#its equality. family bonding.

[voidbound-bard]

I was so distracted by the glasses being gone I didn't even notice the lipstick

day 37

yknow we see art of the lalondes doing the sunglasses thing, like. Striderification. so rarely do i see the striders adopting the black lipstick and winged eyeliner.

i think we need to lalondify them more

[the-random-phan]

Ectoberhaunt Day 13

Isekai: Old Hero New World

[fluffypotatey]

To be honest I am a huge Nalu shipper. But the thing is I want to know the difference between the way Natsu cares about his guildmates and Lucy. Like what is the obvious difference since that boy sees every as Nakama so how can we say that the wag he cares about Lucy is different?

Like even when Erza passed away? (All the way back in first season there was a segment where the guild was gathered at her grave and all) Natsu was still very reactive. Plus he was also said to be depressed even when Lisanna passed.

What's the difference between all of them and Lucy?

the fact that he stayed. the fact that before he met Lucy, Natsu wasn't one to stay in a group or even want to work with anyone besides Happy at the start of the story. hell, he was ready to just file Lucy down as "New Guildmate" once they reached Fairy Tail

but then, Lucy doesn't leave. she follows him on his mission to save Macao despite her not needing to or even really understanding everything about it. she stays and then fights with him and saves him. it's no secret that Natsu is strong and can take care of himself really well. he's been going on solo missions for years now, and no one has really stopped him, but that means he's been in a lot of sticky situations where he and Happy are on their own and have no backup. and yet, without asking, Lucy offers it

and i think this is the moment when Natsu considers that maybe it's okay to have someone there to have his back (sans Happy)

"but Natsu only needed Lucy for the next quest because of the requirements," well, Natsu also wouldn't have taken or even considered that quest if it weren't for Lucy, yeah? he was not a team player (in the picking job's sense) or really wanted other people to help him on his quests sans Happy. and then he goes and picks a job that caters to their team whilst ensuring that Lucy can't say no

or maybe i'm reading too much into it 🤷🏻‍♀️

or maybe Natsu's got horrible abandonment issues that he will latch onto people so fast (Igneel & Lisanna) but also cause him to distance himself so far when left behind (his 1st time at the guild, Lisanna's death). Erza and Gray are Natsu's closet friends after Lisanna and yet they cannot reach him when he closes himself off. and then we have Lucy, who stuck by and had his back, so who is to say Natsu didn't make some contingencies to ensure whether or not she'd join him?

but maybe it's the rose, colored ship glasses i have on

because yeah, Natsu cares for all of his guildmates. the power of friendship is his biggest motivator. when we meet Natsu, our first introductions of him is defending his guild's reputation from Bora (who was using it as a guise for human trafficking) and saving Macao. and our 1st big arc (Galuna Island), where Natsu adamantly refuses to allow Gray to use Ice Shell and sacrifice himself despite how antagonistic they've been to each other. we get Natsu 100% at Erza's defense throughout the Tower of Heaven and he is even ready to defend Wendy though they only met hours ago

Natsu is a character with a bleeding heart and cannot help but wear it on his sleeve, but we don't really see him allow others to fight his battles or have his back until Lucy comes in. to be honest, i don't even think he had his heart on his sleeve until Lucy. he still has a bleeding heart (i don't think anything could stop that), but he was not ready to be open in receiving company because he was so used to it being ripped away from him

that being said: of all the characters he interacts with, he finds Lucy to be someone compatible enough for him to start going on team missions and inviting her on them (for example, his 1st S-class mission, which he stole, he went to her house to show it to her. the fact that part of the reward was a celestial key might be a coincidence, but i wouldn't doubt it as Natsu and Happy's trump card in case she refused)

but yeah, the difference is that he stayed and didn't push her away at the beginning, but instead continued to invite her along with him to the point that doing a mission without Lucy wasn't his regular anymore. compared to the rest of the guild, of whom he spent most of his childhood with, even if he spoke to no one, they would still be around and talk to him anyway. he might not invite them on job and only challenge them to fights, but the guild is his home and a constant in his life, a constant he needs (bc heavy abandonment issues).

"okay, but he still pushed her away after he watched Igneel die right in front of him. and he left the guild for a whole year, too. so what's the difference there?" you may ask.

so 1) Natsu never thought the guild would disband. he returns to Fiore after a year and is the last to know that they disbanded. he assumed, like all the other times before and while he and others were sealed for 7 years, that Fairy Tail would still be there when he returned. he assumed that his disappearance would not impact so hard because the guild would still be around and Lucy would have the others with her

which, did not happen :)

and like, so many guild members go off on jobs, quests, or even just leave for an indiscriminate amount of time (which i, personally, believe was his rationality for leaving), so him being gone for a year was nothing! right? no harm, eh? his plan was never to be gone forever :))))

2) he just watched his father die and lose any chance of having some semblance of a long term reunion with Igneel. he literally lost one of his main driving motivations for getting stronger and taking jobs. before Fairy Tail, before anyone, it was Igneel. and to learn that a) Igneel was always with him to begin with and b) he only got to see him for less than a day after 14 years of nothing......i would feel lost too ngl

man's needed space from everybody. and he also needed comfort, but Natsu has been shown not to really be the character who asks to receive comfort (and when he does receive it, it's usually when he's already emotionally compromised). he is in the habit of shutting people out after being abandoned or losing someone close to him, with his next rationale being to "get stronger" in order to prevent what happened in the past to ever happen in the future.

anyway

what makes this different? well for one, he sent the letter only to Lucy (or it's implied since no one else is shown getting one) because of how the two spend most of their time together. even the line that goes with the panel makes it sound like Natsu is unsure on how the note will be received (maybe even hesitant? but that could be my own hopes)

and one of the 1st people he reunites with after a year is Lucy and we get such a similar parallel to the first chapter of Fairy Tail between the two as if the narrative itself is slotting them together to say "ah yes, now everything is back to normal and new journeys can begin"

but yeah, this is just a long way of saying, that Natsu does love his friends and guildmates but even when he is close to them, he kept to himself (and Happy) and sort of stayed in their orbit but always with some emotional distance because of his fear of abandonment. and then you have Lucy where he will stay for and allow her to orbit around him and he will invite to new adventures no questions asked

that's the difference

[ahalliance]

an important thing to understand with qetoiles is that he made every one of his relationships feel special without ever placing the importance of a person over another . he was naturally closer to some people than others but he never had A special person, if you get me

[ivypond11]

i've been obsesing over a tlt twilight au solely because of the silly edit with harrow seeing alecto alla bella seeing edward and.

it's so silly and dumb but gideon being the vampire and ianthe being the werewolf and they both obsessively pin over the weird loner wet rat harrow that just moved into town. i wanna say camilla, palamedes, dulcinea (the real one), protesilaus, jeannemary and isaac are part of the same family, all vampires, with abigail and magnus being the parental figures (basically the cullens). the third and second houses i'm thinking are all the werewolves, maybe the eight too. i just love the idea of ianthe and coronabeth being raised to maybe one day both take over the pack until they find out coronabeth is in fact not a werewolf. john and all the remaining of the first would be the volturi ofc but all the cavaliers would actually be alive? i haven't thought that far.

[lambjock]

i think that viewing the little hope relationships as just ‘family’ ( specifically : blood family, ones with traditional roles and relationships, one bred from a nuclear familial structure ) has a habit of dismissing them entirely. it is not blood that binds them together, nor is it family structures, and throughout every iteration of their lives things change. sometimes they’re merely neighbors with a slim portion of blood relation, sometimes they’re bound by flimsy paper or war, and sometimes they’re students at a college following their professor around. the nature of their relationships change, as do their circumstances and surroundings, but they ( as a mismatched unit ) are eternally bound and divided by a child and an inherent, unescapable tragedy. the important aspect of their relationships is that they are agonized individuals who are stuck together and wouldn’t like to be. the important theme between them is that despite their determined suffering, all the bad ways they clash, and in spite of a bubbling self loathing so awful that it literally kills them, they have found love and comfort in each other anyway, or perhaps have realized a love that has always been there. there’s no ‘i love you as a daughter’ between angela and taylor, just as much as there isn’t any ‘i love you as a sibling’ between dennis and tanya. they just love each other. even the clarke family, arguably the most familial bond they have, still isn’t traditional. none of them are blood and all of them are strangers inside their own home. they don’t look alike and they don’t share dna and they typically don��t care for the facade of a family either, more content to treat each other like roommates at best, and that’s fascinating because why would they care? why would standard labels matter to souls as ancient as theirs? it’s just another flesh they adorn, it’s just another pain they’ll carry and shape and hate. idk! i just think forcing titles on it all is rather boring in nature, and actively hinders the genuine relationships there, in an attempt to have a rulebook of sorts to follow. i also just loathe how the found family trope is constantly turned into a literal family, when it was made to spit in the face of a nuclear family structure. but that’s just me <3

[stateofdreaming14]

My hot take of the day is that you don't need to fit found family into nuclear family roles they can just be what they are like you can say "theyre my family" and not have to mean you see them as a parent, sibling, or spouse they can just be family like theyre the people you can always count on and feel a deep soul bond with

I honestly think we can allow for unconventional family dynamics bc they aren't any less profound just bc you can't 1 for 1 map them on to standard relationship dynamics

[serpentandlily]

Birds of a Feather - Azriel x Reader

Birds of a Feather - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel had been your closest friend, made from the very same things as you—birds of a feather, as they say. But you were not the girl he chose to fall in love with. So all you could do was love your mate in the shadows until the day you died.  

Warnings: angst angst angst

A/n: Inspired by Birds of a Feather by Billie Eilish, but this is a more sad interpretation of the song. Hope you enjoy! (Epilogue HERE)

• ───────────────── •

I want you to stay

'Til I'm in the grave

'Til I rot away, dead and buried

'Til I'm in the casket you carry

• ───────────────── •

A flick of golden brown hair caught your eye as Elain tossed her head back with her lilting laughter. So soft. So beautiful. So charming. You could hardly blame Azriel for being so enraptured by her. To him, she was probably the answer to all his questions, all his insecurities and doubt. To have someone like Elain look at him like that…Well, it seemed like it had healed something in him.

Unfortunately for you, it had done the opposite. It had completely destroyed you. Torn your heart into pieces. Opened new wounds and old wounds. It had shined a light on every single insecurity you felt. Because you had been praying for the day that Azriel would look at you the way he looked at her. But that day had never come and it never would.

You hadn’t been good enough for him. Hadn’t been beautiful enough to catch his attention like Mor and Elain had. Hadn’t been sweet enough to serve as a beacon of light for him. Hadn’t been soft enough to bring him comfort. 

You slipped out of the back door. No one even noticed your disappearance, all too happy in this new little family they had created with all three of the Archeron sisters. 

Tears lined your eyes as you hugged yourself, slowly walking along the Sidra towards your apartment. You had been naive to think you’d ever have a love like Feyre and Rhys or Nesta and Cassian. Azriel had been right that night you’d overheard him in the High Lord’s office.

The Cauldron had gotten it wrong. It had gotten it all so wrong.

Azriel was your mate. He was supposed to love and cherish you. Not her. But he had never looked your way once—not like that. You’d been best friends since the dawn of time, since you had entered each other’s lives. But that was all the companionship he could give you.

On nights like this, you almost wished you had told him about the mating bond when it had snapped for you. But you had hoped and prayed that he would come to love you for you and not for the mating bond. So you never spoke a word of it to anyone and maybe that had been your mistake.  

But you didn’t want a love that only existed because of the mating bond. You wanted a love that felt real and deep—with the mating bond only serving as the cherry on top. You didn’t regret not telling him. But you did regret sticking around to watch him fall in love with another girl. 

It didn’t help that Elain was the opposite of you. She was all sunshine and flowers, soft warm bread and honey. You were a creature of the night. You were the moon and its shadows, cryptic and grim. It was why you thought you and Azriel got along so well. You were made of all the same things. But he had always hated that about himself so really, it shouldn’t have been so surprising that he would look for someone who embodied the opposite. 

It hurt though, it hurt so much. 

You were his equal. You lived in the shadows as much as he did. Your soul was made from the same essence as his. You were birds of a feather. You were companions. He was the only one who understood you completely and you were the only one who saw him and loved him as he was—darkness and all. 

You were supposed to stick together through it all.

But…he hadn’t chosen you. 

You finally made it back to your apartment and hung up your coat before collapsing on your bed and letting the sobs ricochet through the utter silence of your home. 

Alone once again. 

As you always would be.

• ───────────────── •

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I know

I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone

Can't change the weather, might not be forever

But if it's forever, it's even better

• ───────────────── •

All you had wanted to do today was get lost in your book and forget about your own life for a few hours. That was what you had planned, why you were even in the private library at the River House. But of course, the Mother decided to spite you once again.

Azriel sat on the armchair across from you, fiddling with Truth-teller as he ranted about Rhysand for the millionth time. He was still upset about your High Lord telling him to stay away from Elain, even though he had completely ignored those orders anyways. As far as you knew, Rhys hadn’t brought it up again. 

Your jaw was clenched as he brought up Lucien, laminating on how much Elain didn’t want him or the mating bond between them. You blinked away the tears that threatened to come. It almost felt like he was talking about the mating bond between the two of you—the one he still had no idea existed. 

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your stomach tossing and turning. You were so in love with the male sitting before you, so in love with your best friend. And here you were, listening to him talk about another girl the way you wished he’d talk about you. 

You cleared your throat when silence finally overtook the library, your eyes darting to the fireplace that was lacking any light—cold and dusty—the same way you felt inside. 

“Don’t you think…” you started, not looking at Azriel, not sure you wanted to say the words lingering in your throat. 

“Do I think what?” Azriel raised an eyebrow at you. 

You looked away again. 

“I don’t know,” you hesitated before continuing, “Don’t you think that Rhys might actually have a point?” 

You were still focused on the fireplace as you awaited his response with a bated breath. It was the first time you’d addressed his interest in Elain without being positive. But you just had to poke at it once—just once to make sure you were right in keeping the mating bond from him. 

“Oh Gods,” Azriel groaned. “Not you, too.”

“I’m just asking,” you said in your defense. “What if…what if in ten years Elain decides she does actually want to give Lucien a shot? The mating bond—”

“Is godsdamn stupid, is what it is,” Azriel scoffed. “She doesn’t want Lucien, Y/n. She wants me. We want each other. Is that such a bad thing?”

“No, I’m not saying that,” you grimaced, “But what if you find your mate? Would you…would you stay with Elain?” 

“Of course I would,” Azriel answered without missing a beat, digging that dagger into your heart a little more. “I don’t have a mate and even if I did, I would only ever feel sorry for her. For being cursed and shackled to me. At least Elain is choosing me. She is choosing me, Y/n. Over her own mate. If that isn’t love, then what is?” 

“I don’t know, Az.” You swallowed harshly, your throat closing up the further this conversation went on. You wanted to scream and sew your mouth shut at the same time. “Is that what this is? Are you truly in love with her?” 

This was it. The question you had been avoiding for months. And his answer would solidify everything. It would either put the nail in the coffin between the two of you or it would lighten the weight on your shoulders for just a minute—give you a modicum of hope to hang onto. 

“I am,” Azriel snapped, surprising you with his sudden ire. He rose from his seat, his eyes narrowing at you. “What is wrong with you? I thought you cared about me. I thought you were my friend, Y/n, and you’re acting just like Rhysand.” 

You shot up from your seat, eyes wide. “No, Az, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way, I just—”

“No, I get it,” Azriel scoffed, cutting you off. His eyes were ice cold. He had never looked at you like that before. It made your heart pause. “You just want me to continue being miserable. Because that’s always been why the two of us got along so well. Both lonely and so unhappy and now that I’m finally not, you want to drag me back down. Maybe one day someone will love you the way me and Elain love each other. But just because no one does right now, does not mean I have to give up my happiness to keep being miserable with you.” 

Tears welled up in your eyes, your lower lip wobbling. All you wanted was Azriel to be happy. It was another reason why you hadn’t said anything about the mating bond. Because he was happy with Elain and you didn’t want to throw a wrench into that. You hadn’t meant anything by asking him those questions—only wanted a bit of closure for yourself. 

Well, you had gotten closure, all right. Azriel would never choose you. He was right. You were miserable and lonely and heartbroken. Why would he choose you? But you hadn’t expected him to be so harsh. A simple yes would’ve done the same. Tears slipped down your cheeks and the anger from Azriel’s eyes was washed away.

But you didn’t stick around to hear his half-assed apology. You couldn’t. Not when your heart was being ripped apart in your chest, not as bile was rising in your hoarse throat. You dropped your book down on the coffee table before fleeing from the room, ignoring his calls of your name as you left.

• ───────────────── •

But you're so full of shit, 

Tell me it's a bit, 

Say you don't see it, your mind's polluted

Say you wanna quit, don't be stupid

• ───────────────── •

Months went by, all meshing together. You had avoided Azriel since that day in the library. It hurt but being around him hurt even more. It was all you could do to protect your already broken heart. He didn’t reach out to you either, instead all of his attention went to Elain. 

Elain who had finally told Lucien she would never accept their bond. 

And so Azriel and her had finally proclaimed their love to the whole family. A family you felt yourself slipping away from bit by bit. No one even seemed to notice. After all, it had always been you and Azriel hiding away in the shadows—content to observe and love from the corners of the room. 

But now it was just you in that corner, all alone. 

You stopped going to family dinners, stopped hanging around the River House, stopped going to training with the Valkyries. You began to disappear from their lives day by day. You couldn’t bring yourself to stay. Not when your mate was in love with someone else—not as they all started new chapters in their lives and left you behind. 

You had overstayed your welcome. No longer Azriel’s closest friend and confidant. No longer Cassian’s sparring buddy. No longer an extra ear for Rhys to run court decisions by. No longer Mor’s dancing partner or Amren’s pupil to bully. 

You became a shadow of yourself. Sleepless nights led to a lack of energy and focus. Constant tears led to being voiceless. You couldn’t even resort to alcohol because it made the steely barrier you had put up to block out the mating bond come tumbling down, flooding you with all of Azriel’s feelings. Happiness, joy, lust, desire, satiation. 

It was just a reminder that you weren’t the one giving him those things. 

But you couldn’t disappear the way you wanted to. Not when a new war started with Koschei. Despite months of not being around, Rhysand still sent you a notice to come to a meeting to discuss strategy and to inform everyone of new developments. 

You wanted to ignore the summons but the thought of Azriel going into battle again without you around to watch his back nearly sent you spiraling. So you made your way to the River House, eyes on the floor the whole time as you stepped inside and hung up your coat. 

You were about to go up the stairs to get to Rhys’s office when a hand on your shoulder stopped you. You spun around and your breath caught in your throat as you came face to face with Azriel. You took a shaky step away from him, your hand coming up to grip at your chest. The mating bond you had been trying to ignore shoved its way through your defenses—bombarding you with Azriel’s emotions once again. 

His hazel eyes were filled with a bit of guilt and remorse. “Y/n, I was wondering if you were going to show up today. I…I’ve been wanting to talk to you but you haven’t been around much.”

Your mouth opened and closed, no words coming out. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. Azriel hesitated for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck before speaking, “I never got to apologize for the things I said to you. It's not an excuse, but Rhys had just laid into me again about Elain before I found you in the library and I took my anger out on you when you were just trying to be a good friend and I am truly sorry for what I said to you. I didn’t mean any of it.” 

“It’s okay,” you mumbled, looking away from him. His words had felt true that day. Besides, what he said to you might’ve been wrong but that didn’t take away from the fact that he was in love with someone else. Regardless of his apology, there was no way you could go back to being his friend. It hurt too much. 

Azriel seemed to be waiting for you to say anything else and his shoulders deflated a bit when he realized you weren’t going to. He gave you a weak smile before summoning something from his shadows. An envelope. He held it out for you to grab. You took it from him with a questioning look. 

“It’s an invitation,” Azriel explained. “Me and Elain are getting married. I wanted to deliver this to you in person. It would mean a lot to have you there, Y/n.” 

You stared at the envelope in your hand. 

Stared and stared and stared. 

Even throughout the whole meeting with the Inner Circle, all you could do was stare at that godsdamn envelope. Because inside of it was the last piece of your broken heart, smashed and weeping. Azriel was getting married…and not to you. To her. 

So when Rhys announced his plans of attack for Koschei and how he needed someone to act as bait for the Death God, you were the first to volunteer because you truly had nothing left to lose. 

• ───────────────── •

And I don't know what I'm crying for

I don't think I could love you more

Might not be long, but baby, I

Don't wanna say goodbye

• ───────────────── •

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit up front with the rest of us?” Feyre asked.

You looked up at her from your seat in the very back of the temple, shaking your head. You gave her a blank look. “No, it’s all right. I’m fine back here. You know I don’t like that attention of sitting near the High Lord and Lady.” 

Feyre gave you an understanding nod. “Okay, but you will sit with us at the reception. I’m not taking no for an answer.” 

You nodded to appease her, knowing you had no intentions of staying past the ceremony. You were only here for one reason—because Azriel had asked you to be here and you could never say no to him. So here you sat, your chest empty and your eyes sore from the tears you spilled last night. 

This wedding felt more like a funeral to you and in some ways, it was. You were saying goodbye to a future you could’ve had with your mate, giving up the final piece of yourself for his sake, and getting to watch him be happy and free, such a bittersweet feeling. All you had ever wished was that he could be happy with you but that was just a dream—that’s all it would ever be. 

Elain looked so beautiful in her wedding gown, as she always did. 

Azriel’s eyes lit up the moment she came through the doorway, striding down the aisle to him. He held out his hand for her, helping her up the steps to stand before him. They didn’t look away from each other for a single moment during the ceremony. He was so in love with her. So in love with her and not you…never you. 

The whole room was bursting with joy but not you. You were happy for him, of course. But you couldn’t help but feel that ache in your chest and everything that came with it. The hurt, the jealousy, the grief. 

Had he even really wanted you here or had it been a pity invite? It didn’t matter because he took no notice of anyone but Elain. So when the ceremony ended and everyone began to make their way to the reception, you slinked into the shadows and disappeared once again. 

• ───────────────── •

I'll love you 'til the day that I die

'Til the day that I die

'Til the light leaves my eyes

'Til the day that I die

• ───────────────── •

The battle was over. Koschei had been defeated. You had gone through with serving as the bait for this plan to work. It had cost so much to finally take him down. So many lives, so much power. And you. It had cost you everything. 

You were dying. Slowly.

But you knew this was the end for you.

Even if you could be saved, you didn’t want to be.

You wanted to let death embrace you in his cold arms.

You wanted to leave behind this life finally.

Everyone was still cheering and hugging with relief when you stumbled back into the war camp. You pressed a hand against the deep wound in your stomach, blood bubbling through the cracks in your fingers as you passed by everyone—no one taking notice of you or your severely injured state.

Not until you made it to the main tent where the rest of the Inner Circle had begun to celebrate the victory. 

It was Feyre who noticed you first, her gasp alerting the rest of them to your presence. But you were only looking at Azriel as you stumbled into the tent, barely making it past the threshold before you crumbled to the ground. You choked on the blood filling up your mouth, some of it trickling out of your lips. 

Azriel shouted your name, pushing Cassian out of his way to get to you. He knelt before you, eyes wide with panic as he grasped your shoulders. In the background, you could faintly hear Rhysand shouting for a healer but you knew it was too late for that. 

You weakly smiled up at Azriel. This is what you wanted. To just see him one last time. To let his face be the last thing you see before death came to take you. You reached a hand out, letting your fingertips brush against his jaw. 

It took you being gravely injured for the mating bond to finally snap in place for him. You knew the minute he realized. The mating bond hummed in your chest but its song was so quiet now…so, so quiet. 

It was slowly fraying as your life dimmed. 

“Mate,” Azriel choked out in a whisper, his hand resting on your cheek. His eyes were still full of panic. “You’re…You’re my mate.” 

You nodded, coughing again and more blood slipped out of your lips and down your chin. Azriel shouted frantically for a healer before focusing on you again, his eyes searching yours. “You knew?” 

You nodded again, your body sagging in his hold. He let out a panicked cry and pulled you into his lap. “How long? How long have you known?” 

“A while,” you managed to croak, your fingers raising to caress his jaw again. 

Azriel stared at you in horror as he shouted again for a healer. You could hear the pounding of feet and other panicked whispers but you tuned it all out. You just wanted to go peacefully. No screaming, no cries. Just you and Azriel for the last second of your life. 

“Why?” he cried out, wiping one of your tears away. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“You…were…happy,” you struggled to get out, your eyes closing with the effort. Azriel shook your body, tears filling up in his eyes.

“No, stay awake, Y/n, you have to stay awake,” Azriel pleaded with you. “The healer is almost here, okay. Just stay awake a little longer.” 

“I-It’s…okay,” you mumbled. “Want…want to go.” 

You coughed again, blood splatting your face. Azriel released a cry that nearly caused the ground to shake. “No, you can’t. You can’t go. You’re my mate, Y/n. You can’t do this to me!” 

“I’ll find…you…again,” you slurred out. “Maybe…maybe I’ll be…good enough….then.” 

You blinked once, your vision blurry but you could see Azriel’s beautiful face. Gods, he was so beautiful. He was screaming something but your hearing went along with your vision, slowly worsening until finally, your heart stopped beating in your chest. 

And with that, the pain was finally gone. 

• ───────────────── •

I knew you in another life

You had that same look in your eyes

I love you, don't act so surprised

• ───────────────── •

Epilogue

[satellite-evans]

Bisous

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Summary: Charles' daughter loves to prank him <3

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: fluff

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The morning sun began its slow ascent over the horizon, filtering through the sheer curtains of your Monaco apartment. The soft, honey-hued glow that spread across the room seemed to breathe life into every corner. The elegant furniture, a blend of sleek modernity and comfortable coziness, caught the light in just the right way, creating an atmosphere of peaceful serenity. Outside, the sounds of the city were a distant hum—a low, constant pulse that blended with the faint rustling of leaves from the balcony plants, which swayed gently in the breeze. Every so often, you could hear the soft cry of seagulls soaring above the harbor, a reminder of the water that lay just beyond the city’s edge. Together, these sounds formed a comforting melody, one that had become the soundtrack to your mornings. It was a rhythm you cherished deeply, a moment of stillness amidst the sometimes overwhelming pace of life.

The rich, inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifted from the kitchen, swirling through the air and wrapping around you like a cozy embrace. It was your daily ritual—the one constant in your life that always brought a sense of calm. The familiar scent, warm and robust, settled in your chest as you took a slow, deep breath, savoring it. No matter how chaotic the rest of the day might become, this quiet moment was yours. It was the calm before the storm, the stillness before the world outside demanded your attention.

However, as is often the case with motherhood, this tranquil morning wouldn’t last long.

The soft, rhythmic sound of tiny feet pattering against the hardwood floor quickly broke the serenity. You turned just in time to see Amelie—your 2.5-year-old whirlwind—darting through the living room, her chestnut curls bouncing with every step. She was full of energy, her cheeks flushed with excitement, as she chased Leo, the family dog, around the room. The dog, who was equally enthusiastic, skidded around the furniture, dodging her tiny hands that reached for him. Her laughter echoed throughout the apartment, a sound so pure and infectious that it filled the space with a warmth only she could bring.

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched the playful scene unfold from the kitchen. Despite the exhaustion that motherhood often brought, these moments—these bursts of joy—made it all worth it. The sight of Amelie, with her sparkling eyes that seemed to mirror Charles’ in their depth, and her tiny arms flailing as she ran after the dog, made your heart swell. She was the perfect blend of him—her father—and you.

It was almost hard to believe how fast she was growing up. Just a few months ago, she was still babbling nonsensically, and now she could say over 180 words (yes, you had counted them all), stringing together simple sentences that left you in awe. The way she repeated words, mimicking both you and Charles, was nothing short of miraculous. Each new sentence felt like a little victory, a reminder of how quickly time passed.

Amelie’s bond with Charles was a thing of its own. The two of them were inseparable, a pair that seemed destined for each other from the moment she was born. When Charles was home, she followed him everywhere, clinging to him with a love that was both adorable and touching. It was no surprise that her first word had been ‘Papa.’ Whenever Charles was around, her little world seemed to revolve around him, her every action drawing him into her orbit.

Today, though, was different. Today was special. Charles was finally coming home after weeks of being away for races. The moment Amelie heard the news that morning, she could hardly contain herself. She’d been bouncing on the bed, her tiny legs kicking in excitement, her high-pitched voice squealing with joy. "Papa come today! Maman, me excited!" she had exclaimed, her face lighting up with the kind of joy that only a child could express.

You couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm, pulling her into your arms for a quick hug. "I know, baby, I’m excited too," you said softly, brushing her curls out of her face. "But you have to save some of that energy for Papa so you can play together later, okay?"

Amelie nodded, her excitement practically radiating off her. "Otay, Maman," she had replied, her eyes gleaming with anticipation and went straight to the living room.

That promise was long forgotten as she was now chasing Leo around the living room, they were running around as though the whole apartment was their personal racetrack. The scene was one of pure chaos, but it was the kind of chaos that made life so full.

"Amelie Leclerc, can you please stop chasing Leo?" You called out playfully, though you could barely keep up with her giggles and the sound of her tiny feet tapping across the floor. You tried to grab her, but she managed to duck away with a squeal of laughter, running in the opposite direction.

Despite the exhaustion you could already feel creeping in, you couldn’t help but smile. Watching her run, her little body so full of life, it was impossible to not be filled with love. You finally caught her, scooping her up into your arms, the warmth of her small frame against you grounding you in the moment.

"What's up with you, young lady? Where is all this energy coming from?" You asked, brushing the hair out of her face. "It’s not even noon yet, and Maman is already tired." You teased, brushing the hair out of her face.

You carried her to the kitchen and began preparing her breakfast. Charles had always been very careful about her diet, ensuring she had balanced, healthy meals, and you followed that lead. Today’s breakfast was simple but wholesome—milk, cereal, a little fruit, and a slice of whole wheat toast, all made with love. She ate everything, happily chatting about how she was going to greet Charles and show him her new toy car collection. Her excitement was palpable, filling the space around you with a warmth that seemed to echo the sunlight streaming through the windows.

After breakfast, you helped Amelie get ready, brushing her hair and letting her pick out a pink bow to match her outfit—a red Ferrari T-shirt and tiny denim shorts. As she twirled around, admiring herself in the mirror, she beamed with pride. "Look, Maman! I am beautiful!"

Your heart swelled with love for her, your eyes soft with affection. "Yes, you are, honey—the most beautiful girl I have ever seen," you told her, your voice thick with emotion.

Just as you were about to sit down on the couch, the front door creaked open, and the familiar sound of Leo’s excited bark filled the apartment. The dog’s tail wagged furiously as he bolted toward the door, clearly recognizing the scent of the one person he always welcomed with open arms—Charles. You turned toward the door, and your heart skipped a beat as you saw your husband step inside, his face lighting up the moment he saw you.

Leo sprinted toward him, jumping up to cover him in kisses, and Charles laughed as he crouched down to greet him. "Hey, Leo! Did you take care of our girls? Good boy!" he chuckled, scratching the dog’s ears.

You ran to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Hey, baby. Welcome home," you whispered against his skin, your heart racing at the feel of him in your arms once more. His familiar scent enveloped you, grounding you in the moment.

Charles’s response was immediate. He cupped your face with both hands, his lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was both urgent and tender. A soft, needy sigh escaped him as his lips trailed down to your jaw, then to the side of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, and his hands roamed down your back, pulling you tighter to him as though he never wanted to let go.

"God, I missed you so much," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. His hands slid into your hair, gently tugging you closer, burying his face in the softness of it. "I thought about you every damn day. Your scent... the way you feel in my arms… I couldn’t wait to come home to you guys. Speaking of, where's Amelie? I missed her like crazy."

That was a good question. Normally, Amelie would be the first one to run to him, her little feet pounding against the hardwood floor as she squealed with excitement. But today, when you turned to see her, there she was, still sitting on the couch, staring intently at the TV, completely oblivious to her father’s return.

You raised an eyebrow, confused. “Amelie, look! Papa is home! Aren’t you happy?” You called out gently, stepping toward her with Charles following close behind. The two of you sat down in front of her, a bit hesitant, unsure of what was going on.

Charles leaned forward slightly, his voice soft but laced with concern. “Hey, chérie, Papa is home! Didn’t you miss me?” He gave her a hopeful smile, but his eyes betrayed a hint of nervousness, clearly wondering if she’d forgotten him after all this time.

You joined in, trying to jog her memory. “Amelie, remember how excited you were this morning? You even picked your outfit for Papa.” You smiled as you spoke, trying to make the connection for her.

Amelie paused, still staring at the TV, her little fingers absently tracing the edge of her shirt. Then, without any warning, she leaned in and gave you a big, sloppy kiss right on the lips, her face lighting up with affection. “MUAH! Maman, I love you,” she said in her sweetest little voice, her eyes sparkling with pure love.

You were taken aback for a moment, smiling warmly at her. You could feel the surprise and confusion rising in Charles’s gaze, his mouth slightly open as he looked from Amelie to you. Why wasn’t she rushing to him, as she always did?

The silence hung in the air for a moment before Charles spoke up again, his voice tinged with disbelief. “I knew it. She forgot me! Mon Dieu, my own daughter forgot me!” He let out an exaggerated groan, clutching his chest in mock despair.

You couldn’t help but laugh, though a part of you shared the same confusion. You reached over and gently placed a reassuring hand on his chest, your thumb brushing over his shirt as you looked up at him with a small smile. “Relax, Charles. She was ecstatic this morning. Maybe she’s just shy. You know how she can get when she's in a new mood.”

Charles gave you a skeptical look, but before he could say anything else, Amelie turned toward you again and planted another kiss on your cheek. “MUAH! Maman is mine,” she said, giggling as she gave you a tight hug.

The affectionate gesture only made Charles’s face drop even further. He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “I’ve been replaced, haven’t I? She’s all yours now, Maman.”

Just as Charles began to stand up, clearly disheartened, Amelie’s expression suddenly shifted. A twinkle danced in her eyes, and before either of you could react, she burst out laughing, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Surprise, Papa! I joke youuu!”

With a squeal of laughter, Amelie jumped off the couch and ran straight into Charles’s arms. He was caught off guard for a moment, but then, as if on instinct, he swept her up into his arms, his heart visibly lifting as he pulled her close.

“Oh my God, Amelie, you pranked Papa! You got me so good, chérie!” Charles laughed, his voice full of relief and pure joy as he kissed her cheeks over and over, showering her with affection. “Papa thought you forgot about him! You’re going to be trouble, little one.”

Amelie giggled, her tiny hands grasping his face, and with all the innocence of a child, she responded, “I remember you. Always. I love you, Papa.”

Charles’s eyes softened, and he blinked away a tear that had unexpectedly formed. He held her tightly, his voice full of emotion. “I love you too, mon amour,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

You watched the scene unfold, feeling a rush of warmth flood through you. It was moments like these that made everything worthwhile—the simple, genuine love and affection that filled your home.

Amelie, still clinging to her father’s neck, turned toward you eagerly. “Papa, play cars with me now?” she asked, her voice full of anticipation.

Charles smiled, the familiar light returning to his eyes as he nodded. “Of course, let’s go! But first, a big group hug.” He pulled you both in close, wrapping his arms tightly around you and Amelie. The three of you stood there for a moment, savoring the closeness, the warmth of your little family.

“I love my girls,” he whispered, his voice filled with adoration.

You kissed his cheek, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and love in your heart. “And we love you too,” you replied, your words sincere and full of warmth.

[jaggedamethyst]

clandestine

viktor (arcane) x stripper f!reader

pairing: viktor (arcane) x f!reader

content: 18+ minors dni, smut, not thigh but lap riding, strip club obviously, some cursing, porn some plot idk, established relationship, secret relationship, not proofread

notes: i am not personally a stripper, but I have somehow seen a lot of movies and youtube vloggers explaining the culture and mindset they have…about doing this to get them to a next phase of their life. some people may not feel that way at all, and just do it to feel empowered….or literally just because its a job. no reason is more valued than the other, and I hope I did this justice because I have the utmost respect for every job. please let me know if anything isn’t hitting the way it should in that regard and i will make the edits <3

also, not an au… this was kinda inspired by lest. idk if it was ever confirmed, but the character kinda reads to me as a sex worker and I do love that. normalize including those stories in media.

word count: 2.1k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Stepping into the building always felt particularly specific for Viktor. The music was melodic but slightly too loud. Flashing lights almost always sent him off balance, leaning into his cane. A vibration pulsed—bouncing off every wall hard enough to make him physically swat the feeling away with his head. Yet, whenever he’d find his seat and glance across the room—all of it faded away.

Had there not been a physical spotlight, Viktor could still find you a mile away. He was completely entranced, mesmerized by the way you moved—even more so by the fact that it was an act. You were sweet, saccharine even, and you never showed it. That side was all for him. Only him.

When you were at the club, there was a veil over you—projecting a unique exterior. Dancing allowed you to disconnect and channel an identity you didn’t in everyday life. Often, you were misunderstood. Even more common was for you to be ignored—it wasn’t like that at work. You were respected and held at the same regard as everyone else. There were rules, and everyone followed them. You were an equal and you appreciated that.

Regardless of that feeling on stage, the money was also damn good. You grew up in the Undercity and you knew what it was like to have nothing. This fact was something you and Viktor bonded over initially. Later, both of your intellect and fondness for academics. He empathized, too, with you having no family…even more the fact that you started this venture to pay for your studies. That’s how the two of you found yourself dating. There was an unwavering kindness about Viktor, you loved that. The secrecy made every interaction all the more interesting, especially in the confines of the Piltover club.

The shift started like any other. You were on stage, moving to the rhythm of your song, Lest in your peripheral. You’d often recall how she was the first person to make you feel truly comfortable. She’d linger during your sets, calling security when needed, even speaking up for you when she realized you couldn’t. Lest gave you the push to take control, and the money really showed it.

You glanced down a bit, seeing some of your money get swept to the side. Lest had your labeled basket in her hands, grabbing some out of the way for you. In that split second, you saw a glint toward the back corner. You smirked, seeing your boyfriend spread on a chair—observing you through low eyes. You sped your tempo up, the stage now cleared enough for you.

Viktor noticed your arched a brow and stifled a chuckle. As you picked up the pace, he leaned back more comfortably in the chair. A hand held onto his cane, knuckles paling at the forceful grip. His other hand rested on the chair. His legs spread entirely, something he knew you loved. He was locked in, eyes roaming over every inch of your body as you danced. Your back was to him, then, ass shaking seductively in a way he’d always appreciated. You bent simultaneously, making a show of your legs before dropping into a split. You rolled your neck, looking toward Viktor. He watched your hand trace over your leg before tapping on it twice with a smile.

You’d definitely seen him back there.

Lest gave a knowing smirk, nodding over her shoulder “I see you spotted your regular.”

“Sure did.” You laughed at that, swinging your legs around. “It’s gonna be a fun night.”

“Oh I can tell.”

Lest didn’t know the two of you were dating, nobody did. That was the allure. Viktor could be the “regular” who showed up and dotted on you while you played the helpless stripper who so desperately needed his money. Neither were true, except that Viktor did love to spend his money on you.

Lest spoke up again, “You should head back there, before he gets restless…you know how they are.”

You moved to stand, doing a final spin and wave to the audience. “You’re right…can’t miss out on the money.”

“Exactly.” You moved to help add the rest of your money to the basket, Lest gripping it for dear life. “I’ll put this in the usual spot. We can do count after you rake in the big bucks.”

You high-fived Lest, watching as she turned immediately. You turned away, too, knowing that the chance of any of your money being taken was close to zero. You’d trust her with your life—so much so that you often debated telling her more about yourself outside of the club. Part of you figured she knew about your relationship and just played along. The thought of that made you love her friendship even more.

There was a drag in your step. You purposely made your strides slow as you inched toward the corner Viktor had chosen for tonight. His eyes had yet to leave you, but his free hand circled the arm rest. He was pent up, which was perfect, you thought.

He watched as you finally reached him, standing over his seated figure with your hands on your hips. You spoke first, yelling a bit over the music. “Funny seeing you here.”

He played along, eyes raking over your body. “I frequent here relatively often, do I not?”

You shrugged, looking away, “One could say that.”

He smiled, moving to stand up. You were a bit shorter than him, but slightly taller now thanks to your heels. He glanced down at them in adoration, loving the feeling of looking up at you. “You were stellar, love.”

You raised your head, flicking your hair. “Thank you, baby.” Your eyes lingered on one another, the genuine feeling of affection sitting between you both. Leaning down to whisper in his ear, you broke that sweet feeling. You played to his true intention; you knew why he was here. “Wanna go somewhere more private?” You let your lips linger for a second, hands coming up to rub his neck and behind his ears with your thumbs. “I know a place.”

He watched you pull back, looking up through his lashes. The smile on your face absolutely melted him. He reached down, slowly searching his pocket. He flipped up a bill that was settled between two fingers. “Lead the way.”

You plucked the money from him and grasped his now empty hand. The exchange had its own unspoken rules—Viktor would always pay, you would let him. The inherently degrading nature never found its way to your relationship but was instead a way to keep up appearances. For Viktor, it was yet another way to show his love for you. He’d give it all if he could—you deserved it.

He followed you, stalking behind your enticing figure. You’d shift every so often, your reflection moving with the tone of the lights. The sound reverberated off of you both, pulsing between your interlocked fingers. The bass slowly faded as you walked down the long hallway, even more so as you entered the secluded room.

The lights were low, a quiet music lulling in the room. Candles lit the area and added a hint of vanilla to the air Viktor appreciated—it smelled like you. He closed his eyes at the thought, enveloped by the scent and feeling of your skin on his palm. You glanced up, observing that the light on the cameras had been switched off. You huffed gratefully, knowing you had to thank Lest again later.

Viktor felt the pull of your hands and mindlessly followed until his back met the couch. He cleared his throat, looking over to you beside him. “So,” he paused, “How was your day?”

“Do you actually want to know how my day was?” You pursed your lips, sarcasm riddled all over them. “Or are you just indulging me so you seem like a gentleman?”

Viktor was frazzled at that, “What? No…” He brushed a hand to move his hair out of his face, “No! I would like to know-“

A kiss to his cheek interrupted him, “I know.” You nodded slowly. “But you should just ask for what you really want…I’m a busy woman after all.”

The flicker in his eye was one you genuinely loved—the switch from caring boyfriend to infatuated client.

“And what is it you think I want?” A hand brushed over your cheek, his thumb slowly finding its way to your lips. He looked down, rubbing his fingers across your skin.

You reached down, then, a hand firmly landing on his thigh. You maintained eye contact as you spoke—sliding a hand further up his leg. “I think I have a pretty good idea…”

“Is that so?” Viktor leaned back further to adjust his lap and purposely push his hardened length into your palm.

The two of you leaned in closer, the pull of each other undeniable. Slowly, your lips collided. There was an urgency, yet neither of you acted on it—an attempt to savor the moment. You maneuvered then, lips still connected. Viktor hummed against your mouth—a sound that left you smiling as you pushed a leg over his lap.

The once soft push of your lips together was now bordering on frantic. Every so often, Viktor would move to pull and suck on one of your lips—urging you on. You were lost in the motion—in him. Your hands snaked up the back of his neck and tangled with the hair at the base of his neck. With a forceful tug, you pulled him back. He was looking at you now, face flushed and lips completely swollen and glistening. Looking at him this way already had your underwear dampening. You refused to break eye contact, lowering yourself just on top of Viktor. Sucking in a breath, he tilted his head back—leaning into the couch cushion.

You began to circle your hips. The friction of the restrained material had you feral. “Fuck…” You continued, slowly circling and moving up and down his erection. “Fuck, Viktor.”

He matched you motion suddenly, circling his hips up into you. The motion had your insides pulsing. You couldn’t keep up the act, leaning down into the warmth of his neck. You felt him kiss and suck on your neck. He trailed kisses up and around your ear—moving around your hairline. His hands found your back, pulling you into him even more. Erratic breaths filled the room. All that was missing, you thought, were the lewd sounds of slapping you so desired. You’d give anything to be fully naked right now, letting him work all over you. But there was no time. The thought only spurred you on.

He spoke suddenly, “I needed this.”

“I know,” You push and pull into him faster, “Me too.”

The fabric barrier between the two of you was soaked now, a mixture of both of you. You slid back a bit, arms length distance away from Viktor. His mouth was agape from the lack of sensation, but quickly lost any will to argue when you began to swirl on his tip. He was always so sensitive there—and you were close. The rubbing on your clit had your breath shallow, your motions less rhythmic. He noticed, grabbing your waist to guide you to a speed that had both of your eyes rolling back.

“I’m close….”

Viktor pulled you into a kiss and mumbled into your mouth. “I am too.”

With a few more pumps against each other, you were finishing all over each other’s clothes. You accidentally broke the kiss, gasping for the breath that escaped you at the burning sensation in your body. Viktor didn’t stop, though, pulling you in impossibly closer. He worked the both of you through, choking out a whine as he shot out ropes into his pants.

The two of you sat there, embracing each other for a while. The feeling of each other was enough in the moment—drowning out the sensory overload of the club. Your finger tips traced over his features. You smoothed over his brows, the moles by his eye and lip, the divets in his cheekbones. He was entirely mesmerized by you—a devotion all over his face.

Light taps at the door broke the moment. You knew it would be Lest; she’d often drop by when you took a bit longer than management would like for just one customer. Opening the door a crack, you saw a pile there—a change of clothes for you and a smaller hand towel. You scooped them up quickly, moving back into the room.

Viktor was still watching you, a hand finding its way back to his cane. His grasp wasn’t as tight as before, you smiled to yourself at that.

You stripped quickly, moving to clean yourself and change your clothes. “Missed you today.”

Viktor pushed himself forward in the seat. “And I, you.” He staggered over to you, a hand pushing in and out of his pocket. He held up a bill again, “We should do this again sometime.”

A small chuckle escaped you. “Sure, baby.” You pecked a kiss on his cheek as he walked by you. “I’ll see you at home.”

[simmerkate]

Xtra Interactions Mod v3

Take your Sims' social lives to the next level with the Xtra Interactions Mod, now updated to Version 3! This mod introduces a variety of unique, thought-provoking, and entertaining social interactions that bring more depth, realism, and storytelling opportunities to your game. Whether your Sims are debating ethical topics, bonding over family discussions, or simply sharing their love for food, this mod offers something for everyone.

What’s New in Version 3?

New Pie Menu: Family A dedicated Family Pie Menu has been added, offering unique interactions for children, teens, parents, and siblings to enhance family relationships and dynamics. These include:

Child Interactions: Ask for a new sibling, show a birthday gift list, share future dreams, ask about the family tree, or request a new pet.

Teen to Parent Interactions: Discuss college plans, ask to increase allowance, express annoyance at siblings, talk about romances, request prom outfit payments, or confess to skipping school.

Sibling Interactions: Argue over clothes or bathroom time, ask for crush advice, gossip about parents, share concerns about friends, or simply express sibling love.

New Health and Wellness Interactions Expand your Sims' self-care conversations with interactions like:

Share anti-aging tips

Compare morning routines

Discuss the benefits of hydration

Talk about vaccinations

Encourage therapy

Express love for yoga

Talk about "turkey teeth" (cosmetic dental work)

New Activism Interactions (Pie Menu) Help your Sims champion causes they care about with socially-conscious interactions:

Debate animal testing

Debate wage equality

Talk about cleaning the oceans

Discuss saving the turtles

Explore AI ethics

Share wacky water-saving tips

Debate paper vs. plastic

Discuss protesting

Expanded Foodies Talk (Pie Menu) Food-loving Sims can now engage in even more culinary-themed conversations:

Talk about cooking classes

Swap recipes

Debate food trends

Discuss favorite cheeses

Loads of New Buffs Every interaction comes with its own unique positive or negative buffs, bringing a variety of emotional outcomes to your Sims’ social lives. These buffs add depth and unpredictability to gameplay, from joyous moments to tension-filled disagreements.

Why Download the Xtra Interactions Mod?

This mod adds depth and personality to your Sims, making every social interaction meaningful and engaging. It offers:

Diverse Topics: From health and wellness to activism and family dynamics, your Sims can discuss contemporary and relatable topics.

Unique Buffs: Many interactions come with positive or negative emotional buffs, adding variety to outcomes and enriching gameplay.

Enhanced Storytelling: Create richer narratives with dynamic social interactions that impact relationships and moods.

Perfect For

Players who love storytelling and want deeper relationships between Sims.

Simmers looking for new and exciting interactions that add realism and complexity to the game.

Families, foodies, and activists looking for a new way to express their Sims' personalities.

Public Release - 3rd February Download (xx) ad-free

[r3ynah]

Married in the past, married in the present

To think that the Amity Trio would get dragged by their children (Dan and Dani) into another universe as a form of vacation and to escape the annoying palace councils, was not something to be expected in the Fenton-Nightangle-Foley-Manson family. it was due for a vacation anyways.

But here's the catch, They decided they should atleast take a two month break with each other so they can explore this universe more, but they did agree that every 2 weeks they'll pass the custody of their kids with each other.

It was very eventful to say the least,

Tucker, got adopted. by the one and only Bruce Wayne how?? he doesn't know either, the only thing he can remember was Bruce Wayne shoving a couple of adoption papers in his face, and now he was suddenly a Wayne, he certainly was not complaining he gets to use their advance technologies without it getting corrupted by his partner Danny(he loved the guy, but he needed his daily screen time too.)

He finds out about their secret identities two days in, was not completely surprised to find a cave downstairs, "Every billionare has one, you're not unique." was his words before he went on and explore the cave leaving a very confused batfam. he agreed to help them but if its only for hacking and stuff connected to technology, and to only join them if it's really a life changing scenario.

He was the second one to have Dan and Dani, so when they found out they're dad got adopted by a rich billionaire they were equally disappointed, Tucker tried to defend himself for his poor decision, to say the batfam was shocked once again was an understatement, imagine finding that their new brother had two children and two partners was lnot part of their new years plan. Dan and Dani only took a couple of hours for them to fit in.

Sam, went on and became a vigilante, under Harley Quinn and poison ivy's care, with almost the same powers as Ivy and same humor as Harley the three of them certainly became close friends.

Sam definitely had fun blowing up factories, and proceed to prank cops and officials, she had a run with the infamous batfam a couple of times, mostly Robin, the first time they've met they had a spar with their own weapons ofcourse,but at the same time all Sam could think was: 'the hell's a kid doing vigilante work?'. Eventually they have bonded over different weapons and fighting styles, Batman had atleast tried to recruit Sam who goes by Foliahàrà at some point, but was turned down quite harshly.

She was the first one to take care of their children, Ivy loved Dan's brutality and Harley adored Dani's chaotic self. so they became the fun cool aunts of the two children, they have somepoint asked one peaceful breakfast who the other parents are, But the only thing Sam had said was they'll meet them someday.

Danny becomes a villain, a mad scientist to be exact wondering what'll happen if he follows in his parents footsteps, he also works alongside with Mr.Freeze, and they discuss a cure together for Mr.Freeze's wife,.

He doesn't use his ghost powers in villainy his explanation? Phantom was for the good and peace. While Fenton-Nightangle was for the bad and destruction. it certainly was a shitshow when he first debuted, lets just say Gotham had an early snow day, about 20 meters of snow covered Gotham for a week. The worst part is that the snow doesn't melt. so the only thing they could've do was to sit and watch as only Fenton was able to melt the snow.

Danny was the last to get his kids, so as a responsible parent he let them go crazy, for the whole two weeks as long they keep their identities a secret and to be back at lunch, dinner, curfew and family night. which led to a bunch of rogues getting hunted and tied up by a pair of ghost kids. It was a peaceful quiet two weeks for Gotham.

'this is absolutely hilarious' Tucker known as Codelith mentally chuckled as his bat family including Foliahàrà who was sitting across him also tied up, he knew it was Sam the first moment he laid his eyes on her. no one does eyeliner as thick as Sam. Speaking of Sam she was glaring at him from across the room.

from different audiences it may have look like the two was going to kill eachother, but in reality its just their love language. The batfam looked at them confused.

"Codelit." Sam greeted in a annoyed tone.

"Foliahàrà." Tucker greeted in a more joyful tone.

"You two know eachother?" Duke questioned, as he eyed the two. very confused on why the two of them almost have the same green toxic light surrounding them.

"Ofcourse we do, we're ma-" Sam was cut off, by the sound of someone maniacally laughing. fate seemed to be a bitch because in strolled Joker himself holding a bloodied crowbar.

Tucker can feel Red hood relive his trauma, from where his sitting, he didn't really focused on the Jokers dramatic speech, because all he can think was the safety of his new family he grew comfortable with. thank fuck Dan and Dani aren't here.

"What's this a new birdie? Batman.. you sure like taking in a lot of children, how generous of you." this finally caught tucker's attention when as he saw joker walking towards him, his family stayed quiet but kept watching Joker's movements they looked constipated Tucker almost let out a snort but kept it in.

"Codelith wasn't it, Very unique I wonder why you picked it."Joker asked with a chuckle that made tucker want to puke. "Not talkative ey? well that's alright.

"I don't need you to talk." Joker playfully picked up his crowbar, then placed it on Tucker's shoulder dangerously close to his head."I just need you to scream."

He saw Sam trying to use her powers in the background, which unfortunately wasn't working because she's too used making exaggerated movements when using her plant powers, he remembers her saying that it makes it more easy to manipulate the greens around her, so she definitely had trouble controlling it while tied up, after all there was so little wrist movement to work with.

He sent a warning gaze to his Family and wife. to not make any sudden moves, which made Sam hesitantly stop, It was different with the batfam though they were really trying to be free from the ropes.

He returned his attention to joker, who was still waiting for an answer. "He's coming." was all he said, this only made joker grin, and the Bats confused. While Sam immediately got it.

Joker laughed fucking ugly laugh if Tucker said so himself, the rogue pointed at his new family's direction 'Who's he? can't you see new birdie they're all here no one's going to get you!"

And then Joker lifted his crowbar then struck down at Codelith's head, a awful sound resonated across the building, Fuck that's going to leave a nasty concussion. he felt blood dripping from his nose, as he heard the shouts and screams of the Bats and Sam. Oh Sam, I'm alright, Everything's okay, He can feel Foliahàrà's panic and anger from here.

Its okay, he's okay, because he's here.

Tucker grinned fucking grinned, like a villain type of grin. he looked up at Joker's direction and said:"He's here."

And then the wall blew up, making everyone in the warehouse startled, Here comes in the man itself. Fenton fucking Nightangle. with a smile plastered on his face he strutted in with full confidence, damn that's attractive Sam and Tucker agreed with each other.

"Joker." was all Fenton said, as he looked at the man with no emotion, his gaze landed on Sam then landed on Tucker who's blood was dripping on the floor, the only thing that Danny saw was green.

HURT?/PAIN?/IN DANGER.

"Mr. Fenton! are you also here to watch the show?"Joker grinned teeth showing and all. "It's such a pleasure for you to be her-"

Danny walked passed Joker, Never giving him a chance to finish, he focused his gaze infront of him and went towards Tucker and cupped his face making sure he wasn't hurt that much.

"Ah... ofcourse you would immediately go to them, so silly of me!"Joker laughed.

"What do you mean by that?" Batman asked suspicously, as he made sure the Fenton boy didn't hurt his new son.

"Don't tell me you don't know Batsy! gosh darn am I the one that'll say this so exciting." The irritating man chuckled. "Well if you didnt know Batman, Dr.Fenton, Foliahàrà, and Codelith are all married together!"

The Bats let out a gasp of surprise as they looked at the trio, who remained quiet.

"I know right! such a wonderful love story." Joker wiped a fake tear. "Too bad I have to kill you all, Dr. Fenton you might've taken the town in surprise by your so wonderful inventions, but you are nothing without your gadgets." Joker explained while twirling the crowbar in his hands.

Danny let out a chuckle, his back facing the green haired man. "I see that you've made some research about us Joker."

"Yes, you are quite right, I am married to Codelith and Foliahàrà, But there's something you've missed in your research." Fenton continued, he can hear Red robin in the background saying "I don't believe Codelith can pull two fine people." who was shushed by Nightwing.

"And what would that be? please entertain me Doctor." Joker grinned.

"My Hero name's Phantom." With that Danny made a slashing motion as he swiftly faced the Joker face to face, not even a second later half of the warehouse was engulfed by ice including Joker.

Hair white as now. skin pale as a paper, and eyes green as toxic radiation, he once again faced. The vigilantes with a smile and said:

"Well that was an eventful night, who wants Fudge?"

[neptuneiris]

Wild Hearts | (One Shot)

'you, it's always been you'

pairing: prince!aemond × lowborn!reader

summary: you and he can't be together, yet the two of you have fallen for each other. but the Gods are not merciful and you both have to let go. but by comparison, your charming prince doesn't think the same way you do.

word count: 8.6k

next part • main masterlist

this is the new idea that I was talking about hehe🤭

i hope you like it a lot and first of all, i want you to know that there will be part two and nothing else. so enjoy this, dig it and let me know your opinion that is the most excited i am to read❤

enjoy and thank you so much for your support beautiful people!

warnings: angst, sex content, arranged married, minor mentions of cuts and blood, smut but not so elaborate.

The Gods can be cruel.

And for some time they have been cruel, especially to you.

You are a lady, yes, but not of a great house enough to be worth anything really big and significant. All your father can offer the Realm is a few soldiers, horses and you.

You are the only daughter of an arranged marriage trying to find their place among the Court. And when you are born a woman, your duty is to marry a suitable man, please him and give birth to as many children as possible.

That was your purpose in coming to King's Landing after Queen Alicent approved your stay at the Red Keep and you became a lady-in-waiting to the highborn ladys who also remain at Court.

But no one, not even you, could have prevented that those plans would no longer be a priority for you the moment you met Prince Aemond Targaryen.

You knew of the one-eyed prince's reputation, as well as his brutality in combat, his cold behavior and also of his recognition as the rider of the largest dragon in the world. But most of all, you knew that his disinterested and sometimes mean personality... was due to how he lost his eye at such a young age.

But that was what he wanted to show all the people of the Court and its visitors.

After such humiliating years of trying to prove himself while at the same time listening to whispers and rumors about him and the pity he caused people for losing his eye, Aemond had no interest in pleasing the Court, so he was just mean, disinterested and cold.

But with you it was all different.

Perhaps it was being alone for so long that he finally got tired of himself and let you in and see his other side, his true side that very few were privileged to see. After all, you were just a lowborn lady who had lived her whole life with the same duty as him: to please the Realm and fill its needs.

But even he never imagined that you and he would understand each other so well.

The gleam of his violet eye, charged with an unusual intensity and determination, the effect he made you feel when you looked back at him and saw his patch covering his left socket and the way he spoke and behaved with you, triggered a wave of unknown emotions and expectations in you.

Your first casual encounter with the prince began in the library, where you exchanged literary tastes. You revealed your fascination for the history of the Andals, as well as shared with him how interesting you found the stories of his family, the Targaryens.

And he shared with you his admiration for history and philosophy as well.

Your casual encounters with him continued in the library and before long, those encounters extended to walks in the gardens. Those walks became a mostly secret habit, where you not only shared equal opinions about books and history, but where you both got to know each other a little more.

And despite the growing friendship and the bonds that intertwined with every conversation and interaction, the weight of undeniable reality persisted.

However, neither of you stopped.

On some trips he had to make, on every return he would always bring some gift for you, whether it was a piece of jewelry or a new book that you don't have access to, to leave secretly in you chamber. Or he would even surprise you with a rare flower that is not seen in the Crowlands, handing it to you so delicately while you tried to keep the blush on your cheeks from being so obvious.

You too tried to look casual when you went to the training yard just to watch him train discreetly, admiring his skills and in every fight smiling proudly every time he made his opponents surrender to him.

And in the midst of everything and everyone, his violet eye always met yours.

At banquets and celebrations it was also the same. The two of you couldn't engage in conversation as such, at least not alone, so all night long, you could only exchange glances and act like complete strangers.

But in the occasional places where the two of you meet and no one else is around, you can act completely free.

He shared with you the story of how he claimed Vhagar, told you more about the history of his ancestors, even taught you some High Valyrian words, while you, who in comparison to him do not possess anything as great and exciting as he does, share with him your thoughts, dreams and tastes.

You both became friends. You became the friend he didn't know he needed and you definitely didn't expect someone like him, especially him, to enjoy your company so much.

And during those years, you couldn't blame the Gods for falling completely in love with the prince.

That was your total freedom and decision, even though you knew how impossible the situation was and that the two of you could probably never be together.

Your house is not worth enough to allow a union between you and a prince of the Realm. It was also useless to suggest it, because the answer would be no, both from the Queen and from your parents, who would have been totally pleased.

But Aemond is destined for more, you know that. And that more is definitely not you and not even close.

And despite this, you couldn't help but imagine as a fleeting dream the moment when he and you unite and become one. A dream that will never happen in which you finally become his wife and you can call him yours, just as he can also call you his, in body and soul.

But that dream is finally shattered when they announce the official betrothal between him and Lady Floris Baratheon.

It was something that was eventually going to happen, you knew it was going to happen, but still, the news takes you by surprise and your heart breaks into pieces, while everyone around you rejoices at the news and approves.

The days following the betrothal announcement become dark and sad for you. You retreat most of your time in your chamber, not having the mood to go out and face the Court, much less him.

And when you had to face the daylight, your steps became stealthy and sparse, trying to keep your distance as much as possible and avoiding any possible encounter with him or anyone else from the royal family.

Aemond of course realized the distance you took and respected it. Not because he knew exactly what happened, but because he thought you had other important matters that did not allow you to share your time with him.

It wasn't until an audience at the Court where the Queen and the Hand of the King attend to the needs of the people, that Aemond finally caught a glimpse of you. But you didn't return his gaze even for a moment. And it is only then that he tries to understand the reason for your distancing, but your eyes avoid any eye contact with him.

You spend several days living in the same way, until one silent morning, Aemond finds you in the library all alone. He knows this is not your favorite time to read, nor is it his, so to say you are avoiding him is clear at that moment.

He opens one of the doors gently and closes it audibly enough to get your attention. He sees perfectly how your whole body tenses and nerves are reflected in your gaze, as well as discontent.

That especially catches his attention and with more purpose he wanders deeper into the library, watching you completely intently and in search of an explanation, wanting to know what he has done to make his presence before you now uncomfortable and annoying to you.

"My prince," you say politely enough, bowing your head to him, but already wanting to leave.

You certainly did not expect him to appear and now you only try to hide from him as much as you can so that he avoids looking at the disappointment on your face.

"My Lady," he says, still with bewilderment in his gaze, taking a couple of steps towards you, "It is good to finally see you after so many weeks without your presence."

You force a small smile, lowering your gaze.

"It's good to see you too, my prince."

His closeness begins to unsettle you, feeling each step he takes towards you as an echo of emotions you'd rather keep hidden. And this is exactly why you desperately seek a way out, a convincing excuse to get away from him.

"If you'll excuse me, my prince, I must retire," you decide to say without further ado, hoping that it will work, "I wish you a good day."

But you only manage to move two steps forward when he quickly blocks your path.

"Wait."

Instantly you watch him intently and in awe, feeling your heart begin to beat too fast, as he looks at you confused and hopeful.

"You've been... absent lately," he says, his words laden with a mixture of confusion and longing.

You swallow hard, averting your gaze from his for a moment. You don't even want to look him in the eye but that would be rude and not appropriate behavior in front of a prince. So you have no choice.

"Yes," you say in a mumble, trying to find an excuse quickly, "I-I've had to take care of some important matters with my family. Also, my responsibilities at Court have kept me occupied with the ladies and other engagements, which has left me less free time, my prince."

And despite your explanation, really not at all convincing, Aemond can't help but feel annoyed.

"And will you stop saying that?" he inquires in a low tone and you watch him in confusion.

"What do you mean, my prince?"

"Exactly that, my title," he points out deliberately, "There's no one else here, it's just you and me. I don't understand what all the formality is about."

You press your lips together, again averting your gaze from him, as you as well as he, feel that tension between the two of you, a tension completely unfamiliar and one you have never felt before in each other's presence.

You had never felt uncomfortable in his presence and you had never wanted to get away from him before.

"I apologize. It was not my intention to offend you," you observe him with a serious expression, "If you'll excuse me, I have to leave now to attend to an engagement."

Again you try to walk past him and head for the library doors, but Aemond prevents it once again, blocking your path and pushing you back with his determined and clearly annoyed gaze.

"You are avoiding me," he sentences, firm with his words, showing his inconformity, surprising you, "Nothing is the same between both of us anymore and your explanations don't justify it," he says, with annoyance in his voice and a determination, "Did something happen that I don't know about?"

He asks, watching you with a restrained fury, mostly to see how you try to escape from him, while you press your lips together, trying not to let your look show your pain, disappointment and resignation.

But his gaze clings to yours with an intensity charged with longing, wanting to know, while the silence is uncomfortable and you feel again that tension between the two of you. Until finally you decide to break the silence to not quite answer her question, still evading it.

"This is inappropriate. We shouldn't be alone."

You say without looking him in the eye and that only increases the anger inside him more, watching you without understanding.

"Why the shyness all of a sudden?"

You bite your lips, feeling the discontent all over your insides as you say your next words.

"You are betrothed. People might think badly of you and me if they see us here alone."

"Oh, please Y/N," he tells you incredulously, annoyed, "You're acting ridiculous."

"Aemond-

"Why this sudden concern for appearances?" he questions, his tone infused with irritation and annoyance, "Everyone knows we're close, we always have been, and now it's inappropriate?" he inquire, not understanding.

You let out a short breath, closing your eyes for a moment, really not wanting this to be any harder than it probably will be.

"You don't understand," you murmur sadly, biting your lips, "You are betrothed now," you observe him with the resistance to cry in your gaze, "Now there are limits we cannot cross. And it would be best if this were no longer to go on," you say with a lump in your throat, "Your gifts and our meetings must stop, for the good of your future marriage and out of respect for your f-future... wife."

The weight of your words are felt in your tone, with sadness invading you as you utter them, as well as the ending of this... friendship.

Again the heavy silence hangs between the two of you, laden with a sadness and helplessness that neither of you can control. And although Aemond doesn't fully understand your reasons for distancing yourself from him, he knows there is something else that he still can't quite figure it out.

"Y/N, if you're upset because I didn't tell you about the plans my mother and grandsire had for me-

"No, no, I assure you it's not that," you hasten to say, hiding your sadness and disappointment, "It would eventually happen, wouldn't it?" you shrug, trying to smile genuinely towards him, but you can't, "You must do your duty and I will too, sooner or later," you say, lowering your gaze.

Aemond is speechless for a moment, watching you and nothing else, still feeling the guilt inside, while you struggle to contain your true emotions and shout to him in that moment that you love him, let him know once and for all, though it won't change anything.

"Y/N..." he murmurs, his barely audible voice full of bewilderment and a hint of pain, "Still I didn't want to-

"No, no... it's not your fault," you say again quickly, struggling to keep your composure, "Truly, it's all right. I should leave now."

He lets out a sigh, lowering his gaze for a second to look at you in concert with longing and concern.

"Can we please talk about this? I don't want things to end up like this between us."

"Don't worry," you try to smile genuinely at him, but rather a grimace appears on your lips, "I'm sure we can meet in the hallways and talk at the feast."

You tell him in a confident and assured tone, but even you know that won't be true.

"Oh and... hum... congratulations on your upcoming nuptials," you say with a lump in your throat and a forced smile on your lips.

To you, the falsity of your congratulations echoes in the air, a subtle echo of disappointment and resignation flooding your heart. Aemond tries to say something with the right words, but you don't give him the time as you finally move forward and no one stops you, each step echoing with the heaviness of what could have been and was not.

But just when you think you've managed to get far enough away, a hand gently lands on your arm, once again stopping you.

"Wait, please."

Aemond's voice sounds full of urgency and longing, making your breath catch for a second. And when you turn to look at him with the clear resignation and sadness in your gaze, his look reveals a mixture of torment and determination, frustration as well.

"I did not wish for this, Y/N," he confesses truthfully, his voice soft and emotionally charged. "It is not my desire to marry Lord Borros' daughter. That is not what I wish for myself."

Your eyes fill with tears as you hear his words, surprise in your gaze. And he stares directly into your eyes with despair, as if his thoughts are trying to be conveyed through his gaze.

And even though you have nothing to say regarding that, he continues with a confession that takes your breath away.

"Y/N..." he whispers, his expression heavy with longing. "If I had a choice, if the decision were mine, I would not hesitate in....

His words hang in the air, causing confusion in you for a moment, but as you watch him closely, his gaze speaks for him.

He watches you with attention, longing and hope, adoringly seeing the way your beautiful purple dress highlights your figure and beauty, with those precious and discreet jewels adorning your neck and fingers... his woman.

He shows you his affection and expresses it simply by observing you that he doesn't need to say anything else aloud. The meaning of her words is dispersed between the two of you, revealing a shared desire and a deep connection.

As you, upon understanding, surprise and hope collide within you, leaving you breathless at the implicit, yet clear revelation. Emotions intertwine in a whirlwind of feelings as the weight of his words sink deep within you. Your heart only beats faster, unable to believe what you are hearing, as time seems to have stopped, unable to speak.

And only then there, you can feel joy in knowing that your feelings are reciprocated, but the pain of knowing that it is now too late, simply ruins everything and fills you with pain.

"Why are you saying it until now?" you whisper with your voice broken and your gaze lowered.

"Y/N, please-

You don't let him say anything else, as with a lump in your throat and tears streaming down your cheeks, a sight Aemond doesn't like to see, you turn away from him more quickly and walk out of the library, leaving him alone with the weight of these confessions and unspoken words.

Also with a heart full of regret.

The news of your courtship came weeks after the last time you spoke to Aemond in the library.

You definitely did not expect to hear that at all, as you felt like you had been unexpectedly punched hard in your stomach and a sharp pain settled in your chest as your father spoke complacently about how he received two advantageous offers for the asking of your hand, Lord Ronan Redwyne and Lord Alan Beesbury.

Despite your father's efforts to express the importance and political benefits of such possible unions, to you it was as if the air itself had become heavier and stifling.

Only on this occasion the Gods had been good to you, as both men are the same age as you, so the fear of having to marry a man who multiplies your age and was surely going to be bad to you evaporates.

But still, you feel trapped and obligated.

Of course, your parents are quick to push you to start having conversations with both men to see which of the two is the most suitable for you.

Lord Alan, with his refined presence and gentle smile, known to be a skilled knight, is kind and very gentlemanly. You always see his attempt to make you feel comfortable with his presence, also in the topics of conversation that arise between the two, telling you about his home, his family, some stories and sharing some wishes with you.

You appreciate that, as you can tell he's doing his best, but even so, your mind reels at the thought of him being the possible candidate to take your hand, which adds another layer of complexity to your situation.

The same goes for Lord Ronan.

Despite his kindness, chivalry and the attractiveness of his face, you find no peace in the situation. You don't even care that they are both advantageous for a future marriage, all you want is freedom, to wait a little longer until you heal.

But at least you are being given the choice, a privilege not many women get from their parents when it comes time to marry and simply sell them as a trophy to the first advantageous man.

"It's a beautiful day, don't you think, my Lady?" says Ronan, breaking the silence between the two as you stroll through the Red Keep gardens.

"Yes, it is," you reply with a forced smile, lowering your gaze, keeping your pace slow.

He watches you intently.

"I just want you to know that I am eager to get to know you better, my Lady," he tells you gently and formally, "And any questions you have about me, you can tell me. Also any thoughts you have, I will be pleased to hear them."

You nod politely, feeling a little uncomfortable about the situation, unable to help yourself. And though you truly appreciate Ronan's kindness, your heart still yearns for something that now eludes you.

As you continue the walk, you strive to find something in Ronan, anything, just as you do whenever you are in Lord Alan's company, but you always fail. And even though neither of them is a bad man, you know that they too are caught up in choosing a future wife that is not entirely of their choosing.

"I thank you for your kindness, my Lord."

You say in a sincere voice, looking him in the eyes for the first time since you had started the walk,

"And also for your interest. Not many men are interested in the thoughts of women these days."

Ronan places a kind and understanding little smile on his lips, nodding in your direction.

"There is nothing to be thankful for, my Lady. And I know it's only a short time since we've begun to know each other, but I enjoy your company."

You nod again, keeping your gaze straight ahead, unable to help but feel how you still feel overwhelmed by the weight of courtship and the fact that you will soon marry him or Lord Alan.

And at the same time, reality dawns on you with undeniable clarity: Ronan and Alan are good men, but neither is him.

While both may be honorable companions, your heart still yearns for someone you can't have, feeling utterly sad and resigned, because it's not fair, not to the two of them either.

But how can you make those feelings go away fast?

And just when things couldn't be more unexpected for you, as you turn down one of the bush paths along with Ronan, you both find yourselves face to face with Aemond accompanied by Lady Floris at his side, who were walking in the opposite direction.

And the air is enveloped with immediate tension.

You knew that eventually the news of your courtship with two possible candidates to give your hand in marriage would reach Aemond's ears, but when your eyes involuntarily meet his, you see only dissatisfaction and restrained fury.

This triggers a whirlwind of emotions within you, trying to disguise your surprise and discomfort, also nerves, as well as you try to focus on your companion, trying to move on and appear unaffected by this.

"Lady Y/N," Lady Floris greets politely with a smile, breaking the silence, "Lord Ronan," she address him, "How lovely to see you both this morning."

"Lady Floris," you reply, trying to remain calm, then look almost fearfully at Aemond, "Prince Aemond," you tilt your head slightly, biting the inside of your cheek.

"My Lady," he answers you in a soft tone.

Ronan at your side also greets Lady Floris in a respectful manner, then turns to Aemond.

"My prince."

"Lord Ronan," says Aemond, in a dismissive tone, observing you attentively and at the same time in seriousness.

Aemond's tone does not go unnoticed by you, with an intensity on his face that does not go unnoticed either, as you struggle to remain calm in the face of the uncomfortable situation.

It is clear that Ronan's presence at your side does not please him at all.

As Lady Floris at his side, she attempts to carry on a polite conversation, oblivious to the tension that has taken over the moment.

"I would like to offer my best wishes to you both on your courtship," Lady Floris begins to say kindly, "Fortunately the prince and I are in the same place as you and understand what it can be to have expectations high in families if you decide to join your houses."

You feel more the knot in your stomach and the discomfort all over your body, not daring to say anything regarding that, while Aemond remains just as silent as you.

And fortunately Ronan is the one who appreciates Floris' gesture, while Aemond keeps his eye on you with an expressionless but penetrating gaze, also watching Ronan from time to time.

"Thank you, my Lady," Ronan replies courteously, "Your words are most kind and we wish you both well in your future marriage."

"Of course. We hope to see you both at our upcoming wedding," Floris adds with a kind and visibly excited smile, while you again feel your heart give a painful jump.

And since you say nothing, nor does Aemond, Ronan hastens to speak.

"Of course, my Lady. We will see you there."

With pain in your eyes, your gaze involuntarily drifts to Aemond for a brief moment, where he is already watching you. And in that fleeting moment, the looks in both of your eyes convey more than words can express.

With a polite bow, the four of you take your leave and each pair continues on their own way.

You try to focus on your steps along with Ronan's, but the echo of tension and unspoken feelings leave an unpleasant sensation throughout your body. And that's when you hope that soon, both you and he will find peace in your respective futures.

But it didn't look like that was going to happen anytime soon. Neither did acceptance.

Aemond continued the rest of his walk with Floris in the gardens with his mind still focused on the encounter with you and that boy clearly unworthy of you. He didn't even pay attention to what Floris was talking about, he had not the slightest interest and obliged, he had to complete his walk with her contributing very little to the conversation.

Even he himself could not avoid the feeling of suffocation and frustration that invaded him. Seeing Y/N, his Y/N, next to that poor boy, one of his possible candidates to take her hand in marriage, provoked a mixture of indescribable emotions inside him and he made a great effort to keep his composure.

He feels furious and emotionally on the verge of exploding, like a mad man, with impotence filling him with rage.

Why should she marry a man who was not him? Why should he be forced to witness her courtship with another man? Why couldn't he have realized that she also loves him the same way he loves her and reacted sooner?

He felt that he was really going to go crazy, so as soon as he bids farewell to Floris and leaves her in the company of the other ladies of the Court, he heads for the training yard.

Big mistake.

As soon as his presence arrives at this place of the Red Keep, the figure of Lord Ronan pulls him out of his thoughts and draws his full attention.

At least he has the decency to hold a sword.

He thinks to himself, watching as he finds himself engrossed in his own training, accompanied by other knights, practicing his sword moves. He also thinks about focusing on his own training, but finds it a better idea to meet the candidate of his dear friend Y/N, wanting to know what truly awaits her.

After all, Lord Ronan is not the only candidate, Lord Alan also frequents the training yard and will eventually see him as well. So with a determined step, he approaches him.

"Lord Ronan," he says in a cool but controlled tone as he approaches, heading towards the weapons table.

"Prince Aemond," Ronan replies, stopping his training and turning to him, "It is good to see you here as well, my prince."

His gaze assesses Ronan closely, noting his every gesture and movement. And despite the anger still flowing through his veins, he remains calm, not revealing too much of his thoughts.

"I guess you don't train enough at home. House Redwyne is best known for making sweet wine from the grapes that grow on your island," he comments neutrally, watching Ronan's position with meticulous attention.

"Ah... no, my prince," Ronan says politely, "I have had training lessons with the sword, among other weapons, since I was a young boy. So have other members of my family and I assure you we are well trained," he replies, adjusting the position of his sword, "After all, a knight must remain prepared at all times."

"Hm," he says seriously, "And that is what you have accomplished with so many years of training?"

Ronan remains calm in the face of the prince's critical gaze, though Aemond's insinuation resonates with a defiant tone.

"P-pardon me?"

"With those moves is that how you're going to ensure protection for your future wife?" he inquires with a dismissive tone, challenging Ronan with his words.

Tension begins to be felt in the air, the verbal confrontation slipping between the two men. And though Ronan maintains his composure, not wanting his words to affect him, the disdain in the prince's words does not go unnoticed.

"Appearances can be deceiving, my prince," Ronan said calmly, controlling each word to convey determination, "And my duty as protector of my future wife is not limited to combat alone. I suppose there are more important aspects."

Aemond tilts his head, watching him in confusion.

"And what aspects are those, my Lord?" he asks, clearly disinterested.

"Loyalty, anticipation and sacrifice," he replied determinedly. "Protection goes beyond sword skills; it involves being willing to give your all for the person you are sworn to protect."

Ronan's words echoed in the air, filling the space between them with a seriousness that could not be ignored. And Aemond, his brow furrowed, lets out a sigh and watches him more seriously than before.

"Do you hear yourself, my lord? Speaking like the ladies of the Court who read and listen to love ballads," he snaps, watching him in disapproval, "Loyalty, anticipation and sacrifice are not going to protect your future wife from a life-threatening attack," he says and then turns away, taking his sword and a shield from the table.

Ronan swallows hard.

"You need not worry, my prince. Still I assure you that I am well prepared for combat."

"Oh yeah?" he looks at him expectantly, turning to him with his weapons in hands, "Then prove it."

Ronan looks a little confused.

"My prince-

"Come on," he interrupts him, egging him on with defiance, discontent and agitation in his tone and look, "If you're as skillful as you proclaim, then prove it."

The atmosphere grows more tense, as Aemond waits for Ronan to accept his challenge and prove his worth beyond words. Both men hold each other's gazes firmly, with the tension increasing by the second, but neither takes a step back.

The confrontation becomes tangible. Glares charged with a subtle but unmistakable rivalry. And without further words, the air filled with the anticipation of the physical training ahead, as the two head to the center of the training yard, each preparing in their own way.

Aemond tightens his grip on his sword and without hesitation, lunges towards Ronan with fierce determination, causing the poor knight to have little anticipation to protect himself from his sword, but managing to dodge it and answer him in kind.

At first it appears to be casual training, yet Aemond wants to get a reaction out of him.

And between every clash of swords and every move full of speed and precision, at every failure of Ronan, Aemond taunts and shouts questions and insults at him in a defiant voice while demanding superior performance.

And at every failure and every taunt, Ronan's determination grows, also inevitably to the prince's provocations.

"Is that all you can do!?"

Aemond exclaims arrogantly to him, wiping the sweat from his brow, trying to unsettle him.

Ronan growls and focuses on his movements, responding with brutality and force, trying to answer every blow he threw at him, which to Aemond, couldn't be more pathetic and weak movements.

"This is what you plan to defend yourself with? This is what you have learned?" he inquires, mockingly, "What a shame."

Ronan lowers his sword a little, watching him in bewilderment and panting in exhaustion.

"My prince-

He tries to say but Aemond won't let him.

"No," he tells him seriously, "Be a fucking man and fight me back."

Aemond raises his sword again and slams it against his, causing him to lose his balance, while Ronan as best he can defends himself from their attacks, while the combat begins to attract the attention of the other knights and some people of the Court.

And only when Aemond sees that they have just started and he can no longer stand and does not even have more strength in his arms, the confrontation went from a simple duel to a battle without mercy.

And he in a fit of anger and frustration, leads to hit him with his foot in the chest with excessive force, making him gasp in pain and throwing him to the ground, and then walk quickly towards him, with purpose, raising his sword, so Ronan quickly tries to get up, raising his sword, blocking his attack.

Then Aemond's sword dangerously grazes Ronan's shoulder, knocking him back to the ground with a blow to his side.

"My prince-

"You yield!?" he exclaims to him in his madness, bringing the point of his sword to his throat.

"Yes! I yield!"

"Just like that!? So easy!?"

"Prince Aemond!"

He hears someone shout in the distance but he focuses entirely on Ronan below him.

"I yield!"

"He's bleeding!"

"My prince!" comes Criston Cole immediately.

And only at that moment does Aemond stop, breathing shakily, his gaze with barely contained fury. And only at that moment he also notices that Ronan has a wound on his shoulder with which he had brushed his sword earlier, not realizing at the time that he had wounded him.

Ronan presses his free hand to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, watching him in horror and clearly calling for help.

Aemond squeezes his sword again so hard that it marks his white knuckles, watching everyone around him for a moment, then with a hard stare, turning to him again, angling his body so that only he can hear him.

"You are not worthy of her," he whispers in a low voice, his words laden with disdain and resentment.

And without caring about the stares or even her opponent's injury, he leaves the shield on the ground and with his sword in hand heads towards the interior of the Red Keep's castle.

Aemond knew that eventually what happened at the training yard would reach your ears. He also expected a confrontation about it, but he didn't imagine he would face your fury late at night.

His guards are required to stand guard in different hallways, so taking advantage of the fact that there are none in the hallway by his doors, you quickly make your way there to enter his chamber as fast as your body will allow.

He looks up from his book in his lap, sitting near the fireplace, watching you attentively at once, but before he can say anything, you turn to him with your lips pressed together and annoyance in your eyes.

"Have you lost your mind?" you inquire in a serious and demanding tone, looking for explanations.

And just like you, Aemond isn't having your attitude either. He's annoyed to see how you haven't taken any time at all to come to the defense of that stupid, poor, defenseless boy.

Putting his book aside, he stands up, imposing his presence on you. Despite having to raise your face to face him directly, you don't let his posture intimidate you.

"I see that that... Ronan matters too much to you, my Lady," he says in a dismissive tone, "It took you no time at all to fall for his sure sweet words and promises of love. After all, you and he are very much alike."

You inhale deeply before responding, seeking calm despite his attitude and the tone of his words.

"Ronan and I are getting to know each other, nothing more. Just as you are getting to know Floris Baratheon. But I'm not doing anything against you, yours is for sure, she's going to be your wife. But you can't go hurting and almost killing the men who can be my future husband."

He looks away from yours for a moment, irritated.

"I don't know what you expected, honestly," he tells you seriously and indifferently, "That's what happens in combat when we fight with weapons, Y/N, men get hurt. And if Ronan is weak and wasn't taught well, that's not my problem."

You stand your ground, incredulous to hear his words.

"That doesn't justify what you did. Everyone witnessed how the combat began and it was you who unfairly exploded against him, hurting him," you reproach him with determination. "His wound was deep. He needed eight stitches!"

Aemond, sick of this, averts his gaze from yours and turns his back on you, heading towards his table to pour himself a glass of wine under your confused and incredulous gaze.

"I don't understand why you're so worried, he'll be fine. After all, you still have another possible candidate for your hand, I hear," he says in a tone devoid of emotion, laden with bitterness, "Though I doubt he's much stronger than Ronan."

His voice sounds harsh, his words laden with a bitter resentment that he can barely hide, jealous.

"So this is how things will be?"

You ask him earnestly and sadly, fighting back tears that threaten to escape at any moment.

"You'll go around hurting my suitors until there are none left and I have no chance of marrying anyone else but not you either?"

Tension hangs in the air as you wait for his response, feeling the weight of your words and the clash of emotions between the two of you.

And he remains silent, staring out the window with a hard stare, as if not looking for an answer through the glass, turning his back to you and not daring to look at you at that moment.

Finally the first tear rolls down your cheek and Aemond listens as you gently sniffle your nose, then turns to you, his face showing a mixture of emotions, from hardness to the flash of regret and longing.

And he lets out a defeated sigh.

"That's not what this is about, Y/N," he murmurs in a softer tone, his expression revealing his inner struggle, "They're not worthy of you. Your father is choosing wrong."

And that's when you explode with anger and frustration, unable to contain yourself any longer.

"I just don't understand why you care so much, Aemond!" you exclaim without understanding, "You shouldn't see them as a threat because they are not. You have nothing to do here!"

You face him, as your tears fall silently, with a defiant look and your posture firm, though full of sadness, anguish and confusion, inside and outside. And he too responds to you in kind.

"Of course I do!" he turns to you angrily, exclaiming in his fury, "This does concern me because those fucking men and your father are going to take you away from me! And they have no right!"

And again your emotions boil over, fury and pain getting the best of you.

"Do you even listen to yourself? How irrational you are being?" you inquire, not understanding, "You didn't even do anything in the beginning, you are the prince, the one who had the power to do something about it and you never even once asked for my hand!" you shout at him, your voice full of reproach, sadness and disappointment.

Furious, Aemond turns around and in a burst of anger, throws his hand towards the table, causing the wine jar and the cups to fall to the floor with a deafening clatter. The sudden sound makes you jump and recoil, startled by the noise and force of the act.

He turns his back and heads for the back of his chair, leaning hard against it as he tries to contain his fury. With her breathing rapid and agitated he struggles to regain his composure, his body tensing and closing his eye tightly.

The air becomes tense and the silence uncomfortable, as Aemond fights against himself and you just allow yourself to cry silently.

When he speaks again, with a tinge of bitterness in his gaze, still not turning to look at you and his voice soft but laden with resignation, still holding back his fury.

"I wanted to," he confesses to you, his vulnerability visible, "But my mother and grandsire would never have approved, you know that."

His statement leaves you speechless, with a mixture of sadness and disappointment that he didn't even try, not once and yet...he has the nerve to do this to you.

You remain silent and the disappointment and bitterness reflect even more on your face as the tears run their course, to finally gather your courage and speak.

"Then... let me go," you whisper, it being more of a painful plea than a command.

Silence expands in the room, marking every second with the heaviness of unresolved emotions. And you, overwhelmed with disappointment and pain, understand that you have nothing more to do here and turn to leave.

You don't even care if one of the guards sees you coming out of his chamber, you don't even care if rumors arise seeing you here late at night and everything gets too complicated, you just need to get out of here soon.

And with tears still running down your cheeks and being completely heartbroken, you grab the doorknob. But just as you are about to turn it, his firm and determined hand lands on your waist and turns you towards him, stopping you.

The action takes you by surprise and you look at him without understanding, he doesn't give you time to say anything either as he places one hand on your cheek and the other keeps it firmly on your waist, bringing his body close to yours.

And still without reacting, he moves closer, his warm breath brushing against your face.

"I can't," he murmurs, his voice cracking with anguish, laden with longing and regret, "I can't," he repeats in a whisper, gently caressing your cheek, "I'm sorry."

And just then, without a thought for anyone else and without a care in the world, his lips trap yours in a passionate, desperate kiss.

Paralyzed, surprise takes you completely and you can only feel how every movement of his lips is a mixture of apology and desire, asking you to kiss him back.

His arms wrap firmly around you, clinging to you as if he's going to lose you at any moment. And unable to resist a second longer, with his soft lips and warm mouth on top of yours, he makes the world fade away around you in that instant and you kiss him back.

You place your arms around his neck and cling to him completely, moving your lips in sync with his, as he presses your body against his and lets out a gasp at the wonderful feeling of having you this way with him.

And you feel as if you are floating, this being exactly what you had dreamed and prayed for so much, wishing and praying to the Gods that this is not also one of your cruel dreams.

But this is real. It is finally happening.

So you allow yourself to lose yourself completely in it, not thinking about the consequences and not caring about anything else, as Aemond walks you around without stopping kissing you for a single moment, until his feet touch the edge of his bed.

"I love you. I love you so much, my sweet girl."

He whispers into your lips, watching you with all that love and desire in his gaze, noticing your swollen and parted lips, watching him back with the same intensity and completely surprised to hear his words.

And without saying anything back, with the actions speaking for themselves, you kiss him again, feeling that urge to cry, but of happiness.

Aemond falls down sitting on the edge of his bed and you take a seat on his lap, placing your knees on either side of his hips, clinging to his neck and kissing him slow, deep, making you feel everything.

"I love you too," you murmur against his lips, watching him with nothing but affection and desire.

He kisses you again desperately, feeling something warm in his chest at your words, holding your waist with one of his hands and the other beginning to lift the edges of your skirt, making his way to touch your bare thigh.

You gasp into his lips, feeling his warm hand and the cool metal of his rings, only to tilt your head as he begins to leave soft, wet kisses down your neck, trying to find your sensitive spot to make you shiver.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, leaving a kiss on your collarbone, lifting his gaze to you.

"A-aemond," you gasp, feeling the hardness beneath you.

You reach up with one of your hands and remove his eye patch, wanting to see everything about him, instantly reflecting the faint light of his blue sapphire, looking so beautiful and dazzling.

You smile softly at the sight of him, then leave a soft kiss on his cheek, beginning to leave a small trail down his face to kiss him on the lips, as his hand on your thigh makes gentle, firm strokes on your skin.

Slowly, he lifts his hand from your waist to the laces of your dress, watching you attentively afterwards and needing first of all your permission. And you help him untie the knots yourself.

Your front of the dress loosens and revealing your white gown underneath, Aemond lifts one of his hands and gently traces your skin between the valley of your breasts, making you shudder and shiver, then stops at the straps, watching you again.

"May I?"

With the blush on your cheeks and the nerves in your lower abdomen, really wanting to do this, you nod.

"Yes."

His hand slowly slides the strap down your shoulder and arm, then exposes your breasts to him, making you feel more nervous, but you feel completely safe to be doing this with him.

Truly everything that happens next, giving him your mainhead and letting his calloused hands explore all over your naked body, is by choice and you think to yourself that if there is one man you would willingly trust with this, it's him.

And just as the tip of his hot, hard, heavy cock makes its way between your walls, he knows exactly how to comfort you and make you feel comfortable. Instantly blood stains his sheets, but he doesn't care at all.

And when he begins to move inside you, slowly and very carefully, waiting for you to get used to it, he wipes away every tear that escapes your eyes and comforts you with his hands and kisses, making sure that at all times you are well.

"You feel so fucking good, so warm and tight, my love."

And despite his obscene words, his actions are anything but, his movements careful and careful not to hurt you, asking you how you feel.

He kisses you sweetly and caresses your breasts, he makes sure to pleasure you too, as he understands that this is not just about him and the act is not just about fucking, but him making love to you.

He growls into your lips and you gasp as he begins to move with more purpose inside you, feeling the sweat all over your body and forehead, clinging to his shoulders and gently digging your nails into his skin also lightly illuminated by sweat.

"Do you have any idea how long I imagine this?" he whispers against your lips, moving his hips and pounding that sweet spot inside you, making you moan beneath him.

But he quiets your moans with his lips, not wanting anyone out there to hear you, it would be too risky.

"Aemond," you say his name in a moan, biting your lips.

"What's wrong, my sweet girl? Does it hurt?" he says to start moving more gently.

"N-no. It just... feels so good," you manage to say over the sensual movement of his hips that make you see stars behind your eyes.

The act doesn't last long and very soon Aemond makes you reach your highest point, making you experience a sensation you had no idea about all over your body and he also spills all his seed inside you, grunting and moaning from the pleasure as he feels your walls squeezing him deliciously.

And then, both of you sweaty and trying to catch your breath, you embrace and take a moment in his bed.

You feel a tingle between your legs that is more than gratifying and Aemond, for the first time in a long time, feels at peace and completely at ease, especially having you in his arms at this moment.

There was no time for regrets and worries, it was all done. So the two of you dive into that little world where only the two of you exist.

But even though you didn't want to think about it, you think about the future, with uncertainty beginning to invade you, as you inhale Aemond's scent, hiding your face between his neck and chest, embracing him as he encloses you in his arms and gently caresses your bare shoulder with his thumb, listening to his soft breathing above you.

You let out a sigh, close your eyes and wish you could stay like this forever, starting to feel your eyes water and that huge worry in your chest for what you just did.

When Aemond speaks.

"In the morrow I will talk to your father and ask for your hand."

He says in a soft voice and everything in you comes to a complete standstill, listening to him attentively.

"I'm sure he won't be able to resist my proposal. No one will be able to stop us when they know I have claimed your mainhead, not even my mother and grandsire. And then... we will have our Valyrian wedding and there will be no turning back," he murmurs and then places a soft smile on his lips, "You will be mine, as much as you already are now."

You feel him leave a soft kiss in your hair and you smile softly, moving closer towards him, if possible.

"Sounds like an excellent plan, my love," you whisper, grateful.

And finally you can be at peace now.

[nicotine-boi]

So much senseless pain..

YALL I FUCK SO HEAVY WITH THIS DRAWING IT ALSO TOOK ME A LITERAL MONTH TO COMPLETE BECAUSE UNI BUT I ALSO SNEEKED (?) A LOT OF symbolism ig IN HERE AND IM LIKE. SLSJSKKSKSN

Explanation + other versions below (excuse any typo I'm writing this up on my phone at 11pm)

A.) all the different hands are from characters that he (mostly) directly impacted.

Silco [top hand] because, intentional or not, their paths were always slightly intertwined. (jinx stealing hex-plans, jayce proposing peace, even back to vik's apprenticeship eith singed and him creating shimmer for silco). He's placed at the head because he was the catalyst of basically all the events in the show.

Vi [1st left] and Jinx [1st right] because not only did he lead them to were they went in act3, but their paths beforehand were also slightly intertwined throughout the series. THEY'RE ALSO A MIRROR IMAGE OF EACH OTHER BECAUSE THEY ACCIDENTALLY MIRROR EACH OTHER (2nd season Vi mirrors 1st season jinx and vice-versa)

Isha [2nd right] because he UNINTENTIONALLY led to her death by allowing her to bond more with Vander and to see him interact 'normally' with Vi and Jinx which led to her sacrifice. She is placed under Jinx because she was her shadow, mentor, kid, etc. and her sole purpose was to emotionally wound Jinx cus the writers suck lol.

Steb [2nd left] because he was tasked with destroying his cocoon thingy in the final battle. He is placed under Vi because he befriended her at least a little while they terrorized Zaun and also as he was the one charged with awaiting for Zaunites at the bridge when it came to recruiting for the final battle.

Mel [3rd left] is here because of her involvement with everything that is Hextech. From allowing them to break into the lab to the subtle manipulation it took to create the weapons, she was there through it all. She's positioned like that in the shoulder because it feels, to me at least, slightly condescending. I'm p sure she never directly addresses him for anything and that's how the hand placement feels to me, a dismissal.

Sevika [3rd right] on the other hand (ha ha) is there because she has always advocated for Zaun. She wants what's best for them and he represents that. They might've not met, but he an important member of society that, even for a single second, coexisted within Piltover as their equal. Her grip on his shoulder is more forceful, she wants to hold on to that idea for the entirety of Zaun.

Caitlyn [4th right] is between most Zaunites because of how she barged into Zaun throughout the season. She almost willingly stepped into the role Ambessa gave her in order to weed Jinx out. The grip she has on his arm is one typically used when helping someone walk (at least as far as I've used it with my grandma) this is to show how she turned the thing that caused his illness and hurt many others into a torture device, essentially.

JAYCE [4th left] UUUUGH. HES HOLDING HIS HEART BECAUSE IT WAS AFFECTION THAT HELD THEM TOGETHER. HE ALSO BLEW HIS FUCKING CHEST OUT. HE ALSO REMOVED ANY SELF-CONFIDENCE, FAKE AS IT MIGHTVE BEEN, THAT VIKTOR HAD IN THE COUNCIL SCENE WHICH LED TO HIM AGREEING TO BECOME THE THING JUST TO GIVE IT BACK WHEN THEY WERE IN THE ASTRAL PLAIN!! HE CRADDLES HIS HEART AT ALL TIMES EVEN IF ITS UNKNOWINGLY AND VIKTORS HAND ON TOP OF HIS IS BECAUSE, EVEN THOUGH HE WILLINGLY LETS JAYCE HOLD IT, HE'S HAD HURT IT BEFORE AND VIK IS JUST CAREFUL ABT IT NOW.

Ekko [5th left] is holding him back via the leg because he never really met him but he did want to stop him, he wanted him to wait so thats what the position represents and Vandor [5th right] is almost cradling his hip because Viktor was rebuilding the family he had left by bringing his soul back, he's almost holding him like he's precious because to Vander, he was.

B.) He is partly metal tin toy, partly astral projection because of the fact that that's how the characters saw him mostly. they met the monster once during the final battle but they knew him more as he was before.

C.) Gay rune circle because I say so.

D.) Hex patterns in the other bg because. because ^^

And now more versions because pretty

[mpregtales]

Luke & Owen

Highlights from Luke’s pregnancy journey:

From insemination to birth, it’s a complicated journey as a surrogate. Especially when you’re carrying your own brother. Luke never thought he’d find himself in this position — heavily pregnant at only 21 years old with a massive, round, swollen belly and a plump, ripe, jiggly bubble butt that would soon push out his little brother.

Luke sat and reminded about how his body had transformed as the weeks turned into months. His once-trim frame grew to accommodate the life inside him, his belly swelling into a taut, heavy dome that stretched his skin to its limits. His rounded, pregnancy-thickened glutes became fuller and softer, their size and shape shifting to support the weight of his pregnancy. Each movement felt deliberate and weighted, his belly rocking and cheeks bouncing as he walked.

The physical sensations were equally intense — an ever-present pressure in his pelvis as the baby grew, the fullness in his belly tightening with each kick, and the subtle shifts in his body as it prepared to give birth. Luke couldn't ignore the tension in his plump glutes, flexing and pulsing as his body instinctively readied itself to deliver his brother.

But the physical transformation was only part of the journey. Emotionally, Luke grappled with the weight of his role as a surrogate, the bond forming between him and the child he carried, and the complexity of bringing his brother into the world. What he hadn't anticipated, though, was how this journey would lead him to a love he never saw coming. Through the challenges, deeply intimate moments, and uncharted territory, Luke discovered a strength and purpose he never knew he had and a new family he never expected.

Full story at Luke & Owen

[hrrtshape]

lmao girl I deleted peter's ass too. can we have your marauders backstory or script or smth though? because james' cousin?? that's tea and I need it (insert squidward begging pic)

　EMMAS MARAUDERS ✶ DESIRED REALITY.

　　　　　　　　　　　ּ  　*　 ˖  　་　ּ  　

　　　　　　　　　　　　　ACT I. 　　　　　　　　　" meet EMMALINA ! " 　　　　THE SHIMMERING WITCH of gryffindor tower.

with russian-french roots and a family name that whispers through the halls of wizarding infamy, she strides through hogwarts like a fox, literally, given her animagus form, equal parts grace and mischief. cousin to james potter (who swears his frenchness shows in his hair), she brings an aristocratic flair to his otherwise scruffy charm.

the history of magic classroom might as well be her throne room. while others yawn, she's weaving tales of goblin rebellions like an academic bard. there’s no peter pettigrew in this reality (we don’t talk about him), leaving the marauding dynamic sharper, cleaner, and ready for some dazzling drama.

born on the honeyed cusp of dawn in 1960, emmalina juliette [...] did not so much enter the world as she stormed it, small fists curled like questions, arriving amidst the shadowy splendour of Iskanderhall, her family’s ancestral manor. iskanderhall wasn’t just a home; it was a kingdom in its own right. draped in mist and arrogance, nestled in the raw heart of the untamed highlands, the estate sprawled like a great sleeping beast, its turrets clawing at the sky. whispered myths clung to its walls, a place where secrets seemed stitched into the stones. even the wind carried a kind of conspiratorial hush, as though it knew something no one else did.

emmalina’s early years were a tug-of-war between the suffocating grandeur of her bloodline and the wild freedom of the highlands. the [...]s, distant relation to the russian imperial family (a detail her mother embroidered into every conversation like a prized crest on a dinner napkin), had escaped to britain generations ago, bringing with them their storied high-brow arrogance, treasures that gleamed like unsaid truths, and a reputation for being brilliantly dangerous. her parents ruled over iskanderhall with the kind of presence that could silence a room, her father with a steely gaze, her mother with the kind of smile that could curdle milk. they expected nothing less than perfection, the kind that could waltz into a room and leave an impression, and they weren’t shy about saying so.

but emmalina, oh, that sweet summer child, had the wild in her veins. between lectures on the noble responsibilities of pureblood supremacy, she would slip away, barefoot and unbothered, to the hills. here, where the air tasted of heather and mischief, she discovered her animagus form: a sleek, flame-furred fox.

sirius was one of the few bright spots in her otherwise curated childhood. his family, the ever-dour blacks, frequented iskanderhall for summer soirées and political whispers. while their parents sipped blood-red wine and traded thinly veiled threats over crystal decanters, emma and sirius carved their own conspiracies. he was all dark rebellion and smirks; she was sharp-tongued and feral around the edges, a duo born for trouble. their friendship was not so much a bond as a secret language, a rebellion against the velvet cages of their upbringings.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　ACT II.

when her hogwarts letter arrived, her parents expected her to glide into slytherin or, at worst, ravenclaw, carrying the [...] name like a banner. but the sorting hat, bless its insolent fabric, spent an age hemming and hawing before settling on gryffindor. there was something foxlike in her heart, it decided, a ferocity that didn’t belong in green or blue.

at hogwarts, emmalina was a comet, blazing and impossible to ignore. her silvery accent and cool self-possession cloaked her in intrigue, but it was her partnership with her cousin, james potter, that truly set the castle alight. together, they turned hogwarts into their personal theatre of chaos. the gryffindor common room bore the brunt of their experiments, and if a prefect caught them, james would charm his way out while emmalina, ever the fox, slipped away unnoticed. sirius, of course, was their shadow, laughing all the while, and remus added a reluctant balance. peter pettigrew, as far as they were concerned, didn’t exist; in fact, in this version of reality, he’d been conveniently hexed out of existence before term began as we don't need backstabbing c$#ts around here.

but beneath the hijinks, emmalina was a paradox, a girl whose laugh could undo a room but who secretly devoured history of magic with a hunger no one could fathom. while her peers groaned through binns’ droning lectures, emmalina filled page after page with scrawled notes, her fascination with forgotten goblin rebellions and obscure wizarding wars betraying an academic streak no one expected.

her most curious entanglement, however, was with coriolanus snow. a slytherin to his polished bone, he was the heir to one of the wizarding world’s most notorious families. their interactions began as rivalry, sharp-tongued exchanges in the corridors, hexes lobbed across the great hall like poorly aimed arrows. no one knew when the venom turned to venom-laced attraction, when “i hate you” slipped into “i despise you” before landing, ungracefully, in “i love you.” they burned like wildfire, their arguments loud enough to wake the castle, their stolen moments of tenderness hidden like contraband. they were everything their friends loathed: fire and ice, chaos and control, doomed yet incandescent.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　ACT III.

miss [...] thrived at hogwarts, blending her intellectual curiosity with her daring gryffindor spirit. her favourite subjects were astronomy, history of magic, and muggle studies, where she excelled due to her ability to draw connections between magical and non-magical worlds. she often found herself at the astronomy tower, charting the stars in peaceful solitude, or passionately debating the nuances of magical history with anyone who would listen.

professor mcgonagall took a particular liking to emmalina, impressed by her sharp mind and unwavering determination. she became a frequent visitor to mcgonagall’s office, seeking advice or discussing transfiguration techniques. mcgonagall’s approval only fuelled emma's ambition, and she strove to make her head of house proud in every endeavor.

her circle of friends extended beyond the marauders to include lily evans, dorcas meadowes, and her close companion lily rose, a fiercely loyal gryffindor who shared emma's love for late-night stargazing and whispered secrets. together, they navigated the highs and lows of hogwarts life, from study sessions in the library to daring escapades that left even the marauders impressed.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　ּ  　*　 ˖  　་

　　　　　　　　　　　　　ACT IV. 　　　　　THE CHRONICLES OF HOGWARTS 　　　　( AND THE SCANDALS THAT FOLLOWED )

emma—a calamity, empress of bedlam, and self-appointed sovereign of sand dunes since that one time in her fifth year when dyeing her locks copper must have singed her last shred of restraint—was simply not entertaining the james-and-sirius soap opera hour. let them bicker over who could charm their quills faster or who had the sharper jawline in moonlight. meanwhile, she was over here, casually assembling a tabloid empire that could topple the ministry itself.

take a seat, spectators. let us dissect how emma, with all the grace of a caffeinated banshee, planned to rule hogwarts, temporarily but with a permanence that only chaos can cement. picture it: eric cartman reimagined as a gryffindor princess, machiavelli in silk stockings, all wrapped in a sylvia plath first edition. a walking oxymoron of aristocratic tantrums and poetic nihilism, she made roman roy look like a first-year hufflepuff lost in the corridors.

⋆ the hourglass annihilation : at precisely 11:59 pm, the enchanted hourglasses would combust into glitter and confusion, rendering gryffindor and slytherin’s house points irrelevant. ravenclaw, oddly enough, would gain 150 points overnight. weird. suspicious. downright uncanny, truly.

⋆ the great feast famine : she waltzed into the kitchens under the guise of a hard-hitting exposé on house-elf oppression but instead orchestrated a pumpkin juice shortage to fuel her underground black-market butterbeer racket. supply and demand, lovies. don't hate the players, hate the game.

⋆ polyjuice party-crashing : with her cousin james’ invisibility cloak in tow, she infiltrated the slytherin dormitory meeting. to this day, lucius malfoy hasn’t lived down the atrocious rumours of his tragic toe fungus.

⋆ the whomping willow curse : emma, ever the quick-buck entrepreneur (blame her mother), spread whispers that the whomping willow was cursed to ensnare romantically unsatisfied couples during their hogsmeade dates. pda levels skyrocketed as couples made embarrassing public displays of “true love.”

⋆ the quidditch match sabotage : a quick word with peeves, a little ghostly streaking at the hufflepuff vs. ravenclaw game, and voilà—exclusive interview rights to his exposé: “ poltergeist in polyester: peeves speaks. ”

⋆ the frog choir conspiracy : convincing half the school that the choir’s frogs were polyjuiced students was a stroke of genius. “could this be thy, jeremy?” read the blurry photo of a suspiciously human-like frog mid-jump.

⋆ the room of requirement rave : emma turned hogwarts’ most magical secret into the underground party hotspot, charging entry fees that somehow all went into firewhiskey and peeves’ DJ salary. bagpipes-only playlists, take it or leave it.

⋆ the prefect bathroom soap opera : one enchanted bubble bath later, and every gryffindor prefect’s secrets were whispered into the steam: “i saw you pick you nose, jude, i will tell everyone!”

emma wasn’t just causing anarchy; she was building an empire, brick by glittery, scandalous brick. from the sorting hat coup (sorting first-years into “badger bros” and “parseltongue posse”) to the owlery hostage crisis (an uprising demanding chocolate frogs as postage payment), she was an unstoppable, and truly, an annoying force.

when the great hall time-turner incident derailed every quidditch match for weeks, and the slytherin economic collapse left lucius malfoy red-faced and 100 galleons poorer, emma was somewhere in the room of requirement, sipping butterbeer and plotting her next move.

she wasn’t merely the gryffindor head firl; she was now the head of state. if hogwarts didn’t rename its history books after her, it was committing educational malpractice. build her a throne. preferably made of all the broken house points hourglasses she destroyed. her tabloid is just the first step in my empire. next stop: ministry of magic. by force. naturally.

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　　　　　　　　　　　　　ACT V. 　　　　　　　　　THE ACADEMIC PORTRAIT.

ASTRONOMY : 7 / 7 — stars don’t lie, and neither does emmalina’s perfect score. her knack for celestial navigation is unmatched, and she has a little habit of slipping poetic metaphors about constellations into her essays. she’s also mastered the art of charming professor sinistra by always showing up to stargazing sessions with perfectly rolled parchment and a bit of dramatic flair (think: velvet cloaks and faux-cryptic musings about the moon).

PROFESSOR SINASTRA'S NOTES : “ miss ... has an uncanny ability to map the heavens with precision, though her insistence on turning every constellation into a metaphor for doomed romances is... unique. ”

HISTORY OF MAGIC : 7 / 7 — naturally. a direct result of her obsessive reading, family archives, and a romanticised view of the past. she’s that annoying student who voluntarily writes extra essays, constantly debates binns on niche points of goblin history. she’s genuinely convinced she’ll be in the textbooks someday.

PROFESSOR BINN'S NOTES : “ she is one of the few students to actively engage with my lectures. [...] while her tendency to editorialise is frustrating, her work is meticulous and her arguments, while dramatic, are logically sound. ”

MUGGLE STUDIES : 6 / 7 — she insists she’s "too cultured" for this class but secretly loves it because it’s her ticket to overdramatic critiques of her classmates’ lack of muggle knowledge. professor tofty was so charmed by her footnotes (and latent existential commentary) that they gave her a near-perfect grade.

PROFESSOR TOTFY'S NOTES : “ her grasp of muggle culture is impressive, though she approaches the subject with a certain aloofness, as if observing a particularly exotic bird. while her essay on the psychological implications of traffic lights was unnecessarily existential, it was also utterly fascinating. ”

POTIONS : 5 / 7

— slughorn knows she lied about her grandma dying, but her tears were convincing enough that he caved. brewing potions, for emma, is less about precision and more about vibes; sometimes it works, sometimes it explodes, and she’s fine with either outcome.

PROFESSOR SLUGHORN'S NOTES : “ ah, a curious case. her potions are unpredictable at best, explosive at worst, but she makes up for it with undeniable charm. ”

TRANSFIGURATION : 6 / 7

— her fox animagus tendencies are both a gift and a curse. on the one hand, mcgonagall appreciates her natural talent for animal-related transfigurations; on the other, she’s constantly penalised for her “creative liberties” (like transfiguring someone’s quill into a lizard mid-class “for a laugh”).

PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL'S NOTES : “ miss ... has natural talent but lacks discipline. i've repeatedly warned her that transfiguring classmates’ belongings into woodland creatures is not ‘creative problem-solving.’ if she ever learns to focus her efforts, she could excel in this subject. ”

CHARMS : 7 / 7 — duelling club MVP and absolute show-off. she can cast a perfect aguamenti with a casual flick, and her summoning charms are so on point that she once “accidentally” summoned sirius’s shoe from across the castle. flitwick loves her enthusiasm but occasionally has to remind her that magic is not, in fact, not lighthearted.

PROFESSOR FLITWICK'S NOTES : " a brilliant student with a knack for charmwork that borders on showmanship. her only fault is her love of spectacle—her recent essay on the alohomora charm inexplicably included glitter. "

DIVINATION : 6 / 7 — as a natural oracle (and dramatic flair enthusiast), she’s great at the theatrical side of this class. however, she has a bad habit of predicting catastrophes purely to stir up drama. once foretold a student would “trip into his true love,” and when it happened during dinner, she took full credit.

PROFESSOR TRELAWNEY'S NOTES : “ miss ... is undoubtedly gifted, though her talent is often overshadowed by her dramatic tendencies. nonetheless, her scrying is superb, and her visions, while eccentric, are often eerily accurate. ”

　　　　　　　　　　　　　ACT VI. 　　　　　　　　　　　THE HOBBIES.

archaic letter writing : she writes letters to friends on parchment using quills dipped in absurdly expensive enchanted ink, letters so beautifully crafted they could be sold as art. sometimes, she forgets to send them.

sketching history : emma loves to draw little caricatures of historical witches and wizards in the margins of her textbooks. slughorn caught her once during potions, only to discover a rather flattering sketch of himself as a duelling champion.

enchanted origami : she folds parchment into tiny enchanted animals that hop across desks or flutter around classrooms. one time, a paper phoenix burst into flames in flitwick’s class, causing quite the uproar.

fortune-telling experiments : she doesn’t believe in divination but keeps a deck of tarot cards she uses to intimidate people in the common room (“your future looks bleak, lovie. maybe don’t eat the shepherd’s pie tonight?”).

collecting trivial magical facts : she has a journal stuffed with obscure magical trivia, like the exact number of cauldron explosions recorded in hogwarts history (321, if anyone’s curious).

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　　　　　　　　　　　　　ACT VII. 　　　　　　　FAVOURITE SPOTS IN HOGWARTS.

the trophy room : she claims it’s the most underrated place to people-watch because of the odd assortment of students sneaking in to polish old awards. she even made up a game called trophy stories, where she and her friends invent scandalous backstories for the winners.

the owlery : she finds solace in the chaos of screeching owls and the lingering smell of parchment and rain. when no one’s looking, she recites poetry to the owls like she’s performing to a rapt audience.

the kitchens : she has a special spot in the corner where the house-elves sneak her freshly baked éclairs and orange juice. she insists that the elves give her life advice better than any professor.

the astronomy tower (but not at night) : she goes there early in the morning to watch the sunrise and reflect on her most recent academic rivalries.

the lake’s edge : she dips her toes into the water and chats with the squid like they’re old pals. she swears it “understands her” and sends her approving splashes when she’s feeling low.

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　　　　　　　　　　　　　ACT VIII. 　　　　　　　　　　 LOVE LIFE CHAOS.

emma, gryffindor’s gleaming crown jewel, all head girl polish and unshakeable poise, finds herself tangled, no, downright ensnared, in a maddening duel of wit, charm, and unresolved, spark-shooting tension with none other than coriolanus snow. the slytherin head boy. heir to ambition so icy it burns, a charisma that sidles right up to discomfort, and a smirk that makes her want to fling her inkpot across the great hall. he’s the sort of boy who makes you forget to breathe when he walks into a room, infuriating, insufferable, intoxicating, and frankly, it’s ruining her life.

what begins as pure academic warfare (she’s all quills-out precision; he’s maddeningly cool rebuttals) quickly morphs into something stickier, trickier, downright labyrinthine. they’ve got the whole castle holding their breath, watching this slow, delicious train wreck unfold.

in public, they’re sugar-coated thorns. their words cut, sure, but with a syrupy kind of sweetness that leaves everyone buzzing. he’ll saunter up in charms and adjust her wand grip with the most insufferable smirk, murmuring, “ if you’re aiming to turn the teapot into a shoe, you’re doing splendidly. ” she’ll retaliate in charms, slicing his arguments to ribbons with a smile so bright it could outshine lumos. they’re gossip fodder for everyone, even the fat lady leans closer when they bicker near the gryffindor common room (which he visits suspiciously often).

but oh, behind the scenes it's another beast entirely. snow, mr. too-cool-to-care, has saved her spot in the library far too many times for it to be coincidence. (“ it’s quieter here, ” he’ll mutter, not meeting her eyes.) and emma, who swore on merlin’s saggy socks she wouldn’t give him the time of day, has slipped him notes about transfiguration essays because, godric help her, she felt bad.

and then there are the patrols, those velvet-dark hours when the castle’s asleep, save for the flicker of their wandlight and the soft echo of their footsteps. side by side, no words spoken, the air crackles with something unnamed. It’s like standing in the eye of a storm, knowing full well the winds are coming but too enchanted by the stillness to move.

the astronomy tower knows too much. it’s where their arguments, ambition versus courage, slytherin versus gryffindor, logic versus gut feeling, dissolve into softer things. like how he hates chess because his grandmother was obsessed with it. like how she feels most herself on a broomstick, slicing through clouds. he laughs, really laughs, when she teases him about his scarily neat handwriting “ do you stencil your letters, or does it just come naturally? ”. and sometimes, when she gets too lost in the stars, he watches her. quietly. like she’s the only constellation worth memorising.

and oh, the small things. the way his lips twitch whenever she’s flustered. the way her quill digs deep into the parchment whenever he leans too close. one accidental hand brush during a yule ball, and she’s blushing harder than a howler. and him? he’ll cover for her during potions disasters, not because he cares, mind you, but because listening to slughorn wax poetic about “ unrealised brilliance ” isn’t worth the headache. “ you owe me, ” he’ll say, voice low, eyes strangely softer than sleep.

the castle knows something’s brewing, of course it does. it’s in the charged glances that stretch too long, the smirks that linger, the way their arguments hum with an undercurrent of something else. neither will admit it, of course. not yet. but when you’re debating wand movements and holding eye contact like it’s oxygen, well, the feelings have already gone and written their own love letter.

what comes next? that’s a riddle only time, and perhaps a few midnight patrols, can solve.