#he wrote this in a hurry....but then again he also expected her to come by and he trusts her to water his plants

[ofgentleresolve]

POST - IT NOTE from lam pls !!!

post it notes are valid and perfect ( post-it notes prompt w/ @pararennial )

send “ POST - IT NOTE ” for what my muse would leave yours in a post - it note message !

“Can you water the ones in the corner? The forecast says it’s not going to rain anymore :/ you can have some of my tomatoes too- they’re still in season.

-L”

( Stuck to door of Lam's bedroom. )

[softspiderling]

happy birthday! I'm here for 🏖️ ... can i request cregan x reader, and the word/trope is 'sister'? thanks!

ha ha. HAHAHA you’re so funny 😐 jokes on you because i’m writing it @eldrith

the secret of us | c.s

word count: 1k

author's note: this is my first time writing cregan so pls be gentle 🙂‍↕️also unbeta’d bc i wrote this for my beta bestie sister wife <3 (cringe)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“You wanted to speak, so speak.”

Stilling, you held your breath, hearing the voices next door. You were in the library - not the large one, accessible to everyone - no, you were in Cregan’s personal library. Calling it a library was generous, it was merely a small room right next to his study.

The same study, in which Cregan was holding council apparently, with what seemed to be Lord Karstark. The sound of the door shutting made you nervous; it must be an important meeting. You pressed yourself against the wall; you wouldn’t face any dire consequences if you were discovered, but it would be uncomfortable either way.

The chairs scraped against the stone floor as both men took their seats, Lord Karstark let out a small sigh.

“Your twenty fourth name day was a moon ago.”

Silence followed and you couldn’t see Cregan, but you just knew he was staring at Lord Karstark, waiting for him to continue. Lord Karstark took a breath, like he knew Cregan wouldn’t like the words that would follow.

"It is time for you to find a wife."

Your eye twitched at the prospect of Cregan taking a wife, despite knowing it was to be expected of him. His line of succession was at risk, with no direct heir. You had wondered when the time would come. Cregan let out a scoff, but there was no argument.

“I will consult the maester and we will have a list of suitable ladies ready for you on the morrow,” Lord Karstark said, his tone pleasant, like he hadn’t expected for Cregan to give in so easily. He guffawed however, when Cregan suddenly mentioned your name. You were in a similar state. Cregan couldn’t possibly be suggesting what you thought he was…

“What about her?” Lord Karstark asked carefully.

“What if I were to marry her?”

Your breath stocked in your throat and the book you were holding nearly slipped out of your grasp.

“She grew up in Winterfell, was raised on our customs. She would make a fine Lady Stark.”

“She’s your Ward.”

“She was my father’s Ward.”

Cregan’s voice was heated, and Lord Karstark stayed quiet and Cregan let out a displeased grunt.

"She's not my blood."

“She is your sister in everything but that,” Lord Karstark said. “It is not proper.”

“Leave.”

“My Lord,” Lord Karstark stammered. “I did not mean to insult you-”

“You said your piece,” Cregan stated, his tone even. “Leave. I have other business to attend to.”

The feet of the chair scraped against the stone floor again.

“My Lord.”

The door opened, before it shut again; but you still held your breath, hearing Cregan standing, moving around in his study. His heavy steps came towards the library and you quickly hurried to the furthest corner of the room, acting nonchalant when Cregan entered. If he was surprised to see you in the study, he did not let it show. He rarely did.

“Good day,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. Cregan tilted his head, a silent greeting, as he watched you flit around the library.

Of course you had noticed his looks. His gaze lingering on you, the heated look on his face, the way his eyes followed along the line of your body. It wasn't how a man would look at his sister.

But you weren’t foolish enough to let yourself hope. He was the head of his house, the warden of the North, and you were merely a girl his father had taken in when you were a babe. You had nothing to offer were you to be Lady Stark.

The shelf next to the window caught your attention, and you slid the book you were holding back in its place as you studied the neighboring books.

“Find what you were looking for?”

You kept your gaze on the small book shelf, seeing Cregan move towards you out of the corner of your eyes.

“No,” you replied, glancing at him briefly before returning your eyes to the book spines. “Have you?”

You could feel the warmth of his hands before even touched you, his palms stretching around your ribcage as he flipped you around to face him, keeping his grip on your waist tight. Not tight enough to hurt, but just enough to make heat pool between your legs.

“Do not feign ignorance,” he whispered, one hand coming up to brush a tendril of hair behind your ear. “It does not become you.”

“I was not trying to listen,” you said defiantly, lifting your chin as you spoke. “Your voice travels.”

Cregan looked at you, a hint of a smile on his lips. It wasn’t often that he let his emotions show, but lately, it was more often than not. He stepped closer, his feet caging you in, his strong thighs brushing over your dress. Your hand came up to rest on his chest, an act of intimacy you rarely allowed yourself, but in the privacy of his study? It would be alright.

“What do you say?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “To me being your wife?”

Cregan merely blinked at you, not filling the silence but you only sighed, looking away.

“Lord Karstark is against it,” you muttered, evasive. But Cregan wouldn’t have any of it, cupping your chin with his hand, gently turning you to face him.

“Who is he to tell me who I can marry or not?” he asked with a soft voice. “I only care what you think. If you will have me, I will fight anyone who dares to protest.”

A grin tugged on your lips and you cast your eyes down, but Cregan ducked his head to keep your gaze, a frown on his forehead, uncertainty filling him.

“Will you be my wife?”

“Oh for Gods’ sake,” you laughed, swatting at his chest. “Of course I will be your wife.”

A smile lit up Cregan's face and he leaned down to capture your lips with his, pressing your against the bookshelf. With a soft sigh, you reciprocated, your hand diving into his dark hair. His lips were hot against yours, stroking the heat between your legs into a fire, but he pulled away, letting out a soft breath.

"My wife, Lady Stark," he declared and you huffed, shaking your head.

"We are not wed just yet, husband," you reminded him with a grin, the title rolling off your tongue easily, but Cregan only pulled you closer, his arms settling around your waist.

"My heart has been yours from the moment we first kissed, my love. We might as well be wed."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: also tagging my cregan girly @dipperscavern MY BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION IS STILL ONGOING!!! head to my inbox/check my pinned post🤍

[eternally-racing]

racer girl | lando norris

pairing: dad! Lando x wife! reader (+ their adorable little kiddo)

wc: 1.3k

genre: fluff

warnings: none

summary: Lando's more than apprehensive when his daughter wants to try karting for the first time, but luckily you're there to hold his hand through it all.

note: this fic is part of the racer girl collection but can also be read as a stand alone !

----- The request came on the list your daughter, Piper, wrote for Santa, and as soon as you saw it you ran to go show your husband, Lando. “Go karting” was written in scraggly letters.

You had anticipated it to be a joyous event in the Norris household. None of you ever put any pressure on your daughter to follow in either of your footsteps, but the image of your little girl in a racing suit just like her daddy made you smile. You surprised Lando with the when you both were cleaning up after dinner, but the reaction you got is nothing like what you expected.

“She’s not going karting. End of story”

“It’s what she wants, Lan, and I think it makes perfect sense.”��

“It’s TOO dangerous. That’s my little girl out there.” 

You’ve never seen Lando look this serious in his life. He’s not being overdramatic or overzealous, but there’s a fire behind his eyes that tells you that he’s dead set on this. 

“Do you think your mother was ecstatic when she found out her son was in love with one of the most dangerous sports in the world? Probably not, but she let you do it anyway. Because you loved it, and who knows, maybe Piper’s gonna love it like her daddy.” 

This is why Lando loves you. You're always realistic and you keep him grounded while he floats away into overthinking on situations like this.

“I guess I’m just scared for her,” Lando says more quietly, taking a seat on the couch and curling in on himself. You’re quick to join him and cuddle into his side.

“You’ve seen what I’ve been through Y/N - the training, the crashes, the missed birthdays and weddings, the mental toll, how can you still say you want her to do this knowing all of that?”  

You sigh as you take Lando’s hands in yours. You rub your thumb over the back of his hands while you ask him your next question.

“Looking back, do you regret anything, Lan? Would you give up racing entirely if you had the chance to start all over again?”

He shakes his head in denial instantly, and you can see the wheels turning in his head as you lay with one another.

“We’re not committing to her becoming a Formula 1 driver, babe. She just grew up seeing her daddy do this really cool thing and wants to give it a try, and I don’t think it’s the worst thing if we let her.”

Lando buries himself further into your neck and he mumbles his next words. “Our little girl is growing up, isn’t she?” 

You don’t reply back with your words, but Lando understands you perfectly as you cuddle further into his side. 

- - - - - - 

It’s a rare instance when Lando tosses you the keys to drive to the track. He protects his McLaren like it’s his second child, but from the way his knee is bouncing in the passenger seat you know that he’s in no state to drive. It’s a perfectly mild cloudy day, yet Lando is wearing these ridiculous wide rimmed sunglasses that you can only assume he found in a hurry while foraging through your shared bathroom. While you may not tease him much for it since you know they’re covering his teary eyes, your daughter is still just as merciless and cheeky as her father usually is. Lando teaches her the word “allergies” on the drive down as he’s coming up with excuses for his sniffly state. 

When Piper first gets a helmet, she runs right past you to get her daddy to put it on her. She’s serious when she tells him not to make it “tew tight”, but Lando’s hands are shaking so much that he can hardly get the buckles done up anyways. She barely spares you both a second glance and Lando has to pull her back to give her a quick kiss on the helmet before she goes off. You both wrap her in your embrace and give her a squeeze until she’s telling you it’s time to let go, and Lando only gets halfway through his dad talk of “we can leave at any time if you get scared and I’m gonna be standing right here supporting you” before she’s already dashing away again. Piper is barely going past a crawling speed in the kart but something about the sight tugs at your heart. You’re used to this feeling, watching half your heart racing away while you’re on the sidelines, but you realize this is the first time Lando’s been in this position instead of being the one in the car. You reach for his hand and hold it tight as you lay your head on his shoulder. You two had so many “firsts” with your daughter: first steps, first time you left her at home, first words, and so much more, but none of them compared to this feeling of watching her karting for the first time. 

The first time Piper bumps into a wall Lando says that he thinks he’s gonna throw up and you have to almost physically hold him back from running out there to her. Once you see a big thumbs up from your daughter to confirm she’s okay, the whole situation earns a little giggle from you and you reply back with Lando with “imagine instead of going into the wall at 3km/h it’s actually 313km/h and you’re watching the father of your children crash.” 

Lando’s never seen your point of view before like this. You spent years on the paddock as the worried girlfriend, then as the worried fiance, then as the worried wife, and then finally as the worried pregnant wife (probably the worst situation of all since you were already nauseous anyways). You never once pushed him into retiring for the sake of your family - you could see the joy the sport brought him and he always appreciated your respect for that. He thinks having to watch on the sidelines might be even harder than actually being on the track, and he looks at you with a newfound appreciation for your strength as you cheer on your daughter.

“Thank you.” Lando whispers to you with a little crack in his voice.

It’s more than a thank you for convincing him to let Piper do this - it’s a thank you for supporting him all these years, through all the ups and downs of his racing career. You only hold onto him tighter as a response, pulling out your phone too to capture the moment. Whether Piper continues in motorsport or not, you know this is a moment that you’ll both treasure forever. 

That night Piper begs for you both to put on the home video of Lando’s first karting win while she eats her supper. You’ve never seen your daughter this happy before, and you know from the look on Lando’s face that he thinks the same. It’s only after she retells her experience in karting from start to finish for the 4th time over that you’re able to finally bargain with her to go to sleep. Her one concession is that she sleep with her helmet in her bed, an action that brings the tears right back to the forefront of Lando’s eyes since that was something he did as a kid too.

“Our baby girl is going to be the first ever female driver in formula 1” he cooes as you both stand at the foot of her bed. “Typical Lando” you call out, not surprised one bit that he’s gone from banning his daughter from stepping foot into a kart to imagining her future in motorsport history all within the span of a couple of days. You have to slow him down before he starts going off on a tangent about the best places to train and the moments he can’t wait for her to experience in the sport. But at the end of the day you’re so happy that Lando came around on this (an “i told you so” or two sometimes slip out when the topic comes up), and you know that it’s going to be a fun journey being karting parents for as long as Piper wants to do so. 

----

author's note: this was such a fun one to write <3 you'll probably see a lot more dad! Lando on my page in the future! If you have any dad! Lando scenarios (or any scenarios really) that you want me to write, feel free to drop them in my ask box! Until next time <3 - Em

[ticifics]

Hello! I saw you writing for vronsky and I was wondering if I could make a request. :) Vronsky is like my comfort character so I was wondering if you could do; vronsky with wife that has a hard time eating; afraid that he might not find her attractive anymore or something. Ofc he notices whether that is that her dresses are suddenly getting too big for her or not remembering the last time they had dinner together.

If you don't feel comfortable writing this feel free to decline! Also don't push yourself to write!

Sending loveee!! (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)

Perfect As You Are

Count Vronsky x fem!reader

Summary: "I just… I wanted to be perfect for you." He shook his head, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "You are already perfect for me. You always have been. You always will be."

Warnings: hurt&comfort, body image issues, fluffy - a madly in love Alexei showing how perfect his wife is

N/A: hey darling, i hope what i wrote can bring you some comfort when you read it <333 aaw, I made some small changes to the request, buuut nothing that changes things much - and i would like to say that each and every one of you are wonderful, so please be kind to yourself

The journey had been exhausting, and the month away felt like an eternity. Alexei Vronsky, usually impeccable in his composure, could hardly maintain it as the carriage drew closer to his estate. He had imagined this moment countless times, but now that he was mere steps away from seeing you again, his chest felt too small to hold the longing that had been building inside him.

Upon entering the house, he left the luggage to the servants and was greeted by the housekeeper. The woman hurried to welcome him, but Alexei raised his hand, courteous yet firm. “Dinner will be served in the bedroom tonight,” he said, his voice steady but laden with expectation. He didn’t intend to waste a single moment away from you. With that, he ascended the stairs briskly, seeking the one person who had occupied his thoughts from the moment he had departed.

When the bedroom door opened, you were there. And the entire world seemed to stop.

You turned at the sound of the door creaking, surprise flashing in your eyes before it was overtaken by something else: a mix of relief and emotion only he could evoke in you. Alexei stood before you, more striking than any memory your mind could conjure. The blue uniform you so admired looked as if it had been tailored specifically for him, every line and detail accentuating his natural elegance.

Before you could say anything, he was already by your side, crossing the room with a sense of urgency that made you forget how to breathe. His hands found your waist, and in an instant, he pulled you against his chest. The unmistakable scent you had missed so many nights enveloped your senses, and before you could even react, his lips captured yours.

The kiss was intense, a mixture of longing and need. Alexei didn’t seem inclined to hold back, every gesture of his conveying just how much he had yearned for this moment. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, his hands sliding up your back as though he needed to feel every part of you to believe you were truly there, real and within his reach again.

“My God,” he murmured against your lips when he finally pulled back, just enough to catch his breath. “You have no idea how I dreamed of this… of you.” His thumb brushed against your cheek, and his gaze met yours with an intensity that made your knees weak.

You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. He, however, seemed full of them.

“I thought I remembered everything,” he continued, his voice low and smooth, like a whisper meant only for you. “But I was wrong. Nothing I imagined could compare to you like this, standing before me—so beautiful… so mine.”

His words made your face burn, and you averted your eyes for a moment, unable to withstand the weight of his gaze. Alexei noticed, and a small smile played at the corner of his lips—that same disarming smile that always left you defenseless. He knew the effect he had on you, and he seemed to savor every second of it.

But then, something shifted. Alexei’s eyes, which had been locked on yours, began to drift, taking in details he hadn’t noticed at first. He saw how the dress that once hugged your figure now seemed slightly loose. Your shoulders appeared thinner, your collarbone more pronounced than he remembered, and there was a pallor to your face that wasn’t usual.

A faint furrow appeared between his brows, so subtle you almost missed it. But when he stepped back slightly to look at you more closely, the concern in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Alexei?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but your voice wavered, betraying the nervousness rising within you.

His gaze snapped back to yours, and the intensity from before gave way to poorly masked worry. He hesitated, as though searching for the right words. But before he could say anything, you rushed to shift the focus.

“You should have let me know you were coming,” you said, forcing a smile and stepping away slightly, as if trying to create some distance. “I would have prepared to greet you properly. The house is a mess, and look at me…”

You tried to laugh, but he didn’t. Instead, he took a step closer, closing the distance again, and his hand moved to your waist, stopping any attempt to escape.

“Look at you,” he repeated, his voice low, almost a whisper, but so heavy with emotion it made your stomach turn. He cradled your face with a tenderness that contrasted with his earlier urgency, and his eyes found yours again. “I am looking. And I see the most beautiful woman who’s ever existed.”

The sincerity in his voice was overwhelming, and you felt a tightness in your chest. You wanted to believe his words, but the insecurities that had grown in his absence wouldn’t disappear so easily.

Alexei tilted his head, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw as he spoke. “You are everything I thought you were… and more. No absence, no time, no distance could ever change that.”

His words had barely left his lips before Alexei stepped closer again, his hands finding your waist with a firmness that spoke of a fear you might slip away. Before you could formulate a response, he lowered his head, and his lips met yours once more.

This time, the kiss was more urgent, almost desperate. Alexei seemed determined to convey everything words could not: the longing that had consumed every day of his absence, the desire that only grew with every thought of you, the insatiable need to have you as close as humanly possible.

His hand slid up to your nape, fingers threading into your hair as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. Your knees weakened under the intensity of the moment, and the only thing keeping you upright was his arm, still firmly wrapped around your waist, holding you as though the world depended on it.

"You have no idea how much I missed you," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and laden with emotion, barely audible amidst the kisses he seemed unwilling to break.

You tried to respond, but it was impossible. He gave you no room for words, and, truthfully, you didn’t want to speak. Every touch of his was a confession, every movement a silent declaration. When his lips left yours only to trail along your jaw and down the curve of your neck, you closed your eyes, warmth coursing through your skin in waves.

“My God, I dreamed of this,” Alexei continued, his breath hot against your skin as his lips drew an almost reverent line along your neck. “Every night I spent away from you… All I wanted was to be here, with you, like this…”

His words were a mix of love and longing, each chosen as if to carve them into your very being. But there was something more. Even as his desire was palpable, there was a vulnerability in Alexei—a sense that he was trying to make up for lost time, to reassure himself that you were still his, as entirely as he was yours.

His fingers slid along your waist, moving up to the small space between your back and your dress, a touch that sent a shiver down your spine. You wanted to give in. To sink entirely into his passion, letting him chase away all the thoughts that had consumed you in recent days. But at the same time, the unease that had settled in your heart over the past months stirred like an unwelcome reminder.

“Alexei…” Your voice came out almost as a whisper, broken by the rapid rise and fall of your breath. He paused, his lips still close to your skin, before lifting his gaze to yours.

His eyes were dark, intense, but above all, they held a tenderness that always made your heart falter. He didn’t say anything, waiting, as he always did, allowing you to set the boundaries.

You gently pushed his hands away, your breath still unsteady, though you tried to mask your unease with a small smile. “You must be exhausted,” you said, your voice slightly shaky as you met his gaze. “You should bathe… and rest. Tomorrow, we’ll have more time together.”

Alexei’s brow furrowed slightly, confusion flickering across his features, but he stepped back. Even as the intensity still burned in his eyes, concern began to take its place.

“I waited for you for weeks, and now you want me to rest?” he asked, his tone almost playful, yet carrying a certain weight.

You smiled, looking away. “It’s because I want you to be well. Besides, I imagine the journey was long.”

For a moment, Alexei didn’t move, as if trying to decipher something in you. But then he sighed, always willing to respect the space you asked for, even if it pained him.

“As you wish,” he said at last, though before he released your waist entirely, he leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, tender and full of affection. “But know this, my love—I am not a patient man by nature. And my absence has only made it worse.”

Heat rose to your cheeks again, and Alexei’s lips curved into a faint smile as he noticed, a glimmer of mischief lighting his eyes before he stepped back completely.

“I’ll bathe, as you’ve asked,” he said, already heading for the door. “But as for resting… that depends entirely on you.”

He cast one last look over his shoulder, so full of longing and tenderness that your heart quickened all over again. And then he disappeared down the corridor, leaving you alone in the room, your lips still tingling from his touch and his words echoing in your mind.

The silence Alexei left behind as he exited seemed to echo through the room. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart, but the feeling of suffocation only seemed to grow. Hesitantly, you walked to the mirror in the corner of the room, almost fearing what you might find.

The image reflected back wasn’t comforting. Your eyes lingered on your narrow shoulders, now accentuated by the loose fabric of the dress. The outline of your collarbone seemed more pronounced, and your face sharper. But it wasn’t enough. It never was. Your gaze drifted to your waist, slimmer than it had been a few months ago, but still nowhere near the silhouettes of other women. Even the corset couldn’t fix the problem. You bit your lower lip, feeling a knot tighten in your chest.

He didn’t notice, you tried convincing yourself. Or, if he did, he said nothing because he loves you, because he’s happy to finally be home. But what would happen when that initial happiness wore off? When he started noticing the details?

The memory of Alexei talking about the ladies he encountered at social events came to mind like a restless ghost. He’d never said anything malicious, but his comments — “a charming young woman, slender like a ballerina” — lingered in your thoughts. And now, standing before the mirror, you felt as if you’d never be enough.

Still, he had come back. He loved you, didn’t he? You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to cling to the happiness you should feel for his presence, but the tightness in your chest refused to subside.

Several minutes passed before you heard the sound of the bathroom door opening. Turning, you saw Alexei standing in the doorway, and the sight made your heart falter.

He was no longer in his uniform, but the simple clothing — a white shirt open at the collar, revealing part of his chest, and linen trousers — did nothing to diminish his presence. If anything, there was something so intimately seductive about the way his damp hair fell messily across his face, a few strands sticking to his forehead.

You couldn’t help yourself. Your eyes traced the outline of his chest, the line of his jaw, the way the muscles in his arms were evident even beneath the simplicity of his attire. He was absolutely stunning, and the heat rose to your face before you could stop it.

“Admiring me, darling?” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, low and teasing, with a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

You opened your mouth to deny it, but the look in his eyes told you he knew exactly the effect he had on you.

“No need to explain yourself,” he continued, walking toward you slowly, each step filled with a natural confidence that always left you breathless. “I remember very well how much you like looking at me like that.”

“Alexei…” you began, trying to sound reproachful, but his name came out more as a sigh than anything else.

“Yes?” He stopped right in front of you, so close you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. One of his hands rose to your face, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your jaw before holding your chin, tilting it slightly so you had no choice but to look at him.

His eyes were locked on yours, and the smile he wore now was different—less playful, more serious, almost possessive. “You have no idea how beautiful it is to come home and find you here,” he murmured, his fingers still holding your face with tenderness.

Before he could say more, the sound of knocking at the door interrupted the moment. You instinctively stepped back, your heart racing for an entirely different reason. Alexei frowned slightly but turned toward the door with a casual ease.

“Come in,” he called, his voice returning to its usual calm, authoritative tone.

The door opened to reveal a maid carrying a tray. She seemed slightly nervous upon seeing Alexei there, but he only offered her a faint smile, a gesture that seemed to ease any tension.

“Leave it here, please,” he said, motioning to the small table near the fireplace.

The maid obeyed quickly, setting the tray down before offering a slight bow and leaving, closing the door behind her.

Alexei turned back to you, his smile now softer. “I asked for dinner to be served here,” he explained, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of affection and mischief. “I want to savor every moment with you, uninterrupted.”

You tried to smile, but the weight in your chest didn’t completely lift. Still, when he extended his hand to you, there was something so earnest in his gaze that you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse.

You sat at the small table with Alexei, the aroma of dinner spreading through the room. He was seated directly across from you, so close that his presence was almost palpable, yet his gaze was even more intense. Alexei didn’t hide it; he was watching you, examining every detail with a focus that was both endearing and unsettling.

“Try this,” he suggested, carefully placing a piece of the nearest dish on your plate. “It reminds me of something you liked when we were in Moscow. I had it specially prepared for you.”

You smiled, or at least you tried to. The happiness of having him back and the guilt of not fully meeting his expectations waged a silent battle within you. You picked up your fork with slightly trembling fingers, brought a small bite to your lips, but as you chewed, something felt off. It wasn’t the taste—it was the sensation, as though the simple act of eating was something your body refused to cooperate with.

Alexei noticed. He always noticed.

“You don’t like it?” he asked, his tone casual, though a flicker of suspicion underlined his words.

“No, it’s wonderful,” you replied quickly, trying to sound convincing. “I just… ate earlier, I suppose I’m not that hungry.”

He nodded slowly, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. “I see.”

Dinner continued—or rather, he ate while you barely touched your plate. Your posture remained stiff, shoulders tense, your movements restricted by the corset pressing tightly against your ribs, making every breath feel deliberate. You tried to focus on Alexei, on the small stories he shared about his trip, but even that felt heavy.

“Are you all right?” he asked suddenly, breaking the brief silence that had settled between you.

“I’m fine,” you answered too quickly, with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Just tired. You know how hectic these past weeks have been.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and you knew Alexei wasn’t convinced. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze pinning you in place as if trying to unravel you.

“You’ve barely touched your food,” he said softly but firmly. “And there’s… something different about you.”

You averted your eyes, your heart hammering in your chest. “Alexei, please don’t start. You just got back, and I want to enjoy this moment, not turn it into something uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?” His brows furrowed, irritation flickering in his expression, though concern softened his voice. “What’s uncomfortable for me, kroshka, is seeing you like this and not knowing why.”

“Like what?” you shot back, trying to sound defiant, but the tremor in your voice betrayed any semblance of strength.

“Thinner. More… distant.” He gestured toward you with a subtle motion, his strong fingers seeming to hesitate. “You’re trembling. You can’t even eat. What happened while I was away?”

“I told you, I’m just tired,” you insisted, trying once more to avoid his gaze, but he wouldn’t allow it. Alexei stood, moving around the table until he was kneeling beside you, his commanding presence somehow feeling tender in that vulnerable position.

He took your hand, his fingers warm as they enclosed yours, firm yet gentle. “Please, tell me the truth. Don’t hide this from me.”

Your chest tightened at the intensity in his eyes, the rare vulnerability Alexei almost never allowed to show. He was always the strong, confident man, but here, kneeling before you, there was something almost desperate in his posture.

“Alexei…” you began, your voice wavering. “It’s just… I just wanted…”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze locked onto yours, patient yet urging.

“I wanted to be enough,” you finally confessed, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

The silence that followed was deafening. Alexei remained still, but you could see the way his jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with a mixture of emotions you couldn’t fully decipher.

“Enough?” he echoed, his voice so low it was barely a whisper. “You think you’re not enough for me?”

You didn’t respond immediately, unable to meet his gaze. But Alexei wouldn’t allow the distance. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a long, warm kiss to your trembling fingers.

“Look at me,” he commanded softly, though there was undeniable intensity in his tone. When you finally obeyed, his eyes burned with something that looked like anger—but not at you.

“You are everything to me,” he declared, his voice rough with emotion. “Everything. And it hurts me to think you spent even one moment believing you weren’t enough.”

His words, the passion in his eyes, hit you like a blow straight to the chest. Tears threatened to spill, but you held them back, shaking your head slightly. “You don’t understand… all those women you meet, so… so…”

“So irrelevant,” he interrupted, his voice growing firm again. “So insignificant compared to you. I could be surrounded by a thousand of them, and none would come close to you.”

He leaned closer, his face inches from yours, his words a warm caress against your skin. “If something about you has changed, it’s not because I wished it. Not because I wanted it.”

Alexei remained kneeling in front of you, as though the ground was the only place where he could bear the weight of what he was hearing. His eyes, always so full of an almost arrogant confidence, now held something that bordered on desperation.

"You don't understand," you murmured, your voice low and hesitant. "I just… I didn’t want you to look at me and see someone lesser. There are so many women out there, so… perfect. And I—"

"Stop that," he interrupted, his voice firmer now, though no less gentle. He leaned forward, taking your hands in his, his grip steady and grounding. "I’ve told you before, love. You are everything. There is no one who can compare to you. Not in beauty, not in strength, not in anything."

You tried to look away, but Alexei wouldn’t allow it. One of his hands rose to your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek with a tenderness so profound it felt as though it could break down every wall you'd built.

"Please, tell me you know this," he implored, his voice trembling slightly. "Tell me that, deep down, you know how precious you are to me."

The tears you’d been holding back began to surface, burning at your eyes, but you shook your head stubbornly. "I wanted to be better," you whispered, the words bitter as they left your lips. "I wanted to be everything you deserve."

Alexei took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as though steadying himself against a torrent of emotions. When he opened them again, they burned with unshakable resolve.

"You don’t need to be anything but who you are," he said, his voice firmer now, though still laced with tenderness. He leaned closer, his hands cradling your face as his gaze bore into yours. "And if anyone dared make you feel otherwise, tell me, because I—"

Before he could finish, a sob escaped your throat. You tried to stifle it, but it was too late. The tears began to fall, and the weight of the pain you’d been hiding finally broke free.

"Alexei, I’m so sorry," you cried, your shoulders shaking as the words spilled out between your sobs. "I just… I didn’t know how—"

He didn’t wait for you to finish. Alexei pulled you into his arms, enveloping you with such care and tenderness it was almost overwhelming. Your face pressed against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat grounding you as his hand moved gently along your back.

"Shhh, love, it’s okay," he whispered against your hair. "It’s okay now. I’m here."

But as he held you, the trembling in your body and the uneven rhythm of your breathing became impossible to ignore. It was as though each inhale was a struggle, the corset squeezing the air from your lungs and turning every movement into an act of endurance.

"You can barely breathe," he said suddenly, the worry flooding his voice. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands steady but his eyes brimming with concern as they scanned your face and frame.

"Alexei, what are you—" you began, but he was already undoing the ties of your corset, his fingers moving with the precision of someone who had done this countless times before.

"Stay still," he instructed, his voice low but commanding. "I need to get this off now."

"But—"

"No buts," he cut in, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of determination and worry.

The bindings began to loosen, and as the pressure around your torso released, relief flooded through your body, accompanied by a sense of raw vulnerability. When Alexei finally removed the corset completely, he sat back slightly, his gaze falling on what the fabric had hidden.

His eyes widened, shock and pain darkening his features. The deep red marks left by the constriction seemed to haunt him, his normally steady hands trembling slightly as they ghosted over the impressions on your skin, careful not to hurt you further.

"My God," he murmured, almost to himself. "What have you done to yourself?"

You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. The lump in your throat was too large, the shame too overwhelming.

"Why?" Alexei asked, his voice breaking as his eyes found yours again. The anguish in his tone was almost unbearable. "Why, darling? What made you think you needed to do this?"

The tears returned, but this time, you didn’t hold them back. Alexei leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours as his fingers traced the marks softly, as though trying to erase them with his touch.

"I failed you," he whispered, his voice thick with guilt. "Somehow, I failed you, and you suffered for it."

"No, Alexei, it’s not your fault," you managed, your voice trembling. "I just… I wanted to be perfect for you."

He shook his head, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "You are already perfect for me. You always have been. You always will be."

The weight of his words, the intensity of his gaze, filled the space between you, every touch and every whispered assurance brimming with raw emotion. Alexei pulled you back into his embrace, holding you as though he could shield you from any pain, even if he couldn’t undo what had already been done.

"I will never let you feel this way again," he vowed, his voice steady despite the emotion. "Never again, love. I swear it."

Alexei held you with a tenderness that seemed meant to mend all the broken pieces inside you. He pulled you close again, as if wanting to erase any distance—physical or emotional—between you. The warmth of his body was a silent reminder that you weren’t alone, that you had never been, even in the moments when your heart insisted otherwise.

His fingers continued tracing invisible lines across your skin, now free from the suffocating grip of the corset. Each touch was delicate, almost reverent, as if he wanted to ensure you understood just how precious you were to him.

“You have no idea how much it hurts me to know you felt this way,” Alexei said, his voice low but filled with emotion. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes shining softly in the room’s light. “And worse, to know you did this to yourself because of me.”

“Alexei…” you tried to protest, but he shook his head, a sad smile curving his lips.

“Let me finish,” he gently requested. “Because I need you to understand.”

His eyes roamed your face, as though he were committing every detail to memory. The way his golden hair fell slightly over his forehead made him seem almost unreal, like he had stepped out of a painting. The intensity in his blue eyes was undeniable, as if every word he spoke came from a deep, unwavering place inside him.

“I will never stop wanting you,” he said, his voice soft but laden with sincerity. “No matter how you see yourself, no matter what you think needs changing. To me, you are perfect exactly as you are.”

Your face warmed under the weight of his gaze, and you looked away, trying to suppress the flush rising to your cheeks. But Alexei chuckled softly, a warm sound that wrapped around you like a blanket.

“Don’t look away from me now, love,” he teased, tilting his head to capture your gaze again. “I want to see those flushed cheeks. They’re one of my favorite things about you.”

“You talk too much,” you murmured, your voice tinged with a rare shyness.

“And you deserve every word,” he replied without hesitation, a smile spreading across his face in a way that stole the breath from your lungs.

His fingers rose to gently caress your cheek again, his eyes studying every nuance of your expression. “I could stay here for hours, just looking at you. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are to me? How every little detail makes me want to be closer?”

You bit your lip, trying to stifle the smile threatening to break free. There was something about the way he spoke—so direct, so earnest—that made it impossible not to believe him.

“Alexei,” you began, but he tilted his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead, cutting off your protest.

“You’re the only thing that matters to me,” he murmured against your skin, his lips warm and sending a shiver down your spine. “Nothing in the world could make me want someone else. Not your appearance, not your attitude, nothing. I love you, kroshka, exactly as you are. And if you ever doubt that again, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving otherwise.”

His words washed over you like a tide, enveloping you completely. You couldn’t help it; tears filled your eyes again, but this time they weren’t born of pain or sadness. They were tears of relief, of joy, of something deeper than you could name.

He smiled as he noticed, leaning in to press another kiss, this time to the corners of your eyes, as if capturing each tear before it could fall.

“See?” he murmured, his voice dripping with tenderness. “Even when you cry, you’re beautiful.”

You let out a shaky laugh, lightly pushing his shoulder in an attempt to hide your bashfulness, but Alexei only laughed again, a warm sound that seemed to light up the entire room.

“I love when you try to hide it,” he teased, his eyes glinting with what could only be described as pure adoration. “But you don’t have to. Not with me.”

The way he looked at you, as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world, was almost unbearable in its intensity. But at the same time, it was comforting. It felt, for the first time, like you could let go of all your insecurities and simply be.

When he pulled you back into his arms, you found yourself relaxing against him, your heart slowing to a calmer rhythm. The warmth of his body, the safety of his embrace, the softness of his words… everything felt right, as if this was exactly where you were meant to be.

“Promise me you’ll never hide from me again,” Alexei softly requested, his lips close to your ear. “Promise that next time something weighs on you, you’ll let me carry it with you.”

“I promise,” you replied, your voice quiet but genuine.

And there, in his arms, as the night wrapped around you in its tranquil embrace, you felt like you could finally believe it.

[solarmorrigan]

Open Doors, Part 1

Ao3

Everyone was so kind about the first fic I wrote about Steve and Eddie's neighbor adopting them that I had a few more thoughts about it! I owe you all thanks for the inspiration and I hope this is also an enjoyable read <3 Part two will be up later this week

Tags: POV Outsider, Steve Harrington Has Migraines, Protective Eddie Munson, past minor character death, car accident mention, the looming specter of period-typical homophobia

-

Gladys isn’t a churchgoing woman. She’s never even been particularly religious, beyond a performative sort of faith for the sake of her God-fearing mother (God rest her soul, Gladys supposes), but Sundays are sacred, all the same.

Sundays are for Murder She Wrote. And, more recently, they’re for dinner with her boys.

Neither Eddie nor Steve are the religious sort, either (she’d brought it up once, just to see, and they’d laughed a little in an uncomfortable sort of way that had told Gladys all she’d really needed to know), but Steve is a fellow fan of Jessica Fletcher, and Eddie is happy enough to join them on the couch after a good meal and watch them compete to see who can guess the solution first.

It’s something they all look forward to, so Gladys isn’t sure why she’s been left standing in front of the boys’ front door a full minute after she’s knocked. They ought to be expecting her, after all; they take turns hosting, and Gladys is sure it had been her turn last week. She knocks again, a little louder this time.

After another few moments, she hears the thud of hurried footsteps coming towards the door, and then Eddie’s voice is hissing out at her before he’s even finished opening it.

“I’m here already, now will you keep it–” he falters when he sees her standing before him on the doormat, “–down?”

“Well, if I’d known that was the kind of welcome I’d receive, I would have stayed home,” Gladys says dryly.

Eddie’s face morphs quickly from irritation to confusion and, finally, to a kind of horrified understanding.

“Oh, shit, it’s Sunday,” he realizes, voice still pitched low.

Taking in the state of him, it seems as though Gladys has interrupted some kind of lazy day; his hair is a mess (more so than usual), and he’s in pajamas and bare feet.

It smarts a little to think their evening has been so easily forgotten.

“It is Sunday,” Gladys confirms, maybe a little sharply. “But I can see you’ve had other things to do, so maybe we’ll just try again for next week.”

“I’m sorry, Gladys,” Eddie sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Today’s been… stressful. I swear I meant to call, I just got distracted.”

Gladys softens. She doubts if she could stay mad terribly long even if they had forgotten, but it’s nice to know they hadn’t, exactly. “It’s fine, Eddie,” she says, reaching out to pat his hand.

“It’s not, I seriously meant to let you know,” Eddie insists. “We can make it up to you next week? Or maybe, like, Tuesday? Tomorrow’s not gonna work, but–”

Whatever else Eddie has to say is lost when the door at the end of the hall, the one Gladys knows from the layout of her own apartment leads to the larger of two bedrooms, swings open with a creak. It’s dark beyond the threshold, but Steve is standing in the doorway, holding onto the edge of it and looking far more disheveled than Eddie.

With a faint flush of embarrassment, Gladys wonders if she’s walked in on some sort of… private time between them, but then Steve takes a few unsteady steps into the hallway and has to brace himself against the wall, and she realizes that something else altogether must be going on.

“Hey, hey,” Eddie says softly, leaving Gladys at the front door to rush down the hall and support Steve. “What’re you doing up?”

Steve, also clad in pajamas, his face almost shock-pale and his hair flatter than Gladys has ever seen it, makes a little noise of discomfort as Eddie pulls him away from the wall. It’s jarring to see when Gladys is so used to Steve moving with the confidence and easy grace of the athlete he’d told her he once was. His eyes are scrunched shut, but he moves from leaning heavily on the wall to leaning heavily on Eddie without hesitation.

“You were gone,” Steve mumbles, his head falling to rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie glances down the hall to where Gladys stands at the still-open front door, something almost like nervous, but he doesn’t make Steve move away. Instead, he moves his hands to Steve’s shoulders, kneading gently. “I had to get the door. Gladys is here.”

“Gladys?” Steve mutters, and then, after another moment of silence, groans, “Oh, shit, it’s Sunday.”

Gladys almost laughs at the way he unwittingly echoes Eddie. Eddie does laugh; just a little breath of a thing, something helplessly fond crossing his face.

“It’s fine, Steve. We’ll take a raincheck,” Gladys says, just loud enough that she’ll still be heard from the other end of the short hall.

Steve makes a protesting noise, straightening a little so he can face the front door. He opens his eyes just enough to squint at her, and it really only serves to make him look more pained and tired. “’m sorry,” he mutters, his words stumbling worryingly into each other. “Wasn’xpecting this today.”

“It’s fine,” Gladys says again. “You just feel better.”

He’s still frowning, and Gladys gets the feeling it’s as much out of displeasure with the situation as it is out of discomfort, but then Eddie tugs gently at his shoulders, turning him back towards the bedroom.

“C’mon, ba– Steve. Let’s get you back to bed.” Eddie glances down the hall at Gladys one more time before leading Steve away.

Silence falls over the apartment, and Gladys takes the opportunity to invite herself in, shutting the door behind her. She won’t stay long, of course, she just wants to be certain that Steve—and Eddie, who had looked awfully stressed—will be alright. The low tone of Eddie’s voice drifts out of the bedroom, quiet and indecipherable, followed by a grumbling that must be Steve, and then Eddie is slipping back out into the hall, shutting the bedroom door as he goes.

“Everything alright?” Gladys asks, keeping her voice low.

Eddie sighs. “He, uh – he gets migraines, sometimes.” He raises a fist and raps his knuckles against his temple. “Took a couple’a knocks to the head when we were younger and– yeah. Today’s a bad one.”

Gladys itches to ask, to press for more information, but she does actually possess a filter; she knows when to hold her tongue, even if she usually chooses not to. Instead, she says, “But he’ll be alright,” not really sure if she’s asking or reassuring.

“No, yeah, he’ll be fine, he just needs to rest.” Eddie nods, as much to himself as to Gladys.

“And you’ll be alright?” Gladys goes on.

Eddie shoots her a funny little look. “Yeah?” His voice quirks up at the end, like he isn’t sure why she’s asking. “I mean, I’m not the one whose brain is staging a full-scale revolt.”

“But you’re here with him,” Gladys says. “It’s hard to watch someone you care about be in pain.”

It had been a car accident that had taken Avery from her, not illness, but the few days she’d spent in the hospital with him, keeping vigil until his damaged body had given up, had been some of the worst of her life.

“I guess.” Eddie sighs, rubbing roughly at his chin. “It’s– They make medication for this shit, but it’s expensive, so we can’t– Sleep is really the only thing that helps, and it just sucks to sit around knowing I can’t do a damn thing for him while he’s– he’s suffering.”

“You’re here with him,” Gladys says again. “It seems like he appreciates that enough that he came looking for you when you’d gone.”

The ghost of a smile crosses over Eddie’s face. “Yeah…”

“I think you’re doing just fine.” Gladys reaches out and gives Eddie’s arm a little squeeze, and his smile grows.

He reaches up and twists his fingers into the ends of his hair, half-ducking behind it, as if he’s trying to hide the smile from her, but she can hear it in his voice when he tosses out a quick, “Well– thanks.”

“You just keep taking care of your boy, and I’ll see you two later in the week,” Gladys says, and Eddie nods.

“Yeah, I’ll–” he stops, blinking at Gladys as the full sentence hits him. “Uh–”

Gladys offers him a smile, seeing herself out the door. “Let me know if you need anything,” she tosses back over her shoulder quietly as she can, and shuts the door on his confounded expression.

She doesn’t know much about migraines, but she supposes she could learn. In the meantime, she decides that no matter what the ailment is, chicken soup is always an appropriate answer.

[toasecretsanta]

Percy Jackson and the Herald of Destruction

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Gen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Apollo, Percy, Estelle A visit to the Jackson-Blofis household brings Apollo face-to-face with one Estelle Jackson-Blofis once more, and her doting big brother. A toasecretsanta submission from @tsarinatorment for Melonyan [AO3], using the prompt "Apollo, Percy Jackson and Estelle Bloufis-Jackson inspired, something sweet maybe a little angsty!" I have shamelessly used aeithalian's Estelle theory in this fic, which can be found detailed here. It's been a while since I last wrote Apollo pov, and I barely ever write Percy, so this was a bit of an adventure to put together. It's certainly closer to fluff than angst, I think, but I still hope you like it, Melonyan!

As a general rule, gods did not knock on the doors of mortal homes.  Nor did they ring intercoms and wait patiently to be let in.  Why would they?  They were gods, and bound by neither mortal social niceties, nor the limitations of mortal entrances.  It was perfectly possible – and normal – for a god to simply materialise in the best chair in the abode (opinions on what constituted the best varied drastically).

And yet, there Apollo was, pressing the button for the intercom for the Jackson-Blofis household.

Belatedly, he realised that the occupants were unlikely to be expecting him to take the mortal entrance, not now he was a fully fledged god again, rather than a vulnerable mortal body that couldn’t do useful tricks like light-teleportation, but the button had already been pressed, and Apollo was not about to do a knock-and-run.  Besides, he’d been invited, yes, but generally even invited guests were expected to use the front door.

There was also probably no harm in allowing Percy control over who entered his home – and how they entered.  Olympus knew they’d taken enough control from the demigod over the past few years.

Really, it was a wonder the boy – almost adult now, closer to young man than boy – was willing to tolerate Apollo’s invasion of his home again.

The intercom connected with a buzz.

“Who is it?” Percy’s voice demanded, crackling slightly through the technology.  Modern technology and demigods didn’t always mix well, although they persevered remarkably as society kept advancing and their choice was to keep up or turn luddite.

Apollo cleared his throat, an unnecessary action but one that helped announce his presence – and a long ingrained habit that Apollo wasn’t in any real hurry to shake.  He liked the way it brought everyone’s attention to him before he started speaking.

“It’s me,” he announced, the words falling away into a silence that Percy didn’t break, and after a few awkward moments, Apollo remembered that Percy couldn’t actually see him from his apartment.  “Apollo,” he added on belatedly, and a little awkwardly.

Percy’s silent judgement was impressive, given they were several floors apart and couldn’t actually see each other.  Clearly to the son of Poseidon that was a minor inconvenience that was easily ignored.

He also, more pressingly, wasn’t letting Apollo in.

“Paul invited me?”  The words weren’t supposed to come out as a question, because there was no question about it.  Paul Blofis had certainly invited Apollo into the humble Jackson-Blofis abode.  Although, one could argue that the question was actually asking whether or not Percy had been informed by his step father that Paul had invited a god over for an afternoon.

Those seemed to be the magic words, however, as with a put-upon sigh that made Percy’s thoughts on the matter of Apollo’s presence in his home crystal clear, he finally, finally pressed the button to open the front door of the apartment block and gave Apollo entry into the building.  Apollo did not waste the invitation, slipping in immediately and following the familiar route to Percy Jackson’s apartment – familiar, because while Lester’s memories as Apollo had been more full of holes than one of Britomartis’ nets, Apollo could recall everything he had experienced as Lester in pin-sharp clarity.  Many of those things he would rather forget, admittedly, but traipsing towards the front door of the Jackson-Blofis apartment had not been, inherently, full of uncomfortable trauma.

In fact, Sally Jackson had been incredibly welcoming to poor, unfortunate Lester, and Apollo was not afraid to admit that he was hoping to find some of her seven layer dip waiting for him – or some of her blue cookies, he supposed, but between the two it was the seven layer dip that had captured his heart.  Its inclusion of his cabin number certainly didn’t hurt.

He was not greeted by a seven layer dip, tragically.  Nor was he greeted by a plate of blue cookies, or Sally Jackson at all.  Paul Blofis was also summarily absent, which seemed a little rude given Apollo was here on the man’s invitation.

No, instead he was greeted by his demigod cousin, who looked no more pleased to see him now than he had been to see a mortal, beaten-up Lester and trash-covered street urchin Meg in the middle of one chilly January.  Percy was not alone, however.  Clinging to him, but staring out at Apollo with wide sea-green eyes that almost identically matched those of her big brother, was young Estelle.

There were not many things that unnerved Apollo – well, maybe there were a few, but most did not apply to this situation, or indeed most situations that he allowed himself to enter nowadays – but one Estelle Jackson-Blofis managed to do exactly that.  It was nothing the young girl had done – at scarcely a year old, there was very little she was capable of doing, beyond apparently chewing on her big brother’s hoodie string, which Percy had either given up discouraging, or hadn’t even noticed she was doing.  Indeed, to look at her, there was nothing untoward.

True, she had the exact same eye colour as her demigod brother, who had inherited Poseidon’s preferred appearance, which raised a few questions about her origins although Apollo could detect nothing as strong as demigodliness about her.  Strains of a distant legacy?  Yes, but the same strains ran through Sally Jackson, so that was to be expected.  Estelle was no demigod.

She was simply a young, mortal child, who coincidentally had the same eye colour as Apollo’s uncle, and his dark hair, too, but Paul also had the same dark hair, and Apollo had no difficulty in recognising her as being his biological daughter.

He almost, almost, wouldn’t have known any different than what he saw now.  Indeed, if he hadn’t seen her as a much younger child, before her original baby-fluff on the top of her head thinned away and grew back strong and dark, Apollo would have been as clueless as his father was – hoped his father was, and the lack of any world-ending lightning storms suggested that so far the king of the gods remained ignorant.

If he hadn’t seen the greys threading through her dark hair, salt-and-pepper, almost but not quite the same patterning as Griscelli syndrome, during his last visit as Lester, he would never have known that the girl was a ticking time bomb, a catalyst that could ignite at any moment.

The signal for Zeus to end the current age of humanity.  And Zeus will destroy this race of mortal men also when they come to have grey hair on the temples at their birth, Hesiod had written millennia ago.

The Fates had made an interesting choice, choosing the younger sister of one Perseus Jackson to be the herald, Apollo thought.  The loyalty of Percy to those he clung to – his loved ones, family and closest friends – was not something Apollo would’ve chosen to pit against the fall of humanity at the hands of his father, but he was not one of the Fates himself, and understood their workings only when they chose to reveal them.

Needless to say, they had not chosen to reveal their machinations surrounding Estelle to Apollo.  If anything, she was hiding in plain sight – nothing about her was Concealed from his sight.  If he Looked he could see the spiderweb of her lifetimes, the possibilities glimmering in the sun like gossamer spun silk stretching out towards infinity, the same as any other mortal.  The only reason Apollo knew what he was seeing was incomplete was because he’d seen the grey at her temples as a young baby; without that knowledge, he would never have noticed that not all the threads that should be there were there – and he knew his father did not see the threads the way he did.

If Apollo could not see any of her Fates where his father learned of her existence and chose to act upon it, then his father would not see them, either.

“I suppose you’d better come in,” Percy said, disrupting his musings and taking his active attention away from the young, innocent herald of destruction and onto her older brother instead.  He still didn’t sound happy to see Apollo, and certainly wasn’t eager to invite him into his home, but his irreverence for the gods didn’t seem to quite extend to slamming doors in their faces.  “Mom and Paul will be back soon, they had to go out for a few minutes…”  He trailed off, but Apollo could read the judgement in his face just fine: Did you have to pick when they were gone to arrive?

Somewhat embarrassingly, it hadn’t occurred to Apollo to check that his inviter was home when he’d arrived, although in his defence Paul Blofis had specified the afternoon in question, so surely it was common sense to assume that he would be around.

“That’s quite alright,” he said, stepping over the threshold now that he had the invitation and breezing into the apartment.  It certainly wasn’t the neatest place he had ever set foot in – nor was it the neatest he had ever seen this particular apartment, either.  Apollo’s eyes slid over to Estelle again, who still had the end of Percy’s hoodie string in her mouth and was now gripping at the rest of it with her chubby little fists, too.  Percy seemed to have finally realised what was happening to his clothes and was trying to get her to let go whilst kicking the front door shut with his foot.

Herald of destruction, indeed.  There was no doubt that most of the mess was the fault of young Estelle, given it was mostly a minefield of various age-appropriate toys scattered across the floor in a child-friendly version of caltrops.  At least Estelle had not yet been deemed old enough to be introduced to Lego; scattered Lego bricks were far more lethal than caltrops, even to the soles of godly feet.

As it was, combined with the tipped-over container hanging off the edge of a low table, Apollo got the impression the toys were freshly-scattered, just in time for his arrival.  There was the faintest tint of red in the tips of Percy’s ears as he looked away from Estelle and realised Apollo had noticed the mess.

“Uh, sorry about all that,” he said, before trying harder to reclaim the knotted end of the hoodie string from his sister’s mouth with no success.  It appeared that Estelle’s stubbornness easily rivalled that of her older brother – Apollo felt a flash of sympathy for Sally Jackson.  One headstrong child was already a lot of work.  Two of them…

He ignored the small thought that pointed out that both of them had been born with heavy destinies hanging over their heads, like thunderbolt-shaped guillotines.

“It’s fine.”  Apollo waved his hand dismissively.  “You have not seen Ares’ weapon collection.”  Admittedly that was a little misleading – Ares loved his weapons and would never leave his spears, swords or shields littered around like this.  However, Apollo’s first comparative thought had been caltrops for a reason.

“Can’t say I’m planning on seeing it, either,” Percy scoffed, which was a wise stance for any demigod to take.  Perhaps Ares’ own children might enjoy the experience, but most would find it to be not-so-pleasant.  For Percy, who did not get on with Ares in the slightest, it would no doubt be more frustrating than anything.  “Estelle, no.  Don’t eat that.”

The chubby little bundle that heralded the possible destruction of mankind giggled – not an innocent giggle, no.  The giggle of a mischievous child who knew they were misbehaving, and also knew no-one was going to do anything about it.  From Percy’s sigh and slumping shoulders, he also knew he wasn’t going to be able to do anything about it.

Apollo gestured at the floor.  “Did you want a hand?” he offered, knowing better than to offer to hold the child herself – and not wanting to, not wanting to do anything that might get Zeus’ eyes on her more than they already would be by virtue of being related to Percy Jackson – but more than willing to help a long suffering older brother clean up his younger sibling’s mess.

It was a position he’d found himself in more than once, although his younger half-siblings tended to create messes of far more epic proportions than a single disrupted crate of children’s toys, and attempts to do anything about it were heavily dissuaded on Olympus.  Still, he’d cleaned up a few of Artemis’ messes over the years…

“Sure,” Percy said distractedly, perching on the edge of a couch so that his sister was now in his lap and not supported by his arm, thereby leaving him with twice the hands available to try and get Estelle’s destructive tendencies redirected towards something that wasn’t his clothes.  Apollo sincerely wished him luck with that endeavour.

For his part, with Percy’s permission granted, he knelt down and began to gather up Estelle’s impressive collection of toys, ruining their aspirations of being deadly caltrops by plucking them off the rug one by one and depositing them back in the crate, which he remembered to put upright after the first couple of toys spilled back out again.  Her collection truly betrayed her status as the beloved baby of the family – Apollo didn’t think he’d seen a child so young with quite so many toys, before.

All the better to cause chaos with, he supposed as he dropped a plushie satyr with one of his horns half torn off into the crate.

Millennia of being the centre of attention told Apollo when he was being watched, and the same prickle of awareness had him glancing back at Percy and Estelle, both of whom were staring at him with their identical sea-green eyes.  Estelle had yet to relinquish her hoodie-string snack, but Percy seemed to have forgotten that he was attempting to rescue it from her maw.

Apollo raised an eyebrow.  “Is… there something on my face?” he asked hesitantly, before a thought occurred to him and he craned his head around further.  “Or my back?  I swear, if Artemis put another of those kick me signs…”

“No!” Percy said, a little abruptly, before shaking his head.  “No, there’s nothing on your face.  Or your back..?”  He said the last bit like a question itself, as though it hadn’t occurred to him that some typical sibling shenanigans didn’t also occur to gods, even when the gods in question also happened to be twins.  “I just… didn’t expect you to clean up like that.”

Apollo sat back on his haunches, a well-chewed and still slightly damp hellhound plushie in one hand – oh the irony – and a slightly disturbing squishy skeleton in the other, and centred his attention more directly on Percy.  “Like what?” he asked.

“Like that,” Percy repeated, one hand abandoning the hoodie string rescue mission – not that it had been working on that quest for the past thirty seconds anyway – to gesture broadly at Apollo and the toys still to be cleared away.  “Instead of, I don’t know, just snapping your fingers or something?”

Apollo blinked, and looked back at Soggy-Hellhound and Squishy-Skelly.  He wanted to say that the thought hadn’t occurred to him, and it was true that it had barely occurred to him, a flicker of a thought dismissed before it could fully form, but in reality it boiled down to Estelle, again.  Bursts of godly power in the Jackson-Blofis apartment ran the risk of drawing his father’s eye, and Apollo was reasonably determined to minimise Zeus’ reasons for looking in their direction.

As it was, he was technically causing a risk by being there at all, but if he wasn’t being all godly while he was there, maybe Zeus wouldn’t look too closely.

There were some truths that were best off unspoken, though, and Apollo had no desire to speak into the world the danger that Estelle posed, to herself and humanity at large.  Percy would take it badly, no doubt, and Zeus would not miss such a declaration.

“I suppose some of my Lester habits haven’t quite left yet,” he said instead, which was true in its own way.  “Why, did you want me to?”  It was a dangerous question, because if Percy said yes…

But the son of Poseidon was already shaking his head, as Apollo had suspected he would.  “No, it’s fine,” he said.  “Maybe if she sees that it’s effort to clean up, even for a god, she’ll stop doing it.”  The look he sent his little sister was stern, but it was the sort of sternness that didn’t hold up to scrutiny and Apollo could easily see the bemusement behind the fake frown.

Privately, he thought the herald of destruction lurking behind the angelic face thrived on seeing others suffer through chores such as trying to stop her doing what she wanted, knowing they were doomed to fail.  The concept of hard work no doubt seemed fun to her, still safely in the stage of youth where everything she wanted fell neatly into place and only other people had to do boring and tedious things like cleaning up her messes.  Her tune would only change once it was her responsibility to clean up her own mess.

In Apollo’s experience – and he had a considerable amount of it, given the number of children he had had over the years, even if most of them he had been unable to pick up strewn toys for – most young children Estelle’s age enjoyed watching others clear up their trails of destruction.  He had no doubts that an infant Perseus Jackson had been the exact same way.

Still, he saw no reason to disillusion Percy on the topic.  Deep down, he suspected that Percy already knew the truth and was simply denying it for his own sanity, but in the short term it didn’t matter.  Estelle was still too young to tidy up after herself, and as she had a loving big brother wrapped around her little finger, Apollo knew it would be some time before she truly had to start finding her own feet and responsibilities in the world.

He didn’t envy her that.  If anything, he celebrated it.  Every day that Estelle was able to act like a loved baby sister with a doting family was a day that her existence went unacknowledged by Zeus, and if that could last her entire mortal lifetime, then Apollo would be ecstatic.

Soggy-Hellhound and Squishy-Skelly found themselves deposited in the crate on top of Torn-Horn-Satyr, and Apollo resumed tidying up, listening to the sounds of Percy renewing his attempts at rescuing his hoodie string with little success, and finding a smile creeping across his own lips.

It was, in the end, in the hands of the Fates, he knew, but that wasn’t going to stop Apollo doing everything in his own power to keep Estelle safe, too – even if that took the form of picking her toys up by hand.

[leclercskiesahead]

Spanish Heat

You have been to Sardinia. You have been to Corsica. Mallorca is the same. The ocean is always cold at night.

I wrote this last year when @underthelightsblog kindly let me contribute to their C2 keychain companion booklet. If you ordered her keychains, you might have already read this! I didn't want to spoil it before she could send everyone their booklets, and then it felt a bit weird to post it in winter, so I'm sharing it now as a Valentines' post!

Charles is cold.

He is in Spain. In summer. It was perfectly hot and sunny in the morning, as he had expected, and his skin is already a bright pink that the internet will surely laugh about.

So why is it so cold??

Carlos is never cold. He is always nice and warm whenever Charles bumps into him as they compete in their silly challenge, searing hot when he traces his fingers down Charles’ arms in a way that means something different from teammates, blistering heat when he presses into Charles at night, and warm again when Charles curls up next to him as they drift off to sleep.

Carlos is always talking about his Spanish blood and oh I’m Latino I’m fire and how warm Spain is compared to Modena, where they work.

So Charles thought he would come to Spain and bake in the sun. Instead, he is going to freeze to death at night.

And he doesn’t have a warm Carlos to curl up with. Because Carlos is in Scotland for his friend’s birthday.

Charles shivers as he swipes through his phone. There’s a video of Carlos at his friend’s party, singing along and looking not at all cold in his simple sweater.

Doesn’t it always rain in Scotland? Carlos hates the rain. He loves his warm and sunny home country. But the one time Charles finally booked a trip there for summer break, Carlos had other plans.

It’s unfair.

Charles is cold. He is also impatient.

So he calls.

“Hola.”

“You didn’t tell me Spain is so cold.”

There is a laugh. Charles pouts even though Carlos can’t see how displeased he is. He is cold and freezing, and Carlos is laughing at him.

“Cabrón. You have been to Sardinia. You have been to Corsica. Mallorca is the same. The ocean is always cold at night, no? Did they teach you in school? Or you didn’t pay attention.”

And well, yeah. Charles hadn’t thought about that.

But he still has to make a point.

“I was very good at school,” he huffs. “I always got good marks and paid attention.”

Another chuckle comes through the phone. “Sure, love.”

He can hear Carlos rolling his eyes. So annoying. But the pet name still makes part of his chest feel a bit fuzzy. And now he’s a little warm.

But still not as warm as the real thing.

"When are you coming here," he whines. Not that he doesn't already know the answer —

"You know when, mate, you made me send you my itinerary."

— but maybe if he asks enough times, Carlos will get annoyed and join him sooner.

"Then hurry up, Carlos," he says, his accent thick around the 'r'.

The phone transmits a static noise that Charles figures is Carlos tsk-ing at him. "Always so bossy," is the reply he gets. Then more gently, "Just a few more days. I will be right there, love."

"I want you now." His brain knows that logically, Carlos can't just abandon his own friends like that. But his heart wants what it wants. And if it can't get what it wants, then he'll just be a bit whiny about it.

"You are in Spain, think about me everywhere."

"Yes, yes," Charles nods, as if he hasn't already stalled multiple times in a day because something sets him off daydreaming about his boyfriend. "You have to win the golf now, since you are making me wait."

"Of course," is Carlos' smug reply. "Please don't fall down or hit anyone while you are surfing or doing volleyball or anything else."

Annoying man and his annoying ability to play all sports.

———

They have a yacht day planned, and a good amount of their supplies for this segment are in Charles' room because he has the biggest room because he likes to treat himself during his summer break. Also because he had booked it with some wishful thinking that he could be bringing someone with him.

Anyway, he has to get all their stuff from his room while his friends go to the dock to prepare the yacht.

Joris follows him to his room to help.

“Jesus Christ, why is it so hot here? Have you not burnt enough outside?”

“It’s cold at night."

"It's not that cold."

"It is science, Joris. Did you pay attention in school?"

Joris doesn't answer. He stares at Charles. Sighs. Walks over to one of the bags and pulls out a white lump of clothing. Stuffs it into Charles' hands.

"What is..."

It's one of the Ferrari fashion sweaters. But Charles doesn't remember packing it for this trip (because it is summer and they are going to Spain, where it's supposed to be hot and sunny, why would he need a sweater?). And when he unfolds it, it looks a size bigger than what he wears.

"I found it in your room," Joris says. "Maybe it can keep you warm. Until..."

He waves a hand and makes a knowing face.

Right. Joris goes to nearly all the races now and has seen more of what Charles gets up to off track than he needs to, whether as a friend or personal assistant. That also means he knows Charles, and he knows how Charles is when it comes to things related to a certain other driver who shares his name.

Charles holds the sweater against his chest. He has the decorum not to press his nose to the fabric there and then, but if he focusses, he can still pick up the lingering trace of a familiar cologne.

"Thank you," he whispers.

"Yeah, don't mention it," his friend says, grabbing two large bags. Right, the rest of the group is probably waiting. He stops in the door. "It's not that cold, Charlie. Maybe only your bed."

He ducks out before Charles can smack him. He has the best friends. Really.

———

"Oh, it's windy, no?" Someone says while they all rest from a game on deck.

Charles turns to give Joris A Look. See? He's not the only one who feels cold.

"That's why we can't stay out too long. It's better in the water." And then they are all jumping in again.

Someone starts a swimming race. Bad idea. Because Charles can't not give his all in any sort of competition and because he trains the most out of all his friends — it comes with the job. He's going to win by a large margin.

It's also a bad idea because no one knows which marker they are using as the finish line, so everyone is paddling madly in all directions, and at some point, Charles realises he's ended up swimming away from everybody else. Which could be the large winning margin he wanted, but it's also possible that he's gone the wrong way and ended up further from the finish line. He can imagine everyone laughing at him, and the competitive racer inside him fumes.

Grim and determined, he starts paddling back, only for an air horn to snatch his attention.

A jet ski whizzes by, curving around and slowly circling towards him, like a shark. Or maybe a stingray, because Charles thinks his heart might have stopped. It's hard to see against the bright sun and with some saltwater in his eyes, but the figure on the jet ski is recognisable to Charles anyway.

Carlos rides up next to him with his perfect windswept hair and a sly smile.

"Hola," is all he says.

Charles is already grabbing his outstretched hand.

"Mate! You are early!"

"I told you I was coming today."

"You didn't say what time," Charles argues. "You sounded like —"

He tries to haul himself up the ski and nearly slips because he forgot his body is still dripping seawater.

"Ay, be careful," Carlos nags. Not that Charles really listens because he has two large, hot, searing hands on his waist as Carlos wrangles him onto the ski. A full view of a bare shoulder under a life vest.

Spain is very hot indeed.

"Good," Carlos mutters when Charles is finally settled on the ski. "How can I surprise you if I tell you exactly what time I'm arriving?"

Charles can't think of an argument. The breeze from earlier has returned, and he can feel goosebumps breaking out on his still-wet skin.

He presses into Carlos. The life vest is still in the way, but leaves enough exposed for Charles to feel the heat he has been craving this past week and a half.

He is wet and cold and feels Carlos' muscles jump at the initial contact.

"Ay, mate," he complains, but shifts to accommodate Charles anyway.

That's how Joris finds them later, tucked together on a deck chair as Carlos enjoys a beer and Charles enjoys Carlos' body heat.

———

"Mate, you are using the heater?" Carlos says when they retire to Charles' room — their room — for the night. He moves to turn it down with one hand while towelling his hair off with the other, freshly showered. Charles stares at the perfect dark locks sticking in all the right directions.

Tonight had not felt as chilly as the previous nights, but Charles had still turned the dial up out of habit when they had returned earlier.

"Is that mine? Ay, no wonder I couldn't find it."

Ah, yes, the sweater that he had stolen from Carlos at a race that Joris brought here for him. Laying across his lap.

"I was cold," is all he manages to say.

Carlos has a stupid grin on his face. Charles wants to kiss him.

So he does.

Charles is no longer cold.

[milaisreading]

Can you please add the cross dresser a chapter where the reader suddenly goes missing but is actually excused by SAE and went on a day vacation??? Sorry my English is kinda bad, but please make this pleaseeeee

🩷🌱: Hope u find this ok! I have been sick the past few days, so I hope this all makes sense. I wrote it while fighting sleep and fever😅 thanks for the request and reading 🫶🏻

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. In the story the boys will be using he/him when addressing Yn. Requests for this series are open. Also I made up the names of Barou's sisters!

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

Rin woke up finding the room he shared with #2, (Y/n), oddly silent. Blinked the sleep away and started rubbing his eyes, frowning in the process.

'Where is he? Usually he is the first one awake and in the bathroom... Is it possible that (Y/n) of all people overslept?' Rin thought as he looked across the room, where her bed was. Still not noticing an issue, Rin got up and walked over to where the captain's bed was.

"Get up, idiot. We will have to train soon-" Rin stopped himself as he laid his hand down, expecting to grab (Y/n)'s shoulder, but instead grabbed the mattress.

"Huh?" Rin raised an eyebrow and removed the covers, only to find the bed completely empty!

"What the?! Where did he go?!" The younger Itoshi looked at the digital clock, thinking that he was the one who overslept.

'It's not even 7 yet... and besides, he would wake me up if I was late.' Rin thought, sitting down om the bed, trying to think where (Y/n) could be.

'Hmmm...' He thought for a moment, his eyes slowly narrowing as he remembered a certain bi-colored boy, who would always try to drag (Y/n) away. That would happen when either Rin and her were relaxing or training together. Which was already rare, since (Y/n) liked practicing with Karasu, Barou, and Isagi more.

'All of them can't even come close to me! But, I will figure that issue another day. For now, I need to rescue (Y/n) from Bachira.'

"Isagiii! Hurry up, we need to go and catch (Y/n) before breakfast!"

"Bachira!! Stop yelling!" Chigiri barked back as Isagi shook his head.

"Can you both keep it down... Barou looks like he is about to kill us." The two looked at the boy Isagi was pointing at, only to really find a scowl on his face.

"What is it with the face, king?" Chigiri teased, causing Isagi to groan when Barou's glare deepened.

"You are all too loud. I still don't see how (Y/n) can hang around you. Aside from Isagi, you guys act like pigs in a barn."

Bachira rolled his eyes and poked his tongue out.

"Because we are fun to be around and we treat (Y/n) with respect~" The bi-colored boy teased.

"Not to mention, I am cuter." Chigiri smirked, and Isagi thanked the Heavens as the door opened, stopping Barou from shouting.

"Ok, you 4, where is (Y/n)? Nagi and I want to eat breakfast with him." Reo announced, confusing the group as Rin and Nagi walked in right after.

"What?" Barou raised an eyebrow, getting out of his bed.

"Hand him over. We know that Bachira is the one who kidnaps him at any time of the day." Nagi yawned, then sent the said boy a glare.

"Hey! It's not my fault he is rather around me than you two bores."

"Say that again and I will kick you all the way to Spain." Reo moved closer, but got stopped by Isagi.

"Get it over with, dumbasses. Where is (Y/n)? He needs to go and eat." Rin grumbled, trying to look for her.

"What are you talking about, Underlashes? We haven't seen him since dinner." Barou raised an eyebrow.

"We know he is here. Hand him over." Nagi grumbled.

"(Y/n) isn't here. We really did not see him."

"Isagi is right. We just woke up, too." Chigiri sighed as Barou was starting to get a headache.

Silence fell among the boys, as the three intruders observed the room a little better. And the 4 were right. (Y/n) really wasn't there.

"So... he really isn't here." Reo mumbled.

"Glad you decided to use your ears for once." Barou rolled his eyes.

"Maybe he went to eat breakfast earlier?" Isagi suggested, causing the group to look at him.

"Maybe! Let's go look!" Bachira cheered as he ran out the room, followed by Reo and Chigiri.

"(Y/n) and I can share some food."

"Not if we do it first." Reo and Chigiri argued as the rest followed wordlessly after them.

'This is weird... she never leaves like that.' Barou thought.

'Now that I think of it, he did act off last night.' Rin thought, remembering the nervous expression on the captain's face.

'Where did he go? I just want to sleep on him.' Nagi pouted.

"Hmm... maybe we should ask Ego-san..." Isagi muttered to himself.

Meanwhile...

"So...how is going to eat breakfast in a restaurant supposed to help me?" (Y/n) wondered as she glanced at Sae.

"As I said, I will tell you everything once we are there and seated." Sae said nonchalantly.

"Besides, I heard that this place serves great Katsu. The chicken one is loved a lot."

This got (Y/n)'s attention on Sae more.

"Really?! I love Katsu! If that's the case, I will wait till we are there." She said excitedly, earning a sigh of relief from Sae.

'Paying money to get some of that information on him seems to be worth it.'

"I still don't understand why you didn't want me to tell Rin where I will be. I am sure he would have liked meeting you again." (Y/n) said, noticing the way Sae tensed up at her words.

"No. No. That won't be needed." Sae said seriously, shaking his head a few times.

"Rin and I are still... not the best with each other. To put it like that."

"Ah..." The girl nodded her head, deciding not speak much on it.

'Siblings are so weird...'

'Good thing he is easily convinced. I still wonder how Shidou and Rin are scared of him.' Sae wondered, discreetly staring at (Y/n)'s face.

"(Y/n), your favorite teammate is here!"

Karasu, Yukimiya, Otoya, and Hiori flinched at Bachira's loudness and looked at the door as the group slowly started walking in

"Stop yelling, Bachira. It's still pretty early." Hiori frowned, trying to ignore the comment he made.

"Besides, his favorite teammate is me~" Otoya chimed in, earning an eyeroll from Yukimiya.

"You will give our poor captain white hair before he turns 20. I on the other hand am very calm and-"

"Nah, all of you lose against me." The three glared at Karasu as Isagi walked to the table, followed by Nagi and Reo.

"Hey, did you guys see (Y/n)? We can't find him anywhere?" The four looked between each other and then at the group again.

"No. We didn't see him since dinner. Is he not your roommate, Rin?" Otoya questioned the younger Itoshi.

"He wasn't in his bed this morning." The boy said back. Now that alarmed the 4. They came to the dining hall to greet the girl and talk to her before practice started, but this wasn't something they expected.

"He wasn't there?" Yukimiya blinked a few times.

"No. And we have been looking for him the whole time." Bachira said, a little desperate to find the captain now.

"That's odd... (Y/n) isn't the type to just up and leave, especially before breakfast..." Karasu frowned, getting up from his seat.

"Maybe he is in the gym? Or went to practice earlier? I know that Tokimitsu, Gagamaru, Niko, Aryu, and Kurona went to practice a little." Hiori added in.

"And Kunigami went to the gym... maybe he can help us in looking for him." Otoya chimed in as Chigiri nodded his head.

"Good idea."

"Let's go and look for muscle head then." Barou said, trying to mask his own worry with boredom.

'Where are you now, idiot?'

"Bless you." Sae said as (Y/n) sneezed, then returned his attention to his food.

"Thanks... I hope I don't get sick." (Y/n) sniffed a little and went back to earing her food, earning a few glances from Sae.

"I assume you are aware that both you and your friend, Isagi, have caught my attention back during the game."

(Y/n) simply nodded while still munching on her food.

"Yeah, you did make it obvious. What about it?"

"I will be straight forward with you, I want you two to join my club after Blue lock is over." (Y/n) stopped in her movements and blinked at Sae a few times.

'Huh?! I joined Blue lock to escape my family! Not join some team in Spain!!' She panicked on the inside, but tried to keep her cool.

"Y-you do? Is that why you invited me out today?" (Y/n) raised her eyebrow.

"Not entirely. I would like to introduce you to a future Royale can offer you, sure, but it's not the only reason I invited you over."

"Huh?"

Sae kept his eye-contact with her, causing (Y/n) to grow even more nervous. There was just a look in Sae's eyes that made her nerves go all over the place.

'Did he figure me out?! Oh no... But, if he knew I was a girl, he wouldn't be stupid enough to talk about me joining a men's team.' She looked away from Sae and took a sip of her water.

"You are... interesting, I guess. I can't pin point it, bit there is something off about you."

(Y/n) frantically looked back at Sae, who had moved a little closer to her face.

"And I will figure out what it is."

Blushing from the closeness, (Y/n) pushed Sae gently away and nervously laughed.

"You are very funny... but there is nothing off about me... I am just a plain, normal football player."

"We will see."

Sae said, then went back to eating his food and (Y/n) turned her attention to hers.

'But... why didn't he invite Isagi as well? This is so weird...'

"You can't find him?! But where did he go?! Maybe he got lost in this building?! We should call Ego-san!" Tokimitsu said in a panic as Aryu and Gagamaru tried to calm him down. Isagi sweat dropped as he finished explaining how nobody could find (Y/n) anywhere.

"How would he get lost? Sure, the building is big, but not big enough to get lost." Niko tried to rationalize.

"And there is always staff who can help him out. Tokimitsu, I am sure he is fine, so please calm down." Kunigami added in.

"But it is weird that we can't find him. He isn't reckless..." Otoya said, sitting down on the ground, Hiori and Chigiri joining him.

"I dunno. Did anyone say anything mean to him last night? Or something that would have upset him?" Aryu interjected, earning questioning looks from the rest.

"I don't think so? Everything was normal last night. We were all just joking and training after all." Gagamaru reminded the boy.

"Hmm, true. I thought maybe he was upset and just took a walk this morning."

"Even if he was upset, he wouldn't miss out on breakfast." Reo argued, earning nods from Nagi and Barou.

"Reo has a point. And (Y/n) is the type who will just tell you if you messed up or not." Barou said.

"Well... now we know as much as we did an hour ago." Isagi mattered. There was a short silence before Kurona finally spoke up.

"You... you guys don't think he might have left..."

"What do you mean?" Bachira looked over at the nervous boy.

"Left? Why would he leave?" Hiori said, looking in worry around the room.

"Well, he did seem tired the past few weeks, especially when he has to keep some of the players at bay." Kurona spoke, sending Rin, Barou, and Nagi a few short glances, then spoke up again.

"Also, he did confess that the captain role was forced at him... Maybe he just grew tired and left."

"Th-that's impossible, Kurona!" Otoya laughed nervously as Chigiri joined in.

"Yeah! (Y/n) might have been tired, but he would never leave without telling us!"

"And Ego-san would have called us or appointed a new captain in that case!" Reo chimed in, anxiety radiating off of him. Nagi grew restless at the idea too, not liking that it did sound valid.

"That's moronic. (Y/n) is a reliable person, he wouldn't leave us." Kunigami joined.

Bachira smiled nervously, nudging a nervous Niko.

"Haha Kurona is so funny, right? (Y/n) wouldn't leave me... he wouldn't leave us. Right, Niko?"

"Uh..." Niko gulped as he looked at Bachira, who was basically begging him to agree.

"Damn it... he can't be gone. He promised he would stay here till I beat him for the 2nd spot..." Karasu bit on his nail. Yukimiya, for the first time in a while, felt really helpless. (Y/n) was so welcoming and supporting to him, a real captain, a friend... he can't be gone! He can't be gone from his life.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck... Please don't be gone!' Yukimiya poked his cheeks a few times.

"Leave? But he can't just leave... he is the only one who binds the team together." Gagamaru argued, not paying attention to the nervous Tokimitsu.

"Leave?! But... but he promised he would stay and comfort me when I need it... (Y/n) wouldn't break his promise like that!" Tokimitsu argued as Aryu stayed quiet. He was way too horrified at the idea of (Y/n) gone.

'He... he isn't... he is here somewhere! He just took a walk! That's all!' Aryu thought.

"Isagi... (Y/n) is still here. He didn't leave, right?" Hiori wondered in worry. He didn't want (Y/n) gone!

'He is the only person who understood me.'

"I... I really don't know." Isagi gulped, anxiety rising in his body as well.

'She didn't go. She told me she didn't want to go home. After all, she would rather be a captain to us than be home with those people. She told me so.'

Rin clenched his fists, not wanting to admit he was worried by that idea.

'That's stupid, he is still here. He didn't leave... I know that!'

'Stupid idiot! Why would she leave?!' Barou was meanwhile fighting both worry and anger, when suddenly a thought hit both him and Isagi.

'What will her parents do now?' They gulped.

"You... you like Sanrio characters?" Sae raised an eyebrow as he saw (Y/n) pick up a pink, sheep plushie from that section. The girl blushed and sheepishly nodded her head.

"A little... I have some fond memories with this show. I also like Piano as a character."

Sae said nothing as (Y/n)'s face turned redder and smile grew bigger.

"Childish, I know."

Sae blinked at her a few times, then looked away, face red.

"It's... it's cool. The sheep looks cool." Sae said, daring a glance at (Y/n). The girl looked a little shocked, but got over it soon.

"Thanks! And, thank you for inviting me out today. I would have hardly gotten a day off otherwise."

Trying to calm the redness down, Sae looked over at (Y/n), playing it off cool.

"Sure."

A whole day of practice had passed... and it's easy to say that it was anything but a good day. None of the boys could concentrate on playing. And how could they? After all, their captain is nowhere to be found. She is possibly gone forever. The team barely got anything done, and all of them just wanted to be over with the day. They couldn't even stomach any food.

"Why are you all following me?"

"We want to have some of (Y/n)'s stuff. And with that said, I am getting the pillow as my cuddle buddy." Bachira answered Rin's question.

"Bachira, you weirdo! You have to share with me." Chigiri chimed in, earning weirded out looks from the team.

"Shouldn't you all go eat dinner?" Rin wondered, earning sobs from Aryu, Tokimitsu, and Otoya.

"(Y/n) loved dinner, too!"

Karasu rolled his eyes at their dramatic behavior.

"You all are annoying." Rin sighed and opened the door to his room, expecting to find it empty.

"Ah, Rin. I was wondering where you are. It's pretty late- Why is the rest of the team here?" Rin, along with the rest of the team froze as they saw (Y/n), dressed in her pajamas, looking in confusion at them.

"(Y/n).... you-you didn't leave?" Nagi blurted out.

"Leave? I just had a day of today...and had to meet someone." (Y/n) explained.

"Are you all ok? You look like you saw a ghost-"

"Wait! So... so you are still our captain and teammate?!" Otoya yelled, clearly a wreck from what had happened.

"Yes? Why wouldn't I be-"

"I am so happy to hear that!!"

"You had me worried!"

"I was never happier to be wrong!"

"Thank God!"

(Y/n) yelled in surprise as Bachira, Niko, Kurona, and Hiori tackled her into a hug. Reo, Nagi, Isagi, and Karasu ran right after them, just as revealed as the rest.

"Get off of him, guys." Kunigami said, walking over to help (Y/n). Chigiri joining soon in to free (Y/n) from Bachira's grip.

"Donkey loser, you have no idea what sort of shit you put me through today." Barou scolded the boy, but he was very released to find his friend back where she should be.

Gagamaru, Tokimitsu, Aryu, Otoya, and Yukimiya walked over too, bombarding the player with many questions.

"Please, one at a time! What did you say, Gagamaru?" (Y/n) looked around nervously.

Rin silently approached them, sitting down on his bed, and let out a sigh he didn't know he was keeping in.

'Thank God...'

[littlestarbigsky]

finally finished my stats work for the week (ily chatgpt) soooo fic time :))

listen i reallllly love the idea of at least some of the greasers having good parents sooo two-bit and his sister get a good mom ;) also! i realize two-bit’s sister doesn’t canonically have a name but i saw someone call her molly like.. once.. so i’ve just been running with that lol

i wrote half of this when i wanted to write angst and then finished it when i was in a better mood so that’s what that’s about lol

anyways here’s the matthews family helping darry when pony gets sick :)

edit: i wrote a part one for this fic like three months later lol

it was almost midnight when the sound of someone pounding on the front door jerked two-bit awake from where he had been dozing off watching cartoons. he shifted on the couch to look out the window, fully expecting to see steve or johnny needing a place to crash, hell, he wouldn’t have been shocked if a cop was standing outside the door because some socs had blamed some vandalism on him, wouldn’t be the first time. the last thing he was expecting to see was…

darry?

truth be told, it had been a while since he’d really seen darry. he saw pony at school most days, and he would swing by the dx to visit soda when he could, but since their parents died, darry had been busting his ass at all hours of the day to make ends meet, which didn’t leave much time for him to hang around with the rest of their crew.

you’d think darry was trying to break down their door with how hard he was pounding it. two-bit lazily pushed himself off the couch and hurried over to the door.

darry looked a real mess when two-bit opened the door, violet shadows stamped beneath his eyes, his hair sticking out in all directions, and he was in need of a shave and a shower.

“darry, what-”

“i’m sorry, i know i got no business comin’ here this time of night, but i-” he broke off, his breath coming in short, panicked, gasps.

“hey, you don’t gotta apologize,” two-bit grabbed his arm and ushered him into the house, out of the cool, early-spring, air. “what’s the matter? what’s got ya all worked up?”

“i need-” darry cut himself off and immediately started pacing the living room floor. “your mom… is she here? i need to talk to her…”

it was a mark of how badly darry was scaring two-bit that he didn’t crack a joke, just asked again, “darry, what’s going on?”

“it’s pony… he- he’s got a fever. i thought maybe he just needed a day to rest and get better but soda told me he’s been getting worse all day…” darry had to take a moment to gasp in another breath before continuing. “i- i don’t know what medicine to give him… he was real hot when i left, he always gets so bad when he’s sick… none of us have gotten sick since-”

“i know,” darry didn’t finish, but two-bit didn’t need him to, he knew he was about to say that none of them had gotten sick since their parents had died. he felt a lump swelling in his throat as he watched darry pace and panic across the living room floor.

“hey, dar,” he started gently. “how about you have a seat. i think mama’s still awake, i’ll go get her.”

darry nodded, squeezing his eyes shut, but he didn’t sit down, he just stood still where he was.

when two-bit came back with his mother a few minutes later, it was like watching a superhero go to work. he leaned against the doorframe that led to the hallway with the bedrooms, watching his mother envelop darry in her arms and gently guide him over to the couch. she coached him through a few deep breaths to calm him down a bit before starting to ask him what was wrong with ponyboy, how long he had been sick, what he’d been eating, if he’d been sleeping much. darry answered all of her questions quickly and succinctly, rattling off symptoms with painstaking ease.

a door creaked open behind two-bit, and he turned around to see his 12 year-old kid sister standing in her doorway. molly’s pajama shirt and shorts didn’t match, her hair was all messy from sleep, and her gray eyes seemed huge in the dim light shining in from the living room. he didn’t know what made him do it, maybe he was realizing how glad he was that he didn’t have to worry over molly like this, but without a word, he pulled her into his side.

“haven’t seen darry in forever,” molly said sleepily, her words almost slurring together.

“me neither, kiddo,” he answered, running a hand up and down molly’s arm. “he’s got a lot more to worry about now.”

“what’s he doin here then? shouldn’t he be at home sleeping?”

he had to laugh at the innocence of the question, of course darry should have been at home sleeping, he shouldn’t have to be staying up all night with a sick ponyboy, his parents should be doing that. he should be in college. he should be bringing home stories about parties and inviting his family to his football games, not losing sleep over what medicine he should be giving his little brother.

“ponyboy’s not feeling so hot,” two-bit finally answered. “darry just isn’t used to doing it all by himself.”

“so he’s askin mama?”

“yeah, she’s pretty good at gettin us better when we’re feeling lousy, right?”

“i guess so,” molly shrugged, taking a step forward, going into the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of water.

two-bit tuned back into what his mother was saying to darry.

“it doesn’t sound like anything too serious, probably just the flu. with any luck, he may already be through the worst of it,” she was saying to him, one of her hands rubbing his shoulder comfortingly.

“okay…” darry’s voice was thick with unshed tears, the tension between him and the dam breaking almost palpable. “what- what should i give him to help?”

“maybe some aspirin for the pain-”

“no,” darry practically shouted, so fast he knew he had sounded rude. “sorry, i caught pony takin’ too many aspirins last week, i don’t wanna be givin him that stuff…”

“that’s okay, honey,” she answered, ever patient. “how about some tylenol? that will help with the fever and won’t have aspirin in it. for his stomach, pepto bismol is probably best. and if he starts getting those bodyaches again, the tylenol should help but ibuprofen works, too, it’s an anti-inflammatory. do you guys have all that?”

“i-” darry looked at her with an expression that was so helpless and exhausted and scared. he had no idea if that had any of that stuff, let alone which did what and how much he should be giving his brother. the thought alone was so overwhelming. he felt his eyes glass over just thinking of having to wake pony up to persuade him to take the cocktail of medicine.

she reached up and ran a hand through his hair and over his cheek, “it’s okay, sweetheart, you can borrow what we’ve got. use as much as you need, you can give it back when pony’s feeling better.”

darry took a second before he opened his mouth to stutter out, “h-how much…”

“i’ll write it all down for you,” she answered, patting him on the knee as she stood up and headed towards the bathroxcom. darry’s head fell into his hands, breathing deeply and clearly doing everything he could to keep it together.

he only looked up when molly came over from the kitchen and nudged his shoulder, “shouldn’t you be in bed, little lady?”

molly just shrugged, sitting down on the floor in front of the couch, “kinda hard when you’re bangin’ on the door so loud.”

darry chuckled wetly, “sorry about that, kiddo, i’ll just break in through two-bit’s window next time.”

molly’s eyes widened, “don’t do that! he’ll scream like a little girl!”

darry laughed again. two-bit leaned his head against the threshold and crossed his arms across his chest, watching his sister break down darry’s carefully structured walls without even trying.

“i brought you this,” she held up something in a white wrapper. “it’s a popsicle, mama always tells us that there’s no trouble out there that a popsicle can’t help. might not fix it, but it sure can’t hurt.”

“thanks, molly, but i don’t think it’s a good idea,” darry sighed. “pony’s stomach is bothering him, i don’t wanna make it worse.”

“it’s not for ponyboy, it’s for you,” she crinkled the paper and held it closer to him to grab. “it’s strawberryyyyyy.”

darry let out a laugh, a true laugh, and took the popsicle from molly. two-bit pushed himself off the doorframe and grabbed two more popsicles from the freezer before handing one to molly and sitting down next to her on the floor.

their mother came back from the bathroom with the medicine in a bag for darry, stopping dead when she saw molly with him.

“what do you think you’re doing, little miss?” she asked, and molly whipped around. “it’s almost midnight what are you doing with a popsicle?”

molly pressed her red stained lips together and pointed at two-bit, “he gave it to me.”

two-bit pointed at molly, “she gave one to darry.”

their mother’s eyes jumped up to darry on the couch, his half finished popsicle still in his mouth. he shrugged and pulled it out of his mouth, pushing himself off the couch, “is that the medicine?”

“yep, this should be everything,” she smiled, her attention fully back on darry. “i wrote down all of the dosages and what should help with what, but if you need anything else, i wrote down our phone number.”

darry grinned sheepishly, “i know your phone number…”

“well then, you should have no trouble letting us know if things get worse,” she handed him the medicine and grabbed his face, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “because you are too damn young to have to do all this by yourself. pride has no place where help is being offered, darry.”

darry leaned into the touch. god, when was the last time someone had given the poor kid a hug?

“let us know when the kid’s doing better, steve and i will bring over some snacks,” two-bit said, standing up from the floor, ruffling molly’s hair as he got up.

darry nodded wordlessly and took the bag of medicine. he walked over to the door, looking like he was about to leave before he turned around and looked right at molly, who was leaning up against two-bit’s legs.

“you were right, kid.”

molly tilted her head, but darry only smiled and held up what was left of his popsicle.

“might not fix it, but it sure can’t hurt.”

[flowerandblood]

The sweetest fruit (5)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Valyrian! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, sexual tension ]

[description: (Anon Request) Aemond is to meet his future wife from Essos, in whose veins runs the blood of Old Valyria. They’ve been engaged since they were kids, but he’s in no hurry to get married and he’s not happy about her arrival. His future wife, however, turns out to be someone completely different than he expected. Smut, angst and a lot of sexual tension.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Aemond woke up to the chirping of birds outside the window. He could feel the sun entering the room directly into his face. He grunted in dissatisfaction, propping himself up on one elbow. He heard a silent protest, the hand of his newly wedded wife tightened on his back, snuggling against his chest. Only now did he feel, looking at her, that he was still deep inside her. He felt goosebumps on his face.

After what she told him he came inside her twice more that night. He didn't pull out of her, because they both didn't want to. That night they became one flesh. He was shocked how just a few words exchanged between them made complete strangers feel so close and passionate.

After telling his wife before their wedding to both give up their lovers, he wrote Alys a letter. He didn't know how to put his feelings into words.

He knew she deserved him to say it to her face, but he was afraid that she would try to get him to bed by saying it was their last time, making him feel guilty. If his wife knew he had a mistress and was able to anticipate his movements, she would have found out about this too, and their marriage would have ended before it even began.

He wrote her in a letter that he wanted to give his marriage a chance. That he asks her to respect that. That she can always count on his undying friendship in times of need. That she will never miss anything. That she wouldn't try to come to King's Landing and visit him. That it was his decision, not his wife's. That he wants it.

He gave the letter to his servant, feeling that he had deceived her and would surely cause her great pain. He thought she deserved honesty at least. Better that than if she had waited for him unconsciously, or worse, arrived in King's Landing.

He was in a foul mood and didn't feel like talking to anyone. He thought that if his future wife came to him again at night and tried to get into his bed, he would dismiss her. But she didn't.

She hasn't touched him since then. He had her watched by his servants, waiting for her to stumble, for her to show him that it wasn't worth his trouble and sacrifice after all.

But nothing happened. Their wedding day was approaching, and he noticed a change in her. She didn't flirt with men anymore, didn't let them get any closer than was appropriate. He knew that she spent every night alone in her chamber and did not come out.

He thought then that maybe she really took his words seriously. Perhaps, she also wanted to see if they would succeed. The thought made him feel warmer about her.

When she came to him with the pineapple, she surprised and embarrassed him. He understood then that she was really planning their wedding night and wanted to give him pleasure. He felt hot just thinking about it. He wondered if she might just be disappointed in him in the end.

On the day of their wedding he was dying of nerves. He hated to be in the crowd, to be in the spotlight. He knew that the lords on the side called him a cripple, and though they would never dare say it to his face, he knew they thought that he didn't deserve such a woman. Only when he saw her, with no trace of fear or hesitation on her face, did he calm down.

During the great feast, he began to feel more and more lust. She sat next to him, beautiful and blooming, with flowers pinned in her hair, in a wonderful dress through which he could see the outline of her body which was supposed to be only his tonight.

He kept reminding himself that she was now his wife. That he could fuck her for the rest of his life, drink the sweet juices from her mouth and between her thighs. He felt like he was going to explode.

However, he hadn't even expected in his dreams what he experienced in bed with her. He had never been so close to someone before. Everything she did seemed so right, so good. Every gesture of her body, touch of her hand was passionate, tender and caring.

His scarred face did not put her off, he had the impression that she was not paying any attention to her at all. He felt like a normal man around her. The one she wanted and desired, the one she wanted to touch and caress. The thought of it made him feel hot in his heart.

He leaned over her and kissed her hair tenderly, sliding out of her, wanting to change position. He heard her little moan of displeasure, her eyes still closed, she snuggled into him, helpless.

"Shh, my sweetest fruit." He whispered tenderly, kissing her again, this time on the forehead. He slid lower, escaping the sun with his face, and took refuge between her breasts, burying his face there, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

He smiled almost imperceptibly as he felt her wrap around him like a vine, slipping her hand into his hair, hugging him to herself with a purr of contentment. They slept like that for a while longer, enjoying the pleasant, fresh smell of the morning. They got up reluctantly only when the servants woke them up saying that they would serve them breakfast.

They decided to eat breakfast in bed. They had no strength to get up and did not want to get dressed. His wife looked at him curiously as she ate a piece of her bread.

"What are you doing today, my husband? Will you be leaving to train with Ser Criston soon?" She asked lightly, knowing that their morning trainings were his daily routine with which he started his day. He swallowed the piece he was chewing and looked at her.

"No. I have decided that the day after our wedding I will give up all activities. I am at your disposal." He said calmly as he continued eating. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her shift in place, a wide, happy smile on her face. In a way, the sight touched him.

"I'm really glad." She spoke softly, and he knew she wasn't lying.

After she ate, she stood up, still completely naked, some of the flowers still clinging to her hair. She sat down in front of her dressing table, pulling out leaves and flowers, letting her hair down on her own. There was something mythological about this sight. She reminded him of a goddess that he had read about in books, often depicted as a naked woman bathing or combing her hair.

He thought that her lightness and openness, lack of embarrassment, made him feel less self-conscious. In part she was so phenomenally beautiful in his eyes because she felt so herself. Her joyful self-confidence gave her charm and sensuality. No man could ask for a better wife, he thought.

He finally got up, walking slowly towards her, grabbing her gently by the nape of the neck. She shivered pleasantly at his touch and let him tilt her head. He looked down at her for a moment. Her eyes shone, her face was gentle and calm. He felt his member throb again at the sight. She smiled seeing it. Her hand brushed his thigh, making him shiver.

"Do you want me to satisfy you, my husband, before you return to your chamber?" She asked sweetly.

He wondered how she could look so innocent asking him such things. His manhood automatically responded to her words. He gasped in pleasure,as she leaned over him, shoving him between her lips as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

After he cum inside her mouth, they kissed and parted, wanting to freshen up and get dressed. He told her that she could decide how she wanted to spend the day with him. She was delighted with this opportunity. He knew how she loved to plan, and he was curious to see what she would come up with.

As he entered his chamber, his servant approached him, extending his hand to him with a small, sealed envelope. He knew that it was a message from Alys. He thought for a moment whether to read it. He figured he should, especially if she was planning to do something he might not like. He opened the letter. There were only two sentences written on the paper.

"I saw it in my dream. I will always wait for you."

He felt pain in his chest. He thought that even if he didn't love her, he clearly cared about her in some way. However, he felt that in the situation he found himself he had to give his wife all or nothing. He sighed heavily, tore up the paper and threw it into the fire. He decided he wanted to give her everything.

***

Namyss combed her Lady's freshly washed hair, while her other servants sat on the floor beside her. They asked her lots of questions, curious, and she answered them with amusement.

"Is he a good lover?" One of the girls asked, the rest of them giggled softly, waiting for her to answer. Lady Vhassar smiled to herself as she looked ahead.

"Yes. Indeed, he has dragonfire within him." She said softly.

She experienced fulfillment with him two times more that night, the last one practically in the morning, when it was already dawn. She came so hard that she lost touch with reality. She didn't know if her husband was really taking her from behind, or she was just dreaming.

"He didn't slide out of me all night." She added finally, and the girls looked at each other, blushing, obviously happy that their Lady was so pleased with her newly wedded husband.

"Will you spend the day with him, my Lady?" Namyss asked, braiding the last locks of her hair back.

"Yes."

Lady Vhassar was waiting for her husband outside his chamber, which was now right next to hers. People who walked the halls congratulated her on getting married. They watched her curiously, as if to decide from her appearance alone whether Prince Aemond was also a bed crippled. She smiled widely, giving them no cause for any unfavorable gossip.

Her heart beated faster as the door opened and he stood before her in surprise. She was delighted to see his eye soften at the sight of her. After her last night with him and their "first time", something changed between them. Some invisible barrier that separated them from each other, disappeared.

She thought she felt something not only between her thighs, but also in her heart. She knew he felt the same. She felt it in his touch, saw it in his eye, heard it in his voice.

No one had ever been as tender to her in bed as he was. He treated her body with reverence and delicacy, he cared for her comfort and well-being. She bowed before him.

"My husband." She said softly and looked at him. She saw that he was looking at her intensely, obviously wanting to say something.

"You don't have to bow to me anymore." He said calmly.

She looked at him surprised and smiled widely. He touched her cheek at the sight, apparently unable to keep his hands to himself after what had happened between them. She placed her hand over his, pressing her cheek against it. He swallowed hard as he looked at it.

"How shall we spend the day, my wife?" He asked softly and quietly, she thought that his voice was no longer cold. She smiled widely at his question.

"I want to read a book with you lying in the garden." She said finally. He looked at her, not hiding his surprise. It wasn't what he expected.

"Is this what you want?" He asked, wanting to make sure he understood, and she nodded.

She knew what he liked to do, and she wasn't going to tire him out with activities that didn't interest him or bore him. She herself loved to read and spent the evenings incessantly in the great library at Volantis. She asked her husband to show her the library in the Red Keep. She knew that they had an excellent, rich harvest there.

The sight of the room surprised her. The library was gigantic. She must have asked him for help finding the departments that she was interested in. She decided to choose a book about the history of the North and Winterfell, because these areas of Westeros she knew least about. She had never seen winter or snow in her life.

Her husband chose a book written by one of the famous philosophers whom she liked very much too. They talked about him and his theses as they walked through the cloisters towards the garden, ignoring the curious looks of people around them. She thought with delight that her husband was a very well-educated man also in history and poetry. She hadn't expected that from him.

She led him to a place where she asked her servants to have a little picnic for them. They lay down on the cloth under the tree. Aemond sat down, leaning against the trunk, opening the book. His wife lay down on her stomach beside him, her head against his shoulders, setting the book on the grass in front of her, flipping through it curiously.

They sat in silence, the chirping of birds and the pleasant rustle of leaves spread around them. Lady Vhassar was very drawn in. She looked curiously through the illustrations and read about the kings in the North that she didn't even know about, occasionally eating a green grape from the dish beside her. She flinched as she felt her husband's hand on her back, running up and down her body.

"I love it when you do this." She hummed softly, delighted. Every movement of his fingers sent a pleasant shiver through her. She loved that gentle, stubel touch.

"Mmm." He only grunted in satisfaction, and she heard him turn the page with his free hand.

They didn't bother each other, focusing on what they were reading. After half an hour she changed position, sore, laying her head on his thigh, holding her book in front of her in her hands. His hand automatically started stroking her hair.

She thought it was wonderful, that what he couldn't put into words, he seemed to want to put into touch. She pursed her lips, wondering if she should ask him what had been on her mind since she'd arrived in Westeros. She figured there couldn't be a better opportunity.

"My husband?" She asked uncertainly. She heard him grunt, obviously meaning he was listening to her.

"I'd like to see King's Landing. Tonight." She said calmly. She heard him stop reading and look at her in surprise.

"What do you mean?" He asked, obviously not fully understanding what she expected of him. She propped herself up on her elbows, looking at him.

"I would like to see how this city lives at night. Go for a walk, look at the crowded streets." She said smiling slightly. She saw him frown at her words.

"I am responsible for your safety." He said coldly.

"That's why I want you to accompany me. We could disguise ourselves so no one would recognize us. In Volantis, I was often mistaken for a boy when I ran away with my brother from home." She laughed a little, but she could see that his expression was not convinced. She leaned in, burying her face in his hand.

"Please, husband. I want it so badly. Don't you want to share secrets with me?" She asked sweetly, looking at him from under her long, black eyelashes. She saw his lips tighten as he swallowed hard. He looked away, thinking hard.

"Will you obey and stay close to me?" He asked, without looking at her. Her eyes lit up. She leaned over and kissed his hand tenderly.

"Yes."

***

Lady Vhassar couldn't contain her happiness at the thought of escaping the keep at night with her husband. Aemond had drawn her a map, showing how to get to one of the secret passages. His servant brought her clothes in a sack to change into. She had to do it herself, so it took her a little longer than usual.

She looked at herself in the mirror with a smile. With her oversized jacket, pants and fabric cap, with her hair tucked back, she really looked like a young boy. She felt a wonderful rush of adrenaline, the same she had felt in Volantis when she and her brother had been sneaking out.

At the appointed time, she slipped out of the chamber, turned up the winding, narrow staircase and ran downstairs, hearing the echo of her own footsteps. She stepped out into the great passageway, which smelled of damp, and saw the windows and the exit to the outside.

She saw a hooded figure, leaning against the stone steps. She ran happily to her husband, throwing herself into his arms. He embraced her in surprise, then cupped her cheeks in his hands to make her look at him.

"Stay close to me. Don't talk, so no one will know that you're a woman. If I say we're coming back, you won't protest. Do you understand?" He asked dryly, looking at her intensely. She nodded quickly, unable to suppress a wide smile. He sighed heavily, defeated, took her hand and led her down the stairs.

Lady Vhassar was shockedat how much King's Landing differed by day and night. By day it felt like the city was dying in sun and decay. But now, looking at it in the torchlight, hearing the sounds of music and partying, walking through the crowds of people, she felt that it was buzzing with life. She looked around, curious about everyone and everything, her husband's big, warm hand holding her steady.

She paused to watch the people who danced with the fire and blew it from their mouths. She saw that a man was standing nearby, roasting meat and vegetables on the fire. She looked there and at her husband.

"Are you hungry?" He asked softly and she nodded.

"Stay here." He said dryly and walked over to the man, buying a few pieces of meat for them.

They ate them together, leaning against the wall of one of the houses, watching the men and guards pass by. They watched from a distance a small performance on a wooden stage, apparently some kind of lampoon. It amused her that the women were played by men, painted and disguised, trying to make high, thin sounds. She laughed along with the crowd, watching their antics.

She looked at her husband and saw that he was watching her intensely. She swallowed the last bite, looking at him in surprise. She saw his lips part slightly, felt her nipples harden at the sight. He suddenly grabbed her hand and led her into a dark side street.

They entered a building that was unlike anything she had seen before. She saw that many half-naked women were walking around it. They both looked at each other and she shivered with excitement.

He took her to a brothel.

She watched, enchanted and curious, without a trace of embarrassment, as the people they passed writhed beneath each other, intense sounds surrounded them, full of groans and panting, the smell of sweat wafted around them.

They passed through delicate, white curtains. They were separating the beds that stood around them, giving the illusion of privacy to those who had fun on them. She felt wet, their intertwined hands tightening on each other.

He stopped when he saw that one of the beds was empty. He looked at her, his gaze dark and lustful. She shivered as she saw it. Her lips parted, feeling that she had never wanted someone to fuck her more.

They both breathed uneasily, staring at each other for a moment. He approached her, pulling the hood from his beautiful, blond hair. She also pulled off her canvas cap, letting her dark hair fall over her shoulders.

They lunged at each other, pressing their lips greedily to each other, hands clenching tightly on each other's hair and clothes. They were panting loudly into each other's mouths, as they moved quickly towards the bed, licking and sucking each other, untying their robes in haste.

She didn't even know when he threw himself on the bed with her, pulling off her pants, kneeling in front of her. She was breathing fast, unable to calm down, juices leaking from her entrance straight to the sheets beneath her.

He moaned low at this sight, pulling down his pants, spreading her thighs apart, seeing that no additional caresses would be needed. She pulled him to her, digging hungrily into his mouth, guiding his hard, swollen member to her entrance. He slid into her instantly, confidently, deeply, making them both moan loudly, eyes squeezed shut.

He started moving inside her, fast and hard, fucking her, and that was exactly what she wanted. She clenched her hands on his back, both of them breathing heavily, delighted with the sensation, hearing the raucous moans of other couples in the caica of elation.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" She moaned loudly, feeling how perfectly he filled her, his rough movements rubbing her where it felt so good.

He groaned loudly at her words, speeding up, her hips responded greedily to his every thrust, loud, wet slaps followed each time his thighs hit her buttocks. Their tongues intertwined in a messy, dirty, sticky kiss.

She thought she really was his whore tonight, and she was delighted with the thought. She pressed her hands against his buttocks, panting heavily.

"Please, harder" She sobbed and heard him moan loudly, as he began to fuck her with all his strenght, brutal and animalistic, holding her hips, their juices running down her thighs.

They both moaned louder than ever before. She arched back as she felt his thumb on her clit, massaging her quickly and intensely, leaving her gasping for breath. She knew that a few more of his thrusts and she would come as hard as never before in her life.

"Feels good? Do you like it when I fuck you like that?" He asked with a smirk, panting, as delighted as she was that they were fucking in this place and this way.

"Yes, Gods, it feels so fucking good" She breathed sweetly, her mouth parted, her hands clenched painfully around his buttocks, driving his cock inside her as deep as possible. He moaned low at her words, speeding up, both of them sobbing with pleasure.

"Oh Gods, yes, yes, yes!" She moaned helplessly, arching her whole body as he heard his loud, low moan. They both came hard, writhing under each other, all sweaty and hot, making low, almost animal sounds, their fingers clenched painfully on each other's bodies. She felt his warm semen spreading inside her as they both throbbed against each other, unable to calm down.

He stared at her with hazy eye, his lips slightly parted in pleasure. She touched his cheek, and he buried his face in her hand as if he were a drowning man, and she was the ship that would save him. They were both breathing heavily, looking at each other with delight.

"You must take me here more often, my husband."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @avgdusterfan @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @random-ocity @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @snh96 @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes

Others: @ethereallocs @bellameshipper @tssf-imagines @crazymusicgirl104 @itsabby15 @fan-goddess @menaosama @it-is-getting-better @danielle-leah1997

[fiddleabout]

chef au sneak peak part deux

“One of the guests,” he says.  “She asked to see you, said that she knows you.”

Beatrice blinks at him owlishly.  “Pardon?”

Ashish shrugs, looking stricken.  “The 10:30 at table seven,” he says, as if that explains anything.  

“Do you have a name?”  Beatrice fights the urge to pinch at the bridge of her nose to ward off the way frustration is building in her as much as confusion is.  Ava takes her frustration in stride these days, had done so even before they became-- whatever they are now, heated and physical and entwined in each other’s lives to a truly excessive degree that Beatrice cannot find it in herself to worry about-- but half of the staff crumple in the face of it.

“Oh,” Ashish says, suddenly fumbling for his notepad.  Beatrice swallows the sigh she wants to let out, because there’s no possible way that he actually wrote the name on a reservation down on his notepad.  “Um--”

“Don’t worry about it,” Beatrice says, as kindly as she can after watching him flip through the pad frantically.  “I’ll take a look.  Thank you.”

Ashish shoves the notepad back into his apron pocket, squeaks out something shrill and unintelligible, and immediately flees the vicinity.  Beatrice watches him go, letting out a heavy sigh.

“What was that?” Chanel appears at her elbow, a decanted bottle of wine in one hand and a chef’s knife in the other, one eyebrow flicked upwards.  

“I have no idea.”  Beatrice sighs again.  “He said table seven knows me.”

Chanel’s eyebrow flicks up higher.  “Expecting someone?”

She doesn’t wait for Beatrice to answer, shoving the wine into Beatrice’s hand and blindly handing the knife to Ava, who barely blinks at the interruption as she tastes one of the sauces and then yells for the saucier.  Beatrice watches, frozen, as Chanel weaves her way through the kitchen and pokes her head out the door into the main restaurant for a long moment and then turns back to face her.

“Fun-sized bag of springs, tall smokeshow with spectacular cheekbones?”

“You’re one to talk,” Michelle says as she bustles past Chanel, flicking the towel over her shoulder towards Chanel’s cheekbones on her way over to Ava.  

Camila and Lilith.  Lilith is here, at their restaurant, with her pastry chef, on a Thursday when her own is surely booked solid.  She left her own restaurant to come here.  

“Shit,” Beatrice mutters.  She tries to swallow the inexplicable panic rising in her chest-- Lilith is her best friend, there’s no reason she should be panicking at seeing her-- and glances at the clock.  It’s half past eleven and the restaurant is still almost completely full, an uncharacteristically busy Wednesday; this is the first break Beatrice has had since the dinner rush started.  

“You good?” Ava appears at Beatrice’s elbow, one eyebrow raised and a hand holding out a spoon towards Beatrice’s mouth.  “Here, taste this.”

Beatrice takes the spoon blindly.  It’s muhammara, delicious and one of her favorites but also very much not on the menu for the night, and the discomfort in her chest pivots immediately.

“Why--”

“It’s your favorite, and we had way too many walnuts.”  Ava shrugs, smiles, shoves the bowl of muhammara and piece of pita into Beatrice’s hands.  “Also, you didn’t eat before the dinner rush because we--”

“Thank you,” Beatrice hurries out, cutting Ava off before she can go into lurid detail about how they’d both forgotten to eat before it got busy because they were otherwise occupied by Ava bending Beatrice over her desk in her tiny office.  “But--”

“It took like five minutes,” Ava says with another shrug, intentionally casual in spite of the faint flush dusting over her cheeks and the fact that they both know that she’s lying.  

The twist of panic in Beatrice’s chest vanishes abruptly, because Ava made her muhammara in the middle of a busy night just so she would eat.  She wants to kiss her, wants to drag her back into her office and pick up where they left off when they were busy skipping the lull before the dinner rush; instead, all she can do is clutch the food Ava offered her and stare at her with wonder like she so often does, irrevocably and overwhelmingly charmed.

“Thank you,” Beatrice says softly.

“If you two are quite done.”  Chanel’s reclaimed her knife from where she’d handed it off to Ava and points at Ava and then Beatrice with it.  “Someone is asking for Beatrice outside.”

“What?” Ava’s eyebrows crease.

“Lilith is here,” Beatrice sighs out.  She busies herself with swiping a corner of the pita through the muhammara and shoving it into her mouth, as much to buy time as to deal with the fact that she’s realized suddenly that she is, in fact, starving. 

“Lilith?”  Ava says, straightening up as her eyes widen.

“Wait,” Chanel says.  “Do you mean Lilith as in the executive chef at Per Se?”

“I mean Lilith, Beatrice’s best friend,” Ava says, an almost indecipherable tinge of panic in her voice.

“Who is also the chef at Per Se, yes,” Beatrice says heavily.  

“Well, shit,” Chanel says.  She points at Beatrice with the knife again.  Six months ago, it would have irritated Beatrice, the casual way Chanel is pointing an incredibly sharp knife at her; now, she’s used to it, the way that Ava and Chanel both are prone to using knives as laser pointers.  “Is she here to shoot Ava?”

“Hey!”

“Potentially,” Beatrice says, sighing.  They haven’t told Chanel, not really, but she’s smart and obnoxiously perceptive, so it’s hardly surprising that she immediately assumes that Beatrice’s best friend is here to threaten her girlfriend with an early exit and a shallow grave.  

“Hey!” Ava says again.  “I could hold my own, you never know.”

“You can’t,” Beatrice says in unison with Chanel.  Ava glares at her, her fake indignation so endearing that Beatrice nearly gives up on trying to be professional when they’re in front of the staff, nearly kisses her.  Instead, she takes another bite of the muhammara, inelegant and oversized, before handing it back to Ava so she can dig her phone out of her pocket to text Lilith.

I can’t leave right now.  We’re swamped.  

A response pops up immediately.  Chickenshit, which means Lilith is in a good mood.  I can wait until you close up for the night.  And then: Don’t worry, we’ll tip your tiny little zoomer waiter heavy.

[mayuichi]

“Darling, I'm home.„

Kazuha Kaedehara x Reader. Warnings: somehow angst, mention of self harm and suicide

Do not read if it makes you uncomfortable, I'll post more fics in the future without those!

Note: the few next posts will be repost and rework over the fictions i first wrote on wattpad (around a year or two ago), and i felt bad to not bring them here. but i need to rework on some first bc theyre cringe now... and i can only focus on that and not create new one since my health isnt getting any better for now

Official art from Hoyoverse.

It's a bright and sunny day. You're at the Kamisato Estate. You're used to come here now, especially whenever you aren't feeling too well. The scenery is so peaceful it calms even your noisy mind. And today? It's one of these days.

Unfortunately for you, Thoma is away with Ayaka, and Ayato is busy inside. You wouldn't believe the Kamisato siblings would be avalaible for you, after all, would you?

Sitting on the bench, you look up to the sky. You sigh, pulling up your sleeves. When did it all started? And why did you even started it ? Do you remember? All you know is you've done it too much by now. And it isn't the soft cuts anymore.

They're so deep. Even if it ends up healing, if you ever succeed in not opening them again, you'll always have their marks on your arms. But who can you share your burdens to?

Everyone in town loves you, yes, thanks to your business. You're nice and sweet, you wouldn't even hurt a fly. You always seem so confident and sure of yourself. No one could believe you need help.

Whenever you'd see your body, you only feel ugliness. Who wouldn't? It's decorated with scars. On your arms, legs, even on your hips.

Yes, you do have some friends. First, the Kamisato siblings. Even in the nations you already visited. You even managed to have a somehow beginning of friendship with Scaramouche.

So why can't you at least be truly happy? Why can't you be normal once again? Something within you hate to see them hanging together, getting along so well. Is it jealousy perhaps?

“Of course not. I can't be jealous over something so stupid.„ yet, why can't you believe your own words? You sigh. You know since the beginning in what you engaged yourself. She's just your boyfriend's boss. It's thank to her he can live the life he wants and be able to come back every once in a while with you.

Your eyes become teary as the doubts fill your mind. Does he love you? His life is one of sailing, so why did he returned your feelings if he can't be here?

Just this morning, your short blade grazed against your skin, making new scratches. And you just hide them under your sleeves once more. It's time for you to head home.

On your way home, you're lost in your thoughts. Doubts and self loathe fill your mind to the point you don't even notice Ayaka and Thoma coming back from their business. They had to stop you to be able to strike a conversation.

“Oh, dear... Are you alright? You seem pale...„ Ayaka reaches out to brush her fingers against your cheek, her eyes filled with worry. “Oh no.. It's alright. I just need some rest.„ you fake a faint smile.

“If you need, I'm sure my lords wouldn't mind lending you a room for tonight.„ Thoma's gaze softens. He knows that as long as you don't bother neither of them, you would be able to stay. But you dismiss his words. “I appreciate it but... He comes home today..„

You feel your heart pounding at your words. It's true. That's also one of the reason for your emotional distress. After a month, he finally comes back. And your stress couldn't be higher.

Muttering an apology, you hurry home. It isn't luxurious or too spacious, but it's alright. It's more than enough for you.

When you thought your anxiety couldn't become worst, is when it proves you were wrong. You expected him to be already home, but he isn't. You're there, alone. Walking to the calendar, you sigh. “He said he'd come back today...„

You know it's probably just the ship taking more time than what was planned. But your self destructive thoughts never take rest. The voice in your head keeps the same old speech as always. That he's with her, and he's going to leave you.

What could you do now? Beside wait, nothing could be done. Your shoulders dropping in defeat, you silently sit on the couch, staring at the floor.

Three hours passed. Three hours doing nothing more than staring around and overthinking. In the end, you believe he just left without warning you. And just as you're about to give in your despair, you hear a door, and that familiar voice.

“Darling, I'm home.„ you want to get up and jump in his arms, but your body doesn't answer your command. You're so happy he's here, and yet... Tears sting in your eyes. Why are you crying now? He's here, with you. Do you even know if it's tears of joy or not?

His footsteps creep closer, until his head peeks through the doorframe. “Are you home?„ his eyes land on you. He stares at you. Seeing your shoulders shuddering, hearing broken sobs, he's quick to come next to you.

“Love... Are you crying?„ you don't answer. How could you when your voice doesn't want to come out of your throat? He sits down next to you, carefully slipping an arm around your shoulders, his other hand resting on your thigh to caress it in a comforting gesture.

He doesn't pressure you. He knows better than to force you. So he waits until you speak by yourself. “Why... Why am I so hideous..?„ he doesn't say anything. He lets you go on hating yourself for now. He doesn't even know what to do or say exactly, but if just listening can help you, he'd do it.

You rent about everything, not even caring about anything. Your insecurities, your fears, your doubts, even your self harm. He doesn't mention any of that. It's when you finish speaking that he says one thing.

“... Can you let me treat your wounds?„ he doesn't even wait for your answer. He stands up to get some bandages and alcohol to disinfect. You wince at the slight pain, and he tells you to hang in there.

He clearly has no idea how to comfort you, so he then places down the alcohol and bandages, gently wrapping his arms around you.

“I know I sail a lot. That worries you too, but I promise you there isn't a single day I do not think of you. You know that Beidou is nothing more than a friend, and you're the only one in my eyes. I'd never trade you for anyone better, because no one can be better.„

His words make your eyes light up slightly. It's stupid, but just that makes you feel better. Knowing he looks at you so highly. You lean against him, head resting against his chest. His hand caresses your back in gentle stroke.

“As for your... self harm issues. We can work through it together. You can tell me anything, I'd never judge. Just, don't keep it for yourself. You can lean on me whenever you need.„

He chuckles as your eyes stay on him. He kisses your forehead, taking the blanket on the other side of the couch to place it over you.

“You'll get better, and I'll be here along the way for you. We're going to overcome that together. Perhaps I could make you join me for the next sailing with Beidou?„

And just this way, you stayed in his arms for the rest of the evening, and night. What a great way to finish a stressful day.

/ᐠ - ˕ •マ Ⳋ mayuichi's property. do not copy, repost or translate without permission.

[atalossofwords]

YOU TASTE THE SILVER - IvanTill WIP (Part 5&6)

And we have two more POVs on this one! I was posting just one at a time to give myself a buffer to posting on AO3, but I wrote more than I expected haha.

That's right! The first chapter is now up on ao3 on this link. Please come by and leave some kudos!!

part one - part two - part three - part four

Things move on smoothly for Till. He's used to his new apartment, his set-up is pinterest-worthy if Hyuna has anything to say about it, and he's even opened his PO box again, warning his fans to only send letters and small packages, since he really enjoyed reading what everyone had to say.

(He's actually working on a collage of sorts, decking out one wall of his office with the letters. He always feels warm, looking at them. Kirby sent a really cute letter full of mongmong stickers, Bonbon's kid drew a really cute crayon rendition of his dad peering at his phone while vacuuming, and Jaewoon sent about 5 different drawings he treasures greatly.)

Leaving his PO box open, however, also means Navi has been sending a never-ending stream of little gifts. Almost none of them come with letters, or if they do, they're brief and printed from a computer. Apparently, since Till only comments on the contents of the gifts if he happens to wear them on-stream and said viewer comments on it, Navi decided that's the perfect excuse to spoil Till without making him lose his composure on-stream.

So far, Till has gotten; a new sweater, a varied collection of rings, a bundle of cellphone charms after he commented the string he looped through the case to hold his phone in case it falls frayed away.

Apparently, Navi also managed to walk around the "small package" limitation by sending gift cards for several stores. Till had no idea furniture stores even did gift cards.

He felt… sort of warm. If it was just an old man looking to spend his money or lure Till in, they'd probably insist on more diamonds or expensive stuff, right? Or insist Till comment on the gifts live, if it was some sort of sasaeng looking for attention.

Navi never did any of those things. After the diamonds, the gifts were never something Till would consider super expansive, unless you counted the frequency of them. The rings were silver, but none had jewels, the phone charms looked like something Till himself could get online, except the tags on them showed they were bought in Taiwan. The gift cards were weirder, but nothing more expensive than what Navi would donate over the course of one or two streams.

That is, until this latest gift.

Till stares at it, feeling the bottom of his stomach give out. He's in his kitchen, back from a supermarket run after he picked his latest batch of letters. He was going to read them while he ate lunch, but he feels 0 interest in his food right now.

He's holding two tickets for Mizi's concert, in the VIP section. One of those that comes attached to a meet-and-greet.

Clipped to them in an inconspicuous pink paperclip is a note.

I don't know if you got tickets for yourself, but I won these and will be out of the country at the time. I hope you can enjoy them with someone else. If the staff needs any information about the VIP status, here's my number. (xx) xxx-xxx. - Navi.

It is a handwritten note, written with a black pen in a hurry, so much so Till has to squint to make some of it out. The handwriting looks like someone who's not used to writing, with lots of places where the pen left marks as it hovered over the page without gliding, except the signature, which looks practed and neat.

Till has no idea what to do about this.

He calls Hyuna.

"Hi, I'm live." She answers, and he swears. He forgot to account for her streaming hours. He must sound agitated enough it worries her, because there's the sound of a few buttons being pressed, probably muting herself. "Till?"

He takes a deep breath.

"Sorry, I can call later." He says, putting the tickets down carefully and taking his lunch to the sink. He won't finish it.

"It's fine, what happened?"

"Navi sent in another gift." He can practically feel her rolling her eyes equal parts exasperated and relieved.

"Till, if you called me to fawn over your potential sugar daddy–"

"It's two tickets to Mizi's concert, VIP, with a meet-and-greet. And a number to contact if there's problems getting in." He says quickly, interrupting her. He runs one hand through his hair, starting to get stressed. Is this a trick? Is Navi going to be waiting on the seat besides these, corner Till in the show? No, they wouldn't send two tickets if this was the case.

"Holy shit." Hyuna says, entirely surprised. He makes a little agreeable noise. "Holy shit, Till, these aren't just expensive, they're like, hard to get. Did you message them yet?"

Till shakes his head, then realizes she can't see it. "No, I didn't call or message. Should I?" On the other side of the line Hyuna makes a tsk sound.

"No, don't call or message it. Let me finish the stream normally, and then we can look into it, okay? You said two tickets right? If you decide to go, take me or Isaac, and it should be alright." Till hums his agreement, and lets Hyuna go to finish her stream. It's a good plan, Hyuna can and has punched guys who harassed her, and Isaac is built like a brick house, no way a weirdo is getting close to him with Isaac there.

Dewey is probably a bad idea, he's more likely to punch first and ask questions never.

Till sighs, puts the tickets back on the envelope and goes take a bath, hoping it'll help him relax and maybe bring back his appetite.

Ivan is taking a water break from rehearsals when his phone chimes with a notification from an unknown number.

He immediately feels dread, did his number get leaked? He sits up, putting his water bottle down and opening the message.

Unknown [ 3:24PM ] Is this Navi?

Ivan blinks at the message, not understanding it for a long second. And then he is hit with the memories of staying up at night some days ago, reviewing the footage from the day's shoot and going over the script time and time again, because his performance was horrible and the whole scene had to be scrapped and he was so frustrated, and…

And Sua sent a message asking if he'd meet her for Mandated Lunch Time before Mizi's concert next month, and he remembered he couldn't make it since he'd be shooting that day, and he thought.

Till likes Mizi. Ivan has Mizi tickets.

He doesn't even remember what he wrote on the damn letter, oh god, did he sign with his name? Plaster his address on it??

This is fine. Ivan is fine. He asks one of the fight coordinators for five minutes and heads into the bathroom.

You [ 3:25PM ] Yes, who is it?

Better to see what they know before saying anything incriminating.

Unknow [ 3:25PM ] This is Till. Did you really send me Mizi tickets? How did you even get them?

Okay. Deep breaths, Ivan. You can do it. Say this is Navi, you really sent the tickets and that it's no big deal, and you got them… How did you get them? You can't say your real name, and saying you bought them for Till would sound weird, these really are expansive.

Ivan takes a deep breath, and sits on the toilet's lid, crossing his legs to rest his elbows on his knees.

You [ 3:26PM ] Hyung, you always said you liked them, and I happened across these as a job perk. I'll be out of the country, so it was no problem to give them to you.

Unknow [ 3:26PM ] A job perk? Even if that's true, they can't have been cheap. I've already told you, there's no need to keep wasting money on me.

You [ 3:27PM ] It's not wasting money, hyung. I really enjoy your lives, and it makes me happy knowing you're enjoying yourself. I work in the industry, so I know some people who are much less talented than you with a lot more opportunities. I just wanted to give you something to enjoy.

Ivan's fingers are flying over the keyboard before he's even conscious of it, indignation flaring up in his chest. Till works so much, he produces and sings and plays the guitar and drums, he writes his own lyrics, he's so incredibly talented and it makes Ivan furious to know he doesn't see it.

Ivan's been in the spotlight since he was a child acting on toy commercials, met even more people when he and Sua acted together as the twins of a famous singer on a period drama, and there's so many of these so-called "idols" that have a pretty voice and body and nothing else to give. So many actors bank on their looks and have 0 dedication to the craft. It makes Ivan livid.

You [ 3:27PM ] Hyung is so hard-working, and I really wish you'd see it. Your music deserves to be sold on albums and people should praise you so much more for how good your lyrics are. The people I work with don't put half the effort Hyung does, and they get to go to shows and afterparties all the time. I just want to let Hyung see his Idol and have a good time, since I won't use the tickets anyway. Is that bad?

Ivan is… breathing hard. He's somehow lost his cool. He watches as the three dots appear and disappear, and decides to get up. He exits the stall, splashes some water on his face, combs his hair back. Does a breathing exercise his mother taught him and Sua when his father and Sua's mom were fighting, and looks back at his phone.

Unknow [ 3:28PM ] Thank you. I'll enjoy the show.

Unknow [ 3:29PM ] Can I still message this number after it?

Ivan lets out an entirely undignified squeal, and almost does a little victory dance, all previous frustration wipes clean. Till wants to keep talking! Till isn't rejecting him!! Ivan has Till's phone number!!

You [ 3:29PM ] Yes! Hyung can message me whenever <3 I'll do my best to answer!

Unknow [ 3:30PM ] Great. I'll let you know how the show goes, then.

Ivan may be getting ready for a heart attack at the tender age of 22, but he's never regretted anything, in his life, ever.

part seven

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

If we're gonna do this we gonna do it right!.... Song fic (or headcanon; whatever fits your mood) of Silver & Deuce trying to set Lilia & Mama Spade up for a date; cameo of "Kiss the Girl" moment from the OG Little Mermaid >:3c

[Referencing this unofficial blog event!]

*makes a banner that looks like a little kid bashing two of their dolls’ heads together* I decided to use Lilia’s Clubwear look for the banner since that’s the closest thing to “casual clothes” he has. I also threw in some… guest stars, shall we say, to spice up the situation! Kronk voice) Oh yeah, it’s all coming together 😎

I wrote headcanons again since I'm already working on quite a few longer pieces in the background. I went wild with this one, so I hope you enjoy!

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Deuce regularly spoke with his mom over the phone about the recent happenings in their lives. What he didn't expect was for her to announce that she was visiting the town on Sage's Island tomorrow. "I've been improving my computer skills, Deuce!" Dylla told him proudly. "I've been doing that instant messaging thing that's all the rage with you kiddos. I even made myself an online friend! I'm going to meet him in town. I'll come see you afterwards, okay?"

Well, that just sent Deuce into an existential crisis. Sure, his mom was a tough, independent woman that could fend for herself, but he had a tendency to fret for her wellbeing, especially knowing what he put her through in his delinquent phase. What if the "online friend" was a total creep or even someone dangerous? She deserved nothing less than the best company (and anyone that so much as looked at her the wrong way would soon find Deuce coming at them full throttle to slug them in the face).

He can't focus during lectures or on his homework at all. Deuce just keeps fidgeting and pacing back and forth, his thoughts wracked with worry. At some point, he can't contain himself and blurts everything out to Ace (first mistake).

Ace decides to pounce on this opportunity to tease his roomie. "Dude, she's definitely meeting a secret boyfriend for a date. You'd better start preparing lines to kiss ass to your soon-to-be-stepdad."

"MY MOM WOULDN'T DO THAT!! N-Not without telling me about it at least..." Deuce insists--but as irritating as Ace is, his immature jokes only feed the paranoia. Was it possibly true? Was his mom seeing an unknown man, considering bringing him into their family?! Those thoughts swirl in his head and cloud his better judgment when he turns in for the night.

The very next day, Deuce makes a beeline to the town to put his nerves to rest. I'm just going to watch them to make sure nothing weird's going on and that mom stays safe!! He's in such a hurry that he barely registers Ace shouting after him, "It was just a prank, bro! I didn't think you'd actually take it this seriously!", nor the startled Silver (+ a bird friend resting on his shoulder) and angry Sebek that he crashes into.

Right as Sebek starts on a fresh tirade (“Watch where you’re going, human!! Have you no regards for your seniors?!”), Deuce shoves right by him with an, “Aaah, I don’t have time for this! Mom’s in a pinch!!”

"What NERVE, running off while you're being berated for your negligence?! GET BACK HERE, I'M NOT DONE WITH YOU YET!!" (And so Sebek gives chase after him)

"Sebek, wait..." (But he's already long gone, and too frenzied in his pursuit, that he doesn't pay his fellow knight any mind.) "... I wonder what all that was about," Silver sighs. I should follow them to make sure things don't get out of hand.

He's a few steps down the road when he hears someone fast approaching from behind. Who should appear but an out-of-breath Ace. "Hey, Silver-senpai! Did you see Deuce going this way?! Sheesh, can that guy run! Took off so fast, I couldn't keep up..."

"I did. He ran into town, and Sebek after him."

"Great! That's all I needed to know, thanks!" And then Ace, too, is gone. (Silver, pure soul that he is, incorrectly assumes the best of him. If Deuce and Sebek both leave campus without getting the right permissions for it, they could both get in trouble. Ace is so considerate to go and help his friend. He's really living up to the Heartslabyul spirit and creed.)

The four boys eventually find each other again in town (Silver trailing after Ace, Ace tracking down Sebek by his loud voice, and Sebek locating Deuce, who is shadily staring daggers at a pair window shopping).

Sebek’s back to shouting at Deuce, Ace is telling Sebek to can it, and Deuce is ignoring them both. "Who's that guy mom's with?! I can't see too well from this far away, but I can't get any closer in case I'm spotted..." Deuce grumbles to himself.

“Hold up, lemme see!!” Ace nosily butts in, squinting at the duo in the distance. “Huh, it kinda looks like Lilia-senpai from this angle, but I must be wrong... right?”

Silver looks where Deuce and Ace are, and his heart nearly stops. "F-Father?!" The word is out of his mouth before he can reel it back in—Sebek’s face is affixed in horror at the slip, and the Heartslabyul boys absolutely lose it.

“Whaaaat?! I-If your dad is my mom’s date… then… th-then… Silver-senpai and I will become stepbrothers?!”

“Forget that!! What I wanna know is, why does Silver-senpai’s dad look like a carbon copy of Lilia-senpai in a different hairstyle and punkier clothes?!”

“WHAT NONSENSE ARE YOU BLATHERING ON ABOUT NOW?! Hold your tongue, cur! You know not of what you speak!! C-Clearly Silver’s father does NOT resemble our esteemed Lilia-sama in any way, shape, or form!!” Sebek bellowed angrily. “TELL THEM, SILVER!!”

“Er… yes, that’s right. I’m afraid I don’t see the resemblance at all. They are nothing alike."

(The Diasomnia duo had been totally blindsided by this turn of events; when Lilia had told them earlier that he was going to meet up with an online friend, they hadn't expected it, in actuality, to have been a date. Silver had thought Lilia was going to meet his long-time gaming buddy, Gloomy Samurai, in person, not a classmate's MOTHER.)

“Are you both sleeping with your eyes open or something?! That SO totally looks like Lilia-senpai,” Ace protests—but Deuce (bless him) is somehow 100% convinced. In fact, this realization just fuels him even more!!

"We should leave. It would be rude of us to intrude on their private time together," Silver tries to suggest--but no, Deuce won't back down at this point.

"Silver-senpai! ... No, future stepbrother Silver-senpai!!" Deuce says very, VERY seriously, "Don't stop me now! I have to do this....!! I have to make sure your dad's the right man for my mom."

Sebek begins to raise his voice again, but (shockingly) Silver puts an arm in front of him, silencing the first year. Silver's expression turns very fierce, matching the hardness in Deuce's eyes. "I can assure you, my father is a good man. He would never bring harm to, nor disrespect, anyone. I apologize, but I won't allow you to remain suspicious of my father. If he wishes to court another, then that should be his prerogative, and I fully support him."

But like a boulder, Deuce's determination is difficult to shift. "Even if it's you asking me to step down, I won't!! This is important to me. My mom is important to me!!"

Those words seem to strike a chord with Silver, whose features soften. "... I understand. If that's the case, then prove your resolve to me, man to man--and I will demonstrate mine." ("Ohoh!! Silver has thrown down the gauntlet!! What do you say, human?! Do you accept his challenge?!" Sebek cries in the background. Ace eyes the situation warily--how quickly his teasing had spiraled into something serious.)

"I gotchu." Deuce slams a fist into an open palm, grin wicked--his delinquent side coming out. "We'll throw down, get our parents to show off their best attributes to each other."

"It's settled then."

"We'll make their date go smoothly!! That way, we'll see just how much of their good points' come out and if they're suited for each other or not."

"Agreed. It is simple."

"It's so obvious!"

"How did you guys even come to THAT conclusion?! You totally skipped some steps there,” Ace groaned (amidst Sebek's way-too-interested chanting). "You guys rubbed your collective two brain cells and that's the best thing you could come up with?!"

The boys shadow Lilia and Dylla for a few hours, but nothing that interesting happens. It’s mostly them talking and sightseeing (plus the occasional bad pun, which sets Deuce's mom into hysterics), not really doing anything inherently romantic. Ace starts to sweat, realizing the hole he’s dug himself into. If they figure out this was all based on a bad joke, then he’d have an upset Deuce and maybe even Silver and Sebek wailing on him. If he doesn’t turn the tables soon, he might be in a world of hurt.

“Wow, would you look at that! They must be really shy!” Ace hurriedly comments.

“That’s strange. Father isn’t normally like this. He’s very free-spirited. I wonder if something is wrong…”

“Maybe Deuce’s mom is such a bombshell that he’s all tongue-tied!!” Ace elbows Deuce in the ribs, only to earn a slight glare back. “We should try to do something to move things along.”

“… I got nothin’,” Deuce confessed.

“Seriously? Alright, I guess it’s up to me then.”

“JUST A MINUTE,” Sebek thunders. “Who died and made YOU the love expert?! How do we even know we can trust your advice?!”

“Uh, news flash numbskull: I’ve actually had a girlfriend before so I’d know the kind of junk chicks are into! Besides, what would you know? All you ever kiss is Malleus-senpai’s—”

“Do NOT use the Young Master’s name in vain!! It is this exact kind of brash behavior that explains why you’re without a partner now!!” Sebek smirked as he folded his arms. “I, on the other hand, am well-versed in matters of love thanks to Lilia-sama’s mentoring and the romance materials I’ve absorbed in my spare time.”

“Like hell you are! Hearing about it and reading it is totally different from experiencing it in real life!!”

While Ace an Sebek squabble, poor Deuce is trying so hard to brainstorm and Silver’s starting to doze of again. That’s when his head bolts upright from a peck on the cheek. His bird friend peers right into Silver’s eyes as if to say, “Watch this!”

The bird flies off and snatches the cap from Dylla's head. There’s a big commotion as both she and Lilia try to retrieve the hat, but the bird easily avoids them and retreats with them closely following. Silver automatically recognizes where the bird is leading them and urges his classmates to come along.

As he suspects, the love guru bird guides them all to a lagoon far off from the town and teeming with wildlife. It drops Dylla's hat into a small abandoned rowboat by the shore, which Lilia scoops up and replaces on her head. He’s not bothered by the chase—his eyes sparkle with wanderlust, and he mouths something to her, waving at the boat. It’s an invitation to ride out with him, which she agrees to.

Lilia bows like a faithful attendant and gestures for her to step on. She does—wobbles at the instability of the water that the boat is upon, and Lilia swoops in, steadying her and leading her by the hand on.

He goes afterwards, nestling between the oars and startling to propel them to the center of the lake. They grow smaller and smaller, until… “Crap, they’re going to go way too far into the water for us to keep up with them,” Deuce curses. “How are we supposed to give them support like this?”

That's when Sebek gets surprisingly smug and declares that at times like these, one should create the right mood with music! "In the old days, the nobility of Briar Valley would sing sweet serenades to win hearts!! This lake is the perfect location for it, as the still waters will carry voices well." ("Oh yeah? And how are we gonna get them to serenade each other in this day and age, dumbass?" Ace asks cheekily.)

"Simple!" Sebek straightens the lapels on his jacket. "I SHALL BE THE ONE TO PROVIDE THE ROMANTIC AMBIENCE!!" This sends Ace into a laughing fit that hits so hard he doubles over, clutching onto his stomach as Sebek clears his throat, preparing for his performance. Silver quietly slips his hands over his bird friend's ears.

Out on the lake, Lilia's pointing to various constellations in the sky and telling the tales associated with each. Dylla's eyes sparkle as he regales her with the heroic exploits of the demigod Hercules, the firefly that fell in love with a star called Evangeline, the star that brought a puppet to life, the great kings of the past, the second star to the right--named for the boy who never wanted to grow up...

Deuce isn't ready for it when Sebek belts out the first note. It's ear-splittingly loud and scratchy, like a poor animal on its deathbed croaking its last word. The boys collapse to the ground, shielding their poor ears and shouting for Sebek to stop.

Dylla grimaces at the sound. "Did you hear something?" she asks Lilia. He simply claims, "No, nothing."

"You're screwing this up!" Ace hisses at Sebek. "There's gotta be some other way for us to make music."

"Wait, I've got it!!" Deuce says--and with the wave of his magical pen... "Come forth, cauldron!" It lands in front of him with a colossal THUNK, and while the rest of the boys stare, Deuce looks pleased with himself. "It can work as drums!"

"I won't be bested by the likes of a human!! If you're going to play the drums, then... then... THEN I WILL PLAY THE VIOLIN!" Sebek summons the instrument with his own magic, only to be stopped by Ace.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! I heard from Epel that you suck at the violin! Can't you pick something else?!"

"THE YOUNG MASTER IS SKILLED AT PLAYING THE STRINGS, SO THAT IS WHAT I, TOO, SHALL PLAY!! I REFUSE TO COMPROMISE ON THIS MATTER!!"

"Tch. You never listen to anyone, do you..." Ace heaves a sigh. "Well, whatever. I'm not about to waste more energy arguing. Just playing the instruments from here won't do much, so I'll use my wind magic to amplify the sound."

“We have percussion, strings, and winds then. All that’s left for a romantic song is… words.” Silver looks at each of his classmates in turn. “I will accept this task, since I’ve yet to be assigned a role. There is one love song I know of from father, so I hope it will suffice.”

The bird on his shoulder tweets, letting the boys know he, too, will lend his help. With the flap of his wings, he takes flight once more, spreading word of their cause to the animals in the surrounding area. They rally like a performance troop, fanning out through the lake and readying for a musical number.

As their discordant song swells up, propelled by Ace's winds, the lake comes to life with sweet birdsong and humming fish. Silver gathers his breath and releases it, singing the words to a song once performed by the friends of a mermaid princess. "There you see her, sitting there across the way..."

"I'm sure I hear something this time," Dylla says, craning her head to look around the lake. "Someone's playing music and... singing?"

"Really? I don't hear it," Lilia says, giving the oars another row. As they pull up from the water, Dylla startles at the frogs that stand upon the oars in a neat line. They look like they've assembled for choir, ribbiting in harmony until Lilia dips the oars back into the lake water.

"Something strange is definitely going on here! How can you not hear it now?" (He shrugs.)

The boat drifts along to an area blanketed by willow trees. Two storks swoop down, parting the leaves for them to enter. When the leaves fall down, they're curtained away from the rest of the world, secluded with one another. There's only each other, and the soft glow of fireflies warming them.

Lilia stops rowing the boat. He checks to make sure the coast is clear, then leans closer to Dylla, a knowing grin at his lips. "Sorry! I didn't want to ruin the boys' fun so I went along with it and pretended to be none the wiser. We should be safe now though--they can't see us thanks to this shroud." He gestures to the willows draped around them.

"My hearing is quite sharp." Lilia cups an ear, as if to demonstrate. "It sounds like Silver, Deuce, and... Ace and Sebek, two of their classmates! Sebek in particular is difficult to not notice--his voice is very loud."

"What are they doing all the way out here?"

Lilia laughs softly. "It seems there's been a bit of a misunderstanding on their part. Someone has convinced them that this--" He waves at the space between them. "--what we have here, is something more."

Dylla face settles into a solemn expression. “Oh no, I’m sorry that Deuce is causing you trouble. He’s probably got it in his head that I'd be happier if I found a new husband and jumped at the first other single parent he knew... Deuce gets overexcited sometimes and doesn’t know when to stop once he’s started. My boy can be as stubborn as a mule, but he shouldn't be putting pressure on you to feel a certain way."

"Don't worry! Silver's doing the very same." Lilia lets his head rest on a shoulder as he looks out at the lake. “I haven’t given much thought to finding a significant other myself. Happiness isn’t inherently tied to marriage after all. It’s something we all seek out and discover for ourselves.”

Dylla finds herself smiling a little at Lilia's words. In all the time she has spoken with him, he's mostly been silly--but he also knows when to pull back and to speak seriously. There's a sense of comfort and security to Lilia.

"It's funny, isn't it? Our children are nearly adults now, yet they're still as innocent as they ever were. They wish for our happiness so much that they've taken it upon themselves to make it a reality. There is a simplicity and a selflessness to that. They mean well, they're just going about it in their own way. We can give them stern talking-tos when we return, no need to get to it now."

"... You're exactly the kind of role model Deuce needs in his life."

"Be careful what you wish for, dear," Lilia says with a wink. "I just might sweep you off your feet. I can't help it if you fall for me, you know? I'm too cute to resist."

"Hahaha, now you're just getting smart with me!" Dylla playfully shoves him in the chest--a little too hard, not recognizing her own strength. Lilia wobbles, the boat wobbling with him. He grips it to steady them both, but they're already teetering, and... SPLOOSH!!

The boat tips over, dumping both Lilia and Dylla in the icy waters. Luckily for them, the lake isn't that deep so while they're sopping wet and shivering, they're still safe.

“Are you okay?” Dylla calls out to Lilia. He responds with a laugh, splashing her with water. It’s a direct hit on her face!! Wiping off the water dripping from her features, she growls, “Alright, I get your game! You wanna play? Then let’s play.”

Back across the lake, the boys’ song had finished. Deuce shades his eyes and gazes at the willow trees. “… How do you think they’re doing in there?” Deuce nervously wonders.

“OBVIOUSLY LIL… Er, I mean, SILVER’S FATHER THAT IS DEFINITELY NOT LILIA-SAMA MUST BE THE CAUSE FOR HER SWOONING!!”

“Man, just say that you think the date’s going well. That’s way too many words for what you actually want to say.”

Silver strains his ears and listens. The soft sounds of nature are punctuated with laughter and squealing beyond the weeping willows. His father, and Mrs. Spade, and the joy they experienced in each other’s company. “I think… we don’t need to worry.”

And so the hectic day ended happily ever after.

[horizon-verizon]

I feel like I watched a completely different episode from people claiming he’s trying to be a good king. Did people not see the fact he doesn’t take his small council meeting, while on the verge of war, seriously? He was more interested in silly pony games than the actual work of ruling. He dragged a toddler to the meeting to “prepare him to rule” but then wanted to be fun dad while again, the country is about to be in a war where both sides have nukes.

In the throne room, he’s more interested in trying to essentially buy love than making the hard decisions of being king. Same as when he’s drunking and brainstorming names for himself with the frat bros (instead of being with his wife and their children), he just wants people to love him, because he’s such a spoiled little shit that neither of his parents really did.

For my part I don’t think Aegon has been improved compared to season 1, this episode proved that he was incompetent and impulsive and he wants to make a lot of decisions in a hurry to the point that Otto and Alicent have to stop him from going too far and the fact that he wants to send Vaghar wherever all the time makes me realize how much he and the other Greens overestimate this dragon and they seem to rest all their hope on it while Caraxes, despite being younger and smaller, will end up killing her alone.

Aegon is trying to be the "good" king he thinks is "good" and gain the smallfolk's favor. It's a deal of "if I make them like me and just give them what they want in the moment (without regarding the disadvantages to either me or them if I agree), then whatever I do, I am genuinely a good king".

Is it disingenuous, of course. But yes he is trying to be a "good" king, and another part of that goodness is being unrelentingly violent or commanding or to expect others to bend to his will to get what he wants...bc yes there is an element to that in how the nobles of this society evaluates a "good" king already--that "ruthlessness" to accomplish one's goals or to annihilate OR subdue/disempower his enemies. Problem is that Aegon thinks he has to and is entitled to cross boundaries of select others whenever he wishes to "prove" he is king and that others must comply bc he is King and only their submission proves he is king even as he doesn't do anything t really show them why is rule would be in their long term or immediate interests/comfort. There is no balance or attempt at intelligently coming up with ways for pursuing the war or to rule the realm. He wants his cake and eat it, too, and tbf, in this world he very well could if he had been named heir...bc he has a penis.

With him, it's just his mercurial will and endless search for self-indulgence. Ironically, exactly like how many Rhaenyra antis-accused her of being, bk or show, when all evidence shows the opposite or her simply trying to cultivate autonomy and happiness while performing real/idea of duty.

So, in this way, Aegon is written brilliantly and TGC turns the party, i admit. They really conveyed his bk character so well. I actually didn't feel they were portraying a "likeable" person or a good father at all, he's still very negligent and more interested in Jaehaerys as an heir/self-affirmation. And he allows himself to bond w/Jaehaera even less bc she is female. (Not that I thought you were saying, anon, that they wrote him terribly. As you say, the episode proved how ridiculous he truly was and anyone who genuinely thinks he is a good person, father, or a ruler has some serious self examination to go through).

What would make it better if in the next episode he actually starts to sexistly call Rhaenyra all sorts of shit as he does in canon as he's doing his smashing fit thing or elsewise. I actually didn't mind the "green heavy" episode, both bc it was here at least interpersed w/black stuff but also tgc really gave it. And despite Phia's excellent acting, I simply cannot like the B&C scene and disagree with the possibility that canon greens exaggerated B&C. I mean, hello, in the bk Jae's head was cleanly cut off in one swoop while in the episode they sawed it off....less gory where?! We don't need to see gore or lack thereof to know its there or hear it happening and to compare which is worse.

So there's that.

[se7ens-oc-heaven]

I don't fully recall what originally prompted this - probably a discussion with @shyyren tbh - but found this among my lists! Basically trying to consider if the other legendkeepers had ended up in Ritsu's shoes in Legends: Arceus - specifically being banished from Jubilife Village.

[Image text: I wrote out 'how the legendkeepers cast react to Kamado's Banishment in PLA' can I copypaste that here to share?]

Satsuki - hurt, teary, 'I worked hard, I didn't do anything wrong here, this isn't fair' type of angle. Takes being escorted with some grace but is Dissatisfied with the outcome

Ren - 'haha wow Kamado you had me going, didn't take you for a prankster b-- oh. Oh you're serious. Oh, mb. ......can I at least take my gear with me on my way out?' Handles being escorted compliantly enough

Aya - pulls Rex on Rose level violence, but gets Thrown since Kamado has far more years of training. Takes the escort kicking and screaming the whole way

Maciel - shoots some counter retorts, may stare down Kamado for a moment before giving up on it. Storms out

Touya - Disappointed™️ in Kamado. It doesn't change anything but Kamado walks away somehow feeling lowkey chastised even if Touya doesn't argue too much against it /silly. Takes the escort with no complaints so long as they let him get the egg gear and eggs bc you Know he'd introduce this concept Immediately

Lena - either slaps or just hits him once across the face*. Expresses that he is a terrible leader, to make such a decision when it has proven time and again that working together is The Solution - including alongside pokemon. Leaves without further fuss but has clearly lost respect for Kamado.

Kimmie - v loud, full of disbelief and indignant at this turn of events. Might make a comment about how following superstitions won't get them anywhere. Fussy about being escorted out but goes with it

Xav - meets Kamado with a deadeye stare from start to finish. Leaves without a word.

Rex - see Aya above. Only slightly less feral as he's escorted out

Aspen - if he makes it this far? Cries. Leaves village still crying

Natsumi - seems mildly inconvenienced and leaves without much fuss (is actually a lot more upset than they let on)

*I do think with Kamado's training she wouldn't normally get one in, BUT - Lena also does not seem like the type to do this in the slightest (unlike Aya or Rex) so I figure she gets one in on the grace of it being so out of nowhere.

Bonus round since this prompt predates a few of the cast:

Sumire - Like Aspen, may not get this far (though she'd get furthest out of the ones who Wouldn't)- but if she does, starts crying mixed with an anxiety attack, but is also angry in the midst of all that. Wants to retort or make some well-thought out point like the others but it most likely gets lost in stuttering and sobbing, unfortunately. Lets herself get escorted just calmly enough to barely hold back further sobbing/hyperventilating.

Dust - would likely get further than Aspen, but again is unlikely to get this far. If they do, they're stunned speechless for most of the Commander's decree. Most likely the type to be like "you can't do this to me" once she finds her words - not necessarily in an aggrandizing fashion, but definitely wasn't expecting this, with some level of pleading mixed in. Leaves the village in a state of shock, moving slowly and likely has to be urged to hurry up.

Troy - she gives Commander Kamado an icy stare through it all - and most likely had seen this coming. Is not surprised, but is still very bitter. She likely makes a sharp comment about the village getting on without her help, and is annoyed at the escort because it holds her back from leaving in a huff if anything.

Realistically, I think the people least likely to get through the PLA plot far enough to reach this point include Aspen, Dust, Touya, Ren, and Sumire - in approximate order of who'd drop out soonest. Several of them (Aspen, Dust and Touya) are not really serious battlers/trainers without the right influences, and even those who do (Ren and Sumire) either don't quite meet challenge levels as readily/easily as other champions do, and/or may not be suited to the trials Hisui specifically offers.