#he fought a CHILD because he wanted to find his friend

[qismet]

tetchou you and your strong belief system will always be special to me

[dragon-zena]

AND. AND everyone is like "sora didnt care about becoming a keyblade master in the first place" well duh but it's deemed as something that he suddenly NEEDS to be in order to be useful in this upcoming battle (again, he did not ask to be involved in any of this, wrong place right time, whatever) but even then it still sucks ass to go into something thinking you'll be okay and then almost get possessed and have your power sapped and then you wake up and your "mentor" is telling you that you didnt succeed because you're Suuuuch a Slacker who didnt take it seriously

[chaussetteblanche]

AHH i lived ur luke one do u think u can do another maybe like an enemies to lovers trope (sorry im a sucker for enemies to lovers)☺️

hi babe !! thanks for requesting ! don't apologise we're all on our knees and begging for enemies to lovers <3

I hate you

pairing : luke castellan x fem!reader summary : you and luke have been mortal enemies for months, will things change because of a quest? word count: 2.3k warnings : swear words, description of a wound

Luke had hated you since your first day at camp. To this day, you had no idea why. But after months of letting snark comments and aggressive capture the flags slide, you’d decided you had had enough. That had been the moment you'd officially become enemies. 

When he'd jeer at you, you'd bite back with even more venom. If you made him drop his sword at capture the flag, he’d come after you with his bare hands. When one hit, the other hit back harder. It was constant war. 

The rest of camp never understood this hatred you both harboured for one another. Singularly, you were both kind, generous and intelligent people. The kind of people you’d expect to get along fine and even become good friends. But no, it was always one thing after the next. 

So imagine your horror when a relatively new camper was chosen for a quest and found nothing better to do than pick you and your mortal enemy to accompany him. It was your worst nightmare come true. You froze when both your names resounded in the agora. 

You choked, coughed and held back from spluttering, refusing to embarrass yourself. You smoothed down your camp shirt and nodded. You did not look at Luke, even though you could feel his heated glower on your skin. He would probably find a way to blame you for this. Chiron looked between you and Luke with a raised eyebrow and pursed lips. You could almost hear what he was thinking. Nonetheless, he abided. 

Walking back to your cabin to prepare your things, you could hear the word actively spreading behind you.  "Did you hear that-" "Yeah, he’s chosen Luke and-" "They’ll be lucky if they don’t kill each other." Rolling your eyes, you shut yourself in your cabin and leaned back on the closed door. You dug the heels of your hands into your eyes, groaning. This was going to be nightmare.

And it really was. By hour 12 of the quest, you’d managed to get yourself thrown out of a train, fought off two harpies and had lost Luke.  "Where the hell did he go?" you asked loudly as you and Alan, the young camper, walked in direction of your next task. "He couldn’t have just disappeared!" "I don’t know, maybe he’ll join us later on." Alan shrugged. You frowned.  "Do you know anything about this?" You slowly turned to to him and he took a step back, shaking his head. "No, no, I-" "I’d suggest you think twice before lying to me, Alan," you growled. Alan sighed. "Yes, he told me he wanted to see how badly you did on your own so he could report it to camp." "Right." Of course. Of course he would find a way to make the dangerous quest even harder than it needed to be. You inhaled deeply, trying to remind yourself not to take your anger out on this thirteen year-old child. Your blood boiling, you turned back around and continued to walk. If Luke wanted to stay behind, that was fine with you. Better that than have him be in your way. 

"Oi!" Called a voice about an hour later. Ugh, Luke. You ignored him, keeping a steady pace. He called your name again. You didn’t react until his hand came down on your shoulder.  Before he could say another word, you spun around and pushed him up against the nearest tree, your forearm pressing down on the column of his throat. "Who the fuck do you think you are," you snarled, close to his face, "to leave Alan and I alone? The quest comes before everything! It comes before your hatred for me and your stupid pettiness! So pull yourself together and stop fucking around! » You shoved yourself off him, glaring into his eyes. He looked at you darkly before grabbing your wrist and pulling you close to him. "Yell at me again, princess, and I’ll give you a real reason to scream," he warned in a low voice. You scoffed, ripping your wrist out of his grip.  "Shut up and start walking, Castellan."

The quest went smoothly -as smoothly as it could go considering the tension between Luke and you- after that. You found that the three of you made a pretty good team. Everything was going fine and you had been on your way back to camp when you crossed a griffin. You pushed Alan behind you immediately, taking out your sword at the same time Luke did. "Distract him, I'll go around the side!" Luke ordered, running off. Despite not wanting to follow his orders, you set your jaw and instructed Alan to hide. You twisted your ring, a gift from your mother which turned into a shield when twisted the right way, and waited for the shield to form before banging your sword against it.

"Over here, you stinking pile of feathers! Or should I say fur?" You yelled as you ran backwards, away from Alan. You continued banging your sword against your shield and watched as Luke charged forward from the griffin's unguarded side. The beast shrieked as it was struck and batted Luke away with its large wing. Luke flew to the side with an 'oomph' sound. Despite your despise for him, you felt surprisingly concerned.

You darted forward as the griffin raised one of its clawed feet, ready to strike down Luke, who was slowly getting to his feet. The loud clang of claws meeting the metal of your shield made him look up quickly. You were straining underneath the power of the monster, pushing back against your shield with all of your strength. "Fucking. Move." You managed to speak through clenched teeth. Luke finally snapped out of his daze and bolted to the side. You readied yourself before jumping to the side, out of the griffin's reach -or so you thought. He swapped at you with his other clawed foot and despite you trying to run out of the way, managed to cut a gash in your side. You cried out. You heard Luke and Alan scream your name, but they felt far away.

You spun around, livid, and cut off the beast's hand as it came down towards you once more. Luke took his chance and stabbed the monster in the chest. The three of you watched as the creature turned to dust. You fell to your knees. Luke was next to you in a second, breathing heavily. He laid you down in the grass, muttering to himself. "Show me," he ordered, lifting your shirt up to reveal your stomach. You squirmed both from the strange feeling of having his eyes on your revealed body and from the stinging pain of the cut. "Gods- how bad it is?" you asked. The sound of Alan vomiting was indication enough. Luke bit his bottom lip, brows furrowed. "It's fixable. You just need ambrosia and a healer." "Really?" You hated the way your voice sounded so weak. Luke nodded strongly. "Trust me." And for some reason, you found that you did. He stood up and sheathed his sword before gesturing for Alan to take your bag.

"Can you walk?" he asked, though it sounded like more of a formality than a real question. You lifted yourself up on your elbows and groaned in pain. You shook your head, hating the fact that you had to rely on him of all people for help. "Okay, then." Luke bent forward, going to pick you up. "Wait." He stopped immediately. His eyes snapped up to your face, which had gone frighteningly white. You were staring at the gash across your stomach. It went from the top of ribs to the side of your belly button. And it did not look good. The cut was jagged and blood poured out all over your clothes. Luke watched, helpless, as your fingers reached out to touch the cut. You hissed in pain before looking up into his eyes.

"I'm going to die." Your voice shook dangerously. He hated the way your eyes watered and the way you looked so scared. He'd never seen you look that way before and he wanted to wipe the sight from his memory. You did not have a face that was meant to look frightened. You had a face which was meant for pride and victory. "Look at me." He grabbed your chin and kneeled next to you. "You are not going to die." He pulled a spare T-shirt out of his bag, balled it up and pressed down on your wound with it. "I know, it hurts," he cooed as you whimpered with pain. "Hold it here."

Ignoring your groans of pain, he pulled you into his arms and stood up. Your vision was becoming blurry, but you did all you could to keep pressing down on your wound with his T-shirt. You heard him bark out orders to Alan in the distance. "Luke," you spoke softly as black dots danced in your vision. "No, no, no, don't close your eyes, princess. Keep looking at me." "I don't wanna die," you whispered before passing out. Luke clenched his jaw as he sped up the pace, ordering Alan to keep up with him. "Idiot. You're not gonna die. I won't let you."

You awoke to a soft yellow light surrounding you. Slowly opening your eyes, you looked around to find yourself in the camp infirmary. Luke was on a chair beside your bed. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Hey." "Hi," you croaked, trying to sit up. Wobbly, you managed to sit somewhat straight against the pillows. "How're you feeling?" Luke asked, looking over your face. He was relieved it to find it less white that it had been two days before. "Like shit, really." You let out a hoarse chuckle. He laughed shortly, looking down at his hands. You were surprised to find it was a really nice sound. That had been the first time you'd ever heard him laugh, and it felt really good to be the cause of it. "How long have I been out?" "Two days and a half." You were quiet for a moment as you thought back to the last things you remembered. "I guess I should thank you for saving my life, Castellan."

Luke let out something close to a scoff and leaned back in his chair. "You saved mine first. Thank you." "Well, yeah." You coughed. "I couldn't just let you die like-" "I don't hate you, you know," he interrupted you. You stopped talking. "Not really."

"What do you mean you don't hate me? Of course you do. You can't stand me. You think everything I do is stupid and bound to failure." "No, I- I don't hate you. I'm envious of you. Of what you have." "Of what I have? I have a fucking hole in my stomach right now, Caste-" "Of your mom. Mostly."

Your lips made an 'O' shape as you understood. Suddenly, everything made sense. That was why he'd disliked you from the start. You had the one thing he never would. Your mother was a minor goddess and did not have many children. This permitted her to be frequently in contact with you and therefore play the role of a present mother. Your father always kept in touch with you. You knew that with each of them you would always have someone to turn to. Unlike Luke.

"Mostly?" you asked, tilting your head to the side. "I'm envious of how whenever you walk into a room, it immediately lights up. Of how everyone likes you. Of how you always look good, even if you've just been torn to pieces by a griffin. Of how you always seem to see the good in people, except for me, I guess. Of how you get along with everyone except for me." Luke didn't meet your eye as he spoke. "Maybe if you hadn't been such an ass when we first met, we'd have gotten along fine. And I do see the good in you, I just like to ignore it for my own benefit." Luke's eyes shot up to yours.

"What do you mean 'your own benefit'?" "Well, if I didn't ignore the way you're so kind to the new kids, the way you're so protective of your friends and Annabeth, the way you stand up for what you think is right, the way your eyes look when they catch the light just right and the way your laugh seems to draw everybody in, then maybe... Maybe I wouldn't dislike you at all. Quite the contrary, actually." You could feel your heart hammering inside your chest as you spoke. The way Luke was staring into your soul was not helping either.

"Say something, Luke," you pleaded. His first name felt soft and foreign on your tongue. You had never said it before.

Luke did not answer. Wordlessly, he stood up and was by your side in two steps. He cupped your cheek, leaned down and brushed his lips against yours. Your heart raced and when he pulled away, you found yourself chasing his lips. He looked deeply into your eyes and smiled before kissing you properly. Eruptions exploded in your stomach as you kissed him back. You pulled him closer by the shirt as his warm lips pressed against yours. Finally, you couldn't help but think. All those feelings you'd ignored and pushed to the back of your mind finally broke free and you almost cried from relief.

His free hand found the back of your neck and you shivered as his fingers caressed the skin there. You leaned into his touch and cupped his jaw before slowly sliding a hand into his hair. He let out a soft moan but before you could get too into it, a cough resounded throughout the room.

"I'm glad to see that you and Luke have managed to work through your differences, Y/N." Chiron spoke, amusement dripping from his words, as he trudged into the room. "Now tell me about your quest."

[syrupfog]

Maybe in another world the poison Sanji’s mum took didn’t work on Sanji, or at least not in the same way. 

A child with black hair and dull eyes, and like his brothers he’s made to be a solider who follows orders. 

The difference is that he follows his mum’s instead of Judge’s. 

She’s distraught that the poison wasn’t enough, but she raises Sanji as best she can to be someone free, even if he can’t really be. 

He learns to cook because she asks him to (she wonders if she’s fooling herself when she sees just a glimmer of excitement in his dull eyes).

He guards her like a dog as she grows sick, this six year old who can’t even see over the counters. But he’s strong and can fight and all he knows is that what his mum says is what he does. 

And when she’s dying, she tells him to run. Says whatever happens, get away from Judge.

And when she dies, that’s what he does. Because he’s an emotionless machine, but he’s following her orders. She told him to be free from Germa, and to seek friends. He doesn’t understand the second part (“friends are a weakness” Judge had said) so he ignores it, but he goes.

He finds the Orbit at age seven and he already has cooking skills (and he’s super powered— he’s good at what he does). They’re creeped out by him, most of the cooks just try to ignore him or slink around him, this terrifying little kid who can dice hundreds of onions in an hour.

He doesn’t interact with them either— his mum said to be free, and he assumes this is “free”. He assumes these aren’t “friends”, at least they’re not like in the books she read him. No one has fought for him or offered to share their things with him, so these must not be them.

And then, of course, the Orbit is hit by pirates, and then hits a storm. Sanji ends up stranded with Zeff on that cliff. Why’d Zeff save him? Maybe it was the way he stood emotionless in front of him with those dead eyes. Said he had to get back to cooking like nothing mattered.

Maybe it was the way everyone else looked at him like they were scared of him, this little ten year old unaware of his effect. 

Maybe it was the almost imperceptible way he flinched when another cook came near him, like he was waiting for the next attack. 

It doesn’t matter now.

What matters is that Sanji’s on the island with Zeff and they’re starving, but Zeff gives him food. Zeff loses his leg for Sanji. These things are adding up, Sanji thinks this might be what his mum wanted him to find. 

He’s not sure. 

Uncertainty doesn’t fit well with him.

But his mum said to find a friend and Zeff fits what he knows, so he devotes himself like a soldier. When they get off the island, Zeff can’t get rid of him no matter what he tries (he doesn’t try too hard). 

They get a restaurant. 

Sanji works like a machine in the kitchens.

Zeff puts him on food prep for years and Sanji does it without complaint. No one is as good as him at finely dicing, at weighing and measuring to the letter. He even does the dishes when they’re behind, and only breaks one before he figures out not to grip with all his strength.

Zeff makes him a full fledged chef at fifteen. 

He always feels a little… conflicted about making Sanji work. The boy doesn’t have friends and doesn’t seem to desire them. He doesn’t have emotions. It feels wrong to make him work when he doesn't have the fight to object.

But Sanji’s his responsibility for some reason, and he’s accepted that. 

And once, just once, when Sanji is seventeen, Judge comes down in the middle of the night to find a full five course meal prepared. It’s nothing the Baratie makes. It smells of unfamiliar lands.

He doesn’t mention it to Sanji, and there’s no trace of it the next day. 

He wonders, though. 

When Sanji is nineteen, Luffy arrives with a cannonball through the wall. 

Zeff’s not too happy about that, but Sanji’s on red alert. He goes after Luffy with a vengeance.

Because that’s ZEFF, and if Sanji knows one thing it’s that he has to PROTECT ZEFF. 

Luffy’s enamoured with him immediately. He wants Sanji. He wants this man who cooks and fights with his feet (Zeff taught him that, Sanji added it to the rules— no hands, be free, find friends).

Sanji’s dull eyes barely blink as he tells Luffy no, that he’s here for Zeff. 

But then Luffy says the magic words. 

He introduces Sanji (who stopped fighting at Zeff’s directive) to his crew and says, “this is my new friend Sanji! He’s going to be our cook!”

It’s confusing in a way few things are. Sanji lives in black and white— but Luffy says they’re *friends*. His mum told him to find friends. But he can’t leave Zeff, who is also a friend. 

Sanji stumbles a little. 

And then the green haired swordsman mocks him for it. The smallest flame of anger lights in his belly, a single momentary spark. 

But that doesn’t matter because right now in this moment Sanji is processing having TWO friends. 

That processing comes to a halt when Zeff yells at him to leave. 

It’s simple again. 

He follows orders.

He joins the Straw Hats. 

He cooks. 

He fights. 

Luffy talks all the time about being free, and Sanji doesn’t get it but he figures Luffy will tell him when they manage to become “the most free”, something he has no metric of.

Also, Zoro is there. 

Zoro is a complication. Sanji’s not sure if he’s friends with everyone or just with Luffy. He THINKS it’s everyone. He doesn’t like living in greys. 

And Zoro likes to fight. 

He tries to rile Sanji up, every time. Makes comments about his food or eyebrows.

Sometimes it… well it doesn’t *work* but it makes that little spark hit deep inside of him again, and for a split second the world is brighter. And then it’s gone. 

Then Zoro pulls out his swords, which means they’re sparring, and Sanji is good at sparring.

They add more crew members. They go from island to island. Sanji protects his friends because that’s what he’s supposed to do, and he cooks, because he’s supposed to. 

And then some time around Water 7 he starts to dream. 

He’s never dreamed before.

He dreams of his mum and her warm smile. He dreams of his sister and her complicated expressions that he could never understand. 

He dreams of Zoro and the grin that stretches over his face and the way his earrings dance. 

He doesn’t get it. There’s no point to dreams.

What does it, what finally lights the spark inside of him, is Thriller Bark. It’s “nothing happened”. Zoro pushes him out of the way, stops him from doing the one thing he’s MADE to do, and then Sanji wakes up and realises what’s happened. 

And a whirlwind alights inside of him.

The world has colors and depth it didn’t before, as he’s flooded with ANGER, that Zoro would do that, WORRY, that Zoro won’t make it, PAIN and HEARTBREAK for his mum, and a new sort of loyalty, deep and unending, for his crew. 

He watches Zoro sleep as he processes.

And when Zoro finally wakes, when that worry abates a little, he YELLS at him. SCREAMS that he was a SELFISH ASSHOLE and HOW DARE HE and he’s IMPORTANT. 

And through it all, Zoro stares at him, wide eyed and probably high on pain meds.

And then, when Sanji finally exhausts himself, Zoro grins. That same grin from Sanji’s dreams, and he says, “I knew you’d make it.” 

Which is DUMB and makes Sanji EVEN MORE MAD because what does that fucking MEAN and he YELLS SOME MORE and by that time all the Straw Hats have gathered in shock outside the infirmary door. 

“Welcome to the crew, Curls,” Zoro says and Sanji wants to KICK HIM but he’s on death’s door already and Sanji knows how strong he is. 

So instead he collapses onto him and weeps, his emotions a confusing mess inside of him.

And eventually the door creaks open and Chopper slips in because he HAS to check Zoro’s vitals and then Luffy BOUNDS in and wraps his arms around Sanji and says “SANJI, MAKE ME MEAT” and Sanji SNAPS that he’s BUSY and Luffy LAUGHS and says “Okay but AFTER YOU’RE BUSY, MEAT.”

And later that night, after he’s made a MISTAKE in the kitchen because he got EMOTIONAL chopping vegetables, he sits in the infirmary again, forcing Zoro to drink broth. And he says, “I don’t know what happened. It’s like there’s too much of me inside me now.”

And Zoro says yeah. “That’s what living feels like,” he says. 

“I don’t like it,” says Sanji. 

“You ever disliked something before?” 

“No.” 

“Then congratulations.” 

Then Zoro reaches out and grabs his hand. His grip is weak still, shaking.

He says, “this is the point. You have to find things to live for, now.” 

And Sanji thinks. “I’m supposed to live for friends,” he says. “And freedom.” 

“The you’re on the right ship,” Zoro says. “What else?” 

And Sanji remembers a book his mum used to read. A long time ago.

“Have you heard of the All Blue?”

[vieoeil-riae]

yourself and I

steb/gn!reader

warnings: masturbation, caught masturbating (steb), hand jobs, eye contact, praise kink, submissive!steb, aspects of nonhuman genitalia (a lot more precome), porn with plot, mutual pining, childhood friends to lovers, selectively mute!steb, sign language (BSL), steb the bf hater as a treat, 18+ MDNI, 4.4k words

synopsis: You find familiar help when spiraling rent prices bite you, it sends Steb spiraling into guilty realisations of his own.

read on ao3 | ao3 profile | ao3 collection

Rent in Piltover was always extortionate. An arm and a leg, as well as your firstborn child would just about get you a dingy flat in the worst spot imaginable. You’d grumbled over it relentlessly, slowly being driven mad by flat after flat that you considered as being ‘alright’ ending up well out of your price range.

You’d confided in your childhood friend of course, silent, seemingly unbothered by everything, but an amazing listener once you looked just an inch past his quietness. God was it a relief, relationship drama; philosophical tangents; ranting about rent prices; even the most vulnerable secrets were safe in Steb’s capable hands.

It was only natural that years of sticking together and staying by his side — especially when people tried to oust him for his appearance and apparent dislike for talking — would foster the safe feelings between you. He was a haven of understanding.

“I’ve lost my flat, I’m losing my boyfriend, I’m so cold,” You grumbled, nearly yelling as your hands moved in time with your words — years of watching Steb sign to you baked into your habits, “and I have no fucking money!”

The two of you had been walking back from a hole-in-the-wall pub, somewhere where the food was cheap and the atmosphere was cozy. You’d fought to pay your share of the bill, insisting on not troubling Steb, and were promptly reminded that neither of you would ever be in debt with each other with several firm hand gestures. In short, he paid.

His ears had swivelled down at your words, not from the volume, but because he was concerned. He’d taken you out mostly as a way to console you when you’d shown up at his door with a tight lid on your emotions, but a sheen of tears clinging to your lash line.

Two weeks to find another place, was what you told him, and his frills had flared — a sharp twinge of his eyebrow evidence of the way he felt deeply irritated on your behalf.

Your boyfriend was another topic he knew intimately well. Too well. He didn’t like him, to say the least. Self-centred, lazy, stupid. A myriad of insults towards that man could be dredged from his mind, but not shared; not out of respect for him but for the sake of not upsetting you too much. You could do better, without question, he wasn’t against you losing him if he was being honest.

Steb had draped his coat over you despite the chill that brushed over his skin and walked you all the way back home, quietly and logically rolling around ideas on how to help.

The next day, you were surprised by the sight of your best friend standing in your doorway well past dark when you finally came home from work, ears pricking at the sound of your footsteps. 

You could always stay with him, if you wanted?

And who were you to say no, you’d agreed quickly to sharing his space — a look of relief washing over your face. He really would’ve asked sooner if he knew that was the expression you would’ve made.

At the same time, maybe he shouldn’t have asked at all. 

It was only natural that years of being so close had led him to be… partial to you. It made sense because to him, you’d always been ‘good’ in every way in his eyes; even the ugly parts, because they were yours, and you were beautiful, full stop. No, he’s not being biased, you just were — it was objective.

It had been a lingering thought in the back of his mind for years, coated in the plausible deniability of simple familiarity and friendship until the feeling’s cloak was lifted by the new, constant proximity to you. 

You were everywhere all of a sudden. Your clothes were in his laundry hamper; your favourite foods were littered about the kitchen cupboards; he could smell you on the couch cushions — his frills fluttered as they nearly tasted the scent of your damp skin after you showered.

When exactly his feelings had become more than friendly, he wasn’t sure, maybe they’d always been that way, but it was starting to drive him mad.

You’d tell him about arguments you and your boyfriend had more and more frequently, his heart clenching at the thought of you being shouted at, cock woefully jumping at the thought of you shouting back. It was a guilty feeling, mind split between feeling the lewd ache of it and watching the curl of your lips, not paying the attention he ought to.

You’d wear pyjamas around the house, his heart growing warm and fuzzy at your comfort, biting the inside of his cheek when he eyed the sliver of skin revealed when you reached for anything on a high shelf. He blinked and caught the thoughts by the neck, you weren’t a piece of meat. But god, the stretch of your skin looked heavenly.

You’d touch him even more — from little brushes of your hands on his hips to gently shuffle him out the way to melting into his arms on the couch after a long day — his heart throbbed at the closeness, so did the rest of him. He prayed you never noticed the way his breathing picked up.

Steb tended to do the washing, a task off your back, a good distraction from your wonderfully consuming presence until he found himself blushing around your underwear and feeling like a pervert just for touching them, more so when he caught himself thinking much too hard about where the fabric had been pressed all day. He groaned quietly.

Fresh out of the shower, you looked like temptation; water still dripping down your collar bones and beyond until it finally met your towel. His eyes traced the droplets when he was sure you weren’t paying attention. You brushed your teeth together, he’d watch the way you’d gag brushing your tongue. Every action, completely innocuous until his mind decided it wasn’t.

It was wrong, so very wrong, to… sexualise you. You were his friend, not an object — you were spoken for as well. A confusing mix of possessiveness and a deep desire to hole up in a cave for several months swirled in his chest every time he thought about that. He couldn’t have you and his mind refused to help him stick to that, so he lived with a clenched jaw.

Guilt followed the way he enjoyed domestic moments with you, and it was getting ridiculous. It felt like he was barely treading water when all he was doing was washing the dishes while you dried them, two trains of thought blaring as he stared at stray water trickling down your bare forearms. Your hands carefully wiped the water off of a knife, your hand pulling the dishcloth up and down so smoothly, Steb blinked hard and tried to swallow the feeling in his throat.

It was like his birthday came early the day you’d finally had it with your boyfriend.

You’d stormed in, cursing up a maelstrom of swears and insults under your breath, collecting up trinkets and books and several hoodies before dumping them into a ratty bag. He watched you carefully, frozen in his place, leaning against the kitchen counter with a lukewarm cup of tea in his hands.

Admittedly you were, crudely put, hot when you were pissed, but admiringly eyeing the sharp way you moved around his flat came second to his concern for you. Steb rounded the counter, crouching a few feet in front of you so you could see his hands ask what had happened.

You’d seethed, the angry scrunch of your brow just a little less appealing when directed at him.

“You, with me. Now.” You’d gestured to the door with a harsh jab of your thumb, leaving no room for argument, though there wouldn’t have been a need for one anyway — he very much didn’t mind doing what you told him to.

He’d trailed you all the way to your boyfriend’s house and waited just at the gate while you pounded on the door. His ears pricked towards the conversation, admittedly (and guiltily) quite nosy about the ensuing spat. The door creaked open and god, how did a guy like that ever catch the eye of someone like you? Maybe he was being too judgemental…

“Your fish doesn’t like me.” Your boyfriend muttered, throwing an irritated glance over your shoulder at Steb.

“No, he doesn’t, and I don’t either.” You dropped the bag on the threshold, not flinching at the sound of something inside snapping. “Take your shit and don’t talk to me again, prick.”

You turned on your heel without another word. It was petty, maybe, but Steb used the last few moments he had before being dragged off to send a thinly veiled, judging glance at your now-ex-boyfriend — the almost stoic, but not quite, look sending your ex into a fit.

More softly, you’d confided in him later that night the words that brought everything to a close:

“‘Too much.’” You’d paraphrased to him, sat with your knees tucked to your chest on the window sill next to him. You looked so ethereal in the moonlight, his heart broke at the thought of you — someone he thought so dearly of — being treated with such dismissal.

He held you tightly, tracing kinder words into your back as he let your tears silently wet the scruffy collar of his well-worn jumper. You breathed in the smell of him, fresh but kind of salty like the sea breeze, until you relaxed entirely — enjoying the feel of his chest against yours, not knowing he was doing the same.

It became harder to distract himself from you after that, there was one less layer standing between him and giving in, one less layer of guilt when images of your nude body flashed through his mind, or how you’d feel; your hands, your lips, your mouth. It was like the blush on his cheeks never went away when you were around.

Though fantasising about you would be perverse, he got off, his palms and sheets a slick mess with the exertion, just trying to get rid of the aching before you got home. His wandering thoughts kept taking him back to you.

What would you sound like? Feel like? He knew from your rants how you liked to lavish your partner with affection, would you do that for him? He fought the image of your hands on him, giving himself to you, losing when he could almost feel your hands replacing his, saturating his senses with a burning pleasure.

His ears burned, hearing echoes of your words spin around his head. You called him beautiful and meant it, you called him a good man too — maybe you’d rescind that if you knew what his palms were doing, but the memory of your half-lidded, content eyes searching his gazing fondly into his made him sigh and arch into the feeling of his hands.

When you looked at him it was like the veil of his isolated existence dropped, like you were in his head and knew every thought like it was your own. You understood him, cut him slack he’d never give himself, but would you still offer him that if you knew? His heart clenched at the possibility you would, heady and electric bolts of want panging through his core.

He sucked a sharp breath through his teeth, thumb stroking over the wet tip of his cock, trying to drown himself in the sensation — brows pinched in focus. If he just got off then maybe he could look you in the eye without the risk of you seeing how badly he wanted you.

He didn’t notice you’d come home, though.

You’d been excited about leaving work early, finally knowing what it was like to feel excited about the person waiting for you when you got back. Maybe it was rude to have a thing for your best friend who kindly let you stay with him, rude to play with how you remembered small moments and reimagine them so intimately.

But it was Steb of all people, kind, sweet Steb. Resisting the pull felt more impossible than ever. Maybe it was rude to be looking for him in the guys you dated, it was definitely why the last try failed — stoicism wasn’t dickheadedness when it was Steb, Steb was just calm to the untrained eye. 

You’d finally admitted to yourself that the man you wanted was the one sharing a flat with you. You just didn’t want to ruin what you already had, you doubted he’d leave you forever but the thought of a new gap between you made your heart ache. 

So you flustered awfully when you’d quietly walked past Steb’s bedroom. The slick sounds escaping through the crack in the door were obvious, especially with the lewd sliver of him you could see through it. You ached, you probably weren’t the cause of that and by all means ought to stop looking.

But you, basally, were greedy. Nature halted you in place, staring at Steb desperately stroking his cock.

It was pretty, he was pretty, you wanted to touch him, find all the little faces he could make. Maybe noises too, wouldn’t that be delicious? You were caught up, breathing heavy, unable to look away — tunnel vision set on the way his pre-come glistened in the low light because god, there was so much of it.

He yelped, snapping you out of the spiral you found yourself in, eyes locking with his through the crack. Getting him to make a noise that loud was a feat in and of its own, you couldn’t help but wonder if you could get him to make a similar one another way.

Maybe it was bad that he throbbed at the thought of you coming in, but the thought of you touching him was the only thing that sent a pang of heat through his gut for months, sent his frills fluttering. Shame, mild fear, and unrelenting desire coalesced in a fizzing way that made his cock jump between his slick palms.

You spoke before you thought, interrupting the way his still sticky hands came up to frantically sign apologies at you. “Can I help?”

Far less suave than you wanted, it came out desperate. You had the decency to look mildly surprised at your own words, especially when Steb’s jaw dropped; an intense blush coating him all the way to his shoulders, a shiver running down his back.

You had to control yourself when he cautiously nodded, shedding your jacket in the hall outside, gripping the door far too tight as you stalked towards him. Guilt weighed heavily in his eyes, you were familiar with the look, he blamed himself for a lot of things, but you wanted it gone.

“What’s with the face?” You questioned lowly, leaning over his bare body. It felt unfair, but the down-turn of his ears and now flattened frills sent a wave of satisfaction through you. “Imagining something bad?”

You watched his eyes widen, a caught look that bordered on panic splaying across his features as he turned to look away, but you weren’t having it. You pinched his chin between your fingers, turning his burning face back to you.

His index finger pointed towards you, your breath caught in your throat. He saw your surprise and started to fumble apologies, shaking fingers just barely cooperative enough to twist into the right words. You snorted lightly, the situation hitting you. 

You leaned in.

“I imagine you, too.” You whispered against the shell of his ear, breath ghosting the sensitive tips through a smile and you felt his own breathing hitch against your neck. Your breath nearly burned, the world seemed to stop entirely at your words. The image of you touching yourself, his name falling from your lips, burrowed its way into his mind. Did you feel like he did, carnal, utterly perverse but as sharp as a live wire ready to snap?

He shivered against you, the thin, sensitive skin of his collar bones brushing against the material of your shirt.

You pulled back with a smirk, “why’d you stop?”

He blushed impossibly hotter as you knelt on the bed in front of him, eyeing him hungrily. You knew why, there was no way you didn’t, but you loved to tease him, prod him, make his hands spill his thoughts. You did it for conversation, to get in his head, you were doing it to force his hand and make him say what he wanted. A lewd twist, a new face of your affection.

‘You.’ His index finger pointed at your chest again.

“You can keep going, I’m not stopping you.” You shrugged off your shirt, the planes of your body revealed softer than your words. Steb was transfixed, finally seeing your skin a new light after all the years between you, not simply imagining it. You hummed. “But you’re considerate, aren’t you?”

He swallowed, pride blooming in his chest despite not knowing where you were going. 

“You always think about what other people are thinking, what they could think. You don’t want to scare me off, is that it?” You probed, drawing in closer, never looking away from his eyes even when your hand found purchase on his thigh. Warmth flooded his chest, his ears twitched, and almost guiltily, he looked away from you as if he were afraid of how well you could read him.

“You can’t scare me off,” you whispered into his ear, hand trailing up the inside of his thigh — the delicate kisses of your fingertips making his cock twitch, “you don’t know how long I’ve wanted you.”

Your hand missed his cock, caressing his pelvis and drifting up as you continued to talk. “Wanna know something, Steb?”

He nodded shakily, shivering as your hands skimmed his sensitive sides.

“I think I’ve been looking for you for a long time. I look for your eyes when I’m interested in other people, do you know what I’m saying?” Your fingers brushed his nipple, pinching enough to make him draw a sharp breath before dancing up his chest. He shook his head and you cupped the back of his neck. “I’ve been looking for you this whole time.”

You cupped his jaw, “I wanted you the whole time, because of course I did, how could I not?”

He could feel the weight of your stare, the honesty of your want, as well as the way his frills pulsed along his cheekbones. You wanting him seemed almost incomprehensible, but he wouldn’t deny you; the pooling of anxiety in his gut turned warm, nearly salivating at the thought of finally getting what he had always wanted.

He watched you carefully as you leaned in again, knee wedged between his thighs, barely brushing his throbbing cock. 

“May I?” You asked sweetly, eyes darting to his lips and back up again. You, so willing to act, waited for him — you always cared. When his lips met yours it was like a jigsaw had fallen into place, the warmth of your lips against his, sweet and real, made everything make more sense.

You pulled away, murmuring adoringly. “You’re so soft, I like that, I like you.”

Kiss-drunk, you dove in for more, pressing Steb towards his pillows. Your hand brushed the seam where his fins met his scalp and he shivered into the hot press of your bodies, hips bucking his cock into your thigh. You spoke against his lips, calling him all sorts of pretty words, your other hand trying to memorise the feel of every inch of skin it could find.

You hand found the base of his cock, hard and slick, and you hummed happily into his mouth. You withdrew far enough to get a good look at his eyes, admiring the misty, deep blue of his blown-out pupils. “Can I touch you?”

“Please.” Steb whispered, quiet and sort of raspy with disuse, but the keening pitch, the almost-broken quiver made his desire so evident. His hand moved with his word out of habit, the back of his fingers brushing the underside of your jaw as his flat hand moved down from his chin, and changed direction to cup your jaw.

“God, you’re so good to me, you’re so good.” You breathed, hand wrapping around his shaft, squeezing lightly and reveling in the way it made his shoulders jump. He was right to have imagined your hands feeling better, the lack of his control made the sensation taste sweeter, the feel of your hand giving his cock and experimental pump — careful of the frills — burn hotter.

“Fuck, you’re wet as hell, how long were you at it before I got home?” He let out the quietest whine at the strain in your authoritative voice, rutting into the twist of your hands over his cock frills. “You know, it’s kinda hot to think about you getting off on me. How long have you been pent up?”

Steb’s eyes rolled back, third eyelids stuttering over his foggy pupils as a needy thrum passed through his body. You watched his muscles twitch, his head roll to the side slightly, before you took his chin between your fingers and forced his eyes back to yours. “Don’t look away from me now, sweetheart, isn’t this what you wanted? What you’ve been wanting for a long while?”

A strangled noise caught in the back of his throat at the hungry way you looked at him, eyes dark and lidded and there was a pull to arch into you, showing you everything he could. He could goad you just as well, there was a sharp, intoxicating kick to watching you react to him; no wide, greedy pupils or heaving shoulders at the sight of his writhing were lost on him.

There was a swell of lewd pride in his chest and groin knowing he could make you like this, a thought just as enjoyable as the feeling of being under your hands. And it was nice to give you what you wanted, to scratch an itch deep in you with his body — there was an element of you using him like that that made the frills on his cock flutter.

He hissed at the feeling of you changing pace, watched your eyes trail down to his flushed cock and the sensitive frills decorating it, your fingers ghosting the very edges of them — sparks dancing along the trail your fingertips made. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” You asked, more of a statement than anything, but your voice sounded so clear. Steb’s stomach tensed at your words, a wave of excitement cresting over his shoulders — it was like he could feel your words. 

Your hands flattened his frills on the next downstroke, putting garbled words and heavy breathing in his throat, humping into your hand as his hands — frantic — grasped your bare shoulders. The heat of your skin below his palms added to the tense burning climbing its way up his spine.

“Mm, yeah, hold on like that. You don’t know how much I like it when you touch me.” You softly spoke over the vulgar sound of your hand pumping his cock. He was swimming in feeling, every honeyed word you uttered stuffed cotton on his head. Sweetly, in loving contrast to the lecherous rub of your hand, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You don’t know how much I’ve started to enjoy coming home.”

Steb shivered, eyes fluttering shut at your words and squeezing harder at the wave of sensitivity they brought. 

“It’s because you’re here.” You whispered into his skin, worshipful and adoring in each syllable. You smiled, pleased, at the feeling of his hips bucking with more instinct — chasing his peak in your hands. 

You stole the sense from his mind, kissing away his doubts as cascading reassurances of how much you wanted him, wanted this, and loved seeing him come apart fell from your lips. You brushed your lips over the frills of his cheekbones, bursts of you dancing on the edge of his mind in a way he could never describe, but couldn’t get enough of.

Your eyes looked endless when you pulled away, a shudder passing through his taught body at the way you regarded him so deeply. You didn’t go far, never stopping your hands, only enough to see his eyes. His leaking tip throbbed.

“I love you.” You told him quietly, almost bashful despite your sensuous touch. Tender, so tender and intentional, you meant what you said. The debauched, glazed look in your eyes sending a shiver through his spine — turning the pooling heat in his gut fizzing with the approaching peak of ecstasy.

“Don’t hold back, Steb.” You ordered softly, aware of the violent jerk of his hips, the choked whine he made when you matched his bucking; the hand stroking his cock hitting every sensitive ridge, the other lost to the bare stretches of skin it could reach.

He jolted, hissing as he came, curling towards you; unintentionally rough, your teeth clacking as he kissed you, frenzied, urging, trying to feel more of you. Your hand worked until he twinged away from your touch, you let him, still caught up in the thrill of watching him writhe because of you.

He panted, eyes refocusing on yours, a gently searching expression crossing his brows. You licked off some of the slick, white come from your hand, snorting at the surprised, then flustered, face he pulled.

“What?” You giggled, fondly eyeing your work. Steb really did look pretty splayed out like that, frills still fluttering with the aftershock, cheeks hued with effort.

He pointed to himself, then pulled a face that seemed to be part of an internal debate you weren’t privy to; like he was looking for permission somewhere. His ears flushed and flicked down.

Steb’s hands crossed flat across the skin just below his collar bones, then pointed a slightly shaky finger towards you. 

‘I love you.’

Your eyes widened in shock of the obvious, and any impulsive words were smothered on your lips by a heartfelt kiss as his pointed finger turned into a hand reaching to cup the back of your neck. Uncontrollably, insuppressible, you smiled into it, heart jumping at the feeling.

“Took us long enough, huh?” You teased, making Steb chuckle quietly. You were pulled in, bare torso to bare torso, and kept close to his skin — feeling the beat of his heart against yours.

A/N: lol died for a bit sorry about that, anyways merry christmas! (half of you have probably read this already 💀)

banner cr: @/anitalenia

[gay-dorito-dust]

Will you do a scenario of how we’d meet Bill for the first time and what he would be like if you were sort of “friends”? 🙏

You were minding your business while walking through the woods of Gravity Falls, just needing a change of scenery and finding the woods to be the perfect place to do so with it’s mushrooms, flowers and the wildlife that crossed your path.

Everything was seemingly fine and not out of the ordinary until you started to feel like you were being watched from somewhere, you looked to see if you could spot anyone, but all you could see were birch trees that had markings on the bark that suspiciously looked like eyes. You were just about thinking of leaving until you heard a voice from somewhere.

‘Hey kiddo!’

You looked to the left, nothing

‘Other way kid.’

the to the right, nothing

‘Colder.’

Up? Nope, nothing.

‘You’re practically an human popsicle at this point.’

How about looking down? Still nothing. Now you were getting confused, scared and annoyed.

You heard the voice sigh and say ‘you’re starting to make me feel sad, here I’ll make this a little easier for you.’ Then before you could say anything, a small yellow triangle with one eye wearing a top hat and bow tie appeared before you.

‘It’s great to finally meet you y/n.’ It said and immediately you were freaked out.

‘Who are you and how did you know my name?’ You asked, uneasy.

‘The names Bill Cipher and I know lots of things, lots of things.’ Bill replied, shrugging. ‘Wanna see what I can do?’ He adds after a brief pause but before you could answer him, he held his hand out to a nearby deer as its teeth were taken out of its mouth and into his small hand in a neat pile. ‘Deer teeth for you kid hehe.’ He then chuckled as he dumped the pile of deer teeth into your hands.

You on the other hand didn’t find this funny and fought the urge to vomit as you offered Bill the deer teeth back. ‘Mind giving the deer its teeth back? I’m sure it has more use for them than either of us.’ You ask as Bill did as you asked and gave the deer its teeth back as it galloped off elsewhere, leaving you alone with the weird triangle in the woods. Everything that had happened within the past five minutes had been overwhelming for you, too overwhelming that you had to sit yourself down on the trunk of a fallen tree and put your head in your hands, muttering to yourself.

‘This isn’t real, this is all some weird fever dream or I’m tripping balls. There’s no other explanation.’

Bill only chuckled as he floated next to you and patted you on the shoulder. ‘There, there human I can reassure you that what you just saw was very much real.’

You looked at him from your hands, unamused. ‘You fucking suck at comforting people you know that?’

‘I think we’ll get along great!’ Bill chirped gleefully.

‘We absolutely will not.’ You replied but you had an inkling that your opinion on the matter didn’t matter.

Now onto how bill would be if you were sort of ‘friends.’

He’s got a weird way about showing his feelings in any capacity.

The little shit put rats, dead rats outside your door, spelling out your name on random ass occasions that made it look like to others that a) you were haunted or b) had a weird stalker who liked to form your name out of dead rats.

He doesn’t want you having friends outside of him because and I quote ‘I’m the only friend you need, why bother with anyone else. So don’t even try cuz I’ll be watching you.’

Will leave sticky post it notes anywhere and everywhere saying to get more silly straws or else he’ll find a way to possess you and make you do embarrassing shit. Ie: walk through town in your underwear, make you speak backwards, kick a child-

Bill was a brat and his pranks were often traumatic but apparently they were ‘light’ in comparison to the stuff he did to his other meat puppets. You didn’t ask any further questions about what he meant by that in fear that he’d show you one as an example.

You are probably the only person who bill has told about his secret technique with mascara and eyeliner, even seeing him do it once when he insisted that you had a ‘sleepover’ at your place. He even points the mascara brush at you warningly as he threatened that you were to never tell people about this or else.

His version of jealousy when he sees you spending time with others is to trash your house and try to act cute when you catch him in the act. You don’t fall for this and give Bill the silent treatment for the rest of the day as he practically lost his shit over your lack of attention.

Probably air horned you awake once.

Bill Wouldn’t tell you this but he make your enemies do stupid shit that resulted in their deaths, for fun he claims but he didn’t want his favourite meat sack to start leaking water from their eyes every time something went wrong in their life. So he just cuts them out in the most brutal way possible.

Bill was stuck to you like glue and there’s was no way to hide from him as he would ultimately appears where you are, even if you’re in the fucking shower, he don’t care.

Bill: *appears in shower* my favourite meat sack have you- stop screaming it’s only me, have you seen a king cobra anywhere, I must’ve dropped it somewhere here-

He probably once threatened you with the whole ‘steal your eyes’ thing like he did with Ford but you had witness enough of Bill’s behaviour to know that he was joking about that, to which he was proud and would magically make a cake filled with worms, bugs and other unpleasant things appear in celebration.

You may or may not have been sick that day.

Your and Bills friendship was weird, probably not the healthiest in all honestly and you should seek help and or maybe therapy for the shit he’s out you through.

You were his property, you were his pet, HIS MEAT SACK and you wouldn’t be allowed to go anywhere without him knowing and or being nearby in hopes of catching your eye.

Just a yellow triangle with one eye and a top hat and bow tie floating ominously in the background was enough to unnerve anyone.

You had no freedom as far as you were concerned in this ‘friendship’ but bill likes to claim that he has given you the most freedom out of anyone who has ever existed.

[dinarosie]

Let His Story Be His Own

I believe that people have the right to create their headcanons about characters, but many fanon creators (Especially Marauders fandom) deeply believe every single sentence in this narrative and think it's canon (left image), and they insult the fans of severus snape.

To them, Snape, at best, is Lily’s toxic friend who did nothing in his life besides poisoning Neville’s toad and calling Lily a Mudblood. Yet characters like Pettigrew and Barty Crouch Jr. and Rosier are tragic heroes and victims of domestic violence!!! (The image on the right includes some signs of trauma and depression that I’ve taken from this article; you can see that Snape clearly exhibits some of these symptoms.)

It’s insane that not only do they erase Snape’s name and belittle and shame him for his psychological trauma, but they go even further and falsify his story to favor Death Eaters like Barty Crouch Jr. and Evan Rosier!

People like Rosier, Crouch, and Regulus were neither tortured nor forced into joining Voldemort due to family pressure or trauma. They joined him willingly. Rosier fought and died for Voldemort’s cause until his last breath. Crouch and Pettigrew never regretted their choices, and when given another chance (unlike Snape), they eagerly rejoined Voldemort. They were ready to kill and torture at Voldemort's command. 

Stop crafting dramatic and heroic stories for psychopaths. If you’re looking for a tragic and romantic hero, the only one in the story is Severus Snape.

He is the one described as a poor, neglected child who was abused and physically harmed by his family.

He is the small boy with black hair, crying alone in a corner, watching his mother being abused by his father.

He is the child and teenager who was publicly mocked and humiliated because of his appearance and poverty.

He is the genius child who could have become one of the greatest wizards in history, but his life was never his own. He was a soldier, a tool of war, with no chance to build the life he wanted.

He is the one who, in adulthood, exhibits clear physical and psychological signs of depression and trauma.

He is the one who, due to his insecurity and vulnerabilities, felt forced to join Voldemort in search of a place where he might find some semblance of peace and safety.

He is the one who loses the love of his life and his best friend because of Voldemort and wishes for death because of it.

He is the one willing to give up everything for love.

He is the one who has been manipulated his entire life and battles with guilt and depression.

He is the one who stands up to Voldemort, deceives him, and bravely dies to save others.

He is the one who watches all his friends and loved ones die and is powerless to save them.

It was him who was “'the bravest man I’ve ever known.'”

(That man had nothing in his life; at least let his story remain his own.)

[lady-ashfade]

Blood And Pressure

Part four

Yandere!Pjo × Fem!Grisha!reader. (Platonic yandere gods) (romantic!various characters)

-♡ Chapters: Previous // Next

-♡ this is a shadow & bone slight crossover. Reader is a heartrender and that's all really (maybe more in the future!)

-♡ words: 1k

-♡ Please note that all characters are aged appropriately, so all characters are older versions of the book characters. So 17-19 characters for these, you can choose any of them really. Just that they are older teens.

-♡ warnings: short, yandere behaviors, obsession, stalking, slightly sick love, possessive, manipulative, gaslighting, platonic yandere too, blood powers, powerful powers but not godly, and future warnings when more chapters come out.

You’d like to say you could understand everything that was happening but you had not even a small clue. You sat in the big house with your bag in hand while the two adults argue over you.

“I forbid her to leave, she’s not hera’s child,” you sink back while Mr.d points his finger at you, “she belongs here, with me.”

The god fought for you to stay with him, he kept you happy and feed, even made you smile. All for someone else to claim you? It made his blood boil and you could see it on his face as he shouts.

“She’s been claimed and even if we don’t understand, it is how things have to be.” Chiron sounded disappointed but stern. Of course he would stay up for you, like he always does. He hated for you to leave but you wanted so badly to leave them and have friends and he could understand.

“Mr.d,” you step forward to the god, “I’ll make you a promise.”

“And what’s that kid?” He hated how he spoke to you but he was just too heated that he could banish everyone kid from camp.

“I’ll come visit and play cards with you every week?” You try and bargain your time, even when the thoughts made your bones tighten at thinking of being stuck like that again.

He looked down at you with a suspicious glare while he thought it over. He didn’t have a choice but that didn’t mean he liked it. So finally he let out a breath and agreed while rushing off and mumbling under his breath.

The next stop you had was weirder.

The cabin was dark and empty. Cold and you could feel your spine shiver at the lack of heat. You glanced around but found no furniture to even sit on. No one was supposed to sleep here. Hera had no half-blood offsprings because unfaithfulness was not her way, and yet here you stand being claimed by her. And something tells you all the gods had something to do with it. Mr. D seemed to be more jealous when he spoke about the queen of gods. Like she was unworthy to have you.

“I suppose we’ll be needing to fetch some essentials for your new home.” Chiron tried to sound happy.

“Don’t worry,” you hold up your arms that carried pillows as far as you can with a reassuring smile, “I’ll survive.” and truth be told your bed was the one thing you would miss about staying there.

You find yourself walking up to the firepit and staring up at the statue of hera holding her staff. The way her eyes looked…you felt calm, but almost afraid of what it would be like to look in the real ones. She wasn’t someone to mess with while even her husband feared her wrath.

“So, Chiron?” You ask. You continue to stare up at the stone goddess. “Do you know why she claimed me.” there wasn’t much hope he’d share his insight. the centaur kept quiet for a second to consider his next words wisely.

“Just as clueless to me. Maybe we’ll get some information in the morning after a goodnight sleep.” Just as you thought. Not a peep from him.

You nod and turn around and place everything you had on the floor which wasn’t much but you were glad you had all you did. Chiron handed you the blankets with a smile on his face and for a minute it looked like he was going to cry while he looked at you.

So you open your arms wide and pull him into a hug, or what you could reach and he chuckles deeply and pats your head. In all his years you were his favorite to ever walk into this camp and to guide you. To him, camp was nothing without you.

You settled in quickly while unpacking what you could to make you feel at home. You had two blankets, one on the floor and pillows on top and the other over yourself. You tried to pick a place to the fire without burning up or being too cold.

And for the first time you were all alone to your own thoughts.

“Pst” a hushed whisper called out from no where. The voice startled you as you jump forward and grab ahold of the nearest thing, your old book.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a camper.” The voice had no body to go along with it making you confused. Was it one of Apollos children? Whoever they were they didn’t belong here.

“Says the person who stays hidden.”

The person in question lets out a laugh and then you see a figure appearing out of no where. A blue cap was the first thing you notice as they move their hand down with it grasped. A girl with a orange camp shirt, pretty eyes and blonde hair twisted into a braid.

“You grab a book to hurt me? Almost seems like you know me.” She smirked amusingly.

She had been watching you since you arrived at camp two years ago when she could, she grew to now you like no one else did. And now you’re out and into the camp with her she couldn’t let you walk without keeping a eye on you. You arrived with percy, another person she needed to watch so it was easy.

“What’s you name?” You ask the mysterious girl.

“Annabeth, consider me your guide from now on.” She walked further and stood above you. Her wicked smile seemed off just like everyone else you have seen.

“What cabin are you from? I heard some kids saying Apollos kids-” she cut you off by waving the hat in her hand.

“Athena.” You nod.

“And you’ll need me.” You tilted your head at her words and arched your brows. Need her? What was she talking about.

“For what? I mean I’m glad to have a friend but..” taking a deep breath as her eyes glint with something almost dangerous.

“For capture of the flag.”

Taglist: @maria699669 @gorgeourrific-nerd @alliriseabove @targaryenluvs @theaaeht @dabalyuteeeftia @weepingwitchofthewest @iris1587 @tulipmagnoliaisme @ameliashideout @purplerose291 @poppyflower-22 @riaaavm @anonymouslyawesome25 @orionspaperwork @a-cat-loverr @Ilpovi @eatmyassfictionalstyle @theanklebiter-blog @nasyu-kookies

[q8qwertyuiop8p]

Does Silco Know?

I'm surprised by the number of people I've talked who believe Silco is unaware of what Singed is doing to Vander, that it is all happening behind his back. Here I wanted to go over the reasons why Silco almost certainly played a roll in Warwick's creation, and perhaps even ordered it.

Weapon of War

Silco needs terrifying, never-before-seen weapons if an overwhelmingly underarmed Zaun is to scare Piltover into submission- it's why he has shimmer created and why he instructs Jinx to create Fishbones. It is likely that Warwick is intended to be another one of these wildcards.

Money and Strength

Singed's funding comes from Silco, so it would be difficult for him to hide such an audacious project. Singed also doesn't have the strength to carry shimmer-Vander's corpse away to his lab, but Silco's thugs do.

Holding On

Silco's biggest flaw is his inability to let the past and his loved ones go, and the way he, like Jinx, destroys what he loves. Silco romanticizes the betrayal and reminisces of the time he and Vander fought together. He refuses to give up on Vander, even forgiving him for the drowning and trying to reconcile. Vander has moved on, he refers to Silco as "brother" only in the past tense, but Silco continues to call Vander brother, even after the failed reconciliation and his "death." When Silco finds Jinx on the bridge, he tells Singed to keep her alive, even insists that "she can't die," despite being warned that the process will be torturous and it would be more merciful to let her go. He can't bring himself to do this because he loves her too much, too selfishly, to give her up to death or topside. Would it be that much of a stretch to suggest he did the same with Vander?

Hallucinations

After the explosion, Jinx hallucinates Vi, Mylo, and Claggor because she knows she killed them or indirectly caused their deaths. Jinx's bomb also helped to bring about Vander's demise, and she saw Vander's corpse. Despite this, she doesn't hallucinate him- not until e9, when she is already in a severe psychotic episode and Vi yells his name. Plus, in the concept for her minigun, she has scrawled "THREE LIVES" into one of the barrels. Mylo, Claggor, and Vi, but what about the fourth? It seems that Jinx may be aware that Vander is still alive, but how could she know unless Silco also knows?

When she finally does hallucinate Vander, she hallucinates scribbles of Warwick on or representing him.

So, if Silco knows, why would he talk to Vander's statue and not Warwick?

A- Privacy

Talking to Warwick means talking in the presence of Singed, who we see in e8 Silco doesn't trust. It's bad enough before you remember that not only does Silco say that Vander, who the undercity turned against, was right all along; he reveals that he is in the same spot Vander was in and is going to make the same decision; he is going to choose Jinx over Zaun, the same choice that lead to Vander's downfall. Silco is not going to risk Singed knowing that.

B- Pain

Throughout the show, Silco disassociates from pain, both his own and the pain he causes others. You can see this from the way he romanticizes his trauma, flinches and looks away at the cat being ripped apart, and reacts to the death of Renni's child. You can also see this when he kidnaps Vander- the blank, distant expression on arrival, the way he looks down and away when Benzo dies and Vander is punched, and how his good eye shines on the verge of tears. But he doesn't cry and he never does, because in his situation, to feel pain and empathy is a death sentence- the perfect way to prove your weakness and turn your allies against you. After all, it was his empathy towards Jinx that caused him to love her, and it was his love for her that turned Sevika and the chembarons against him. If killing Vander's friend and knocking him out was that painful for Silco, imagine how much worse it would be for him to see Vander disfigured, barely alive and in a constant state of mind-shattering agony, being sliced open and pumped full of chemicals. Singed had to drug Silco to keep him from going crazy over Jinx's similar transformation. Silco simply cannot bear to face the pain that he puts Vander through.

[rebeltigera]

I see, I see.

Yeah, as far as I know, Erlang and Wukong only have history because they fought a common enemy in jjtw. Because the first time they see each other they're fighting against each other, lol.

I find interesting that V!Wukong actually takes time to think what to do with Nezha, I really like how some media depicts their relationship so I'm quite happy knowing that little fact.

(Have you watched the movie "New Gods: Nezha Reborn"? It has Nezha's reincarnation as the main protagonist, but it also includes a Wukong that has given up his Buddhist learnings. He's so cool and funny. He hides himself by making others believe he's the Six Eared Macaque 👁️👁️)

Does V!Wukong also have beef with other demons? Since he didn't fight/trap DBK in his world. I suppose they didn't have bad blood between each other, or maybe they did, considering that Niu marries and has a child with a celestial. Wait, was V!Wukong's Macaque close to PIF or not?

I don't know if you have already answered this, sorry if I'm asking you repeated stuff, haha, just answer whatever you want!

—🐵🐵

IIIIIIIII have no idea what you are talking about He got beef with whole brotherhood . And no, his Mac didn't have any too close relationships with PIF in that AU . She's a friend but only to Mac .

[nelkcats]

Death sentence

We are sorry Phantom, but we need to see by yourselves if you are a threat or not, we will be visiting you tomorrow at 4:40 pm

-Justice League

Danny was unsure about his feelings, apparently the government contacted the JL to eliminate him because he was "dangerous", but Martian Manhunter, knowing the government was not always the best, convinced them, so the League leave a message to Vlad instead.

Vlad didn't want to fight with him, he published the note in Amity newspaper. Now, that was kinda...bad, not for him, but for the rest of Amity Park. It was like being sentenced to death.

While Danny freaked out the entire city was having a meeting, they didn't want the Justice League there, not near Phantom or Fenton, he was a kid, the league have a history ignoring calls and kidnapping child heroes to be part of their "society", and train them "properly". Their kid was already death, they were not going to take risks.

Amity Parkers also know they will start to choose between him as they choose between their "personas", like Phantom and Fenton were different, and yeah, the inhabitants of Amity Park can't judge, it take a while to figure out he was the same but by that point he already saved their lifes and they were already attached to him.

If the League finds out the kid was a halfa they will choose a favorites; "Phantom" being better fighter than "the civil identity Fenton", "Fenton" being intelligent "when he is not at hero work", and to be honest they understand, when a person acts different is normal to separate between the two personalities.

They will obligate him to separate himself, like the "hero" and the "civilian" needed to act different or some stupid thing like that.

But Fenton Phantom was not a personality to separate, they were the same and the small city remembered all the fights, all the favoritism, remembered when Fenton was left out because of his better "half", remembered when they needed to buy the kid an apartment far from his parents cause it taked a while for them to separate "His cute guy Dann-o" and " The Ghost scum"

And the city remembered the sobs, the adults remember leaning out their window at night and hearing the uncontrollable wailing of the ghost, allowing himself to be the scared teenager he always was.

That day, they made a promise, to accept him, all of him, he never needed to be separated in two again, he was not destined to, he was the representation of equilibrium between life and death for god sake. The kid already hidden from them for two years, two years of scars and fighting alone, and they will never repeat that error.

The Justice League have no right to break their promise. And they will never let them ruin another kid, not an Amity Parker.

So, what happened next was just natural; the next day Mr. Lancer called Sam and Tucker, told them to guide Danny to the Ghost Zone for a while, maybe entertain him with his ghost friends, they accepted.

"Team Phantom" was still active (with Dani and Val help) but they had more support than ever, and they trusted their city, all basically united by the guy who literally spends his after life protecting them.

The thing is, it was almost stupid what happened in the past, Danny was sleep deprived, his fight with Pariah ended well but the suit suck too much energy for him, that connected with his lack of sleep ended in a transformation In the middle of town, where everyone could see it.

It took a while to accept the reality, that a boy had fought with the king of the dead for a city that hated him. They even pretended to have no idea about the revelation, acting like they didn't know for another couple of weeks; Although the news spread and gossip was not lacking.

Sam and Tucker expected the other shoe to drop, but they ended surprised when the city called a reunion (since when the totally of the city reunited?), they acted like Danny bodyguards, but what they didn't expected was the Fentons unable to look at them and leave the room.

The people who stayed offered an apology (but Val wanted an explanation) and an apartment (¿the city collected money to give him an apartment far from his home? Danny wasn't sure if he was happy or heartbroken)

When the Justice League arrived the Red Huntress was waiting for them, her weapon pointing the "heroes" who frowned at the sight of the "hero" holding wepons.

"Sorry, ¿is Phantom haunt here?" Martian Manhunter asked cordially, the girl nodded "¿can we talk with him?"

"No"

"¿Why not?¿is he dangerous?¿is he hiding from us? It's okay, we can capture him if that's the case" Flash assured, hoping that would take away the tense atmosphere, the meta ghost was probably the villain of the city or something, so that made the red suit girl the hero.

"We can also give you proper training so you can stop using wepons" Wonder Woman also offered.

"First of all, that's none of your business, you don't go to Star City and ask Green arrow to stop using arrows cause you don't like them, I don't care about your training" the girl answers, obviously annoyed "second, we don't want you here, not near him"

The Martian frowned "Sorry ¿we?"

"We" the girl pointed at the city, all the city was watching them, but contrary to normal meetings they were watching them with resentment.

"Eh, ¿why? Maybe this is all a misunderstanding..." Superman was trying not to look at the people, even the kids on the street seemed to stop what they were doing just to look at them with pure hate in their eyes "can we see the major?".

"I'm here" Vlad appeared behind the girl and greeted them "I see you already meet the Red Huntress"

"Yes, ¿Do you know where Phantom is? We send a note yesterday" Batman asked, the reason of the meeting was not there after all.

"Yes, I remember, the Death Sentence you left on my door cause of the U.S government ¿right?"

"¿Death sentence? That's not-"

"Oh, but it is, you left your precious note in my office, overnight, asking us to hand you over to our local hero for you to search and see if he's a threat, ¿am I wrong?" Vlad was having fun teasing these heroes.

"Sir, we need you to understand, according to the U.S government Phantom is a dangerous individual, maybe he can even destroy your city" Superman tried

"According to the U.S government we don't exist, ¿or did you forget that information on purpose?" the huntress mocked

"I remember, but it was for your safety, the government was trying to contain the threat-"

"The Goverment this, the government that, you see superheroes, we are not ruled by the government anymore, this is a free city, since we were contained here, we produce everything on your own, food, energy, we owe nothing to the government and much less to you"

"¡But we can help you! We can get ride of your meta infestation and-" Flash was trying to mediate

"¿Meta infestation? ¿That's what they told you?, oh poor heroes, getting here with the grown information" the major laughed "Look, I will make myself clear, we have a ghost infestation, Amity Park is now a death city and we prefer it this way"

"And what about Phantom?" Martian Manhunter asked worried.

Vlad sighed "You can visit him, he likes space, however" he pointed at the other heroes "they can't, we don't need the Goverment help, we don't need your help, we are alive because of that boy and we don't want YOUR team near him, Phantom is an Amity Parker and it will stay that way" the major walked away.

"Look, ¿Martian Manhunter? You are a good guy I get it, but we don't want all of you here, the only hero we want is Phantom and we don't need your ideologies or training near him, he is OURS, so please, get out of the city while we are still being nice" Red Hunter stated.

"¿What if you need help?" Batman asked

"We needed help two years ago, the boy you want to take saved us when you decided not to take our pleas, and as such, we won't take yours" the girl said "Amity Park can take care of it's own as always, go save a city that need you"

And with that said she flew away, leaving them at the entrance of the city, the angry shouts and mutters of the citizens saying that they wanted them away in the background.

[darlingdekarios]

prūmia hen zaldrīzes.

"heart of the dragon."

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 8,317 content: Prince Aemond Targaryen x f!Lannister!reader, reader is a Lannister but is not given a specific description, Aemond is so salty and petty, arranged marriage, infidelity, smut [v fingering, f receiving oral, unprotected p in v, creampie], kinks [biting, scratching, breeding]

when he is forced to watch his twin flame marry his brother, Aemond finds a solution for coping other than burning it all to the ground.

King’s Landing, 120 AC

“I’m sorry for your eye, Prince Aemond,” you whispered, your voice quiet and sincere as the boy you’d spent so many years of your childhood with avoided your gaze with the perfect eye he still had. “I came as soon as I was told what happened.”

All he could muster was a firm nod, the sweet boy you often encountered now tucked away inside crushing self-consciousness as he sat before you. Still, despite his unease at his bandaged face, he found it within himself to remark the pride he felt for himself. “I lost an eye but gained a dragon. I would make the trade again.”

You had to smile at his subtle insistence to impress you, to cover the aura of dread he seemed to be exuding. “A worthy trade indeed, my prince.”

His good eye finally found your face, his harsh resolve fading at the softness that covered your features. Only months younger than Aemond and the sole daughter of Lord Lannister, you had spent much of your childhood in the Red Keep beside the Targaryen children. With your father’s place at Viserys’ Court, you spent more time at the Capital than within the walls of Casterly Rock, and while Helaena had always been a wonderful friend, it was Aemond you often found yourself beside. Now, at the darkest night in his life, it would be no different, and the gratitude shown through his features. He could never hide his truest self from you. 

“My face doesn’t make you want to scream?” he questioned, the anger at his own mutilation doing wonders at hiding the genuine concern he felt at how you’d respond to his new appearance – even as a child, Aemond always basked in your approval. 

“Only because you must be in pain,” you reassured, your soft voice sincere in ways no one else ever was with him. His gaze lingered on yours for a moment, almost as if he was waiting for you to laugh, so used to being on the receiving end of a joke these days but was met only with your kindness as your warm hand covered his own. With the subtlest of squeezes, you quieted your voice to barely above a whisper. “I shall put out Lucerys’ eye for your next name day.”

For the first time since the incident Aemond felt his lips curve into a light smile, anxiety’s grasp on his heart lightening. “Viserys says Lord Strong is not to be hurt,” he remarked, the distaste for his father’s decision and forsaking of his own son shining through his voice. “It is an embarrassment. It is shameful. I will have to sit here and have my bandages changed daily by…”

“Me,” you offered, your voice earnest and hopeful. If it would not cause him pain his eyebrows would have pulled together in visible bewilderment – why anyone would offer to see him in the state he was in was beyond him. You offered a gentle smile and gave his hand another squeeze, repeating your offer to help him understand. “I will have the Maester teach me the proper way tomorrow, and then I will do it for you, Aemond.”

It would both confuse and comfort Aemond every day for the coming months when you found your way to his door promptly, gentle hands providing a better, more caring bandaging than anyone else had offered. 

King’s Landing, 123 AC

“He is insufferable,” Aemond gritted through his teeth, his jaw popping in irritation as he fought to remain composed before you. You had seen him in much worse states than this in your younger years when he had less of a cool control over his emotions, but it had been quite some time since you had heard this tone behind his words. “Laughing at me because I don’t wish to bed whores like he does.”

“He is only jealous because he has to pay people to like him, my Prince,” you spoke, coming to sit beside him before his fireplace. His good eye met your gaze, the smallest bit of his frustration dissipating under your gentle expression. 

The years that had passed since he had lost his eye had only pulled the two of you closer together, your own mother having passed due to fever. Pained by the resemblance you bore to your mother, your father had all but abandoned you at the Red Keep – any time apart from one another was due to Aemond’s absence, not your own. In a world where both of you found backs turned to you, you always found one another – the familiarity so comforting it was impossible to give up. 

“Even still, my lady – his words have point,” he spoke, falling into the sweetness you presented him with. Resting your hand on top of his between the two of you, you held onto his every word – ever the one to make him feel important and desired. “I am thirteen and, according to Aegon, I’m hardly even a man because I won’t let one of his whores kiss me.”

The silence lingered as you soaked in his words, the crackling of the fireplace lulling you into a comfortable state. With his hand beneath yours you were once again reminded how warm Aemond was, and how it always seemed to invite you closer whether you were conscious of it or not. “Is it truly so important to have been kissed?”

“I care more for other things,” he stated simply, while inside his mind he found no calm. “But I do wish to have a reason to quiet him.”

A nod confirmed your understanding, a quiet hum leaving your lips in approval. Without much more than a minute of thought you leaned across to him, pressing your lips to his in a chaste, delicate and inexperienced kiss. Aemond, always quick to action, found for the first time in a long time he was caught off guard, frozen to his place as you gifted him (and yourself) his first kiss.

The next time Aegon taunted his younger brother for having not been kissed over dinner, Aemond was proud to report that he had, in fact. Despite the queen turning her head to analyze her son’s proud expression, she hadn’t missed the redness to your cheeks or the quick giggle you had to silence. Though she very easily could have, Alicent Hightower kept the kiss a shared secret – even from the two of you. 

King’s Landing, Winter 128 AC

Lowering your cloak’s hood and taking a step into the darkness you found yourself being pushed toward the stone wall, familiar hands grasping your shoulders. As you turned your gaze upward to take in the sight of his shining blue eye and eye patch you found the harshness of his expression. 

“What are you doing? Have you lost all sanity?” he questioned, leaning his face closer to yours. Now that he was a teenager, he had begun to tower over you, his height serving an obvious intimidation advantage. 

“I wanted to see you so I…I snuck through the castle and the city to here, and I thought…I’d find you down here,” you explained, your rationale doing nothing to soothe his pounding heart. “I’ve often wondered what the lower parts of the dragon pit were like.”

“I have heard curiosity often kills the cat,” he replied, one of his hands leaving your shoulder to cup your face, his thumb brushing gently against the expanse of your cheek. “Dovodedha kēlītsos…this is no place for you.”

It was impossible not to lean into his hand more, embracing the warmth you so often craved these days. As Aemond grew older and responsibility loomed on his head, his hours training and hunting and flying grew, time away from you being a cruel result of that. And for your part, you had been returned to Casterly Rock a year prior due to your father wishing to keep you closer again, wishing to fend off those who sought betrothal to you, remarking often that none of them were good enough for his daughter. The most contact you’d received from your closest companion was through raven or middleman, the occasional visit atop Vhagar from him – when he had the time.

The moment you’d arrived in King’s Landing you’d wanted to see Aemond. And truth be told, if he had known of your arrival beforehand, there would have been nothing to keep him from greeting you. Your intention to surprise him by not giving warning of your visit had backfired, but Helaena had rescued the day by telling you where to find her brother. This close you could see the slick sweat to his brow, the subtle flare to his nostrils that signified his annoyance. 

It was a secondary feeling – what he truly felt was concern. 

“And yet I am still alive before you, unharmed, my Prince,” you taunted, your voice low and smooth and brimming with joy at being so near to him again. His hand on your cheek slid further, fingers entangling in your hair gently to refamiliarize himself with the texture. 

“Only because I found you first, kēlītsos.”

“I wanted to be found.”

The smallest smile formed on his lips, a gentle shake to his head further proving his amusement. “I have missed you and your recklessness. You truly have the bravery of a lion, though I doubt you have the nine lives.”

His smile was returned by your own, your hands finding way to either side of his neck delicately. “I have missed you as well, Aemond,” you spoke quietly, fingernails grazing his skin lightly on the back of his neck and creating goosebumps across his skin. 

Strong emotions rushing through him paired with the hormones of a teenager had him claiming your lips in a bruising kiss next, critical words lost to him as he lost himself in your features. This time, neither of you were caught off guard, the kiss returned immediately and met with a hum of approval. His grip on your hair tightened slightly as his tongue sought a taste of your lips, his own hum vibrating in his chest as your fingers found way to his hair as well. 

As you allowed your jaw to relax and his tongue to enter your mouth his free hand grasped your hip, pulling your waist forward and into his, so he could grind his hardening cock into you, greedily swallowing the moan it pulled from you. Recognizing the danger that going further posed he was the one to reluctantly break the hungry kiss, and he who resisted kissing you again as he escorted you to the Red Keep. 

If he had known taking you back to those who awaited you meant hearing his mother announce you were to marry Aegon, he would have fled with you atop Vhagar. Despite his best efforts, his family was still finding new ways to play jokes on him. This was the cruelest yet.

King’s Landing, Spring 129 AC

The months that followed were a harsh realization of your new reality. 

Ever since, that day had been the first thought to your mind in the morning and the thing that you cried yourself to sleep over every night. Though Alicent Hightower’s announcement that the King had decided to honor tradition and name his eldest son the true heir to the crown (something you felt had to do with how heavily sedated and agreeable he was, not that you’d voice that opinion to any other than Aemond), it was the second part of her speech that ripped your heart from your chest. You would wed her eldest son and unify the crown and the Lannisters, a truly monumental occasion for the realm. 

The words were those of two fathers – hers and your own – plotted with only greed in their hearts. Alicent did not relish in passing the news, and dreaded what it would do to her son, and yet that did not stop her from doing so. While you had attempted to make your objection to the match known, your words had no weight, and your future was decided behind your back. Aemond had returned to the Dragon Pit and did not return to the Red Keep for days. Even when he had returned, he would avoid you for the first time in your lives. 

It took only months for the betrothal to move forward. With King Viserys the Peaceful dead by Spring and the Conqueror’s crown placed upon Aegon’s head, it become imperative to demonstrate to the people of Westeros that their new King was worthy of the throne his father had bestowed on him. This of course meant marrying a woman from a highly regarded family and bringing children into his bloodline (not that he hadn’t already). 

“We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wi-“

The septon’s words were cut short by the familiar bellow of a creature far older than any other present, the familiar flap of impossibly large wings shooting a gust of wind directly over your wedding ceremony. The Queen of All Dragons landed with a harsh quake to the ground, your hand shooting out to the archway over you to steady yourself, Helaena rushing forward to assist you. 

“You’re late to your own brother’s wedding, Aemond,” Alicent Hightower hissed through her teeth, attempting to maintain the smile she had plastered on her face as she watched her eldest son ignore the opportunity to assist his betrothed.

“Truthfully, mother, you should be lucky I am here at all,” the one-eyed prince replied, the sincerity behind his words unsurprising. “It is blasphemous. The one person in this world I truly care for, that I have no obligation to do so, and you stick her with my cunt of a brother.”

“Your words are treason, Aemond. Aegon is your king now,” she chastised, her glare fixating on him momentarily with the brief turn of her head. 

“Apologies, mother – my cunt of a king,” he replied, stepping backward and away from further ridicule. His step was matched by his mother – one of two people he could never seem to hide from.

“Aemond…I know this is difficult for you, my sweet boy,” she began, her voice soft and diplomatic. A couple of years younger and he may have faltered, but not now. Not when he faced a waking nightmare before him. “I do hope that one day when you find a suitable wife for yourself, you will understand the decision we’ve made.”

“I will not find a suitable wife and I will not marry,” came his reply, voice unwavering and absolute. “If I am not to marry her, I am not to marry at all.”

“I have faith that you will see reason and change your mind.”

Aemond turned his face back to his mother, jaw popping in frustration as he did so. It was subtle, anyone unfamiliar with the prince would not notice the movement – his own mother did, of course. “The woman standing across from Aegon sat beside me while every stitch on my face was opened, the hole where my eye used to be pried apart, and a sapphire inserted into it. She never released my hand, she never looked away. And now you marry her to someone who can’t tell his own hand from a whore.”

“Be that as it may, it is done,” the former queen continued, the remorse in her voice showing itself slightly. She knew, all too well, what it was like to lose love because of duty. “We may talk about this more later, sweet boy.”

“There is no need, mother. As you say,” he continued, placing his arms behind his back carefully. “It is done.”

The remainder of the ceremony went without additional surprise. Aemond desperately wished to be free of this obligation, his annoyance showcased on his face regardless of whose eyes may have caught glimpse of him. His only comfort came from the look that remained on your face – solemn, unimpressed, unchanging; even when Aegon had kissed you. It was the first time Aemond had seen so very little of a reaction to one of his brother’s kisses, and the display of indifference both satisfied something deep with Aemond and caused his stomach to churn. Your wedding day should have been so much better than this – you deserved so much better than this, than Aegon. 

It was a relief to his unsettled stomach when he saw you alone on a balcony during the feast to celebrate you – to celebrate the marriage and the new queen. Still, even with the food, the wine, and the gifts, Aemond had not seen your lips curl to a smile once the entire day. Though he wasn’t entirely certain he could contain himself from doing something foolish by claiming this moment of your attention, he opted to throw that caution to the wind. You were his to be foolish with.

He sauntered toward you with hands behind his back still, pleased when you turned as he approached within an arm’s length of you. For the first time all day he watched as you rivaled the full moon behind you with a smile.

“My Prince,” you greeted, eyes flashing up at him in profound appreciation. 

“Your Grace,” he bowed his head slightly in return, a small smirk flashing on his features as he peered up at you between his lashes. He’d worn the eye patch you’d specifically had crafted for him in Lannisport – you had to wonder if it was an intentional show of your bond or not. He caught the way your eyes lingered, filled with uncertainty. Aemond was the first to put his swarming thoughts to spoken word.

“This should be our wedding day, kēlītsos,” he began, his eye burning into yours as he took a step closer – another and it may be considered indecent. “I wonder if that fact haunts you as it does me.”

Being this close to him always set your body alight, the heat blazing beneath every inch of your skin and begging for the coolness that accompanied his lips. “Every moment,” you replied, your voice quiet and so intentionally only for him. “You should have taken me across the sea on Vhagar where no one would follow or find us.”

The corners of his mouth barely twitched upward in a smile – the first you’d seen from him in months – your words almost pulling a growl from his chest. One of his gloved hands twitched toward yours, his fingers lightly grazing against your wrist, tempting him to pull you closer and closer until no one, not even his brother, could take you away from him. It was foolish to speak this way so openly with so many potential listeners nearby, but neither of you truly cared. “It may happen still.”

“Is this your way of telling me you love me, Prince Aemond? It is not immensely traditional, I’m afraid,” you taunted, eyes finding his face again and appreciating his features. “Though, I suppose it is your rebellious heart that has won my love, as well.”

“Sister,” Helaena greeted as she interrupted the moment between the two of you, his expression immediately hardening as he withdrew his hand from your wrist again. “I wish to walk in the garden with you before you retire to bed. Would you join me?”

With a final longing glance you departed, joining your sister-in-law for one of her nightly walks, growing ever-more dread-filled as the time passed and your return to your wedding duties continued. Soon enough, you thought, Aegon would be crawling between your legs, no doubt smelling like wine and dirt and dragons in the least endearing of ways. The thought made your stomach twist into knots more and more until the Princess had walked you back to your bedchamber, entering the warm room with you. 

“The dragon sings at the moon’s brightest hour.”

She departed then, leaving you alone with a puzzled look on your face as multiple handmaidens joined you to remove the elegant gown that weighed you down, allow you to bathe, and help you into night clothes, removing your hair from the intricate style to lay loose. They put more wood on the fire and withdrew, remarking that one of the girls, Marleya, would be around should you need her. It was ironic to know that your husband regularly found himself buried in her, when he was failing to fulfill his obligation to you on your wedding night. Between the walk and the routine the handmaidens had carried out, hours had passed, and while you still felt the looming dread that Aegon may call on you, it had twisted into something far more pathetic. Soon you were sat on the open window overlooking the city, fixing your eyes to the sky with a forlorn expression covering your face as you envied what it would feel like to be able to fly away at any moment.

You were not the only one in the Red Keep troubled by your thoughts, as Aemond found himself wandering the halls since you had departed from him. Though he tried to think of something else, anything else, he could not prevent his thoughts from wandering back to his brother likely consummating his marriage, claiming something from you he had no right possessing. It made him sick to think of the way Aegon would treat you for the first time, almost sick enough to manifest fully. 

He hadn’t planned to walk past Aegon’s room, and yet that’s exactly where his feet carried him shortly after 11, the familiar halls as he approached causing him to draw in deeper, steadier breaths, preparing himself for whatever he may hear. As he rounded the final corner he was greeted with the sight of his stumbling, drunken older brother holding the door to his bedchamber open for one…two…three…four…working women from King’s Landing, their quiet giggles being shushed by him until they were all nestled inside with him close behind. When the door closed with a heavy thud, Aemond released a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. 

If Aegon was partaking in his usual activities, that meant you were alone. And while it pleased him to know his brother had not pulled you into his bed just yet, it also made the anger burn inside of him. This was, after all, your wedding night and you had looked so beautiful in his house colors – and now you were alone. 

It was approaching the middle of the night when your thoughts were interrupted. 

“Your Grace,” came the voice of Marleya. She was quiet, timid – not wanting to interrupt the state she knew you were in but unable to refuse what had been asked of her. “Apologies for the interruption. Prince Aemond has come to request a word with you, my Queen.”

When you heard the light fall of his boots against the stone floor you inhaled a deep breath, trying to steady your breathing so you could talk without giving away your emotional state. Although you wanted to seek the comfort you had so often found in his face you kept your eyes forward, back to him as you continued to look at the night sky. When his footsteps silenced relatively close behind your position you inhaled another deep breath to prepare yourself for whatever additional torment was fated for your night. 

“Your Grace,” came his quiet timbre, the moniker pulling a sigh from you. Hearing anything but your name from him sounded so foreign – so wrong. 

“Yes, Prince Aemond,” you managed in response, mentally thanking yourself for the composure you kept over your words. 

“I have come to pass news of your…good husband,” he began, his words laced with venom and disgust. Judging by his words, your handmaiden had lingered in the bedchamber, so you were not alone with another man – improper indeed on your wedding night. “I feel it best if the information is delivered between family.”

You briefly turned your head to direct a glance at the girl, who was not much younger than you, offering a light smile. “Thank you, Marleya. I am in safe hands with my…brother. You may retire for the night.”

The girl nodded before exiting, closing the door to the bedchamber as she went. Aemond watched her go, confirmed the door was closed with a lingering glance before turning his eyes to the back of your head. You had returned your gaze to the stars twinkling above the sky, wondering how it would feel to be there – to be so very far away. 

“I thought that your Grace should be informed that I have witnessed our King entering his own bedchamber not long ago,” he started, almost expecting you to turn to watch him speak. It was curious when you did not look in his face when he spoke. “He seemed to be quite full of alcohol. Not to worry, though, he had escorts to ensure his…satisfactory retirement for the night. You need not wait for his arrival here.” He watched as your shoulders lowered with the release of a shaky breath, the visible signification of your faltering anxiety. 

“Is this all, Prince Aemond? You’ve come to remind me my good husband is a drunken whoremonger?” you questioned; harsh words softened by the meekness in your voice. Despite your insistence to keep your face from him and hide your tears, your voice had begun to shake – as had your shoulders. Aemond was familiar with both. 

He stepped forward, the sound of his boots drawing nearer both sending your body alight and filling it with dread. When he stood just behind you his arms wrapped around you from behind, pulling you back against his chest as he had done so many times. You wondered if this would be the last. “What troubles you? I should think it is a comfort my brother will not summon you tonight,” he spoke lightly, lowering his head down to rest his chin atop your head. 

“A woman’s wedding is supposed to be the greatest day of her life,” you began, forsaking strength in his arms and relying on him to support you. “And yet I feel like my life has been ripped away from me.”

“It is unfair, your Grace,” he began, his warmth radiating through you and settling into a familiar comfort deep within you that only he could bring. His voice was so soft, so sincere, so unlike it had been each time you had heard him speak in the last few months. “My brother is a fool to ignore such a beautiful bride. You were art brought to life in our house colors.”

You released another deep breath you didn’t fully realize you were holding, the relaxation in your torso allowing him to wrap his arms around you tighter. Even now you wore the Targaryen colors – a thin black night dress and an even longer, lighter red robe. Aemond wanted nothing more than to pin you against the wall like the art he viewed you as – even more now with your face free of additions and hair left loose. You raised onto your knees, turning simultaneously to plant yourself in his arms fully, chest pressed to his in an inherently indecent manner consider your new titles. Neither of you had ever cared for such.

You titled your head back to allow him a true look at your face – cheeks streaked with tear trails, bottom lip red and swollen from your incessant biting, and eyes red, glossy and puffy from undoubted hours of crying. Even under the despair in your eyes he could see the lingering hope, the love that burned for him hiding in the depths and screaming to break free. He raised one hand to cup your cheek in it, the cool leather coming against your warm cheek cueing a shiver up your spine. 

Without giving you a chance to stop them more tears spilled over your cheeks, his glove soaking up the tears on one of your cheeks. Having spent so much time around Aemond in your life you knew what the subtle looks behind his remaining eye meant. That fact was doing nothing to help sedate the burning you felt for him as you met his gaze, facing the concern, the care and the longing he was harboring directly. The intensity caused your breath to catch in your throat.

“Īlē ñuhon, kēlītsos, [You were mine, little cat]” he sighed, leaning his forehead against yours and closing his eye. His perfect nose lightly brushed against yours, his arms wrapping around your waist tighter. He reveled in the way you melted to him, joining your form to his in a way that was so unique to the two of you. “I should have claimed you long ago.”

His thumb began to brush lightly against your cheek, the desire to free himself of his gloves and feel you again growing stronger. Your breath caught in your throat briefly before you found the word you sought in a language so different from your own, albeit hardly above a whisper. “Ñuhon.”

“Kessa, kēlītsos, [Yes, little cat]” he breathed, the tip of his nose kissing yours lightly. “Lions, like dragons, do not belong to people. We belong to ourselves. But you have always been mine, and I have always been yours.” He brushed your cheek again gently, his fingertips so uncharacteristically light as the fire behind his eyes burned into yours. “You may be his wife to the kingdom, but the gods know you are mine.”

You felt more tears spill over your lashes, a sigh falling from your lips as Aemond twisted his head barely, pressing his lips to one of your cheeks to kiss the tear away. You only melted into him further, nuzzling your face into his hand that still rested on your cheek. It was a crime to be certain, his next move – and yet there was nothing truly wrong with the way he turned his head again, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss so soft it was nostalgic of the first you’d shared years ago now. Although you should have pulled away, or at the very least hesitated, you returned his kiss without second thought. When he spoke next his words were muffled by your lips.

“I came to do what my brother will not and give you a proper wedding night,” he began, pressing another kiss to your lips when his thought was complete. “If it is not your wish, stop me now. I will listen to your command – I will leave these walls and not speak of this again if you ask it.”

You almost hesitated, almost took a moment to consider your answer, but threw any caution to the wind by granting him another kiss – rougher, needier, more desperate and yet still softer than Aemond felt he’d ever deserve. He grasped you tighter, his fingertips indenting into the soft skin on your cheek as his other hand clutched the fine fabric on your lower back, holding you closer to him. 

“I do love you, kēlītsos [little cat],” he muttered against your lips, unwilling to pull away but needing to say the words aloud nonetheless. “I have thought the words so many times now and never found it in myself to say them, though I should have before now.”

His hands left you to work on his own tunic, content with baring himself in some way to you first as he awaited your response. Your lips claimed his in another kiss before you found quiet words to whisper to him. “I have loved you for so long, Aemond, but he…he would kill me for this.”

“He wouldn’t dream of ordering harm to you with me to face.”

How long had he been thinking about this? Had he wanted to do this for years? Had he been considering taking you for months before Aegon could leading up to your wedding, or had something finally snapped in his mind today? Regardless of when it had happened – his mind was made up, and there was nothing that could be said to change his mind. 

He discarded the thick black fabric from his torso to the floor, uncaring where it landed before he claimed your lips in another full kiss, his hands making busy with the thin tie around your waist. Craving the way he’d kissed you in the dragon pit only months ago you parted your lips for him, his tongue immediately staking claim on the warmth of your mouth. As he pushed the robe from your shoulders, he carefully placed the clothing on a surface close by, taking much more care in your belongings than his own. There was nothing worth doing so fast he couldn’t show you that he cared for you – deeply. The extra time would never be a bother with you.

He was thankful your night dress was thin and loose enough to slide down your shoulders carefully, his head bowing to press kisses down the top of one of your shoulders as he pushed the straps free, hands grasping your hips to pull you close. When the bare skin of your torsos met both of you released a sigh, Aemond tucking his head into your neck and holding you close for a moment, relishing in the warmth passing between the two of you. This close you could feel his heartbeat, and the raised skin of whatever wounds he’d found himself on the receiving end of already, so young in many ways and old in several more. 

His lips started trailing up your neck, pulling a quiet gasp from you as your hands grasped his shoulders. He slid his hands to your lower back again to hold you as close as possible as his lips trailed lower, brushing over your collarbone. Aemond had been patient, and he could be for a while longer – as long as he got to feel as much of you as possible beneath his fingertips and lips.

He held you against him tightly, moving the two of you in front of the fireplace so he could see your body under the warm glow of the flames. As you followed his silent instruction your hands slid down his torso, eyes running over every inch of him hungrily as your fingers traced over the old scars you’d felt against you moments ago. He grasped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head backward so you would gaze up at him, and with your attention where he wanted it, he reached his other hand to cup one of your breasts, rubbing his thumb over your already hardened nipple gently. He sank to his knees in front of you slowly, covering you with feather-light kisses as he went, his every movement laced with intent as his kisses trailed to your hips. 

Though the heat that spread throughout your body had created a fog that shrouded your mind, you found a moment of clarity. Reaching your hands to hold the sides of his face carefully and applying just enough pressure for him to respond you lifted him back up to you, sliding one of your hands to rest on his shoulder. You pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth before trailing them up the side of his face gently before brushing them, impossibly light and so full of love, across the lower part of the old scar that still brought him pain. The hand that still rested on his cheek slid to the back of his head, fingers dancing over the strap that secured the covering to his face. 

“Kostilus [please],” you whispered gently, your quiet request filling his ears and pulling a gentle sigh from his lips. “I don’t wish for you to be hidden from me, Aemond.” It was the only time you were assertive with him, running your nose along his cheek to press a kiss beneath his ear. His breath caught in his throat, hands grasping at your waist as a quiet groan rumbled in his chest. He gave a firm nod, and you immediately pulled the patch free from his head, lying it carefully on the lounge next to you before whispering a quiet thank you. 

“I see my sister has been teaching you to mind your manners in our ancestral tongue,” he purred, sliding one of his hands up your back to run his hand over your hair, encouraging you to look at him. The moment you tilted your head back for him he claimed your lips, only momentarily before he withdrew to give you a moment to run your eyes over his face appreciatively. 

“Vhagar is the most fearsome dragon alive, and she wears many scars,” you cooed, leaning forward to press a kiss to the upper half of the scar on his face, your hand resting on his cheek to allow your thumb to brush over the bottom half. “The strongest dragons always do.”

While he wanted to claim your lips again in a kiss, he couldn’t hold himself back any further, lifting you into his arms to carry you to the bed as he gazed down into your face with an expression that melted further into love the longer it went on. He laid you in the bed with your head against the pillow before he crawled between your legs, encouraging your legs apart with the gentle caress of his hands. His lips followed his fingers on their path, soaking in the quiet mewls that he was already pulling from you. With your sex bared to him he could see your wet arousal leaking from your entrance, your thighs slick with the arousal he’d brought on.

He slid one of his hands higher up your thigh, a singular finger gathering some of the slick before he brought it to his face, popping the digit into his mouth with an appreciative hum. A wave of heat crashed through you accompanied by a gasp as your mouth fell open, the expression pulling a quiet chuckle from him as he lowered his head down, licking a stripe up the inside of your thigh with another low hum.

“Every inch of you is more beautiful than my mind could have done imagined,” he whispered into your skin before pressing a gentle kiss to your thigh. With one last glance to your face, he moved forward, running his tongue between your folds and grasping your thighs, holding you down slightly as you moaned for him. Wanton and greedy, he ran his tongue through your folds several more times before he could speak again. “I should throw you atop Vhagar now and flee so my brother may never taste you.”

With those final parting words, he dove into your awaiting sex, his tongue devouring you hungrily as the knowingly quiet symphony of your moans filled the bedchamber. He flicked the muscle over your swollen bundle of nerves, causing your hips to buck up slightly which only resulted in him grabbing you tighter, holding you against his face. Running his tongue downward again he dipped it inside your awaiting heat, groaning at the feeling. 

Alternating between licks and sucks against your sensitive clit and fucking his tongue into you hastened the pressure building inside your lower half, your breaths becoming desperate as your thighs shook against his head. Feeling your walls flutter around his tongue he finally connected a thumb to your clit, rubbing it with the gentlest of circles as white-hot euphoria blinded your vision, his other hand reaching to clamp down over your mouth to stifle the scream that left your chest. Disconnecting his mouth from you, he continued his gentle movements with his thumb, his eyes gazing up to your face like he’d just discovered some fabled hidden treasure.

“I could stay here for hours feasting on you, beloved,” he cooed, leaning forward to lap up more of your nectar with a low groan in his chest. 

“Please, Aemond…” you whined, already sensitive and satisfied and yet desperate for more. 

“You want me to keep my head between your thighs, my Queen?” he pondered with that cocky, overly smug tone that always made you squeeze your thighs together. Another quiet whimper fell from your lips as you shook your head, breaths still desperate and mind still hazy from your orgasm.

“No, Aemond, I need you…please,” you began, shifting your hips against his hand to attempt for more pressure as his lips began to trail back up your body. He flattened his hand against your mound, allowing you to rub yourself on him – your desperation doing nothing to sedate his smirk. “Kostilus [please]. Don’t be cruel to me.”

His lips reached yours then, a gentle kiss carefully tucked into the corner of your mouth before he settled himself between your legs, leaning back on his haunches carefully. “Daor sir, gevie mēre [not yet, beautiful one],” he began, raking his eyes over your flushed figure beneath him in appreciation. “I have to open you up for me first.”

The hand that was still settled at your core dipped lower, one of his fingers teasing at your entrance in slow, tantalizing circles. When he’d pulled another moan from you and watched your face falter as you did, he slipped his index finger into your awaiting velvet channel. He felt your body tense at the intrusion, your walls clenching around his finger immediately. He wiggled it slightly, clicking his tongue against his teeth – more-so in concentration rather than disappointment. 

“Lykirī,” he cooed as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I cannot make you feel good if you don’t relax yourself for me, beloved.” You could only lean your forehead to his as you nodded, closing your eyes and inhaling in a deep breath. He withdrew the digit from you before thrusting it back in again slowly, the edges of his lips ticking upward as you released a quiet whimper. “That’s better.”

Within minutes he had relaxed you, his finger circling and wiggling inside of you with each thrust, pulling more moans from you as your body became accustomed to his movements. He added a second finger soon after, causing a gasp to fall from your lips and your hips to buck forward against his hand. Pressing another kiss to your lips he then trailed them lower again, sucking your swollen clit between his lips gently as he curled his fingers inside to rub against the rough patch behind your clit. 

“A-Aemond…” you moaned, earning a groan from him as he then flicked his tongue against your clit, massaging it gently as he continued to wiggle his fingers against the spot deep within you that was causing your thighs to begin to shake again. When he began to suck on the sensitive bundle of nerves again a second wave of euphoria washed over you, a rush of wetness covering his hand as he pleasured you through the orgasm. 

Removing his fingers from you and chuckling quietly and the whimper you released from the loss, Aemond moved to stand beside the bed, working himself free of his pants which had begun to painfully restrict his throbbing cock. Once his member was free, he wrapped his fingers around it, stroking himself as he watched your breathing return to somewhat of a normal state, eyes roaming over your body appreciatively and the wetness that already covered your bed clothes. 

When you opened your eyes again and turned your head to gaze up at him you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed over. His free hand grasped one of yours gently, guiding it upward toward his cock in silent suggestion. When you wrapped your lithe fingers around his member he threw his head back in a moan, the noise turning to a low, rumbling growl in his chest as you mirrored his stroking movements from moments before.

Unable to deny his needs any longer he climbed back onto the bed between your legs, sighing at the loss when you removed your hand from him but appeasing himself by rubbing his cock against your core. Wrapping his own hand around himself again, he rubbed his leaking head between your folds to gather some slick against it. “Beg me again, my love. You sound so gorgeous when you beg for me.”

“Please, Aemond,” you breathed out, wrapping your legs around his waist in knowing anticipation. “Kostilus [please].”

He pushed into you slowly then, his thick cock sliding into your entrance and pulling an almost too loud cry from your lips, the protest silenced by his lips soon. His lips molded to yours as your hot channel took inch by inch of him, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he finally felt your tight walls embrace him. When he was fully sheathed inside you, he licked across the seam of your lips, stilling his waist as he kissed you deeply for several moments. 

When your legs around his waist started to relax just a bit and your walls fluttered around him, he slowly withdrew from you before pushing his cock back in to the hilt, pulling away from the kiss to hear the moan that left your lips. 

“So tight,” he breathed against your mouth quietly, beginning to repeat his slow and intentional thrusts. “I should have been enjoying your little cunt for years now.”

You could only whine at his words, too overstimulated and focused on how full you felt and the lingering pain of being stretched this way for the first time to form coherent words. His hair fell beautifully over his shoulders and brushed against your torso with his movements, a piece covering his eye from your view. When you lifted a hand to move the piece away from his face he smiled, turning his head to press his lips into your fingers before moving his kisses to your neck.

“Oh, the way you feel around me…” he groaned before pressing a kiss beneath your ear, his pace already picking up slightly. You were so tight and warm around him and he had wanted you for so long, the sheer feeling of finally being inside of you was not going to allow him a long session with you. There would, of course, be others, likely even in the same night – but for now he could only give in to the pleasure filling every cell in his body. “I’m going to come back here every night until I have filled your womb with my babe.”

You nearly moaned too loud again, your walls fluttering around him at his brazen, forbidden words. He lifted his head to gaze into your eyes again, leaning to press a kiss against your lips to assist you with muffling your cries as he picked up his pace more, grinding his hips into yours each time he’d gone as far as he could go. Though you were already feeling weak you managed to nod enough for him to register, your confirmation pulling a smile across his face. 

“Oh, you like that, kēlītsos?” he questioned, giving another particularly slow and intentional thrust to massage his velvety head against the spot deep within you. You moaned his name quietly, a worthy award for his efforts. “You want me to empty my seed into you? Speak it.”

“Yes, Aemond,” you whimpered immediately, knowing he would require an answer, knowing he needed to feel that power over you. His pace picked up again as another growl ripped through his chest, the lewd sounds of your bodies joining together creating a dizzying symphony in the room that he would gladly listen to forever.

“We will create the perfect dragon,” he replied, letting his intentions be fully known on the chance you hadn’t understood yet. “Strong, and smart, and beautiful, and powerful…much better children than Aegon could hope to give you.”

You nodded your agreement, moving your lips against his slowly, almost cautiously in a kiss to silence another loud cry that came from his lips as he rocked against your cervix. One of his hands reached to grasp yours, lifting it above your head as he lowered his own to connect his mouth to one of your budded nipples, suckling at it with fervor in the hopes it would push you closer to the edge. 

Your breaths soon became more desperate, legs shaking around his waist as the hand that wasn’t being held in his found way to the back of his head, your fingers lacing into his hair. He disconnected his mouth from your tit with a gentle bite to your nipple, an almost sinister smirk covering his features as you cried out for him again. “Will you release for me again, beloved? Find euphoria with me,” he almost begged, quickly adjusting his words to a simple instruction. 

You nodded, vision going white again as he reconnected his mouth to yours, kissing you with more passion than he had thus far. With your walls clenching him tightly he found his own release, hot spurts of his cum painting your walls as a loud cry of his own ripped through his chest, thankful once again that your mouth swallowed most of the volume. 

At the same time Aemond’s sound of pleasure filled the bedchamber the familiar cry of Sunfyre was heard above the castle, an interruption in the night sky no doubt caused by the new king taken a drunken flight to impress his chosen whores for the night. As Aemond released your mouth from his when his orgasm had finished, he leaned his head against your shoulder to speak through bated breaths. 

“Perhaps he will fall from his dragon and become so injured I must rule in his stead.”

masterlist.

[leashybebes]

i'm going to chew my own arm off, that magical realism thing from this morning on four hours of sleep is invading my brain and i do not have time, but now i'm imagining the breakup in this context, how buck saying he feels comfortable because tommy feels comfortable and tommy freaking out because what if? i will very likely not get around to writing this thing properly so in case, here's the contents of my brain

He's certainly never done it to Evan deliberately, but when he was younger it used to happen by accident that the feeling he'd clumsily pushed at people was the vague feeling that things were good - that they felt good - when he was around. He knows he's never done it on purpose, but what he's wanted this whole time was for Evan to be comfortable and it turns out he was so damn comfortable that they've stumbled across this huge, sudden scary thing that he doesn't know what to do with.

Thinking god, what if he did and this is where it's led, and if he didn't, what if he does because he wants to keep Evan so much, wants it more than he's ever wanted anything, more even than he wanted friends and a route out of the house as a child. He wants and he wants, and apparently Evan wants too, and it's the most terrifying thing that's ever happened to him in a lifetime of being afraid.

And if there's one thing Tommy Kinard has known his whole life, it's that his father's son cannot be a good man. There are other things that make him go, but the sudden, horrifying knowledge of how easily he could change those things is what makes him stay away. It makes him stay away for three miserable months in which he keeps it together and he goes to work and he goes to the gym and he aches for every single second of it.

And he really is his father's son - dad's a dog demon and there's more than a little of the canine in the way Tommy pines. Like a faithful mutt he'll curl up every night on the grave of his relationship, except the metaphor gets a little muddled because he's the one that killed the relationship. And just like dear old dad, he killed with fear, only it's his own, not something he's inspired in someone else with his bark and the threat of his bite.

But maybe he'd done it, even just a little, and if he hadn't maybe he would, some day. Both feel equally unforgivable.

Later, when they've fought their way back to each other, Tommy will find the words to tell Evan exactly what had made him so afraid, and Evan will look at him like he's an idiot.

"Seriously?" he'll demand and roll his eyes. "Tommy, I'm such a little shit with you. I'm so much. I think if you were gonna mind whammy me into anything it'd be to take it down a notch or five, not...whatever the hell you think you did."

Made you like me, Tommy will think.

Tommy will catch Evan's arm and pull the words out one by one because they communicate now, they are open now, they tell each other exactly how they feel now, and it's healing and important and a pain in the ass a lot of the time but this one will come easy as he tells Evan, "Hey. I love exactly how much you are."

Evan's eyes will go soft in that way Tommy has been half in love with since the first time he saw it, and he will say, "I'm so happy with you," and the precision of the wording will make Tommy's heart turn over in his chest, will be the latest in a long line of things that pulls honestly out of him hand over fist.

"I thought I made you like me," he'll say.

"You didn't make me do shit," Evan will say, and he'll kiss a smile onto Tommy's face. "I just like you, dumbass."

[spidybaby]

One where you're Gavi's older sister and you have a bad relationship. You and Pedri have a secret relationship and at a party Gavi find out about the relationship and is mad at you not at pedri because he doesn't wants to loose him as a friend

Golden Child | part 1

Summary: You're Pablo's older sister, even tho you don't have a good relationship you help him during his injury and find yourself getting involved with Pedri.

Warnings: cursing.

A/N: So I write Gavi as a toxic brother, but I don't think he's like that at all. Also, Aurora is going to be older. Please keep in mind that this is fictional, not based on reality. Love you 💛

Part two | Part Three

Growing up with a brother like Pablo was not easy. He used to be everybody's favorite. He was the star of the family. He was he.

Something that he couldn't be was his parents number one child. Something he hated. Specifically, he couldn't beat the way his parents loved his older sister.

He grew up with two sisters. Aurora, who's twenty-four, and Y/n, who's twenty one.

Aurora and him were very close. They enjoyed doing things together. They were like a team.

On the other hand him and Y/n never had a good relationship. Not because she didn't want to, but because Pablo heavily dislike her.

She was the picture-perfect child. Perfect grades, perfect attitude, always doing what she's told to do. Pablo was not a bad kid, but he wasn't her.

Growing up, they used to be civil with each other. Respecting their personal space, not fighting.

Everything changed when Arturo, who used to be Pablo's best friend, fell in love with his sister. She was fourteen, and they were twelve. She, of course, never had any interest in Arturo.

But one night, when Arturo told her that he was in love with her, she was fifteen. She laughed, finding the whole situation funny. Rejected the thirteen year old boy and walked away from the scene.

Arturo didn't take that well. He felt humiliated. He fought with Pablo, telling him that he never wanted to be close to him or his sister.

Pablo never understood what happened, so he blamed his sister for it. That's where the fights began there. Pablo used every chance he had to bother his sister.

He used to leave her out of things, pull her hair, hide her things, and delete her important things from her computer.

His parents scold him and ground him without playing football. But that didn't work. After a while, she got used to it and didn't even told her parents about it anymore.

When Pablo became more serious with football, he focused his whole energy on the field. But he never agreed on fixing things.

Every time Aurora tried to be the mediator, she ended scolding Pablo about the hurtful things he said to her, making her cry. Pablo ended up laughing and leaving the room. Luckily for him, she moved to Barcelona to study.

For Pablo, the best moment in his career was when he became part of Barça first team. He was all smiles, and no doubt you were proud of your baby brother.

When your parents called you and told you that he got limited people to be there and had to choose for you to not join them when the announcement was made, it broke your heart.

Aurora found out that was a lie when she was helping him with some things for that day, she immediately told you.

She wanted you to go with the whole family and even told you she was telling your parents about what Pablo did. But you begged her not to, you didn't want to be the reason his day was ruined.

"Rora, por favor." You begged. "Don't tell mom."

"I'm just so mad at him. How dare he lied to us that way?"

"I don't know, but it's okay. He can choose who to have there."

"You're his sister."

"It's okay. I promise I'm okay."

You were not okay with the news, but you fake a smile and told Aurora how relieved you were because you had nothing to wear. Lies, you spend your savings on buying a nice outfit for the occasion. That night, you cried yourself to sleep.

Having him close but so far at the same time was horrible. You tried everything in you to get to see him but after all the read text, after he didn't return any of your calls or even try to make a space for you in his life, you were done hurting yourself. So you decided to have zero contact with Pablo.

He saw the glory, acting like Aurora was his only sister. He even started to tell new people in his life that, yes, Aurora was his only sister. Thing that neither Aurora nor you knew about, thinking it was because people didn't know about you for not being as public as Aurora.

It wasn't easy, seeing him everywhere in posters at every place in Barcelona, or the games, or when you see people wearing his number on their jerseys. But you had to remember that he was the one that didn't want you there, and as much as it hurts, you respect his decision.

"But mami, why am I supposed to do?" You ask uninterested. "I get he's hurt but, he's not dying."

"Y/n, please. I know you have your own things going on, but neither Daddy nor I can go to check him. And Aurora is on finals. Please baby."

Pablo got injured during a game. His muscles were not very good, and he needed to rest. Your parents were in Sevilla. They couldn't just leave work and go to check on him.

So they ask you to take care of him. You nicely said no because you didn't want to put yourself in a position where Pablo could easily attack you.

But when they find out he needed help to do things like getting upstairs, get dressed carefully, and take his medication. Your parents start begging you to help them.

"Okay, I'll do it." You say frustrated. "But what am I supposed to do? Move myself from here to there and back again? You have no idea how expensive that is going to be."

"Mi amor, daddy and I are taking care of that. Don't worry."

"But are you sure Pablo is okay with this?"

"Si, hija. Ya te lo repetí cinco veces." (Yes, I already repeat it five times)

"Got it, I'll go to his house before he gets back from training."

"Gracias, do you know the door code? Because I have it somewhere"

"Yes, I know it." You interrupted. "Listen, I have to go get ready if I want to be on time. I'll tell him to call you."

You say your goodbyes, promising her that everything was going to be fine.

The Uber from your house to Pablo's was kind of expensive. Due to being in a zone meant for students and his being on a gated community, it was basically going to the other side of Barcelona.

"Gracias." You say getting out of the car and entering the house. Once you're inside, you find yourself amazed. It was a beautiful and very minimalistic place.

You looked around, there's pictures of him with the rest of your family, some pictures with Aurora, with his friends.

You were earlier than you expected to be. You thankfully packed your computer and books. Not wanting to just be around doing nothing.

About twenty minutes later, you heard the front door opening. You sense other voices.

"Cuidado, que no queremos que te lastimes más de lo que ya estas " (careful, we don't want you to hurt yourself more than you already are)

You stayed quiet, looking at the two boys helping Pablo.

"There you go. Let me bring you your crutches. Pedri help me with his backpack "

He stayed still, grabbing the door.

"Pablo," you say low.

He turned his head to you. He knew you would be there because your mother told him.

"Dejame ayudarte," you ask, seeing him struggling to stand on his own. (Let me help you)

"No." He harshly moved his arm from you. "My friends are doing that already."

"I know but-"

"Help me with bringing me water, I need to take a pill."

The way he turns his back to you is making you mad. You were there to help him, no need to act like a little boy.

"Is cold water okay?" You ask, he ignored you. So you take that as a yes. You walk into the kitchen, searching for the cups.

"Y/n" Pablo call you.

"Yes?"

"Can you bring another cup of water?"

"Okay." You say grabbing another cup. "A please would be nice, tho." You whisper to yourself.

You walk back, finding two other boys. One blonde and tall and other a little taller than Pablo, black hair and very full eyebrows.

"Here," you hand him the water. "This is for?" You ask.

"For me." The black hair guy says. "Thank you."

You smile at him, a little shy about starting a conversation. "Where's your medicine? You need to take not one but two pills." You say, remembering the doctors note your mother sent you.

"Only one, today they told me that I can drop the other one."

"Where is it?" You ask. He ignored you because he was on his phone

"Is in his room, I think." The blonde one says. You wanted to throw a pillow at your brother. Not even caring to answer a simple question.

You smiled and nodded, making your way upstairs and entering room for room until you found your brother's one. The pills were easy to find. They were on his nightstand, It was the only thing there.

You look at the disorder of his room, you'll help him cleaning a bit because it was hard for you to believe he can sleep with all of this.

"Found it," you say, getting back. "Do you need more water?"

"Mhm"

"I'll be back."

"But not cold water." He hands you the cup back. You nod, kind of uncomfortable with the whole interaction. After all, it was the first one in a year.

You go back in the kitchen, filling the cup with water and making another trip back to the living room.

"Hey, since Pablo is not introducing us. I'm Frenkie." The blonde one says, smiling at you.

"And I'm Pedri." The black hair one says, imitating the actions of Frenkie.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Y/n." You only smile at them, not being the best at meeting new people.

After the boys introduce themselves, they chat a little. You notice that Pablo was on his phone the whole time. Giving half answers.

"Okay, we're leaving, Pablito. Please take care." Frenkie pats him on the back. "And y/n, nice to meet you."

"Bye," Pedri says, waving. You wave them goodbye.

After they left, the silence in the room was a not so nice one for you. Pablo was in his own world, focused on his phone.

"Pablo, are you hungry?" You ask picking up the empty cups. He ignored you.

You roll your eyes, trying to control the urge to throw him a cup. "Pablo, please answer." The way he keeps ignoring you is annoying. "Okay." You walk to the kitchen, droping the cups at the sink. Go back to where he is, pick up your backpack, and walk to the front door. "Have fun."

"Wait, where are you going? Mom said You'll help me." He finally acknowledged you.

"Mira, te voy a decir algo." (Look, I'm going to tell you something) you close the door. "Yo tengo mejores cosas que hacer que cuidarte, así que si no quieres mi ayuda me voy, no voy a aguantar tus cosas." (I have better things to do rather than take care of you. So if you don't want my help, I'm leaving, I'm not dealing with this attitude)

He has this surprise but angry face. When you were a kid, you loved the way his angry face looked, but now that you're mad at him, you heavily dislike it.

"So, I'm going to ask you one more time, only one, because if you pull this silence treatment one more time, I'm out the door." You put your backpack back on the couch. "Are you hungry? Yes or no?"

"Yes, very hungry," he says, looking at his phone.

"Now," you grab his wrist and separate his phone from his face. "Would you like me to cook something for you, or do you want takeout?"

"You cook?" He scuffs

"Pablo." You warn him.

"Vale, vale, no te enojes." He lift his hands "puedes hacerme un sandwich o cualquier cosa, no sé." (Okay, okay, don't get angry. You can make me a sandwich or something, i don't know.)

You sigh. It was going to be some hard weeks.

"Pablo, c'mon man, you have to do this, or you'll never progress." You say trying to get him to apply a gel the physiotherapist sent him.

"But it stinks." He says, slapping your hand away.

"Pablo, te quedas quieto y me dejas aplicarte esto o te lo voy a pasar por la cara." (Stay still and let me apply this to you, or I'll smush it all over your face) You dig your nails to his calves, thing you used to do back when you were kids and you had a fight.

"Stop that." He says, grabbing you by the wrists. "Don't do that." His tone is strong yet he's not yelling.

"It's everything alright?" You both turn your face to Pedri, who was carrying a fast food bag and some drinks.

"No." You both say.

"Okay, I'm leaving this on the counter and I'll help you deal with this dickhead."

"Eres un imbecil, Pedro." Pablo says, angry.

"Pablito, mi vida, escuchame." You whisper sweetly. "Let me apply this. The quicker you say yes, the quicker I'll do it. Por favor."

His eyes are back on you, mad expression on his face. He puff angrily, letting your hands go. You quickly open the gel and apply it the way it's supposed to.

"Ya, calmado?" Pedri asks, laughing. "I know that gel is the worst, but it's really refreshing." Pablo puffs again. "Venga macho, vamos a comer que te traje tu comida favorita." (C'mon man, let's eat, I bring you your favorite food.)

Pedri helps Pablo walk to the table. Since his crutches were somewhere else. You go into the kitchen and wash your hands really well. He was right that gel stinks.

"I bring you something to eat, I'm not sure what you like, so sorry if it's not what you expected." Pedri says, walking into the kitchen.

"You did?" In the last few days, he was a big help with your brother, always picking him to go to his therapy and back home. He nods, smiling. "Thank you, Pedri."

"Can one of you bring more napkins?" Pablo yelled. You turn to take the napkins, giving them to Pedri.

"You're not eating with us?" He asked, confused about you opening your laptop instead of going to the table with them.

"No, I have some homework, plus, this kid for the love of God can't keep his room organized, so I'll go help him with that." You say exasperated, opening your a word document.

"You're such a good cousin."

You stop on your tracks, trying not to show your expression. "A good what?" You ask without moving your eyes from your screen.

"A good cousin, I mean you took time out of your life to take care of Pablo." The way he's saying this in such a positive way. Not even knowing how the words he just said affect you.

"How do you know we are cousins?" You ask, smiling a little, pretending to continue the conversation.

"Pablo told us, he said the first time we met you that you were his cousin that was helping him with his injury."

You only nod. Feeling how your stomach is turning.

"Go back with him. You're probably hungry. " You want him out of the kitchen, not wanting your facial expressions to betray you. "Thanks for the food."

Once his out of the kitchen, you can feel some tears pooling in your eyes. Not sure if it's anger or betrayal.

"No pensé que fueras cule." Pedri says, entering the house and leaving the bag that belongs to Pablo on the table. (Didn't think you were a cule.)

"Well, Pablo plays for the team, so I kind of am." You joke, smiling at him. "But to be honest, Alexia is the only reason I'm watching the game."

"Alexia? God, she's the best." He takes a seat next to you. "She's like a firework."

"Also, Aitana, they're my favorites."

"You should ask Pablo to introduce you to them." He laughs, "We have full access to games for the feminine team. He can take you to a game." You only nod.

Since he told you how Pablo introduce you to them as a cousin, you barely even look at him. Helping him like you promised your parents and then leaving, no words exchanged.

"I don't want to be a bother." You say, honestly.

"You won't, look, my cousin Adrian, he was the first one to ask me to introduce him to Messi." He laughs remembering. "Not even my brother."

You look down at your hands. For him, it was easy. His family and him were so close, for you, it was hard, Pablo never liked you.

"I'll think about it." You say, "Pablo is upstairs by the way."

"Joder, si no me quieres cerca dímelo." He jokes, laughing at your words. "But thank you. I'll go see him." (Fuck, if you don't want me close you can say that)

"That's not what I meant." You laugh. "But I know you're here for him."

"And what if I'm not here only for him?" He asks looking at you, smiling sweetly.

The heat creeps to your cheeks, you turn your face back to the game, not wanting him to see your red face.

He laughs at your actions, standing up from the couch. "I'll go upstairs. Hope Alexia scores." He says before walking upstairs.

"Let me get you another drink." Your friend says, taking your cup, you're at a party that she got you in, you don't even know who's hosting or anything, but you were enjoying and drinking.

"Okay, I'm going to the bathroom." You shout, walking inside, you ask a few people for the bathroom. All of them point at a door at the end of the corridor.

After using the bathroom and washing your hands, you exit ready for more drinks. Your body hit someone on the way out of the house, and the drink of this person has spilled all over you.

"Joder, lo siento mucho." The voice says, worried. "Y/n?" Pedro asks, eyes focusing on your face.

Your eyes found his. "Pedri." You smile.

"Sorry, nena. I spill this shit all over you. Come here." He grabs your hand and walks with you back into the bathroom. "Let me help you." He grabs the towel that's there. "Can I?"

You can't even control your actions. Your arms are now behind your back, giving him access to your chest area, where most of the drink spilled.

He carefully patted the towel to dry you. "Te puedo reponer el vestido, lo siento tanto" (I can pay for your dress, I'm really sorry).

"Don't worry, it was an accident."

"No, seriously. I can take you to get a new dress."

You nod smiling. Eyes fixed on his. On the way his focus expression makes him look so handsome, the way the yellow light in the bathroom hit his skin and made it shine almost perfectly.

"Wanna dance?" You ask out of nowhere, grabbing his wrist, making him stop. Fingers tapping on his skin.

"You want to dance?" He's focused on the way you look, how good you look on that dress. "With me?" He asks, scuffing.

"Is that a yes or a no?" You laugh. Your fingers grab the towel, throwing it somewhere on the floor.

He nodded quickly. You take his hand, intertwine it with yours, and walk outside to the dance floor, there's a lot of people, but you're only focusing on the guy in front of you.

Pedro is doing the same, the way you're dancing, the way you're smiling and making him dance when he doesn't know what to do.

"Pedri." You grab his arms and pull him closer to you. "You look so good tonight." Your hands caress his arms up and down, making him shiver.

"I think you're kind of drunk, bonita." He's trying to stop the thought of kissing you.

"Yet you're the one that spilled your drink on me." You laugh. He swears your laugh is adorable.

"And I'm sorry about it." He honestly says, "I'll make it up for you."

"And how are you going to do it?" You got closer to him. "Tell me." Maybe it is the alcohol in your system. Maybe it's just him.

"I have an idea." His hands are on each side of your face, fingers caressing your cheeks. "But I'm not sure if doing this while you're drunk is the right thing to do."

"Well I do think it is." You close the distance between you two, enjoying the feeling of his lips on yours.

One hand on the back of his neck pulling him closer, if that's possible, and the other playing with his hair.

His hands go down from your face to your waist, his fingers digging lightly onto your flesh. Making you moan a little at the feeling of his fingers.

Once the air run down you both separate, lips swollen from the kiss. "Any thoughts on the idea?" You joke. Pecking his lips. Action he repeats.

"I think I can help you out of the wet dress." He grabs your chin, giving you another peck. "Only if you let me." He says kissing your cheek, making you laugh.

"Aurora!" you run to her. Jumping on her arms. "I missed you so much, hermanita." You grab her face, kissing her cheek repeatedly.

"Okay, I think that's enough." She laughed putting you down. "I missed you so much, life without is so boring." She hugs you tight.

"Let's go, I got Pablo's car so we can go anywhere we want." You show her the keys, making them jiggle in your hand.

"Got it like stealing it?" She asks, raising her eyebrows.

"He was sleeping, plus he's not using it."

She laughed, giving you another hug, you walk with her to where you parked.

"So, have you guys worked on your relationship?" She asks curious. You know her question is genuine curiosity, not anything bad intended.

You're not sure if you should tell her about the whole ~she's my cousin~ situation. "I mean we haven't kill each other." You half smile.

"Okay." She narrow her eyes. "Let's try again. But this time be honest."

"It's been weird, Pablo and I barely even talk, and when we do is more a single answers" you honestly answer, "I just wish we could be like the two of you."

"Don't worry, he's just weird in general, he'll open to you." She pat your shoulder.

"When? Rora, I don't know if you notice but he's about to turn nineteen and he can't even remember when my birthday is." You say exasperated. "Pablo doesn't like me, not matter if I'm his sister, he just doesn't."

Aurora doesn't answer, mostly because she doesn't know what to say to you. She's been the one who had to witness all the dumb fights, all the times he hurted you just because.

"I know he loves you." She says, body turning to yours. "Pablo might act weird but he loves you, he told me that."

"He did?"

"Yes, he's just a stupid teenager, so don't worry about him and his weird actions. You're his sister and he loves you." She hugs your arm. "Now let's go, he might wake up soon." She laughed.

Aurora notice the change in your face. She knows that she shouldn't lie to you. But she can't stand your sad eyes when you talk about Pablo.

And even when she tried to help the situation, she haven't archived nothing more than fighting between you two.

"I made you your favorite cake." You say as you enter the house. "And I'll prepare your favorite food for dinner."

"Oh I've missed you." She kiss your cheek. "Pablo!" She yells.

"I'll get your bags." You say going back to the garage.

Grabbing the bag and going back in, when you walk into the living room you saw Pablo hugging Aurora and kissing her cheek. Telling her how much he missed her.

"Y/n will make us some yummy food." She says, hugging him by the waist. "While we wait, let's have some cake."

"I thought the smell was coming from the neighbor house." He jokes, making you two laugh. "Let me help you unpack." He takes the bag from your hands, taking Aurora upstairs.

You turn to the kitchen, getting all the ingredients put to start with the food. Interrupted by the doorbell, you yell that you'll get it.

"Hola guapa." Pedri says as you open the door. "It's Pablo here? He left this at my house and asked me to drop it."

"Hola." You sat the greeting back. "He is, get in."

After the party Pedri and you have been seeing each other here and there. Both agreeing on not telling anyone, specially not Pablo.

"They're upstairs." You walk back inside and into the kitchen.

After a few minutes, Aurora walked singing something, "Need some help?" She asks, washing her hands.

"Can you peel the potatoes? Please."

You both chat a little, catching up on some things that you have pending. She told you about her and Javi.

"So, any boys in sight?" She asks, pinching your arm. "I need to know everything."

"What everything? I'm not seeing anyone." You laugh "The only man I'm seeing is my professor. And he's very annoying."

"Oh don't tell me that, you must be seeing someone. Tell me." She pout.

"I might be seeing someone, but it's something casual." You confess.

"Are you sleeping with him?" She whispers, leaving what she's doing, interested in the conversation.

"Aurora, you don't ask people that." You joke, turning to the sink, washing your hands. "But yes, I am."

"You whore." She laugh. "I can't believe it, you and I were playing with dolls only a few years ago."

"Ay por favor." You splash her with the remaining water in your hands. "As if you don't sleep with your boyfriend."

"I am but you're my baby. I can feel this way." She fake dry a tear. "So, is he your classmate?"

"I told you it was something casual, I'm not giving you more details." You hurry with serving the plates.

While she helps with the table you finish washing some things. Focused on the job you're doing, when two cold hands grab you by the waist you jump a little at the sensation.

"Qué haces?" (What are you doing?) You ask, taking his hands away from you.

"Don't worry, they're upstairs. Aurora is getting Pablo." He says, getting closer so he can kiss you.

"Pedro, not here." You say, getting away from him.

"Let me take you home, I need you so bad." He says, trying to get closer again. "Por favor."

You hear the voices coming downstairs, "fine, but keep your hands to yourself " you quickly kiss him, pushing him outside.

"Let's eat." Aurora says, happily.

The dinner was fun, Pablo and Pedro talked about the next game. "You should come to the game. I heard that Alexia and Jana are coming." Pedro says, looking at you with picardy.

"Uhhh she loves Alexia." Aurora says. "Pablo, can you get us to take a picture with Alexia?"

"Since when do you like Alexia?" Pablo ask you, confused look on his face.

"I've always liked her. Rora and I used to watch the games all the time." You laugh, "remember when we broke that flowerpot? Celebrating when she scored."

"That poor flower." She laughs, "God, grandma hated us."

Pablo raise a brow, never paid attention to your liking for the football player, better say not knowing anything about you.

"I can get you to know her. I'll talk to Xavi tomorrow."

"Thank you." You smile at him. Eyes connecting with Pedro right after, sending him a wink.

After that moment you keep talking about random things. Pedro offers to help you with the dishes.

"Nos vamos?" (Ready to go?) He whispers, kissing your shoulder.

"Let me say goodbye to Aurora and I'll be back." You pinch his cheeks. "Say your goodbyes to Pablo."

You hurry upstairs, reaching to her room. "Hey rorita, Pedri offered me a ride home, so I'm leaving. I promise I'll be here early so I can spoil you with some breakfast."

"Don't go, we can ask Pablito to take us to your place so you get some clothes so you stay here." She pout, hugging your arm. "Stay."

"I promise I'll be here early, plus you have to rest Rorita." You kiss the top of her head. "We can get ready together."

You hug her, helping her with turning the lights off. When you were about to go downstairs you hear Pablo calling you name. "Si?"

"I texted Xavi, he told me that he can arrange a little meeting with Alexia backstage."

"Really?" You smile, exited about the news.

"Yes, I'll give Aurora the details." After saying that, he close his door.

You hurried downstairs. Opening the door, finding the canarian boy waiting for you leaning on his car.

"To your place or mine?" He asks, opening the door for you.

"Mine," you kiss him, hand on his neck. "So sad you can't stay, but you can make it up later." You joke with him. Making him laugh.

"Okay, smile." The photographer says, taking several pictures of the three of you. "Thank you. I'll send them to Gavi after the game."

"Thank you." You say. "Can we take a selfie? Please!" You take your phone out.

"All that you want" Alexia laughs, "well, not everything, I'm not up for a tik tok." She jokes.

"Oh God no, we won't ask you to do tik toks with us."

She place her hand to her heart, acting dramatic as a joke. "Thank you."

After the pictures and a little chat you both thank Alexia for her time. She says her goodbyes and left with the barca manager.

"I can't believe it." You say, jumping exited. Making Aurora jump with you too. "Omg I'm posting this on my story."

Pedro and Pablo were observing you from afar, "I think you just won the ~best cousin~ award." Pedro laughs, shaking his arm.

Pablo only nods, forgetting about him telling his friend about you being his cousin. Not wanting him to mention that in front of you or Aurora. Thinking you didn't know about it.

"Let's go back, Xavi's already mad."

"Go, I'll go to the bathroom real quick." Pedro says, turning to the other direction.

He takes his phone out. Texting you to meet him at the bathroom that's beside the changing room.

When you see it, you were about to leave to go back to your seats. "Hey, I'll go to the bathroom. I meet you on our seats." You say, walking back to the bathroom.

Not waiting for her answer you walk quickly to the end of the hall, entering the bathroom. "I think this is a women's bathroom, sir." You joke.

He won't miss time, pulling you from the waist. When his lips conect with yours, you place your arms on the back of his neck.

"So eager, was last night not enough?" You push him away to breathe. "So needy, González."

"For you?" He pecks you. "Always."

The makeout session begins again, his hands on your ass and yours on his hair.

You hear the bathroom door opening, pushing Pedro away was too late, Aurora alread saw you two. "Ay por Dios." (Oh my God) she gasp, leaving after that.

You don't even look at Pedro, quickly leaving him alone to go look for your sister. "Aurora." You yell, "please stop. I can explain." You run to her.

"Don't." She says when you grab her arm. "Let's go back to our seats."

She goes out back to the stadium seats. Leaving you there, you turn back and see Pedro getting out of the bathroom, eyes finding yours.

♡♡♡

🏷: @gaviandgrizisgirl 💛

[baby-tini]

TW- Yandere Manila!Mikey, Implied murder, Threats of murder, Implied kidnapping, hints of noncon, forced affection, Abuse, Implied stalking in Y, Manipulation, Victim blaming. Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get? Manila Mikey, in this timeline, is pretty standoffish. He's not super affectionate besides the occasional kiss or round of sex, he just.. watches you. He'll sit and stare until you start to get chills, he's not the most friendliest or passionate at this point.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling? Well, in this timeline, he's already killed his friends, so obviously, he's not against killing for you. I do see the relationship more of a convenience for him, as in, he was probably lonely or you caught his interest. So he's willing to do whatever it takes to keep you safe until he's done with you.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them? He'd be very upfront with you, he may not tell you his intentions at first, but he'd make it known from the get-go that you are too behave and follow his rules. He won't be cruel or mock you and he can be pretty nice- sweet even, when you behave. He mostly leaves you be, sometimes when your asleep, he'll run his fingers through your hair.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will? Yes, he would. He truly doesn't care what you want, if he wants sex, you're having sex. If he wants a kiss and you try to move away, he'll grab you by the throat and kiss you, shoving his tongue down your throat. If he wants to hug you and you push at his chest, he's pinning you to him and holding you there until he lets you go.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? Not any really, you have caught him in moments of vulnerability, where he's thinking about his past and the friends he killed, reminiscing about Toman and the fun he had as a child but that was all accidental, he'd never purposely be vulnerable.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back? Don't. Fucking. Try. Mikey, himself, has said he doesn't hit women. I do believe he wouldn't put his hands on you unless he was deep in his dark impulses, but he is much stronger then you, more experienced in fighting, his reaction time is faster, I mean, this man got hit with a steel fucking pipe and took it, like it was nothing. There's no point in fighting or trying too fight, cause you'll lose. 100%.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape? It's not a game, don't treat it like one, cause it will end bad for you. Don't try too escape either, he will catch you and he'll either bring you back and tie you down or he'll kill you, simple as that.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them? The first time you, in his words, threw a tantrum. Right off the bat, he makes it known that he won't take any bullshit, no bad behaviour, no back talk, no escape attempts. Nothing. So, when you throw a "tantrum" he wraps his hand around your throat as he holds his gun to your head and stares you down, eyes empty as he flicks off the safety.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling? He doesn't have one, he wants his life to come to an end. With you though, if he's done with you, he'll kill you. But, until then, he'll just go with it and whatever happens, happens.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope? So, you're locked away, in his apartment. You're not going anywhere, you won't see anyone, won't talk to anyone but him. There's no one too get jealous of because there's no one but him around you. You're family and friends are gone, you'll never see them again. It's just him.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling? As I said, he's pretty standoffish but he can be sweet, rarely. If you've been relatively good for him, he'll let you sit on his lap and lay on his chest as he plays with your hair and nuzzles into your neck leaving the occasional kiss.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling? He doesn't court or approach you, he takes you.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else? No, Mikey doesn't beat around the bush, he's very upfront with you and what he expects from you and how you should behave. He sees no point in playing pretend when he has you too himself.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling? Well, depends on what you did. He has different punishments for certain behaviours. If you try too or succeed in escaping, he might break a bone or tie you down. If you refuse too eat, you don't get food for a while. If you act like a brat and give him mouth, he'll bend you over his knee, and this man? He hits hard.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling? He gives and takes privileges, depending on your behaviour and his mood. Like I said , if you refuse too eat what he gives you, you'll go hungry for a bit. If you try and lock yourself in a room, you're not allowed any privacy. You're taking a piss? Don't care, keep the door open. But if you're good, he'll give you high quality food, buy you the best smelling body washes, give you the prettiest clothes and treat you nice.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling? He can be pretty patient, but again, he doesn't take disrespect from anyone. It doesn't matter that you're starving and you're irritable, you'll need to ask him nicely and behave. He has the mindset that if he lets you get away with one thing, you'll try and get away with multiple things. So, it's best he shuts that shit down immediately.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on? He would do everything in his power too get you back, no money, resources or manpower is enough. But, if you do successfully get away, however that may be. He wouldn't care at first but then he'd start too miss having someone around and if he really did like you- love even. He'd be very upset.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go? No and no. He doesn't feel guilty because it's not about you, if he wants you to stay with him, you will stay with him. No amount of pleading and crying will change that.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)? I'd say, boredom and loneliness. His friends are dead, his family's gone, he has no one. So when he sees you, looking so pretty and sweet, he wants you, and he takes you.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves? You can't isolate yourself, there's no door he can't kick down, quite literally. There's no space he can't get you out of and there's absolutely no place you can hide. Screaming and crying though? Depends on how he feels, he might just sit there and watch you and wait it out, or he'll become very hand's on and make you stop crying and screaming because sometimes, it does piss him off.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere? He's not super obsessive or clingy, he's sometimes not even around because of his... job. Also, like I said, he will kill you when he's done with you.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape? Not many if any, you obviously can't fight him, can't really run from him or hide. So, it'll mostly have to be mental. You could try and play on the little empathy he has left, if you did know his family, you could play on that. Ask him what Draken and Shinichiro would think if they knew what he's done or how his friends would think of him now... but be careful because that could get him too back off or piss him off even more.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling? Yes. Yes he would. Especially if you try and challenge his authority, he's very used too people bowing to him, following his every order and looking up to him like a God essentially, so, when you challenge him and test him, he'll lose it.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over? There's no winning you over, you're his whether you like it or not. Worship though? No. You, are supposed to worship him, not the other way around.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap? There's no pining, he does it more on impulse, he would only wait if there's people around and he can't take you away. He doesn't have a problem fighting or killing people but it's so much easier for the both of you if you just come quietly and behave.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling? If it was necessary? Absolutely, yes he would.

[sweetnnaivete]

the black brothers.

sirius:

walburga’s favorite, until he was sorted into gryffindor. he encapsulated the traits of a true gryffindor: fiercely loyal, incredibly brave, prideful to a fault, and prone to changes in temper, much like walburga herself (who was almost a gryffindor, but she fought against it and ended up the perfect slytherin pupil). above all else, the trait that made sirius stand out was his deeply caring nature. while all his friends were more preoccupied with themselves than with others (self-obsessed james, selfish peter, and self-conscious remus), sirius truly believed in helping others, as he did with regulus, with harry, and so on.

he always had a deep connection and understanding for his little brother, having practically raised the boy, and he saw regulus in everyone younger than him. when he left home, he thought about bringing regulus, but he knew that was selfish. it was regulus’s turn to grow up. and perhaps that was cruel, but he was raised by walburga. tough love was his upbringing, and he knew of nothing else until he found his friends, a different kind of love – warm, unrelenting, gentle. the type of love he’d always given but never received. regulus had to find it for himself, and he wouldn’t find it in his creepy little friends.

sirius was no casanova, but he was cool, mixing bourgeois wizard style with working class muggle style and growing his hair out like a rockstar. it was as effortless as it looked, and authentic to his personality as well. all the girls loved him, but often only platonically. it was clear he was in love with james, and remus was in love with him. truth be told, sirius dismissed remus at first, for being too quiet and boring. but he realized his mistake soon. he became fascinated with the mysterious boy, and he was the one who discovered that he was a werewolf. it was only later in life that they truly fell in love, and the road to come to that realization was treacherous and full of regret. the three great loves of his life were james, remus, and, surprisingly, lily. lily and sirius were like siblings, and although they only really got along in their twenties, they became each others’ support systems.

sirius got many tattoos, but his favorites were a stag’s antlers, a lily flower, the phases of the moon, and the crown of a prince.

regulus:

cold, harsh, sinister – orion’s copy. maybe that’s why walburga was always scared of the little boy that hung around dark corners with the house elf, because in all other aspects he was the perfect son. he pursued his studies religiously, going above and beyond the level expected for his age, always feeling an attraction to powerful dark magic. unlike his predecessors, he wasn’t talented socially, and couldn’t make friends for the life of him – a thing the rest of his family relied on to uphold their status in society. it was a wonder barty crouch’s boy took a liking to the child, otherwise he would’ve gone to hogwarts without a single ally, and that could’ve been even more detrimental to the black family legacy than a gryffindor son. barty crouch jr brought a bit of humanity into the cold husk of a boy, and there would always be a part of regulus that loved barty.

but the only one he had always loved was sirius. his older brother was the only person who had ever tried to understand him, instead of dismissing him as an enigma. sirius saw the softness, the awkwardness, not just his morbid nature. when he left, regulus waited like a princess in a tower for him to return and rescue him, but he never did. it got into his head: what had regulus done that was so terrible that his own brother hated him? he stopped talking, stopped eating, stopped caring about his academics, and walburga’s wrath toward him worsened. when he got the dark mark, something he’d always wanted, it felt wrong to him. he was no longer interested in the dark arts, and he had never been very interested in the cause. he missed being loved.

he found himself becoming friends with kreacher again, as he was in childhood, before walburga forbid him. she couldn’t control him anymore; he was her only heir, and he was working alongside the most dangerous wizard alive. he knew he was a threat. kreacher and him understood each other, and regulus vowed to protect the elf from harm. so, naturally, when he discovered what voldemort had done to kreacher, he knew it had to be amended.

his last acts of life were those of devotion and love, and his last thought was of sirius.