* Ian messages Mickey that evening and Mickey tells him this can’t work, they’re from different worlds. He’s expected to marry a woman of his social class

* Ian keeps trying to message Mickey over the next month. Never getting a reply

* After many messages from Ian, and a talking to from Mandy Mickey messages Ian back. Fuckers can go fuck themselves he didn’t ask to be fucking king anyway

* Mickey keeps sneaking away from his security to meet Ian, but gets caught every time and never gets to actually have that kiss

* Mickey gets called into a royal meeting with the current king and asked what the fuck he’s playing at and does he want to get killed. The importance of being around his security is emphasised. They already don’t like Mickeys upbringing, he never feels like they wanted him there to begin with, only needing an heir to the throne.

* Mickey tells them to go fuck themselves and he can date who he wants

* He’s told the public can never know he’s gay. It would be bad for the crown.

* Mickey storms out of the room and out of the palace, his security following him. Fuck this. He’s sick of being told for his whole life who he’s allowed to like. He meets with Ian in a very public place and kisses him in broad daylight. Can’t keep that a secret

* The king is furious but the public love Mickey

* The palace further try to stop their relationship, but there is public outcry. Why can’t the future king have a boyfriend!!!

* The palace gives in and allows Mickey and Ian to be together

* Final scene: Mickey and Ian several years later at Mickeys coronation. Mickey the king and Ian the king escort

Ahh I had so much fun doing this!!!

Not sure who to tag, if you wanna do this and haven’t been tagged then I’m tagging you!

[queenharumiura]

100 indulgent tropes - 41. our muses must share a bed

[ some options if you need ideas: his nightmares, falling asleep right away, or him being clingy in his sleep. ]

Taken from meme: [x] ||Accepting|| @parallelroutes So, this one is pure creative fun time, took random inspiration from random conversations here and there.

Haru was a young lady who was always so full of exuberant energy, and yet- there were times where even she wanted nothing else than to lay down and sleep the rest of the day away. She’s gone on school trips before with little to no issue, but she’s realizing firsthand how tiresome it can be when you are traveling and time zones change, and you must use more brain power to understand an iota of the conversations around you.

She’d been invited onto a trip with Byakuran since he’d won a ticket or something and he didn’t have anyone else who agreed to go with him—or something along those lines.

Maybe it was the sense of adventure that called to her. Perhaps it was the fact that there would be a lot to see an expanding your world view was important to cultivating a well-rounded mind. It could the be fact that she could’ve swore she saw a bit of loneliness at the admission that no one else had wanted to go with him—

No, it was the reel of desserts on the phone that really had her hook line and sinker (and the last thing). It wasn’t just because she was a woman that she didn’t enjoy the idea of travelling alone, but things were more fun with the company of others. Haru didn’t think being a tourist on your own sounded very fun.

So, like a good friend should, she agreed to go on the trip with him, since it would be a waste of free tickets otherwise. (Wasting money is frowned upon, after all!)

Initially, she held some reservations since she didn’t speak the local language (nor understand a bit of it), but he assured her that it would be fine. Did she doubt him? No, but she was still surprised to see him speaking with the locals just fine. She’d assumed that maybe a translator would be hired to help them navigate around, but Byakuran was doing fine by speaking to the locals himself.

It was impressive, really. Though, maybe it was because of his past abilities to access knowledge from other universes that he could master different languages? That was her theory anyways, or maybe he’d simply learned languages for fun.

Thinking about it now, she knew of a lot of people who spoke more than 3 languages, and the Varia could be considered a major shareholder of the slots- given that knowing multiple languages was a requirement for joining. Varia-quality, indeed.

ANYWAYS, back to the monologuing. The trip was supposed to go for a week (guess he won the grand prize of some raffle? He was pretty vague about the details, and she simply let it go) and a few days into the trip, they’d already gone and done so much.

Touring around and checking out all the hole in the wall restaurants, trying the local delicacies, checking touristy spots, and generally walking around to look at how different everything was from Japan. The biggest thing was the average height was much taller here than back in Japan, so Haru truly felt small (not to say she isn’t already short to begin with).

All her bleary mind can remember was something had happened and after a long day, Haru had looked forward to sleeping, but the lady at the front desk stopped them. She and Byakuran were talking for a while about—something. Haru couldn’t understand a thing, so she simply stood off to the side, trying to keep awake by swaying from side to side. There was a point where she gave up, held onto his arm and said whatever it was, they could deal with it later- she was on the verge of passing out.

Seeing an exchange of cardkeys was enough for her to understand that whatever happened, they were being moved to another room. She can ask for details on why later. She could only assume their things were already moved if they exchanged keycards on the spot. Whatever. The fact that there was just one card though… well if there were separate beds, it didn’t matter to her.

When the door opened, Haru could see why the two had been talking for some time. Ahh—just one bed. Hm. It is a master bed, at least? She sighs.

“Okay—” She rubs the temples of her forehead, another deep sigh. “This is where friendships get tested.” She says as she steps ceremoniously into the room and rummages through her luggage for a bag and a pouch. She heads for the bathroom, “Word of advice, telling any girl she looks very different without her make up on is grounds for you getting blasted by her friends in secret in a group chat later.” She gives him that piece of advice before closing the door.

She comes out later feeling refreshed and slightly more awake. If nothing else, she was grateful that she liked picking comfortable clothes for her sleepwear, or this would’ve been even more awkward for her than it had to be. It looked like he was tired too with the way he’d already fallen asleep, (or maybe she took too long—whoops!) and it would be polite to let him be but—she nudges him.

“You should at least brush your teeth before sleeping.” With the amount of sugar they had today? He’d better get to brushing. Hm. He’s not waking. She nudges him again, a bit harder this time. “Ne ne, wake up. You’re going to get cavities. You have to care for your teeth. We’re not like sharks.” Humans don’t grow a new pair when losing their teeth. Really? She prods his stomach thinking that’d work (she’s ticklish so surely--). Nope. Nada.

“Weird… that would’ve gotten me.” She could never really fathom the way some people just… weird… ticklish? She was so ticklish and yet? Isn’t that so unfair? Well. She tried. He could be in REM right now, so maybe if she catches him just at the right time at the end of a REM cycle, he’ll wake up. Maybe! She walks back to her luggage and arranges things, and pulls out a small journal before she climbs onto the opposite side of the bed, leaving plenty of space between them.

She was jotting the days events in her journal, while also paying attention to the sleeping person beside her. If he made any movements, maybe that was a sign to try waking him again.

When she did sense some movement, she glances over to see his shoulder trembling. Maybe he was cold. Well, he’d slept atop the bed without climbing underneath the covers. She could only untuck the blanket on her side of the bed to fold over to cover him with it.

That was the plan anyways. Maybe sensing all the movement from her trying to untuck the blankets from the between the bed and the frame (she understood the need for consistency, but she didn’t like the way hotels tucked blankets like this) he’d somehow become unconsciously aware of her presence. She’d finally unlodged the blanket, and was in the process of trying to cover him, but instead she got grabbed. She was pulled in close and was held tightly, so she couldn’t escape.

!!!

She couldn’t say that being clung onto like this was something she had thought possible for the day. Stunlocked, she lay there frozen for a moment before noticing that he was still trembling. There was cold sweat on his forehead. He’s having a nightmare, she concludes. “Hey, wake up.” She speaks to him gently. “I don’t know what you’re dreaming about, but hanging out with me is way more fun than that.” Can he hear her voice? No idea. Will her words be of any help? No clue!

With the way she was grabbed, she couldn’t use her hands, but she has a head, doesn’t she? Haru knocks into his chest with her forehead and oh-! That seems to have done it. “First, let me go. Second, get up and wash up. Third, we can talk if you’re still uneasy.” She may be tired, but she can sacrifice some sleep if he needed someone to talk to.  

[ravencromwell]

Fannish Fifty #1: “The Ministry’s Man by Musamihi

Tomorrow marks the start of the new semester. Tonight, I'm treating myself to the beginning of my shamelessly self-indulgent fannish fifty

first brought to my attentionbby the incomparable delphi

I've decided to do fifty recs, with the proviso that if I'm short by a lot in November or so, I'll intersperse professional work I think deals especially adeptly with fannish tropes--Naomi Noviks deconstruction of chosen one narratives etc. I'm beginning the festivities with the piece I most dearly wish I'd written; December will be for friends' works, because I want so many of you whose work is as dear to me for instigating our friendship as its theme and content to have the gift of having your art seen and praised throughout an oft-fraught holiday season.

Title: The Ministry’s Man

Author: @musamihi-blog

pairings: John Dawlish/Bartemius Crouch Senior (unrequited), John Dawlish/Rufus Scrimgeour

Summary: John Dawlish has spent his career in the shadows of the Ministry's great men. One of the things they have in common is they never stay for long.

Rufus Scrimgeour is the character I will come back to at ninety, rocking on a porch and ruminating about decency warring with pragmatism in a world where the chickens wrought from generation upon generation of prejudice are coming home to roost. He's Churchill--riddled with trauma from the last great war, certain of his moral rectitude, but also bullish to a fault and embodying so many of the prejudices destroying the world around him--and! disabled, which makes the entire character arc a thousand fucking times better.

I'm not ashamed to admit, here in a circle of mostly mutuals, that at the darkest lows of suicidal ideation after Mom's death, I lived to read and write more fic about the flawed wartime Minister and Thorin Oakenshield--also a deeply flawed king trying to reclaim a homeland and let his better angels triumph (I have a type, y'all)

I can't now recall which HP BeholderMMinistry's Man sprang from (GOD, I miss that fest and at least half the HP fics to be recced by me come from its brilliance) It feels like one of those pieces that is simultaneously a reflection on and deconstruction of canon so perfectly precise it must've always existed.

Of course, I first read it for the Scrimgeour. His portrayal is a masterclass: proud and prickly but also clever and discerning, ruthlessly exacting while being deeply compelling and empathetic in his desire to keep the state afloat. Ironically, though, it's the fic's use of Dawlish to elucidate moral concerns that leave me in awe and writerly envy.

For John Dawlish is a mirror, bland and blank and utterly loyal to the state, even when the state comes to be embodied by Voldemort. He's almost Harry's exact foil, unthinkingly obedient, merely present to be manipulated as greater forces of personality desire. But like any mirror, he's deeply observant, reflecting the question: how do you proceed in a world fundamentally premised on moral decay and prejudice? When the other side is worse, what means are acceptable?

The fic is a philosophical tour de force, with no easy answers, casting as unsparing an eye on Dumbledore's refusal to engage as it does on the excesses of Crouch and Scrimgeour.

Early in the fic, we're treated this haunting dialogue: "It's going to get away from you, Barty," she says, stopping not five paces from me...."Extraordinary circumstances call for extraordinary measures." Mr. Crouch looks her square in the eye and starts winding a muffler around his neck.

From that moment, the center cannot hold, forcing us to ask what these world-weary characters should have done, or if the outcome was inevitable all along.

And every time, I'm sucked along with the Ministry’s man

 until I return breathlessly to the beginning, desperate hope this ending will somehow be different.

[joyffree]

Title: Almost in Amalfi Series: Vagabond Series Author: Leigh Adams Genre/Tropes: Best Friends to Lovers, Second Chance, Travel Romance, Steamy, Spicy, Interracial Couple Release Date: August 29, 2023

Two best friends. A secret crush. Ten days to fall in love . . . again.

Val I almost had it all until my world turned upside down. I needed an escape from my cheating ex-boyfriend and my meddling mother. My best friend and one-time love, Raymond Smith, convinced me to pack my bags and leave the past in the past. A getaway to the Amalfi Coast was just what I needed. Romance is in the air. Our passion reignites. I swore I’d never let him break my heart again. But the more I tried to resist him, the more I realized he just might deserve a second chance.

Ray I desperately needed a vacation. I’ve held on to my secret for long enough. This trip was the perfect cover for me to prove how perfect we are together and finally win her back. Val may think it’s too late to begin again, but I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life—and I won’t leave Amalfi without her.

Escape to Amalfi as Ray and Val share a steamy rendezvous that will have them both questioning whether best friends do indeed make the best lovers.

[ukiyokki]

mars reads too much dreamnotfound fanfiction for their own good

a dreamnotfound fanfic recommendation list by your resident dumbass (me)

this took way to fucking long... i’m tired

below is a (very extensive) list dedicated to all my favorite dnf fics, ranging from quick one shots to 100k+ word monstrosities that devour the storage on my computer, forever incomplete masterpieces to ongoing works of art, you get the idea. i provided links for each fic/series for your reading pleasure. there will be no smutty/nsfw fics on this list, that’s just not my vibe lmao. this list goes in no particular order, and i’ll update it from time to time when i feel like it. now, without further ado, let us begin.

Heat Waves (complete) by tbhyourelame

(wtf else did you expect, looking at a dnf rec list?) amazingly well written, and while it’s not my favorite dnf fic it’s damn near close. in the midst of a brutal heatwave, a suffering dream comes to terms with the fact that he is desperately in love with his best friend. everything i could say about this fic has already been said by nearly everyone who’s read it, so if you haven’t yet caved into the hype, just go for it. you won’t be disappointed.

Gonna be around (completed) by georgescatcafe

(mc irl) my favorite dnf oneshot to date. just read it, i don’t wanna spoil for you :)

Inferno in the Sky (ongoing)by zairielon

(star wars au) an ongoing star wars au currently clocking in at almost 200k words. need I say more? everything about it absolutely slaps, each chapter is amazingly written, and it’s just good. also, can we just appreciate dream and tubbos dynamic in here? 10/10, amazing, must protecc. oh right, a summary: george, an exiled padawan turned engineer, must return to the jedi temple after attacks on it from an unknown assailant threaten the safety of himself and the other jedi.

Like Magic (ongoing) by KangarooKen, NotGra55 (Gra55)

(harry potter au) the unofficial official dnf harry potter au. we watch the young unlikely wizard pair grow up together throughout their years at hogwarts as they battle good old fashioned wizard racism. beautifully written, incredibly fun and suspenseful, and just an overall blast and a half.

GeorgeNotFound, Son of Poseidon, and the League of Minor Gods (ongoing) by Clichewho_69, Cygnvs, Trash_Kinggg

(percy jackson au) percy jackson au? check. “road trip” (technically quest but u get what i mean)? check. enemies to friends to lovers? check. this fic follows the plot of the lightning theif (albeit loosely), but everything is explained enough where you don’t have to read percy jackson to understand what’s going on. basically after moving to the usa, george gets taken to camp halfblood where he learns that a) gods exist. b) he’s the son of poseidon and c) he needs to prove that he didn’t steal zeus’s master bolt.

Protected (completed) by aenqua

(royalty/camelot au) my favorite piece of dnf media of all time. dubbed the official dnf camelot au, where dream is the heir to the throne and george is a servants son with a secret that couldp get him killed. these childhood friends grow up together and learn trust, love, and acceptance. (that summary did not justice to the masterpiece that is this fic) here’s the directors cut

The Hunter (completed) by HederEgo

(mc irl) a choose your own adventure fic with 13 different endings, where dream the hunter must kill george and stop him from beater the ender dragon. enough said.

The official dream team cowboy AU (series)(ongoing) by antsu_in_my_pantsu

(cowboy au) cowboys and outlaws horses and shit. and the big gay. it’s a cowboy au, what else did you expect? fucking yee haw (all seriousness this is a great read, i loved it so so so so much and i can’t wait for the final chapter to release).

This is a Drista moment, let's just accept it (completed) by Qekyo

dnf fic from drista pov. considering its unique perspective, it’s perfectly done. beautifully showcases a sibling relationship through drista and her memories/moments with dream, and it just works, y’a know? also drista supremacy.

Dear Dream (completed) by Qekyo

(wwii au) i don’t cry when watching/reading anything sad. translation: i’m a heartless bitch. however, this fic is the only exception. it caused me to cry so hard my mom walked in my room and asked if i was ok. ‘nuff said.

TECHNOlogical Wingman (completed) by Closeted_Bookworm

techno is the autocorrect ai on dreams phone, and he gains sentience. interesting concept, and the author fucking nailed it. great fic.

It Was Only a Fic (ongoing) by imagineitdear

dream starts reading a dnf fanfic (we’ve all been there buddy).

Teacher’s Pet (ongoing) by niyuha

(teacher au) in which dream is a high school english teacher and george is the new comp sci teacher in room 297.

Saltwater Secrets (ongoing) by earlgay_milktea

(mermaid/high school au) a great example of the shear amount of variety in fics this fandom has to offer. when i started reading dnf fics i would have never thought i’d find one about a mermaid george hopelessly crushing on his human friend, who happens to be his schools star swimmer. yet here i am, and i am far from disappointed.

Smash My Heart (incomplete) by dontrollthedice

george and sapnap are commentators for duper smash brothers tournaments, and george develops a crush on an up and coming smash streamer named dream.

roleplaying in the dark is harder than it seems (completed) by Alienu

laser tag. 10/10

solar system (completed) by quartzfia

(mc irl) george vists dream in pandora’s vault.

Ramblings of a Lunatic (completed) by jungkooksfic

ahh communicating through a notebook left on a shelf in a bookstore- what a perfect way to start a relationship.

Paint me like your French Girls (It's Charcoal, Actually) (completed) by Turtle_ier

(artist au) george is an art student, and dream is a model.

00:00:00 (completed) by isleofdreams

(soulmate au) 00:00:00 is the moment you meet your soulmate, as indicated but the clock ticking down on your wrist until the moment you meet. i’m not a fan of soulmate aus; this fic is the exception.

Blue Skies Smilin' At Me (completed) by kivy

(artist au) i don’t usually cry while reading stuff, but this brought me damn near close. george is a painting conservator and chats it is with the ghost of the artist if the painting he is working on. they fall in a love.

Current Location (incomplete) by hendollana

(influencer au) george simps for a hot american instagram model. who knew he’d actually follow back?

The Withering (series) (series ongoing, 1 work completed) by App1e_Juice

(mc irl) lore and world building and fight scenes and everything i crave. what’s not to love? something starts making the plants and crops around dreams village wither, and must team up with new friends to find the cause of the mysterious disease plaguing the land.

Minecraft, But You Can't Leave (complete) by facadecake

(mc irl) dream and george are sucked into their own private minecraft world together and must beat the game to escape.

Free The Game, Beat the End (incomplete) by goatgoatwasfound

(mc irl) a glitch in minecraft causes thousands of players from around the world to be trapped inside minecraft, with only one way of escape- beating the ender dragon. first dnf fic i ever read, and it’s still 10/10 for me.

Why don't you come a little closer? (completed) by lifeofandoms

george gets stood up by a date, and Dream pretends he’s the date to save george from the embarrassment. simply adorable.

lightning bug (completed) by saintachesP

(band au) while on tour, dream realizes his feeling for george.

Hold me closer (completed) by Treesofmyheart

(mc irl/dsmp) i just,, really like this trope.

Dizzy on caffeine (completed) by GleamingGreenGoggles

(coffee shop au) best dnf coffeeshop au i’ve read. periodt.

living a life of crime isn’t always easy (series) (completed) by itisjosh

(mafia/assassin au) stockholm syndrome except it’s not weird.

Inhibitions Make Interesting Situations (completed) by Ship_On_The_Sea

i pissed myself laughing. it’s just a dream and george being hilariously dense, flustered idiots. serotonin central.

thy eternal summer shall not fade (completed) by gracequills

(high school au) that moment when you recite shakespeare to your crush in your ap lit class instead of confessing (hate it when that happens).

All is Fair in love and Football (ongoing) by graciegirl2001

(college au) #1 favorite college au. in which george is a cheerleader, and dream is the football teams rising star player. this one gets extra points because of the amazing karlnap moments sprinkled throughout. *chefs kisses air*

online love (completed) by andbutso

(high school au) online classes go zoooooooom

Can’t help falling (completed) by isleofdreams

dream re-learns the guitar to sing to george on his birthday. beautiful. fluffy. amazing

dance in the rain and my arms (completed) by lazy_kitkat

george is a rain god, and dream is a wind god

Weather Boy (completed) by DaintyDiizzle

wouldn't you like to know, weather boy? (where dream can control the rain)

The color orange (completed) by anon

(mc irl) dream describes the colors of a sunset

Family Mode (completed)by Strawberry_flavoured_tears

they’re dads :,)

Breathing Room (incomplete) by papercranes

(band an) an amazing band au. the mad lad author wrote original songs for each chapter. above and beyond, mad props :). unfortunately, it’s incomplete

Piece of Clay (completed) by carbonbrine

(artist au) george is a sculptor and his sculpture comes to life- but oh no he’s hot.

Try (completed) by Not4typicalwriter

(royalty au) george must choose a suitor, but none of them are up to dream, his head knights, standards. or dream is hella jelly. also protective dream is perfect

When the Roses Bloom (completed) by HederEgo

(royalty au) close second for my favorite fic. go to royalty au for a quick serotonin bost. it’s all fluff and flowers and crushes, and i love it. criminally underrated.

Heavenstruck (ongoing) by dontrollthedice

george is dreams guardian angel, and dream want to find out more about him and his past life. bittersweet :,)

Bang and Burn (completed) by App1e_Juice

(spy au) george accidentally falls for target number 1 on sapnap’s secret agency’s hit list. this ones great, i love me a spy au :)

Can I get a uhh… (completed) by lemonskies

dream keeps pulling up to the drive through mcdonald’s that george works at drunk.

Pretty Stranger (completed) by anon

when looking for dream in the terminal, george sees a cute guy and decides to flirt.

Take my Hand (completed) by latinbias

(royalty au) another royalty au? poggers. surprise twists? double poggers. love this a lot.

seconds, minutes, hours, lifetimes (complete) by meridies

ROAD TRIP ROAD TRIP ROAD TRIP ROAD TRIP *inhales to compose herself* roadtrip au. unrequited love, ignored feelings, longing, pining, you know the drill. absolutely love this one, its the best roadtrip au i have ever read, in any fandom. (maybe cause i identify with it a little too much, but thats not important. whats important is that you read this fic. right now. im waiting).

Message redacted (complete) by justyouraverageloser

(text fic) dream asks for a girls number and realises hes been given the wrong number. however, an unexpected relationship starts to form between him and the stranger on the other end of the line.

the waves (completed) by anon

(mc irl) this fic was written by the same anon who wrote the color orange, which is up there on my fav dnf oneshot list. dream and george know they have a higher purpose. they don’t know where they came from, or why they are seemingly the only humans in the world, or how they feel about eachother, or even where the skeletons come from, but they are sure of one thing: they have to beat a dragon.

The Dream Doll (completed) by PeppDream (Pep_Pizza)

(voodoo i guess) i’m a real big fan of fics with really out there or unique concepts, so naturally this one makes the cut! i really liked it, it’s really sweet and made me think a lot about what matters to me in the world. george finds a strange doll in an antique shop, and would really like to just stuff it in a drawer and forget about it. sadly (?), the doll has other plans.

last updated February 6th, 2021

[once-upon-an-animation]

As one of the people who strongly disliked TSATS, here are all the reasons that I think people felt that way:

- First and foremost, Mark Oshiro’s writing style and approach to the Riordanverse does not blend in well with the style that readers are used to. Rick Riordan usually takes a fast-paced action-packed approach, and within the first series, Rick was good at leaving vague/implicit/subtle findings that were open to interpretation. While this approach does have its flaws, it generally works and is one thing people really like. Mark, for whatever reason, can’t mesh with that style. Their pacing is very, very, very slow, their approach to action and battle conflict isn’t very interesting, and they’re very blatant/hamfisty with the themes and observations; very little is left up to imagination.

- During one of the tour stops for the TSATS (or maybe even on Twitter), Mark admitted to having read Solangelo fanfic. This is really revealing, because “It feels like fanfiction!” is one of the most common critiques launched at the novel, and personally, I think it shows. Even in the first few chapters, something about the world and the characters doesn’t feel quite right. There’s a lot of OOC moments, fanservice moments, cliche tropes and dialogue, humor that’s little more than pop culture references and themes that are just too in your face. All in all, it doesn’t feel or sound like a classic Riordanverse story; it feels like a poor imitation of one.

- Back to characters being OOC or not feeling in line with who they’ve been established to be: this book is littered with moments like that. Nico feels like he’s had a lot of off-page development, with some moments feeling more like Fanon!Nico rather than Canon!Nico. Will is unusually incompetent in this book and can’t seem to help himself. Mr. D is uncharacteristically nice and seems to be really publicly invested in demigod wellness all of a sudden. The boys go to Annabeth and Percy for advice, and you’d think a true ‘Wise’ girl would tell them something practical, like where to find Hermes’ shrine, which rivers they can drink from, getting through the House of Night, etc. But no, all she can offer is advice about being cheesy with each other. Nyx, for some poorly-explained reason, seems to be overly concerned with how Nico is choosing to live his life, despite the fact that she’s a primordial goddess who’s one of the most powerful entities in the mythos, who used to be Queen of the gods before passing the crown to Ouranos in some accounts, and who dwells in one of the most terrifying places that most demigods would never step foot into. Some little queer kid from a glorified summer camp in the mortal world shouldn’t even register on her radar, let alone require a whole scheme to lure him down into Tartarus. And yet, here she is, obsessing over Nico’s nature as if it has any bearing on her. She could have gone her whole existence without ever acknowledging who Nico was, and literally nothing would be different for her.

- The sense of stakes in this book were lacking. There were already moments where Tartarus didn’t feel as life-changing as it could have in House of Hades, and Tartarus becomes even more of a joke in this book. Very infrequently did Nico and Will actually feel like they were in danger and/or facing threats as serious as anything Percabeth went through.

- The pacing was absolutely terrible. The journey through Tartarus was used as the main selling point of the book, but yet, it takes the boys 32 out for 57 chapters to actually get into Tartarus. The fact that it takes them more than halfway through the entire novel just to begin the real meat of the quest is absolutely ridiculous, and I will never understand that writing decisions.

- Last but not least, the themes of this novel were poorly handled/not explored effectively, with Will being the biggest victim of this. There are many angles to approach the whole “not comfortable with death or darkness” arc, and I feel like Mark/Rick chose the approach that made the least amount of sense for Will. Not to mention, the conclusion Will comes to regarding the Underworld is essentially that “it’s not a bad place because living things can thrive down there”. This is not an offensive sentiment in and of itself, but it’s the wrong lesson for Will to learn. Will should have concluded that the Underworld is a neutral place not because of the presence of light/living things, but because death and darkness are not inherently evil concepts or phenomena. Death is a natural element of the world. Darkness is a natural element of the world. Though they are often associated with evil things, they are not intrinsically evil, and they have their place in the cycles of humanity.

There’s more I could say, but those are the most common arguments I’ve seen.

Miscellaneous PJO Post (7 of ??)

Ok, this question is for my fellow solangelo antis:

Why exactly is tsats so polarising? I mean, I understand the Platinum Principle of opinions and nuances, but tsats is so polarising that I was wondering what possible reasons are there. [Basically just give your answers in comments/reblogs. I’ll throw in my theory later (it’s kinda lame…)]

[cabinofimagines]

Hi! Can I please request dating carter kane headcanons ? Thank you

I have little experience, but after 2 hours of rereading stuff I sure hope I got some of his character right!

Pairing: Carter Kane x reader Word count: 600 Warnings: None

-Asnyox

The two of you probably met by you arriving at the Brooklyn House. You were first introduced to Sadie, who eventually after a quick tour of the house introduced you to her ‘deadly boring’ brother (her words.)

When Carter laid eyes upon you he lost all composure. He was doing something - for sure he must have, however as soon as he laid his eyes on you he was starstruck. So much so that he barely managed to get a word out before Sadie took you away, grinning like an idiot at her brother's little crush. Oh she will have so much fun with this.

It took a while before Carter could behave like a normal person around you. In the beginning he often info-dumped you a lot on whatever you asked about, but after a while he got used to the stammering in his chest whenever he talked to you which made social interactions a lot easier.

Fast forward past a lot of teasing from Sadie and a awkward confession after a dangerous mission and the two of you are dating

Dates with Carter have a bit of range - he tends to try to be a gentleman when it comes to dates. Dinner dates where he opens doors for you, gets your seat and where he overall is a gentleman. The other side of dates would be casual study or research dates, just the two of you (and a lot of books)

If you want more 'teen' dates, like the movies or going shopping, you would need to ask Carter. After all, he has been taught to be a bit uptight and gentlemany, so these things are more like tropes of movies for him, but he would not mind letting you take the lead sometimes (although he would worry if you pick dangerous stuff as in skydiving or something. Why would you want that? You face danger every day?)

Carter is not a kissing-in-the-halls PDA person, but he does like to show the world that you are his. He wouldn't mind standing close, holding hands or having an arm around your hips. And goodbye kisses are mandatory (which results in groans of Sadie)

At the Brooklyn house he is pretty awkward to do physical affection, he is more of a quality time, acts of service kind of person. But if you guide him and reassure him how to cuddle and hold you he can learn, slowly.

Speaking of the Brooklyn house, if you date Carter you will become more responsible in the house. Don't let him catch you slacking off - you will be scolded by him. He would appreciate it if you took some of his responsibilities and helped him with work around the house.

Carter is not the person to get jealous easily, but he is insecure. You need to reassure him that you truly are his, and only his. So although he might not get all possessive of you, he might distance himself until you seek him out and ask what is going on.

If you are gone for a long time he will miss you, and he makes it clear as he hugs you when he sees you again. It might also be that he was worried - because the world out there is dangerous and he can't protect you when you are not by his side. If you have to go on a mission for the house, he would much rather tag along then let you go alone, just to make sure that you are safe.