#i hate how his hair looks most of time in later seasons they look so flat

[siooin]

top 20 of recent gintama population poll they will announce the ranking later but we all know gintoki will be No.1 lol

[anni1309-blog]

please more step brother smut with felix. it was amazing !:)

that’s so kind of you to say, thank you <3

here you go 🎀

felix catton! stepbrother x reader

warnings: smut, face-fucking, slight size kink, semi public

summary : felix is stressed out during exam season and needs relief

felix and you were like royalty at oxford. it’s not like felix’s family lineage isn’t royal anyways. they were always surrounded by a small crowd. some might even call them admirers. it wasn’t hard to love them, always kind and friendly, charming everyone with their beautiful looks.

when someone was looking for felix, you weren’t far either. this was felix’s way to protect and show his love for you. you two weren’t siblings by blood, but that didn’t stop felix from taking care of his baby sister.

sometimes gossip was heard about your close proximity to felix. you would admit that your relationship is definitely closer than most normal stepsiblings might be but your love fell so deep for each other you wouldn’t have it any other way.

lately though, felix grew a little more distant. you knew that the exams were getting to him, he was always so determined. you would only see him when at night he would sneak you into his dorm, pulling a blanket over you while holding you close and softly stroking your hair while you would cling onto him placing your head on his chest. you missed him, more than you would admit. his heart broke knowing he had less time for you, he yearned for your touch, your giggle and your adorable smile when you sat in his lap during break. but he couldn’t have any distractions from studying.

when you woke up the bed was empty. this was your breaking point. felix would normally wake you up to give you a little kiss goodbye or at least leave a note. there was none of this today. you bursted out in tears and started sobbing uncontrollably. when you calmed down a bit, you got ready to face felix to pour out your heart. putting on makeup was no use to your red and puffy eyes from crying.

you made your way to the library, which was almost empty since it was still very early in the morning. you found felix sitting in the back, surrounded by books writing down notes.

he looked up “good morning baby, did you have a good-“ he stopped, his initial reaction was that he was happy to see you but his eyebrows furrowed when he saw your distressed expression. he knew he had to make time for you now, so he wordlessly scooted his chair back and opened his arms for you to sit on his lap. you took a seat there and clung to him tightly, which he returned.

“lix, you were gone this morning, and I was all alone, I don’t even see you that often anymore, I- I just miss you so much” you sniff slightly as big tears fall from your eyes.

“shhhh, I know sweetheart, I hate it too, but you know how it is, I’m just very stressed right now” he pulls you close rubbing you back softly cooing quietly for you to calm down a bit, takes your face in his hands as he wipes away your tears with his thumb. he hates seeing his girl like this, it upset him deeply.

felix took your chin between his fingers to tilt you head upwards to slowly capture your lips. this wasn’t new to you two, he kissed you often, also in public, he knew it made you feel safe.

“lix? would it be okay for me to try something to relieve your stress a bit?” your big eyes looked up at him with a small smile as you relaxed a bit.

“sure princess, I’d love that but what do you want t-“ his words got stuck in his throat when you slowly dropped to your knees, already trying to fumble at his belt, opening it.

felix was almost shocked at your plan but obviously wasn’t appalled by your idea. none of you cared that you were in public, people wouldn’t come by until later in the day. your nimble fingers pulled the zipper of his pants down slowly, your lips parting and mouth salivating in anticipation.

he caressed your cheek with his thumb looking down at you with soft but hungry eyes, signaling that you could do whatever you felt comfortable with. as you continue undressing his pants his fingers were back at your face, his thumb brushing over your wet bottom lip and pushed his digit past your lips and into your mouth, and you sucked greedily.

you slowly pulled his already hardening cock from his underwear, giving his tip soft kitten licks to which he threw back his head in pleasure, brushing your hair, slightly buckling his hips towards your mouth

“you can use my mouth lix, I can handle it, I promise” lapping at his slit and batting your eyelashes up at him innocently.

“you’re gonna be the death of me, doll” he groans at your invitation and didn't waste a second to shove his cock into your mouth, pushing your head down his impressive length.

gurgling and gagging you looked up at him for reassurance that your were doing fine, he slowly started moving his hips, fucking your mouth.

“such a good doll, doing so good f’me” he praised in a deep voice. your doe eyes just looked at him, tears escaping them as he kept diving himself into you thrusting in and out of your mouth quickly and desperately as you moaned around him.

he shifted his hips forward so you could take him further down your throat “such a tiny mouth, taking all of me hm?” he grinned proudly his other hand cupping your jaw and holding your mouth open for him as you choked around him, saliva escaping your mouth.

“you can take it, hm? my good little angel” he grunts looking down at your face tears just streaming down your face now. you hummed happily, the vibrations sending a shock through him that made him twitch and ram his hips forward into your mouth harshly.

“gonna come in your mouth okay doll? you’re gonna be a good girl and swallow it all right?” taking out his dick for you to answer and traced your glossy lips with his tip, your tongue darted out to flick over it and relish in his salty taste as you looked up giving him affirmative nods.

his thrusts became more frantic, feeling close, he lets out a long, gutteral moan, holding your head there as he thrust his hips up feeling your nose press against his pelvis, cumming down your throat.

“I know it’s a lot, be strong,” he groaned as he continued to spout cum, it was so much you thought you might bloat but swallowed all as he pulled off, you were coughing at bit.

you looked wrecked but smiled up at him proudly as he leaned down to kiss your lips softly taking your face in his big hands to admire you.

“what would I do without my favorite girl?”

[everythingne]

christmas in monaco - cl16

You are Charles Leclerc’s best kept secret. Twin of his best friend, a racing prodigy, and his secret girlfriend of two years. The first six months had been secret, just to make sure you’d actually survive a relationship, but then Max said something to Charles that made the idea of ever telling him impossible. So you end up here, half in your brothers apartment half in your soon to be fiancés, trying to celebrate two Christmases in one day.

verstappen!reader x charles leclerc, secret dating/brothers best friend

warnings/notes: cursing, jos is there for a bit in the beginning, poorly translated dutch and french, danny is in red bull bc i said so

next chapter..

-

Warm. That was the best way you could explain the way the bed felt as hot breaths fanned across your chest from the head tucked against your neck. One arm draped across your waist, pulling you closer as you stir and reach up to turn off your phone's alarm. The second arm sleepily comes to wrap around your chest, dragging you back into the warmth of your two year secret.

"No," Charles sighs, eyes still closed as kisses are peppered along your neck and jaw, "Don't go..."

"I have to, Char." You murmur, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you sit up and look at your still very sleepy boyfriend who blinks wearily at you and the sun that halos you, "We don't need Max getting suspicious as to why I'm never home."

"I wish we could tell him." Charles sits up next to you, a hand coming up to fix some loose hairs that were sticking up at odd angles against your head. You didn't answer, just humming. A year and a half ago, during the summer break, you and Charles planned on telling Max. He and Charles got along like a house on fire, there was really no reason you wouldn't have been able to tell your brother about your little blooming relationship.

And then Max had said something to you and Charles, moments before you had planned to tell him, about how you were strictly forbidden from dating any Formula racers. For no specific reason. You had played it off like a joke that night, but once you'd returned to Charles apartment a few nights later you realized just how much your brothers words had affected the both of you.

So, you agreed that night it was (questionably) better to keep it secret.

But Charles and Max knew each other like the backs of their hands. They had been destined from the start to be together, even back in the days of them literally hating each other on the track. You had tagged along with your brother, never driving because of your fathers beliefs, before moving away to live with your mother around the age of fifteen. You and Charles had only reconnected when he debuted in F1, and instantly clicked, even before he and Max did.

Somehow through the busyness of your brothers seasons, he had been distracted long enough for him to not catch on. It was even better when you had moved in with him in Monaco and established a good, core friend group you used as your excuse most times. All of them knew if Max called and asked, to say you guys were together last night since you told them every time you went to go see Charles. It felt foolproof.

“You really have to go?” Charles whines, sitting up finally and stretching his shoulder out, “You can’t stay for breakfast or anything?”

Humming out a maybe as you check the time, you roll to your side and then curse, giving Charles a quick peck on the lips before shoving him off of you and down onto the bed. He crashes amongst the blankets and such tangled together from the way you both toss and turn, nearly whacking his head on the headboard as you scamper to your feet and the cool breeze through the window makes goosebumps run along your skin. Leaning down, you grab your jean shorts off the floor and a hoodie you think is one of Charles' old ones you'd been wearing around.

“Ow?!” his voice echoes behind you and you throw a sorry over your shoulder, scrambling to find your bag and other items in his apartment. Half of your life was here, so you were able to find a spare pair of your socks in his drawer.

Getting to his feet, Charles grabs his shirt from the floor and tugs it over his head as he asks, “What is happening?"

“My dad is visiting today and I forgot I had to leave early!" You curse, jumping to slip on one of your sneakers and bending to fix the parts of the shoe that fold under your heel, "Fuck fuck fuck—!”

"Jos?" He inquires, pausing mid movement to scrunch his face at you. As far as Charles was aware, you and Max had some sort of huge blow up fight with your father and now you both no longer spoke to him.

"No, Charlie, my secret second father." You deadpan, turning around as you toss your bag over one shoulder, "Yes, Jos! Who else?!"

"Sorry!" He apologizes and comes besides you to give you a kiss to your hairline as he wipes a bit of fallen makeup off your cheek, "I thought he wasn't visiting this year?"

You know he means to say, I thought you and Max emancipated from him.

"I thought the same." You huff as you step back from his grasp to find your car keys on the bedside table.

He knows you mean to say, Max can't say no to him. It's a problem.

Charles just hums in response, and when you throw your purse over his shoulder and capture his lips in a quick goodbye kiss before rushing out of his apartment, a small smile peeks across his lips. Soles squeaking in the dew covered grass, you make your way to your parked car. Searching the streets as you walk and dipping between two cars when a guy who slightly looks like he could be Max passes, and then you continue down the road.

Monaco was small. It was a little country, beautiful and bursting at the seams with life, but still so small. So, seeing Max, especially if you were out and about, was likely. Every precaution was taken, and luckily your best friend Jolie lived in the apartment building next to Charles', so you could just park your car there to not raise suspicions.

Getting in your car you slam the door, cursing when you see the missed calls and messages from Max.

And... Daniel?

"I'm back!" You shout, shutting the front door and taking off your shoes and setting them on the shoe rack as you walk in. There's a tense feeling in the apartment and you set your backpack on the ground as Jos smiles.

"Ah, Y/n, how are you?" He says and you cross the room to give your father a quick hug.

"Fine fine, I slept in on accident, otherwise I would've gone with Max to get you at the airport." You sit on the couch next to Max, who's jaw is locked tighter than you've seen it before. The two of you share a look of 'why is this guy here' before your father waves off your words.

"It's fine, how's the degree going?"

"Good good, I'm working on finishing up my degree in Sports Management right now. Charles has been trying to set me up with an internship for Ferrari since Red Bull filled their internships for the season already." You cross one leg over the other and your father nods. Luckily your able to hold civil conversation with him until he takes a rideshare back to the airport. You and Max groan, flopping down on the couches as soon as he's gone and you bury your head in your hands. A typical Verstappen household afternoon.

-

It's fucking hot in Abu Dhabi. Though not as bad as Qatar, you're still sweating through your thin sundress. Wandering into Red Bull's paddock you're greeted by your brother, and then quite literally--and not anyway discreetly, escorted to the drivers room by none other than Daniel Ricciardo who claims he has a sports management question for you.

You know it's not about sports management when he locks the door to the drivers room and turns to you with eyes wide, mouth open in some sort of half grin half shocked expression.

"Charles fucking Leclerc?!" He hisses when you make a vague motion for him to explain and a groan leaves your throat involuntarily. You had been so safe for two years and of course it's Daniel of all people who figures it out. The only other guy who your brother trusts with his life.

"Danny you can't say anything, also why were you even in Monaco?" You snap back, poking Daniel in his throat right above his Red Bull logo on the collar of the fireproofs, your nail digging into the skin there.

"I was stopping by for media stuff," He puts his hands up, stepping back from you, "and how about you answer my question about Charles?"

"I was just--there?" You try and Daniel crosses his arms and looks at you with the most incredulous look in his eyes, head cocked and everything as he laughs.

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Well, I--augh, okay," You groan, sitting on the back of the couch in the drivers room, "this isn't exactly easy to say. I'm kinda not trying to tell my brother about this?"

"Woah woah, Max doesn't know?" If Daniel could look more shocked at this point, he does.

"No and he can't know because he'd kill Charles." Your voice is small, frustratedly bringing heat to your cheeks. Other than your small group of friends from Monaco, and some from back home, you hadn't told anyone about this yet, "Do you promise you won't say anything?"

"I can pretend I saw nothing if that will make you feel better?" Daniel offers and you shake your head curling your hand around the edge of the dress you wear.

"Charles and I..." You huff, crossing your ankles, "have been dating for... two years now? I practically live at his apartment in Monaco when I'm not with Max and Kelly. And Max, apparently, doesn't want me dating any drivers so we... can't exactly... tell Max."

"Two and a half years? You've kept this a secret for two and half years and I'm the one who figured it out?" Daniel scoffs, "Honestly, Y/n, I'm impressed."

"Thanks? But I... I don't know what to do, Danny! We wanna tell Max so bad, but if I do I risk ruining everything!" You bury your head in your hands, groaning, "I can't lose Charles, but I can't lose Max either."

"Do you really think Max was serious about that rule?" Daniel asks, sitting next to you, "Because you're a fully grown adult, so like... how much control does he really have over who you date?"

"Well, I am viewed as an extension of my brother so therefore he gets a bit of a say. And if people find out the baby sister of Max Verstappen is dating Charles Leclerc?"

"Point taken." Daniel hums, "Media nightmare."

"Yep." You stand, pacing the room as you talk with your hands, something you'd picked up from Charles at some point, "there have been a thousand times I've wanted to say something! Thousands! Everytime the two of them are together, I can't ever imagine Max being upset about it. But then I get that little gnawing feeling in my gut. I just... can't do it. Because... if I do, and it ends in disaster, I don't know if I'll be able to handle it."

"And if it doesn't end in disaster?" Daniel inquires after you pause. You turn slowly to face him, watching as he tilts his head to further push his question. You've dreamed of it. Finally being able to tell Max everything about it, Charles had made it clear to you he was itching to tell his practical best friend too, and it would clear the main argument you and Charles had.

You laugh, "I'd be the happiest person alive."

--

y/nverstappen made a new post !

liked by maxverstappen, danielricciardo, lewishamilton, and 238k others...

y/nverstappen: mon nounours <3 j'adore les fêtes

maxverstappen: who?????

⤷ maxverstappen: also when the fuck did you learn french?

⤷ y/nverstappen: i have a tutor or two

user1: omg baby verstappen has a boy???

danielricciardo: 'i can't say anything' and yet u CAN post that. ITS NOT EVEN SNEAKY??

⤷ y/nverstappen: a moment of weakness i admit. ALSO YES THE FUCK IT IS DANIEL

⤷ user2: danny tell us what u know

charlesleclerc: babys first rolex?

⤷ y/nverstappen: im too afraid to wear it !! i dont want it to break or get lost or stolen 😵‍💫

lewishamilton: rolex + bracelet combo perfection

user3: i need to know who shes dating.

charlesleclerc made a new post!

liked by y/nverstappen, arthurleclerc, danielricciardo, and 289k more...

charlesleclerc: deux ans de toi, mon étoile. pour toujours.

maxverstapen: two years?? and I don't know her???

⤷ charlesleclerc: look i can keep a secret, surprisingly.

danielricciardo: good man

user1: CHARLES SOFT LAUNCH???

arthurleclerc: oh so you left out the part where you've been dating her FOR TWO YEARS??? CHARLES???

⤷ charlesleclerc: oops !

user4: 'two years of you, my star. forever' im going to SCREAM

liked by charlesleclerc

carlossainz: am i allowed to say who she is yet?

⤷ charlesleclerc: no and i still owe you for not locking the door

⤷ user2: HELP???

⤷ user3: poor carlos has been scarred for life.

⤷ carlossainz: honestly it was kinda funny

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Rainy Season - Part 3

Storm Warning

Azriel Eris x Reader

We’ve got a time jump and are swapping points of view for this chapter y’all.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

3 months later

Eris Vanserra hated the Summer Court. The humidity anywhere outside of the temperature regulated zones of Adriata, the way his hair clung to his forehead and caused curls to form in his otherwise immaculate hair, but most of all it was just insulting to be so bothered by the heat itself when he quite literally had fire in his veins. He couldn’t get out of here fast enough.

Tarquin strode alongside Eris through the open air lower levels of his keep, three of his guards and two of Eris’ own flanking them several feet behind, one could almost forget they were there if not for the “click clack” of feet echoing through the halls. Eris would be lying if he said he didn’t have to try very hard to focus on the mundane talk of trade routes and port authorities instead of getting lost to the sounds of crashing waves and gulls outside.

Tarquin broached the riveting subject of tariffs on imports from the continent as the first rumble of thunder boomed in the distance. Now that - Eris enjoyed that aspect of the court. Autumn had no shortage of rain but the turbulence of storms often mirrored his own inner peril - made him feel less alone in the world. And truthfully, there was nothing like taking cover from the rain and listening to the rumble outside, watching the lightning dance across the skies as the loud cracks of thunder commanded the attention of anyone within earshot.

“Have your people felt the same effects, High Lord?” Tarquin broke Eris from yet another drift of his thoughts. He really should have brought a secretary or advisor along for this meeting.

Sparing Eris from the embarrassment of asking Tarquin to repeat his last three minutes of speech a cry broke through the hall. The battle cry of a…. Child?

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Followed by a yelp of “ow!”

Eris’ head jerked as he found himself drifting toward the action.

Turning a corner he found a woman laying on the ground, curled into a ball - a child of no more than 10 with a large jagged stick standing over her with his chest puffed out, pure smug joy on his face.

Eris looked to Tarquin who only grinned with satisfaction. Eris gaped before Tarquin quietly whispered, “just watch.”

The woman didn’t move. The child’s look of satisfaction slowly turning to that of concern as she lay there. He bent over the woman placing a hand on her shoulder, his brows knit together. “Lady L/N?”

So focused on the woman on the ground before him, the boy didn’t notice her arm slowly sneak around him and “Oof!” The kid let out a startled breath as she grabbed his ankle, ripping it out from beneath him, effectively leaving the child on his behind.

The female lept up into a crouching position. Her tanned, muscled thighs pushing her up to stand effortlessly. “And that, little ones, is why you never let your guard down with an adversary.”

Eris turned, wondering how he could have missed the group of children sitting on the other end of the room watching the scene unfold.

The boy remained on his behind, hands resting on his forehead in defeat.

“Hey-“ She reached a hand out to help him up. “You did a great job. You quite literally swept me off my feet! Nobody has done that in quite some time.” She paused, sadness twisting her features as if her own words struck her before shifting back to that of a proud instructor. “In fact - I have something for you.”

She reached into the pocket of her calf-length, flowy pants and reaching handing him a shell. “Add this to your leather strap.” She tapped a leather bracelet on his wrist, one shell already strung on it. “You did great, kid.” The boy gave her a genuine smile as he returned to the rest of his classmates.

Eris shifted involuntarily. How much had he wished for someone to say those words to him when he was a child?

Tarquin chuckled “An excellent motivator. Shells. Who knew?”

Eris gave a small smile - brief but genuine before adjusting back into his usual mask. The instructor turned to face them and cauldron damn him if she wasn’t the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. Radiant skin that came from plenty of time in the sun, silky hair that practically begged to have fingers run through it, a soft and curvy yet toned build. A body that told him she indulged herself in what she enjoyed but was active enough to define her plush features, likely blessed with great genetics - lithe yet perfectly squeezable in all his favorite places.

“High Lord.” Her voice carried to him like an ocean breeze. She bowed her head in a respectful greeting, long lashes fluttering. “How may I be of service?”

“Lady L/N,” Tarquin beamed. “It’s a pleasure to introduce you to Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court.”

Her brow puzzled for a brief moment before bowing her head again. “It’s an honor to meet you, High Lord.”

“A pleasure to meet you as well, lady.” Eris replied sincerely, meeting her bright eyes. “I didn’t realize Tarquin was hoarding such beauty within his keep.”

“We have many treasures in our court, High Lord. She is one of our brightest.”

Rather than blushing, the female held her head high, giving a polite “Thank you, High Lord.”

“We must be getting to lunch now. Have a pleasant rest of your class, Lady L/N.” He turned to the children with a stern look “And children, behave for her.” following the reminder with a smile and cheeky wink.

—————

It was hours later that Eris was released from meetings for the day. Unfortunately, there was still more to be discussed that would have to wait for tomorrow. Making the way to his guest suite, Eris found himself wondering about the instructor from earlier. Something about her felt vaguely familiar but he couldn’t quite place it.

After changing out of his stuffy clothes into something more befitting of the climate, Eris paced his room. He’d forgotten how much longer daylight lasted here than in his own court, with several hours remaining before dusk. He supposed he could brave the heat and take a stroll through the palace grounds, preferably without his entourage of guards.

Relieving the pair from their duties, Eris wandered through the gardens and toward a small grove of trees on the other side of the palace grounds. He could hear running water from a garden tributary that likely connected into the river that emptied into Adriata’s harbor.

Sauntering through the grove, he was pleased to find reprieve from the heat, the cool air wafting off of the stream and shade from the trees turning the grove into a private oasis. It wasn’t particularly trekked through. “Finally.” he thought to himself. A moment of peace.

Situating himself on an iron bench, Eris looked up, only to find that through a thicket of cattails, Lady L/N was standing on a rock upstream, eyes closed and balancing on one leg. Given her steady, intentional breathing he supposed she was meditating. It was odd - seeing her like this - strangely intimate to see someone in such an isolated state of catharsis, unaware of his own presence before her. The sun rays shone through cracks in the leaves, shrouding her in tiny fragments of light that made her tanned skin near golden. Her hair was wind blown from the breeze winding through the grove off the ocean, and she’d changed into a thin cotton sundress. Gods, maybe the Summer Court wasn’t so bad after all. The way it effortlessly flowed over her body perfectly accentuating her ample curves, and those tanned, toned legs - yeah, he should probably leave.

After momentary internal warring he began to stand but before he could sneak off, she gasped. Clutching her arms to her rib cage. “MOTHER FUCKER!” she screamed. Vulgar words coming from such a pretty mouth.

What an interesting method of meditation.

She took several breaths before resuming her position. Another minute went by when she audibly growled. “Bastard!!” She clutched herself again, keeling over. Finally she sat down on the rock, the hem of her dress soaking in the stream’s rippling water, and pressed her head into her hands. Eris thought she was crying.

He really should leave but - memories of his mother crying over the years flashed into his mind. All the years that she only had he or Lucien to console her, kindered spirits brought together by Beron’s casual cruelty. His other brothers being the emotionally void carbon copies of their father they were, paid no mind to their mother’s plight.

Yet still, he didn’t know her. She didn’t know him. She likely didn’t want him bothering her.

Against his better judgement, he found himself drawn in by her familiarity and approached. As he drew closer, he realized her sobs were not sobs at all. She was muttering the raunchiest, most vile slew of curses that he’d ever heard. Lucien would enjoy this female.

As he approached, she jerked her head up. The lovely, collected face from earlier twisted into one of contempt. He wondered if she knew that, that face was, well, adorable like a fierce little kitten. Although, something told him to tread carefully. She may look adorable but he’d bet good coin that her bite matched that of a lions.

“What do you want?” She spat.

Eris only smirked. “And here I thought you were a lady.”

Baiting her. Genius idea, Eris.

“Only within the palace.”

“You’re still on palace grounds.” Shrugging with the statement, Eris put his hands in his pockets - damn these Summer Court linens really were comfortable.

“Well, I was alone until you intruded.” she murmured, not meeting his eyes.

“Did you win Tarquin’s good graces with such manners?”

Her expression filled with ire as she looked up at him. “Did you take your throne by being such a prick?”

Eris couldn’t help but laugh at her bravado. This female either REALLY didn’t like him or truly didn’t care about consequences. “Ah, so you do know who I am.”

“You’re a High Lord. Of course I know-“

Her words cut off as she clutched her ribs again, tighter this time. A shudder escaping her. This time the pain seemed to last longer. And this time he could have sworn her voice cracked as she swore.

“Hey” Eris stepped into the creek, not bothering to step out of his sandals. Before he could hesitate he crouched down before her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Breathe.”

The thing was, he recognized that pain well. It has been centuries but damn he remembered it so clearly.

“Breathe through it. Think of something that makes you smile.”

She clutched herself harder, shaking her head. “Think of the look on your student’s face when you gave him that shell today.”

She breathed in deeply this time instead of letting out another curse.

“Good. Hold for three beats.”

“Now let the breath out.”

She breathed out. “In again.” He instructed. She followed suit. “Now out.”

As her breath steadied, she met his eyes - momentarily soft, a little broken, before ire crossed them again.

“For fucks sake, High Lord.” She spat. “I came here to meditate. I know how to breathe.”

She sure as shit seemed to have forgotten how to for a moment there, but he kept that to himself.

He only let out a soft laugh.

“There she is.”

She scowled in return.

“So, Lady L/N” he began, standing and extending a hand to help her up.

“Y/N.” She interjected, taking his hand. “Call me Y/N.”

Y/N. Fitting, he thought. The kind of name a tropical storm would be given.

Wait. Y/N L/N. Oh, he knew exactly why she was so familiar now. No wonder she’d given him that puzzled look in the palace. And, if Eris recalled correctly, his brother actually was rather fond of her - in a friendly and platonic sort of way. Though in his tales of the Night Court he’d certainly never mentioned the fact that she looked like a gods damned deity.

He led her out of the creek, not quite ready to drop her delicate hand. “So, Y/N, tell me about this idiot mate that let the Summer Court’s brightest treasure go.”

She gaped, jaw dropping into a look of genuine shock. “How-“

“I had one too. I believe you know her.”

—————

Eris and Y/N spent hours talking in the grove. He gave her all the details of his mate, Morrigan. How it killed him to leave her that fated day. Had he touched her, his mate, Beron would have claimed her as Autumn Court property requiring a Blood Duel for the Night Court to retrieve her. Though, Beron would have ensured she never left unharmed. That aside, Eris didn’t want that blood on her hands, the blood of a blood duel or any battles over her. He didn’t want it on his hands either. It killed him to feel her pain down the bond starting from their forced engagement and through the torture her father had inflicted upon her, and the trauma that lingered thereafter. The gut-wrenching, immobilizing pain that only a mate could feel shooting through to them.

He never wanted her to feel that pain. If it hurt him that badly to only feel it down the bond, he couldn’t imagine the strife she’d felt. He wanted to run to her, to comfort her, to tell her everything he couldn’t risk saying. He was too young to face the ramifications from his father and he had his mother and Lucien to protect in those days. So he protected her in the only way he knew how to at the time. Through cold, calculated indifference. He still regretted it.

As time went on, the mask he wore became heavier and heavier, burying that bond deeper within himself. It took him until after the war with Hybern to finally lay it all out to her. Y/N never knew any of that part of the story. She knew Mor and Eris had made amends but nothing of their bond, and she knew that Mor was happily committed to Emerie, an Illyrian female now. He was happy for his mate, as happy as a rejected mate could be.

Eris never claimed to have been in the right. In fact, what he did to Mor was wrong. The way he spoke to her as if she was no more than a common whore when facing her in front of his father at the High Lord’s meeting. Yes, it was an act but it was never okay. He’d live with that for the rest of his days. His apologies to her since never felt like enough.

Y/N empathized with Eris. He could see that she was torn but her gaze toward him softened although, never into that of pity. He liked that about her.

She shared the story of her mating bond with Azriel. And how the waves of anger and grief down the bond had increased in strength recently as she had continued healing. She laughed bitterly at the typical trajectory of females in her situation getting better over time while unfaithful males seemed to spiral as it went on. She didn’t say who he had cheated on her with but Eris had his suspicions. The Shadowsinger apparently had a thing for Vanserra mates. She laughed and cried over the hours they talked. They’d eventually ended up back in a palace seating area for a drink.

Eris hadn’t been so open with someone like this in so long that it felt foreign. Hell, opening up always felt unnatural for him. Perhaps he was stupid for sharing with her. After all, mating bonds could make people do crazy things. She could always take Azriel back and share the details of his little sob stories with the Night Court.

She’d occasionally let out a sharp breath as small jolts of emotion came rolling in. It was nearing dusk when she finally huffed, slapping her hands on her thighs saying, “Enough! This tea is weak. I need something stronger.” Pouring them each a glass of brandy, and another, and another.

As the conversation shifted from the heavier topics to lighter ones, Eris let it slip that he wasn’t fond of the summer court and found all of the sand and humidity to be unpleasant at best.

Her inhibitions were down and if Eris were being honest with himself, his were too. He hadn’t drank much since becoming a High Lord though he often felt the need for a stiff drink. No, there was too much work to be done and he was still getting his own inner circle acclimated. Trust was harder to give in the Autumn Court, especially after being under his father’s rule for so long. There were plenty of good people in the castle but just as many were corrupted under Beron’s rule. Weeding them out was consuming more of his time than anticipated.

Somehow, after their fourth drink, Y/N dragged him out onto the beach, determined to show him all the merits of the crusty, sand-infested shores.

Admittedly, her joy was contagious but he was going to make her work for any positive reaction.

“Okay!” She eagerly squealed. “First - sand castles! Have you ever built one?”

“I live in a castle.” Eris feigned boredom, inspecting his nails. “It seems unnecessary to build one out of… that.” his nose scrunched up, lip curling into a sneer as he gestured to the sand surrounding them.

“Ughhh.” Her eyes rolled back into her head as her little sun dress blew in the wind. And damn if he wouldn’t love to see her eyes going back into her head like that in other circumstances.

He was a gentlemale but a male nevertheless.

“Being High Lord doesn’t mean you have to be such a bore, but fine… No sand castles. Maybe next time!”

Next time. He liked the thought of that. My how far she’d come from practically snarling at him just this morning.

“Look!” She squealed, bringing her hands to her chest and clapping with excitement. “Dolphins! Now I know you don’t have those in the Autumn Court, Eris Vanserra.”

Fuck, his name sounded so good coming off of her lips.

He couldn’t resist smiling at her enthusiasm and then at the dolphins. They swam so peacefully in a pod through the harbor. One even let a young water wraith trail alongside it as a hand carefully gripped onto its dorsal fin as the creature pulled her along.

“The wraiths and dolphins coexist well together.” Y/N mused wistfully. “There’s a common misconception that they are territorial due to food supply but they have plenty in the harbor.”

She smiled softly. “The younger wraiths tend to bond with them and the dolphins have even been known to protect them from certain dangers.”

As the pair continued walking along the shore, the conversation occasionally faltered as Y/N would stare off distantly, as if looking for something that wasn’t there.

His heart ached for her. From what he’d gathered during their talk, she’d left the Shadowsinger, but the heart is slow to heal after losing a mate in any capacity.

Eris nudged her with his shoulder. “Hey little minx, where’d you go?”

Coming back to reality she halted. “Oh! Oh my gods. The sun is setting and you have to come with me! Hurry.”

She grabbed his wrist and he didn’t hesitate to follow along as she all but dragged him down the beach. “Hurry! We’ll miss them!”

They ran until reaching a secluded inlet of the bay. They climbed up a small rocky ledge where she sat, dangling her feet over the edge. “There’s an underwater cave-“ she breathed heavy, catching her breath. “here, beneath us and every night-“ another pause to breathe. “something magical happens as the sun sets.”

Eris, catching his own breath, waited patiently for more details but she only dropped a small pebble into the water and as she did, a rainbow of luminescent fish rippled to life below the surface. There had to be thousands of them, leisurely swimming out of the cave as if they were just waking up. Shades of bright pink, green, blue, orange, and purple lit up the small inlet. Eris was awestruck, so awestruck in fact that he didn’t hesitate planting his ass next to her on the crusty sand-coated ledge.

With a wave of her wrist she pulled a bottle of rum out from the pocket realm, tugging the cork out with her teeth and taking a swig, then handing it over to him.

They sat in silence as the remaining fish left the inlet and the remaining colors of the sunset disappeared into night. Clouds began rolling in as they drank and began chatting again. Much like that morning, thunder rolled in but this time he was disappointed to hear it. He didn’t want the evening to end, wasn’t ready to let her go quite yet.

He wished he’d had a warning before the ocean winds blew this wild, beautiful storm into his life that morning. Something to brace himself against the inevitable fallout of the precarious situation he found himself in. It was a storm he was prepared to ride out and he had a feeling it would be worth whatever debris she’d leave him with.

The base of the distant thunder rumbling, the cymbal-like crash of waves on the shore, and singing of the creatures of summer nights blended together into a beautiful melody that flowed through Eris. Quickly he stood, extending a hand to her. “Dance with me, Y/N?”

She froze, that distant look crossing her eyes again for a second. He braced himself for her decline but the life returned to her eyes as a smile graced her full lips. She accepted his hand and didn’t hesitate as he tucked her into his chest, her warmth and scent lulling him into a state of bliss.

No, Eris Vanserra did not hate the Summer Court at all.

————————

This was a long one and I know it wasn’t from our girls POV but I hope you all enjoyed it 🥹 Stay tuned for more! Her story is not done yet.

Tags:

@going-through-shit @kalulakunundrum @lisanna2000 @fxckmiup @sheblogs @emryb @one-big-fangirl @historygeekqueen @isa1b2h3 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @theravenphoenix26 @sidthedollface2 @i-am-infinite @caraaaaugh @evergreenlark @darkbloodsly @piceous21 @anxious-study

[myers-meadow]

Chance meetings: Tommy Shelby x reader

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader.

Summary: As you attend a wedding of the family, you meet an interesting man. He keeps popping up in your life. Maybe there's something there, something between you? AKA You share a kiss in the stables. This is firmly set in season 1.

Part two here.

Warnings: none. Safe for work.

Word count: over 2k

This is my first time writing for Tommy and the Peaky Blinders! English is not my native language, I hope I did ok! Feedback, comments and reblogs are very welcome <3. Dividers by @saradika-graphics (thank u for all u do for fandom <3)

You may not have known who John Shelby was, but when you were invited for the wedding through your best friend, you didn't hesitate to go. A wedding was a wedding, after all, and you loved them. The getting pretty, the dress, the vows, the ceremony of the mingling blood, the food, the dancing... Oh, the dancing!

You were more jaded than your sisters by far, as you were the oldest, and still unwed in your twenties, but that didn't deter you from the topic of love. When you saw the looks the couple gave each other during the ceremony, and the tension in the air was tight-strung, it was easy to deduce this wasn't a marriage of love. But it could be, you told yourself. There is all the time in the world for love to blossom. Weddings were so beautiful, and you watched as the ceremony turned into the party. Helping the other women with serving drinks and food, the time flew by.

"I just love weddings," sighed one of the Shelby's to you, a young woman, as you handed her a drink.

"Me too," you responded, politely, not expecting further conversation. The way she looked at you made you halt.

"Are you married? I see no ring." Before you could answer, she downed the drink in one go, and continued. "I am. We got married in secret. He said I looked like an angel..."

"He's lucky to have you, in secret or not," you responded.

A worried frown crossed her face. "My brothers hate him. Or; they'd rather have him not be part of the family."

"Why is that?"

She shook her head, refilled her own glass and took a good drink. "And now they're marrying John off to solve some political dispute I'm sure. They never tell us women anything, do they?"

She needed to vent, you let her speak.

"I wore the most beautiful dress... Matching white lacquered shoes... It was-" She interrupted herself to finish her drink.

As she went for the bottle, you stopped her. "Love, not so quick. Maybe have a dance, first. If your love ain't here, there's a dozen handsome men willing to stand in, I'm sure."

Her eyes turned fierce as you held onto the bottle, not handing it over to her. "You can't refuse me. Do you know who I am? I'm a Shelby."

A man stepped closer, hands in his pockets. "I thought you were a Thorne, now."

That was how you met Thomas Shelby.

Just like Ada, her brother Thomas was used to getting what he wanted. A little later on in the evening, the sun had set, you topped off his glass. He stopped you from moving on to the next empty glass, with the flick of his fingers, gesturing to the empty seat next to him. The smoke from his cigarette curled upwards, to the bare night sky.

"Sit. Join me." His words were spoken softly, but with an authoritative edge that made you do as he said, more curious than anything.

"Mr. Shelby, right?" you asked, with an eyebrow raised.

He set his glass down on the table, took the bottle of whiskey from him, plucked an empty glass from the table, and poured it neatly half full. He handed it to you. The drink was cold against your palm. "A toast. To the newlyweds." He didn't even really smile, but you clinked your glass against his and took a sip.

"To the newlyweds, may their union be one blessed with joy and laughter."

Thomas brought the cigarette to his lips, and the two of you simply sat, staring at the other. It felt like he noticed a great deal about you, from the way you wore your hair, how you fidgeted with your lace cardigan, to how you suppressed your wince at the sharpness of the drink. He was breathtaking in the flickering light of the campfire nearby, it danced over his face, highlighting the sharpness of his features. Yet his lips were plump, and you tore your eyes away before you could get any ideas.

"Cigarette?" he asked, already finding the case in his jacket pocket. He lit your cigarette for you like a gentleman and the drag you took was perhaps the first time you breathed properly in his company. "You're not a Lee I know. Are you a friend of the family? Recently married into it?"

"A friend, as of yet unmarried," you say, eyes dancing over his handsome face. Laughter sounds as the music takes a more upbeat turn. "If I'm no longer doing the whiskey rounds, I'd like to dance. It's a wedding after all. Will you join me, Mr. Shelby?"

He laughed softly, rubbing his face with his free hand. "Well, why don't we, hm?" And he stood up to follow after you.

You hadn't expected to see Thomas again, not at all. It felt like a magical night, one of few in your life. One you had to make count, somehow. That's why you dared press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, before making off to your wagon at the edge of the Lees territory. Yet you did, as you followed your brother into an unsuspecting pub in Birmingham. It was by a street with factories, and workers did their work. It smelt of burnt coal and ashes.

The pub was a welcome change in temperature, as it was cold outside. Your brother, Edwin, was here on some business or the other, and you came with him purely to have a change of scenery. Or rather, that is what you'd tell anyone who asked. Rather, as the oldest, you felt you needed to keep an eye on him, to make sure he didn't get in any trouble he couldn't handle. He was rather prone to that after dad died, but it was no matter to consider, as the two of you entered the pub. It smelled of smoke, stale drink, and of wood varnish. It was after dinner, so the pub was gradually filling up with patrons, their chatter a comforting sound.

"Thank you for coming. In here," said the man you were meeting, Arthur, and he lead you to a room to the side, shutting the door behind you. Another younger man was already seated, a toothpick pressed between his lips. Another man stood to the side, leaning against the wall, and you startled as recognition hit you.

"Mr. Shelby," you greeted, nodding. "Pleasure to run into you again."

Edwin sent you a look, one that meant 'we will discuss this later', so you immediately straightened your attitude to betray no memory of that night. Thomas sent you a fond nod, and you quickly averted your eyes to avoid staring. Yet your heart leapt in your chest - what a chance to see the intruiging man from the wedding again!

"Have a seat," Arthur said, as he sat down himself. Edwin and you took a booth seat. You nodded politely to the younger one. A barmaid, blonde, came in and set down glasses in front of each of you, and left a bottle on the table. Arthur rubbed his hands. "Let's talk business, then. About those prize horses..."

Their talk and their deal went well, but you found your mind wandering off, your gaze drawn by Thomas' chiselled features. He looked harsher today, in this light, more serious. Perhaps he was softened by the wedding, by being off the clock, last time. Yet, the weight of his gaze bore down on you as the meeting went on.

When the hands were shaken, and the deal was made, his smooth voice shook you from your thoughts.

"Let me get you a drink," he mumbled, too low for your brother who was still talking with Arthur, to hear. He lead you to the bar, where a barman with a white tea towel over his shoulder was wiping glasses clean. The young women from before tended tables. "Whiskey?"

At this point, you'd agree to anything, so you nod. He ordered for you, and he clinked his glass against yours much like that first time.

"What are we toasting to?" you asked.

He looked around, leading you to a quieter corner of the pub with a hand on the small of your back, half a smile tugging at his lips. "Those beautiful racing horses you're selling to us."

"Family business," you grimace as the whiskey burns its way down your throat. Tommy nodded, deft fingers finding the cigarette case in his jacket pocket, he offered you one, before pressing one between his own lips. The flame from the match sizzles as he struck it, and you inhale sharply.

"So, this is Birmingham." you concluded, a bit of a tease. "The factories seem busy, is it like that every day?"

He nodded, regarding you with the patience of a large cat. "Every day. I like the noise, keeps the mind silent. And you, what do you do? Sell horses?"

"I take care of the horses. Edwin sells them." You fiddled with the cigarette, tapping off the ashes. "Sometimes he lets me come along to vet if the people will take good care of them. Just based on feeling, though. I'll only see the stables when we bring them over."

Tommy put the matchbox back in his pocket, leaning forward. "You wanna see the stables? Come on, I'll show you."

In hindsight, you weren't sure what made you follow him unquestioningly - out of the pub, with as little as a wave to Edwin. Your brother grabbed your arm.

"Where d'you think you're headed, girl?"

Tommy answered for you. "I'm showing 'er the horses, so she can rest easy knowing we take good care of 'em."

A short silence fell, the authoritative stare Tommy gave Edwin hung like tension in the air. It felt like he was challenging him, and Edwin didn't protest again when Tommy led you out of the pub.

It was a bit of a walk, and Tommy kept a steady pace. You two chatted idly, about the city, about growing up Roma, about how John and his new wife were doing. Then, you arrived just outside the city, where the stables were, right next to the train tracks.

"Do the trains not startle the horses?" you question, as you look around the place. It all seemed pretty good. The smell of hay and of horse hits your nose, a familiar and comforting smell. Stepping inside of the stables, a large black horse (a Frisian?) greeted the pair of you. "What a beauty," you say breathlessly.

"Trains're only in twice a day. Horses get used to it fast. They're smart beasts." He reached out to pet the nose of the animal. "This one is Monaghan Boy. Quite the race winner."

He seemed proud and something swelled in your chest. "He's so big."

"Wanna ride him?" 

You shook your head. "Not today," you laughed, and he smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m not winning any races today,” you joke. As you reached out your hand to let the horse smell you, another man entered the barn.

"Tommy, what are you doin' out here?" He said gruffly, before he noticed you. His voice softened. "Oh, and a young lady, hello."

"Uncle Charlie," Tommy said, jovially, "This is y/n, her and her brother are selling us some horses. She wanted to make sure they'll be well taken care off. Y/n, this is the man who takes care of the horses for us."

Charlie smiled. His face was drawn by years of hard work in the open air, and perhaps by war, you thought as you shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, Charlie. I look forward to a good partnership from now on."

"Then I'll leave you two it," he said, with another look between the two of you. Monaghan Boy neighed in agreement. He left, leaving the two of you alone again.

"What are you thinking? Up to your standards?" Tommy asked, teasing undertone resting in his deep voice. He walks closer, until he's next to you, next to the big beast. His cologne smells delightful.

You nodded. "Better than I expected, especially for the city. I mean, look at this one," you say full of awe, as Monoghan Boy allows you to slide your hand over his mane. Thomas mimicked your movement, letting his hand rest on yours, intertwining your fingers. 

You turned to him, finding him caging you in against Monaghan Boy's flank.

"Perhaps there's something else you'd rather do than ride a horse, out here?" he whispered, just before his lips touch yours.

“I can think of a thing or two,” and you wrap your arms around his neck.

[fl3shm4id3n]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ɪꜱ ᴄʀᴜᴇʟ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐰 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐄𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ-ᴡɪꜰᴇ!, ʜᴇʟᴀᴇɴᴀ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ)

Tw: SEASON 2 POILERS!! Targ!cest, death of a child, reader is sobber for once, mentions of infidelities, brothels, poor Helaena, comfort from reader, Alicent being a horrible mother, reader and Alicent slap each other, funeral scene, mentions of nudity (if you know, you know), angst with a bit of comfort towards the end.

A/N: Ima start writing again, but before I wanted to write a HOTD fic before going back to writing for the Human Ape Series. Hope ya'll like it.

Masterlist

Ever since Aemond had killed Lucerys Velaryon things had changed. You and him had become distant. You barely talked or even looked each other in the eye. He began going to the brothels and warming the bed of the woman who had 'made him a man'. You hated it. Since then, you've drink day and night, always drunk. Not wanting to be aware of anything. You envied Helaena at times. Wishing your have that innocent oblivion that she was on twenty four seven. You thought life was good, but no. Ever since your sister declared war, everything was no longer the same.

That night, you had sneaked out as many times as you did. Went to the tavern and got drunk off your ass. Till the point of passing out. Hours later, you went back to the castle. Tired, and a growing headache. When you got to your chamber, you saw that it was empty. Aemond must have gone to that wrinkly old whore. You stumbled over and landed on the bed. As soon as you closed your eyes, you fell asleep.

You didn't know how long you've been asleep. You were startled awake by the door being opened. You groaned, sitting up to see who it was. You thought it was your mother, but you saw that it was Helaena. With your niece in her arms. She seemed panicked and confused. You quickly went over and in a corner, holding her child close to her. "Helaena? What's wrong?" You asked, sitting up still trying to wake up. "They killed the boy.." She said, calmly. But you could hear the panic in her voice. You were confused. Not sure on what to do. Despite that, you got up and walked towards her. Getting on your knees, seen the tears threatening to spill from her eyes and the look of her horror in them.

As much as Helaena wasn't a fan of being touched, you couldn't help but wrap your arms around her and your niece. Hugging them close to you. You could feel her panicked breathing against you, as you hugged her. You softly held her and stroked her hair as form of comfort. "It's okay, It'll be okay." You tried to comfort both her and her niece.

The next day, you found out what happened. The rat catcher and his partner had killed her son. Right in front of her. You learned from Helaena that she was the one who told them who the boy was. It must have been horrible for her, specially for her. Everyone believed that Rhaenyra was responsible. They believed that she must have sent someone to kill a child. It made no sense to you. You doubted it was her who'd ask for such horrible act to be done to a child. Specially since she's lost not one but two of her children.

That morning, you had not touched a goblet of wine at all. Just smelling made you sick to your stomach for some odd reason. You resorted into just drinking water that whole time. You were conflicted, not sure on what to say or do. Helaena was devastated and so was your brother Aegon. When Aemond heard of the news, he left. Most likely back to the brothel. To search for his comfort.

You went to check on Helaena, to see how she was doing. When you got close to her room, you couldn't help but hear what Alicent was telling Helaena. "Heleana, what you saw last night when you came into my room-" Alicent was cut off by Helaena who shoved something into her arms. 'This is for my boy." She said, turning away from her and walking away. You stepped, locking eyes with Alicent. You could see the guilt in her eyes. She wasn't trying to comfort her daughter, she was trying to explain to her of something she saw in her room.

You then snatched the bundle of fabrics from Alicent in an aggressive manner. "Get out." You hissed at Alicent, before she could protest you shouted at her. "Out!" You shouted, making Helaena cover hear ears in discomfort. Finally, Alicent had left. Leaving you and your sister alone in her room. "Sorry for yelling." You apologized to her, walking up to her. As she picked up the small toys that belonged to her son in her hands. You couldn't help but look at the bundle of green in your hands. Seen that it was a blanket She had made for her son. It was beautiful.

When you got closer, you didn't know what to say or do. You noticed her Helaena's head was filled with many thoughts. Many stressful thoughts and had no idea what to say or do. You wrapped your arm around her waist and pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry.." You whispered to her. She then turned to face and hugged you tightly. This was something that surprised you. Helaena was not a fan of hugging or being touched, until now. You didn't hesitate in hugging her back. Softly stroking her back, you could feel how her tears began to pour into your shoulder.

She'd began to cry hard against your shoulder. All you did was hold her and allow her to cry onto you hard. Your poor sister, the one who never anything wrong, was the one to pay for your husband's doing.

After a while, you had left Helaena with one of the maid, to make surer she didn't do anything to harm herself in any way. You went to find your mother, who was in her chambers with Sir Criston Cole. When you stepped in, you noticed how he stood up straight as your mother remained seated on her bed, in tears. "Leave us." You told him, he looked at Alicent, which gave him the nod to leave.

Now it was just you and the woman you called mother. "So what happened." You asked her. "Your nephew-" She tried to explain, but you cut her off. "I already know that, what I am asking is. What happened in your room that Helaena wasn't suppose to see?" You asked her again. Alicent had a look of guilt on her face. The same one she had when she was talking to your sister. "It was... It was nothing." She said, making you grow even more suspecious.

"Nothing happened. Yet, instead of consoling your daughter who had witnessed her son getting killed. You were trying to tell her something that happened in your room." You said, making Alicent even more nervous. It got quiet, but you added another sentence. "You know, what I find odd?" You asked, making Alicent look at you. "How there was no guards in the halls, not even Sir Criston Cole was in the halls, guarding like he is suppose to." You said. The guilt was eating Alicent up, you knew you had struck something inside her.

"So, what's that 'nothing' that happened?" you asked her again, you had gone close to her, face to face. You looked down at her, seen her look of horror in her eyes. "Me and Sir Criston.. were. Doing things." She choked up. "Things? What kind of things? Where they that important that you had to do at night?" You asked, clearly pressuring her into telling you more. "We were fucking!" she finally said, almost in fear. All you did was nodded and backed away from her. "You and your sworn sword, were fucking. While your grandson was getting-" Before you could finish, you were cut off.

"Stop it!" She demanded, getting up from her bed and getting close to you. "You don't get to say anything or judge me, while you sneak out into the night and get drunk!" She hissed, making you laugh. "Well, I'm not the one hiding any secrets. Everyone knows that I'm a fucking drunk. Unlike you, I don't have anything you fucking hide." You hissed at her. "Unlike you. Who wants to keep an image and show everyone how perfect you are. You're nothing but a whore, a horrible mother!" You accused, then you felt a sting on your cheek. Alicent had hit right on the cheek. You touched your now red cheek and looked at her. She was breathing heavily, shocked that she had put her hands on you.

Without hesitation, you slapped her right back. You watched as she stumbled back. Giving you a look of shock, as she held her cheek trying to sooth the pain on her cheek. "You really are the worst." You simply said, then you stomped out of her room.

Later that day, things only got worse. Alicent insisted in Helaena and Aegon's son to be dragged down a cart in the city, with you her and poor Helaena. Even though the grieving mother had insisted that she didn't want the citizens close to her. She didn't know them, she didn't care about keeping an image. She only wanted to be alone and grieve in her own way. But no, like always. It had to go Alicent's way.

You wore an all black dress, with a small crown on your head, which had a thin black veil that covered your whole head and face. You sat on Helaena's right and Alicent on her left. While she sat in the middle. The sky was covered with grey clouds, as if. The gods knew about the death of your nephew. The streets and building were crowded with the citizens. They felt for the queen's pain, they chanted their condolences and threw seeds towards the three of you and onto Jaehaerys's body.

Everything felt overwhelming. All eyes were on you three, specially on Helaena. It made her uneasy, you could feel her shifting on her seat. You reached down to hold her hand, as a way to ease her nerves a bit, but that didn't help. She attempted to get up, but she was stopped by Alicent, only making her even more anxious. Helaena's breathing quickened and her movements became more frantic. It didn't help that the wagon which held Jaehaerys seemed to have got stuck. The guards attempted to move the cart, but it was too difficult. The pushing and shaking caused Jaehaerys to move violently. That was what did it for Helaena. She needed and wanted to get out of there.

You quickly got up from the wagon and took Helaena's hand, without hesitation she followed you. Alicent was right behind us, trying to get us to stop by trying to grab Helaena, but she couldn't since you and her were both running away from all that chaos happening in the street.

Finally, you and your sister had got to the castle, you both slightly calmer, but you could still see Helaena's panicked state. you continued to hold her hand, as you walked up the stairs. As you walked up the steps, you saw Aegon, coming out of hall with a few men behind him. You, him and you sister locked eyes with each other. But didn't say a word, Aegon went on his way. So did you and Helaena, quickly, you both walked back up the stairs, into Helaena's room.

That night, you were finally in your private chambers. You were with Helaena all evening until she fell asleep. You wanted stay with her, but you also gave her space. You were still wearing the black dress and the small crown on your head. You sat in your bed, trying to process what happened today. It was complete chaos, specially for your poor sister. Who had suffered enough, yet, your mother still pushed for your sister to make a public appearance. Despite he protest.

You reached up and took off the crown from your head, placing it on the bed. You had no idea what to do, or say. A lot had happened the last few weeks. If only you could do something, but what could you do? Nothing, you couldn't do anything. You felt helpless, if only youo haven't left that night, maybe things would have been different. Maybe Jaehaerys would be alive or the men responsible would serve justice.

While you remained in your train of thought, you heard your door open. Having you snap back into reality. You turned to see who it was. Your husband, except. He was naked, the only thing that covered him was a black cloak. Without warning, he had the rob fall down and pull at his feet, revealing himself to you. You didn't say anything, you simply stared then looked away. "So, you remembered you had a home?" You asked, while looking at the fire burning in the fire place. You felt him sitting behind you on the bed, you could feel his body heat near you.

"I'm surprised to see you here. You must have also remembered you had a home too." He said, implying about you'd spent endless nights back at the tavern. It made you roll your eyes but it was true. It was silent for a whole minute, silence felt like an eternity. Until Aemond finally broke the silence. "I'm sorry." He simply said, it sounded genuine. This had been the first time, in a few weeks that you had spoken to him. You as much as you wanted to be mad at him for being gone and being in the arms of his abuser, you couldn't. You understood why he'd had gone to find comfort in her arms and not yours. It was part of his trauma.

Just like you, you'd find comfort in drinking until you dropped, Aegon would find his comfort in sex and drinking. As for Helaena. She found her comfort in the many bugs that she'd collect and keep. Daeron? You wouldn't know, it's been years since you've seen him. He must have his own form comfort. You were all damaged, ever since you were kids.

You turned and looked at Aemond. Seen that he did not have his eyepatch on like he usually did. You both just stared at each other for a moment. Until you finally spoke. "I forgive you." You responded, while you and him still kept your gazes looked. It gone silent again, then you watched as Aemond leaned close to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, pulling you into a hug. You then wrapped your arms around his naked waist, also hugging him close to you. It felt like a decade being this close to him. It felt nice, having him back, even if it was for a little while.

[duchesschameleon]

one night, one bed - a pierre gasly fic

warnings: none, this is fluff

summary: “it’s just for one night, we can handle it.” famous last words for when two people have to share a bed.

authors note: i was sitting at my gate waiting for check in when i decided to write this. it’s unbetaed, all mistakes are my own and i hope i did the trope and pierre justice! been a minute since i wrote xreader, i hope you enjoy!

He’s the last person you want to be sharing a bed with. The last person you want to be stuck in this position with.

But here you are, standing in the doorway to the only hotel in the vicinity with a room available for the night.

And of course, there’s only one bed.

“What’s wrong?” Pierre asks when you let out a groan, your head falling back to stare at the ceiling, willing a second bed to appear when you look at the room again.

No luck, because the universe hates you.

“There’s only one bed.”

“Ah,” he says, stepping around you and into the room. “Well, this just got more interesting.”

“Interesting? That’s what you have to say, this has gotten interesting? This is a disaster!” you exclaim, shouldering past him to sit on the bed. “We’re already stuck here, instead of being in Milan like we planned because you just had to take a detour and got us lost and out on the road later than we should have been, so now we have to share a room and the only place in this town with a room available just has to only have a single bed!”

Pierre blinks his eyes, stares at you, and then moves to sit beside you.

“Please, don’t. I just, I need a little space right now,” you plead.

He stops and moves instead to a chair in the corner, much to your surprise.

And look, it’s not like you hate Pierre. Not really. He’s just, not your favorite person. But you met in the circus of the junior formulas years ago, and now you’re more or less stuck together. Begrudging friends as your shared careers and interests keeps you in close proximity to one another for most of the year, traveling the world to race. Or assist in the racing in your case.

Pierre has just always gotten under your skin, something about his cocksure attitude rubbing you the wrong way. It’s irritating, but you also can’t stop spending time with him.

Which of course, is how you found yourself agreeing to accompany him on the drive from Monza to Milan after the race. You’re questioning the decision now, after a day of impromptu sightseeing and too little sleep, but a small part of you has been enjoying it.

“You know, you will survive sleeping next to me for one night,” Pierre says suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts. “The bed is plenty big, we will stick to our own sides and be okay.”

You look at the bed you’re sitting on, assessing it. Turning everything over in your head. It’s not like there’s a couch in the room for one of you to sleep on. Not that you could even convince Pierre to do that this late into the season. It’d be hell on his back and you know you wouldn’t be willing to take it either.

“Come on,” he pleads, leaning forward towards you, “it’s just for one night, we can handle it.”

You look around one more time, trying to see a way out of this.

There isn’t one.

You sigh and nod your head. “Alright, but just this once. And make sure you stay on your side of the bed.”

“Of course.”

Forty five minutes later, you’re finally settling into bed. It was only a little awkward, shuffling around each other to shower the long day off and get ready for bed. You shuffle under the covers on your claimed side as Pierre exits the bathroom, shirtless and toweling off his wet hair.

“Seriously? No shirt?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Stop acting like I have the plague, you’ll be fine.” He rolls his eyes, throwing the towel over the chair before sliding into bed. “It’s one night, okay? One night and then tomorrow we’ll get back on the road and back home.”

You turn on your side, facing him. “Fine. But I’m not kidding, stay on your side of the bed , Gasly.”

He looks down at you, a familiar smirk spreading across his face and eyes sparkling with mischief. “Only if you promise to do the same.”

You snort and roll your eyes at him before turning back around and getting comfortable to sleep. “Good night, Pierre.”

—

He doesn’t stay on his side of the bed.

But, neither do you.

By the time you wake up in the morning, both of you have migrated to the middle of the bed and despite falling asleep with your back to him, both of you are facing each other.

As you slowly rejoin the waking world, you realize his chest has replaced your pillow, and the two of you are inexplicably tangled together. You blink your eyes, trying to calm your heartbeat and not move a muscle.

You take stock of the situation, of your position wrapped around him. It’s not…the worst thing in the world you find. His arms are comfortable, familiar around you after years of casually hugging and keeping you close in the paddock or wherever. Even his chest isn’t the worst place you’ve laid your head, warm and soft beneath your cheek.

Your heart pounds in your chest, face flaming as you realize you like being cocooned in Pierre Gasly’s arms. The one person you swore you wouldn’t fall in love with, and yet here you are thinking it would be nice to wake up like this more often.

“So, seems like we both broke our promises.” Pierre’s voice is rough with sleep, gravelly and low and you file away how nice it sounds for another time.

“Mhmm,” you hum, stretching as much as you can in your current position. “I guess we did.”

“And you aren’t going to chop my balls off?”

It startles a laugh out of you and you shake your head. “No, I won’t,” you finally manage to say. “I guess sharing a bed with you isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

“Not the worst thing in the world?” Pierre squaks. “You slept solidly for longer than I know you have in weeks. Since summer break maybe!”

“How do you know that?”

“Because, I know you,” Pierre admits, looking down at you fondly. “I can see when your smile is pinched, eyes sleepier than normal. When your temper runs shorter than normal, even with Max. I know you.”

You blink at him, completely taken aback by the confession. His cheeks are pink, eyes darting around the room, trying to look anywhere but at you.

“You noticed all of that?”

“I notice you.” He waits a beat before placing a hand on your chin, tilting it up towards him, forcing you to look into his eyes. “I notice you, because I like you. A lot.”

“Oh.” It’s all you can manage to say, brain not fully firing on all cylinders to understand what he’s saying.

“Oh? I tell you I’ve liked you for years and all you can say is oh?”

“Hey! I just woke up!”

“In my arms!”

“Yeah, and I was just processing how much I liked it when you dropped this on me!”

“So you like waking up in my arms?”

You bit your lip and try to duck your head but he puts a hand on your cheek to keep your gaze on him. He tips his head, silently asking the question again.

“Yes, I liked waking up in your arms, Pierre.”

“Good, you should get used to it,” he says before ducking his head down to capture your lips in a kiss. Its slow and soft, the promise of heat building in his urgency to get even closer to you.

You pull back, breaking the kiss and frown a little at him. “So was this whole thing orchestrated so you could wake up with me in your arms?”

Pierre throws his head back in a laugh and pulls you into his chest, kissing the top of your head. “No, but I’m glad you think I’m smart enough to pull that off.”

[twilightt-fantasy]

holiday cheer [sam uley]

description: Can you write for Sam? Fluff, like a cozy day in watching favorite movies.

requested by: @steh-lar-uh-nuhs

warnings: none

i can't believe i have never written for sam!!! he's probably tied with embry as my favorite and i've never written a oneshot for him! thanks for requesting!! merry christmas!

snow fell heavily outside, the dark gray day affecting your mood more than you cared for, leaving you feeling gloomy a few days before christmas. normally you wouldn't mind the snow, but the weather on top of a lack of holiday spirit had you feeling down.

a pair of warm, muscular arms wrapped around your waist from behind and you felt yourself perk up at the presence of your imprint, sam. you leaned your head back on his chest, feeling his lips gently brush your ear. "what's got you so down?"

"i'm not sure." you mumbled quietly. "i just haven't felt very cheerful lately and the weather today isn't helping."

sam hummed against you and kissed your head before pulling away, moving his hands from your waist to your hand to lead you to the couch. you followed him willingly, knowing he had some sort of plan to try and ease your feelings - he hated when you were feeling down and always tried his best to alleviate your mood.

sam grabbed a blanket from the couch, wrapping it around your shoulders and tucking you into it as he sat you down. "christmas is in a few days. let's watch some movies."

you smiled - christmas movies were one of your favorite things about the season. and even if most of them were cheesy, you couldn't help but get into the holiday spirit each time you watched one.

sam smiled back. "i'll go put on some cocoa, you pick whatever movie you want to watch."

you answered with a short nod, letting your imprint leave your side to enter the kitchen. you scrolled through your streaming devices as you did, looking through different films before you finally settled on one of your favorite classics.

you got it ready, pressing pause so you could wait for sam to join you. he did a moment later, presenting you with your own cup of cocoa before joining you on the couch. he snuggled under the blanket with you, his body heat combined with the blanket easily combatting the cold from outside.

you laid against him after pressing play on the film, already feeling much happier than you had only moments ago. you turned your head to kiss sam on the chest, peeking up at him through your lashes as you spoke. "thank you. you always know how to help."

sam's warm hand smoothed your hair back and he grinned, his brown eyes gentle and loving as he took you in. he leaned down to kiss your hairline, before settling back against the couch, watching the movie and holding you close to him, assuring you that he'd always be there to lift your spirits.

[lynnbanks]

espresso

(we know that Luke doesn't drink coffee but imagine he is dating a girl who drinks a little bit more than she should. i didn't know how to end it and it is kinda short I just wanted to put something out for yall.i am still healing after reading "before we were strangers" i hope you guys like it. <3 <3)

it was an average day in the life of a hockey player in the off-season; Luke was up with the sun to get ready for a day of training and decided to make his sleeping girlfriend a coffee to start her day with before he left for the morning; placing her coffee on the nightstand and waking her up by planting kisses all over her face "Good morning beautiful I made you coffee." her eyes were still closed, but she was smiling "Thank you lukey it is indeed a good morning. She opened her eyes to see his face and took a sip of her coffee "mmhh perfect I love you." dramatically flopping back onto the bed to put on a show for how good the coffee tastes making Luke giggle.

"I have to go, but I will see you later maybe we up meet for lunch if you are up for it." Y/n sits up to say goodbye." That works for me; love you see you later yeah?" Luke leans down to meet her lips " See you later baby I love you" leaving her to get ready for the day he texts her that he will call when he is on the way to the restaurant they go to all the time. When he shows up she is sitting in a booth and a straw in her mouth sipping on an iced coffee when she sees him she smiles and he leans down to kiss her forehead and then her lips before sitting across from her. "Hello handsome" she smiled at him "Hi baby you look beautiful today. I like that dress." looking down at her cream-colored dress with little red roses that he got for her as a gift for a date night last summer.

"thank you, my boyfriend, got it for me." she joked "Did he? he must have known how good you look in dresses." he flirted back with her making her blush at his compliment. Taking her in he noticed her shakey hands as she put her now empty coffee down why does she do this to herself he thought as he grabbed her shaking hands " I thought we talked about cutting back your coffee intake" he said kinda sternly this being the second time this month they are having this conversation. y/n looked at her empty glass before speaking " I know we have I just wanted a pick-me-up I will slow down lukey don't fret."

And as much as he would like to not "fret" she makes it hard when most days she will have two cups of coffee before she has had a meal and walks around dizzy from too much caffeine. " did you even eat breakfast?" her silence tells him all he needs to know "Y/n are you kidding me you have to stop doing that it is not healthy." y/n sighed " I know I will stop I promise"

The next day before Luke leaves He brings her tea instead of coffee "Luke." she says staring up at him but he doesn't back down "Y/n" she deflates against the headboard " Luke I hate tea." he pushes the hair that has fallen in her face behind her ear and hands her the mug " just try it you won't know until you actually give it a chance." she rolls her eyes and took a tiny sip her face contorted in disgust " Luke it so bad." he rolled his eyes at dramatic reaction " baby you can't keep drinking coffee like its water you will run yourself to an early grave; will you give it a chance it might make you feel better instead of making you crash after every cup."

Y/n had cut down to one small cup in the morning and tea when she needed a pick-me-up and both Y/n and Luke had noticed a difference; she slept better at night and surprisingly she had more energy throughout the day and Luk didn't have to worry about her dizzy spells anymore.

[clotpolesonly]

Declan's hair in tvTRC; a dissection

ok i'm sure you guys have been waiting with bated breath for me to weigh in on this particular subject (lol) but i needed a hot minute to collect my thoughts on the matter. turns out i've got quite a few, go figure.

first things first: i am contractually obligated to say it's a goddamn travesty of a departure from canon to make Declan fucking BLOND and why the FUCK did they do that??? i was screaming in dms the second he showed up on screen, my sister can attest to how far i threw my phone across the couch in my outrage. i mean, honestly who suggested that?? turn on ur location i just wanna talk

-deep breath-

okay got that out of my system

so we all knew immediately that it was stupid as shit and entirely unnecessary...............but i've got a confession to make

i don't hate it

at least, not anymore. i'm actually kinda fascinated by what they've done here and what it adds to Declan's character/what it says about him psychologically. especially because he doesn't stay blond -- his hair is only like that for a little under half of the first season, though it's unclear how long he's had it like that before (tv)canon starts.

what the show has done here is given Declan a relationship with his hair that's not entirely dissimilar to the one that Ronan has. it's never said explicitly i don't think, in either the books or the show, that Ronan shaved his hair off because 1) he looks too much like his dad with it long and 2) it's something that he can control, but it very much comes through anyway, and the same applies to Declan here.

both boys -- all three boys, actually, but Ronan and Declan especially, more than Matthew -- are made in Niall's image. they resemble him very strongly. they look in the mirror and, for better or for worse, they see their father, and that's something that becomes really fucked up and complicated when your father is murdered, and when you hate him, and when you're afraid of becoming him, and when you miss him.

Ronan dealt with it one way (shaving it all off, making himself unique) and Declan here dealt with it another way (distancing himself from his father, yes, but also doing it in a way that made him more similar to Matthew). (and to his mother, which is a point i'll come back to later; you know the scene i'm talking about.)

Declan is a control freak of epic proportions, we all know this, and seeing it manifest in changes to his hair is not remarkable i don't think, esp in conjunction with how meticulously he manages his wardrobe. everything in his life feels outside of his control, so he grasps at what he can to feel secure. that's textbook.

then he fights with Ronan. most of the scene plays out more or less as it does in the book, but i want to draw your attention this bit of dialogue --

Gansey: "Why are you even here?" Declan: "I don't need to explain myself to you, I can go wherever I like. Free country and all." Ronan: "Then you're free to go somewhere else." Gansey: "Ronan... Declan, just go." Declan: "He's failing almost all his classes. What, Ronan, did you think I didn't know? Your teachers call me every time you skip class, dumbass, you keep going like this and you're going to -- " [Ronan tries to punch him again, Gansey intervenes] Gansey: "That's enough, both of you! Look, Declan, I'm not saying you're wrong, but you are not Niall Lynch, and you never will be." Ronan: [scoffs] "Not looking like that. You and your bimbo girlfriend get a 2-for-1 special at the salon?" Gansey: "Ronan, knock it off." Declan: "Believe it or not, I'm trying to help you." Ronan: "Well, I don't. And I'll never forgive you."

the salon comment is a petty side swipe that made me snortlaugh ngl, but it's also a direct acknowledgement from Ronan that what Declan is doing with his hair is Declan, in his own way, trying to distance himself from Niall while simultaneously trying (and failing) to fill his shoes. he's shining a spotlight on Declan's biggest source of internal conflict in a way that's both casually cruel (Ronan's specialty tbh) and humiliatingly dismissive. what an effective jab at someone like Declan who is, underneath his deliberately unremarkable exterior, every bit as proud as Ronan is. he's trying to be Niall and he's failing so badly even Gansey's begging him to stop, and he's trying to be Not Niall and he's so obvious about it as to be pathetic and laughable.

it's notable that the blond doesn't stay much longer. we only see it once more -- delivering his ultimatum to Ronan through Adam as he gatekeeps Declan at monmouth, a confrontation i must note is between a natural blond (Adam) and a fake one (Declan), and no words are exchanged about it but we do get a rather pointed look at the hair from Adam right before he delivers his line about fighting and it being "Ronan's thing" that makes Declan back off -- before we get to the biggest departure from Declan's canon arc and what i really want to talk about:

✨ the dorm room dye job ✨

this is, honestly, my favorite non-book-canon scene in this adaptation so far. that probably does not surprise anyone, because i am me, but hear me out!!!

let's run through what we actually get in this scene:

- Matthew asking Declan what he, Matthew, is doing in the morning, and Declan rattling off Matthew's entire schedule for the week, all while nagging him through his bedtime routine - Declan texting Ronan repeatedly and getting left on read - Declan trying and failing to sleep (intercut with Ronan and Gansey sharing insomnia time), growing more restless and texting Ronan some more until Ronan blocks his number and the texts stop being delivered - Declan going to their suite's bathroom to dig out a cheap dusty box of hair dye from the back of the cabinet and rushing through the process of mixing and applying it while Matthew sleeps - Declan staring at himself in the mirror and then smearing dye across his reflection

obviously, exactly none of this is book canon, and i don't not understand why some fans are crying foul on screentime they consider "wasted". should priority have been given to book canon elements and scenes? yeah, probably, and there are things that didn't make it into the show that i would've been glad to sacrifice this scene for, HOWEVER i want to talk about why this scene, as presented, within this slightly alternate show canon, is worth its screen time imo.

the show is really making an effort toward expanding the characters and relationships outside the insular gangsey -- the fox way ladies and the Gansey family have both gotten subplots, and much more attention is being paid to the Lynch bros than we got canonically this early in TRC.

without being inside the POVs of Ronan's friends like we are in the books, it makes sense that we get to see Declan more objectively for the overburdened teenager that he is. we get to actually SEE him being relied upon to manage and parent Matthew, day and night, no breaks. sharing even a bedroom with him, there is no reprieve and no retreat from that responsibility.

and we see him trying to manage Ronan too, which is overbearing and aggressive, yes, but we also see his preoccupation and his mounting anxiety. the little tics like him tapping his thumb against his thigh and the breathing technique he employees (the same one that Ronan uses in ep 2). unlike when they were brawling in the parking lot, Declan defends Ronan to Matthew ("he probably just lost his phone again" despite all of his messages being read). (this is a characterization tidbit described in Greywaren actually, in case any viewers haven't read TD3, that Declan was always far more understanding of Ronan and his behavior to Matthew than he was in confrontations with Ronan himself).

i digress, anyway, Declan tries repeatedly to get through to Ronan until the messages stop being delivered and Declan (correctly) assumes that Ronan has blocked his number (again).

all that nervous energy boils over and Declan beelines for the bathroom. he obviously knows that the box of dye is in there, he goes right for it. it's ambiguous how long it's been there -- either it was there before they moved into this room, in which case it may have been what inspired Declan to bleach his hair in the first place, or he may have bought it himself months ago and decided not to use it (probably because it's cheap and he usually has higher standards than that lol, he'd rather get it done professionally).

but this is not a moment for standards. this is an impulse. it's rushed and clumsy and jittery. he tears the box getting it open. he fumbles the little conditioner thing. he tosses the instructions aside with barely a glance. his phone is right there on the kitchen counter, always in the frame but face down, conspicuous in just how much Ronan is not texting him back.

this is, as mentioned up top, a bid for control. Ronan is uncontrollable, a variable he cannot account for and a loved one he cannot protect, and so Declan does what a lot of teenagers in fucked up circumstances do -- fucks with his hair before he can think better of it.

the only thing that slows him down is dropping the bottle, which almost wakes Matthew up. Matthew, right over Declan's shoulder in the mirror. Matthew, always in the frame just like the silent phone, always on Declan's mind, never allowed to more than an arm's length away.

Matthew is in the background of this entire scene. every shot of Declan's breakdown, Matthew is there, if indistinctly.

and there's something else about the cinematography that really elevates this scene, and that's the fact that, once Declan enters the bathroom, the entire thing is shot through the mirror. we don't get another shot of Declan straight on to the camera in this episode, we only see his face in reflection. we are seeing Declan seeing himself, which is perhaps the truest way to view him, especially in this moment.

remember that this was catalyzed primarily by Ronan's judgment (and Adam's, and Gansey's). Ronan ridiculed Declan for his hair a few episodes ago, not just for its own sake because it looks ridiculous but specifically in conjunction with talk of their father and Declan's inability to fill his shoes. Ronan essentially called Declan a failure and a phony, and the hair now symbolizes both.

Declan is so so conscious of how he is perceived, constantly thinking of himself within the context of how others think of him rather than engaging in actual self-knowledge. he is his own panopticon and this scene showcases that EXCELLENTLY.

which makes this messy breakdown so interesting, because it is unobserved by anyone but himself and, in the end, he obscures even that. he blacks his hair with bare hands (buddy, that's gonna stain so noticeably afkdjh) and then stands there, staring into the mirror at his own reflection -- at his own failure to perform the identity he's chosen for himself -- until he can't bear to see it anymore, and then he smears the dye along the mirror to block it all out. all that messiness, that vulnerability, hidden even from his own eyes.

and of course i need to touch on the identity of it all. of course i do!! because hair color means something in the Lynch family!! the resemblance the older boys have for Niall is so integral to the family dynamic and how they all relate to and interact with each other. the boys have daddy issues out the wazoo, and you would too if you were Made In Your Father's Image.

for Ronan, looking like dad was a source of pride for a long time, and is now a source of pain. but for Declan, looking like dad is equal parts pain and shame. everything Declan is, so much of his facade, was deliberately constructed to be different from his father -- Niall was reckless, so Declan is careful. Niall was loud, so Declan is staid. Niall was volatile, so Declan is predictable. Niall was eye-catching, so Declan is invisible.

and now, Niall was a brunet, so Declan is blond. it's another step along the road of rebellion against the legacy he inherited. Niall claims god broke the mold, but Declan knows just how similar they are, both physically and in their natural inclinations (though we haven't gotten into the latter much yet in the show). his father is not a man he respected and he is deeply afraid of being too much like him.

Declan bleaching his hair was a reaction to that, and it was a reasonable one, but it was also fundamentally, in both Declan's eyes and Ronan's, a disavowal of his connection to and place in the family. in rejecting his resemblance to dad (and therefore Ronan), Declan functionally declared himself Not A Lynch.

which makes this, dying his hair dark again, a bit of a reclamation? in a way? or, no. that would feel triumphant, and this scene has the definite air of tragedy.

maybe i should say it's a concession instead. the waving of a white flag. it's an admission that trying to disavow his family is a losing game. he cannot cover up what he is. no amount of bleach can wash away his father's blood in his veins. he will never be Niall Lynch, but he will always be Niall Lynch's son, for better or for worse, and there's no point in trying to pretend otherwise.

this scene is Declan giving up on his last desperate bid for an identity separate from the legacy he inherited. there's irony there, and honestly i find it very in keeping with what we get from him in some of the flashback details in TD3. i wrote a meta a while ago about the moth's wooden box and the alexandria townhouse both as symbols of Declan's complicity in his own oppression as a child -- ie, cages that Declan chose to step into of his own volition, because feeling powerless is worse than feeling trapped.

in this context, dying his hair dark again feels very similar. he's feeling powerless and so he makes the choice to figuratively reclaim his position in the family, even if that position is and has always been awful and traumatizing and something he's spent his entire life trying to break free from, because the alternative is to acknowledge that there is nothing that he can do to free himself. he would rather be complicit than helpless.

there may or may not be something to unpack with Declan choosing blond, especially that shade rather than something that would've been more aesthetically fitting for him like a cooler platinum shade. namely that, in distancing himself from his resemblance to Niall, he actually strengthened his resemblance to Matthew and also to Aurora. he could've dyed his hair some middling shade of brown and honestly it would've been far more in line with his desire to be bland and pedestrian, but he chose a hair color that aligned with the other half of his family (the dreamt half of his family).

was it some subconscious desire to replace their mother for Matthew's sake? Matthew was Aurora's favorite, he was the closest to her and undoubtedly the one who took her loss the hardest in the immediate aftermath, and we know that Declan took up the kinds of duties that used to be Aurora's like cooking Matthew good meals and being his emotional support (as best he could).

the fact of Declan taking on Aurora's most defining feature in the aftermath of her falling asleep (to him, functionally, her death) and his staunch refusal recognize her humanity (such as it is) or to engage with her memory is really haunting, imo. honestly, Aurora and his relationship with her is such an underrated factor in Declan's psychology, she had such an enormous impact on him that's rarely discussed in the detail it deserves. here it's like his feelings about her are leaking out of him subconsciously even as he's trying his damnedest to repress them.

or, hell, idk, that might be reading too much into it. it may just have been that blond was as far from his natural color as he could get.

but honestly it doesn't feel coincidental. nothing in this arc does, which surprised the hell out of me as i was watching. "Declan is blond now actually" is the kind of cracky nonsense that should've had me flipping tables, but it turns out, when it's a concept that's actually executed with thought and attention to detail and a real understanding of the character, blond!Declan is something that can actually be so personal.

so

thank you for coming on this journey with me. if you read this far, your brainrot is probably nearly as strong as mine is for writing it. i might write another one later digging into some more of the details from the back half of season 1, but for now, i need to go outside and touch some grass or something. stay tuned i guess. <3

[goldenfigtree]

Operation: Pamper Condor One

Summary: It’s your one year anniversary and you decide to make it your mission to give Leon the treatment he deserves.

Pairing: Leon Kennedy (any Leon of your choice tbh) x Fem!Reader

Warning: toothrotting fluff

Note: yeah I know, I know it’s spooky season but I’m a lover for the aesthetic of Valentine’s Day and thought it’d make this Drabble even more romantic. Sue me! Either way I hope you enjoy! This one is one of my longer ones.

February 14th was a day you despised with every fiber of your being. The hearts, roses, and the sickly shades of red and pink never swooned you. Any mention of the holiday earned a gag and an eye roll from you in return. Mainly because it reminded you how single you were, but you never said that aloud. Instead you went with the more indirect reasonings when questioned,

“Valentine’s day is just another unnecessary commercial exploitation” was your favorite one to use. But deep down, you envied those who got to celebrate having a significant other, wishing you could join in all of the fun. That is, until Leon Kennedy came along. Being the cliche and cheesy guy that he is deep down, he decided it’d be romantic to ask you to be his girlfriend on Valentine’s Day at your doorstep with an oversized bouquet of roses. One year later and your perception of this romantic holiday had completely been redefined. That’s what love does to you, you guess.

And now here you were, a week before Valentine’s day secretly planning the most romantic evening you have ever planned in your life. To be fair, it was the first romantic evening you ever planned, making it the most romantic thus far. It being the first romantic date you had planned made you all the more excited and anxious to make sure everything was absolutely perfect. Not one candle or balloon was out of place. Despite all the chatter from your friends, saying that it should be the boyfriend planning these sort of dates on this holiday, you didn’t care how you may look putting this together. More important matters were at hand, specifically Leon not really being the same since his last mission.

You remembered clearly how exhausted he looked when you picked him up from the airport, how he practically fell into your arms, how permanent his frown has been since then. You hated seeing him like that. You wish you could take his pain and exhaustion away, but you couldn’t, and that you hated more. So, in hopes to lift his spirits, you thought of Valentine’s day being the perfect opportunity to give him the treatment he deserves, especially on a day that the both of you held dear to your hearts. Screw the tradition, the expectations, all you cared about was getting your Leon back. The Leon who was serious to some but especially giddy and happy with you. The Leon who always had a twinkle in his eye when explaining something he was passionate about. You were getting him back if it was the last thing you did.

The week flew out the window with the fiercely cold winds of winter, and the time had finally come to execute Operation: Pamper Condor One. Wearing a lipstick red chain knit sweater and a pair of jeans, you pull your hair up into a bun at the top of your head and wrap it with a white scrunchy with tiny hearts. Looking in the mirror you didn’t expect to come to this point in your life. You didn’t think you’d ever enjoy today like this, much less with someone who made life worth perceiving at a different, more positive angle. But, you weren’t complaining, you liked this new you and you sincerely hoped that you could bring the old Leon back tonight.

Looking around your apartment with brows furrowed, you murmured your checklist to yourself to ensure everything was in place. It was safe to say that you went all out with this one. Heart shaped pillows replaced your usual everyday pillows on the couch, candles were lit everywhere in the house to the point where it was almost a safety hazard, and most importantly, rose petals scattered on the sheets of your bed. Nibbling on your thumbnail, your mind spirals in a panic as you wait for him to arrive.

Is this too much? Will he hate it?

You thought to yourself looking around the apartment from your couch, your legs crossed and your one heart patterned sock covered foot bouncing anxiously. So deep in thought, you jump at the sound of Leon’s familiar knock, one he came up with so you knew it was him at your door. Standing up so fast, you begin to almost see stars as you clumsily make your way to your front door and swing it open.

“Hey beautiful” Leon greets, his voice soft, sentimental, yet so very exhausted. With an oversized bouquet of your favorite type of flower in his arms, he has to tilt his head to the side to look at you.

“Awe you shouldn’t have!” you gush happily as you tug his arms toward you to lead him inside.

“You didn’t think I’d forget our one year did you?” He grunts as he places the bouquet down on your kitchen counter.

“Never” You reply with a giggle as you watched him lean back to stretch his back,

“Jesus, those are heavy” He groans to himself, “you also have something coming in later tonight”

You couldn’t help but snicker at his obliviousness towards his surroundings, as he continued to speak,

“I also got us a reservation at your favorite restaurant, we’re supposed to be there in… wait what’s all this?” he asks softly, turning around and taking notice of the romantic ambience of your apartment.

“I’d cancel that reservation if I were you, because we’re not going” you say leaning against the kitchen counter, crossing your arms,

“We aren’t?” He asks cautiously, turning back to you. You smile smugly and shake your head,

“Nope, tonight we’re going to be focusing on you” turning him to face you and wrapping your arms around his neck, you place a soft peck on his lips as his eyes turn up in thought,

“Me?” He murmurs against your lips, earning an agreeing hum from you in return,

“Go sit at the dining table, I’ll be there in a minute okay?” still a bit unsure of how this evening was going to turn out, he eventually nods and makes his way to your circle dining table. Noticing a wrapped box leaning against his chair, wondering what it could be.

Not long after, you walk out with a pizza box in your hand, Leon’s eyes immediately light up noticing the emblem on the top lid,

“Is that–”

“Your favorite? Of course” you triumphantly respond, placing the box on the table and opening the lid. The savory aroma of melted cheese and pepperoni filled the air which filled Leon’s eyes with excitement. Something you hadn’t seen in a while, seeing it now made your heart soar. So far, your plan was going swimmingly. Serving him a slice, you place a kiss on his forehead and sit across from him. While taking a bite of his pizza, he looks around at all your hard work and attention to detail in awe,

“Babe, you did all of this…for me?” You look up from your plate and reach out to take his hand with a loving smile,

“Well, you’re always taking care of me, I thought maybe I could do it for a change” You explain, a bashful grin growing on your lips as you squeeze his hand. His eyebrows furrow as his mouth falls slightly, something told him it was because of how he’d been acting since he came home. Guilt washed over him, he thought he had hid it so well. But this extravagant gesture showed him the opposite of what he thought was reality. You had often asked him what happened and if he was feeling okay and in return, he just shrugged it off. Telling you not to worry about him, that he could take care of himself. Little did he know how much that isolated the both of you back then. But he saw it now,

“Baby, I’m sorry for being so off lately and shutting you out. I thought I was protecting you but I think I did the opposite” your eyes softened at his words as you stood from your chair. Kneeling down you take him in your arms and kiss his forehead,

“I know” your breath brushed against his skin, causing his shoulders to drop slightly, “You were trying to tough it out right?”

With a soft exhale through his nose, he nods his head slightly, “You know you don’t have to carry this weight on your own right? That’s what I’m here for” you continue brushing some his hair away from his face,

“I guess, I don’t exactly know how to do that” resting your forehead against his own, you rest your hands behind his neck, the pads of your fingers making his eyes flutter slightly in bliss,

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it easier for you, starting tonight”

A small smile grows on his face, your soft voice always being music to his ears, and knowing you cared this much, to do all this for him. Since you two had intertwined your lives, you continued to show him what he had been missing. What he yearned without knowing. Nodding his head, he leans in to press his lips to yours. His hands gently lifted you closer to him and before you knew it, you were sitting on his lap, legs dangling over his right thigh as your lips failed to pull away. Every kiss rebukes all anxieties and fears from both of your minds. After one last peck, his lashes flutter down as he notices the wrapped present against his chair again. You notice and with a chuckle you reach down and place it on the table,

“Happy One Year my love” you coo nuzzling your head against the side of his. You wished you could take a photo of the look on his face as he eyed the carefully wrapped box. He looked like a little boy on Christmas Day,

“go on, open it” you urge. With a quiet laugh he makes the first tear of the paper and then another tear. With your legs swinging, you watch him open the box and pull out a T-Shirt and read the words. His smile widens as he reads it and out comes a laugh you missed so dearly, like a dream that flees from you the moment you awake.

“My Girlfriend Is Hotter Than You” he reads it aloud and places a smooch on your cheek, “that she is, that she is”

“That’s not all” you say with a smirk, earning an eyebrow raise from him,

“Is there something else in the box?”

“Nope” your hands leave his neck and reach the hem of your sweater, beginning to lift it from your body. A motion, you noticed, made Leon’s cheeks redden. You lift it over your head and drop it to the floor to reveal your matching t-shirt,

“My Boyfriend Is Hotter Than You” in bold black letters matching him. He practically gasps and tightens his arms around you peppering kisses along your neck, making you giggle from his excitement,

“And you said you hated these type of shirts” he points out smugly,

“What can I say? You’re a bad influence on me” you retort back, standing up from his lap and extending your hand,

“C’mon the night isn’t over” Leon’s ears redden from your words, as he takes your hand and lets you lead him into the bedroom. Sitting him on the bed, you grab his shirt and lift it from the bottom, with a shy yet excited twinkle in his eyes, he lets you. Placing it neatly on your dresser, you sit behind him on the bed,

“What are you doing?” Leon asks with a look of intrigue on his face,

“Giving you a massage, duh” you tease,

“Oh, I thought we were gonna…” he clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck with a sheepish chuckle, “right” he adds, sounding a tad disappointed. Pressing a kiss on the back of his neck, sending shivers down the man’s spine, you ruffle his hair and whisper in his ear,

“Maybe later” you almost saw his ears perk up from your words as your hands stroked along the scars littering his back. You remembered the first time you saw those scars. Wanting to kiss every single one of them away, knowing how much of a burden they casted on your lovely boyfriend. Resting your hands on his shoulders, your thumbs knead the area beneath, feeling the pent up tension,

“Does this hurt?” You ask with uncertainty,

“No, feels good” he murmurs, his eyes gently closed. With a sigh of relief you begin to rub down and knead every area of his back. Sighs and grunts escape his lips as he feels his body tense and relax from your touch. You smiled softly, glad to see him receiving the attention and care he deserved. You couldn’t imagine how tense he must have felt using his body so brutally to survive and play hero. You could feel the exhaustion, pain, and stress leave with every manipulation of muscle, “I love you” he murmurs again, his eyes half lidded and a dreamy smile on his lips.

“I love you, too” you softly respond, hugging him from behind, “how do you feel now?”

“Amazing” he mutters under his breath, “Thank you”

You can’t help but gush at his words, always so sweet, so polite. Getting up from the bed you run to the bathroom and take one of your clay masks and place it on your dresser,

“You’re really spoiling me here” he comments bashfully as you also come back with the leftover pizza in the pizza box, his gift and turn on the tv.

You chuckle and begin opening the clay mask and walk over to him. He widens his eyes and holds his hands up, “Wait, lemme do something first” he says, causing you to lift your brows curiously. Grabbing the t-shirt you gifted him, he slips it on and admires the letters spreading across his chest, “Okay now you can continue”

“So you like the shirt huh?” You tease smearing the teal paste onto his forehead,

“I thought I made it obvious” he retorts back sassily, closing his eyes. You roll your eyes and continue smearing the mask on his face,

“There all done, now just relax” you reassure, pressing him farther onto the bed,

“Wait, you’re not wearing a mask” he points out taking the paste from you, “c’mere”

“Leon, this is about you remember” you protest,

“Last I checked, it’s our one year anniversary, not mine. Now come here, I’m not doing this alone” he adds the last part sternly, making you sigh in defeat and scoot over to him so he can apply the paste onto your face. You can’t help but smile as you watch him carefully apply the paste on your face as neatly as possible. After he finishes, he kisses your lips earning a sound in protest,

“Babe, you’re going to make the mask crack” you say sheepishly,

“Tuff” he remarks, hovering his body over yours to kiss you more deeply.

The doorbell rings making Leon pull away, his eyes filled with excitement,

“It’s here” he whispers to himself, hopping off the bed and making his way to the door. Coming back he holds a gigantic teddy bear, the exact one you were eyeing while the two of you were running errands together,

“You didn’t!” You gasp,

“I did” effortlessly, lifting the teddy bear that was half the size of him, he places it next to you, “like it?”

“I love it! Thank you” you gush hugging the bear tightly.

“Alright alright, I’m right here you don’t need to cuddle it now” he adds, a tinge of jealousy in his tone, pushing the bear aside and collapsing onto you earning an,

“Oof” from you as you wrapped your arms around him,

“I think I’m ready to talk about it all now” he says as he lays his head against your chest, looking up at you with puppy eyes. You feel all your worries of this plan being a disaster fall away from his words,

“Well go on, I’m listening” with a long, tired sigh he begins to explain everything. The horrors, the betrayals, the losses he endured to make it home. You kept quiet and let him talk about it. Your hands massaging his scalp to comfort him. Once he was done, he lifted himself up from you to look into your eyes,

“I really am sorry for shutting you out. I was just.. afraid of burdening you”

“What you go through, I want to go through it with you. I wish you understood that, that’s what I mean when I say I love you”

“I understand that now.” He begins to say, “we’re a team right?”

“Exactly, you’re so smart” your compliment causes him to blush and smile,

“What was it you said about doing something later?” He says endearingly,

“I said maybe”

“Is it more of a yes than a no kind of maybe or…” he responds suggestively, pressing himself against you making you blush slightly, “Because I think I owe you something in return for all of this, princess”

“If it frees your conscience, sure” wrapping your arms around his neck you lean forward and share a kiss with your lover. Feeling his smile curve against your own, it was safe to say Operation: Pamper Condor One was a success.

[kunshokunsho]

ninjago OC !

been seeing a lot of dad! jay so i wanted to share my take on it :) lore is under the cut !!

TW abuse ! ALSO i am no means a writer and i’m definitely illiterate and this is my first time ever writing my ocs lore down (usually i keep it in my brain) so i hope it’s easy to understand 🥲 anywho

Ino is from the kingdom of wildness and is an oni. in oni cultural the runt of the litter is used to do all their dirty work, Ino being the weakest and youngest of his ‘family’ is abused, and treated like a slave.

when jay finds him he is malnourished and neglected, his hair is long and tangled, he has bruises and cuts on his face and old unclean bandages wrapped around his body. The oni have no use for ino, despite him doing all the chores around his house so jay buys him off of them.

it basically goes like this lol

jay- how much for the kid.

oni - ?????? bruh idk like 3 bucks

jay- k. *takes ino and leaves*

after the merge,Jay had taken refuge on a small inhabited island with a few other people from ninjago, they create a village, and are living quite nicely despite them living in a new world. Jay takes Ino to his home and get him cleaned up, but not a single time had ino said a word to jay, did they speak the same language? had he been so scared that he wouldn’t say anything? well it was both. Ino is in-fact, scared and can only speak the old tongue of the oni. Never in his life had he meet a human before, well besides that one fiery girl with red hair, who’s dragon attempted to eat him. but he didn’t count her, she was…. interesting. He did not speak their human language and he looked so different from him so why did the man in blue take him in? but that didn’t matter anymore, Jay had washed him up, gave him fresh clothing, cut his overgrown hair and nails as well as give him a name, a home, and most importantly, a family.

time skip a few years (it can vary depending on how long you think the merge timeskip was)

as time goes by jay teaches ino how to fight and how to maintain his oni powers, along the line he learns spinjitzu. a few years later when jay is corrupted by the kingdom of madness, he loses his memories and joins the administration, unknowingly jay passes his elemental power down to ino as way of saying goodbye.

and that’s kinda what i have lolz, somewhere along the line sora and arin see him doing spinjitzu and are like WOAHHH join our ninja team!!! but he doesn’t cause he’s awkward and wants to keep the jay situation a secret.

some facts! ~~

- ino is quite smart and it did not take him long to learn the ninjago language

- Despite being oni he mostly stays in his human form for fear of being judge

- i draw him with horns, but he canonically doesn’t have them unless his emotions get the best of him and struggles to keep his human appearance

- when he was younger jay had told him many stories about lloyd and wu as his way of saying “well not all oni are bad”, he even mentions mystake but leaves the part of him being drugged by her(season 8)

- jay had given him the name Ino, he saw somewhere that it meant storm and was like COOL but he wasnt aware that it also meant bad

- when ino talks about jay he refers to him as his father or dad, but never actually calls him that (jay has no problem referring to ino as his son)

- before the merge, when ino was younger, he used to play with wildfyre and even prank the lava-tides together, but their friendship didn’t last very long due to the onis and dragons hating eachother ( heatwave wouldn’t let wildfyre play)

- ino meets arin sora and wildfyre in a random village, they get to know each other but later that night the village is attacked by a strange monster. ino loses control of himself when he sees his new friends get hurt and loses control of his oni self.

[itsphoenix0724]

Meet Me On The Ice (Azriel x Reader)~ Chapter 3

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 1.9k

MMOTI masterlist

A/N: It's been a while and I'm sorry but I hope you guys enjoy it <3

Disclaimer: DISCLAIMER: I am not a figure skater or a hockey player, so while I'm trying to be as accurate as possible, it's likely some things may not be correct and/or are bent a little to fit the plot!

“He’s just so infuriating!” You fall back onto the plush couch in the Vanserra pool house, stuffing a mouthful of popcorn. The underused pool house had been You and Lucien’s sanctuary since you were small, his rowdy brothers not really caring to venture here, much preferring the amenities the woodland mansion had to offer. 

Well except for one. 

Eris Vanserra’s favorite hobby seemed to be annoying you whenever you were over. It seemed like no matter what he found some way to weasel into your business, and now as he settles into the couch between you and Lucien–shoveling a handful of your popcorn into his mouth, it seems he’s wormed his way into your venting session. 

“Trouble in paradise?” He raises an auburn brow and you can practically feel Lucien rolling his eyes. You can’t believe you ever thought he was the most tolerable of Lucien’s brothers. “I’ve seen that broody one you’re trying to replace LuLu with, he doesn’t seem like your type.” It’s probably true, most of the Vanserra brood played for the Autumn University Smokehounds except for Lucien, the Velaris Comet’s biggest rivals on and off the ice. 

“Like you know anything about my type Eris,” You snarl and he does nothing but laugh, even as Lucien looks like he wants to sink back into the couch cushions. 

“Go away Er, find someone else to bother.” Lucien supplies, removing the bowl of popcorn from his brother's lap, passing it back to you, fixing his heated gaze on Eris, and then pointedly looking at the door. Eris gets the hint, seeming amused by the level of aggravation he’s caused for the day and stands to leave. 

“Alright, but I’m hurt you didn’t ask me, Little Minx,” Eris’s heated gaze fixed on you as he reaches down and grabs one last piece of popcorn from your lap, crowding your space with eyes locked together with brutal efficiency. “I think we would’ve danced very well together.” He leaves without another word. 

“It’s like I’m not safe from assholes anywhere,” You scoff, collapsing back into Lucien’s lap. He looks at you apologetically, running a soothing hand through your hair. You relish in the simple affection of the balm that is Lucien’s presence. 

“I’m sorry about him,” He supplies, twisting a lock of hair through your fingers. 

“I know how to handle Eris, it’s the other one I’m more nervous about.” Your eyes slip shut, taking calming breaths.

“What about Az gets you so worked up?” He asks readjusting his casted foot to be propped higher on the pillow. 

“I don’t even know, my whole life he’s just hated me. I get that I was an annoying little kid who always wanted to hang out with them, but we’re adults now and he should fucking get over it.” You can feel the annoyance start to creep back into your body, your temper already rising at the thought of the practice you have to attend later. 

“You’ll survive Dove, don’t let this ruin your last season. At least one of us needs a good one.” You glance up at Lucien who’s glaring at his leg like that could make it magically heal.

“I know I’m sorry. I just wish we could do it together.” You say, and he smiles down at you mournfully, rubbing out the crease between your eyebrows as you try to relax. “I’ll try to keep my head up.” 

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Your head slams down hard against the practice floor as you’re dropped for the third time tonight. 

“Alright!” Alis yells, her forehead wrinkled with irritation as she stops the music. You glare hard at Azriel whose chest is heaving up and down, an equally intense glare fixed on you. “You two clearly haven’t taken my advice, and it’s showing in your work.”  She calls your name and you sit up, rubbing the sore spot from where your head hit the floor. “What did you and Lucien do when you first started skating together?” 

“We used to get pizza and go the arcade once a week.” You supply and you and Az share a mutual look of distaste. “But that was when we were eleven and Azriel and I are very much not eleven.” Alis shakes her head again. 

“Well, I don’t care. If you want any chance of even stepping on ice this season, you’ll bond. If you can’t get this on the practice floor, I’ll be damned before I let either of you on skates.” 

“I don’t have time for that.” Azriel’s voice rumbles through the room, and Alis shoots him an incredulous look.

“Well young man, let me make some time for you now. Practice is dismissed early, and the two of you are going to get pizza and go to the arcade. In fact, I’m giving you homework, you two have to hang out once a week.” Her tone is final despite the mutual protests of you and Azriel. So with the grumbling, you’re reluctantly climbing into the passenger seat of Az’s beat-up jeep as he’s plugging in the directions to the old Funland Arcade. He sets his arm on the back of your headrest as he looks over his shoulder to back out of the parking lot and set out on the road. 

It's most likely the most awkward car ride you’ve ever been on. 

The radio is playing on low with some old rock band Azriel must be fond of and the monotone voice of his phone’s GPS is the only noise in the car. Even the sound of your breath seems to blare throughout the vehicle's cab. Luckily for you, the drive to the old arcade is short. He parks the car and the two of you make your way inside, when you get in line behind him for game tokens he raises his eyebrows at you pinning you with a silent question in his hazel gaze. 

“What? I don’t expect you to pay for me, it’s not like we’re on a date.” You give him a noncommittal nod and he shrugs in response before feeding money into the machine that spits out the tokens. You repeat his actions filling your bucket as you set out upon the battlefield of neon lights and arcade consoles. 

It takes all of about 30 seconds for another argument to ensue. 

It's stupid really. You want to play the old Dance Dance Revolution machine in the back and Azriel wants to play some zombie shooter with grotesque graphics and obnoxiously loud gun noises. 

“Well, then we can just each play our own game and meet up when we’re done.” He huffs and starts to walk over to his choice, but you grab his arm. 

“The entire point of being here is so that we spend time together. Alis said we’re supposed to do things together as a team.” You drop his arm, glaring at him as he scoffs and shoves his hands in his hoodie pocket. 

“She’ll never even find out if we don’t” He tries to walk away again fully turning his back to you but you grab his hood and yank him back again. He lets out a choking sound before whipping around to you absolutely furious. “What the actual fuck was that for?” Azriel questions, yanking his collar back down. 

“Listen to me, Azriel. I get that this isn’t important to you but it’s important to me. This is my only chance to skate, so I don’t care what I have to stoop to.” You pinch the crease between your brows and try to offer an olive branch. “So can we at least compromise okay? I’ll play your shooting game first if you play my game after, and then how about we try to pick a game together.” Az finally relents, nodding his agreement. So the two of you walk over to his game, eloquently titled Undead Massacre III, and pick up the red plastic gun assigned to player two. 

You were officially complete dog shit. 

You had wasted a good chunk of your tokens because you kept dying and Azriel was too far ahead or too focused to revive you, and you could tell that he was annoyed at having to start over. You wanted to quit, not understanding the gun upgrades or reloading mechanism, insisting that you played enough and it was your turn. Az insisted that you had to win at least the easiest round before you could move on. After you died for the fifth time and the game over screen flashes bright and angry as Azriel comes behind you. 

“You can’t reload or switch guns fast enough because you’re holding it wrong.” He rumbles the warmth from his chest seeping into your back as he repositions your hands around the plastic. “And you can’t aim because you’re holding the gun too low and it’s not registering with the sensor,” He pulls your arm up so that the gun is now level with your collarbones. “There, see how that feels?” You shudder as his breath hits your neck, rolling your shoulders to fight off the rising goosebumps from his proximity and pray that he can’t see the heat creeping up your cheeks in the dim light. He inserts the tokens for both of you and starts the game again. You actually manage to beat the easiest level and let out a shout that makes a few mothers shoot you angry glares, turning to Azriel eyes blazing with victory. He smiles, actually smiles at you, and you start toward him before awkwardly pausing. If it was Lucien, Rhys, or hell even Cassian you would’ve thrown your arms around them to celebrate. But it was Azriel, so you settle for an awkward smile and offer your hand up for a high-five. He returns it and reluctantly follows you over to DDR, which he does surprisingly well at. 

You should’ve known apparently he’s good at everything. You shoot him a questioning gaze and he gives a nonchalant shrug, but there’s amusement in his eyes that makes a laugh bubble out of your chest.

The both of you settle on ski ball and a couple other arcade games that leave you both with a massive pile of tickets that you have to spend at the counter. You end up combing your tickets for the free pizza coupon so you settle into the booths and wait for it to be delivered to your table. This time the silence isn’t terribly awkward, you’re surrounded by kids laughing, terribly censored pop radio, and the smell of mediocre arcade pizza. You flick through social media on your phone and answer a couple texts before the waitress brings you a pitcher of lemonade and a large cheese pizza. You take two slices and Azriel piles 4 onto his plate, raising a brow at you as he shoves his face. 

“You don’t have to eat it like it’s about to run away from you.” You giggle out around a sip of your lemonade and Azriel thankfully takes the comment as the joke it is instead of an insult and laughs. 

“I’m a growing boy sweetheart, gotta eat.” He shoves almost half a piece of pizza in his mouth and pats his stomach for effect. The blush is back and Az watches it darken your cheeks with amusement dancing in his eyes. Thoroughly stuffed and satisfied you climb back into Azriel’s car as he drives you back to the rink, looking out the window as stars twinkle in the night sky. 

“I had fun tonight,” you mutter as he drops you off at your car. “I’ll see you tomorrow for practice.” Azriel nods at you from his rolled-down window and waits until you’re in your car and pulling out of the parking lot before he starts his drive home.

Taglist: @sidthedollface2, @bionic-donut @lyinginameadow @feyretopia @natashachelsea @going-through-shit @mika-no-sekai-blog @hijabi-desi-bookworm @brandywineeeee @littlelunatica @gorlillaglue25

[annievrse]

boyfriend!eren headcanons pt. 4 *･｡ﾟ

—ᡣ𐭩 headcanons a/n: you asked, i delivered <3 c/w: mentions of reader being a mother, mentions of sex (mdni) part 1 part 2 part 3 part 5

bf!eren takes you to a carnival and wins ALL the prizes because he is competitive (this man is winning against literal 10-year-olds). he even won you a goldfish! in a bag!

bf!eren is now *technically* a dilf :/ & you are the mother of a fish (or the milf to eren's dilf (gag))

bf!eren taps the bag (and eventually the glass of the fish tank) like the girl from finding nemo

how bf!eren managed to secure a pet is beyond you (at least he can't throw a fish like a basketball 🥲)

bf!eren gets heated when he plays video games :/ poor jean gets the brunt of it most of the time, but it's not his fault he's bad at cod :( (it's the controller!! it's shit!!)

bf!eren wears a chain with a charm of your initial (RAHH)

bf!eren holds the charm between his teeth in concentration, when he's anxious, during sex (if you're not tugging on it to bring him closer—which drives him insane)

bf!eren wears cologne and NOT body spray because he is not 14 (although he only started wearing the more expensive stuff because you gave it to him as a birthday present <3)

bf!eren has these slippers ok. you got matching ones. they're bear slippers and they are giant and he looks so cute in them (but he wears the dilf ones connie got him MORE)

bf!eren LOVES peppermint hot chocolate and ignores the hate he gets from mikasa because he feels ~fresh~ after he drinks it

bf!eren holds your hand every single chance he gets, and if your hands are full, his arm is over your shoulders

bf!eren will pull your hoodie strings together if your hood is up to stop you from talking so he can kiss you

bf!eren once left a hickey on your forehead because he 'forgot' he was kissing you there and not on your neck?????

bf!eren has the back to the future trilogy on DVD, and they play on a loop on his TV every weekend (so megatron, the goldfish, doesn't get lonely.......)

bf!eren goes for runs and will take his shirt off halfway and tuck it in the back of his running shorts (i'm talking like 20km runs twice a week because he's insane like that), so he gets back to your apartment (not his own) all sweaty and red, and his chest (😳) someone get YOU some water........

bf!eren is allowed to get absolutely plastered at only one! party a month (his own rule because of basketball season)

at these parties, bf!eren is known for getting on top of tables (with connie (see their unhinged activities from summer bf!eren) & from that point on, they run the show)

bf!eren hosts boys nights with connie, jean, and armin, but you, sasha, and mikasa come too because you're a part of the boys

expect mario kart on these nights where bf!eren sabotages jean (who is suspiciously good at the game considering his cod reputation) so you can win <3

if it's a 'no tv' game night (which armin implemented because he sucks at mario kart), poker is a hit along with uno, which both included real-life money because it was 'more fun' (mikasa introduced the idea), which the boys loved, until it was later removed because the boys are sore losers!!!!!!!! (turns out mikasa cleans up in poker)

ok, back to bf!eren

bf!eren sings to you serenades you in the car (loser <3)

bf!eren has bon jovi on vinyl ☝️☝️

you wear bf!eren's spare jersey to his basketball games

bf!eren points at you when he gets the game-winning goal (which is surprisingly almost every game??)

bf!eren's chain under his basketball jersey with his hair tied back and a thin headband, tape on his dodgy shoulder......... oh lordy

bf!eren makes you wear his jersey while he's fucking you dumb after a win 😋

bf!eren gifts you a necklace with his initial on it on your anniversary (matchy matchy 🥲 (i'm going insane))

[lavellenchanted]

prompt: fredwina + “can you just look at me? please?” 💕

“Are you insane?” Edwina hisses as she steps out into the gardens, careful to shut the doors quietly behind her in case any of the servants are still awake and downstairs. “If Lady Danbury or my mother finds you here, there will be hell to pay.”

Still playing with the handful of pebbles he had been using to throw at her window, Friedrich only lifts an eyebrow. “Then we will have to be quiet, no? But you did not leave me much choice, Schatz.”

He is still in his suit from the ball, but his waistcoat is now unbuttoned and his cravat hangs loose around his neck. The first few buttons of his shirt are undone, giving Edwina perfect view of the hollow of his throat, and the lines of his collarbones as they meet his chest. It’s a warm night, but she feels a shiver run down her spine.

Glad of the darkness to hide her blush, she looks away and focuses on a nearby flowerpot. She’s highly aware of the fact that she is only in a nightgown and robe, and that her hair is falling loose down her back. If anyone were to see them like this, what’s left of her tattered reputation would be completely destroyed. The thought sends a ripple of resentment through her. Does he not care?

No, of course he doesn’t. She should know that by now.

She can’t quite keep the bitterness from her voice as she replies, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the fact that you have gone out of your way to avoid me this evening.”

“I have not.”

She has.

“You barely looked at me once – you will not even look at me now!” He has the gall to sound frustrated. “And every time I tried to ask you to dance you found a different partner.”

“I simply had a full dance card.”

She did not. She has not had a full dance card since last Season.

Judging by the depth of the silence behind her, he is not impressed by her lying.

“Edwina.” With a quiet start, she realises his voice is suddenly much closer; a moment later she feels the warmth of him standing right behind her, and she hates the way her insides flutter despite herself at his use of her given name. “I think I deserve to know what I have done to cause you such offence that you would rather dance with Lord Collingwood than with me.”

That was particularly spiteful on her part. Lord Collingwood is nearly in his seventies, wears the most terrible wig and has false teeth. He also, as it turns out, has both incredibly bad breath and a poor sense of timing, so her spite backfired and the quadrille she had to dance with him felt more like she was punishing herself than Friedrich.

“You mean besides throwing rocks at my window in the middle of the night?”

 “Liebling. What did I do? You must tell me, otherwise how I can make it right?”

There is such soft earnestness in his voice that she’s not sure whether to laugh or cry. There is no making this right, and it is downright cruel of him to pretend that there is.

“You lied to me. You toyed with me and used me, even knowing that I –” Her voice catches, and she hates herself for it because she does not want to show him any weakness, this infuriatingly golden boy who pretended to patch up her cracks while all the time he was simply prying them further open. “You have made me the fool again.”

“What? What are you talking about? I have never lied to you, Edwina, I swear it.”

“I heard your servants talking, Friedrich, at your card party last week. They were discussing your betrothal, whether you would visit Prussia and have your wedding before you return to the battlefield.”

Bringing her arms up, she wraps them around herself, remembering the cold dread that had settled in her stomach when she caught the conversation and began to understand what the footmen were talking about. The sick feeling when she realised that if Friedrich was betrothed to someone in Prussia, then that betrothal would have already taken place before she had ever met him – that he had had someone waiting for him the entire time she was getting to know him, talking with him, dancing with him.

Falling in love with him.

Last year she had learned what it was to have her heart broken. This year she had learned was it was for her heart to shatter.

“You flirted with me. You made me think – You know what was happened to me last year. And this whole time, you have had a fiancée. How is that not lying?”

“Edwina, look at me.”

Tears gather along her lashes as she shakes her head and she squeezes her eyes shut to try and keep them from falling. She cannot look at him – cannot bear to turn and see how wrong she was about the man she thought she knew. Not again.

“No.”

Suddenly she feels his fingers, warm and callused, gently gripping her chin and she catches her breath. He turns her head around so that, presumably, she is facing him.

“Can you just look at me? Please?” he whispers, so quietly she almost doesn't hear him even though there must only be scant inches between them.

She can already feel her defences crumbling, and when he whispers again, "Please," she cannot stop herself from opening her eyes.

Immediately the tears she's held back slide down her cheeks, but Friedrich wipes them away. The moonlight paints him in silver, and his face is filled with tender sorrow as he gazes down at her. One loose strand of hair falls across his forehead and even now Edwina wants to reach up and brush it back.

"Edwina, schatz," he says, very slowly and carefully. "I promise you, I am not betrothed to anyone."

What?

"But, they said -"

He cuts her off, one corner of his mouth curling in faint, exasperated amusement. "If my servants were talking about my wedding, it is because they are all fully aware of my intention to propose to you before I return home and have assumed you will accept."

Edwina thinks her heart might have stopped beating. She has definitely stopped breathing.

"They ... are?"

"I have not made a secret of how much I enjoy your company. And they could hardly fail to notice when I wrote to my mother to ask her to send my grandmother's ring."

Edwina's head is spinning as she struggles to take in this new information, and her legs feel abruptly rather weak. He had asked for his grandmother's ring? He truly meant to propose?

He has not just been playing with her all this time?

"Oh."

It's an entirely inadequate response, but words are beyond her right now. There is too much happening inside her for her to be able to speak.

"Ja." Friedrich smiles softly at her, reassuring her that he is not angry at her misunderstanding, but there is still a hint of sadness to it. "Meine Liebe, why did you not come and ask me about what you heard?"

She owes him an explanation, but it at the same time she does not know how to explain.

"I don't know - I wanted to, it's just . . ." She sighs. "I was afraid, I suppose."

"Do you still not trust me?"

"I trust you more than anyone." Which is perhaps not saying as much as she wishes, when her trust in anything is so fragile these days. "But I have been so wrong before . . . "

"It is easy to believe you would be again," Friedrich finishes for her. "I understand. But I hope that will not always be so. Just tell me now - do you believe me? That there is no one in my heart but you? Or must I offer more proof?"

A warm blush spreads across her cheeks, and it is amazing how the heart that only a few minutes ago she would sworn was broken beyond repair is now singing in her chest and making her feel as though she could fly if she chose.

Holding his gaze, she asks, "What more proof do you have to offer?"

He blinks in surprise, concern flitting briefly across his face before he slowly starts to grin.

"Only this," he says, and brings his head down to press his lips to hers.

The kiss is soft and chaste at first, a gentle stroke of his mouth against hers - once, twice; then it deepens, as he tilts her head further up to a better angle and teases her lips open with his tongue. Each movement of his mouth is slow and deliberate, like he's content to take all the time in world to make his point, and Edwina feels it through her entire body. Her blood has turned to lightning in her veins and she feels drunk on it, wanting nothing more than to press herself as close to Friedrich as possible and lose herself in his arms.

Brings her hands up, she curls her fingers into his shirt and tugs. She feels him laughing into the kiss and nips his bottom lip with her teeth in remonstration - but he finally sweeps her into his embrace and the world around them disappears, replaced by the sound of their shared breaths and the feel of his heartbeat, thundering just as hard as her own, against her breast, and glorious, blissful taste of his lips and tongue as he kisses her over and over and over.

When they finally break part she has wrapped her arms around his neck and it is only his arms around her keeping her upright. Smiling still, Friedrich gently bumps the side of her nose with his.

"Do you believe me now?"

Voice hushed, Edwina nods and answers, "Yes, I do."

"Good." He presses another soft kiss to the side of her head. "May I also take that as a yes to my proposal?"

"Proposal? I don't recall you actually asking me anything."

"I -" He stares at her for a moment, and then they both dissolve into giggles. "No, I suppose I did not. And I suppose the proper thing would be to speak with your mother first."

Edwina wrinkles her nose. "Technically. But I think we are a little way past proper."

He gives a cheerful sigh. "Well, we must still try. But if I call on you tomorrow and speak to your mother, what will your answer be?"

She smiles, and has no idea that it's the most radiant sight Friedrich's ever seen.

"It will be yes, of course," she says, and kisses him again. After all, there's no longer any reason why she can't.

[justanothersanjilover]

One Piece Modern Gym Au Wip (Part 13)

“Never told you, so how should you know?” Sanji’s voice came from his left side.

Zoro walked in the direction. Rounding a corner he saw Sanji standing in front of a big kitchen island, slightly swinging a pan over fire with one hand and seasoning the content of another at the same time. Zoro’s gaze was fixed on his face the moment he looked at him.

Sanji had pulled his hair back in a little tail, freeing his face from the always-present fringe shielding his right eye. A beautiful green iris showed, which mesmerized Zoro tremendously.

“Cat got your tongue, Marimo?” Sanji asked still watching the food in front of him.

“Green,” came Zoro’s very intelligent answer.

“What?”

“Your eye…it’s green.”

“Oh…uh…yeah, it,” now Sanji looked up - a little unsure of what to expect from Zoro. “It’s called heterochromia. I…”

“It’s beautiful!” Zoro blurred out and finally came over to stand beside Sanji. “Why do you hide it?”

Too late, he realized his action and took a step back. Beautiful? It was! But why did he say that to Sanji?! And in such a outbreak of emotions…

“Sorry…”

“No, it's fine. Actually, it’s rather nice that someone is thinking like that about my most hated trait.”

“Why would you hate it?”

Sanji smiled sadly for a moment. But then he shook his head slightly.

“Maybe I tell you later.”

“Okay…”

Zoro scratched his neck and looked around the open kitchen. He spotted what looked like some mushrooms, fresh herbs and other ingredients sitting beside Sanji. In the pan he had two juicy-looking pieces of beef and in a pot was rice cooking slowly.

“What do you gonna make us?” Zoro wanted to know.

“On nothing too special. Just sukiyaki with beef.”

“It smells incredible!”

Sanji smiled at him, and Zoro felt his heartbeat fasten as if it wanted to break through his ribcage.

“So…Can I help you?”

“No need. Just sit down. Beer’s in the fridge if you want some.”

Zoro nodded, grabbed a bottle form the fridge and sat down on one of the bar chairs behind the kitchen - so he could watch Sanji cook. It was really fascinating! The precise movements of Sanji cutting the food and tossing it in the pans. The fact that he could do two tasks at once - if it doesn't involve cutting something. The way he held the knives, how natural it looked. And maybe Zoro was a little freak because this - Sanji handling his kitchen knives so well - turned him on a little.

“I really would like to see you fight with those,” Zoro mumbled as Sanji twirled a long knife in his hand to change the grip on it.

The knife almost fell out of the cook's hand by those words. He looked up and met Zoro’s gaze with a bit of shock.

“I wouldn't…” He swallowed drily. “I don't fight with either knives or my hands.”

Zoro, seeing that he made a mistake tried to save the conversation and the evening. He could imagine how fast this could go south and he really wanted to enjoy Sanji’s company.

“Sorry…I…I train and work at a Dojo; have been my whole life. You could say I’m a little sword and knife crazy,” he chuckled and rubbed the back of his head - Sanji’s frown turned into a neutral expression, but his lips twitched into the smallest of smiles. “ When I see someone working with knives so skilled like you do it. I can't stop but wonder how you’d handle a sword.”

“I don't know anything about swords, Zoro. I can't even fight with knives…”

Something tells me that’s a lie, Zoro thought but didn't say it.

He nursed his bottle of beer until the silence got a little uncomfortable. He glanced around as if a topic for a conversation would fall from the ceiling…he didn't think it would actually happen when he saw a black spot falling on the countertop between him and Sanji.

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