#but him being an author is something that can be so truly personal

[awkness]

No Man is an Island

(Paternal Platonic Yandere oc & Injured Teenage Genderneutral Reader)

You and a small group of people are left stranded on an island, struggling to survive. One member of the group, Henry, has grown a paternal attachment towards you and has taken on the task of caring for you, but are his intentions truly as benevolent as they seem, or is there something much more selfish and behind them?

Content warnings: injury, plane crashes, talks car accidents, coma, and child death, and general yandere shenanigans

Authors Note: This is much more chill then what I usually write. Don't be fooled, though, this dude is still messed up lol

You were on a plane alone, flying back to see your parents when the plane begins to experience severe turbulence. The captain tries to reassure everyone that things are under control, but it only gets worse. It feels like you're in the middle of an earthquake. Oxygen masks fall from the ceiling, and you can barely put yours on before blacking out

You wake up to the sun shining in your eyes and a horrible, throbbing pain in your leg

You're near the shoreline of the beach, a canopy of tropical trees shielding you from the sun. Turning your head, you could make out the main wreckage of the plane. There's a crudely made splint on your left leg, which is swollen and covered in bruises. There are no people in sight

Panicking, you start yelling, trying to find someone, anyone to help you understand what's happening

A middle-aged, gruff looking man comes from the wreckage. He introduces himself as Henry and helps you calm down before explaining the situation to you

The plane had crashed on an unihabited island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, an unknown distance away from the mainland. All of the crew were dead, and most of the passengers were as well. The only people who survived were you, Henry, and no more than ten other people, all variously injured

None where as injured as you, though. Henry says that you had most likely broken your left fibula and tibia when the plane crashed. As the bone hadn't broke through your skin, he says that it should heal on its own, but it would take months, most of it spent on bed rest

The first few days were the roughest. You spent your time in a haze of pain and heat from the brutal and humid temperatures from the island. It was hard to make yourself eat, and you often felt like you never had enough to drink, as your group had decided to ration the fresh water and food that was scavenged from the crash

The other survivors didn't interact with you often. It wasn't on purpose, but they were too busy working to make this place temporarily habitable, and they had no time to think of an injured person who couldn't help them. Plus, you weren't much for conversation anyway, given your current state

The only person you did see regularly was Henry. He checked on you often throughout the day, acting much like your self-appointed doctor. He seemed to have a basic understanding of what medical care to provide you, though, so you weren't about to protest

His bedside manner was good as well, knowing when you were in too much pain to make conversation and when you were lucid enough to want company. He was your only source of companionship for those first few days, being the one to bring you your daily rations of airplane pretzels and coconut water and make sure you were eating.

Whether it was the pain subsiding or you simply adjusting to it, you began to pull yourself out of your pain driven stupor and started talking to Henry more, out of the pure loneliness and boredom of your situation

He was very easy to talk to despite his outwardly serious and borderline intimating disposition. As you talked to him more, you found him to be friendly and a bit corny, occasionally cracking a stupid dad joke or pulling light-hearted pranks on you. He seemed fairly competent at reading people, able to sense your loneliness, and often encouraging you to open up whenever he had the chance to talk

You didn't know if it was out of genuine interest or pity for your circumstances, but you found you couldn't refuse his company. Before you knew it, you started oversharing about your life. Within the next two weeks, he knew pretty much every major thing about you, from your family, your hobbies, where you lived, what your future goals and aspirations were, and so on

On the other hand, he seemed more reluctant to open up, often getting quiet or withdrawn when your questions got too personal, with what constituting 'personal' varying. You eventually picked up that something troubling must of happened to him in his past involving his family, so you stopped pushing, letting him bring up his past on his own time

Outside of superficial facts about him, the only thing you knew was that he was a former US Army Special Forces survival expert, which was how he knew how to treat your injury, and how he knew how to survive on the island

When you were feeling well enough, he would teach you some of survival knowledge he had, teaching you different fire starting methods, how to build a lean-to, and how to crack open a coconut to get the milk. He seemed rather anxious about watching you wield his knife, though, so he did that for you when he could

Things take a turn for the better as the group finds decent shelter that isn't the plane wreckage in the form of uninhabited caves in the heart of the island, along with a waterfall spouting drinkable water

Some are reluctant to leave the shoreline, as the group had taken to maintaining a bonfire there to hopefully signal passing planes or boats for help. A compromise was reached where they would move to the caves and would continue to maintain the fire in shifts

The trek towards the caverns was especially hard on you. The rest of the survivors had gone ahead to carry the supplies to the caverns, leaving Henry to guide you through the thick foilage and uneven terrain

Henry had given you a walking stick to aid your journey, but because of your prolonged bedrest, there were often times you had to be carried, making the journey a slow and tedious one. You apologized, but he brushed it aside, saying he didn't mind, as he often had to carry much heavier loads in the army. He then went on to tell you cherry picked stories from his time in the military to distract you until you reached the caves

He had decided that it would be best for you to sleep near him, in case you needed assistance or if there was an emergency. His reasoning seemed sound, and you were inclined to trust him after all this time, so you agreed

With this newfound stability, things finally seemed to slow down, as people weren't constantly threatened with death by starvation, dehydration, or exposure

This was also the time that the other survivors began to talk to you more regularly

It was how you learned that Henry had become the defacto leader of sorts, given he was the most qualified out of the group. People often came to you to see if he was there whenever they needed him, asking you to pass messages along to him when he wasn't there. Which was pretty often, given how he was usually the person to help gather food or scout out new parts of the island

It was after one of these outings that you began to learn more about him

It had been a rainy, stormy day, which made the groups whole mood sour. Henry was out with a small group to gather food, and you were with the rest of the survivors, hanging out in the main cave

It was easy to overhear conversations in the main cave, noise often bouncing about the walls. It's how you and the rest of the people in there were forced to listen to a heated conversation developing between two of your members

Apparently, one of the more toublesome people of your group had been caught stealing from one of the other members of the cave. Their talking turned to arguing, and the arguing became shouting, which became shoving, which was steadily growing more violent by the second

Some had tried to break up the fight while everyone else had managed to move away except you, who could only slowly hobble away

A fellow survivor was trying to usher you away when someone knocked into you, causing you to fall and hit your head on the cavern floor. You lost consciousness

When you woke, the first thing you noticed was the pain in your head, throbing like a pulse. The second was that you were back in your bed (if you could call a platform of crushed bamboo and palm leaves a bed), a blanket tucked to your chin. The third were the footsteps of Henry as he came over to kneel beside you, his face creased in thought and worry

He then went to question you on how you were feeling, if you knew who you were, if you remembered what happened, as well as checking your eyes and testing your muscles and general coordination

It was only after he was satisfied you didn't have any severe brain injury that he finally relaxed and explained what happened

After you were knocked unconscious, the fighting had stopped, and you had been taken back to your part of the cave to be taken care of as they waited for Henry and his group to arrive

The conversation then faded into silence, as you were too caught up in your pain to keep talking. You closed your eyes and laid back down

It wasn't until later that night that you finally noticed that Henry was still in the room, watching you, face blank and motionless as if he were in another world. You've never seen him look that way before

You nudge him and he startles, completely caught off guard, apologizing for worrying you

You ask him what's wrong, and instead of brushing your question off like he usually does, he hesitates before going on to speak about the family he used to have, a wife and a child, who he loved dearly. One day, they ended up in a car crash. He lived with minimal injuries, but his wife died, and his child ended up brain dead with no hope of recovery. He had kept the child on life support for months before finally pulling the plug

"When I was waiting for you to wake up, it was like I was back in the hospital, hoping beyond hope that a miracle would happen, and I would see them open their eyes again... Y'know, it's the craziest thing. While I was watching you, I kept thinking about how they would've been your age if they were still here. They would of looked just like you."

You apologize, unable to think of anything else to say. He waves it off and tells you not to mind what he said and to go to bed. He was still sitting and watching you as you fell asleep

About five months after the crash, when the group had started to lose hope of there being a rescue, someone had spotted a plane flying across the night sky

Everyone scrambled to strengthen the bonfire on the shore, yelling at the sky in a desperate attempt to be noticed

With Henry's help, you made your way to the fire as well, propping yourself up with a walking stick to keep your weight off your broken leg, waving your free arm to the sky as you joined in the shouting

But it didn't matter. The plane flew away, disappearing into the dark

Some people cried, others flew into a rage, and the rest didn't say a word. Eventually, people slowly made their way back to the caves, disheartened at their loss

After a few hours, it was just you and Henry left on the shore, the dying embers of the fire next to you as you both stared at the sky. He seemed content

You break the silence and ask him if he thinks there will ever be another opportunity for rescue

"I don't know, but I doubt it. With how long it's been, that plane probably wasn't searching for us. We probably won't see another one anytime soon."

"You don't sound too broken up about it" you say.

"I guess I'm not. If you can overlook the heat, this place ain't half bad. Fresh seafood, clean water, a built-in shelter, and 24/7 access to my own private beach. Shit, I don't even have to pay taxes anymore, either. This is the closest thing to paradise I'll ever find."

"You can't mean that, right? We can't stay here forever."

"Of course we can. We have everything we could need. Plenty of people have lived in worse places."

That's not what I mean, what about my family? I want to go home!

The mention of your family leaves him stunned, like he forgot they existed. He quickly regains his bearings and continues

"I don't mean to make you upset, kid, but I think you're misunderstanding me. I know it hurts now, but there's nothing stopping you from living a happy life here. You've got food, a roof over your head, and someone to take care of you, what more could someone ask for?"

You don't reply. Sensing your darkening mood, he offers to help walk you back, and you accept, both of you slowly making your way through the foilage in silence

You fail to notice that the fire was left unattended and how it had slowly died out, leaving the island invisible to any help that could pass by

The next morning, no one bothers to reignite the fire

Afternoon rolls around and Henry leaves, going to fish for your next meal. You pray it isn't sea cucmbers again

Someone comes up to you, asking for some cordage they had lent to Henry. Instead of waiting for him to come back, you decide to search for it yourself

You search his part of the cave and almost give up before spotting a bag hidden in a crevice of the cave. It was so well hidden, you're afraid you might lose sight of it if you turn away. What could he have in there? You're almost certain Henry wouldn't keep rope tucked so far out of sight. But you couldn't help your curiousity. You've been in here countless times, how didn't you notice this? Against your better judgment, you open the bag

You don't find the cordage

Instead, inside the small bag is the bright orange of a flare gun and several unused flare cartridges

[theeoriginals]

“It was- not love at first sight, but familiarity. Like, oh, it’s you.” With Klaus or Elijah please! Something to make me feel better while I do this awful assignment 🥲

deep breaths | elijah mikaelson

pairing: elijah mikaelson x reader (no y/n!)

warnings: noneeee this is just sweet

author’s note: i wrote this at work on my phone just now so sorry if it’s not the best <3

The thing is, Elijah Mikaelson has lived many, many lives. He has had so many names, faces, stories, and voices he can hardly remember them all at this point. That, he supposes, is just part of the curse of immortality. Esther likely didn’t think that far ahead out of her grief when she turned them all into monsters. She didn’t think to consider that she wasn’t saving herself anymore loss, she was cursing her children, leading them to damnation and then blaming them for what she did.

Elijah would likely live another thousand years before he was able to fully comprehend all of the tangled, contradictory emotions that came with vampirism. A gift and a curse, like most things.

What he could for certain say was that he’s loved just as much as he’s hated. He would even argue that you can’t possibly know what it means to hate someone unless you loved them before, unless you still loved them. And although he believed that, he was not someone to give second chances often. At least not to anyone besides his siblings— though that was a different beast altogether.

Elijah knew that even if he hated someone, someone else could love that person just as much. He’d seen it often enough, felt betrayal in his gut like a stake to the heart.

Love, in all of its glory, was not often kind to Elijah.

So whenever his siblings found it necessary to tease him for being so uptight and closed off, he did nothing more than roll his eyes, because it was much easier than telling them that he was scared. Truly, deeply, in his ancient bones, he was scared. Not of love itself, but of the continuously growing sense that he would never truly find real love. And perhaps it was entirely too human of him to think that way, and perhaps it made him weak to some, but Elijah knows that his brothers and sisters more than anyone crave love just as much as he does. He knows they feel it just as deeply as he does, that want in their bones that rushed through their blood, the want for someone to just come in and never leave.

It’s hard to find that when you outlive most people. Harder than one might think, even if you fall in love with an immortal being. It’s not just that he’ll outlive most everyone he could fall in love with, either. It’s that every time it seems he’s done it, he’s fallen in love even knowing it won’t last but letting it happen anyway, it doesn’t— it doesn’t fill that void inside of him.

It doesn’t flood his mind and his body, it doesn’t fill him with life, it doesn’t make him want to breathe.

Elijah doesn’t have to breathe, but he wants someone to make him feel like he has to.

For the past thousand years he’s fought and won and lost, and he’s done his best to keep his family alive despite everything they do to drive him insane, despite the fact that they try to kill each other more than anyone else. He has been holding his breath for a thousand years, fighting and fighting and fighting. He wants to exhale.

He can’t explain this to his siblings. They would understand, he knows, but it’s something he’s never said out loud to himself let alone anyone else. Saying it out loud makes it real, and he can’t— he can’t admit it. When you are drowning, when you are holding your breath, you don’t realize you’re drowning for a long time. And the moment that you do, you realize that you can’t breathe and suddenly you’re gasping for air and you’ve all but killed yourself.

Elijah can’t admit that he’s drowning.

He sighs loudly, and it’s not an exhale and it doesn’t lift that weight off of his shoulders. It’s an expression of his annoyance with his siblings, because this far into their collective immortality, all they live for is getting on each other’s nerves.

And here at Rousseau’s is the last place he wants to entertain their petulance. You never know who could be listening, and Elijah really doesn’t want anyone less than favorable to hear about his love life, or lack thereof.

“I wish you’d just bring someone home to meet us at least once!”

“I wish I could go out and have a drink without being harassed by you people,” Elijah says moodily.

Rebekah pushes her bottom lip out in a pout and widens her eyes in a way that has always gotten her anything she wants from anyone ever. Elijah is, in fact, very aware that he and his brothers have worked overtime in making her as ridiculously spoiled and entitled as she is and yet he still manages to be surprised when she behaves like this.

“We aren’t harassing you, Elijah, we want you to be happy. Is that so wrong?”

He sighs again and closes his eyes for a moment before opening them again and fixing them on Rebekah and Klaus. “It’s not wrong. But I don’t know what you expect me to do about my lack of prospects, it’s not like the perfect person can be conjured at whim.”

Klaus lifts a finger and Elijah knows that he’s going to say something ridiculous before he even speaks. The gleam in his eye never bodes well for anyone. “I bet we could find a witch to do just that. We could compile all of your wants and desires in a partner and get a witch to mix it all together for you. Problem solved, Elijah has a soulmate!”

Elijah gives his brother a deadpan look. “Is this witch Victor Frankenstein?”

Rebekah snorts in amusement, and Elijah dutifully ignores it.

“Be creative, Elijah! Open your mind,” Klaus swipes an arm out dramatically, sloshing his drink over the side of his glass, splashing a few drops of bourbon onto Elijah’s suit jacket.

Elijah’s lip curls in distaste and he gives his brother a look of disdain that goes ignored.

“I have an open mind, what I don’t have is an open schedule,”

“You are not as busy as you like to believe,” Rebekah drawls out, finishing off her own drink. “Your life will never change if you don’t go out and do something different! You’ll be stagnant forever, and I do mean forever, brother,”

“I will never be stagnant with your dramatics, Rebekah,”

She rolls her eyes at his avoidant response. “Your love life is stagnant. I don’t even think stagnant is the proper word, it is downright nonexistent. It is extinct.”

“Thank you, Rebekah,”

“Even if you have a sleazy, completely forgettable one night stand, you need to do something. You’re constantly dealing with us, you need to focus on yourself!”

Elijah pours the rest of his bourbon down his throat, barely tasting it as he swallows. “Maybe if you did less idiotic things that I have to deal with I’d have a more active love life. And truly, I’m not sure why I’m being lectured when you two are the furthest thing from romantically successful.”

“I have a child, I’m plenty romantically successful!”

“She was conceived during a drunken one night stand with a werewolf who is now married to someone else.”

“The details don’t matter, I have a child to show for it. I have a father’s wisdom now, you should listen to me!”

Elijah raises an eyebrow. “Unfortunately, I am not part dog and therefore am actually incapable of reproducing much like you thought you were. And considering the trials and tribulations we went through with Hope, I can’t imagine I’d have any better luck in my own venture to fatherhood.”

“You’re being purposefully obtuse,”

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Elijah simpers, gesturing to the bartender for another round for them.

“I have a challenge,” Rebekah cuts in before Klaus can continue their bickering, and Elijah narrows his eyes at the determined gleam in her eyes.

“I don’t like this,”

Rebekah dismisses him with a flutter of her fingers. “The next person to walk through that door, I want you to go and talk to them. You don’t have to have a one night stand, you absolute prude, but you need to speak to someone that you’re not related to, and that isn’t trying to kill you.”

“Rebekah—”

“I don’t want to hear it. Just do this one thing for me, for your darling little sister,”

“My darling little sister—”

“Shut up, look! Someone’s walking inside, get ready to go be your charming self,”

Elijah groans and turns to look at the door as it opens and someone walks through. He sighs again, weighted, empty, scared.

When he lifts his gaze, though, he finds a woman. He takes her in— eyes, nose, lips, hair— and thinks beautiful.

The bar is as crowded as ever, no breaks in sight for the bartenders and waiters, and he’s tucked away at a table with Klaus and Rebekah in the back corner because they are particularly antisocial and Klaus really just wanted to use this outing as a way to remind everyone that they are still here, and that New Orleans is still theirs. The exit is across the room, Elijah has not paid much attention to the distance at all, and yet now.

Now, the crowd of people in between him and the door is frozen and endless. Elijah’s standing before he realizes, and it feels like he’s stepping around the people frozen mid-laugh, mid-drink, mid-bite, because the world has stopped just long enough for him to cross the room.

He parts the crowd and stops before her, eyes roaming over her face. Committing it to memory and vowing to keep it there for the rest of his eternal years.

She looks at him with a smile, blinking at him slowly like she’s got all the time in the world. There’s a necklace sitting on her chest that has a familiar blue stone hanging off of it and he inhales sharply.

He thinks vampire, perhaps a coincidence but things rarely are for him and it’s something new to think that she is immortal, too, of course more fragile than an Original but if she’s smart, and he knows that she is, he can feel it, then she’ll last just as long.

“Hi,” She speaks first, and the world starts up again, the noise comes back and people unfreeze. Now that he’s stood here before her, the world can keep spinning, but it had to wait— it just had to wait for him to catch up.

“Hello,” He responds quietly, too quiet for the bar, but she hears it anyway. “I’m Elijah.”

Her smile widens and she says, “I think I knew that already,” and then she tells him her name and Elijah repeats it for himself, and then for her, and then he turns it over in his head a hundred times over so it never gets lost.

She tilts her head slightly, looking up at him. “Were you trying to leave? Am I in your way?”

“No,” He responds quickly, almost rushed. “Not unless you’re leaving, too.”

She seems pleased at his response and the longer he looks in her eyes, he thinks he’s found a new favorite color.

“I’m not leaving,”

Elijah exhales, and the weight is gone, and the void is no more. And he thinks— oh.

There you are.

[moonyswife]

leo valdez x fem!reader boyfriend headcanons

MASTERLIST

author's note: i´m so sorry for being so absent, but college is kicking my ass right now, i´ve been trying to write more, thanks for reading.

oooo he’s so smitten

warmest boy alive

holding hands with him during winter is heavenly, 

but during summer, hothothothothothot

there never would be a dull moment in your life with him in it

so fun to be around

so silly 

but so smart

you could be talking about something stupid, and he would just comment the most interesting, unknown fact

he would always trying to get a smile on your face

willing to play the jester just to hear you laugh

he’s up to do anything

literally anything, just for the plot

gift giving is his love language

he makes little trinkets

even jewelry

and just surprises you with them, no reason at all, just expressing his love

loyal asf

he’s such a funny guy you forget how powerful he really is

not a fighter, but a joker

tbh such untreated trauma (like all the demigods)

he says he’s a ladies man

but only ever dated you

he’s always put walls up

hiding himself in his humor

you'd be the only one to break through his walls and see his true self

because he knows you won't judge him

he’s so insecure about himself

but he feels so safe around 

he can truly be himself

and the other way around

he’s such a safe, warm, kind person

you can truly be yourself around him

and he’ll love you anyway

[coachbeards]

okay okay okay. hear me out. author beard. like the whole he’s had a million lives bc he says just yes to things and people like him/he knows everything bc he listens more than he talks? all the movie and book references with ted? his reaction to trent having him and ted beta read? just the idea of him sitting down one day and realizing he’s done so much but never done anything because he desperately wanted to and it’s given him so many stories. and he just. starts writing.

YES PLEASEEEE YESSS

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[capsi-cuminme]

Blowing Off Steam

summary: in which you're very stressed, and sparring is the only way you can destress. you're having trouble finding a partner though, so logan volunteers to help.

pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: mild swearing, fingering, some dirty talk, lots of horny thoughts, 18+ MDNI

author's note: ahhhh sweaty logan on a fighting mat is all i need. anyways, thank you guys sm for the response on my other fic, as a gift i bring you smut ;)

•���─✦──•

You’re stressed. You’ve been overworking yourself, you know it, and you need to relax, destress. Your body feels wound up with tension and energy, and you’re unable to release it. It’s not like you have super complicated abilities that mess with your mind and make you lose your shit, no - that’s Jean’s set of troubles, not yours. Your ability is simple enough - super strength. 

So what is it that isn’t simple then? Right. Someone you can actually truly train with and exert yourself out with. There aren’t a load of people who can physically keep up with your strength, not except Colossus, and even he’s just a kid. So when, at times, you want to blow some steam by training, you have next to no one to do it with. 

Or, you didn’t, not until Logan came along. You’ve sparred with him a couple of times, but only for excessively short periods of time, due to you not being able to keep your shit together because of his overwhelming attractiveness. Honestly, you don’t think it’s your fault that you’re unable to focus; his arms look like he could rip apart logs of wood with them, his shoulders are so wide that they’re practically made for people to rest their ankles on, and his demeanor - his understated, wolfish demeanor makes you go insane. 

And as if all these things weren’t bad enough on their own, they tend to get exponentially exemplified whenever you guys spar. Obviously, fighting makes him breathe hard and stuff. So your life becomes even tougher. 

Really, you aren’t trying to be horny around him all the time. But that’s the thing. You’re pent up, stressed, overworked. Being a member of the X-Men means that it gets really hard to get laid due to several factors, and then when your coworkers are so hot? God help you. 

As you sit on the gym’s bench, staring at the sparring mats, you strain your mind to think of someone to spar with. You could ask Colossus, the kid’s always more than ready and could give you some competition on one of your bad days. But there’s too much of a risk. You’re already restless with energy, itching to let yourself go; in case the kid isn’t prepared or you get too excited, you’d end up hurting him, which is something you can’t risk. 

You could maybe go to Ororo and Scott, ask them to come at you together? The two of them together would successfully tire you out. Maybe they’d become a bit more than you’re mentally willing to handle. You don’t want to have to strategise at every step. 

God, you just need someone who can handle whatever you throw at them without having to think too much. Unfortunately for you, there’s only one person in the mansion who can do that. 

“Oh hey Bub, what you doing here? Got no classes to teach?” The somehow smooth but gravelly voice breaks you out of your train of thought as you turn to look at Logan, entering the gymnasium. 

Internally rejoicing at his choice of clothes - the white wifebeater under the oversized jacket - while simultaneously praying that he isn’t here to stay, you get up from your seat to speak to him. “Oh, nothing much. Just wanted to blow off some steam.”

“And you’re blowing off steam by… sitting on the bench?” He raises an eyebrow, looking at you questioningly. 

You sigh through your nose, smiling exhaustedly. “No, genius. I was confused about what I should do to destress.”

Your prayers go down the drain as you notice his eyes light up at the prospect of a sparring partner. Nodding to the mats, he asks, “You wanna go?”

Tongue in cheek, you review your options for a moment. Go to bed frustrated and stressed, or fight an extremely attractive man who’s also able to keep up with you. 

“Sure, let’s go.” 

And that’s how you find yourself attempting to elbow Logan in the face. He dodges and takes a step back, but not too far. Turning, you see the grin etched on his face. Taking it as a challenge, you feign a movement to the right, but attack from the left. Your arm aims for his face, but he deflects it by pushing your momentum to one side, stepping away and behind you and putting you into a headlock.

“What’s up?” he murmurs into your ear. “Can’t figure out what to do? Are you really that tired, huh?” 

You felt his chest heave from behind you, his warm breath tickling your ear. Body humming with excitement and mind buzzing with the thrill of finally being in an equal match, you grit your jaw, throwing your head back against his. As much as you enjoy the tone of his voice, you hope it hits him in the mouth just so he can shut up, because being aroused is not something you’re looking forward to. 

Yes you’re horny, maybe even a little perverted, but you truly don’t have any ulterior motives. 

Logan hisses as his grip on you loosens. Shimmying your way out of his grip, you lunge at him, arms ready to swing, but instead of throwing a punch when you get near, you use your leg to swipe at his legs, resulting in him landing on his back.

Silently rejoicing, you straddle him, pulling your arm back to land a punch on his jaw, but unfortunately he grabs hold of your arms before you can do that. As a result, you’re left heaving on top of him, arms immobile, face right above his. You don’t miss the way he breathes, sweat trickling down his forehead, eyes glinting with something you can’t fully identify. You also don’t miss the dampness of your underwear, the electricity you feel where you’re sitting on him. You realize you’re playing a dangerous game. Just as you’re about to make a move to get up, Logan suddenly moves you by the grip he has on your arms, slamming you onto the mats with considerable force. He looms on top of you, looking down. You squeak in indignant surprise, but he pins your arms on both sides of your face, lodging his thigh between yours. You gasp, not expecting the sudden escalation of events. “Darling, you know I’ve got a heightened sense of smell, right?” he asks, drawling. “I can smell your arousal, practically feel how you’re soaking down there.” Eyes wide and mouth agape, you stare up at him, not sure what to say, how to apologize. “Logan, I- I’m sor-” “Don’t have to say a word, Darling, I’m the same as you,” he emphasizes his point by rolling his hips against yours. You whimper quietly, feeling his erection pressing against your clit. “If I’m not interpreting this correctly, you can stop me,” he hums, getting closer to your face. Waiting for your approval, he looks at you. You close the distance between the both of you, borderline moaning as you feel his tongue grazing against your lips, asking to enter your mouth. More than willing, you grant him entry freely, whimpering as his tongue explores your mouth. You break the kiss, short of breath, but your distance doesn’t last long. Logan is sloppily making out with you as he grinds against you. Your bodies move hurriedly, in urgent need of release. 

“Lo,” you gasp between the kisses, “need you so bad, please.” He complies, hands leaving your arms as he gets on his haunches and quickly unbuttons your pants, pulling them down. His hand moves to your pussy, thumb pressing against your clit, gauging your reaction. Your eyes widen due to the unexpected movement, and you gasp. Satisfied with your response, he rubs short, quick circles against your clit, stimulating you as he slowly pushes in one finger. You moan, hands reaching down to stop the sudden intrusion. It’s been a while since you’ve done this, so your body’s sensitivity is at an all-time high. Logan doesn’t care, swatting away your hands, slipping in another finger. He moves them in shallow thrusts, stretching you out while looking for the spot that’ll finally get you wound up enough for his liking. You bite your lip to keep yourself silent, staring at the way Lo’s fingers pump in and out of you, making a mess out of your cunt. Suddenly, his fingers press into that spot that you’re never quite able to reach yourself, making you let out a loud moan. “Lo, Lo please, right there please, don’t stop-” you break your own voice off with an even louder whimper, eyes closing due to the pleasure. Logan watches you with keen eyes trained on your face. He speeds up his fingers and thumb, enjoying your reaction thoroughly, as it ignites something deep within him. He palms himself lightly, hissing as he realizes how hard he is. “Shit, darling, you make me insane,” he mumbles, guiding one of your hands to the bulge in his jeans, making you feel him. Your mouth falls open with a little “oh,” as you feel him. You try to palm him to relieve some of his tension, but fail as his fingers pump in and out of you, driving you closer and closer to the edge. “O- oh God, Lo, I’m cumming, please please please-” you moan loudly as your orgasm crashes over you, thrashing on the mat. Logan holds down your hips, continuing his languid movements, easing you out of the feeling in waves. As you finally relax, catching your breath, you look up at him, unsure of what comes next. Usually by this point, guys tended to take their own pants off. Logan’s were still very much on. Before you could verbalize your confusion, he speaks. “I think we’ve blown enough steam off in the gym,” he chuckles. “I don’t want Charles to gim’me looks the entire month. I say we take this upstairs bub, what d’ya say?”

You stare up at him, wondering why he’s even asking, when there’s only one possible answer you could make out through the haziness of your mind. “Yes, let’s go.”

[lyrefromthesea]

Blind reader x hashira + kokushibo? (since she's blind she doesn't know he's a demon?)

Please 🙃

Male hashira (+ Kokushibo) x Reader - Blindness is something I can overlook

author's note: fun fact, i am partially colorblind.

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: none

Tengen:

"i like these.." you told him, holding a small chain of jewelry in your hands. the man looked over your shoulder, a content hum leaving him.

normally, people wouldn't take a blind person to shop for accessories with them, but Tengen didn't seem to care. in fact, he had appeared quite eager to take you with him.

now here you were, trying to find a "flashy" - as he'd like to call it - accessory for him. not knowing how they looked, you decided to feel them instead.

some of them were lightly sharp, sure to leave small scratches on his skin. others were rounded and had a smooth surface. you preferred them over the sharp jewelry, but weren't happy with those either.

finally, when your hand brushed over diverse stones, you felt content with the jewelery you've found. it felt like a rope in your hand, but it was made out of small cold stones, which were the perfect mix of smoothness and sharpness.

they varied in size and shape, leaving a good impression on you. especially since they reminded you of the big stones on his headband. when you told him that you liked them, his eyes lit up.

"there's another one here." he said, taking the second chain into his hand. the cool color of the new accessory matched the pink diamonds he already wore.

"they're perfect, beautiful." he told you, giving the cashier a handful of money. he didn't wait to get the rest of his money back, too focused on the gift you've found him.

"are you just saying that or do you mean it?" you ask, yet you smiled right after, knowing that he was being honest when he talked to you.

"they're great - flashy. i'll make sure to wear them everywhere." he was already attaching them to the side of his headband, determined to keep his promise true.

yet you were only focused on the softness that had sneaked into his voice, showing his appreciation for the newfound treasure.

Obanai:

he didn't mind your blindness, welcomed it even. he would've never admitted it to you, never told you - knowing it would probably hurt your feelings.

but he felt it was better that way, better for you not to see him. he was hideous and he knew it.

so why, after years of insecurity, he allowed someone to see his state of weakness. his heart nearly sunk when you asked him to let you see him.

he had told you it wasn't important, that he just needed to be there for you, but you had insisted and he couldn't deny you a single wish.

now he held himself back from moving away, his heart beating faster as he saw your hands nearing his uncovered face.

yet the contrast of his feelings and the soft warmth of your touch left him puzzled. you were sitting right next to him, hands cupping his cheek. more importantly, your thumbs were carefully tracing over his scars.

he knew you could feel the difference under your thumb, could feel how different he was from other people. part of him had expected you to leave him after finding out how hideous he truly looked.

"you're beautiful.." you whispered, his eyes widening like they've never done before. he was left speechless by your words, swallowing down his fear to respond.

"you don't have to lie." he answered, voice unstable. he couldn't believe that someone could love him, not when he was like this.

"i wish i could see you with my eyes." his trembling hands touched yours, squeezing them just lightly. he knew how much those words meant, you had never spoken them out before.

and it wasn't only your wish. he could feel the desire to make you see swell up in his own chest. to imagine that he thought differently before - it felt stupid to him now.

Rengoku:

"open your mouth and close your eyes!" he instructed, making you halt.

did he just? he did not, right? ..right?

"Kyojuro..?" you carefully said his name, making the man answer with a hum. he still held his spoon in hand, having wanted to give you a bite of his food.

you raised your hand, waving it in front of your face. it took him a moment to catch on, realizing that his words had been stupid to the core.

"oh- i certainly didn't-" he stopped when he heard you snort, wide eyes watching you smile and laugh. his heart started beating faster, his cheeks flushing.

you clearly weren't mad or disappointed, but he felt embarrassed for forgetting something so obvious. the words slipped out of his mouth before he could even register it.

"it's fine, don't worry." you answered, putting a comforting hand on his. you leaned forward, taking the spoon into your mouth and chewing on the food before swallowing it down.

"is that sashimi? it's really good." you complimented, the note of wasabi still lingering on your tongue.

"do you want me to order some more?" he asked, turning his hand around to hold yours. you hummed, a small smile forming on your face.

days like these were your favourite - the perfect mix of romantic and silly.

Sanemi:

"it should be around here.." you mumbled, pulling the white haired man with you. his eyes were fixated on your surroundings, trying to figure out what exactly drove you towards this place.

"ah- can you smell it?" you gasped, turning your head towards the right, trying to pick up on the floral scent lingering in the air.

"no.." he answered, shaking his head lightly. no matter what he thought off, he couldn't come up with a reason why you'd bring him here.

nevertheless, his legs continued moving, not because he was necessarily interested, but because he wanted to make you happy.

that's why his eyes widened when you walked past multiple trees, reaching a giant flower field.

now he understood what you were talking about, the floral aroma enveloping his senses. he felt you letting go of his hand, leaning down to pick one of the flowers and smell on it.

the field was beautiful, full of the prettiest flowers he had ever seen. however, he realized that was a sight you'd never experience, slowly lowering himself in the grass next to you.

he took one of the flowers, mimicking your actions and breathing in it's scent. if you couldn't see what he was seeing, he could at least try experiencing the same as you.

"it's beautiful.."

Giyuu:

"like this." his voice was quiet, but it sounded much thicker and lower than the night's silence. he had asked you to show him your hand, but when you asked how, he guided it into the correct position.

your palm was facing him, fingers feeling the wind brush between them, teasing you with light touches and the surrounding silence.

you felt his hand on yours, his fingers brushing over your palm, gently drawing different forms onto your skin.

"it tickles.." you whispered, a quiet chuckle escaping you when he started tapping along your skin. a gentle huff escaped him, the one that made you know he was smiling.

"that's how i feel when i see you.." he answered, his hand finally pressing against yours, fingers interlocking in a gentle hold.

you silently scooted closer, the night's air sending a comfortable chill over your body. it didn't take him long to hold you closer, letting his body's warmth settle into your skin.

"you make me feel ticklish all around.. sometimes i worry i won't be able to think when i see you." he admitted, coaxing a smile out of you.

he didn't mind that you couldn't see, because he could see your beauty either way.

Gyomei:

some might say it would be ironic for two blind people to fall in love or befriend each other, but it certainly worked out for the two of you.

you admired his strength and he admired yours. truthfully, he hadn't noticed you at first, hadn't questioned why you used another weapon than the other demon slayers, but it all made sense when he found out about your blindness.

"this is your weapon of choice?" he had asked when the two of you joined a mission. he held a long rope dart in his hand - your treasure. Haganezuka had created the weapon for you.

the usually normal rope was made out of a thin chain, helping you coordinate throughout the fight. naturally, Gyomei who also used a special weapon, was intrigued by it.

"due to my lack of strength, it's the only suitable weapon for me." you answered, your fingers tracing over the axe he carried around with him. it was much heavier than your weapon, fitting for the man, who was much taller than you.

"it is a good choice indeed. i admire your critical thinking skills." he admitted, a smile displaying on his face.

and though you would sadly never see the happy look he'd give you in the future, you certainly liked the content tone of his voice.

Kokushibo:

he didn't remember his former loved ones. he didn't remember his wife. he didn't remember his child. their faces were a blur that he had created himself.

but you weren't. you were well. you were alive. he didn't need to remember the past when he could enjoy the presence with you.

his own human, the one he swore to protect. perhaps the gods have blessed him this time around, just like they had blessed his damned brother before.

the one person Kokushibo yearned to have just had to be a human. his surprise when he realized you weren't able to see was immaculate. he felt compassionate. and relieved.

"greetings.." the male spoke, stepping through the small gate of your house. the area was surrounded by wisteria, but like the gods had wanted him to find you, they left a small path for him.

"Kokushibo, it's you!" you smiled, standing up and letting go of the flowers in your hand. it took some time, but you managed to grow some in your garden.

the demon watched you move towards him, affectionately taking his hand like you've known each other forever. "you came back earlier this time."

"i happened to have a bit of free time.." he answered, low voice filling you with contentedness. while he made sure to look at you, his other eyes glanced at the garden.

the world could be dangerous for a blind person, but you've built your own small paradise between the rows of poisonous trees.

"let's get you inside, it's quite cold." you said, leading him towards the entrance of your very own home.

he wondered if he could keep up this facade of trust or if you would hate him after you've found out that the enemy stood in your house.

[ham1lton]

DREAM GIRL.

pairings: jude bellingham x reader.

faceclaim: maya jama <3

summary: being the personal assistant of sir lewis hamilton has been the highlight of your career so far, even when he has you fetching organic vegan dog food for roscoe at six in the morning. but that was expected, what wasn’t expected was a certain english footballer taking an interest in you.

author’s note: shout out to my jude girlies! this one is for u! it’s also technically the 29th where i am, so happy twenty first to jude! now part of a series.

— wanna be tagged in any future works? fill out my taglist!

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liked by landonorris, yourbestie and 78,928 others.

yourusername: days lately 💐

view all 10,739 comments

user1: THE LEWIS PIC 😭😭

lewishamilton: you’re fired.

-> yourusername: this is the ninth time you’ve fired me this week.

-> landonorris: i’ll hire you y/n.

-> lewishamilton: shut up norris. don’t steal my assistant.

-> yourusername: I’VE BEEN REHIRED AGAIN WOOOOOO!

user2: why is yn the most entertaining f1 related person.

user3: guys, who is she??? she’s stunning!

-> user4: yn yln! she’s lewis’ assistant and practically family at this point. she’s been with him since she was 18. she just had her 24th birthday so they’ve worked together for almost 6 years! she’s so funny and if you’re a fan of lewis, you should definitely follow her!

charles_leclerc: roscoe and leo playdate when?

-> yourusername: roscoe is booked up for the unforeseeable future i apologise.

-> alexandrasaintmleux: oh no 😢

-> yourusername: suddenly he has an opening!!!! just for alex.

-> alexandrasaintmleux: yay! i’ll message you 😊💐

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liked by lewishamilton, judebellingham and 233,938 others.

yourusername: btw if you catch your girl smiling at her phone it’s probably something i posted. your girl thinks i’m hilarious and loves me more than you 🤷🏾‍♀️

view all 27,127 comments

carmenmmundt: caption is true!

-> yourusername: kissing you virtually <3

user1: i love yn sm.

-> user2: did u see her vlog for the lv event?? she feeds us sm. shirtless lewis in the beginning, jude bellingham in the background of the event and her posing with central cee at the end. she’s collecting british boys like she’s getting paid for it.

user3: marry me yn!!!!

lilymhe: roscoe is judging tf out of you 😭

-> yourusername: he hates to see me shine 😔

user4: YOU LOOK SO GOOD IM FROTHING

user5: why is jude in the likes omggg???

roscoelovescoco: you’s my favourite’s 🐶

-> yourusername: love u sm my baby 😢

user8: is it truly a yn post without a roscoe pic?

*liked by yourusername.*

user6: all the wags love yn. i need wag!yn expeditiously.

user7: can you even post this?? won’t you get fired?

-> yourusername: idk. take it up w/ my boss lewishamilton.

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START INSTAGRAM LIVE. (5K WATCHING)

YN: hi guys!! how are we all doing? you okay?

user1: YN I LOVE YOU!!

user2: im good!

user3: where are you?

YN: i’m currently in madrid right now for a event that lewis is involved in. i love madrid. much different to drizzly england.

user4: omg perfect timing.

user5: your bf is in madrid rn.

user6: god aligned your chakras 😍

YN: my bf???? guys i don’t have a boyfriend.

user7: you do now. boyfriend distribution system has done its job and he’s hot! and rich! and successful!

user8: lmfaooo ur face 😭

YN: who are you guys talking about. i promise you, i am single.

user9: jude bellingham posted a tweet asking if he could get more screentime in your next vlog 😭

user10: girl he wants you bad 😭

user11: and we don’t blame him!

YN: jude bellingham? the football player? isn’t he like twelve.

user12: he’s 21 girl 😭

user13: cancers rise !! ♋️

YN: i don’t date younger than me! he’s a baby!

user14: you are freshly 24 😭

user15: dw you are not kelly piquet girl 😭

user16: you should date him!!

landonorris: hi 😃👋🏼

YN: hi future boss dude

landonorris: i think you should date jude as well.

YN: et tu, brute?

END INSTAGRAM LIVE. (12K WATCHING)

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liked by trentarnold66, roscoelovescoco and 1,288,567 others.

yourusername: roscoe took me to the airport and we both sobbed and cried when i had to leave. i could barely enjoy looking at shirtless jude 😔

view all 45,928 comments

judebellingham: it’s okay. you’ll have plenty more chances to see it again.

user1: caption so real 😔

user2: how’s your holiday going?

-> yourusername: great! but i genuinely crave a roast dinner so bad. roast dinner with all the trimmings please and thanks 🙏🏾

user3: i thought you were lewis’ assistant 😭 why are you chilling with jude?

-> yourusername: i am lewis’ assistant but thanks to labour laws, i am entitled to holiday leave. i am on holiday right now.

-> lilymhe: without me? 😔

-> yourusername: sorry babe 😔😔

trentarnold66: thank god. jude wouldn’t shut up about you. so glad you’re together.

-> judebellingham: i’m praying on your downfall. hope your account gets blocked 🙏🏾

landonorris: you’re just on holiday? was hoping you’d been fired so i can hire you 😒

-> yourusername: i only work for world champions. nicorosberg, you hiring?

-> user4: MESSY ASS 😭

-> user5: yn could singlehandedly repair brocedes.

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— taglist: @23victoria @maxlarens @m1892 @stinkyjax @yelenasloverrrrr @tsireyasgf @landososcar @ourlifeforchaos @itseightbeats @xylinasdiary @chelle1306 @velentine @ariellovelynn @shhhchriss @f1kenzzz @lavisenri @namgification @hiireadstuff @theblueblub @lifeless-firefly @ctrlyomomma @evie-119 @starz4me1 (found yourself tagged in something you’d rather not be? refill the taglist with what you would rather be tagged in and leave a note at the bottom for me to delete your old form! if you’d like to be removed all together then send me an ask!)

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

[writersblockiskillingme]

So I saw you wanted request for the rise of red and I'm here to deliver lol. So Captin Hook right? Can I get something like we are also friends with Bridget (or we are like Bridget) and they like run into each other and stuff I'm bad at doing requests and stuff sorry lol

Happy Little Accidents | Captain Hook

Pairing: Captain Hook x fem!reader

Summary: Hook and you always run into each other and he hates it.

Warning/s: fluff, short fic, Morgie's teasing, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: You did amazing with the request, don't worry, hun. I did my best, hope this is what you wanted, enjoy!!

You had a reputation for being, what the VK's would call, a goody two shoes. A person that always follows the rules, never rebels against anyone or anything, is always good, always kind. Even if someone was so incredibly rude to you, you would still have a smile planted onto your face and a thought filled with kindness in your head.

All in all, your personality perfectly matched the one that Bridget from Wonderland had. That is one of the many reasons the two of you were practically inseparable.

No matter what, you always saw good in everyone and everything. Some people loved you for it. Some people found themselves despising you for that personality trait that you possessed.

You usually kept to yourself when you were not hanging out with Bridget or Ella, just trying to stay out of anyone's way.

Bridget always gave her best to make as many friends as possible, simply always going out of her way to make sure she made friends. You were not like that really.

You had Bridget and Ella. You had two friends. That was enough for you. It's not like you didn't want to give people a chance to be your friends. No way! You simply preferred it like that.

And even though you always stayed out of other people's ways, somehow one VK kept running into you.

The one with the smirk that seemed like it never left his face.

The one with the hook on his right hand.

The one who was a part of Uliana's crew.

Captain James Hook.

No matter how hard you tried to avoid each other, you just simply kept running into each other no matter what.

Whether you were just rushing to get to class in time or you were taking a walk or just reading or doing schoolwork on the courtyard, Hook was always there. However, it's not like he wanted to run into you all the time.

He infact hated it.

Constantly running into you. You with your bubbly personality and your kindness and your generosity and your willingness to help others even when they are mean to you and your perfect face and your gorgeous smile and your amazing hair and... and the panic he felt every time the two of you ran into each other.

The panic that appeared every time he realized over and over again just how amazing you truly are. Not that he would admit that to anyone.

Until Morgie noticed.

That's exactly how he ended up leaning against the tree in the courtyard of the Merlin's Academy as Morgie was siting down on the ground not too far away from him, listening as Hook was spilling nonsense at him.

"I just can't do it anymore," Hook groaned as Morgie rolled his eyes once again after God knows how many times. "I constantly run into her, it's crazy."

"Mhm..."

"She's just so annoying."

"Sure."

"I mean," Hook scoffed, basically ignoring Morgie who now had his head resting on his arms, sitting with his legs crossed in the grass. "Who can possibly be so happy all the time?"

"She can."

"It's so infuriating!" Hook groaned, throwing his head back, waving his hook around to emphasize his point. "That stupid, goody goody."

"Just admit that you like her already." Morgie rolled his eyes and Hook got silent all of a sudden.

"I don't-I-," he found himself stuttering and Morgie started to smirk as he saw his friend slowly starting to blush. "I don't like anyone! Especially not someone like her!"

"Mhm," Morgie hummed, unconvinced. "Sure you don't. You just notice every single thing about her and you've been 'complaining' about her kindness and generosity and perfection for almost half and hour. Just admit it to yourself."

"I don't like-"

"Please," Morgie said, once again, no surprise there, rolling his eyes as he looked at Hook. "I'm pretty sure Uliana noticed it, too."

"I-"

"Maleficent did for sure," he chuckled. "She's been looking at you a bit weirdly since few days ago when you started blushing when your little crush touched you accidentally while trying to escape Uliana and save Bridget like usual."

"I DID NOT BLUSH-!" Hook looked mortified and Morgie found himself laughing.

"Oh, please," he said, "Don't be so surprised, of course I noticed it."

Hook looked out into the distance and could have sworn that he saw that familiar hair color at the other side of the school. Morgie looked at him and sighed as he stood up, placing his hand on Hook's shoulder.

"Look, ask her out before someone else does because I've heard that Snow White's son has a thing for her, too." Morgie said and Hook's gaze snapped to Morgie's.

"I just thought that you should know." Morgie said in sing-song voice before he walked away with his arms behind his back, smirking, so pleased with himself.

As his gaze left Morgie's he realized, oh, he's not gonna have that.

TAGLIST:

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@xoxo-h3arts @i-am-fork @a-homosexual-homosapien @snixx2088 @heartsfromcoco @ariaroseloklover @isafran1125 @gayfrog29 @mystic-mae

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend (part two)

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns. 

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. I do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything!! <3

authors note: I truly appreciate every single one of you who has enjoyed this story and has shown it love. I want to have a slow start to things so I hope everyone appreciates a good slow burn lol. enjoy! <3

part two: pathetic

London was absolutely beautiful. You’d always dreamed of coming here- simply exploring anywhere out of America really. It was so fun being in a foreign place hearing silly accents all day, you loved it. You wanted nothing more than to do a world tour for your debut album but your label decided to play it safe by only touring around North America. Now that you were here, you dreamed bigger and would try your hardest to gain the fan base it took to have a world tour. Traveling was honestly one of the best perks of being famous. 

famous

It was a word you were still getting used to as it almost felt shallow to refer to yourself as such. Though it was true. You were famous. Having that interaction with Hugh and Ryan yesterday made the reality sink in even more. Two men who had been in the industry for decades knew who you were, it was mind boggling to put it simply. The embarrassment seemed to keep creeping in when you would remember your interaction between the two men yesterday. The yelp of surprise and the quick, but loud, ‘holy shit’ that was thrown from your mouth involuntarily made you cringe. Hugh asking about Pedro was something you weren’t prepared for at all either. It made sense for him to ask, if he was a close friend of Pedro’s then your name being brought up didn’t seem like the oddest thing. However, never meeting Hugh before, you wished the conversation could have been different. 

Ugh stupid hot, tall, older, Australian man that could sing. He was literally everything you found attractive bundled up into one man. You had a brief obsession with The Greatest Showman, as every theater kid did, but your celebrity crush of the movie was Zac Efron. If only freshman you could see current you, she’d probably laugh. 

Hugh had been on your mind all night and hadn’t left since you woke up this morning. If you could remember, you’d be certain he was the focus of your dreams too. The following and the comment was shocking to say the least. From Ryan’s words, they were fans but why did he follow you after he had met you instead of before. Ha, as you think about it more, it probably wasn’t even him. It was more than likely someone who was hired to run his socials, just like the person on your team that posted that photo for you. You were definitely overthinking it all…This morning when you were brushing your teeth, you kept trying to remember the feeling of his big hand on the base of your spine. It was all a bit pathetic. 

“Helloooo…earth to y/n.” Ashley, your best friend, says as she snaps her fingers in front of your face. “Are you going to tell me what has you all spaced out or do I have to deal with you moping around this entire trip?” There's a hint of annoyance in her voice. 

Ashley has been your best friend since middle school. She was always your number one supporter, so in return, you take her almost everywhere with you. Of course you invited her to London and of course she planned an entire itinerary around your busy work schedule. Her company was appreciated but it was impossible to hide your emotions from her, making moments like this difficult. 

“I’m sorry. It’s nothing really, it can wait until later.” If the two of you weren’t sitting in the middle of a small cafe, you would have told her every single thought that sat in your brain, but you couldn’t. You never knew who was listening in on your conversations. That became something you had to get used to, not being able to exist in public. It usually wasn’t too bad, for example, you could sit in a cafe with your best friend but sometimes things got out of hand and you couldn’t even walk down the street.

“Okay, you better.” She gave you an understanding nod. “So, I bought us tickets to go on the London Eye at 2pm then I thought we could go grab a late lunch or dinner, whatever you-” You’re looking at her and nodding trying your best to pay attention but you can’t. You hated the way one singular interaction with Hugh had your entire day scrambled. If you ever saw him again, you’d have to tell him off for being so hot and ruining the fun London trip you had planned. 

—

The wait for the London Eye ended up taking an extra forty five minutes and Ashley was pissed. She was a very schedule oriented person, one minute off and she’s stressed the fuck out. The entire time we waited, she complained and would have had the king on the phone if you hadn't stopped her. Her mood was unchanged by the time you stepped into your private cart.

“If I tell you all of my boy drama, would it make you calm down and enjoy the ride?” You ask slyly as you look down at the water below as the wheel starts to move the bubble you’re sitting in higher. 

She gasps and her eyes go wide.

“BOY DRAMA???” She screams out, her previous negative mood disappearing and her eyes light up with excitement.

You sigh as you gather your thoughts. 

“Well..it’s not really drama. I may or may not have a teensy crush on someone.” 

“Oh my god!! Who is it? Have I met them?” 

“Uh no. I actually just met him-” She’s cutting you off before you can finish your sentence. 

“YOU SLUT!” She yells, pointing an accusing finger at you. 

“What the hell Ash? I didn’t even tell yo-” 

“It’s Hugh fucking Jackman isn’t it? Stacy said she saw the way you looked at him yesterday. Jesus y/n, you don’t even know the guy.” She’s rambling on, judgment clear in her voice. 

“Since when are you and Stacy on talking terms?” You purposely ignore everything else she said. Ashley was jealous of Stacy for awhile. When you asked her about it she claimed that Stacy was trying to steal her best friend away. It took a lot of reassurance that the relationship you had with Stacy was work before friendship- and if she had become a good friend along the way, that was something you weren’t going to tell Ashley. 

“We can be civil when it comes to concerns for you.” 

“And what concerns are there lately?” 

“Huh… Stacy let me in on your little conversation yesterday about swearing off men for a little bit but once Hugh stepped through the door, she said that she could tell that idea was out the window.” She’s trying her hardest to keep a straight face but there was a slight smirk peeking through. 

“Oh my fucking god, you guys are so dramatic. Yes he’s fine as FUCK but like you said I dont know him. I probably won’t ever see him again.” You sigh at the end. You really wanted to see him again. 

“What even happened that has you wrapped around his finger already?” You don’t speak for a moment as you think about how to say your thoughts without feeling dumb. 

“Please don’t tell me you only have a crush on him because he’s hot…You take your crushes too far for that.” There's a look of panic resting on her face. 

“He uh…well…you know how we took the pictures yesterday for BBC?” You ask and she's nodding. “I thought he looked good but I swear I wasn’t thinking anything irrational. It was when we had to take those stupid pictures and he rested his hand on my back…Ash, I swear there was a spark or something. It felt so… I don’t know…so.. right?” The cart you’re in is sitting at the top of the wheel and you’re taking advantage of the view while you wait for Ashley to respond. When she doesn’t, you turn to look at her. She’s staring blankly at you, giving you slow blinks. 

“What?” Your voice is soft, barely above a whisper. 

“Y/n, how old is he?” Her expression is unchanging. 

“Fifty five…I googled it last night..” You were feeling ashamed of your behavior. You felt like a kid with a stupid school crush. Pathetic. 

“Hm, that’s your oldest yet. What’s next, eighty or ninety five is probably more to your taste huh?” She’s making fun of you and it hurts. You know she’s never approved of your taste in men but you can’t really help it. It’s not like you block out guys your age, they just don’t satisfy you. They’re mean, boring, and losers. You wanted a real man. Someone who was established in life and could take care of you. 

“Whatever..” You let out softly. The cart was nearing the bottom once again and you were ready to be free of the room of gossip and judgment. 

“Y/n… you know I only want what’s best for you. I mean look at what happened with Pedro and all the other men before him.” She’s sincere and you understand her point of view but you wished she would understand yours as well. 

“I know Ash. It’s just a stupid crush anyways.” It was more of a reminder to yourself rather than to Ashley. She was right, you did have a habit of taking your crushes too far. You always had to try to get the guy who held your attention but you were confident in who you were. Most times it worked but a break from dating was what was best for you. 

—

To apologize for being mean, Ashley was currently on the phone with some poor worker from one of Gordon Ramsay’s restaurants. She already made a reservation for tomorrow night but thought tonight would be better to cheer you up. You tried to reason with her by telling her that there were plenty of great restaurants in London we could get into tonight, but she insisted on having a very touristy dinner tonight instead of tomorrow, like it made any of a difference. 

“I know the reservation is for tomorrow but miss y/l/n needs it for tonight.” Her voice is strong and unwavering, determined to get a table tonight. She’s been throwing your name around left and right hoping that someone would know who you were. It all felt too pretentious for your liking but you couldn’t control Ashley when she was like this. 

You were sprawled across your hotel bed, scrolling through instagram. The voices inside your head were screaming to look at Hugh’s page, just a peak. Last night after you saw the comment, you practically threw your phone across the room, too afraid to look at it again. You're honestly thankful for that reaction because who knows how long you would have stayed awake thinking about it and diving into his life. You did make that quick google search to see just how old he was but that was the end of your exploration. 

Your fingers moved faster than your brain could process, typing his name into the search bar and clicking his profile the second it popped up. You didn’t have to scroll far into his account before your heart started to race. You clicked on a mirror selfie he had posted of him in his wolverine costume with sunglasses on. The pose and the caption really showed his age but for your sick brain, it made everything about him even sexier. You cautiously swiped out of that picture to prevent an accidental like. The next picture to catch your attention was one of Hugh in the trunk of a car. Your eyes almost jump out of your face with your tongue rolling onto the ground like the cartoons. The size of his arm was insane. You weren’t one to go for muscular men, but Hugh could choke you out with that arm any time he wanted to. His smile was so dreamy. You hadn’t seen Deadpool and Wolverine yet, not really having interest before, but now you might have to take a solo trip to the movies. You were cooked.

“Thank you, I’m glad we were able to come to an agreement. Yes tonight at 8pm.” Ashley is hanging up the phone and lets out a high pitched squeal. 

“How do you do that?” You’ve always been amazed at her negotiating skills and her ability to get whatever she wants. 

“Natural talent..also having a famous bestie doesn’t hurt.” She giggles and checks the time. Her laughter turns to a gasp. “We have to get ready, it’s already 6pm!” She’s gathering her things and as she’s rushing out of the door, she’s telling you that she’ll be back soon to get dolled up together. 

You had to learn how to style yourself over the past year of being in the limelight. Fashion was something you had been interested in but in Minden, if you dressed too out of the ordinary, people would stare. You shied away from it for longer than necessary and only recently learned how to express yourself freely thanks to your stylist, Kat. For dinner, you picked out a lengthy fitted black dress. It had the prettiest floral pattern that covered it with butterflies popping up here and there. What sold you on the dress though were the two frilly pieces of fabric that hung on either side of the dress. It was stunning and it looked even better on you. You decided on letting your hair sit in its natural state, not caring to put much effort into it. 

When Ashley came tumbling back into your room, wearing a red fitted dress, the two of you put some music on and got to work. You weren’t going for a super complicated makeup look, simply deciding on a small winged eyeliner, mascara, a dark blood red lip stain, and a hint of blush. Layering a few necklaces and adding some hooped earrings, your look was almost complete. All that was left were a pair of black heels that had two strings that you effortlessly swirled around your calf tying it into a cute bow at the top. 

“You look smoking hot! Let me take a picture of you.” Ashley whistles and grabs your phone to take a few shots. She was right, you looked good. You decided to post one of the pictures of your instagram story with a small caption that said ‘dinner time 😋’. 

What you loved about Ashley is that she took your fame with a grain of salt most of the time. When you wanted to take an uber or taxi somewhere, she never complained. You often got tired of taking private cars everywhere, wanting a little normality when you could get it. The uber ride over was a quiet one, both of you too focused on the view outside of your own windows, soaking in the reality of being in Europe. 

The restaurant was gorgeous. It wasn’t over the top fancy with normal everyday people littering the dining area, it was nice. Ashley and yourself were in quiet conversation as you looked over the menu. Feeling adventurous, you asked the waitress what she recommended and you ended up ordering the dish. Sipping on your espresso martini, you took a moment to feel grateful for the life you got to live. 

“Oh you have got to be kidding me.” Ashley is sighing with a slight roll of her eyes. 

“Good evening y/n.” A voice is approaching behind you before you could question Ashleys sudden annoyance. It was a voice you recognized, hearing it the day before. You turn around to see Hugh standing behind your left shoulder and you stand up to greet him properly. You’ve gotten accustomed to hugging almost everyone you meet nowadays, you lean in without thinking. 

“Oh my god! Hi Hugh.” There's a big grin on your face. It felt like a sign that you were seeing him again. 

“I don’t want to bother you ladies for too long. I recognized your dress and wanted to come say hi. I also wanted to apologize for bringing up Pedro yesterday, it was rude of me to do without even introducing myself first.” He lets out in his gruff voice, accent strong. His arm and yours are still interlocked in a weird side hug type of position. 

“It’s totally fine, you didn’t know.” You look into his eyes with utmost sincerity. “Oh uh, this is my best friend Ashley. Ashley, this is Hugh.” He breaks the side hug to reach to shake Ashley’s hand. 

“Nice to meet you.” Hugh lets out and Ashley responds with a short ‘you too.’ You give her a look that says ‘be nice’. 

“Well, I’ll get out of your hair. It was really nice seeing you again sweetheart.” He smiles down at you.

“It was nice seeing you again as well.” 

“Here let me.” He’s motioning to your chair. You take a seat and he's pushing it forward for you. 

“Thank you.” Looking back at him with a shy smile. He gives your shoulder a squeeze of acknowledgment and he’s walking away. 

“Maybe the universe does want you with a man old enough to be your grandfather. I mean what are the fucking odds of running into him at a Gordon Ramsay restaurant.” Ashley lets out in total disbelief. 

You don’t say anything, you give a sly shrug instead. The rest of the dinner is tame. The food was delicious and you felt woozy from the martinis you’d been downing. Ashley let you know half way through the dinner that Hugh was sitting not to far from us and that he ‘had a fucking staring problem’, her words exactly. It made you giddy to think he was looking over here and if you begged Ashley to trade seats with you it was no one else's business. She obviously refused and you spent the rest of your time focusing on your friend, with Hugh sitting in the corner of your mind. 

When you got back to the hotel, you immediately stripped yourself from your heels and dress. Laying in the bed in nothing but your undergarments, you opened instagram and took a look at your story one more time, wanting to see just how good you looked. It was shallow for sure but it made you feel good. You saw the hearts flooding the bottom of the screen and decided to swipe up to see who had liked it. As you scrolled nothing really caught your attention until that name caught your eye again.

“I recognized your dress and wanted to come say hi.” 

What the actual fuck.

thank you for reading <3

part three

series taglist: @chronicallybubbly @spideybv28 @pear-1206 @robertthehoover @reidsworld @bloody-bunni666 @quillycrow @kythefangirl25 @bluetimeombre

I think I got everyone tagged that asked to be! If you want to be added/removed let me know. <3

[semification]

- DIE WITH A SMILE . . . VERITAS RATIO ✧.*

Veritas comes to realize that he loves you, but perhaps he comes to that realization far too late.

content: fem reader, death, penacony quest spoilers, angst with comfort (?), blood & injuries, veritas is a meanie (but he INSTANTLY regrets it!1!), friends to (grins evilly) …lovers

authors note: first fic on this account i hope you guys like it <3 i ran out of motivation while writing this halfway can u tell. anyways go stream die with a smile by bruno mars and lady gaga because i was listening to that song on loop while making this fic and i think its a super fitting song for this hehe

wc: 5.9k (its a quick read i promise)

masterlist

“You’re being ridiculous, Veritas.”

Bickering with Dr. Veritas Ratio was not out of the ordinary. In fact, it was a pastime for the two of you, engaging in various academic debates to see which party presented a better argument. It was seen as a great deal of praise to be able to do such a thing with an esteemed man like Veritas. It made it seem like you two stood on the same ground–the same ground of a man who felt so out of reach.

“Oh, really now? I’m the one being ridiculous? I am ‘ridiculous’ simply because I am looking out for your safety, Y/N?”

This… however, this was not normal. This quarrel felt personal, stemming from your feelings instead of facts and objective data. This felt like an attack on your friendship–but from the amount of vile he’s spitting from his mouth, you wonder if Veritas has ever considered you as a friend in the first place.

The more he speaks, the more you are reminded that you didn’t stand on the same ground as him. You felt terrifyingly inferior, and even though he was right in front of you, you felt like you were miles away from him. 

“No, I’m saying you’re ridiculous for calling me weak and incapable because apparently, I’m not good enough to go on this expedition when it’s my fucking job.”

However, you mostly felt like a fool.

You felt like such a fool for falling in love with a man like him. You fell in love with him because of his neverending thirst for knowledge. You fell in love with him because you were just as much of a bibliophile as he was. You fell in love with him because you wanted to spread your knowledge around the universe as much as he wished to. You fell in love with him because, for a moment, you thought he saw you differently from everyone else, and that he truly enjoyed being in your presence.

You turn away from him, tears forming in your eyes. You stubbornly blink them away, because you think back to what started this argument in the first place.

You had just finished detailing your mission to Veritas, which was your routine every time the Intelligentsia Guild dispatched you on some kind of research expedition. This mission was different, however. You would be gone for three months, longer than usual–and the mission was very combat-oriented and dangerous, which wasn’t like your usual expeditions. Despite the warnings, you still accepted it, thinking of it as something new, but nothing that you couldn’t handle.

Veritas seemed to think otherwise, however, because when you peer over to look at his reaction, he looked very displeased. 

(It wasn’t a very uncommon look to see on his face, but you could tell he seemed more serious–like how the frown lines on his face were deeper than usual.)

You weren’t particularly surprised by the expression on his face. What surprised you the most was the first thing that came out of his mouth after hearing your expedition’s rundown. “Are you sure you’ll be able to go on that mission?”

You look at him incredulously, surprised at the amount of distaste in his voice. His displeasure was directed at… you? “What is that supposed to mean, Veritas?”

“I’m saying that you’re too weak and incapable to go on that expedition, Y/N. I do not know why the Guild would assign you such a difficult mission. They truly are overestimating your power.” The words came out of his mouth so casually, like you had just asked him about the weather. Is this how his students feel when they take his infamous course with a passing rate of a mere three percent? How his students feel whenever they get scolded by him?

You just can’t believe it. He said those words like it were a fact—straight from the myriad of encyclopedias that he’s read. Maybe because it was a fact in his head: he saw you as nothing but “weak” and “incapable”.

A stray tear manages to escape from your eye, and you quickly wipe it away angrily before turning back to Veritas with a sniffle. No. You cannot cry in front of his face. Crying is an expression of weakness–of vulnerability. And what you are trying to prove to Veritas is that you are not “weak”. You are not “incapable” either, and you are going to prove that to him by going on this mission and making him eat his words. 

“I will be leaving in three system hours. Do not bother showing up during my departure.”

You cringe at the way your voice shakes at the end, but you stand firm. Those words were the last thing you said to him before leaving his office with a bitter heart. When you exit his room, you finally let your emotions run free, letting the tears stream down your face without end. You quietly sob as you retreat to your own office, closing the door and letting out a shaky exhale, escaping all the nosy whispers and chatter of the Guild members.

You sob at the heartbreaking realization that just when you think you’ve gotten close to the “untouchable” Veritas Ratio, he pushes you away just like how he does to everyone else… because that’s just simply what you are to him. 

Another person who fades into the background, and nothing more.

Dr. Veritas Ratio is a man who exhibits prestige and greatness like no other. Throughout his academic career, he obtained eight PhDs and graduated with the First Class Honors Degree, which hadn’t been awarded to anyone for two Amber Eras. He was gifted with knowledge, and now he uses that knowledge and spreads it far across the cosmos to “cure idiocy”, treating it like a disease that needs to be treated.

And yet, for once in his life, he refuses to admit it out loud, but he’s acted like the one thing that he completely loathed. The very thing that he was trying to exterminate.

An idiot. He was an idiot, and it was all because he could not word himself correctly when he spoke to you. He has written hundreds of papers, essays, and dissertations, but time and time again, he could not seem to think—to be able to formulate the proper words to say when it came to you.

And now, Veritas has royally messed up, and for once in life, he has no idea what to do.

He was just genuinely concerned for your safety. It was all he thought about once you had finished detailing your expedition to him. He wanted to convince you—to pick the right words to say so he could persuade you not to go, but it seems that his fear of being seen as vulnerable shone through first. It reminded him of the days when you two weren’t close; the days he spoke to you while wearing his alabaster head.

He only wears that head because he “can’t bear to see idiots,” but given how he just called you “weak” and “incapable” in the argument that just transpired, one could almost laugh at the hypocrisy of it all. Veritas may as well talk to himself while wearing the alabaster head.

Because only idiots would address you with those terms. 

You were an enigma to Veritas from the very beginning. People from the Intelligentsia Guild rarely stood out to him, but you were different—sticking out like a sore thumb the moment he laid his eyes on you. 

That’s because your presence utterly enchanted him—you had similar tastes in literary works, you matched his sarcasm and topped it off with even wittier replies, and you also wanted to use your knowledge for other people to learn.

You were not weak and incapable. He saw you as anything but that, in fact. He was at fault for the argument, but he can’t bring himself to say it out loud, for Aeon’s sake.

He knows that he owes you an apology, it’s the least he could do... He just needs to apologize, then convince you to not go on that expedition. You’re scheduled to leave soon—approximately two and a half system hours—he still has time.

And yet, his mind is being stubborn. He knows that he needs to apologize, but he just can’t bring himself to. He can’t remember the last time he’s genuinely apologized to someone—an apology without a trace of sarcasm at that.

“Trouble in paradise, doctor?”

He could recognize the esteemed gambler’s voice from miles away, and it irks him how he always seemed to show up at the worst times. Aventurine’s got a knowing gaze on him—a stare that can pierce through any poker face so he could see exactly what they’re thinking. “I suggest not meddling in any business that doesn’t concern you, gambler.”

Except he’s already got him. “This is about Y/N, isn’t it?”

Hook, line, and sinker.

Aventurine believes that one’s eyes are the windows to the soul–and he doesn’t miss the way Veritas’ eyes soften when he says your name, smiling at the unintentional answer to his question. He definitely doesn’t have the best poker face in town. For such a stoic man, he surely cannot put himself together when it comes to anything that has to do with you.

Aeons. Just what were you doing to him?

There was no use hiding it from him, so he just silently nodded, with Aventurine clicking his tongue. “Rumors fly fast in the guild, especially when Dr. Ratio’s dear friend Y/N was seen walking out of his office crying. I just had to see what this was really about, you know?” 

You were crying when you left?

He doesn’t voice his concern out loud, of course. Instead, Veritas just sighs heavily. “All I wanted to do was convince her to not go on that mission that she’s currently dispatched on. It just seems… far too dangerous.”

Aventurine’s got an idea of what happened next considering how you ran out of this room crying, but he decides to ask anyway. “Oh? And how did that work out for you?”

Veritas refuses to meet his gaze, his heart sinking when he simply thinks about what happened earlier. “…”

“At least humor me, doctor.”

He turns away from Aventurine completely, a deep shade of red coating his cheeks. Was it out of embarrassment? Shame? Whatever it was, he didn’t need him to see it. “…I called her weak and incapable.”

When Aventurine doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, Veritas speaks to fill the silence. “I admit, I did not know what was going through my head when I addressed her with those words.”

The uncomfortable silence drags on for a little longer until it’s interrupted by the piercing sound of Aventurine’s laughter. His laugh makes the red spread across Veritas’ cheeks even more—uncharacteristically so, especially since he’s normally so put together. He doesn’t even have the heart to tell Aventurine to stop laughing, because a small huge part of him feels that he deserves this.

He deserves to sit through this feeling because he knows you faced the same humiliation when he shut you out.

“Hahaha! I can’t—“ Aventurine’s nearly keeling over in laughter, and the gambler swears he could feel tears build up in his eyes. “Oh, please! You have such a way with words, don’t you?”

Aventurine continues, failing to conceal his hysteria. “Weak and incapable? If anything, that’ll only fuel the fire. She’d want to go on that mission just to prove you wrong.”

“I’m well aware. It is exactly what happened after all.” You’re leaving soon. The thought of you leaving makes Veritas’ stomach churn, and he has no idea why. Out of all the many expeditions you’ve been sent on, this is the first time he’s felt this way–been filled with so much dread.

“Well,” Aventurine pretends to think for a moment, putting his hand on his chin. “It won’t hurt to sacrifice a little bit of your already enormous ego to apologize to her, no? There’s enough of your pride to go around.” 

I don’t know if I can bring myself to.

Veritas doesn’t say those words out loud. Instead, he masks his worries with a scoff. Aventurine doesn’t have to know. “Watch your mouth, gambler.”

“Oh my, I really struck a nerve there, did I?”

“Researcher Y/N? I’m sorry sir, she just departed a few minutes ago.”

You left.

The three system hours hadn’t even passed yet—there were still two hours before your scheduled departure—and you left early.

You left, and he didn’t even get the opportunity to apologize. 

The researcher could only watch as the great Veritas Ratio, normally so composed, looks away from him wide-eyed and mouth slightly agape. He’s utterly dumbfounded, a look that is never seen on his face. What is he supposed to do now?

You’re too late.

For the next several weeks, Veritas could only wait anxiously for your return. Worry follows him like a cloud, and even his students pick up on his weird behavior. It’s all so grueling—waiting for you without so much of an idea of how you’re doing or if your expedition is going well. 

While waiting for your return, he plans out his actions for the next time he sees you. He doesn’t want to apologize over text–Veritas sees it as inappropriate and prefers to show his sincerity in person. Face-to-face is how he is going to do it, and he sends you a message in preparation for that. “I’d like for us to talk when you’re back. Please message me immediately upon your arrival.”

…Except an error message stares at him back when he presses the send button. It’s almost mocking him in a sense, like the universe is doing everything in its power to prevent him from atoning for his mistakes. Of course you weren’t going to have signal when you’re so far away from him. Just what was he expecting?

You were scheduled to return after another few weeks, and Veritas could only prepare for the days to pass by excruciatingly slowly. Until then, he thinks over what he’s going to say for his apology. Maybe he could give you something too. He thinks that finding a way to get your favorite flowers is a nice start.

You’re tired.

Exhaustion envelops you like a blanket, and after trying your hardest to resist, you just can’t anymore.

You’re so tired. 

You finally succumb to the fatigue, falling onto the ground as your sword clatters with a thud. You lay there, lying in a pool of your own blood, accepting that this was the cruel fate that the great Aeons above bestowed upon you in the end. You laugh at the absurdity of it all, but it only comes out as a weak cough, which quickly transitions into a fit of hacking up crimson droplets—lighting your throat on fire.

It was a fragmentum monster ambush. The planet you were exploring contained a lot of them–mainly due to the Stellaron corrosion that it was experiencing. After three weeks of exploring, it was supposed to be just another day of collecting data and extracting information for the guild. You’ve done this countless times already–anything out of the ordinary happening was beyond you.

The ambush had occurred when you least expected it–you barely even had the time to draw out your sword. One thing led to another, and at some point, there were just too many of them that leaving the battle unscathed was out of the question. And at the end of it, you were a mess, standing in a field of bodies with blood sticking to your clothes–a mix of the fragmentum and your own. The worst part was that it was mainly your own, with the source coming from a deep gash in your abdomen. You were losing blood at a terrifying rate.

Panic fills your veins once you fully process the gravity of the situation. Heart thumping, you realize that you’re going to die–and you are going to die alone.

What a pitiful end this was.

You’ve sent a distress call to the guild, but you know that your fate has been sealed already. You’ll be long gone before anyone will be here to help you, and they’d just be here to clean up your remains. You hope that the guild would at least grant you a proper funeral.

It’s truly comical how fate works. People your age are usually too busy thinking about marriage, or deciding how many kids they want to have in the near future. And yet, here you are, on the precipice of reaching death’s door, thinking about your funeral. 

Your vision turns blurry, and you sniffle as hot tears begin to roll down your cheeks. Fuck, you don’t want to die. There are far too many things that you haven’t done. And yet, you can’t find the strength to continue on either. You’re just so, so tired.

In the midst of your cries, you softly mumble out a name. A name that you love, hate, and everything in between with a passion.

“…Veritas.”

You initially wanted to go on this mission with the intent of exploring this planet, but after the argument, you know you went mainly because you wanted to prove him wrong.

You wonder if he truly meant those words. Even if he didn’t, maybe he was right, because look at what your determination had cost you–lying in a pool of your own blood, all because you wanted Veritas to see that you weren’t weak and incapable.

Even though you went on this expedition angry at him, (a part of you still is angry) you’ve never wanted to see him so badly in your life. You were going to die with many regrets–perhaps the biggest one was that you never got to tell Veritas how you truly feel about him.

You just want to see him once last time. Is it selfish to ask for one more day with him? One more hour… or to engage in at least one more heated debate. Hell, you’d even take one more minute with him. And in that minute, maybe you’d slap him in the face for what happened. But maybe you’d tell him you love him and kiss him over and over, apologizing for even thinking about slapping his stupidly perfect face. 

Despite how much of an asshole he can be at times, you love Veritas Ratio. You love his snark and sarcasm and everything about him, and you’re going to die without even knowing if he loves you back. This is your biggest regret.

No, you can’t die like this. You need to tell him. You have to.

As darkness starts to cloud your vision, you use all of your remaining strength to pull your phone out from your pocket despite the wound in your abdomen screaming in protest. Your fingers shakily make their way to Veritas’ contact, and with a pained breath, you begin to type.

“Take me to where she sent the distress call, now.”

There was a bunch of commotion in the guild—too much commotion considering how early it was. Veritas could only wonder what all the clamor was about, but he froze once he heard your name leave one of the researcher’s mouths. 

And his biggest nightmare is now a reality once someone finally fills him in on the situation: Your signal had disappeared off the radar, but not after you sent a distress call to the guild. You needed help, yet you were so far from his grasp. “But Doctor, we-“

“I need not repeat myself. Her life is in grave danger, and yet here you are, arguing with me and wasting precious time when this time could be used saving her.” His words surprised both himself and the guild member, who shakily nodded at his request. Veritas was certain that if you were just anybody else, he could have less of a care about your distress signal. But no, this was you—and he needed to make sure that you were okay.

Veritas looked calm and collected on the outside, but on the inside, he was falling apart. Calm yourself, you need to be the strong one in this situation. She’s the one in danger here.

Aeons, all he had to do was convince you to not go on this expedition. Instead, he made everything worse with his poor choice of words, and now he’s paying the price for it. He could only hope that he wasn’t too late.

Wait for me Y/N. Please. That’s all I ask.

In his office, there’s a bouquet of your favorite flowers resting on his desk, and they’ve slowly begun to wither away.

When Veritas finally arrived at where you were last seen on the signal, there were bodies littered everywhere, and he could only hope that none of them were yours. Paired with those bodies was the color red—crimson was scattered all over, and it was practically all he could see. Did you take all of these fragmentum down by yourself?

As Veritas inspected all of the fragmentum bodies, all slain by a single blade, one of the researchers accompanying him pointed out a trail of blood leaving the site. It makes him freeze, because it might be…

“Y/N.”

Shit.

He immediately goes after the trail without an ounce of hesitation. The scene laid before him is something that has only haunted him in his nightmares, yet at this very moment, it lies before him as a terrifying reality. 

His blood runs cold, and for the first time in his life, Veritas Ratio is rendered speechless.

Your limp body lies in front of him, in a pool of so much blood that just seeing it sickens him to his stomach. He can’t feel his own body as he falls to his knees, paying no mind to the other researchers around him. No, right now, it was just you and Veritas. Nobody else.

With trembling hands, he pulls your body close to his own as your blood taints his clothing. Even though he knows you’re too far gone already, he can’t help but try to feel your pulse, because there’s a part of him that just refuses to believe that he’s too late.

There was nothing.

It probably hasn’t been beating for a while, and that thought leaves him utterly empty, with a single stray tear rolling down his cheek.

If he were just a little bit faster, maybe he could’ve saved you. If he could’ve just formulated his words correctly so he could convince you not to go on this expedition. If he could’ve just apologized…

If he could’ve just been… a better friend.

All these could haves, yet Veritas didn’t act on any of them.

Pathetic.

Your phone is beside you, and Veritas gingerly picks it up. The screen was still lit, despite it being shattered to oblivion. It was open to the messaging app—specifically his contact.

It was never sent due to poor signal, but you were messaging him before you died. He was your last thought.

“I’m sorry Veritas. I just don’t want you to think I’m weak and incapable.”

“Still, I want you to remember that”

You were the one apologizing to him, even after everything was said and done. He can’t even fathom that.

And weak and incapable, huh. You were anything but that. If anything, Veritas was the weak and incapable one. He was weak for not being able to swallow his pride even if he was the one in the wrong—and he was incapable of simply apologizing to you.

And the last message… What is it supposed to mean? 

What do you want him to remember?

When Veritas was sent to Penacony and matters with the head of the Oak family, Sunday, had been dealt with, he was finally allowed to leave. It was the first mission the guild had assigned him since you left, and his efforts to prevent Aventurine from going on an all-out suicide mission helped Veritas take his thoughts away from you, even if it was just for a moment.

And yet, you always find your way back to haunt him. Not even the Land of Dreams could prevent that.

Still, he had done his part, sorted out his deals in Penacony as a representative sent by the guild, and it was time to go.

It’s been a few months since your death, and Veritas thinks that living without you is like living without the sun. It’s funny how he’s only realized how much you’ve changed his life only after you’ve gone. You lit up his life, both metaphorically and physically—and now, everything feels so dull, and he constantly longs for your presence in the darkness. 

But now you’re gone, and he feels so terribly lost, even now as he does paperwork in his office. Life became way more monotonous after you had left. The quiet is suffocating, because Veritas can only think about the times that the quiet office was filled with your voice instead. 

Even now, in the rare moments that Veritas picks up a book nowadays, he thinks about how much you would have enjoyed it as well.

Paperwork is one of the few things that he finds solace in anymore, as it helps him drown out his thoughts so they don’t end up drifting back to you.

���You.

His eyes land on your sword before he can even do anything about it, and he swallows thickly. Your blade is displayed on his wall, another way for Veritas to show his honor for you. 

The blade you singlehandedly used to defeat all those monsters, and the blade you’ll never be able to wield again.

He tears his eyes away from it before his thoughts can spiral again. He can feel his vision start to blur, and he blinks the tears away before they escape. He wonders how many tears he’s shed for you since you’ve been gone.

Veritas tries and fails to focus on his paperwork once more until he’s interrupted by a knock at the door.

He thinks a walk will do him good.

He stands up from his desk and slowly walks over to his office door, wondering who it could be. He rarely gets visitors nowadays, unless it’s something that’s of utmost importance. Everyone else is afraid to talk to him, as Veritas became… colder after your death.

If anyone were to ask why—it’s because when you died, a part of Veritas did too.

He turns the door’s handle, only to see…

You.

You were standing right in front of him, in the same outfit that you were in the day you left for your mission. Except this time, you were alive, and Veritas has no idea what to think.

You’re the first one to break the silence, whispering his name. “Veritas?”

Hearing you say his name feels like he can finally breathe again. “Y/N? Is it really you?”

Before you can even answer his question, he engulfs you in a tight hug, breathing in your scent. Veritas held you like his life depended on it—because at this moment, it felt like it did. He says the words that hve been on his mind for the past few months. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry darling. If only I hadn’t-“

You pull back from the hug, putting your pointer finger against his lips as a signal for him to stop talking. Barely even registering the endearing name that he called you, you smile, cupping his cheeks before sighing tenderly. “I’ve forgiven you a long time ago, Veritas.”

He only hugs you tighter, coming to a revelation that only makes the pain in his heart ever worsen. He saw your lifeless body himself, he paid respects to your body at your funeral… and he laid your favorite flowers on top of your gravesite where your body rested, even though those flowers were supposed to be an apology gift. “You’re… not real.”

“I’m still in Penacony, right? This is all a dream.”

You smile, nodding in conformation. “Nothing truly gets past you, does it? You’re dreaming what you desire the most right now.”

“I promise you that we will meet again, Veritas. it will not be today, but the day will eventually come, and I’ll be waiting for you every step of the way.” You breathe in deeply. “But right now, you need to wake up from this dream, before it's too late.”

He’s not sure if he wants to wake up, though.

“But what if… I just want to stay here with you?”

“We both know it’s not what you really want.” You can see right through him. “If you stay with me in this dream, you’ll be living nothing but a simulated life. I may be here with you, but you’ll never truly fill that hole in your heart, because I am not Y/N. I’m just a creation of your deepest desires, and you know that I’ll never be her. That is not a life worth living.”

“I know she would want you to live your life to the fullest, to truly experience things, to teach your students unforgettable lessons… so they become great people like you.” You pause, looking right into his eyes. They’re filled with pain, sorrow, and the desire to cling on to the past. “And when your time comes eventually, she will be waiting for you. You will apologize once again, because you never got to apologize to her before she died, but she has forgiven you long ago, and it’s all because…”

Despite that, you have to teach him that it’s time to let go. “She wants you to remember that she loves you, Veritas Ratio.”

“Still, I want you to remember that… I love you.”

A tear rolls down his cheek at your words, and then another…. and another. “Even if I don’t know how to apologize?”

You let out a watery laugh, nodding your head. “Even if you don’t know how to apologize.”

“Then… I will do as she asks. It is the least I can do to make up for what I’ve done.” He says, and he takes a deep breath before his next words. “Can I… hug you one last time? Even though you aren’t… actually her.”

“Go ahead, Veritas. But I’m afraid that after this, you have to let go.”

You need to let go.

He nods before wrapping his arms around your figure. It was such a vulnerable act, like a man putting the entirety of his heart and soul out for you to take. He breathes in your scent, wanting to take it in once last time before he has to bid you goodbye. You feel a few of his tears staining your clothing, but you pay it no mind. 

How many tears has he shed for you since you’ve been gone? Not enough. He doesn’t feel that it’ll ever be enough.

When he opens his eyes, you’re slowly fading away from him. There’s a melancholic smile on your face, your eyes meeting his—filled with pain, sorrow, a desire to cling onto the past, and yet… a hint of acceptance.

“Still, I want you to remember that… I love you.”

Yes, he remembers. And he’ll remember your words for the rest of his life, until the moment that he leaves this cosmos on his deathbed. He’s just hoping that you’ll wait long enough for him to say it back.

Before you’re about to fade away completely, you lean in one last time and whisper to him…

“It’s time to wake up, Veritas.”

He wakes up from the dream pool with a gasp. The water splashes around him, and a few stray tears roll down his cheeks. 

The rest of his actual Penacony trip went by surprisingly smoothly, and he doesn’t mention the dream that he had to anyone. It was like a secret shared between you and Veritas–and he was going to treasure that secret forever. 

And now, the Charmony Festival has commenced, and the fireworks have begun. As he watches the sparks explode into thousands of dazzling rays of light above, he pulls out his phone to text you. Almost like one final goodbye, because he knows it’s what you would’ve wanted.

“I love you too, Y/N. I will love you my entire lifetime–past beyond the boundaries of eternity, even after all the stars long die out in the cosmos.

I long for the day that we will meet again… because then, I’ll finally be able to tell you this confession in person. For now, I hope you can continue to find the patience to keep waiting for me. 

…Until the stars align, and we’re able to see each other once again.”

He looks up to the endless bursts of blazing rays lighting up the night, mixed with the eternal shine of the cosmos. It was truly a sight to behold. And for a split second, he could feel someone by his side watching the fireworks with him. It warmed his heart, even if it were just for a moment. 

“Aren’t these fireworks beautiful, Veritas?”

“They will never be as enchanting as you, Y/N.”

[hereforthehitsbaby]

Hail to the King, Baby | Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: When Eddie Munson brought you into the Hellfire Club room on your first day of being new to Hawkins - you never expected to be on your knees for him. And Eddie never expected to see you the next day.

Warning: SMUT!!! Oral M!Receiving, Blow Job, Language, Public Sex, Cocky!Eddie, Reader is 18+, Innocence Kink, Praise Kink,

Rating: E - NO MINORS!!!

Author's Note: So I used to run a Stranger Things blog in 2022. I'm in a writing slump at the moment so I figured it would be cool to reupload my work from that time.

Word Count: 6.3K

How can the world fuse two people together who have not been on the best terms? Is it due to lack of understanding, or lack of care? It's funny when you think about it in depth. People are brought together everyday through different circumstances. Some work out and some don't, that is just how it is at the end of the day. But at the same time, those who don't have the intent on working out always do - for some reason or another. Opposite ends of the social spectrum - no matter social class or religion, they can make things work. Its the matter of setting your mind to the goal, to see where this whole ship can lead them - whether its a rocky start or a flourishing end. No one will ever know if there is no try. Life cannot strive forth without these instances. All you truly have to do is give the other a chance, and see how much they can change your world after all. it's easier said than done yes but, isn't that an adventure within itself?

That's always what you thought - no matter what walks of life you or others were in, the best and sometimes the strangest relationships/friendships formed. Each person you meet on the daily plays a role in your life, whether it is to be a background character for a moment, to stir shut up, or to even to bring you a whole new sense of living. All the ones you gave chances to are still around to this day within your social circle - whether they are rude and malicious, or caring and loving. You make space for everyone, and like to see the difference within each person. Sometimes it drained you to no extent, constantly having to feel the sense of putting your best front on or enveloping yourself within this person's life if they do not have the intent to stay. Maybe it has to do with you being such a people pleaser. There was something about having to have that acceptance with every walking creature on Earth - knowing where you came from, where you grew up - they never gave you the positive reinforcement you needed. Abuse laid in its wake; You wanted to break that cycle.

When Hawkins, Indiana became the hub of cursed activity - you thought it was in a metaphorical sense. The countryside almost, more greenery and wildlife than you were use to. Growing up in the big city didn't give you that freedom like this small town could. So, you did what you could in your 1978 Buick Regal - packed everything you had and made the trek close to 600 miles away. You always loved ghost stories, quaint towns, and lively people - Hawkins seemed to call you quickly. Graduating from High School, and College before the age of twenty was remarkable in cases, landing you great opportunities. But in a way it isn't what you wanted - you wanted to explore, to adventure - to do sporadic moments on whim. Exactly like you're doing to this day - Hawkins was your post-bachelor's trip, now becoming your permanent home. You had no idea what it was but, something about Hawkins just stuck out to you, a calling almost. As if a darkened voice invaded your ears to say come home, though you are not from there. It would be where you made your roots, you could tell. Away from the hustle and bustle - away from the world.

It's when you arrived in Hawkins that things took a turn - you couldn't tell if it was for the better, or for the worst. There was this oily sheen that ran over the city, masking it as if it once was, rather than what it currently is. Downtown Hawkins held strips of businesses directly next to one another, slanted parking spots and lively chatter. A normal, unconvinced small town. They were like everyone else - poofy 80's hair, jeans, windbreakers - the whole nine years. Everyone looked happy; Sane. The more you drove through Hawkins you got to see that it wasn't all business - but pleasure too. Lovers lake, the lush greenery of the roads. Hell, even the schools looked great. It reminded you that you were on your last year, and needed to graduate in order to move on with your life. Being as young as you are, its difficult to make a name when no one takes you seriously. You had to learn from the locals, the ones who everyone despises - how to get passed that tomfoolery of dismissing your achievements. You would make them see, how could you not?

A Wednesday night in Hawkins had to be bumping - considering the influx of cars maneuvering their way into the high school parking lot. Earlier in the day when you had taken a tour of Hawkins High, you didn't anticipate to be coming whilst in the midst of a tournament for basketball. Hawkins was in the semi-finals as of this moment, if they won this game they would move on to the finals. A big thing for a small town - a big thing for a town that has lost so much in the last year. What could have been a better way to see Hawkins, than in full bloom? So many of its residence were sporting orange and green - waving small pompoms as if they were the cheerleaders - their enthusiasm lighting up the world. You couldn't help but smile, to feel engrossed in the atmosphere of what this school holds. It was tempting, enticing, and gorgeous. Something caught your vision though, to your right as you made a descend towards the funneled doors everyone was flowing through. A tall, slender figure with leather and denim, a chain in their pocket and a bandana in the back pocket of their jeans made their way through the other set of double doors, disappearing into the school. For a moment you wanted to chase the figure, but assumed it was part of the curse.

"Welcome to Hawkins, kiddo," you sighed to yourself - knowing exactly what your dad would say if he was still on this Earth. You didn't know this whilst attending Hawkins but, this is where your dad grew up, where he laid his roots. The original family of the small, tempting town - that is why it drew you in close, and snuffed out your past. You slid into the large crowd gathering inside, schmoozing through the bunch as everyone got their ticket checked. You on the other hand did not have to thankfully - since the guard from earlier told you it would be fine. Walking through the metal detectors at the front you pushed your way into the halls - seeing how bumping they were with excitement, and readiness. It was nostalgic almost, never getting to experience this for your own - but now even with being a smidge older it was lovely. You smiled wide as you followed the crowd into the gym - standing on the side of the bleachers whilst everyone found a spot. You weren't much of a stands kind of person, you'd rather stand by the door in case anything happens. Luckily for you, the spot was wide open and not as confined.

The last of the crowd started to come through and stake their claim on the wooden seats, sporting the Hawkins school colors as face paint and clothing - the cheers echoing directly next to you. The cheering started to die down when the principle of the High School made his way to the middle of the court - halting the bands movements. "And now to sing our National Anthem, all the way from Tennessee, Tammy Thompson!" He cheered, causing everyone to erupt into applause. The woman was pretty, curled hair that was slightly pinned back and gelled on the right side, Her white puffy jacket, Madonna lace gloves, and dangly pearl earrings were a statement within itself - her singing on the other hand, no one was ready for. As she began to sing the National Anthem, within the first second it was atrocious. You'd figure if Hawkins made it to the finals they would bring Tammy out - but maybe she was there for the semi-finals due to how appalling her voice was. In all honesty she sounded like a Muppet, a cross between Kermit and Ms. Piggy for sure. That was enough incentive for you to leave before your eardrums bled.

You quickly shuffled to find the exit of the gym, pushing the double door open hard to make it known someone was leaving. As you approached the vacant hallway, you were met with a nice - chill vibe spreading throughout the school. With everyone shacked up int he gym, it was easy to roam and not get yelled at. Hawkins High wasn't too big to begin with, one floor mostly but still large enough to hide. As you made two consecutive lefts in the building - you were met with the Stereo sound of Die by the Sword by Slayer coming through, causing you to bop your head. The large blackened double doors were clearly to the auditorium - every high school had one like this, plus the little plaque next to it gave it away. If someone was listening to Metal music in this school - then you had instantly found your people. Though you may not dress like a metal-head, you most certainly were. It was that preppy, and quaint exterior no one expected with a music taste like that.

Placing your hand on the door knob, you steadily pulled the blackened door open - being met with the instant smell of marijuana, paper and cleaning products. It was a whole wave of smells you needed to acclimate to, but what made it feel creepy was the elongated table awaiting on the stage, what looked to be a board set up with little figures. At the end of the table was a large Victorian Gothic-esque looking throne, reddened velvet cushioned for the chosen one. You snickered as you mentally made the remark, starting to move closer towards the stage. Each pass of the rows made you weary, wondering if someone was going to pop out and scare you, especially with how hard it was. But of course nothing did as you hit the bottom step. The closer you got to the table you could see the Dungeon and Dragons manual propped up for whoever the Dungeon Master was. All these small customized figurines and die laid on the game board, causing your eyes to twinkle. D&D was a game you loved playing back home, ever since middle school. It was exciting to immerse yourself into such gnarly campaigns, and reign victorious. It made you happy seeing it becoming more mainstream.

"Woah, so fucking cool," you let out with a smile as you trotted up the steps, standing near the throne as you crossed the stage. Overhead lights dimmed orange for ambiance, the drones of Slayer progressively got softer as your mind drifted to what each character meant - what the campaign must have entailed and so forth. You ran your fingers over the sanded edge of the table, feeling how sturdy it was in your grip. As for the chair off to your side, it was beckoning you forth to sit - to claim this spot as your own, until the players did show up. It made you smile seeing the excellent craftmanship of the throne, the blackened wood carved so intricately and beautiful. The velvet blood red cushion looked so plush, so soft. You could nap in this chair easily, if given the chance. "Hey! Yeah, no. No, no normies in my Hellfire Club," a sharp voice sprang up near you, coming from behind the curtains with a whole twelve pack of Pepsi, and a few bags of chips. You jumped at the booming voice, clutching your chest as you squeaked.

"I-I'm sorry!" You responded without thinking, always afraid of being caught. As you looked up at the man who spoke, you were taken aback by who it was. A tall, lanky figure. Brown hair that was the same softness and length as a lion's mane. Dark, obsidian eyes that showed every emotion possible. Full, beautiful pink lips. Leather and denim clad his torso as the devil on his shirt stood out perfectly. Darkened jeans with a chain connecting to the belt loop and wallet, a pirate skull bandanna hanging out of the back of his pants. Your breath was hitched in your throat as you came to realize, this was the figure you saw earlier coming into the school. This is my Hellfire Club. It all made sense now - you heard about the D&D club earlier on in the day but never connected the dots. It made your heard waver knowing kids got to enjoy the game without the satanic panic to back it up, and to have such an attractive leader made all the difference. Your body was frozen as you stared at the man, truly incomprehensible in this moment. "I-I got distracted." It wasn't a lie, you did. Tammy Thompson's awful singing made you flee to the auditorium - and boy were you happy you did so.

"I heard Die by the Sword play and got excited because Slayer is one of my favorite bands and Show No Mercy has to be one of their best albums, I couldn't pass that up especially since its so nostalgic for me and Tom Araya honestly is a bass god-" you rambled, causing the man to hold his hand up, trying to comprehend the words you were saying. "You, like Slayer?" He cocked his brow, crossing his arms over his chest. It was almost as if he couldn't believe the facts you knew, or that someone dressed as preppy could possibly enjoy it. But it wasn't the truth - he was more or less wondering where you had been all of his life, and how someone so genuine could have just sprang up in his life today. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you nodded, shy and innocent all of a sudden. "I-I do, I love Slayer. Second favorite goes to Iron Maiden. Judas Priest a close third. I-I'm sorry for interrupting, I will go. It was nice to meet you, though." You waved softly as you turned your eyes from the man, ducking your head and keeping your eyes down as you headed towards the stairs. "You don't...have to leave, if you don't want to," he replied, his tone softer than before.

Spinning slowly to gaze over your shoulder, you bit your lip gently, toying with it in between your teeth. "Are you sure? I-I don't want to intrude." You didn't but at the same time you wanted to know this man, see where he came from and what made him loved D&D, along with Slayer. He shook his head with a softened gaze, tilting his head to beckon you over. "I'm Eddie." Eddie, perfect in person as his name is in your head. You shot Eddie a bright smile, returning the niceties with your own name which made the pale man blush - smiling over to you gently. That tough boy exterior you were expecting did fizzle out quickly, and instead was placed by a giant teddy bear - the softest of men in Hawkins. "So, big Slayer fan - have you ever played D&D?" The question caught you off guard, the intimate silence both yourself and Eddie basked in was dissipating. Processing the question as you had, you nodded with a gleaming grin, ready to spurt off on how you loved the game, but decided to reel it back in. "I have - it's my favorite board game! I haven't played in close to a year but, my stats are pretty good - not to brag or anything." That seemed to light a fire under Eddie as he plopped down into the throne, sitting back whilst his elbows rested against the arm of the chair. "Oh yeah? Amuse me."

"Well," you started, moving closer to Eddie's side so you could tell him, running your fingers over the mimic figurines. "So my name is Thia Sondrall. I am a level 37 chaotic evil rogue dark elf with a range attack of 120 feet, who also wields the sun blade which is basically just a bitchin' lightsaber." The passion and happiness you had for Dungeon and Dragons truly beamed within your voice, causing Eddie's eyes to widen with amazement. He was not expecting you to be so high of a level, nor was he expecting you to have such amazing stats. "My nickname is Nat 20, because I only go for high with attacks." There was a brim of cockiness in your tone, which you had every right to be. It was fun after all, creating these sheets and bringing such a wonderful character to life. Thia was your first ever character you created, birthed into existence, she was your golden girl. It was official, you had blown Eddie's mind out of the water. D&D player, metal lover, he was in whatever heaven was said to be. "Where have you been all of my life?" He retorted without thinking, eyes shooting wide at his own comment. The redness on his cheeks amplified.

Your own eyes went wide with shock, but the smile on your face spoke other measures. "I was thinking the same thing," you beamed - tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you made your eyes connect with Eddie's. There was something else cascading through those mocha eyes of his - glints of golden flecks swimming in his irises. But besides the admiration, there was more. Desire. Lust. You couldn't differentiate the two - but you knew that he could sense it on you as well. "I saw you earlier when I first came in - honestly I was tempted to follow you and not attend the game. I am glad my instinct was right about that one." It sounded creepy in your mind but, it was the truth after all. You thought Eddie would have been skeeved out by your revelation but, he was not. In fact, his eyebrow slanted upwards as he tried to find the hidden message between your lips - trying to coax what you really meant out. Tilting his head back against the throne, he shot you a sly smirk, eyes wavering over your face and body. "Just my satanic powers bringing new victims in," he joked with a snort, waving his fingers around whimsically. It was an obvious joke but, you decided to play along with it.

Showing the shock of your face, you pretended as if Eddie was dragging your body forward, stumbling comically as you latched onto his chair. At first Eddie thought it was corny, but as you grew closer he laughed out loud - thinking it was the funniest thing he has seen in a bit. If someone could be as outlandish and funny as him, he loved it. As you snickered with him, he waved his fingers again, making them dance theatrically around your head. The closeness you two had was unmatched; A zing of energy flying through you to Eddie. You could tell he felt it as well, the way his eyes gleamed and glimmered for you. Bringing your eyes down to his lips, then back up to eyes - you signaled for what you were craving. The gap between your faces started to lessen as Eddie leaned over the arm on the left side, sliding his right hand to cup your cheek. Your eyes closed instinctively as you felt his supple lips pressed against yours, his hair covering your field of vision on the sides - engrossing you completely to his being. It had been a long while since you were last kissed, and you couldn't imagine a better person to do this.

The kisses slid from soft, sweet and shy at first - to pointed, passionate and direct. Eddie's lips moved feverously against yours, holding your face just a bit tighter to steady you out. Your left hand came up to his denim vest, harshly tugging on the collar to bring him closer. It's when Eddie's tongue licked at your bottom lip that you let out the filthiest whimper you could, causing Eddie to pull back, breathless. "Fuck, that was hot." The lust lacing his tone caused your eyes to dilate wider; Your breath started to pick up as Eddie ghosted his lips over the juncture of your neck and jaw, nipping lightly at the skin. A mewl released from deep down within your lungs, pulling you closer and closer to him. You could see your arousal soaking your panties beneath your jeans, rocking your hips slightly to break up some of the tension. Your hand found purchase on Eddie's leg, keeping you steady and from falling over. But little did you realize, you had grabbed a completely different section of him. The thick length, buzzing and throbbing within your grasp, twitched slightly at your grasp. It caused Eddie to omit a low growl, biting at your pulse point. A gasp ripped straight out of you whilst Eddie suctioned his mouth around the bite - soothing it with tentative licks.

You laced your free hand in Eddie's hair, yanking him back to see his lips swollen and glistening from kissing. Both of your labored breaths melded as one, his eyes as dark as the night above. Still in your crouched form, you slid your body around to the front of Eddie, pushing yourself under the table. Doe eyes of yours met his with passion, wondering exactly what the plan is. A charming, sensual wink was sent up to Eddie - giving him a small glimpse into what he is getting himself wrapped into. All Eddie could do was nod rapidly, moving both of his hands down to put your hair into a makeshift ponytail. The eagerness he placed helped out a lot; Your fingers moved to grab at Eddie's belt, pulling the opposite end through the loop and letting it fall open - moving nimble fingers to undo his top jean button, and yank the zipper down harshly. Upon opening the unzippered flap, Eddie's cock was already threatening to jut out of his red briefs. The strain providing his erection caused you to whine, wanting nothing more than to stuff your mouth full of the brunette. Quickly you slid your fingers into the waist band of his underwear, yanking down the fabric enough to let his thick length release from its constraint. A sigh of relief came out of Eddie, ready for whatever you'd give him.

Making your eyes look as innocent as possible was the goal, Eddie needed to see how soft you truly are. As he gazed down into your gorgeous eyes, he couldn't keep his mouth closed - he needed you to know; "So beautiful." The praise had your eyes almost rolling back, a fresh wave of your essence sliding against the cotton of your panties. You placed your hands in a triangle around the base of Eddie's heavy cock, stabilizing the muscular flesh whilst darting your pink tongue out. As slow as you could go, you placed one solid lick from base to top, sliding carefully over the thick vein. The underside of his cock binged and purged to your will, sputtering out some of Eddie's own seed. Right as your tongue came to lick around the mushroomed head of his penis, you angled it precisely to slot your tongue around his slit - lapping his precome up like it was nothing. Never did you once take your eyes off of Eddie's, watching how his whole face contorted with pleasure. His mouth hung open , eyes narrowing to keep his only focus on you. His thick, ring clad fingers grasped your hair tighter, swirling your head slightly to envelop his whole tip. "Sweetheart, I need you." You were not able to let Eddie fall to his own suffices, especially when he needed you.

Grabbing the base of his cock with your right hand, you sank your mouth over his length completely, sheathing it in between your lips. You felt the tip graze the back of your throat before you pulled up once more, swirling the first inch of him in your mouth. As you watched Eddie, you saw his eyes rolling into the back of his head, hips threatening to thrust up as you bring your mouth down again. Eddie was a goner; If he didn't get it before he got it now. The feeling of your tight, wet, warm mouth on him was driving him crazy. To keep you from gagging he had to do some serious intense holding, tensing his stomach so he couldn't thrust upwards. Each time you would pull back he wanted nothing more than to chase the feeling, engulfing his being with all of you. Between Eddie's grip on your hair and his sweetened sounds, you didn't know what was better. It was better than any song you had ever heard - he was truly magical. His moans slipped into whimpers and whines when you'd pull back - hearty and real when you would swallow him down. No one, and he means no one, gave head like you did. Though Eddie has only gotten a blow job once when he was fifteen, five years later you were giving his first a run for his money.

You created a steady rhythm with Eddie's hand movements and minuscule thrusts, meeting each one in tandem with the next. Sweat started to line the brow of Eddie, making his bangs stick thickly to his skin. The lights were warm around you, but your sexiness was making him clammy. He had never laid eyes upon a more perfect woman than yourself, and he was going to show you all the ways he saw your beauty. "Good girl, you are driving me crazy," Eddie let out a chuckle that slipped into a wholehearted moan the second you swallowed around his tip. That movement in itself made his hips snap forward, shoving his girthy length further down your throat. Due to rubbing against your uvula, it made you gag harshly as you pulled back, your eyes brimming with tears. You should've panicked but, you had to admit you loved it. As did Eddie, now holding your hair tightly to move at his pace. Your softness and delicate side was no match for him, it teased him, edged him beyond belief. Eddie promised himself he would make it up to you later, hearing the howls of Jeff and Gareth coming up the hallway. He realized in that moment, he was close to busting, but close to getting caught as well.

"Fuck me, sweetheart I'm so close-" Eddie let out before cutting himself off, gripping the back of your head. surging his cock deep down your throat. The action of Eddie made you moan quite loudly around his length, head so close to bumping against the top of the table. You loved the feeling of him deep within your mouth, using you for his own personal pleasure. You did not expect your first day in Hawkins High to be so dirty, but you were thanking whoever was listening for bringing you two souls together. Both of your hands rested flat against Eddie's parted thighs, digging your fingertips into the hardened flesh. You were willing to let Eddie ruin every hole your body had, marking them as his for all eternity. One day he would, after Hellfire he was going to show you what he was made of, and you would gladly accept. Hollowing out your mouth as Eddie's thrusts started to speed up, you were aiding in his release. He knew he would not be able to last; He needed you.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit!" Eddie screamed, holding your head over his cock as his high erupted. Digging your whole palm into his thigh you felt your throat contract around him, forcing you to breathe through your nose. Garbled moans and mewls slipped around Eddie's thick cock as he worked himself through his high - the salty musk of his seed coating your tongue and belly. Looking up at Eddie with tear stained eyes, you were drinking in his orgasm face - the perfect O his lips created as his eyes fluttered shut. His labored breaths only made your nipples perk, wondering how they would sound at his home instead. Each spurt from the tip of his cock was immaculate, gathering his seed on your tongue. Once Eddie had started to feel himself soften he carefully removed himself from you, watching how a few drops of his spend dribbled down your chin, taking his thumb he cleaned up the mess, and pushed it between your lips. But what took him by surprise was how he felt his sticky seed coating your tongue, bringing your lips further in to capture his ring as well. A wink was sent his way under the table as you swallowed down all he gave you, listing his thumb clean as well.

"You naughty little thing," Eddie smirked, a bright - whimsical smile on his lips, wide and proud. Licking your lips to relish in the taste of this dungeon master, you pushed forth to give him a short, sweet peck on the lips, bringing it over to his cheek and slightly stubbly chin. At his words you pulled back and nodded innocently, puffing your bottom lip out as you tucked his softened member away. "Maybe you should take me back to your place, and teach me a lesson." Eddie was tempted to say the least; If your mouth was that good he knew your cunt would be even better. He almost said fuck it and dipped from Hellfire but, he would never leave his brothers hanging. "Holy shit - Eddie fucking Munson - you dog!" A somewhat high-pitched voice let out, causing you two to look over to stage right. Standing in the doorway were six guys, ranging in age. Your eyes went wide, as did Eddie's, as you saw the others of Hellfire club gawking. "You absolute legend!" One of them cheered, as the other whacked the kid named Mike. Smacking him was the one named Dustin - who just so have happened to spoke first.

"Gentlemen, meet Lady Thia - our new teammate," Eddie smirked, pushing the throne back so you could step out from under the table. With your hair slightly disheveled, you patted it down as much as you could, waving to the six men standing before you. It was your turn to now be smitten, as Eddie once was. Watching you take his cock like a champ, then use that filthy mouth to speak to his friends, turned him on once more. But as he buckled his pants back up, he puleld over a chair just for you, sandwiching you between himself, and Lucas. To say the least, it would be an interesting night.

-----

To say the night went by in a blink was an understatement - it flew by so quick you could've sworn you were in hyperspace. After the epic win that was D&D with Hellfire, Eddie had shucked you into his van - wanting to pick up where you both last left off. The trek down to the trailer park wasn't too far - and with his uncle working nights at the plant it meant you two would be undisturbed for the night. Eddie kept on his promise and showed you fifteen different ways he could make you come undone; On him, beside him, over him - it was the best night of your life. When you both were too sticky and sweaty to do anything else, he curled right on into your body, letting you look your arms around him. Going to bed holding Eddie was special, but waking up being held by him was way better. Though his alarm blaring into your ears was not the best wake up call - but him giving you head was. To that, you wrote down your number for him, and told him when you'd be free next. He couldn't wait to take you out, learn more about you, and show you how serene Hawkins can be.

You wished that you were still in bed with Eddie, instead of putting your lunch away at your first day on the job. Lucky for you to find such a great position for the money - and hours as well. The teachers lounge at Hawkins High was definitely spacious and breathable, you know when teachers weren't chain smoking. Covering your mouth so you didn't have another coughing fit, you proceeded to shut the fridge and make your way to Mr. Jefferies classroom - ready to help the senior level botany class. It was exciting, the tingles spread throughout your fingertips as you started to cement yourself within Hawkins. You could see yourself settling down here, now having a reason too with this job, and of course Eddie. As the bell rang to switch classes, you finally made your way into the botany class, waving to Mr. Jefferies as you wrote your name on the board. Body after body started to file in; You were told the class only had about twelve students, so it would be a great start. Still, the nerves bubbled up within your stomach.

"I told you Jeff, I am not spilling shit about last night - that stays between her and I." You heard the conversation ring out with a familiar voice, but decided against it. You just missed him too much, that was it. Plus, you could still feel the pulsing of his mouth on your neck, branding a perfect purple o - that was a bitch to cover with concealer this morning. The warning bell sounded as the door shut with the last student, causing you to place the chalk down and clap the dust off of your hands. "Good morning class - we have a special guest here with us for the rest of the year," Mr. Jefferies began, motioning over to you, and the board with your last name on their. "She will be joining us as my teaching assistant, while she finishes out her masters degree in Education over Indiana State University." You were lucky Hawkins High was about fifteen minutes away from ISU, making it easier to wrap up your last year in school. This was going to be it, the start of the rest of your life.

"Hello everyone!" You beamed as you spun around, looking over the fresh faces in your new class. Instantly your eyes were drawn to the back of the class where one Eddie Munson sat - eyes wider than they were the day prior, mouth hanging open in disbelief. You felt the same gut punch as you stared into his beautiful eyes, not realizing that he would be one of your now students. Gulping down the lump in your throat, you pressed on; Eddie watched you like a hawk as you spoke. Jeff on the other hand found that to be so rich, snickering as he punched Eddie's shoulder. "Eddie you are a fucking legend! You banged the hot TA! Dude no one will ever live up to this!" It should have felt like a notch on Eddie's belt, knowing he was sleeping with the hottest person in Hawkins High now. But he felt more tension approach, wondering if this meant you wouldn't want to see him again. That was until you made your rounds with the pop quiz for the day, leaving Jeff and Eddie for last. "Mr. Munson, I am advised you are needing a tutor for Mr. Jefferies class this year?" You hummed as Eddie looked at you in disbelief, slowly nodding his head to not seem rude.

"Good, follow these directions. We have a lot to learn about each other, and botany," you sent a wink inconspicuously to Eddie, pushing the index card with your office hours, and your sticky note for him closer to his hand. He got the gist quickly, slipping it into his pocket without anyone noticing. As you slipped back to the front of the class, Eddie spun sideways in his seat to open the sticky note, wondering what it could possibly say. Your delicate handwriting filled out the entire page; The first line making his cock twitch. "Eddie the Banished - for your first quest this school year, I command you to answer my question. Am I wearing anything under my skirt today? If you think you know the answer, meet me during study hall in Room 211." His eyes were bugging out of his head, desire-filled and staring directly back at you. With a devilish smirk he flashed his eyes over your legs, trailing to the curve of your backside, knowing for a fact your panties were currently in his jacket pocket.

This wasn't the end of what you two had created last night, but only the wonderful beginning.

[2handsslan]

max verstappen // mv1 fic recs

———————————— 🏎️🏎️ ————————————

one shots

fluorescent - @scuderiahoney

“motorsport is a dog eat dog world, and you know that better than most. it’s not often you meet someone who understands, who shines a light on all the darkness, but max might just be the perfect person for it”

first loser - @itsgodepi

“in the wake of a disastrous race, you're caught under the media's unforgiving glare. your every move and word being dissected for days on end as you simply try to navigate your rookie year in formula one. It is just your luck that your opponent in this fiasco is none other than the famously outspoken max verstappen, whose relentless jabs only add to your frustrations”

zandvoort, nl - @frogstappen

“you watch max's home race from the red bull garage”

a different light - @userlando

"you weren’t just friends. friends didn’t touch you the way he did (or the one where max has an epiphany and realizes he's in love with his best friend)"

coming of age - @keerysfreckles

“in which a silly bet between the two redbull drivers becomes a reality when y/n wins the first race of the 2024 season”

tying you to me - @pierregazly

“[4 times] in which something coincidentally led back to max, and the [1 time] it turned out nothing was just a coincidence (in which everything has always tied max to you)”

denial is a man’s best friend - @marlenesluv

“ y/n and max have been friends since karting years, and now? now, they’re teammates at redbull. they are one of the best teammate duos in the grid, but what happens when max catches feelings?…or when everyone but them notices they are in love but themselves”

baby steps - @forteafy

“you've always been mercedes golden girl; your life and career have been set out in stone. all it takes is for your ultimate rival to change that all”

pick you up - @scuderiahoney

“when Max has one too many gin & tonics, you’re the one who picks (him) up, every time he calls”

temptations - @no-144444

“you and max are on break and things get out of hand. nothing like tmz to mess things up, right?”

never an interruption- @fastandcarlos

“you’re all ready to celebrate max’s win with him, only when you find someone already there to celebrate, you begin to question the role you truly play in max’s life”

little big fan - @thef1diary

“your daughter runs off while you were in the middle of grocery shopping because she spotted max, her favourite driver. meeting you, max wants to know everything about you and your six year old. so of course he finds excuses to keep meeting you, starting with inviting you to the dutch grand prix”

series

rule breaker series - @coff33andb00ks

“max has it all...right? besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. until... you moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles”

smau

yuck! series - @maxlarens - smau

“your aesthetic interest in max verstappen is purely professional, you swear”

won gold - @maxverstappendefender - smau

“olympic snowboarder!gf x mv1 (max being a complete simp for someone that doesn’t even know him)”

miami baby - @norrisainz33 - smau

“actress and avid f1 fan visits the paddock for the first time and she is a certain world champion’s celebrity crush”

worlds biggest fan - @astonmartinii - smau

“y/n is the president of the official max verstappen fan club, but nothing can come of that, right?”

*these are part of my fic rec masterlist, please note none of these are written by me and the author of each story had been tagged! check out my f1 fic rec masterlist for other drivers!*

[suntoru]

❝ I'VE LOVED YOU BEFORE, I'M SURE OF IT!❞

— SYNOPSIS: eons ago, the king of curses lost his lover. you're gone, you have been for years, so why is it that you're standing right before him?

— WARNINGS: reincarnation, death of servant, your death mentioned, blood, swearing, angst, fluff, ooc sukuna?, he's downbad, 3k words

— AUTHOR’S NOTE: HELP MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR SUKUNA IF U LIKE IT PLS LMK AND REBLOG!!

a face so familiar that in a sea of people, he'd recognize it instantly. he could paint a perfect picture from memory alone; how could he ever forget you? the only person he's ever grown accustomed to loving with every fiber of his being. the only person who's ever made the very king of curses feel weak. so then, why... why are you here once more?

impossible. it couldn't, shouldn't be you. he watched you slip away, felt your last breath against his skin, cradled you in his arms as your life ebbed away, the haunting reminder of the day he lost you. so why, against all reason, are you standing before him?

he can't deny the reality that it's truly you standing there, amidst the blossoms, with those delicate features that outshine even the brightest stars in the sky. the very essence of innocence radiates from your being, reflected in the purity of your gaze as you remain unaware of his presence, lost in the simple joy of picking dainty flowers from his meticulously tended garden. it's a scene so achingly familiar, yet impossibly surreal, as if plucked from a distant memory and brought vividly to life before his eyes.

his naive little lamb, blissfully unaware of the danger that lurks just beyond the edges of his meticulously guarded property. anyone could sneak up on you at this very moment, and you'd remain oblivious, lost in the gentle warmth of the sunlight as you hum a soft melody to yourself. do you not realize the trespass you commit with every step, the audacity of encroaching upon his domain?

for if you were anyone else, the ground beneath your feet would surely be stained crimson, a stark reminder of the consequences of such brazen intrusion. he scrutinizes your every movement, his gaze lingering on each delicate gesture as if committing them to memory. it's the first time in what feels like an eternity that he's experienced a semblance of peace.

sukuna, the embodiment of strength and power, finds himself perplexed by the profound comfort your presence brings him. he detests his own vulnerability, despises the notion of being beholden to anyone or anything. and yet, in the quiet moments spent observing you, he can't help but entertain the fleeting desire to hold you once more like the days he once treasured with you.

the fleeting moment of vulnerability dissipates in an instant as one of his ignorant servants, a mere fool in sukuna's eyes, rudely intrudes upon his garden sanctuary. with careless disregard, they trample over the delicate cecilias, the very flowers you were delicately picking.

"m-my lord, my humblest apologies," they stammer, their voice trembling with fear. "i don't know how an intruder got in, but i promise to dispose-" before they can finish their sentence, their head is swiftly separated from their body, the soft thud of impact echoing in the garden as it rolls to the ground. red oozes out, staining the grass crimson red as he stares at the body indifferently. tch. incompetence is met with swift and merciless retribution. how weak, how utterly weak. not only had that feeble intruder disrupted his tranquility, but they had also brought undue attention to his secluded sanctuary.

his gaze sharply turns towards you, contemplating whether you had noticed the disturbance, only to find your eyes innocently peering back at him. a surge of something unfamiliar courses through him as he meets your gaze. there you stand, so delicate and unassuming, clutching those flowers, studying him with a curiosity that unsettles and intrigues him in equal measure.

would you scream? run for the hills? yet, there's an underlying fearlessness about you, a quality he's always admired. part of him yearns for the recognition in your eyes, the acknowledgment of his presence, a desire for you to step closer, to nestle into his embrace and play with his hair, as if it were an annoyance he secretly craved, so long as it was from you.

"…would you like a flower?" you beam up at him, your smile radiant enough to rival the sun itself. holding it out to him, your eyes sparkle with genuine delight as you offer the delicate blossom. "it matches your hair. pretty." for a moment, he hesitates, towering over you with his imposing figure. yet, you show no fear, not of his unusual features nor his intimidating presence, not in this life and not in your past one either. with tentative movements, his rough, calloused hands brush against yours, accepting your gift.

he observes with a quiet fascination as your smile widens even further, a sight that warms a part of him he thought long dormant. almost instinctively, he restrains the urge to brush back a stray strand of your hair, watching instead as you take care of it yourself, a soft frown forming on your face as it catches in your lip gloss.

"it's funny," you begin, a playful lilt to your voice as you gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "everything here seems so familiar. tell me, have we ever met before? i feel like i know you from somewhere," you muse, studying his features with a curious intensity. there's a certainty in your tone, a sense of recognition that stirs something deep within him.

"no. that's stupid," he gruffly replies, brushing off your inquiry with a dismissive tone, though he can't ignore the flicker of amusement in your eyes. "ah, you're right. that would be impossible, wouldn't it? perhaps it was just déjà vu," you concede, your smile widening ever so slightly, there's a sincerity in your gaze that leaves him unsettled. he hates the way his heart stirs each time you do that, that... that thing with your face, he's seen it a thousand times before, that stupid smug smile. it's been a millennium since he's last seen it, and he finds himself silently admitting that he's missed it more than he cares to admit.

the one who shattered his harem, the one he believed he had lost forever. over the years of your absence, he had convinced himself that it was foolish to love a mortal. loving you was a mistake, he told himself. there was no void in his heart because of you; it was there to satiate his hunger for bloodlust.

yet, the mere sight of you right now, skin kissed by the sunlight shattered those self-imposed barriers, your voice carrying on about the flowers you held. peonies, daisies, lilies, roses—all growing in a small, vibrant garden. they were your favorites, adorning the white fence so beautifully. although he'd rather be caught dead then admit it out loud, it was dedicated to you, a silent tribute that reminded him of your presence.

in moments of turmoil, he found solace here, secretly seeking refuge amidst the blossoms, gazing up at the stars as if searching for your familiar constellations. what were they again? he had almost forgotten, and somehow, that notion was more unsettling than any sorcerer he had ever faced.

"oh, i almost forgot to ask, what was your name?" you giggle, looking up at him with an air of innocence. do you really talk to random strangers like that? you still are such an airhead. it seems you have no survival skills, but perhaps that's why he's always been so protective of you. "i am the king of curses, sukuna," he states, glaring down at you. it irks him, slightly, that even his name has been wiped from your memory. you really, don't remember, do you?

"sukuna... i'm calling you 'kuna from now on, 'kay?" you beam, and he lets out a weary sigh. how unoriginal. you used to call him that too, but anything else sounds quite strange coming from your lips.

"why are you here?" he grumbles, the question weighing heavy on his mind, not just in this moment, but echoing through the centuries. he wants to know why you've returned, why you've chosen now to reappear in his life after so many years have passed by. are you taunting his only weakness? how infuriating. you remember his old nickname, the flowers you once adorned his head with, but not him. is this some sort of game to you?

"i don't know," you answer simply, adjusting the crinkles in your dress. as the sun begins its slow descent, casting a warm, golden hue over the valley, you find yourself standing there, amidst the beauty of the landscape. "i just happened to stumble upon here," you murmur softly, your gaze fixed on the horizon, where the sky meets the earth in a breathtaking display of colors. the grass sways gently in the breeze, whispering secrets of days gone by, while memories of laughter and joy linger in the air like a bittersweet melody. his nose crinkles. what do you mean you don't know?

"what are you doing?" he hears your voice, sweet and soft like a distant echo from the past, a time when things were simpler, when you were by his side, filling his days with light and laughter. it's been hard without you, he realizes, a pang of longing tugging at his heart as he watches you standing there, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun.

he wants to reach out to you, to tell you how much he's missed you, how much he's longed for your presence all these years. but instead, he remains silent, a silent observer of the moment, as the memories of days gone by wash over him like gentle waves, leaving behind an ache in his heart.

"you're trespassing," he grumbles, his voice carrying a weight that extends far beyond the boundaries of his garden. it's a warning, a silent one for you to stay away, to spare him the agony of reliving the memories that threaten to consume him. but even as he speaks the words, he knows deep down that it's not just his garden you're trespassing into— it's his heart, too.

sukuna does not wish to love you, loving you hurts, it makes him what he hates the most, it makes him weak. once, long ago, he was foolish to love you. he never uttered those words aloud, but the way his gaze softened in your presence spoke volumes. you were the only one who managed to carve a place for yourself in his heart, a place he thought was forever closed off to the world.

he doesn't want to care about you. to him, you should be nothing more than a passing nuisance, easily disposed of if it serves his purpose. yet, as he gazes upon your innocent face, memories long buried begin to resurface, tugging at the frayed edges of his carefully constructed facade.

sukuna despises what you evoke within him, a vulnerability he thought he'd long since buried beneath layers of ruthlessness. as the sun caresses your features with its gentle warmth, he can't help but feel a pang of longing deep within his chest. it's a sensation he's tried to suppress, to bury beneath the weight of his power and dominance. after all, he's the feared king of curses, not some lovesick fool. but even he can't deny the allure of your presence, the way you effortlessly weave your way into the recesses of his darkened heart.

in the depths of his being, sukuna knows he shouldn't miss you. he shouldn't yearn for the days when your laughter echoed through the corridors of his mind. yet, despite his best efforts to cast you aside, a part of him remains tethered to you, unable to sever the invisible threads that bind him to your memory.

your love, once radiant as the sun, pierced through the darkness shrouding his heart, illuminating corners he never knew existed. it was pure, untainted, a beacon of hope in his desolate existence. even in his darkest moments, he couldn't bear to extinguish your light, for fear of losing himself entirely. but then, like a flickering flame snuffed out by a sudden gust of wind, you were gone.

the memory of holding you close as you slipped away, your warmth fading into cold nothingness, still haunts him to this day. yet amidst the pain, there was a promise— a whispered vow that one day, you'd find each other again. and somehow, against all odds, you did. but fate had robbed you of the memories that once bound you together.

he watches you now, your smile as bright as ever, oblivious to the love you once shared. it's a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that you'll never remember the depth of your connection, the intensity of the love that once burned between you. forgotten memories of your presence flood his mind, stirring emotions he thought long buried.

he should be able to snuff out your existence without a second thought, should revel in the sight of your blood staining the verdant valley, your cries piercing the tranquil air. but as you stand before him, oblivious to the darkness lurking within him, he finds himself paralyzed by indecision.

his soul screams at him to act, to rid himself of this weakness once and for all. but his heart, that traitorous organ, refuses to comply. how can you, with your pure heart and untainted spirit, still evoke such conflicting emotions within him?

sukuna prides himself on his selfishness, on his willingness to betray and manipulate to achieve his desires. and yet, in your presence, he finds himself questioning whether his desire to hold you close once more is too selfish, whether his darkness would tarnish your purity.

and a part of him wonders if you'd fall in love with him again, wonders how you did the first time. would your hands feel the same, tracing the contours of his face with that delicate touch? would your lips still taste as sweet, brushing against his with that familiar tenderness?

"'kuna?" you murmur softly, looking up at him to see if he's paying attention. and for a fleeting moment, he's transported back to a memory he holds dear, etched into the deepest recesses of his heart.

"'kuna?" you had called out one day, perched elegantly on his lap, nestled against him as if you belonged there. his hand, protective yet tender, rested on the small of your back, ensuring you remained secure in his embrace. your legs were tucked into his, absentmindedly toying with some strands of his hair. "hm?" he responded, his gaze half-heartedly softening as he met your doe-like eyes, a hint of amusement dancing within their depths.

"do you think in every universe, we're together?" you inquire, your voice tinged with a hopeful innocence that tugs at his heartstrings. he let out a scoff, a familiar gesture masking the warmth that blooms within him, his fingers instinctively threading through your hair as you playfully swat them away. you're so naive and innocent, believing in such stupid things.

"that's absurd," he retorted, though the corner of his lips quirked upward in a ghost of a smile, unable to deny the affection that lingers between you. love, he once believed, was a fleeting illusion, a mirage in the desert of existence. he scoffed at the notion of eternal love, dismissing it as a fanciful delusion born of naive optimism. how could love endure when humanity was plagued by sin, disloyalty, and obstinance? it seemed absurd to place faith in something so fragile, so easily shattered by the harsh realities of life.

"hey..." you pouted, your bottom lip jutting out in a playful display of mock indignation, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "well, i believe we are," you declare, a stubborn determination coloring your words as you stick out your tongue in defiance.

"such a meanie," you'd muttered under your breath, though your protest is laced with affection as he pulled you closer, enveloping you in the warmth of his embrace. and he's snapped out of his thoughts once more when he hears your voice cut through his memories.

"ah, i'm sorry," the present you sheepishly mumbles, catching yourself mid-ramble and rubbing the back of your head with an embarrassed smile. "i'm boring you, aren't i? it's getting late; i should be going."

with a resigned sigh, you glance up at sukuna, feeling a flush of embarrassment color your cheeks. you hadn't meant to prattle on to a stranger, especially one who felt so oddly familiar and comforting, like a warm, fluffy blanket on a chilly evening. as you start to move away, ready to bid your unexpected companion farewell, one of sukuna's arms shoots out, gripping your wrist firmly and halting your departure.

despite everything, you're still here, standing before him, a familiar presence that refuses to fade into oblivion, and he finds himself unwilling to sever the crimson thread of fate that you once fervently believed bound you together. he's unsettled of the idea of allowing himself to love you again, yet, at this moment, his greatest fear is not in loving you, but rather in the prospect of forgetting you altogether.

confusion flickers across your features as you look up at him, but he refuses to meet your gaze, his expression unreadable. the soft hues of the pink sunset cast a gentle glow over you both, and in that moment, you could swear you see a faint flush tingeing sukuna's cheeks.

he still considers you foolish for believing in an everlasting love. and yet, as he looks into your eyes, he doesn't believe an eternity with you would be too bad. in fact, he wouldn't mind it at all. he mutters gruffly, though his voice betrays a hint of annoyance, and yet, inexplicably, your heart leaps at the invitation.

"speak."

and with that stupidly charming grin on your face, you do.

© SUNTORU 2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[myladysapphire]

Two Halves of a whole

Aemond had always understood you in ways others could not, your bond so deep nothing could severe it. A bond so deep that they would do anything to save the other, even if it meant being trapped with the enemy.

based of this request

word count: 6,208

cw: MDI+, 18+, Smut, Angst, fluff, love conffessions, arranged marraige, cheating. (im so sorry Cregan i love you i swear), not proofread!

Aemond Targaryen x twinsister!reader (or Creaganswife!reader)

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

authors note: so sorry i haven’t updated in two weeks! ive been in such a writting slump but here is finally some work! <3

Aemond had always understood you in ways now one else had.

Born together, you had never seen the day apart. Your lessons spent together, your rooms shared until you where three and ten.

And even then that did not stop you form spending every moment together.

You were so similar, not only where you twins but it was almost as If you where the same person, two halves of a whole.

You were kind, where he was cruel.

Your were beautiful where he seemed himself ugly, no matter the words you spoke to call him otherwise.

Where he was bold, you where shy.

And where you thrived, he drowned.

But something shifted the day Aemond claimed Vaghar.

You had both been dragon less, teased for it and faced the constant bullying of your older brother and nephews.

you had spent days talking and studying dragons, and where Aemond started to loose hope, and yet you pushed him to believe he could claim a dragon.

And he did, the biggest and most fearsome dragon in the world.

And you were left behind in the process.

That night, no one told you of what had transpired until you were dragged from your bed and greeted with the bleeding face of your twin brother.

Your house divided, and your brother a changed man.

Form that day he became cruel and cunning, hellbent on being the best swordsman. the best dragon rider. Skilled and wise.

And though you where there for it all, helping him and watching. It was all from the sidelines. As if you only mattered when he was involved.

that’s what your family thought anyway.

Until you became of marital age, and your father decided a alliance with the north was necessary.

You had always thought you would marry Aemond, and yet here you where on your way to winterfell about to marry a stranger you had never met.

Your nephew Jace had talked of him often, recounting his days spent in Winterfell. And though he  sounded honourable and kind, you feared what it would be like to be apart fork Aemond, the man who was truly the other half of you.

even after years of drifting apart he was still everything to you.                                                                                                

“are you excited, aunt?” Jace asked, he and the rest of your family where all accompany your north, using the journey as a tour of Westeros.

“As one can be to be marrying a stranger I suppose” you mused, looking out of the window.

Whilst your siblings all rode their dragons around Westeros, you were forced to ride with your nephews and cousins, with dragons too small to withstand the long journeys.

“Cregan stark is a good man, I’m sure you with have a good marriage” Baela spoke, looking up from her book.

You scoffed, “so everyone has met him but me?” you mumbled to yourself, shifting uncomfortably.

“I always thought you would marry Aemond” Rhanea spoke up, she and you had strike a surprising friendship, despite her distaste for Aemond. Your common lack and want for a dragon bonding you both.

“As did I” you spoke longingly, looking up and seeing the shape of Vaghar in the distance.  

The rest of the journey was spent with minimal words spoken, and your eyes never leaving Vaghars form.

Ever since they announced your betrothal Aemond had been distant, still ever present as he was, but distant.

The day he had found out he had stormed out of his rooms and ignored you for the remainder of the day.

And though the day after he had carried out your old routine, it seemed different, strained.

Though Aemond was never a talker, he was never silent around you. If he didn’t respond with words, he responded with actions. Whether it be brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, caressing your hand, or bringing you flowers.

But since then, the casual touches or small gifts of flowers or your favourite snack or bringing you a book he thought you’d enjoy, stopped.

Conversation was strained, always ending on an awkward note, and when you had wished to confront him on it you had found he had gone to the silk of streets with Aegon.

You felt hurt, betrayed almost and yet it was you who was marrying another, leaving him behind, even if you had no choice in the fact.

And the tour had been even worse.

Your days spent in a carriage alongside people you hardly knew, with Jace and Luke the very boys who had once teased your mercilessly. The very people who had caused Aemond so much pain and even harsher words in the past years.

And yet you were forced to put on a pretty smile and put up with their chatter. Though had no quells with Rhaena, finding many conversation flows easy with her.

You felt all alone, stranded in a marriage yet to happen and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

The journey around Westeros was as long as it weas boring, full of lords trying their hardest to appease you father, spoiling you all with gifts and pretty words.

You were grateful once you started to visit the northern houses, they were honest, less kind, less welcoming and less inclined to spoil you with meaningless gifts.

It took six months, six months of travelling of Aemond being distant and eventually ignoring you altogether before you reached Winterfell. And met Cregan stark.

And though you could tell he was a good man and that there was no way to deny he wasn’t handsome, he wasn’t Aemond.

You got along well, though every smile or laugh was met with Aemond’s glare. His disapproving stare. His harsh words and even harsher steps as he followed you both through the halls.

He hadn’t said a word to you, but made sure you new his anger.

Even as he watched you walk down the aisle in the godswood and take Cregan as your lord husband.

After that day you felt perpetually lost, as if you had lost the other part of you, that you were never whole.

Perhaps it was because Aemond had left without so much as a goodbye, or that now there was no chance of you and Aemond getting what you both wanted.

Two years passed, two years in the north as Cregan’s wife, a babe born and not a single word or letter from Aemond.

You felt stranded in the north, with no dragon nor any dragon rider offering you an escape. Any letters took weeks to arrive, any news arriving long after the fact.

You heard little from anyone frankly, that’s why it was such a surprise to see your nephew Jace once more.

“Jace?” you questioned, as you walked into the great hall. He sat beside Cregan, clearly having spent the night.

You were shocked, no one had told you of his arrival.

“Aunt” he greeted in turn, his voice kind as he greeted you.

“What are you doing here?” you said, as you approached where they sat.

He looked over to Cregan, shocked you didn’t know he was here. “Your father…Viserys is dead”

“oh” you said, not feeling any emotion in particular. He had never been a father too you, always distant, treating you more like a cousin child, than his own. “did he- was it peaceful?”

“I don’t know” he said, as you finally took your seat beside him, “we had left Kings Landing before-“

“Is that why your here? My fathers death?”

Jace looked over to Cregan an awkwardly, “Aegon usurped my mother, I have been sent to remind the north of their oath.”

Aegon being king wasn’t a surprise, your mother and grandsire had been plotting for years to crown him since he was born. If anything, you were shocked that Jace seemed surprised by the betrayal, as if the court hadn’t been treating Aegon as heir for years.

“And as I told the prince, the north remembers” Cregan said looking over to you, his tone serious. “we pledge our loyalty to the queen”

“and if war comes with you plunge your sword into my brothers back, husband?”

“if it comes it it, aye”

You looked down and remained quite through the remainder of Jace’s stay, keeping to yourself, as you always did.

The harsh realisation that your husband would so easily kill your brothers hurt, even if they were traitors and usurpers.

You had never felt whole since Aemond left and you knew a part of you chipped away the longer he was gone, the longer he punished you with his silence.

And then news came, Luke was dead at the hands of Aemond. And you felt apart of you break.

The realisation that Aemond would not survive this war without erasing the entirety of Rhaenrya’s line.

You felt more stuck than ever.

Stuck with a husband plotting a war were the allegiance was split.

You had married Cregan in hope of uniting the north to the greens. But of course the loyal house stark would never wavier form their oath, even if it meant a wife forced to watch as her kin was murdered.

You hated this war, and it had yet to start.

You had been left in charge of Winterfell in your husbands absence, and you felt even more lonely without him. The one person who you had felt some stability from.

Your dreams was filled with blood and death, fear of what was to come. And yet another dream chased you. Flashes of blue flames, ice eyes and cold scales. A song sung through your mind, it had no words or melody, it was as if it were a secret language only your dreams could understand.

A storm raged on, leaving you locked inside and a feeling a dread filling your bones.

You couldn’t escape the nagging feeling, the feeling like something was very wrong.

You could scarcely see outside the window, let alone leave the keep. The snow thick and relentless, and yet you could make out a figure ever so slightly.

A dragon.

Large and far away, your mind hoped it was Aemond, though he would be a fool to travel north, especially in this storm.

And yet it seemed to pale, not nearly as monstrous or large.

It called to you, your eyes following if, unable to tear themselves away from the dragon.

Had it not been the call of your name from your maid, Lyra, you were sure you would have chased after it, its song luring you to were ever its layer sat.

“my lady” she started, her demeanour nervous

“what is it?” you questioned, finally pulling your eyes away from the creature.

“you have a visitor”

“who-“ your words were cut off as your twin strolled in, his yes firm, a hand gripping his sword “Aemond”  you breathed, your hand gripping at your chest.

“sister” he greeted.

You sent a look to lyra, sending her running, though she seemed relived at the dismal.

“my husband is not here”

“good”

“he pledged for Rhaenrya”

His gaze hardened, a smile gracing his lips “you betray your own kin”

You scoffed “me betray? You are the one who has not spoken a word to me since the day i was married, no letter no word! Even Aegon wrote me and yet you my own twin, the very man i have loved and been with since the day we were born, betrays me without a word all because I am shipped of in a marriage you very well knew I did not want! If anyone has betrayed the other it is you”

His gaze fell, his smirk falling, “you choose him-“

“by the gods! I had no say”

His eyes dropped their firm, “no…mother said you had chosen him and rejected my bid” “your bid? You bid for my hand?” you scoffed once more, “do you think that if I knew I had a choice I would have come crying, begging for your help?”

He seemed you look at you, look at you for the first time in years, his yes boring into you in a way you did not realise you missed.

Aemond had always been selifish and cruel, a man who only believed his opinion to be the truth and yet with you he was patient and kind, and though you saw a glimpse of the man others did see, you knew he was still the Aemond you had long knew.

Though the fact remained, as it stood you were on opposing sides of this war, and with no dragon and your son the heir to house stark, you were powerless to change sides.

But as he looked at you, and as you heard to coo of your son as he sat in his crib your mind went back to the day your life changed and Aemond drifted apart.

You knew the day was coming, word had been circling around court, suitors from throughout the realm had come to bid for your hand.

Though you in truth you only wanted one man, your twin Aemond.

It wasn’t wrong for you to assume that you and he would marry, it was within the custom of your house, you had always been close and he had practically been courting you for years.

With gifts an-d days spent walking the gardens, with soft words and caresses.

Though he never made his intentions clear, you were sure he was of the same mind of you.

And yet days spent whining about the men hellbent on following you, with cheesy words of love and gifts you already had too may off. It was all impersonable and endlessly repetitive. And Aemond never uttered a word. Simply nodding his head in what you hoped was silent contempt.

and yet your mother had summoned you to her chambers, a sombre expression on her face.

“daughter” she greeted, a soft smile as she reached for your hand.

The feeling of dread encompassed you, your face pale and stricken as she ushered you to sit.

“an offer has been made, one your father could not refuse” she started, her hand caressing yours, “one with house stark…lord Cregan Stark has made a bid and your father has accepted.”

You swallowed, your head dropping.

“I know your heart bid for another…but this is the way of the realm, and lord Cregan is a good man, your- Rhaenrya’s son knows him well.” She spoke the last part hesitantly.

“when?”

“we leave in a moons turn”

You nodded your head, standing quickly you nodded your head as your turn to leave, the tears already threatening to fall from your eyes.

You had ran to Aemond’s rooms, his chambers adjacent to yours.

Your eyes were filled with tears, your face red and your breaths short.

He breathed your name, coming up to hold your face in his hands.

“I am to be married” you breathed through shallow breaths.

Aemond held his breath.

“mother…mother has said I shall marry…Lord Cregan Stark” you stuttered out, and Aemond back away from you, his hand dropping as if your face was fire.

“what?” he muttered harshly, “out of all your…suitors, him?”

“I had little say…I alw-“  you cut yourself of as you saw the look on Aemond’s face.

With you Aemond had always had patience, been kind where he was usually curel, his face never harsh or firm but now…now he seemed to hold the anger of the sun as he looked at you, as if he had been betrayed, as if he was the one being made to marry a man thousands of leagues away, a man you had never met.

“please Aemond” you begged, trying to move towards him once more.

You were unsure of what you were begging for.

Whether it was to help you get out of this betrothal or to marry him instead, but Aemond scoffed and sent you a glare that would send anyone else running.

“what do you want? Hmm?” he began, stalking over to you, “to help you out of it? Or what claim a dragon so that you might escape?” he said, his tone mocking.

“what is with you!” you spoke through tears, “why are you being so cruel?”

“cruel?” he scoffed once more, “you are the one being cruel!”

“how?! I had no choice!”

“you had every choice” he seethed, “and yet you continuously turn a blind eye to the right choice!”

“what choice? you think I had any choice in this?” you scoffed, “gods! Heleana had no say, even Rhaenyra had little say in her first husband and yet you think I got to choose?” tears were falling from your eyes but for an entirely different reason, you felt betrayed, the one person you knew or had thought you could trust with all your heart had betrayed you. Had made you lose all trust, and made you feel alone.

A feeling that had followed you for moons, even the following years that were to come. As he grew more and more distant, no more gifts or walks, days spent in each other’s company and now they were spent listening to your nephew trying to sell your future husband. Your mother and planning your wedding.

You felt like you had lost Aemond In his entirety and yet here he stood before you, claiming you a traitor.

“why are you here?” you breathed, trying to forget the words he had said.

“for you” he spoke, straightening his stance as you walked towards your sons crib.

“for me? What of Rickon? Hmm?” you said, bouncing your six month of son in your arms. “he is the heir to Winterfell and his father fights for your enemies, you expect me to leave with you? To abandon my home?”

“your home?” he huffed, “last we spoke, you hated it here.”

“last we spoke was two years ago, opinions change especially in years apart”

“so what? You will stay in here in the cold, damp, baren land that is the north?”

“in favour of what?” you questioned genuinely, leaving the north would gain you nothing, instead you would lose the comforts of a husband and your son his birthright.

“you know…I always assumed we would wed” Aemond began, a small gasp left your throat, “and so you will wed me, your son will be Aegon’s heir until you and I have a son of our own”

“what…I am already married-“

“to a man I shall kill myself”

“Aemond! Gods you are mad! You speak of a life this war will never offer us!” you shook your head, “I- I cannot leave here, not for a life you cannot guarantee, especially after years of neglect over something I could not control”

“so you are a traitor”

“I pledge to no one, I care not for the throne especially if the fight is between Aegon and Rhaenyra” you spoke “I have no means to fight in this war for either side, and I do not desire to…if that is what you want…for me to leave my home for no reason other than an empty promise for a life we will never live then I must tell you to leave”

“leave?” he said bewildered, unbelieving you would send him away so quickly.

“you can stay the night or until the storm clears up, but I will here no more of this war or of your fantasy you have suddenly conjured up” A fantasy you had long desired yourself, had craved for him to desire it to. And now you were offered it, it seemed unreachable now. A war in its way, a war started by him and only one ending could grant you this fantasy, an ending to messy and deadly.

“I will go now” he spoke harshly, sending you a single glance before he took his leave.

That night the storm raged harsher, and sleep evaded you.

The storm did not stop raging once and for the first time since Driftmark you feared for your brothers life.

You stared out your window once more, trying to find the familiar shape of Vaghar, and yet you saw nothing.

Your eyes closed as you hoped, prayed that he had manged to get out of the storm.

But instead of a prayer you heard the song, the singing of that dragon once more.

Opening your eyes, you instantly found its shape, its wings flying through the sky as if the storm was nothing, its song enticing you to follow it, to find were it sat.

Grabbing your cloak and your boats you were quick to sneak from the castle, with no one questioning the steps of their lady, even less when you made a hopeful glance to where you were told Vaghar had landed. Hoping Aemond had chosen to wait out the storm.

But the typical stubborn man had left, mostly likely gotten himself stranded on some cliff.

As you left the walls of Winterfell, your sight blinded by snow, you were guided by the dragons song, a song that grew louder and louder as you went deeper into the wolfs woods.

You had been hunting here on a few occasions, never alone and always at Cregan’s side.

The trees dwarfed the sky the further you went, and yet there was a clearing amongst the trees, leaving a trail of discarded leaves and twigs, snow parted by what could only be a tail.

The trail lead to a cave, encased with snow and yet here the song stopped and the familiar smell of dragon began.

You had not know of caves in these woods, then again you had long strayed from the trail others took, and perhaps the word of a dragon had made this corner of the woods scarce.

With hesitance you entered the cave, with no sword nor light, simply will.

The cave was empty, bar what seemed to be a cliff, leading below.

Had there not been the unrelenting scent of dragon you would have turned back and yet, you climbed down, down rugged rocks only to turn and be meet with an ice cold bolt shotting from the dragons mouth.

A roar filled the room, alongside ice cold blue flame.

The dragon you had only seen from a distance lay facing you, its stare made to intimidate.

You left out a breath at the sight of her.

She was so different yet similar to the dragons you had grown up seeing.

She tilted her head, assessing you, before she nudged you.

Whether it was playfully or an attempt to get you to leave you did not now.

And yet you continued to step forward.

“lykirī” You spoke softly, walking towards the dragon hand raised, “lykirī” your hand reached forward, touching the dragon’s snout softly. She was warm and yet freezing under your palm, so different from the hot scales you were used to under the touch of your siblings dragons.

“nyke ryptan aōha vāedar” you started, softly stroking her, “īles gevie…iksā gevie”

I heard your song… it was beautiful… you are beautiful.

A soft grumbled left the dragons lips.

“iksin ziry syt nyke? aōha vāedar?” you swore she nodded her head.

Was it for me? Your song?

“gōntan ao brōzagon syt nyke?” you whispered, moving down her snout and towards her back, the place a saddle usual sat.

did you call for me?

“eman dreamt hen ao, ryptan aōha vāedar syt jēdri. se yet mirre bisa jēda īlē paktot gō ñuha pungos”

i have dreamt of you, heard your song for years...and yet all this time you were right under my nose.

The dragon shook her head softly, turning to face you as if to urge you up upon her back.

You swallowed roughly as you climbed upon her wing and then her back. she was larger than your brothers dragon Sunfyer, you would even wager larger than dreamfyer, and yet she was younger, her eyes softer and scales thinner. Her fire, or ice, however was strong, perhaps even stronger than Caraxes.

You settled upon her back, holding onto her scales, and before you could utter a word, she took flight.

“daor” you muttered, “dohaerās” you spoke, your hands gripping tightly as you urged her to serve. “Paez”

No…serve…slow

The storm still raged, you were blinded as the snow pelted your eyes, and yet your dragon seemed unfazed.

She circled the woods in what seemed to be glee.

Showing of tricks that left you praying to the gods as you gripped onto her horns for dear life.

And then you heard a roar.

An old and ancient roar.

“jikagon ūndegon” you urged.

Go see

She flew through the sky at a rapid place before the sight of Vaghar became clear, she lay stranded on the lonely hills, covered in snow and Aemond lay beside her.

“elēnās” you commanded, urging our dragon to bank.

Jumping of her back you rushed towards Aemond, his body cold and shivering.

“Aemond…gods” you whispered, “I told you to stay the night!” you near screamed, trying to urge him awake, and yet he seemed unresponsive to your words.

“Vaghar jikagon, jurnegon syt shelter” you screamed, as you made moves to drag Aemond towards your dragon.

Vaghar go, search for shelter

The old dragon seemed to rumble at your words her gaze following you as you near threw Aemond body on top of the dragon, a dragon you decided very well needed a name.

You were scared to take flight once more, with nothing but your arms to hold onto the dragon and Aemond.

“gods” you muttered, your eyes blinded once more by snow. “sagon qucik se gīda” you commanded, pulling Aemond to your chest and below the winter coat you wore, your hands gripping your dragon, as you commanded her onwards.

Be quick and calm

The flight to Winterfell seemed short, though worry racked through you as Aemond’s breaths grew shorter.

You landed rather ungracefully in the godswood, a landing that seemed to awake the whole castle as you were greeted with the entirety of your staff, your maid, Lyra rushing towards you a blanket in hand.

“my lady” she muttered rushing towards you, only to gasp at the sight of Aemond as you struggle to carry him.

“Gunther, Torren” you shouted for your guards, to help you carry Aemond, “send for the maester my brother is in need of aid.

“my lady is that your dragon?” Lyra asked, nervously as your dragon seemed to send menacing glares to your staff.

“yes” you nodded, catching your breath from your seemingly heavy brother.

“what is its name?” she asked stepping behind your form nervously.

“Stormfyer” you decided, and she herself seemed to like it as she eagerly nudged you, pushing you back ever so slightly.

That night the maester cared for Aemond, his body slowly recovering.

Though whispered moved swiftly of your brothers presence, and his lack of dragon.

A week passed before Aemond woke.

His voice scratchy and body weak, his head confused. Even more so when he saw your face.

You stood with broth and bread in your hand, a soft nervous smile on your face as you faced him.

His eyes were angry, but his face seemed to relax ever so slightly at your face.

“am I a prisoner?” he asked, as you placed the tray on his lap.

“if you talk a single word of war then yes” you joked, though the words soured soon after they were spoken.

“how did you find me?”

You smiled at his words, “there is a dragon in the north, she sang to me and I answered her call and in doing so I found you, your body beside Vaghars…. I rescued you, near a week ago”

“a dragon?” he spoke “you have dragon now?”

You nodded, “Stormfyer, I named her…she is near the size of dreamfyer I believe, though closer in age to Vermax” you spoke with a smile.

“I am…happy for you sister”

“I won’t reconsider… before you say anything”

“I know…I realised as such as I lay here dreaming”

“dreaming…of what?”

“of you” he spoke instantly, his hand gripping yours, “I meant what is said, all I have ever wanted was you by my side, as my wife and my queen” “I do not wish to be queen”

“then we shall be farmer and wife…in Essos or I shall shave my head and take the name snow and be your faithful sworn sword here in the north”

“Cregan will kill you second he sees you”

“then we leave”

“what if my son?” you argued, “he is the heir to Winterfell, it is his birthright”

“as is Aegon’s as king” Aemond snapped.

“and yet a war rages for Rhaenyra as queen, a queen the north supports and you lie as the enemy within.”

“then will you kill me sister?”

“never” you whispered, gripping his hand tightly, “you are the other half of me, I found you dying on the hills for a reason, I have felt your pain and joy for years…I will not betray you” “you staying here does…it hurts me, makes me ache for you”

You took a deep breath, moving the tray of Aemond’s lap, and yourself towards him.

You took his face in your heads, your forehead lent against his.

“I ache for you…everyday of my life I have ached for you” you breathed “I waited, I waited for you to feel he same for you to tell me you wished to have me as your wife and yet that day never came until a week past…after I am married and made a mother” your eyes swelled with tears, “if the gods wished us together they would have made it easier for us Aemond…they never would have put us on opposing side of a war…or me with a husband i-“ you were cut off with Aemond’s lips on yours.

His mouth merged with yours, moving in tandem with the others, years of love and desire melting into one as his mouth kissed yours, his hands gripping your sides as he pulled you onto his lap.

Your hands reaching for his hair, tugging him closer to you.

Soft moans left your moth as his tongue danced with yours.

Your dress loosened by his wandering hands.

Your hips moving slowly against this, his length hardening against your thigh as you cunt became sickened with your wet heat.

“Aemond” you moaned breaking away from him. “I am married”

“and I do not care” he smoke, removing his shirt and they your dress. Leaving you both bare.

Your eyes were roaming and quick.

As if nervous to see another man naked, and yet Aemond had long been the only man you ever desired.

You should be filled with guilt, with the thought of your husband and yet, no guilt chased you as you removed the covers and revealed Aemond’s cock.

You swallowed at he sight of him.

You moved forward placing a quick kiss to his lips, hovering over his cock, before lunging down.

The feeling of your walls wrapping around his cock made you both moan, your breaths heavy as you adjusted to the size of him.

Your head reasted on his shoulder, his hands gripping your waists as you began to lift your self of his cock, only to push them down once more.

You set a slow pace as you rode him, moving your hips in slow circular motions.

Aemond placed soft kisses to your neck, urging you to look at him.

He moaned your name, his hands caressing your sides, before settling once more on your hips.

Gripping your waist, he began to move you up and down on his cock, his pace fast and full of pleasure.

Your peak came fast, your moans covered by your hands as you rode his cock.

Your walls clenching around his cock, causing Aemond’s own peak to wash over him, his seed filling you as you lay breathless above him.

“Aemond” you breathed, kissing his chest lightly as he held you to him.

“I have wanted to do that forever” he whispered, kissing your head.

You wanted to say so may things and yet you couldn’t.

You felt joy at having Aemond finally, at your emotions being laid bare before him.

And yet a sadness watched over you as if this was a goodbye.

And seeing as shouts were heard, the sound of hooves and a rapid knock upon the door, you realised it was.

He gripped your hand, “stay” he urged.

“it is my husband” you whispered, gathering your clothes in a rush., “he can never know…you must leave!”

“leave? How when our husband and his men circle the courtyard”

“i- i- don’t..” you mumbled in a panic as your redressed, “this never happened Aemond, you must bend plea for something…I don’t know say you pledge for Rhaenyra”

“he will never believe it…and why would I come here if I did”

The knocking sounded once more…look asleep and sickly… I will come back” your promised rushing out the doors and to greet your husband.

“Husband” you greeted, a breathless smile on your face, “you are back?”

“only for a time, I’m afraid” he said, sad smile on his face as he gave you a kiss in greeting.

He turned serious as he faced you, his voice a whisper as he spoke, “your brother…Aemond” he began, “he is here?”

You swallowed, “yes…but please I beg don’t kill him” you said tears filling your eyes, “he can be our prisoner…I sent his dragon away he has no means of leaving” you begged.

He looked at you hesitantly, before urging you to talk inside.

“he is a kin slayer” he spoke outright, “he should be killed…executed”

“I know…but he is a valuable prisoner.” He looked at you the, with the same look he gave you the first few months of your marriage. When you felt alone and needed Aemond like you need air to breath.

“do you still love him?” he spoke after a moment, “and do not deny that you ever did…I know of the whispers and I know you saved his life days ago”

“you are my husband…the father of my son…I have cared for you and even started to love you-“

“but do you love him?”

You stared at him your eyes begging for what, you did not know “what does it matter” you sighed in mock defeat.

Cregan kissed his teeth, “queen Rhaenyra has taken Kingslanding, Aegon is missing, and Aemond now a hostage of the north and you...” he stopped himself unsure of what to make of you, “you are my wife and the lady of the north, a kingdom pledged to the queen”

“so what? Am I too a prisoner until you can test my loyalty?”

“do I need to test your loyalty?”

You had no reply as you stormed out of his solar, and to your own rooms.

You realised you had no choice in what was to come, Aemond would die and no prayers would save him from what his fate was set to be.

Sighing you faced the room you had made a home, now it seemed empty.

The crib lay empty, your son in the nursery.

Your bed made and fire well kept.

Your thing scattered, with clothes left tidy in their dresser, blanket slung over chairs, books left stacked.  

You sighed, your head falling in your hands as you began to pace your room.

Then the realisation hit, the need to flea and run

Grabbing a bag you packed everything you could, clothes and books, hairbrushes and toys for your son.

A cloak slung over your shoulder, the bag well hidden as you made way to the nursery.

Smiling as you greeted him, his smiles lighting the room as you took him into your arms and made way to where Aemond was kept.

He lay in his bed, the food you had brought now eaten, a book lay in his hand.

“Aemond” you breathed, closing the door behind you. “we must leave” you said as you chucked some of the clothes Cregan kept in your chamber towards him.

Fleeing proved easier than you had thought. With feasts and revelry at your husbands return it was easy to sneak through the keep and towards the godswood.

Vhagar had made her way there only days ago, and though Aemond was still weak from the cold, he seemed to lighten up at the sight of her.

“where are we going?” he breathed as you tossed Aemond the bag you had packed.

“to lys” you began, “we cannot stay in Westeros and with the triarchy as your ally I am sure we would be safer there than here.”

After that day no one knows what happened to the Targaryen twins, many assumed Aemond had kidnapped you in act of revenge for your supposed loyalty to Rhaenrya and your betrayal against him. When in truth the escape had been your plan, and whilst you had lived in lys, myr and Tyrosh, moving from place to place for the first five years in fear of assassins, you later found a home where you thrive away from the war Aemond had began.

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[eelhound]

"I think Homer outwits most writers who have written on the War [fantasy archetype], by not taking sides.

The Trojan war is not and you cannot make it be the War of Good vs. Evil. It’s just a war, a wasteful, useless, needless, stupid, protracted, cruel mess full of individual acts of courage, cowardice, nobility, betrayal, limb-hacking-off, and disembowelment. Homer was a Greek and might have been partial to the Greek side, but he had a sense of justice or balance that seems characteristically Greek — maybe his people learned a good deal of it from him? His impartiality is far from dispassionate; the story is a torrent of passionate actions, generous, despicable, magnificent, trivial. But it is unprejudiced. It isn’t Satan vs. Angels. It isn’t Holy Warriors vs. Infidels. It isn’t hobbits vs. orcs. It’s just people vs. people.

Of course you can take sides, and almost everybody does. I try not to, but it’s no use; I just like the Trojans better than the Greeks. But Homer truly doesn’t take sides, and so he permits the story to be tragic. By tragedy, mind and soul are grieved, enlarged, and exalted.

Whether war itself can rise to tragedy, can enlarge and exalt the soul, I leave to those who have been more immediately part of a war than I have. I think some believe that it can, and might say that the opportunity for heroism and tragedy justifies war. I don’t know; all I know is what a poem about a war can do. In any case, war is something human beings do and show no signs of stopping doing, and so it may be less important to condemn it or to justify it than to be able to perceive it as tragic.

But once you take sides, you have lost that ability.

Is it our dominant religion that makes us want war to be between the good guys and the bad guys?

In the War of Good vs. Evil there can be divine or supernal justice but not human tragedy. It is by definition, technically, comic (as in The Divine Comedy): the good guys win. It has a happy ending. If the bad guys beat the good guys, unhappy ending, that’s mere reversal, flip side of the same coin. The author is not impartial. Dystopia is not tragedy.

Milton, a Christian, had to take sides, and couldn’t avoid comedy. He could approach tragedy only by making Evil, in the person of Lucifer, grand, heroic, and even sympathetic — which is faking it. He faked it very well.

Maybe it’s not only Christian habits of thought but the difficulty we all have in growing up that makes us insist justice must favor the good.

After all, 'Let the best man win' doesn’t mean the good man will win. It means, 'This will be a fair fight, no prejudice, no interference — so the best fighter will win it.' If the treacherous bully fairly defeats the nice guy, the treacherous bully is declared champion. This is justice. But it’s the kind of justice that children can’t bear. They rage against it. It’s not fair!

But if children never learn to bear it, they can’t go on to learn that a victory or a defeat in battle, or in any competition other than a purely moral one (whatever that might be), has nothing to do with who is morally better.

Might does not make right — right?

Therefore right does not make might. Right?

But we want it to. 'My strength is as the strength of ten because my heart is pure.'

If we insist that in the real world the ultimate victor must be the good guy, we’ve sacrificed right to might. (That’s what History does after most wars, when it applauds the victors for their superior virtue as well as their superior firepower.) If we falsify the terms of the competition, handicapping it, so that the good guys may lose the battle but always win the war, we’ve left the real world, we’re in fantasy land — wishful thinking country.

Homer didn’t do wishful thinking.

Homer’s Achilles is a disobedient officer, a sulky, self-pitying teenager who gets his nose out of joint and won’t fight for his own side. A sign that Achilles might grow up someday, if given time, is his love for his friend Patroclus. But his big snit is over a girl he was given to rape but has to give back to his superior officer, which to me rather dims the love story. To me Achilles is not a good guy. But he is a good warrior, a great fighter — even better than the Trojan prime warrior, Hector. Hector is a good guy on any terms — kind husband, kind father, responsible on all counts — a mensch. But right does not make might. Achilles kills him.

The famous Helen plays a quite small part in The Iliad. Because I know that she’ll come through the whole war with not a hair in her blond blow-dry out of place, I see her as opportunistic, immoral, emotionally about as deep as a cookie sheet. But if I believed that the good guys win, that the reward goes to the virtuous, I’d have to see her as an innocent beauty wronged by Fate and saved by the Greeks.

And people do see her that way. Homer lets us each make our own Helen; and so she is immortal.

I don’t know if such nobility of mind (in the sense of the impartial 'noble' gases) is possible to a modern writer of fantasy. Since we have worked so hard to separate History from Fiction, our fantasies are dire warnings, or mere nightmares, or else they are wish fulfillments."

- Ursula K. Le Guin, from No Time to Spare, 2013.