#and only be able to remember it from the feeling it gives me when i think about being that age

[witchywithwhiskey]

the luckiest bastard in pittsburgh

pairing: dr. jack abbot x coffee shop night shift worker!female reader

this is mostly fluff but there's some allusions to smut/18+ content toward the end so minors do not interact!!!

a/n: i finished the pitt the other night and have been consumed with dr. jack abbot as a character and thinking about what he'd be like in a relationship. because he's such a capable doctor, but he seems like he's kind of a mess in every other aspect of his life, and i love the idea of him being a bit of a bumbling mess while falling in love. so here are some thoughts about all that.

if y'all enjoy this, i'm thinking of rewriting it as a proper series, potentially showing both points of view, and diving deeper into the smutty bits that would come later. so if you're interested in that, do let me know!

Dr. Jack Abbot doesn't even like coffee that much, even if it helps him get through the night shift. Jack finds comfort in the darkness, but on the rough nights, when the horror seems endless, it's your pretty smile that really gets him through till dawn...

it isn't long after he first sees you at the small café next to the hospital that Jack starts getting coffee every night, either stopping in before his shift or ducking out from the ER for a cup of black coffee in the early hours of the morning—if he can pull himself away.

he finds himself making excuses to linger in the coffee shop, asking you whether you enjoy the night shift, his mouth twisting in a hint of a smile when you admit that you do. it's quiet, and you like the quiet.

it takes a while before Jack works up the nerve to ask you for your name, and his knees nearly sag with relief when you give it to him freely.

there's another of your pretty smiles on your face when you tell Jack your name—and this time, it's all for him.

a flicker of warmth trembles to life in his chest, a spark of something he hasn't felt in a long, long time. he feels the need to protect it from the yawning darkness in his chest.

Jack introduces himself to you as, "Dr. Jack Abbot, but you can call me Jack." and you look at him from under your lashes, a teasing glimmer in your eyes as you murmur, "it's nice to meet you, Dr. Jack."

hearing you call him that, in your sweet voice, does something to Jack's chest and he's not quite sure what to do about it. he has half a mind to check himself out for a heart event as he trudges blindly back to the hospital, black coffee in hand.

but then he's plunged back into the chaos of the ER and he doesn't have time to think about the strange fluttering behind his sternum whenever he remembers your smile or your voice or the way you called him Dr. Jack.

he decides it's nice, actually, and that maybe he could learn to live with it.

one late night/early morning—all Jack knows is that it's past 3am but the sun hasn't started to rise yet—he's in the coffee shop, doing his best to chat with you when a car backfires outside on the street. you jump, spilling scalding hot coffee over your hand. the paper cup and coffeepot tumble to the floor, the latter shattering and sending glass flying across the tile.

before Jack knows what he's doing, he's catapulted himself over the counter. glass crunches beneath the soft soles of his shoes as he makes his way to you, moving faster than he has in years to get to you.

you're biting your lip against the pain, tears shimmering in your wide eyes—but there's no fear in your gaze, only a desperate pleading for help. Jack's heart surges in a way it never does in the ER, beating harder and faster, his nerves buzzing to life after so many years spent dormant.

thankfully, all Jack's years of training kick in and he's able to take control of the situation on muscle memory alone.

gently, he takes your arm and leads you to the sink behind the counter, kicking glass out of his way to clear a path for you. he flicks on the tap and checks that the water is cool, but not too cold, before he guides your quivering hand beneath the stream.

with his other hand, Jack tips your chin up to look at him and his chest squeezes with a concerning force when he sees that tears have spilled down your cheeks.

right then, Jack knows he'd tear out his own heart with a pair of forceps if it meant never seeing you cry again.

with fingers shaking in a way they never do when he's working in the ER, Jack brushes your tears from your cheeks. his throat is tight with a panic that feels foreign and overwhelming, but he knows it has everything to do with the fact that it's you who's hurt. through it all, he manages to murmur words of comfort.

"you're alright, i've got you. just keep your hand under the water, sweetheart. you're doing so well, just stay right there. you're gonna be ok, i'm gonna take care of you, i promise."

when the tears have stopped, Jack asks where he can find the café's first aid kit, which he fetches quickly before returning to your side.

he knows he's standing too close, crowding into your space, but he can't help himself. he needs the physical reminder that you're there, that you're going to be ok, and he's going to make sure of it.

when he flips open the first aid kit and quickly takes stock of what supplies are inside, he can't help but grumble roughly. he doesn't even know he's muttering under his breath about everything the kit is missing until a little puff of laughter escapes you and he looks up in surprise.

your eyes are still wide, a tightness around them that tells Jack you're still in pain and are being brave about it, but there's something else shimmering in the depth of your gaze. something like fondness, something warm that reaches straight into Jack's chest and wraps around his heart, squeezing in a way that's both painful and pleasant, torture and comfort.

"i'm sorry about your coffee."

your words pull jack from his scattered thoughts, and before he can think better of it, he says, "fuck the coffee." his voice is low and rough, but that doesn't seem to scare you.

his blunt words draw another giggle from you, and Jack feels practically high from the relief and rapture the sound inspires in him. distantly, he considers booking himself in for a head scan when he gets back to the hospital, but he knows the sudden off-kilter feeling has nothing to do with a potential brain injury and everything to do with the way you make him feel.

your laughter trails off too soon, but you're still smiling, looking at him from under your lashes, almost like you're suddenly shy. "if you have time, Dr. Jack, i'll brew another pot."

"i've got time," Jack says, the 'for you' left unsaid. but Jack thinks you know what he means, because your face softens, your eyes looking at him like he hung the moon, and your lips curving into the prettiest smile he's seen yet.

the two of you linger in that moment as long as possible, like neither of you want it to pass. but, inevitably, it does.

Jack looks away first, coughing to clear his suddenly dry throat. his movements are jerky and awkward at first, as he starts pulling supplies from the first aid kit's meager offerings, but his hands steady as his training takes over, and he's never been more thankful for it.

in no time at all, Jack has your hand bandaged and you tell him you're feeling a lot better. before you can thank him, he's writing down his personal phone number on the back of one of the café's loyalty punch cards and telling you to call or text him if you have any questions about treating or re-bandaging the burn.

you take the card with a gentle smile, your eyes roving over his face in a way that makes him shift his weight from foot to foot. he has to bite back a wince when he feels a twinge of discomfort from his leg rubbing against his prosthetic, but he won't stop you from looking.

you thank him for his help, and seem to hesitate before stepping close to him—so close, his heart riots in his chest and his breath catches in his throat. his entire body is lit up, his nerves feeling like live wires, even as he stands perfectly still, as if any sudden movement could spook you.

your lips brush against Jack's grizzled cheek and it's embarrassing how his body reacts to such a chaste kiss, blood flowing to places he thought were half-dead from disuse. his heart is pumping in his chest and his fingers twitch with the need to reach for you, while another part of him, below the waistband of his scrubs, also strains for you.

he wants to wrap you up in his arms and haul you against his chest. he wants to kiss you, to learn how you taste and how you'd sound coming apart on his tongue, and how you'd smile when you're wrapped up in the sheets of his bed.

he wants to map every curve of your body with his calloused hands. he wants to take you home and cook you breakfast. he wants to protect you from ever being hurt again.

Jack knows none of that is possible, that there's no way a sweet, pretty thing like you would want an old, haggard doctor like him. but he'd settle for another kiss on his cheek...

the first time you text Dr. Jack Abbot, it’s only a few hours later. the sun is high in the sky and Jack wakes from a dead sleep at the vibration of his phone on the nightstand.

he doesn’t sleep well. his body never quite unlearned the training it got overseas when he had to be awake and alert at a moment’s notice—or risk his life or those of his fellow soldiers.

but when Jack sees your name and your innocent question asking him whether it’s ok to put aloe on the burn before freshening the bandage, he calms and smiles to himself. it's a smart idea, and he tells you as much.

after he answers your message, he drops back to sleep as easily as breathing, the ghost of a smile still on his lips and the memory of your eyes in his mind.

as the burn on your hand heals, you keep texting Jack questions even though he’s pretty sure you already know the answers—but he won’t do or say anything to discourage you from texting him.

not when you indulge him by sending photos of your hand during the day. and not when you're patient with him when he checks how you’re healing every night when he comes into the coffee shop for his daily fix (though he hasn't told you yet that your smiles do much more for him than the caffeine ever could).

he praises you for taking care of your injury well, his chest warm with pride, his heart surging at the pretty little smile and soft "thank you" you give him.

eventually, the burn on your hand heals, but you keep texting Jack.

at first it’s superficial questions like whether he’s coming in that night—even though Jack is pretty sure you’ve noticed he comes in every night—or telling him about a strange order or funny customer you had.

but soon you start asking him how his night is going and what he does when he’s not at the hospital.

Jack has to scramble to come up with hobbies that aren’t sleeping and listening to the police scanner, the night shift nurses sharing a judgemental look and biting back laughter when he asks them what normal people do for fun.

when he tells you he reads and watches movies, though, you seem pleased.

everyone in the ER knows something’s going on with Dr. Jack Abbot. he’s going on coffee runs every night when they were only rare occurrences in the past, checking his phone so much it’s practically glued to his hand, and he’s smiling more—real smiles, not just the twist of his lips into the approximation of one.

Dr. Robby has even stopped finding him on the roof. or, at least, not as close to the edge.

the security guards and some of the nurses have a betting pool going for who the new person in Dr. Abbot’s life is. Jack pretends to ignore it, but he can’t keep the smile off his face when he sees the board because it reminds him of you.

it’s a few weeks later when Jack finally blurts out the question he’s been wanting to ask you since the first time you smiled at him.

“you wanna go out sometime? with me?”

your grin is wide and beaming, that teasing gleam in your eye when you respond, “took you long enough, Dr. Jack.”

on Jack’s next night off—which happens to be your night off as well—he takes you out. it’s nothing fancy, just dinner at place where you can get a good beer and burger, then you walk through a park, hands brushing tentatively a few times before he finally laces his fingers through yours. your hand is soft in his calloused one and Jack thinks he’s never felt anything quite so perfect.

he walks you home and you hesitate at your door. you don’t invite him in, but you sway into his chest, your face tilted toward his.

bathed in the golden light of the lampposts, you look like an angel to Jack, all soft eyes and a pretty smile.

the two of you linger in that moment, the hum of tension and desire thrumming in the space between your bodies. Jack is so busy marveling at your beauty and wondering why such a pretty thing has any interest in him that he nearly forgets what it means that your eyes keep drifting to his mouth, your pupils blowing wider in the low light.

but finally, he remembers.

Jack kisses you, his hands cupping your jaw and his mouth brushing against yours in the most teasing of caresses. you exhale a soft puff of air, chasing his mouth as he retreats and Jack smiles briefly before he’s giving you what you want. his lips press more firmly to yours, a groan rumbling deep in his chest.

Jack is surprised when your tongue flicks teasingly against his upper lip and he opens for you reflexively. in the next second, you’re licking into his mouth like you’re hungry for him, a gentle sound in your throat like you'll never be able to get enough of him.

the heat of you is nearly overwhelming and Jack's arms wrap around your back, hauling you tight against his chest while he kisses you back just as greedily. he prays you don’t notice how embarrassingly hard he is against your belly, a testament to how much and how long he's wanted you.

but then you moan into his mouth, your fingers carding through his silver-streaked hair, and Jack's mind goes entirely blank.

the kiss lasts forever and not long enough.

when Jack finally pulls away, he’s met with the wondrous sight of your dazed, slow-blinking eyes and kiss-swollen lips. he thinks that if he can’t keep kissing you, at least he can still look at you, your beauty leaving him just as empty-headed as your lips and tongue.

with a giggle at his slow-moving brain, you gently shove Jack away from your door and wish him a goodnight. he waits until you’ve gone inside and locked the door behind you before he retreats.

he walks home with his hands shoved in his pockets to stop himself from texting you to come back outside so he can keep kissing you, maybe even convince you he’s worth a damn—though a part of him suspects you already think he is. for whatever reason.

the next day, you text him that you had a good time on your date and are looking forward to seeing him again. it's accompanied by a selfie of you smiling, your lips still a little swollen from his kiss, and Jack nearly loses himself in his boxers at that simple sight.

his response to you is immediate, telling you he'll see you at the café that evening and he's looking forward to your next date. then he lays back in his bed, and thinks about your eyes, your smile, the pretty sounds you made when he kissed you. he imagines waking up next to you, curling his arms around your soft body and inhaling your sweet scent.

not for the first time—nor the last—Dr. Jack Abbot thinks he must be the luckiest bastard in Pittsburgh, all because of you.

hope y'all enjoyed!! again, let me know if you want to see a longer version of this story—probably broken up into chapters to be a full series. ♡ comments and reblogs are appreciated!!

[imnez-daydreams]

the art of noticing

pairing : benjamin poindexter x reader

warnings : extremely suggestive below read more, not outright explicit in detail (cause im not talented enough for full on smut lol) but just to be safe, don't read if below 18 !! quite a few religious themes/imagery too.

a/n : hii ! i've never written fanfiction before let alone anything spicy but the dex brainrot was too strong so please bear with me. special thank you to @kyamiia for inspiring me and letting me expand on the idea based on this, and to @babyangeldex for being THE sweetest ever with her encouragement, especially on me wanting to write for the first time !! credits for the header images goes to @bullseyelover, THE no1 bullseye fan hi i love you !! hope you enjoy fellow dex lovers <3

dex notices things.

it started even before you guys got together.

dex's eye for details only intensifies when he crawls his way into your heart. your home. your shared home. it was one thing being able to look through the glass of your apartment window, studying your routine. timing his sips perfectly to yours, anticipating that look of bliss when the coffee hit just right. pretending that faraway look and smile out the window was directed to him, reserved for him.

now though, dex doesn't have to be delusional anymore. there's no need to time his drinking with yours because he is making your coffee and spending the mornings with you. he knows just how you like it. he's memorised all your morning routine steps, catalogued every small tick in your face when you eat your breakfast, has your glossy eyes from watching your favourite romcom seared into his brain. he knows how to see that satisfied and "on cloud 9" face. how to be the reason for that pleasure.

when you laugh at dex's poor attempt of a joke, really laugh with your eyes crinkling in the corner, he thinks his heart stops. he thinks this is it. the sound of an angel come to gently lead him towards the afterlife, with the way your laughter wraps around his body like the soft embrace of an angel's wings.

so it makes perfect sense for dex's penchant for noticing to seep into your shared bedroom too. he needs to remember everything, he needs to file away every little sound, every facial expression. keeps it in the folders of his mind, locked away for nobody else to see. only unlocking these memories when he's hard at work, away from his angel. clings to the image of you, the sound of you like a lifeline. counts the seconds down to when he can finally lock up his place of worship again because you're back in his arms. but its not just for himself, to keep his hunger satiated. its for you too. so he can replay your reactions to everything he does and says. analyse what made you feel good. what can make you feel even better. let you float up to the same high he gets from watching you, being with you. don't worry, he'll be there to catch you in his protective embrace when you land back down.

the first time he sunk to his knees for you, he never took his eyes away from you. couldn't bear to, not when your face was so beautifully contorted in pleasure, pleasure he was giving to you. the rising pitch of your voice, the up and down movement of your chest, the low tilt of your eyes to keep that eye contact with him going. when you absentmindedly reach for dex's hair, tugging the short hairs at the back while begging with that sweet saccharine voice of yours,

"pl- please dex, i can't anymore. i need, ohmygod, i need it please, i need you dex"

it takes every. single. cell. in dex's body to not roll his eyes to the back of his skull and finish in his pants then and there. his years of military training, experience as FBI-SWAT all lead up to this moment. to practice that honed skill of restraint. he can't let go until you have, until you've reached that peak. when you do, you collapse backwards with a heaving chest. dex unclenches his bruising (posessive) grip on you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. not to waste a single drop, he licks his hand clean while slowly standing back up from his place of worship.

the sight that greets dex has him believing in God.

your hair is tousled just above your head like a halo.

your eyes that look up at him are completely glossed over, a single tear slowly cascading down the right side of your face.

your smile, oh, your sweet loving smile. directed at him, only him as if he was the answers to your prayers.

those aren't what drives dex over the edge though, oh no.

its you.

you looking like the epitome of an angel.

slowly hiking up your legs, opening them up shyly.

"more? please, dex?"

if this is how dex dies, he believes its worth it.

a/n : thank you so much if you've read to the end <3 !! this is very very beginner so pretty please be nice if you reblog with comments/ramblings, though i'd still appreciate any kind of support with likes/reblogs/comments hehe. (also yes i wrote this on my phone on drafts, and nearly got a heart attack when the draft vanished and accidentally uploaded before i was done so if you saw ... no you didnt)

[mageknife]

dorian being a delinquent is genuinely one of the best parts of his character to me. he challenged a teenager to a public duel when he was 9 and won. he got kicked out of so many circles that they ran out of circles to send him to. he got sent to the necropolis where he proceeded to have zero respect for necromancy despite being a natural talent. he got sent to individual tutors and all of the tutors hated him. his parents gave up and sent him to turbo-strict catholic school as a hail mary that someone could make him behave and it lasted three months before he dropped out.

and like it’s not because he wasn’t good at the material. he’s a genius. he was up his own ass about how talented at magic he was even as a kid. he caused trouble because he was better than his peers and they were jealous of him. he was bored and unfulfilled and he’s always despised authority trying to shove him into a box that he didn’t belong in. the only reason he ever became an enchanter at all was because alexius took him under his wing and actually understood him, and yes i’m thinking about alexius’s letter to his parents again.

He’s rather despondent over the life’s path you’ve charted for him—if I may speak frankly—and thus, I think a part of him sabotages all efforts to keep him on the straight and narrow, either to spite you or to punish himself.

spiting his parents makes sense; they’ve been trying to control his life since before he was born. he was literally engaged at birth. he never had a choice but to study magic and become an enchanter and, ideally, eventually become archon, but he rebelled against that at every turn. but what would he be punishing himself for? well:

I’m never what you wanted, Father, or had you forgotten?

maybe it was subconscious or maybe it was intentional, but knowing deep down that he would never be able to become what his parents saw as his only path spurred him to give them cause to be angry with him. the more he caused trouble, got expelled from circles, or ran away from his schooling, it was like driving an axe into a tree, digging the cut between who he was and who he was supposed to be deeper and deeper. he would do anything to make his father proud, but he would also go to great lengths to make him disappointed. and for what reason? to cushion the final blow when they eventually realized that he’d never be enough and the tree collapsed?

You let it keep hurting, because you think hurting is who you are.

it would always hurt. every time. even if he did exactly as he was expected to, it would hurt him in the end, because he fundamentally is not the person he was supposed to be, and that isn’t something that can be changed. so by tugging at the leash and feeling the collar burn against his neck, he’d be more prepared for it to slowly choke him, or for the sharp pain at the moment when he’d pulled and clawed at it enough that he’d be able to rip it off.

anyway he did kick that one kid’s ass and it’s really funny every time i remember it

[bats-pajamas]

It’s absolutely wild to me that the fandom immediately jumped to the conclusion that Duke is willing to let Eulalie die over Pluto. I get that the two are closer, and that this series is built on moral complexities, but this seems like such a misreading. Duke said it himself, pulling the lever is the most important part. He trusts Pluto more than Eulalie to be able to get the timing right. You can see this when he tells Eulalie what to do,

"I need you to listen to me very carefully" "do you understand, cherie?" "don't get distracted"

Plus look at this little worry face he gives her

This scene honestly tells us more on how Duke views Eulalie than his views on Pluto. In universe, this is only at most an hour after chapter 114. Duke probably still has that on the back of his mind and believes Eulalie is a potential liability. And you can argue that this is another case of the Misfits being ableist infantilizing towards Eulalie. And just like every time Eulalie is underestimated by the Misfits, she proves them wrong (You think they'll learn their lesson by now) .

Furthermore, if Duke truly didn't want to put Pluto in danger he's willing to put Eulalie at risk, you would think he would've fought back more against Pluto's insistence on being the bait. Or would give Pluto more of a heads up before chucking him In front of the wild Hunt. Or hell, again in 114, why would he save Eulalie from the dogs, putting both Pluto and him at risk, instead of slamming the door and locking it?

Maybe this whole thing is biased because I love Duke. But one of my favorite things about him is his faults! Don't take this as me thinking in black and white, or trying to absolve Duke of any wrongdoings or complexities. Take this as me being frustrated because of misreadings of a character I like. Since we've been seeing the softer sides of Annabel's team many fans are expecting for the Misfits to be shown as more grey, me included. But Duke lowkey pulling a Annabel Lee seems like a huge jump, at least currently. It's also frustrating because Will and Montresor's episodes have been picked apart more than a carcass surrounded by vultures. Meanwhile this episode and duke is only getting a nibble at the skin.

Like always feel free to disagree with me. But if you want to share your own argument remember don't be a dick about it. I know I come off as angry at the end there but I promise I'm open to others's thoughts.

[winchesterwild78]

Soldier Boy’s Homecoming

Master List

Characters: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Just pure filth. SMUT, Language, Porn without much plot. 

A/N: Sorry not sorry. I’m absolutely freaking FERAL! The recent con photos of Jensen are to blame. 

This story is nothing but pure SMUT. Please enjoy. 

I don’t own the rights to Soldier Boys character but all work is my own. Please feel free to share and like. Comments and suggestions are appreciated. 

*written fast and not edited. Please overlook any errors.*

Minors DNI 18+

“Welcome home Ben. I missed you.” I whispered into his ear as he took me in his arms in the bed. 

Ben looked up from where his face was buried in my hair, eyes widening at the sound of my voice. His heart leapt in his chest, pounding against his ribs like a drum.

"You're... awake?" He asked softly, voice rough from disuse. It had been so long since he'd spoken, the words foreign on his tongue.

I turned in his arms to face him, green eyes shining in the moonlight that filtered through the curtains. They were just as beautiful as I remembered, soft features and full lips curled into a warm smile.

"I missed you too," he whispered, as I reached up to cup his cheek. My thumb brushed over his cheekbone, tracing the sharp line of it.

Ben leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. The simple gesture felt like coming home, like everything he'd been searching for in the darkness.

He turned his head to press a kiss to my palm, lips brushing over the smooth skin. "I thought I'd lost you," he admitted quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

My brows furrowed, concern etched into my features. "How could you lose me when you were the one who left?" I asked, but there was no accusation in my tone. Only a gentle curiosity.

Ben sighed, leaning his forehead against mine. "I didn't leave by choice," he murmured, the words heavy on his tongue.

He knew he couldn't tell me the truth, not yet. Not until he had a plan, until he knew for certain that he wouldn't be ripped away from me again.

Instead, he caught my lips with his own, kissing me deeply. It started out slow, a soft brush of lips against lips, before it turned hungry and desperate.

He poured every ounce of longing and love into that kiss, every moment he'd spent dreaming of me, of holding me, of loving me.

His hands roamed on my back, pulling me flush against him until there wasn't an inch of space between our bodies. He could feel every curve and dip, every breath I took.

“Meet me at the hotel on Main in 15 minutes. I’ll check in under Sandra Dee.”

Ben pulled back from the kiss, chest heaving with ragged breaths. He searched my eyes, trying to gauge my expression in the dim light.

"Sandra Dee?" He repeated, brow quirked in amusement. "Really? I know I've been gone for a while, but I didn't think you'd resorted to using fake names."

I playfully rolled my eyes, a smirk playing on my lips. "It's not a fake name, ass. It's a pseudonym. And I'll have you know, I've used it quite a few times since you've been gone."

Ben chuckled, the sound rusty in his ears. "Alright, alright. I won't question your choices."

He glanced at the clock on the bedside table, seeing the glowing red numbers blur before his tired eyes. "15 minutes though? You're giving me a 15 minute head start?"

I shrugged one shoulder, a coy smile on my face. "Think you can make it in time, Soldier Boy?" I teased, using the old nickname like a weapon.

Ben grinned, a wicked glint in his eye. "Oh, I'll make it in time," he promised, voice low and dripping with unspoken desire. "But I can't guarantee I'll be able to control myself once I get there."

With that, he rolled out of bed and snatched up the bloody clothes he'd worn earlier. He knew he couldn't go to the hotel looking like a murderer.

"15 minutes," he repeated as he started to leave the room. "Don't keep me waiting."

And with that, he disappeared out the door and down the stairs, a man on a mission to get to his lover.

I grabbed my stuff and headed towards the hotel. Nervously waiting but filled with anticipation. God I missed him. I couldn’t wait to be in his arms again.

Ben stepped into the dimly lit lobby of the hotel on Main, the old carpet beneath his feet worn and stained. The air was thick with the scent of cigarettes and stale coffee, a far cry from the sterile halls of the Russian lab.

He approached the front desk, the bored looking clerk barely glancing up from her magazine as he leaned against the counter. "Sandra Dee," he said, voice low and gruff. "I have a reservation."

The clerk flipped through the pages of the registry, her nail polish chipped and cracked. "Ah, yes. Here it is." She handed him a key on a tarnished brass keychain. "Room 203. Second floor, down the hall to the left."

Ben snatched the key, the metal cool against his palm. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest

I waited. My skin was on fire with anticipation and goosebumps. Then I heard the door open. Soldier Boy standing there looking like a Greek God. My thighs clenched together and my breath hitched. His eyes raked over my body. I was wearing the dark green lingerie he bought me before he left.

Ben stepped into the room, the door clicking shut behind him with a sense of finality. His eyes immediately found me, drinking in the sight of me like a man dying of thirst.

I was a vision, standing by the window in the dim light spilling in from the streetlamps outside. The dark green lingerie hugged my curves, the soft fabric clinging to my full breasts and hips in a way that made Ben's mouth go dry.

His eyes raked over my body again, taking in every inch of exposed skin, every dip and swell that he remembered so well. It was like coming home, like seeing a piece of his soul standing before him.

"God, you're beautiful," he breathed, the words falling from his lips before he could stop them. He took a step closer, then another, until he was standing in front of me, close enough to feel the heat radiating off my skin.

His hand came up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing over the soft skin there. He leaned in, resting his forehead against mine, and let out a shuddering breath.

"I missed you," he whispered, voice rough with emotion. "I missed you so fucking much."

“I missed you too. I’ve missed your lips, your hands, your body and your cock.”

Ben's heart raced at my words, a wave of lust and longing crashing over him. He could feel his cock twitching in his pants, already hardening at the thought of touching me again.

"Fuck, Y/N," he growled, voice low and heavy with desire. "You have no idea how much I've missed you too. Missed every fucking inch of you."

His hands slid down to my waist, gripping my hips tightly. He pulled me flush against him, letting me feel the hard length of his cock pressing against my stomach.

"I've dreamed about this," he murmured, nuzzling into my neck. "Dreams of holding you, tasting you, fucking you until you scream my name."

He nipped at my throat, teeth grazing over my pulse point. His hands slid down to grab my ass, squeezing the firm globes and pulling me even harder against him.

"I want to worship every inch of you," he breathed, hot breath fanning over my ear. "Want to taste your skin, your lips, your cunt. Want to make you come on my tongue until you forget your own fucking name."

He rocked his hips against mine, the friction delicious even through our clothes. "Tell me you want it too," he demanded, voice rough and needy. "Tell me you need my cock as much as I need to be buried inside you."

“I want it. I need your cock buried inside me. Please make me cum Soldier Boy!”

Ben groaned at my desperate plea, his cock throbbing and straining against the confines of his pants. He couldn't hold back any longer. With a growl, he swept me up into his strong arms and carried me to the bed, laying me down on the worn but clean sheets.

"I'm going to make you cum so hard, baby," he promised darkly, his voice a low rumble. "Gonna worship this sexy fucking body until you're dripping and begging for my cock."

He started at my neck, his lips and tongue and teeth working over my sensitive skin. He licked and sucked and bit, marking me, claiming me as his.

His hands roamed my body, sliding under the thin fabric of the lingerie to cup and squeeze and tease. He rolled my nipples between his fingers until they were stiff peaks, until I was arching into his touch with needy little whimpers.

"Fuck, I love these tits," he groaned, ducking his head to take one into his mouth. He sucked hard, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, before grazing it with his teeth.

I cried out, hands fisting in his short brown hair, holding him to me. "Oh god, yes! Don't stop!"

Ben chuckled darkly around my breast, the vibrations sending shivers through my body. He moved to the other breast, giving it the same treatment until I was writhing beneath him, thighs rubbing together with desperate need.

He kissed down my body, tongue dipping into my navel before he was kneeling between my spread thighs. He looked up at me from under his lashes, green eyes dark with lust.

"Keep these thighs spread for me, baby," he ordered, hands gripping my inner thighs. "Keep this sweet cunt open and ready for my tongue and my cock."

And with that, he leaned in and dragged his tongue along my cloth-covered slit, groaning at the damp fabric, feeling the heat of my core even through the thin lingerie. He could smell my arousal, the musky scent of my heat. 

“Oh fuck Soldier Boy! Please!”

Ben could feel my need, hear it in the desperate plea that fell from my lips. It spurred him on, urged him to give me what I craved.

"Please what, baby?" he growled, voice vibrating against my cloth-covered sex. "Tell me what you need. Beg for it."

He punctuated his words with a firm press of his tongue against my clothed clit, the rough muscle circling the sensitive nub. He could feel the damp patch growing, the fabric molding to my shape.

I whimpered, hips bucking up against his face. "Please, I... I need your mouth on me. I need you to eat my pussy until I scream!"

Ben grinned wickedly, pleased with my desperation. "Good girl," he purred. "I'm going to devour this sweet cunt until you're shaking and begging for my cock."

With that, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties and yanked them down, tossing them aside. And then his mouth was on me, hot and hungry and insatiable.

He licked a hot stripe up my slit, groaning at the taste of me, the feel of my slick folds against his tongue. He delved deep, tongue plunging into my tight channel, fucking me with the slick muscle.

I cried out, back arching off the bed, hands fisting in his hair. "Oh god, yes! Just like that! Don't stop!"

Ben growled against my sex, the sound rumbling through my core. He lapped at my juices, drinking down the arousal like a man dying of thirst. His hands gripped my ass, pulling me harder against his mouth, grinding my dripping pussy against his face.

He zeroed in on my clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth, tongue flicking over it rapidly. He could feel me tensing, my thighs trembling around his head. He knew I was close.

"Cum for me, baby," he commanded, voice rough against my sex. "Cum all over my fucking face. I want to taste it, want to feel it dripping down my chin."

And with that, he redoubled his efforts, tongue and lips and teeth all working in tandem to bring me to the edge. He could feel my body tightening, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

Ben felt my body tense, my thighs clamping around his head as my orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave. He didn't let up, continuing to suckle and lick at my clit, pushing me through it, drawing out my pleasure.

As my climax hit, I let out a scream of ecstasy, my body convulsing, back arching sharply off the bed. And then, just as Ben had hoped, my release gushed out of me, my juices flooding his mouth and dripping down his chin.

He groaned in satisfaction, lapping up every drop, swallowing my essence greedily. He could feel my walls fluttering around his tongue, my honey flowing freely.

"That's it, baby," he praised, voice muffled against my pussy. "Come all over my face, just like that. Fucking soak me."

He continued to stroke my clit with the flat of his tongue, helping to prolong my high, until my body went limp and boneless against the mattress. Only then did he pull back, licking his lips with a wicked grin.

He crawled up my body, hovering over me, letting me see the mess I’d made of his face. "Look at you, so fucking sexy when you come undone," he murmured, voice rough and heavy with lust.

His cock was straining against his pants, a tent clearly visible. He rocked his hips against mine, letting me feel how hard he was, how much he needed me.

"I'm going to fuck you now," he promised darkly. "Gonna sink my cock deep into this tight little cunt and make you scream all over again."

He reached down to undo his belt, the metal clanking loudly in the quiet room. "Are you ready for it, baby? Ready to be split open on my thick cock?"

“Yes! Fuck me Soldier Boy!”

Ben didn't need to be told twice. With a feral growl, he shoved his pants and underwear down, freeing his massive, throbbing cock. It slapped against his stomach, leaving a smear of precum on his abs.

My eyes widened at the sight, a fresh gush of arousal flooding my core. I was still sensitive from my intense orgasm, but the thought of being filled by Soldier Boy's huge cock only heightened my desire.

He settled between my spread thighs, the thick head of his dick nudging against my entrance. I whimpered, trying to rock my hips to take him inside, but Ben held my hips still.

"Not yet, greedy girl," he teased, voice a low rumble. "I'm going to take you when I'm ready."

He rolled his hips, the underside of his cock sliding along my slit, coating itself in my slick arousal. I shuddered, head thrown back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut in bliss.

"Please, Soldier Boy," I begged, voice breathless and needy. "I need your cock so badly. I'm so empty..."

Ben shuddered, feeling the same desperation. He needed to be inside me, needed to claim me, to make me his again. With a final, deep breath, he thrust forward, the broad head of his cock popping past my entrance and sinking into my tight heat.

I cried out, a sharp gasp of pleasure that turned into a low moan as Ben pushed forward, inch after thick inch of his cock disappearing inside my clutching sex. He didn't stop until he was fully sheathed, his heavy balls nestling against my ass.

"Fuck, you're so fucking tight," Ben groaned, head dropping to my shoulder as he fought the urge to come right then and there. "So fucking perfect."

He paused for a moment, letting me adjust to the size of him, before he started to move. He pulled out slowly, until just the tip remained inside me, before slamming back in with a force that shook the bed.

"Yes!" I screamed, fingers digging into Ben's back, nails leaving red crescents in his skin. "Harder!"

Ben grinned, a feral, wolfish smile that made my heart race. He started to pound into me, hips slapping against mine with each powerful thrust. 

“Oh fuck! Yes Ben!”

Ben could feel my pussy clenching around him, my walls fluttering and gripping his pistoning cock like a velvet vise. He groaned, the sound rumbling through his chest as he pistoned his hips faster, driving into my welcoming heat with increasing force.

"That's it, baby," he growled, voice rough and heavy with lust. "Take my cock. Fucking take it!"

He hooked my knees over his elbows, nearly bending me in half as he loomed over me. The new angle allowed him to drive even deeper, the head of his cock kissing my cervix with each powerful thrust.

I could only moan and gasp, my voice rising in pitch as my pleasure mounted. I could feel every ridge and vein of Ben's thick shaft as it stretched me wide, filling me so completely.

"Harder!" I begged, hands fisting in the sheets beneath me. "Fuck me harder, Soldier Boy! Ruin my pussy!"

Ben snarled, a dark, dangerous sound that sent a thrill of fear and excitement down my spine. He complied with my demand, slamming into me with enough force to rock the headboard against the wall.

The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with their wanton moans and cries. Ben could feel my body tensing, my walls starting to ripple around his cock. 

Ben could feel my body starting to tremble, my walls clamping down around his pistoning cock like a silken vice. He knew I was close, could hear it in the desperate pitch of my moans and the way my nails raked down his back.

"That's it, baby," he growled, voice tight with his own impending release. "Come on my cock. Fucking soak it!"

He reached between their sweat-slicked bodies, his calloused fingers finding my sensitive clit. He rubbed the swollen nub in tight, rough circles, pushing me closer to the edge.

I let out a high, keening cry, my back arching off the bed as my orgasm crashed over me. My pussy clamped down around Ben's cock, the muscles fluttering and rippling as I came hard.

The sensation was too much for Ben to withstand. With a hoarse shout, he slammed into me one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his own release overtook him. His cock jerked and throbbed as he emptied himself inside me, painting my walls with thick ropes of his hot seed.

"Fuck, Y/N!" he roared, head thrown back in ecstasy as he filled me with his come. "Take it, fucking take it all!"

I could only moan weakly, my body going limp beneath him as I felt the warmth of his release flooding my core. I could feel it sloshing inside me, the sheer volume of it making my belly bloat slightly.

Ben collapsed on top of me, careful not to crush me with his weight. He panted harshly, his chest heaving against mine as we both struggled to catch our breath.

"That was... fuck, that was incredible," he murmured, voice rough and sated. He lifted his head to look at me, green eyes soft with adoration and lust. "I love you, Y/N. I fucking love you so much."

I could only smile up at him, reaching up to cup his cheek. "I love you too, Soldier Boy," I whispered. "Welcome home."

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[whateverisbeautiful]

I love ur content🙂🙂 so my question is what are ur top 5 fav delete scene from Rick and or Michonne or both?

Thanks so much @theoneswholive32! Thinking about this question, I realized three of my Top 5 favorite deleted scenes were all from 9.03 lol. Wrote out my list below. 💗⬇️:

#5: Richonne at the doctor's office with Judith (9.03)

I love seeing Rick and Michonne in full parent mode during the scene where they both take Judith to Siddiq to check on her cough. The way they assure Judith they’re going to do a Family Fun Day right after is so cute, and I like that Rick can share a knowing glance with Michonne when Siddiq asks about Judith’s family history. When they learn that a savior is missing, Michonne seems unsettled by that, but I always like the subtle moment at the end of this deleted scene when it seems that just looking at Rick and how unconcerned he is seems to give her a sense of calm for now.

#4: Richonne talking to Maggie before the Final War (8.16)

There’s a pattern on this deleted scenes list of me loving whenever Richonne get to operate as parents. And it’s nice seeing the two of them offer up their take on what it means to fight for your kids with an expecting Maggie. It’s especially meaningful considering the child Rick and Michonne lost this season, too. And then I like that as Maggie walks away, Michonne and Rick have their own private moment, and Michonne gets to tell Rick that she honored Carl’s wish of getting his letter to Negan. 

#3: Rick talking to Carol about finding The Right One (9.03)

I really like it when Rick and Michonne get to talk about their relationship with other people, and it didn’t happen often. But it does happen in this deleted scene, and seeing Rick beam with pride in getting to affirm he found the right one for him in finding Michonne was great. I like how Rick’s Lover Boy spirit means that he’s genuinely happy when other people find love too, so it was sweet that he took note of Carol’s wedding ring and let her know she found a good person and the right person in this apocalypse. And then it’s great that Carol feels the same way about Rick, believing he found his person in Michonne. And again, Rick emphasizing that by saying, “Yeah, I did,” was nice further confirmation that he knows Michonne is his true love.

#2: Richonne’s Picnic Blanket Conversation (9.03)

I almost forgot this scene is a deleted scene because I’ve watched it so much lol. I remember being so glad that there was a dialogue scene filmed on this picnic blanket because I absolutely loved the short snippet we saw of Rick, Michonne, and Judith’s picnic in the actual episode. Once again, it’s great seeing Richonne as parents as they watch Judith and talk about the future. It’s sweet how they hear Judith cough, and Rick is quick to reassure Michonne, and how Michonne is such a mom, saying she’s glad they still checked with the doctor. There’s like an added weight to this to me because at this time, Judith is their only remaining living child, and it’s so important to them that they ensure nothing happens that could cause them to lose her too.

And then I really adore that Rick has the future so on his mind during this Family Fun Day as he tells Michonne he essentially hopes they can have a few more years like this for Judith’s sake and for theirs. I love that it’s another sign that he’s so ready to have a baby with Michonne. It’s a big deal for the characters to be able to think in terms of years now, after initially having to just try to make it to the next day in this apocalypse. And it forever elates me that when Rick thinks of his future, he most wants it to be spent enjoying peace and calm with his favorite two girls and the baby they bring into the world. Ending the scene with Rick taking Michonne’s hand is perfect too, as Richonne + hands is always gold and communicates how loving their partnership is. 

#1: Michonne’s pep talk to Carl (& Rick😋) (7.16)

This is my favorite deleted scene and the one I most feel should have made the cut and been put into the season 7 finale. I’m glad that at least AMC did air an extended version of the s7 finale one time, which included this scene. So that makes it all the more canon in my eyes. The reason I felt this would have been a great scene to have in the episode is because one; it shows the headspace Rick, Carl, and Michonne are in before they take on the Saviors which is important, especially considering they’re three of the show's biggest characters.

Two; It’s one of the few times we get to see the three of them interact together since Richonne became a couple. Three; Carl thinking about what might happen if Rick is put in a position to chop Carl’s arm off again would have made it all the more full circle when Rick really does come seconds away from losing Carl later in the ep when Negan nearly lucilles him before Shiva’s grand entrance. And four; most of all I love how much this scene paints the picture of the wonderful matriach Michonne is in the Grimes family. When Rick wasn’t quite sure how to respond to Carl’s questions, I love how Michonne was able to step in and perfectly address Carl’s concerns. Her winning mentality here is great and so true to who she is. She doesn’t fantasize failure and she believes so strongly in her and her family’s ability to overcome which is evident in her words to Carl.

Hearing her give this rousing speech makes it even more powerful when she’s fighting off that one Heapster later in the episode and trying to say their “We’re the ones who live” motto aloud. It was nice to see Michonne’s words resonate with Carl in this deleted scene, and especially with Rick. 🤭 Because the way that man Rick is riveted looking at Michonne as she speaks life into Carl - it’s such a nice depiction of how much he loves, reveres, and appreciates Michonne’s role in both his and Carl’s life. Her words clearly infuse a lot of confidence in Rick and make him feel ready to take on whatever may come because he's going to take it on with her.

I also love the way both Michonne and Rick kiss Carl in this scene. It was another great Richonne-as-parents moment. And then when Michonne tells Rick lets go get our army, I love Rick’s smitten response to that and the way he then looks over at Carl like he just couldn’t be prouder that Michonne is his wife and a vital member of the Grimes family.😊

[winningmymind]

Part 3 Kevaaron/Andreil based off this aftg au post. Part 1, Part 2

Andrew blankly stares at a yawning Aaron. “Why are you here?”

They're standing in the parking lot. The four of them.

“Night practice.” Aaron tiredly replies, not bothering to mask his yawn. He's lugging an overstuffed backpack full of notebooks and a secondhand laptop.

Immediately, Andrew turns his sharp gaze onto Neil and Kevin, who are pretending to look innocent, idly hanging back a safe distance just in case it all goes south. At least Neil has the guts to look Andrew straight in the face. Kevin just glues his eyes to Aaron's sleepy demeanor.

He offers up his last energy protein bar from his pocket, the one that actually tastes decent, unlike the bland flavors Kevin attempts to urge the Foxes to eat. Aaron absently takes and devours it, unaware or uncaring of Kevin’s tiny prideful smile at the brief grazing of their fingers.

“You two are up to something. Don't like it.” Andrew clocks the strikers in a heartbeat, but doesn't press any further. Not now. He stalks off to the car and the rest of them obediently follow.

In the bleachers, Andrew and Aaron take a seat while Neil and Kevin run through drills. Andrew would usually take a nap or watch the Exy junkies with a bored expression until it was time to go. This time his attention is solely on Aaron, who's sitting a few spaces to the left of him reviewing notes. 

Aaron isn't sparing a single glance at his brother, although he can feel Andrew's demanding stare that they should talk to each other. He's always doing that when Aaron's in the middle of studying nowadays. Another non-verbal cue Bee suggested Andrew do to get Aaron’s attention, a softer way of expressing want instead of his usual rough edges. It both irritates and pleases Aaron.

“What?” Aaron gives in and angles his head to the side.

“You're at night practice, but you aren't practicing.”

“Could say the same for you.”

“I'm the driver. Your excuse?”

“Ask them for the details.” Aaron points at Neil and Kevin running across the court like madmen and then returns his focus on studying.

Andrew doesn’t need to be told twice and stands up, scaling down the bleachers. The sudden movement startles Aaron for a moment, and he watches his twin march like he’s on a mission. Kevin and Neil notice from their peripheral, jogging up to meet Andrew halfway.

“Finally come to join us?” Kevin’s too pumped from adrenaline to remember how foolish that sounds.

“Silence.” Andrew presses a finger to his lips, shaking his head at Kevin's frown. He turns to Neil next, locking eyes with him. “I've warned you once. Don't make me say it again.”

“We haven't even done anything.” Neil wipes the sweat from his brow, lying through his teeth. He didn't think Andrew would catch on so soon.

Kevin nods in agreement, feigning ignorance. “Andrew, you're interrupting training. Either gear up and play or standby.”

“You aren't fooling me.” Andrew tells them, slightly tilting his head in his twin's direction, who shouldn't be here at all. “You two don't talk to what's mine unless I say so. And I never gave permission.”

It's true. On the court and during Wymack's mandated practices, Kevin and Neil are only allowed to talk directly to Aaron in a team setting, or if Nicky’s present, never ever alone. Reason being is that they're not exactly subtle. Every one of the Foxes knows Kevin and Neil have the hots for Aaron and Andrew. Except for, maybe, Aaron. 

He's somehow both bright and dense and completely untrained in realizing someone wants him if not explicitly told. A fact that amazes/annoys Andrew and tickles Nicky silly.

Aaron never picks up on Kevin's favoritism. Nicky's been Aaron's only exposure to guys flirting and coupling up, and since Kevin isn't nearly as flashy or intense or bold, Aaron remains clueless. 

Andrew, however, was able to pinpoint Neil's exact fascination toward him from the special treatment he keeps receiving. Neil always comes to Andrew seeking genuine conversations, not the standard small talk he does with the rest of their teammates, and constantly looks elated whenever he discovers anything new about Andrew like a pirate getting lost treasure.

This day was bound to happen. Andrew just lying in wait, preparing for when the Exy junkies would want more than a runner's high as their fix. Whatever they’re planning, it would get them nowhere in the Minyard twins’ pants, Andrew would make sure of it.

“We didn't abduct Aaron. If that's what you're thinking. He came on his own free will.” Kevin says.

Andrew isn't impressed. “Playing dumb still? You will regret it.”

“Too late for that. Aaron's going to tag along until finals.” Neil shrugs.

Andrew quirks a brow at that. “Exy or exams?”

“Both… I think?”

“You're a dead man walking.” Andrew’s eyes light up dangerously. Neil doesn’t fold.

“Eh, heard it before.” Then Neil’s voice takes on a teasing lilt. “Plus, you wouldn’t want to get rid of me too fast. Not when Aaron and I cut a deal where I look over his math? You know how sensitive he is about his grades.”

Andrew clenches his fists and spins on his heel, leaving Neil and Kevin to return to the bleachers, less he slice them up with his many hidden knives should their conversation continue. Neil and Kevin can practically see the murderous mood he's in. In the time that they were talking, Aaron had made his backpack a pillow and fallen asleep, the protein bar not enough to keep him awake. Andrew sits closer to Aaron's outstretched form like a guard dog, staring daggers in Neil and Kevin's direction.

“Could've gone worse. I'd count this as a success.” Neil’s satisfied.

“Remind me. How is this a success again?” Kevin huffs.

Neil looks at Kevin with wide eyes, like Kevin should be able to read his thoughts and simply get it. That makes Kevin scowl deeply at him and Neil sighs.

“I made a loophole to speak to Aaron without consequences and Andrew cares too much about Aaron to fuck that up, meaning I’ve postponed my death by his hands so far.” Neil explains and then he pokes Kevin in the chest. “Now, it’s up to you to find a way to bypass Andrew’s Don’t-Talk-To-My-Twin rule for us to really woo them.”

“How do I do that?”

“Common ground.”

“Like what?”

“Two words.” Neil holds up two fingers. “Medical history.”

And the intangible light bulb floating above Kevin’s head cuts on, shining brightly like his eyes as Neil's genius comes into fruition. There’s a plethora of documentaries about medicine, doctoring, and diseases that Kevin knows will pique Aaron’s interest for a marathon on a Saturday afternoon or Sunday morning when they’re visiting Columbia. He could get Aaron to laze about with him on the couch for hours, bonding maybe, make it a routine, make it their thing even.

Kevin Day has never been so ecstatic that his and Aaron’s majors smoothly overlap for this to be considered possible.

"I'll distract Andrew. You handle Aaron."

They clack rackets and then get back to night practice drills. 

tagging @icangotwiceashigh @little2nerdy @luadusk @a-had-matter @aceadoxography @emilibs

[darklydeliciousdesires]

A Storm of Stars - Chapter Sixteen.

Summary: The Targaryen twin stars. Two sides of the same coin. Aemond and Aemella Targaryen, second children of King Viserys I and his queen, Alicent Hightower, had spent their entire lives almost as one, the lines blurring where one twin ended and the other began. What started as an inseparable sibling bond eventually bloomed into a deep, limitless love.

A day would come, though, when their love story - famed for generations to come - would be tested by the one who sought to tear them apart. When the storm of stars descended, nobody who had wronged them would come away unscathed. 

Words - 3,385

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added.

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Incest, mentions of child loss through miscarriage. Minors DNI.

Previous Chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen

“Aemond, come and sit,” Otto advised, stifling a yawn. “You are wearing a trench into the floor.” 

It killed him, hearing the screams, fury and fear from his wife coming from the next room within their quarters, unable to go to her. She needed him, yet it was not a man’s place to be present as his wife toiled through her labours, the king finally sitting upon the adjacent couch to his grandsire, pouring out a measure of rum and sinking it.  

“And you will be steady with that,” he then added, nodding to the bottle. 

“As my Hand, I quite expect you to put forth good reasoning when I am required to give it attention. Now is not one of those moments,” the king spoke, pouring another.  

“Aemond, I speak to you now not as your Hand, but as your grandsire.” Yanking the bottle from his grasp, he placed it down at his feet, pointing sternly to the beaker he held. “Sip it! Having you in here drunk as a lord will do nobody any merit.” 

He sighed; his shoulders tight. “It might serve to help me feel marginally less useless.”  

Otto smiled thinly, remembering his own anguish at not being able to be there for his wife during the same. How he still mourned his darling Alyrie, even years on from her passing. “It is simply not our place, grandson. I do however realise that it must be even harder for you, with the exceptional nature of your relationship.”  

What he alluded to of course, was not lost on Aemond. “I feel every ounce of her distress. Hence why I was trying at least to numb it with a little rum.” His eye then fixed upon Otto. “Was.” 

“I remain resolute, Aemond.” Oh, what a formidable barrier his grandsire was in placing himself between the only source of fortification he sought, another scream ripping through the air, Aemond wincing. “Do you feel it literally as a pain within, what Aemella experiences?” 

“Not as such,” he began, sipping from the beaker in his grasp. “Tis’ very uncomfortable all the same. I cannot explain it in a way you would understand. Nobody does, except for her.”  

Just then, the door opening disturbed the quiet of their room, Aemond out of his seat in a flash. 

“I am returning to my quarters to rest,” Alicent spoke, reaching for her son’s arms as she leaned to kiss his cheek. “Gileda is with her.” 

“How is she?” he asked, Alicent stroking his cheek, seeing the weight of it bearing down upon him very clearly. 

“She fares much better than she considers, but these things can of course take great time. Grand Maester Orwyle assures us that all is progressing as it should, although she is not yet close to the active stage of birthing. Try and get a little sleep, perhaps return to your former quarters and rest?” 

“I am going nowhere.” he scoffed, his pacing beginning once more. Alicent shared a look with her father, Otto silently conveying that he would look after him before she took her leave.  

Aemond's resolve to remain steadfast in the face of his wife's suffering was a testament to the depth of his love and the strength of his character. Although he did falter at times. Especially when his queen began to call out for him specifically. 

“No, no. Come on back.” Otto spoke, grasping his shoulders and steering him to the couch once more. “She will be fine, I promise you this.” Truly, he had no foresight to know it was a promise he could keep, but what could he do? His grandson was having a very natural reaction to hearing the love of his life in such distress. A little placation was needed.  

As the hours dragged on, the flickering candlelight casting the room in an amber glow, his mind raced with unspoken fears and fervent hopes. Otto's presence, though a source of frustration, was also a comfort, a bulwark against the tide of helplessness that threatened to overwhelm him.  

If only he was not guarding the rum so steadfastly. 

Each scream that pierced the air was a dagger to his heart, yet he clung to the knowledge that Aemella was a force of unwavering strength in her own right to endure something that seemed nothing short of horrific. Even if it did sound like she was not coping well with such. 

The night seemed interminable, but within the walls of his quarters, a quiet determination took root. Aemond's thoughts drifted to the future, to the moment when he would finally hold his child, a tangible symbol of their love and their legacy. His heir. Even if the first child was a daughter, he would break with tradition, he had decided, and name her his successor. There would be no quarrels the likes of which had split the realm from his fraction of house Targaryen. 

With every measured sip of rum, every word of reassurance from his grandsire, he fortified himself against the tumultuous tide of his emotions, finding strength in the solidarity of his family and the unyielding bond he shared with his beloved twin.  

The morning broke, and with it no arrival of their babe, Gileda and Alicent once again switching places, the former coming to him. 

“Your grace,” she spoke, bowing. “The queen is well, tired now she is nearing active birth, but well.”  

The scream that suddenly filled the air sank heavy against his chest, Aemond closing his eye, pointing in the direction she had come. “Your words fill me with reassurance, Gileda. That, however, does not.” 

“Tis’ a painful thing, your grace. The queen battles on wonderfully, though. It should not be too much longer now before the little one is here with us. I will take my leave.” 

His hand then suddenly reached for hers, preventing her departure. “I appreciate you highly, Gileda. For staying with her.”  

It was a fondness she had not expected from the stoic king, one who rarely showed his emotions at all. “Always, your grace.” she nodded, leaving him be.  

Morning ran into afternoon, Aemond brought parchments to sign, meeting with Lord Jasper, discussing a few of the issues faced where monetary expenditures were concerned, the busyness of presiding over a realm only giving him temporary respite from his endless wait. His heart ached for Aemella, that she did not have the same luxury offered unto her.  

As time stretched on, and the shadows began to lengthen once more as a second evening fell, Aemond's resolve grew ever more determined. His mind became a battleground of despair and hope, each thought a fervent prayer for Aemella's safe delivery of their babe. He found himself lingering by the door, as if his closer presence alone could somehow ease her suffering, the rhythmic pacing a testament to his inner turmoil. 

The knowledge that the culmination of their love was so close, yet so fraught with peril, weighed heavily upon him. He could hear the muffled voices of the Maester and his team encouraging her through the birthing, the occasional reassuring murmur from his mother, yet each scream began to echo louder, resonating within the very core of his being.  

The castle seemed to hold its breath, as if the walls themselves were witnessing the poignant struggle within. With his grandsire snoozing upon the couch, he helped himself to another rum, placing the bottle down quietly. Not quietly enough. 

An eye cracked opened. “You are a guileful boy.” 

Aemond couldn’t help but laugh softly through his nose, seeing his grandsire’s wry smile widen his mouth. “I get that from you.” 

Suddenly, the opening of the door gave them both a start, Otto straightening, Aemond turning to be greeted by the Grand Maester. 

“Your grace,” he bowed. Gods, the man looked tired, staying awake right through this whole process to in order to be present for the queen. “The labours progress well, but her grace is exhausted by it. She makes valiant efforts in her pushes, but the babe is still not yet with us because of her weariness. I feel it will be a time yet.” 

Or not, if Aemond had anything to do with it. “Fuck it.” he spat, sinking the rum and slamming the beaker to the table, making a start for the door.  

“Your grace, you must not, please I have to insist that you...” Orwyle began as Aemond stormed through to the bedchamber, receiving the same polite discouragement once he arrived. To see his wife turn to him, her exhausted, tear-streaked visage brightening in an instant spoke louder than anyone attempting to force him out of the room once more.  

“Your grace, this is unprecedented, and I must...” 

“You will deliver my child, Grand Maester, and I shall be here supporting the queen while you do it.” He then climbed onto the bed, moving a few of the pillows, slotting himself down and wrapping his wife in a tight embrace.  

“Look at me, precious one,” he began, his fingers weaving with hers, Aemella turning her head as she leaned into his chest. “You are my love, my twin star and my entire world. You are the strongest, most formidable force I have ever known, and your strength will see you through this. You can do it, Mella, and I will be right here with you as you do, laws and traditions be fucking damned.”  

With the renewed bolstering of her beloved right there behind her, she dug deep into the very depths of herself, summoning a strength as yet untouched, pushing with all her might as she hung onto Aemond’s hands. It took time, but not as much as she wagered it would have without him right there behind her, the Red Keep at last filled with the cries of their newborn child. 

“A son, your graces!” Orwyle announced, holding the baby aloft, taking clean linens to immediately wipe him down before placing him on his mother’s chest. “My warmest congratulations to you both.”  

Aemella sobbed with joy as she looked down upon him, her beautiful son, finally there, screaming his tiny lungs out.  

“See?” Aemond spoke, kissing her cheek, his fingertip moving to lovingly stroke his son’s head. “I told you; you could do it, and now he is here at long last.” 

Turning to him, she pressed her lips to his, her heart bursting to see him shed tears of happiness, stroking his face lovingly before she leaned to press a kiss upon their son's head. “Look at you, little boy,” she spoke with emotion, “you are perfect!”  

They were given a few moments pause to bask in their new unity as a family, the baby then taken by the Maester to be checked over and cleaned properly, Aemella passing the afterbirth before she was washed, stitched where needed, changed into a fresh nightdress and made comfortable upon a clean bed.  

The baby took a feed, the nursemaid Ceira there to help bring his wind up thereafter, an extremely tired Aemella fighting against her urge to sleep as she watched from the bed. Her eyelids grew ever heavier, Aemond insisting he hold his son once he’d had brought up his wind, Ceira passing the child into his father’s arms.  

“Love, go to sleep,” he spoke, smiling fondly, holding their babe securely against his chest. “Between Ceira and I, we shall look after the boy while you rest. You have earned it.” 

“Hmm,” she hummed, still fighting it, Aemond watching until she finally dozed off, leaning to kiss her head.  

“That will be all for the moment, Ceira,” he spoke, “I wish to spend a little time with my family alone.”  

“I shall return later, your grace.” the elder woman spoke, exiting his quarters. 

Walking towards the room he had paced endlessly in the time preceding, he reached to open the door, entering to the expectant faces of his mother and grandsire. 

“I have somebody who would like to meet his grandmother and great grandsire,” he spoke, the pair moving to flank him, both looking down at the child with eyes that shone with affection. “This is prince Aeryn.” 

“Oh, there has not been an Aeryn in the family for quite some time. A wonderful choice,” Alicent spoke, holding out her arms. “May I?”  

Passing him over, Aemond couldn’t keep the proud smile from his face, watching his mother gently bounce her grandson in her arms. “Hello, my little love, hello. You are such a beautiful little babe, yes!” 

Otto opened his arms, embracing Aemond warmly. “My congratulations to you, grandson.” 

Aemond nodded in acceptance, gesturing towards the table. “Will you allow me another rum now?”  

His grandsire’s laughter filled the space, clapping him on the shoulder heartily. “I do not see why not. Tis’ customary to wet the babe’s head, after all.”  

“I think I require it, for I now understand firsthand why it is we men are kept away during labours,” he spoke, his eye widening. 

“A rule you so unceremoniously flouted,” Alicent chirped, tearing her eyes away from the babe for a moment. Aemond merely sniffed, unbothered. 

Pouring out two measures of rum, Otto passed the beaker to him, both toasting to the child’s health. “Was it truly a terrible thing to witness?” 

Screaming. Blood. So much blood. “When people claim it to be beautiful, they lie,” he began, his eye still wide, lips thinning. “Tis’ beautiful when they have arrived, but the preceding part? Seven hells, no. And I was only present for the end.” 

Otto could imagine if he tried, but did not wish to, merely smiling as he stiffened to prevent the internal shudder. “And how is Aemella?” 

“Sleeping, thankfully. The poor woman is thoroughly exhausted.” That sleep stretched on, too, Aemella awaking to the most heartwarming sight. There beside her upon the bed lay her husband, bare to the waist, their son sleeping contentedly on his chest. 

“I am informed by Ceira that this is beneficial to the bonding process, skin on skin contact. He did a shit on me, though, so the nappy has made a reappearance.” 

Laughing all she was able through her soreness, Aemella reached to stroke his face, her hand then gently cradling Aeryn’s tiny head. “And did you place the nappy on him yourself?”  

His sour expression again evoked her laughter. “The seven hells, I did,” he grunted, lip curling a smidgen. “That is an expertise beyond my means.” 

“Or rather, you pledge not concern yourself with shitty nappies and swaddling rags?” she teased. 

“I would rather not concern myself with the fact he soiled on my fucking chest, yet here we are,” he hummed, smiling widely, turning his head to press a kiss against her shoulder. “You should have witnessed mother holding him. She was instantly in her element. I feel that the palpable frostiness she has shown toward you since my coronation might finally be at its thaw.”  

Propping herself up a little more, Aemella reached to stroke Aeryn’s hand, marvelling at him. There he was, at last. “I think that beneath it all, she knows. I just hope that in time she forgives me, that she realises my actions served the good of so much more apart from you and me. Aegon was a liability that had to be eradicated for the good of the realm. But let us not linger upon such talk. This is Aeryn’s day.” 

“And he is content to sleep through most of it.” As if acting like a siren, the boy began to snuffle, making little gasps of displeasure that preceded the howling. “I think he may be hungry.”  

Aemella opened her arms. “This is where mummy comes in.” 

“Are you resigned to feeding him yourself,” he began, carefully placing the babe into her arms, “or will you call upon a wetnurse?”  

Again, it was quite standard within noble houses, for such a woman to take on the feeding instead of the mother herself. “I am undecided. Before his birth, I did consult mother about it, Ceira as well. Apparently, when we were born, we fed both from mother and our wetnurse equally, but Ceira warned me that they can become fussy and decide to favour one over the other.”  

“It would leave you with much more time to sleep if you did, but I will leave the ultimate choice to you, love.” he spoke, his fingertip idly stroking his son’s tiny foot as he watched him latch on and take his feed. It was a beautiful sight, seeing his love and their newborn bonding, Aemella smiling down at the babe in a way he’d never witnessed before.  

As Aeryn continued to feed, Aemond's heart swelled with an emotion that felt brand new, a strange experience as he had thought until that moment, his wife had already stirred all he was capable of feeling. His usual stoicism gave way to a profound tenderness, his heart flooded with serenity.  

He marvelled at the simple, lovely domesticity of the moment, feeling a newfound respect for Aemella's strength and resilience. The gentle snuffling of their son and the soft murmurs of his wife created a cocoon of peace around him, momentarily shielding him from the responsibilities and burdens of his station.  

“Would you like many more in the future?” he questioned, her immediate snort amusing him. 

“Ask me when I have forgotten how painful it was!” she scoffed, her elegant fingertip stroking the soft, chubby cheek of her son. “Although amazingly, I did not need to be stitched more than twice, which the Grand Maester said is a rarity. I stretched sufficiently, it appears.” 

“Well, you’re used to it.” His eyes flitted to his crotch, then back at her with a roguish grin. “You’re welcome.” 

She began to shake with laughter, narrowing her eyes. “People would not believe me if I told them of how playfully humorous you can be. And filthy.” 

“I wouldn’t want them to,” he sniffed, “who I am in private is not the man anybody else should expect to see.” Stretching, he tried to stifle a yawn, failing miserably, removing his eye patch to rub beneath.  

“Did you sleep at all during my labours?” she asked. 

“Here and there.” 

She was unconvinced, her raised eyebrow showing it. “Aemond.” 

“Not one fucking moment, no. I was too preoccupied with panicking, or as grandsire worded it, wearing a trench into the floor,” he finally confessed with candour. “I might doze a little now, if you do not mind?” 

Leaning to him, she kissed his forehead. “Of course not, my love. I shall send for Ceira once more, ask her to help me with this little piglet.” A soft call alerted Ser Eddard, who dutifully located the nursemaid, bringing her back to their quarters. 

Aemond was snoring softly before she’d even stepped foot in the door, taking the babe from his mother and moving through to quarters to the child’s nursery, a room located just off from their bedchamber.  

“If you wish to go and curl up with his grace, I shall arrange for the wetnurse to be on hand for his feeds throughout the night. I expect he will awake at least twice more from hunger.” There were two beds within the nursery bedchamber, one for Ceira and the other ready if she did so choose the wetnurse to attend over the evening.  

The mother in her wished to solely be the one to nurse her treasured son, but the tired young woman beneath that somewhat overrode it. Gods, she could sleep for a week, she felt. “I think for tonight, I wish to sleep, Ceira.” 

Bending to the cradle, she kissed her son before leaving him in the capable hands of the nursemaid, returning to carefully pull Aemond from his britches and throw the covers over him. Climbing into bed slowly, she winced, her poor womanhood so very sore, pulling the blankets over them as she draped an arm over his waist, stuffing her face into the pillows. 

The king and queen slept very, very soundly that night. Their son, however, did not. Luckily, though, between Ceira and Lula, the wetnurse who crept in as the royals slept, the little prince was very well cared for while his exhausted mummy and daddy remained in deep slumber.  

A/N - Now, did you enjoy what you just read? Please remember, this is not Instagram. Clicking that heart does little, but a comment? Your author will be rewarded. A comment and reblog? Your author is throwing roses at your feet! It takes less time to do this than it did for you to read the chapter, too. Please, be kind and help support the fandom! :) 

[ellesthots]

a thank you note 💌

i want to make a post specifically to my readers and the people who have commented, reblogged, dm'd, sent asks, or otherwise supported me while navigating such severe, manipulative harassment the past week: thank you!

by far, the worst part of this experience has been the victim-blaming. it's so specifically evil and cruel, and traps you. there is no right way to be a victim—no matter how you move, respond, or behave, it will always be wrong. it is so powerful and healing to be believed, which is why being blamed for your own suffering is so insidious. it compounds it. not only do you have to endure harassment and abuse, that's hard enough, but now everyone is insisting it's your fault/you did it to yourself/you're faking it, for all to see. tracking you, trying to poke holes in any way you advocate for yourself: effectively silencing you, intimidating you.

if you keep track of it all? calculated. you don't? it didn't happen. you stand up for yourself? attention-seeking. you keep quiet? you're lying. respond tactfully? saving face. respond with righteous anger, frustration and hurt at being abused? overly emotional and unhinged, therefore unreliable and lying. continue this logic down every last path, because there is no right way to be a victim. it's so fucking isolating and painful. being discredited in every feasible way left me trapped, and needing to rely on people believing me and seeing the pattern in this. which is so fucking vulnerable and scary when facing a smear campaign.

so i want to thank you all for believing me, and standing by me. it means more than any words can express. it is life-saving, life-giving, and so, so needed. and all of that is an understatement. i want to thank you over and over, profusely. it has meant the absolute entire world.

the harassment and victim-blaming has been incessant and traumatic, and for a few days i was worried i wouldn't be able to get back into writing, that it had become too tainted, that these stalkers would constantly monitor me and not let me breathe. i'm literally getting choked up writing this right now, ahhhh !! this entire experience has been so triggering. but seeing and receiving all of your kindness and trust has been the salve i needed. it helped me remember that it's okay and so healing for me to advocate for myself, and taking back the power of my own voice; not limiting my expression and walking on eggshells because of some loser trolls and what they might do. i'm allowed to exist, i'm allowed to speak out, i'm allowed to be hurt by this, and i'm allowed to express that hurt as i feel it. i don't need to be a perfect victim because that's an impossible standard that only aims to oppress. i hope this is a reminder to y'all too if you have ever been in this situation where you've been harassed and abused and not believed, and silenced. you're allowed to have feelings and express them in whichever way is cathartic. you're not overdramatic or 'giving them more ammo'. you're existing in and navigating an impossible circumstance. it's disgusting that people don't believe you, but it's not your job to change their minds. if they're the type of people who want to victim-blame, you won't be able to change their minds, and shouldn't have to bear that weight.

i love you all dearly. i know all of your usernames and every time i get a notif that you liked a post, or commented, or asked, or messaged, i'm so excited. it's been devastating the way many of you have been dragged into this and threatened, just for being here, just for supporting me. so i want to fully acknowledge that, and thank you for persevering with me. let me know if there's anything you need from me, and feel free to dm me if you want to talk about it/how it impacted you! i'm here! and as much as is in my power, i want to create safety here for all of us.

i love this space we've created, i love fandom, and i will keep writing. in fact, i've been plotting and writing the next chapters of code of ethics and fateful as we speak !! thank you for being here, and i'm excited to get back to regularly-scheduled programming!! have a few asks about my fics i'll get to now/soon 💖 thank you for reading this, too! thrilled to brush the dirt off my knees and get back to BRUCIEEEE 😍🦇

[ysaefinn]

mommy!sugu but he’s evil.. i’m talking forcing you to sit on his lap, incessantly, after a rough spanking sesh. bouncing you on his thigh while you’re almost completely bare. your raw, red ass stinging due to the skin on skin contact. he only does it because he knows you’ll whine a bit and sling your arms tightly around his shoulders. maybe if he’s lucky, you’ll hide your face in his neck and he’ll be able to sneak a whiff of your shampoo.

-🍎

Tw: infantilization, mommy kink, spankings, humiliation (or maybe you have no shame LMAO), consensual punishment, mdni :]

No this is so mean o(｡•́︿•̀｡)o <- what i would say if i hadn't reached the point of no return

ROUGH MEAN MOMMY!SUGU PUNISHMENT oh boy oh boy, I KNOW YOU SAID EVIL AS IN YOU WANT HIM TO BE LIKE THIS UNAPOLOGETICALLY and I WILL INDULGE YOU but I'm still gonna say that this happens for reasons!!!!!

We've talked about this before, he's mean as hell when you hurt yourself and refuse to listen, effectively proving to him that the only way to get you to behave is through tough love.

If you remember my answer to an ask yesterday, i said that Suguru sees giving you exactly what you need no matter how hard it hurts him as nurturing, and that includes discipline, bcuz ultimately he just wants what's good for you. And if it's a big mean hand coming down on your cheeks till the flesh gets all red and tender then so be it, you're getting that spanking <//3

I'm really really really weak for mommy!Suguru talking you through your punishments (tmi: the cat's throbbing) he really does believe that you can't handle him being too mean and you can't, trust me lmao. But if you somehow manage to trigger his wrath, the sweet warm coos and reassurances that it'll all be over and you'll be in mommy's arms soon turn into cold dismissive responses, telling you that you did this to yourself, that he has no problem bending you over his lap if it's what it takes to keep you in line, that you have no one to blame but yourself, he doesn't even rub the flesh when it gets too warm :( Instead he pinches the plump cheeks <- MEAAANNN MEAN MEAN MEAN AND EVIL!!!!!!

Edit: oh and he makes you count each spanking <3

And no, you don't get to suck on his fingers after, That's supposed to soothe you, and disobedient babies don't get to be comforted after earning the pain. Instead, you're made to sit on his lap, soft sore tender flesh pressed against rock-hard thighs, a rough spanking is already sure to keep you unable to sit for a long time. Then he starts to bounce you...and you're probably gonna start to leak. Listen, its stimulation, something you don't get every day (seriously), and paired with being in nothing but a pair of stockings (<- he loves putting u in stockings) and possibly a shirt if you're lucky, you are gonna be tempted to ride his thigh, and you should!!! You should if you feel like your ass wasn't spanked raw enough!!! Seriously don't piss mommy off when he's trying to teach you lessons...

You're gonna cry and whine and beg him to stop but he won't, bcuz again, it's what you need, and you're being nurtured, you're being cared for, and he expects you to be grateful and promise to be good from now on. Suguru LOVES you, and if you neglect yourself and refuse his care, he WILL remind you of your place, just gonna have to drill it into your thick stubborn skull , one red ass at a time <33

[alcalystrasz]

Eleven's ring is very much into the topic in the moment and I want to talk about it a little bit with a total neutral perspective. Keep in mind that this ring has not been mentioned anywhere. It wasn't mentioned in the show, or by the Duffers on any media. We, as for now, don't know where this ring comes from and we can only speculate about it. (Links of the websites I did my researches on are in blue).

So, in S4 we discover that Eleven has now a ring on her right hand, and specifically on her index finger. So we know how the creators, including the costume designers and the people in charge of the decor and all, do things on purpose and place certain elements on certain spots...

The ring El has, is golden colored and it seems to have a small little diamond on top of it. Mileven shippers say it is a "promise ring". So, a promise ring is a ring given from one partner to another in a romantic relationship to signify commitment. It's given from one partner as a token of their fidelity, and in turn worn by the other to show that the commitment is mutual (theknot). So if Eleven do, in fact, wear a promise ring, it means that Mike gave it to her as a sign of his love and total fidelity towards her, and as a response, El agreed to wore it to signify that his love and fidelity is mutual, she shares his feelings.

Promise rings are mostly given during Valentine's Day or for a birthday, or even a holiday. Remember in S3, Mike tells El that he could come for Thanksgiving, as his mother agreed, and that she could eventually come for Christmas. So he goes to Lenora for Thanksgiving and she goes to Hawkins for Christmas. Both are holidays, and he could've technically give her this promise ring on any of those two days. Mike couldn't have been able to give it to her for her birthday, since she's born on June 7th, but he could've for Thanksgiving, Valentine's Day or Christmas.

Now, S4 is settled in March, on the 21st of March to be precise. So the three days are possibilities. Although I don't think Mike went to California to see El for Valentine's Day since he would come in March (and lovers day is in February), so he wouldn't have been able to give it to her on person this day. Maybe he sent it by letters, it could be, but it would be less romantic if the two don't see each other while sharing it. So only 2 possibilities are left. Neither of those 2 holidays were mentioned by Mike or El, or any other characters in the show, so we don't really know if what they said in S3 happened. But we can think it did because it was said, so technically, logically, if it was said they'd meet, they did. But we don't have actual proofs that Mike gave her this ring on one of those 2 holidays.

S3 is settled in the end of June/beginning of July (since we see the USA independence day happen in the show, which is July 4th). So, both Thanksgiving and Christmas are very far holidays from July, they are separated by 5/6 months. Now, we don't know if they actually did move for the 2 holidays, neither do we know if it is indeed a promise ring Mike gave El, but let's go over the facts:

– The Byers don't have much money, we see they don't have a big suburban house like the Wheelers, they lived in a small house in the middle of the forest. Joyce wouldn't even have enough money to buy her son a Ghostbusters costume, she sewed it. So, in order for them to have enough money to pay 4 plane tickets to go to Hawkins and go back to Lenora would already be quite expensive. So, you'll tell me "They sold their house in Hawkins, and we see they have quite a nice house in Lenora." True, but Jonathan's car has not been repaired since it was broken, probably when they arrived there. Plus, they live in California, in a desert, so the houses there are not very pricey. So, it means they don't have enough money to pay for someone to repair it. Meaning, they don't have money for plane tickets, even the cheapest.

– Although the Wheelers do have lot of money, Mike wasn't able to buy a good gift for El in S3 because he only had $5 on him. With only 5 bucks you can't do quite much, the teddy bear he wanted to buy El was 300 dollars. Far from his budget. So, I don't think Mike had enough money for himself to buy her a promise ring, knowing that most of the promise rings start at the cost of $199 (real ones). Mike could've buy a cheap one, but... a cheap one for his girlfriend? Really? After she lost Hopper and she moved out of California? No.

– Promise rings usually are worn on the ring finger, on the left hand. But remember El wears it on the index finger on the right hand.

So, could it be a promise ring? Maybe. It is not 100% sure like it isn't 0%. So it could be one.

But let's move to another theory. In some cultures, a ring on the right index finger symbolizes marriage (for Jewish marriages. Typically, a plain gold band goes on the index finger of the right hand). It is believed that the right index finger is closest to the heart (Fromtheangels + lovetoknow).

So, traditionally, it is used by Jewish people for marriage. However, the Wheelers are not Jewish. But in modern days, the meaning of a ring placed on the index is different.

Wearing a ring on the index finger symbolizes ambition, confidence and leadership. This finger is linked to Jupiter in astrology, ruling all over, which is why we use the index finger to point the way. It has been tradionally thought that wearing a ring on this finger is symbolic to strength, power and authority. Additionally, because the right hand's index finger is associated with Jupiter and indicates masculine energy - regardless of gender - wearing a ring here could represent ambition and increased influence (wikihow + hoospeak).

Now we have a bit more information. This placement has a lot of symbolic, it could mean anything. And because of the fact that is a simple ring placed on the index finger we can speculate about it:

– Joyce gave it to Eleven as a gift, so she can feel more confident and stronger about being herself, and also being a woman. We know that Joyce, just like Nancy, face the fact of being a woman in the 80s society. Whenever things are going on, Nancy and Joyce are on the front no matter what, Joyce is ready to do anything she can to help her boys. In S4, she calls her boss "prick" while Eleven's voice over the scene says "she likes the freedom" (talking about her new job). And Nancy had struggles about it in S3 because of her job at Hawkins' Post. Both face the complexity of being a woman in that period of time and break the stereotype of "women's place" by holding guns and fighting demons trying to destroy their town.

– Will/Jonathan gave it to her. It wouldn't be surprising if this ring wasn't given by Joyce or Nancy, but by another family member such as Will or Jonathan. They know what it's like to be different, Jonathan faced bullying and being called weird all the time and so did Will (by also adding the fact that he's gay, very stigmatized in that time). So to show her she's not so different, they offered her a ring that symbolizes strength and confidence so she can feel more at home. Overall, any of the Byers could've given Eleven this ring, at Christmas also, who knows.

So, to conclude. It could be a promise ring, just like it could be a gift from anyone than Mike. We, as off this day, still don't know what this ring is about, and I personally don't think it is a very important piece of element, but I think it is more of a sort of easter egg about the fact that she's got a new life at Lenora. It could have more symbolics, probably, but we don't know that for sure, so until then, let's not focus on one piece of element that we don't have anything about, and focus on the other stuff we could speculate about the show.

[slytherinsimp12]

⋆˚✿˖°𝑴𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒕 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒕⋆˚✿˖°

Pairing : Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary : The stress of your final year at Hogwarts was getting to you, with NEWTs coming closer, you were an absolute mess. You were avoiding everyone, especially him.

“Meet me at our spot?” Remus asked one afternoon, obviously you couldn’t say no. The stress of exams lead you to confess something you never thought you would.

Warnings: Fluff and Mild language.

Author’s note: Hey cuties, this story/fic has no specific gender for the reader , so I’m just gonna tag it ‘x reader’. I wrote this as a way to cope with my own exam stress 😔( instead of studying ofc). Happy reading xx.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“The essay on ‘The Draught Of The Living Death’ is due this week, remember -16 inches of parchment! Class dismissed.” Professor Slughorn’s announcement met with disappointed sighs from the students. Great, you thought to yourself. One more bloody thing to add to your to do list. You ran your fingers through your hair, coating them in grease. Oh god. How long had it been since you washed your hair? You didn’t even look in the mirror anymore, infact you were pretty sure you weren’t even wearing the whole uniform. They weren’t joking about NEWTs (nastily exhausting wizarding test) , it earned its name. But it’s fine, studying is good. Studying is better than thinking about him. You forced yourself off the desk and tried not to collapse on the floor due to exhaustion.

“You look like hell.” Remus said, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Gee thanks, Moony. Always knew how to make a girl feel good about herself.” You replied, sarcastically.

You and Remus made your way to the great hall for lunch, and joined the rest of your friend group.

“Merlin…. What happened to you, y/n?” Sirius asked.

“What is it with everyone today?! Am I the only one who’s not able to keep up with all the work the professors are throwing our way?!” You snapped.

“Well, we do have our NEWTs this year-“

James said, getting cut off by Lily.

“Oh leave her alone! I’m just as exhausted as you, y/n. Honestly , I’m hanging on by a thread.”

The lot of you finished your lunch in silence, exam season was really getting to everyone.

You made your way to the library, not lifting your gaze from the book in your hand, when you bumped into a tall figure.

“Bloody hell, you’re really loosing it, aren’t you?” Remus joked.

“Yea. How aren’t you?” You asked, but you already knew the answer. Remus Lupin ,the smartest student in your year. He never got anything less than an ‘O’ in all his exams, yet he always remained calm and collected. You wanted to ask him how he did it, but you didn’t want to sound like you were praising him or anything. Ew. You guys didn’t do all that sappy bullshit.

“Eh, you know me.” He said, casually.

“I’m worried about you, love. You seem so stressed. Meet me at our spot? After classes? It’s been a while since we’ve had one our ‘chats’. “ He said, giving you that warm Remus Lupin smile that always made you melt. Ugh. Get your shit together, y/n.

“Um. Yea. Okay. I’ll see you there.” You smiled and walked away.

After an unbearably long time, classes had finally finished for the day. You remembered your promise to Remus, dropped your things off in your dorm, and made your way to the Whomping Willow. It had been ‘your spot’ since third year, when you found out about Moony’s furry little problem. You saw Madam Pomfery guiding him to that eldritch tree one night, curiosity took over and you decided to investigate. Remus wasn’t thrilled when you confronted him, but he grew fond of talking to you about things he couldn’t talk to others, not even the marauders. They knew about him being a werewolf, but they didn’t understand or listen to him like you did. So, atleast once a week, you and Remus found yourselves sitting under the Whomping Willow and emptying out the greatest sorrows of your hearts. You laughed and laughed for hours, till neither of you even understood why you were sad in the first place. Remus had this effect on you, he made you feel seen. Not that no one else saw you, but seen in a way no one else had before. Seen and heard. You didn’t want to admit it, but Merlin…. The things you would do for Moony.

The weather was pleasant in an odd way. It wasn’t too sunny nor was it gloomy, it was a perfect mix of clouds and slight wind.

“Y/n!” Remus waved at you, as he laid down under the tree. There was a knot in the tree he would press with the help of his wand, to stop it from crushing you both to your deaths.

“Hiya, Moony.” You laid down right next to him, turning to his side to face him.

“Not handling the NEWTs stress very well then?” He asked.

“What does it look like?” You said, gesturing to your pathetic state.

Remus reached into his pocket and offered you some chocolate. You couldn’t refuse. This was one of the things you loved about him so much, no matter when no matter where, your moony always had chocolate with him. He even smelt like it at this point.

“I miss you.” Remus whispered.

“I’m right here.” You smiled, a tinge of guilt settling in your stomach. You had been avoiding Remus. You loved him so much, he was your person, but you started to develop new feelings- feelings you didn’t recognise- towards him, so you being you, decided to distance yourself from him. He was your best friend, he was moony for Merlin’s sake. Whatever stupid new feelings you had were best kept suppressed.

“No you’re not. I get it, y/n. NEWTs are stressful, but you cannot keep pushing me away like that. You’re my best friend.” Remus complained, tucking a strand of your stray hair behind your ear.

Friend. That word friend made something inside of you hurt. It was strange, you never thought being called ‘best friend’ by Moony would make you feel any shade of sadness, but thats what it was doing.

“Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” You blurted out. You didn’t care if he knew now, it was paining you too much to keep it all in.

An addled look spread across Remus’ face.

He took you by your wrist and rolled you towards him, pulling you into a tight embrace. You both started to laugh uncontrollably.

“Oi! Loony Lupin! Let me gooo!” You protested, squirming against his grip. You didn’t want to admit it, but you felt so safe in his arms. Nothing could go wrong right now, not when Moony was holding you.

“Never! Not until you tell me what that meant.” He chucked into your shoulder.

You stopped laughing and looked him dead in the eye. Can’t you tell? Look me in the eye, Remus. Can’t you tell that I’m in love with you? You thought to yourself, but obviously, you couldn’t say that.

Suddenly, you noticed how close the two of you actually were. His hands were around your waist, both your faces inches away, you could feel his warm breath against your cheeks.

You jerked upright, escaping his grip, and stood up.

“Right, erm… I’m gonna go-“ You mumbled.

“Y/n! Stop! Why are you being like this?” He shouted after you.

“Why am I being like this? How thick can you be!!?? Honestly Remus, for someone so smart, you really are dumb.” You spat, not caring what he thought.

“What are you talking about, y/n?” He stopped you from walking, standing too close to you for your liking.

“I’m bloody in love with you, you fool.” You managed, your voice barely a whisper.

Well, thats the end of your friendship with Remus Lupin. He was probably gonna laugh in your face now, with the rest of the marauders of course. But wait, he wasn’t laughing- his eyebrows creased as a delicate smile spread across his face.

“Oh love, why didn’t you just say so?” He closed the distance between the two of you by pulling you into a deep kiss. You kissed back, maybe too eagerly, but you didn’t care. You had waited for this for so long, your insides felt like a rollercoaster, as he wrapped an arm around your waist.

You pulled away and looked at his face, he was completely undone.

“Maybe instead of avoiding me and drowning yourself in school work, if you had told me how you felt, you would’ve found out that I felt the same way.” Remus said, kissing your forehead.

You smiled. Remus and you, under the Whomping Willow- your spot. Everything was okay now, you felt normal again, after so long.

(All rights reserved, ©)

[khevras]

Golden Wind/Vento Aureo Spoilers

Video Transcript

Bruno: I'll be forced to cut ties with you. A traitor stands alone on an island of isolation. Your failure will be yours and yours alone.

So recently I've decided I really wanted to rewatch golden wind after reading the rest of the parts, and since this time I wanted to give more focus to the animation, I decided to watch it in dub. As a result, when I got to this part in ep3, I realised the dub had elected to change what exactly Bruno had said, stating the words above instead.

This struck me as a bit of a wierd change until I then realised how much this moment foreshadows Fugos 'betrayal' at San Giorgio Maggiore; by having the only one not betraying the boss being the one who suffers what Bruno predicted.

I feel like this foreshadowing is honestly amazing, and also hits home at how Fugo feels later on in phf when thinking back to his actions as the pier. I feel like he really does think of his lack of movement as a failure towards Bucciarati, one he has to atone for and I think it's really interesting.

On top of that, I find it really fun how accurate Brunos words are to the situation as a whole, and I find it quite ironic that the one who suffers them isn't even betraying the boss like Bruno is describing, but rather Bruno himself.

Overall, I really like how this singular line foreshadows a moment episodes later, and how I can bring up how Fugo's opinions and feelings on the event are reflected in Bucciarati's words.

[pensymbols]

if u believe that jason grace is lame gtfo this is NOT safe space for you

[in-tua-deep]

man i have really been thinking about worldbuilding and exposition in books recently

when i was like, i don’t know, twelve-ish, I picked up this book about a teenage girl in a spy school. and i absolutely fell in love with it - I thought it was incredibly neat how the book just seemed to drop me into the middle of the story, even starting in the girl’s second year. in fact, the main character frequently referenced events from her first year (falling in love with a civilian, things ending badly, finding secret passageways, losing her mother’s trust etc.) 

and I actually really enjoyed the fact that the character had a rich and vibrant life outside of what i had read and that the book didn’t go out of its way to explain her past in flashbacks or anything. i understood the main takeaways and why she was reacting to things based on what i gleaned, and more than that i understood the growth of the character, why she was cautious in certain places but reckless in others, etc and i felt smarter for not being handed the answer on a silver platter

anyway it wasn’t until i finished the book and realized there was a sequel that i looked it up and found out that. in fact. i had started with the second book in the series.

oops.

[twinklingwatermellon]

Hmm