#need to know if i'm in an echo chamber or if there is a noticeable demographic pattern

[rwbyrg]

If you identify as Demi, Grey, or any more specific label, just pick the umbrella term that's closest pls and thank you <3

^ a giggle for your troubles

[entitled-fangirl]

Nesting.

Cregan Stark x pregnant!reader

Summary: the reader has nesting habits while carrying their child. It's worrying Cregan to no end.

Masterlist

A/n: based on an incredible ask! He's so girl-dad-coded. Sorry, but I said the thing and I'm not taking it back. Girl dad.

.......................................................

Cregan stepped into their chamber and paused. "My love, what are you doing?"

His seven month pregnant wife looked over her shoulder. "Tidying."

She was currently standing on her small vanity bench, now pulled over to the bookshelf where she had been wiping at the dust on the highest shelf.

His hands came up, ready to catch her at a moment's notice as his body moved closer. "Why, sweet girl? Why not rest?"

She sighed to herself. "The birth is nearing. I need to be prepared."

"Love, dust on a six foot bookshelf is not something the babe will be checking." He placed a firm hand on her lower back. "Why don't you come down from there?"

Though she didn't want to, fighting him was utterly useless. "I don't know if I-"

He had already grabbed her, keeping her in a bridal carry as he moved to the bed. The slight groan from her made him pause. "Your back hurting you again?"

"Never stops," she muttered with a hand over her forehead, "It's like your child enjoys his mother's suffering."

"His? You think a boy?" 

"It has to be," she whined. "It needs to be. I don't think I can take this many more times." When his face fell, a light smirk came over hers. "I can only clean the shelves so many times."

He scoffed in amusement. "You little minx." Usually a teasing comment like that would result in the two under the covers, but during this stage, it only made him more cautious of every move.

He set her down softly on the bed, taking extra care to hold her lower back.

She let out another groan at the movement but the ache subsided for a moment. 

"Sit tight. I'll have someone fetch something to eat." And he stepped out of the room.

It was only a minute. A moment even. But still, when he returned, she was sitting in front of the fire, leaned back on her heels.

"What are you doing?" His voice echoes sharply.

Her hands flinched back as if she'd touched the fire itself, her body turning as much as possible to him. Her eyes were watery. "You're angry," she whispered.

The burly man forced himself to take a breath. "I'm not."

"No, you are."

"Fine. I am. But love, what is this?" He bent down to her level and grabbed her wrists, showcasing the ash across her palms.

"It was… it was so filthy across the front here. I've been staring at it for days. I just need to finish-"

"-With your bare hands? With these pretty little hands you intend to wipe ashes from a burning fireplace?"

"Just the front-"

"-And now I've got to wash all of this off you, don't I?" It sounded condescending, like scolding a child, but the light twinkle in his eyes proved that he enjoyed caring for her even when it exhausted his efforts.

"I was only trying to to help."

Her watery eyes were causing his heart to ache with a slight devastation. "I know, I know. But you're too close to the flames for my liking. Our little pup will melt."

A silent sob wracked through her at the mere thought of harm to their unborn child. Harm that was her fault. 

"Oh, sweet girl. I didn't- I- oh, gods," he tucked an arm around her. "None of that. Let's wash you up."

"But the ash-"

"-When you get into bed, I'll handle the ash. Alright?" He asked quietly with a hopeful look in his eyes.

Her eyes searched his for a way to truly know he meant what he was saying. To wake in the morning to the sight of ash still in place was unbearable at the moment. "Alright."

"Alright," he confirmed with a relieved smile. "Alright. Let's get you up, yes?"

She nodded as he he helped her up and sit on their sofa. He held her hands palm up and gave her a stern look. "Stay here." 

He moved to the small water basin by their beside and dipped a cloth in it, soaking it completely before moving back to her. 

He cradled each hand gently as he wiped at the ash on her hands, taking care to wipe as much as he could. "Ash is dangerous, my love. I want you to tell me next time you want it cleaned."

"I thought I could do it quickly," she explained.

"Just promise me you'll tell me what you want done rather than doing it yourself. I don't want you to overexert yourself."

She heaved a defeated sigh. "Alright."

He kissed her forehead. "Thank you. We'll wash you and get you to bed."

…

A week had passed in which Cregan had constantly ushered her to their bed, the nearest seat, and even having her sit in his large seat during petitions as he stood next to her.

But today he had yet to see her, and he began to miss her. 

The moment the petitions ended, he excused himself to his solar, where he knew she'd be cuddled up with one of her few books.

He was right. The door opened, and he grinned at the sight of his wife with his cloak wrapped around her, reading away at the book he was sure she'd read at least seven times now. "Enjoying yourself?"

Her head shot up. "I didn't expect to see you for another few hours."

"I finished early. You know I can't stay away for too long."

She set her book away as he entered the room. 

He kissed her softly and rubbed his thumb across her cheek. "What did you do with your day, pretty girl?"

She fidgeting with her hands. "I read quite a bit. That's all."

His brows twitched. "That's all? Just reading?" He knew better.

"Just that."

He ran his tongue across his front teeth. "If I go into our chambers, I won't find anything different than it was this morning?"

Her eyes widened. "Don't-"

"See? I know you too well." He leaned down and kissed her again. "You can tell me now, or I can go see for myself."

"No, stay here," she said in an urgent manner. "Stay with me. I've missed you," she tried to cover.

He pretended to give into her, letting her pull him down by the grip she had on his doublet. He kissed her cheek then pulled away quickly. "I'll be back."

"No, wait."

Cregan was already gone, moving swiftly to the bedroom and tossing the door open. Laid across their bed was an abundance of furs. Every cloak they owned but the ones they currently wore. Every fur blanket made for them was thrown on the bed. It all seemed messily done, but he knew better.

Not long after, the sound of his wife's footsteps came to his ears and he turned to meet her. "You've been quite busy."

"I'm only preparing, Cregan!" She whined. Her arms wrapped around his torso, her stomach keeping her from being fully against him. "It'll be any day now."

"You beautifully stubborn girl," he said with a shaking head in mock frustration. "You promised you'd tell me when you needed something."

"This is hardly a change. It was easy, I assure you."

"Love, I can't sleep like that. I burn like a furnace in the night anyway. This won't do any better."

"But the babe-"

He took her by the biceps, tugging her away from him. "The babe will be fine. The North is cold, but Winterfell is warm and comforting. Now please. Let me remove some of this from our bed."

Her eyes darted through the doorway to the bed and back up and him a few times in contemplation. "Fine."

"You sit over there," he pointed at their sofa. "And I'll do this."

She waddled over to the sofa, sitting down with a slight distain. 

Cregan began to throw cloaks and furs over his shoulders, inspecting each one in light amusement and annoyance. He threw looks to his wife occasionally when she would say, "Not that one." Or "Keep that one." He had managed to get most of them off the bed before he gave in. "You'll keep these three. Understand?"

She nodded. "And if I get cold?"

He sighed. "You have a warm husband. He won't let the chill touch you or the girl."

He took his leave, pausing with a smile when he caught her soft "girl?". But he left anyway, returning the furs where they belonged. 

…

Cregan was indeed right again, for she laid in bed in a small puddle of sweat. The heat was great in their shared bed, and her husband was right to correct her previous thought.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" the great lord muttered, his voice riddled with sleep. His eyes were closed peacefully, but even with no sight, he knew when his wife was troubled.

"Just-" Cregan's hand rubbed at her bump gently, urging her to continue. "A girl?"

He let out huff, pulling himself from sleep. "I know it's a girl."

"It's not," she urged. "It's not. It's a boy."

He peeked his eyes open. "I don't care what it is. But I know it's a girl."

She let out a disappointed sound and pushed his arm away, beginning to push herself up to sit.

"No. You need to sleep."

"I have to change things now. I'm not ready for a girl," she explained with a hurried tone. 

Before she could even move off the bed, Cregan had reached out and grabbed her, pulling her back to him and gently forcing her to lay back down. "There's nothing to change," he urged with his eyes locked on hers. "You've done everything right. The babe is loved and cared for, and the rest will fall into place. Yes?" When she didn't answer, he kissed her softly and tried again. "Yes?"

That was what she needed to hear. "Yes." She rubbed a hand over her shoulders in an attempt to soothe an ache. "Yes. You're right. He'll be fine."

"She'll be fine," he teased.

She sent an icy glare, making him close his mouth and lay back down.

"We'll just focus on today, alright? And today, you need sleep." When she had cuddled up to his side, he relaxed, knowing he had his entire world in his arms. "Just focus on today."

...................................................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver, @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom, @dozcan123, @wangjiangelangel, @kamitargaryen, @aegonswife, @lv7867, @helpmedecideaname, @cherryheairt, @classicsimpforaaronwarner,

[lex-the-flex]

Drinking the Water of Life

Paul Atreides x reader

He didn't want this. He never wanted this to happen. So why now? And why did it have to you?

From the moment Paul Atreides claimed his Fremen name, he prayed this wouldn't have to happen. But it did. While his mind was clear and open, yours remained foggy and closed off. If it was up to him, he would've kept you there, with your limited visions of the future.

But he loved you with all his heart.

And he couldn't see you suffer any longer without him. Paul chose you to rule at his side, after all.

Returning to your place in the shared communal room, Paul offers you a small smile before returning to his meal.

"How are you? I haven't seen you all day." He whispered so only you could hear.

"I'm alright. The water extractors are holding up. You should've seen all the packs I had to carry. Stilgar was impressed that I could carry thirty pounds for three straight miles." You explain.

Finally being able to relax at Paul's side, you notice how his blue within blue eyes look at you. While he's proud of you, something else lingers behind his orbs.

"Paul, what is it?" You ask.

Setting down his bowl, he takes your hands in his with a gentle grasp. Calmly stroking his fingers over your knuckles, he leans closer, his lips inches from your ear.

"I need you to travel South with me. Just the two of us, on a private mission before the others make the journey. I need you by my side, Y/N." He explains.

Calmly nodding your head, you instantly knew what he meant: you had to drink the Water of Life. The others knew it too, spreading rumors that stung like needles into your back. How you weren't worthy of loving Paul, the Muad'dib. Even the other Fremen began to question your loyalty.

As you were an outsider like Paul and his mother, Jessica, you remained faithful to House Atreides as it was one of the final commands given to you by Duke Leto himself. But now you had to truly prove yourself, you had to show everyone why Paul chose you above any other Fremen girl in your sietch.

"Okay, Paul. I will follow your hand until the very end. I will follow Muad'dib, my Usul, with an open heart." You declare as he pulls you in for a loving embrace.

*****

Guiding you further into the Southern temple, Paul never lets go of your hand. The beautiful sanctuary pulls you in with its calming circular architecture and stillness. Leading you to the main chamber, Paul is welcomed by another Fremen fundamentalist showing him the utmost respect.

Discovering a pool of water, you wander over to it before noticing the presence of a small sandworm swimming in the cloudy liquid. Scrunching your brows at the rapidly moving creature, Paul places his hand on your shoulder.

"It's time, Y/N."

Joining Paul and the Fremen member, she holds a jar containing a bright blue liquid that appears even sharper than the blue within blue eyes themselves. Feeling your breath catch in the back of your throat, you begin to panic, even taking a step away from Paul.

Placing a hand over your chest, your bare fingertips try to find solace in the sand covered stillsuit, and your own heartbeat echoes against your eardrums.

"It's alright. It's alright, Y/N. I'm here." Paul advises, leaning his forehead against yours.

Holding the nape of your neck in his hands, his dark curls tickle the edge of your face.

"I... I don't know if I can do this, Paul. I can't fail you." You say as your lip begins to quiver.

"You can. I believe in you. House Atreides believes you. You can do this, Y/N, just as your Usul before you." Paul replies, stroking your cheek.

Calming your breathing, you quietly nod before Paul, coming to your decision.

Laying down in between the stone pools, the Fremen offers you the glass bottle, lowering the top of the spout into your open mouth. Drinking the cold liquid, you swallow the water, and it enters your system. Taking your hand in his, Paul rubs your knuckles whilst your body goes numb.

Convulsing on the stone, every inch of your body writhes in pain, from the temples on your head, to your very reproductive system. A terrifying scream releases from your damp lips as the visions of the future, past, and present dance along the thin skin of your eyelids. Then, as soon as they appear, the prophecies of the future disappear within seconds.

You were cold, numb, in between the land of the living and the dead.

Offering the bottle to Paul, tears begin to fall on his face, and he mixes the salty drops with the freshwater.

Pressing the water to your lips, Paul bends down and kisses you lips, allowing you to return to him once more.

Feeling his lips leave your own, your eyes open, and you are awake. Your mind was open and Paul took you into his lap, studying your new set of eyes with all the love he could give you.

taglist ~

@dreamliners

@visionsofsweettea

@xplore-the-unknwn

@kaleidoscope1967eyes

@shions-new-blog-of-stuff

[underestimated-heroine]

The fact that radfems spread this post around is actually really interesting--infuriating, but interesting. Because what they've really done here is tell on themselves.

This is the shrimp guy story:

From an anonymous green text called "shrimp saved my life" [emphasis mine]:

>be depressed, suicidal xanax- addicted incel >one day I go to my /aq/fag uncle's house for some shit >he has pet shrimp, never seen anything like it before >he offers to get me some 53 KB JPG >throw them in a barely cycled tank with some shitty rock >several shrimp die >realize that I killed them with my apathy >realize I need to take responsibility for once in my life >do research, learn about water parameters and so on >eventually I have a beautiful planted tank with no more deaths >notice a female shrimp carrying eggs >haven't felt this excited about anything in almost a decade >the eggs disappear and I once again think I fucked up >a few days later I see a tiny transparent baby shrimp >l suddenly know how the shepherds felt as they gazed upon the newborn Christ >by this point I live and breathe shrimp >all my spare time is spent on shrimp research and watching shrimp videos >l spend most of the money I had saved from my last job on shrimp products >quit the Xanax to support shrimp spending >start putting effort into college in hope of getting a good job for my shrimp >grades improve, no longer facing the prospect of dropping out >relationship with parents improves since I am finally passionate about something and applying myself >l see genuine happiness in their eyes when I talk excitedly about my shrimp >for my birthday my mom makes me a shrimp cake >it even has fondant legs and little chocolate eggs >cry like a little bitch when I see it >mom hugs me and tells me she's always been proud of me >college dorm neighbours demand to see my shrimp >shit they're gonna think I'm autistic >they actually think my shrimp are really cool >they start inviting me to their social events >start interacting with girls, get told by girls for the first time in my life that I'm fun and smart >l think my shrimp would be proud of me if they knew >We're gonna make it bros. Even if you can't do it for yourself, do it for the animals that depend on you.

He did address his relationship with women. By finding a hobby and passion and working on himself--"touching grass"--he stepped away from the echo chamber that filled him with all this rage and convinced him women were to blame for all of his problems. As someone once wisely observed, "the cure is going offline and realizing it's just. really not that big a deal."

And that is what radfems have not done, so of course they didn't spot the quiet flashpoint of shrimp guy's personal development within his story.

Edit: it's been brought to my attention that the version of the greentext post I lifted the text from was censored by someone else. My bad for not realizing that, tbh it was done so well I thought shrimp guy had done it himself, but that's an important part of the post. I've gone back through and un-censored it. The reply which was spread around with the original post addressed the words themselves well, I think; however distasteful and fucked up the incel rabbit hole is, it doesn't diminish his growth.

[shegatsby]

i'm aching for feyd rautha x fremen reader!!! perhaps soulmate situation where feyd has dreams about reader and is UTTERLY OBSESSED (please i yearn) ((im so normal about feyd rautha)) also pls drink water and its no rush :))

A/n; HIIIII! This is my first Feyd-Rautha fanfic so go easy on me. Thank you so much for this request, not me giggling and blushing as i was writing this. English isn't my first language so I'm so sorry for any typos.

Words; 5.315K (wow i out did myself lol)

Warnings; War, killing, abduction

He was running, he could feel the rain on his face but he kept running. Moist sand and wet mélange filled his nostrils, the damp sand stuck to his heavy boots, the sound they made was similar to walking on the fresh snow. He never thought he could smell things in his dreams, ‘’Find me.’’  A woman’s soft voice echoed in his ears, ‘’I dare you.’’ And there she was, standing in her stillsuit, hair long and wet, over the years her face was getting more and more clear. Before Feyd could reach and grab her he woke up. He was sweating and he wasn’t in Arrakis, he was in Giedi Prime, House Harkonnen. He could feel the cold satin of his sheets, ‘’Who are you?’’ he whispered into thin air, nothing moved or made a sound. His room was dark, as usual. He rose to his feet and walked to the large glass, his side of the castle over looked the volcanic wasteland that was Giedi Prime, heavly industrialized, low photosynthesis. Harkonnen’s kept the original forests but other than that everything was stone and building.

Feyd-Rautha was a rational man when it comes to these things, however, he kept having these dreams since he was a child. In his dreams he was either in his home planet or Arrakis, he wasn’t alone. The girl in his dreams had always been distant, over the years the girl kept coming closer and closer. Last few months he could see her face clearly. She was a beauty, none of his concubines could match it. Sometimes they would sit in silence or he would chase her… he was going to lose his mind. He needed answers to these dreams, with the arrival of Reverend Mother Helen Mohiam he hoped to get those answers he was looking for. He ordered his men to keep the Reverend Mother at greeting room, when he got ready he left his chambers in a hasty manner. He was a man of action and he didn’t like waiting or making his guest wait, he had a reputation to keep.

Reverend Mother was seated at one of the metal chairs, covered in black clothing, she fitted the room, the castle of Harkonnen was mostly black and grey, servants and soldiers had to wear the same colors as well.

At first Reverend Mother had to test him to see if he was human or not, he followed her instructions and put his hand in a box, he had to endure the pain which was something he got used to and he even enjoyed getting hurt but this was something else. He could feel his hand burn and freeze at the same time, visions ran at a fast speed in his mind’s eyes. He was eager to prove himself so he didn’t flinch, he could feel sweat running down his face, Reverend Mother didn’t not react at all.

‘’You have passed the test.’’ She announced in a flat tone but he knew she was impressed.

‘’My turn.’’  He said which confused the old woman, he was kneeling for this test so he bolted to his feet and took a step back. Hands clasped at his back, he seemed intimidating in his black tunic and pants. His boots made him look much taller than others and he was already a tall man.

‘’What do you know about dreams?’’

‘’Tell me yours and I shall reveal the truth.’’ His eyes searched her face, which was difficult to see through her thin scarf, ‘’I-‘’ he started, ‘’I see.. her.’’ He was hesitant. Reverend Mother noticed the way he said ‘’her’’ this woman must be of importance. ‘’Go on.’’ Old age made her curious for gossip and she thought she was about hear the juiciest one, she didn’t know she was going to discover something larger. Larger than anyone on this Universe.

‘’I’m usually in Arrakis, it rains, and I see her. She speaks to me. She wants me to find her in the desert. I believe she is a Fremen.’’ He shortly explains, Reverend Mother leaned in, ‘’What does he say exactly?’’ Feyd felt naked before this old witch. ‘’ ‘Find me.’ She says, I could hear her in my mind. She wants us to unite.’’ There was a silence, his patience running thin, was he going insaner than usual or these dreams meant something?

‘’Arrakis… rain.. a girl…’’ he heard Reverend Mother whisper to herself, ‘’How long have you been having these dreams?’’ she asked, she was the one who suppose to give answers to him and yet she was questioning him. ‘’Since my childhood.’’ And with that Reverend Mother quickly stood up, which was quicker than expected, considering her age. ‘’I must speak to your uncle Baron Vladimir. Wait us here.’’ He had no choice now, the Pandora’s box was opened. He would rather fight in the arena than waiting here. He was pacing in the large room that had black marble floors, his boots made distinctive sound son the cold floor, his head turned to the doors of the room when they were opened by the servants, his uncle came floating, next to him Reverend Mother followed, Baron was ear to ear smiling, ‘’Hearing these news on your name day is nothing but fate.’’ The old man announced, it was true. Today was Feyd-Rautha’s name day and a ceremony was waiting for him later. ‘’Congratulations, Reverend Mother here says you’ll be the one who raise Harkonnen to its glory.’’ He said with his raspy voice, he seemed joyful even, well, a joy that fit him, cold and calculating. Feyd’s snake like neck moved in questioning, ‘’What about Rabban?’’ his brother Rabban was in Arrakis, ruling in the name of Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, mostly failing him and their family. ‘’He will be reassigned.’’ In their family this meant that it was his last chance, or he would be killed.

‘’Enjoy Arrakis.’’ A cunning smile made him look even more terrifying. He left them alone, Feyd was confused but also the idea of controlling spice made his body electric. ‘’To fulfill your destiny you have to find that Fremen and to secure your place you have to join your house with their kind. They shall be easier to control. I’m sure she is waiting for you to claim her.’’ Reverend Mother was testing the waters, she watched Feyd-Rautha’s expression change into predator mode after she spoke. Now it was a hunt for him and she knew that he won’t stop until he fulfilled his mission.

Feyd knew what Reverend Mother meant but to join with the barbarians?! His house’s reputation could be at stake. He was a psychotic killer but he had rules. He will not tolerate anything that might humiliate his family name. he didn’t want to think further about this so he found himself marching to the arena. After the games he was suppose to have his ceremony and be shipped to Arrakis, his new home.

His ‘’ascending’’ to the title of ‘’Na-Baron’’ was well organized. Rabban lost his rank so it was his time to shine, bring glory and fame to his name and his house. Among the loud cries and applauses Baron Vladimir held his nephew’s face in his sweaty palms and whispered into his ears, ‘’Do not fail me son.’’ It wasn’t coming from affection, it was a threat. He knew his missions;

‘’Control Rabban,

Take over the spice production and multiply the income,

Fulfill what Reverend Mother said.’’

First two were easy…

That night he was shipped to Arrakis with an army and his most loyaly men. As soon as he landed he had one thing in mind, ‘’make Rabban pay for his foolishness’’, ‘’My Na-Baron,’’ servants greeted him outside the castle of Arrakis, hot sun hit his face, he could smell the mélange. ‘’Lord Rabban is waiting for you.’’ As she walked to the Coordination Chambers he watched servants bow in fear and respect. He liked what he saw. Without waiting for servants to open the door for him he barged in. ‘’Rabban!’’ he yelled in animalistic anger. No one noticed the was Rabban flinched but him. ‘’You have humiliated our house,’’ he took a step towards him, ‘’you have humiliated me.’’ And another step. ‘’Kiss my foot.’’ He said cautiously, waiting for Rabban’s reaction and since none came Feyd pushed Rabban to the floor, ‘’Kiss or die.’’ Rabban  had no choice but to give in.

Following days were easy. Fremens didn’t know the change in command so first attack was successful. Spice production was slow but promising. Other houses started to send gifts and letters to him to gain his favor. ‘’He who controls the spice controls the entire galaxy.’’ his uncle used to say to him as a child and he was right.

Weeks passed and every time he launched an attack he was also at the front with his men. Main reason was his thirst for blood and gore, however a side of him was looking for something or rather someone. Ever since his arrival his dreams became more frequent and vivid.

The girl kept saying ‘’You’re close.’’

She must be near he could feel it, but among thousands of Fremen girls how was he suppose to find her?

Whenever they attacked he ordered his men to gather Fremen girls who were close to his age, after capturing them he would look at their faces and try to find her but his research was in vain, or so he thought.

Months passed, he was growing restless and Fremen knew how to fight. Disputes were bringing imbalance to the realm. He was refusing to sleep due to the fact that you were in his dreams and he was making plans, growing tactics to find you.  Also he didn’t have much time since the Padishah Emperor Shaddam sent him a letter;

‘’Find what you are looking for and bring stability.’’

It was a direct order otherwise he knew that Padishah Emperor would sent his soldiers, Sardaukars to take over what he had established so far.

After that letter his attacks grew more persistent.

‘’Na-Baron, Prisoners are here.’’ Without changing his blood dripping battle suit he marched to the room where the prisoners were kept. They were all on their knees, hands tied behind their backs. ‘’How many?’’ he asked to his general, removing his leather gloves, ‘’20 my Na-Baron.’’

Sleepless night had a toll on him, he was more on the edge than usual. It was going to be almost a year since he came to Arrakis. Fighting with Fremens put the spice production at risk and he couldn’t have that. ‘’I am looking for someone.’’ He began, Fremens knew by now that he was looking for a girl, old Fremens believed that it was a part of a prophecy long forgotten, most of the young ones thought it was a Benne Gesserit tactic to control them.

‘’Eyes up!’’ he yelled, and they looked up to meet his vicious gaze, at the corner one of the girls looked up and immediately lowered her gaze. ‘’You!’’ he pointed to the girl, ‘’Bring her to me.’’ He ordered and two of his men dragged her to him. His pale hand held her face to look deeply but it was false alarm, it wasn’t her. ‘’Why did she move her eyes though?’’ he thought. She seemed like she was holding something… information? Maybe.

‘’It seems like you know me.’’ He said quietly, ‘’I don’t know you.’’ He northerner accent filled his ears. Her voice was shaking and her fear gave it away, ‘’Ohh,’’ Feyd-Rautha loved to see fear in people’s eyes. ‘’You and I, we’re going to have a talk.’’ He moved his head slightly to the left and his men took the girl to a questioning room. Others moved in their places with an uneasy manner.

Feyd didn’t want to waste no time so he followed his men to the room. Inside the castle was kept at a mild temperature, outside was hell. He never thought he could get used to the heat but he adapted.

Feyd watched his men chain the girl to a metal chair and also watched the scared girl observe the room. Brown walls and floors were covered in blood, there were human parts here and there. ‘’What are you going to do to me?’’ she asked trying to stay calm. He wasn’t in the mood for torture since he just came from a battle, ‘’Nothing if you aid and abet. You might even have a luxurious life for your family in the city.’’ Rich Fremens lived in the city. He was actually being honest, she could tell. ‘’Tell me what do you know.’’ If one looked closer it could be seen that he was tired, after all he was human and human beings had their limits. ‘’Promise you won’t hurt her.’’

With the mention of you, his posture got straighter, ‘’I don’t intend to.’’

‘’And promise you let those women go to their homes.’’ Feyd felt generous today, ‘’Set them free.’’ He ordered which shocked his men, ‘’But my Na-Baron,’’ his solider’s sentence cut short since Feyd cut his throat. ‘’You heard me.’’ He warned his other soldiers. ‘’Now,’’ he looked at her, ‘’your turn.’’

The girl seemed cautious. ‘’I… I think I know who you’re looking for.’’ She started, ‘’I have a friend, since childhood. She keeps telling me her dreams of a man.. description fits you perfectly.’’ She finished as if an invisible burden lifted off of her shoulders. ‘’She is a respected soldier’s daughter, they live in a secluded cave, well guarded. It won’t be easy.’’ Feyd smiled in anticipation,

‘’I don’t want easy.’’

The girl gave the exact coordinates, as he was leaving he stopped in his tracks, ‘’What’s her name?’’

‘’Y/N.’’

He rested during the day, he wanted to attack to their Sietch when its late night. ‘’Y/N…’’ he whispered like praying to Gods. ‘’A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.’’

The sietch was in deep desert but his men were perfectly prepared. He positioned his men at the exists and entrances of the sietch.

They blasted the stone walls which were doors, Fremen knew how to be one with the desert. Fremen were ambushed, they didn’t expect the attack but they were brave, sietch was big with multiple floors. Since Y/N was a well respected soldier’s daughter she must be upstairs with other higher ranks. He moved past everyone, climbing the stone stairs, screams were music to his ears. He pushed and kicked everyone who was on his way. Upstairs the rooms had thin green curtains that were see-through. He didn’t bother with crying children and their mothers, his one and only mission was to find Y/N and leave with her. As he was walking carefully on the long hall which had rooms on his left and right he felt a presence at his back. His blade crashed with another. The woman was in her stillsuit just like others, her face and hair covered with a dirty beige scarf, only eyes could be seen. ‘’Move out of my way girl and you will live.’’ When the girl heard his voice he noticed the hand she was holding the blade go soft for a split second but gained strength once again.

Feyd’s suit was specifically designed for him, head to toe he was dipped in jet black, a mask covering his face yet his eyes were there like dark diamonds. Shining with thirst. She didn’t say anything and made her move. She was passionate, it didn’t go unnoticed by him, maybe she had a thirst for blood just like him. Feyd stepped back and her crysknife licked the air. ‘’I gave you chance.’’ Feyd said before he launched at her, he was swift but the girl answered every stroke. ‘’You are good…’’ he was out of breath, her stance was weak, ‘’but not that good.’’ And they danced. Feyd made her trip, Fremen girl wasn’t even making a sound while attacking, she was like the desert, silent. Her moves made him think of swans, elegant yet bold. Feyd could feel that tonight he was going to satisfy his need for blood. 

Fremen girl threw sand to his face to get advantage because she was unstable, ‘’Unfair.’’ She heard him say. He rubbed his eyes and had to remove his mask. She saw him under the orange glowglobe, her knife dropped and ran to the opposite direction.

Feyd-Rautha wasn’t a stupid man. This action of hers gave her true identity. Like a predator he began the chase, it was thrilling. It wasn’t easy to spot her among Fremens who wear the same colored suits but it made the chase more fun. Something in him told him to go to the nearest exit and he did.

He had fewer men outside since most of the action was inside the sietch, the sand was covered in blood and his man laying stiff on the ground. One of his men lost his weapon, maybe she took it?

He closed his eyes to listen to the desert, he could hear swift motions, he followed where the sound coming from, there were large rocks to his left and he moved. Someone jumped at him behind the rocks, he fell to the ground, smell of spice made him a bit dizzy but he composed himself quickly. Two small hands grabbed his throat, sitting on top of him. She was screaming in ecstasy, maybe she never killed someone and she thought this was going to be her first. Feyd thought it was cute that she thinks she could kill him. With all of his strength he moved to his side dragging her along with him. Now she was laying on the ground, with one of his hand he pinned her hands above her head, he didn’t forget to give all of his weight to make her stay put, her legs wrapped around his waist. With his other hand he found his knife and cut her scarf. Her pure face revealed under Arrakis’s two glowing moons. His animalistic smile grew, ‘’Found you.’’ She was struggling to get away, like an animal trapped in a cage. ‘’Sleep tight.’’ And he injected a sedative, in seconds her shiny eyes closed.

Arrakis has woken up to a new day, a new era one might say. Na-Baron was energetic, he woke up to a letter from Reverend Mother; ‘’Now that you got what you came for it won’t be hard to continue.’’

It was a simple message for an ordinary man’s eyes yet Feyd-Rautha wasn’t an ordinary man. It meant that ‘’Bring stability by uniting his house with the Fremens.’’ Last night’s events showed that he needed much time to break her to his liking. He had so many questions to ask her…

After a really long time Feyd had a boyish excitement. He was having his breakfast eagerly in his bed chambers when his door knocked and his Mentat walked in. ‘’How is she?’’ he asked eating his beef. ‘’My Na-Baron, she is creating chaos. Unstable.’’ He chuckled, sucked the juice off of his thumb, ‘’Take me to her.’’

She was kept in a guest room, probably biggest room she had ever had the luxury of staying, his Mentat went in first and Na-Baron heard the immediate screams from her, he also heard some metal clinging and barged in. She was chained at the end of the room, her hands and neck. ‘’What is the meaning of this?!’’ he yelled to his Mentat, ‘’Why is my bride chained to a wall?!’’ he could feel the rage in his veins. ‘’My Na-Baron, she is aggressive and killed a servant. We had no choice.’’

‘’Leave us.’’

When the door closed a thick silence occupied the room. She was standing in her stillsuit, hair a mess, and anger in her pretty eyes, eyes that were so familiar to him. He slowly approached, watched her move to the opposite direction, as he got close he could see the red marks on her wrists and neck. He came to a stop at a white line on the floor, his Mentat must have painted it.

‘’I’m not going to hurt you little dove.’’ His voice was calm which puzzled her, he was yelling at his Mentat seconds ago. His raspy tone which was inherited in his bloodline made her take a step back. ‘’Are you hungry?’’ she was shocked at his questioning. She only nodded, ‘’If you promise to not attack my servants they will bathe you and give you clean clothes, later you can have a fulfilling meal.’’ He tilted his head, his sharp jaw pointed like a blade, ‘’How does that sound?’’ Feyd could tell that she was tired and strangers made her uneasy, Fremens were a close-knit community, didn’t like strangers but they weren’t strangers, they haven’t been for a long time. Even though she didn’t let her guard down he could feel that she was less tense. ‘’I will be back.’’

After an hour or so Feyd was informed that she didn’t attack anyone, let the maids bathe her and dress her. Now she was eating, perfect timing.

Feyd-Rautha checked himself on the mirror, he had sleeveless black tunic and black pants, black boots. As usual. He left his chambers to visit her.

He opened the guest room door to see her eating, two maids waiting at her back. Y/N stopped eating when she saw her. She had a dark purple dress, showing her elegant shoulders, as he cautiously approached she smelled like a garden of roses, her hair brushed and braided. ‘’Leave us.’’ His eyes never leaving her. As the maids were leaving he didn’t forget to press the button on his chest, he had an invisible shield. Just in case.

‘’Please,’’ he said ‘’continue.’’ He sat next to her, grabbed an apple from the fruit basket. In the menu there was red wine, cooked fish and fruit. ‘’I’ve chosen the menu for you, is it to your liking?’’ she took a sip from her wine to clean her throat, half of the fish was eaten already. ‘’What is this?’’ she pointed at the fish, this was the first time Feyd heard her in real life. He had a victorious smile which Y/N found it odd. ‘’Fish. Have you ever seen a live one before?’’

‘’No.’’

‘’They live in the sea, lakes, rivers…’’ he stood up to move close to the wall to wall window, ‘’Imagine this desert filled with water. In that water animals like fish lives.’’ He turned to see her reaction, her eyes shone interest, ‘’I’m going to take you to planets that have sea.’’ He was speaking more to himself.

‘’What do you want?’’ she asked harshly, ‘’I want you.’’

Fremens were up front about their thoughts and feelings but seeing an outsider being that way shocked her. ‘’We have the same dreams since childhood. Am I mistaken?’’ he had to be sure. She nodded, ‘’Don’t you think this is.. fate?’’ yes, she was having the same dreams of him, last night when she saw his face her body was in fight or flight and she choose flight. All she wanted to do right now get the knife from the table and jab it to his pale neck, she thought nothing was stopping her so slowly her left hand went to the table, Feyd’s back was turn but he had pointy ears. She jumped from her seat to his back, like a monkey but an invisible energy was pushing the knife from his neck. Feyd’s laughter echoed in the room and with one move he pulled her from his back and made her stand in front of him, holding her hands behind her back, now they were glued. This was the first time they were this close without war gear, he could feel her breasts pressing his chest, up close she noticed how smooth his arms were, and how masculine he was. ‘’I didn’t expect the least from you.’’ He said smiling, he was mad, that’s for sure. She lost her temper.

‘’You murdered my kin! You killed my family, my friends! I would rather die!’’ the fire in her eyes intrigued him. Her eyes were getting blurry, she was fighting to escape but his grip was strong.

‘’If they gave me the spice willingly none of this would happen.’’ He said with a serious tone, ‘’Let go of me!’’ she screamed, ‘’I would rather be eaten by Shai Hulud than be your bride!’’ she was crying now, her vision was blurry and Feyd let her go. Y/N’s tired arms which held bruises from last night hitting his chest, ‘’I have no one-‘’ she was having an attack, ‘’because of you-‘’ Feyd felt a lump in his throat, it was strange to him, he never thought he would feel sadness but here he was. He achieved everything he ever wanted but why did he have a bitter taste in his mouth?

She was shaking violently, Feyd held her, the reality of the situation hit her like a sand storm. People that she called family were gone by the hands of this man who was holding her so delicately…

These hands that were brushing her hair committed atrocities…

Months of hiding and fighting made her fall to her knees, she lost to the outsider.

‘’You have me now.’’ She heard the Na-Baron say, ‘’Shh,’’ she felt his plump lips on her hair, ‘’you have me little dove.’’ Her body gave in and she fainted.

‘’It was a seizure due to stress my Na-Baron.’’ Feyd-Rautha was by her side, she was sleeping, when Mentat left he found himself holding her hand and climbing to bed. ‘’What if this doesn’t work out?’’

The pressure of keeping his family name at its glory kicked in. Feyd lived his life to be the perfect Harkonnen, could he loose it all?

Reverend Mother was suppose to come to Arrakis in a few days to see Y/N and question her, they only had few days to get to know each other. What would happen if Reverend Mother didn’t see Y/N as a right match for their breeding program? But the dreams… element of fate.. it was too much for him. He let his body relax next to Y/N’s, still holding her hand he fell asleep.

Y/N felt a presence next to her and her eyes opened immediately. It was night, and a glowglobe lit the room dimly, the night was silent. To her left she saw him, sleeping peacefully, her hand in his, she wondered how could someone commit murder day and night and then sleep like this. No care in the world, she thought, how wrong she was.

At first she thought her dreams to be simple imagination of children, later in life the dreams grew frequent. In her dreams she kept seeing him holding her hand and leading her to new planets, the first person she told about these dreams was her father who took her to an old lady, after having a mélange session the old woman started to scream ‘’So it’s written!’’ there was an old prophecy long forgotten, a Fremen girl was going to marry an outsider which would bring stability. For years her people had fought, hid in the shadows, she never believed the prophecy and moved on but her father and her close friend and that old woman believed religiously. She turned to observe him. He looked so pure she didn’t want to believe that this man was the man she fought back at home. ‘’Like what you see?’’ his raspy voice had amusement. She didn’t move or said nothing. He opened her blue eyes, his hand gently went up to trace the outlines of her face, ‘’Give me a chance to introduce myself.’’ And he kissed her hand, together they fallen asleep again.

The next morning they had breakfast in silence, ‘’I want to show you something today.’’ He announced and he took her to the garden inside the castle. Years ago his ancestors built a garden inside that well kept and full of flowers from different planets. Y/N had never seen these before, she read about plants because she was interested in them but seeing them in real life was something else. She found herself smelling every flower, Feyd noticed the huge smile on her face, they sat among the flowers, neither of them dared to utter a word. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, she was in awe of this place and Feyd was in awe of her. She looked divine in her orange dress, she looked positively care free.

All day they didn’t speak a word to each other, Feyd gave some orders, other than that he intend to keep the silence. In silence there was no rejection, no fighting. They had dinner together, and he watched her take off her clothes wear her night gown and lay on the bed. They were in his bed chambers so he also changed and went to bed. There was a space between them which Feyd didn’t like. He was discovering new things about himself such as desire to have physical contact. Her back was turned to him, he came close and hugged her from behind, she didn’t move.

The days that followed were the same. Slowly Feyd started to give her information about his life here and there, she listened intently but her heart was with the desert. So many times Feyd caught her staring out the window, Y/N also made comments to things he said or shared memories of her past. She had to make a decision but she wasn’t in hurry since the Harkonnen’s and Fremens stopped fighting since she was captured. That night she felt the cold side of the bed and woke up, Feyd was gone, yes they slept in the same bed for days but nothing happened. She rose to her feet and fell on her knees, the castle was under attack. Sirens could be heard everywhere. Out the window she saw Fremens attack the castle, she found a knife from Feyd’s closet and left the room. The halls were packed with Harkonnen soldiers, marching outside to meet the attack and they had heavy machines, also their numbers higher than Fremens. She had to find him and put an end to this.

Bare foot she was running, they all seemed the same, pale skin and black suits. When Y/N saw his Mentat she ran to him, ‘’Where is he?!’’ she yelled, it was chaos, chaose everywhere. ‘’My lady you shouldn’t be outside.’’ She didn’t care, ‘’Where is he?!’’ she demanded. ‘’At the entrance, greeting the Fremens.’’ And she ran. Mentat was right he was fighting and killing her kin, he was a skilled killing machine.  ‘’FEYD!’’ she screamed at the top of her lungs. Fremens that knew her stopped in their tracks, shocked to see her in a luxurious night gown, they were here to collect her. ‘’FEYD!’’ the Fremen he was fighting stopped when he saw her and it made Feyd stop too, among dust and falling men he turned to face her. He was covered in blood, holding knives in both of his hands, he slashed open the Fremen’s throat and walked to her. She could feel her blood run cold.

‘’How could you?!’’ she attacked, Feyd immediately held her hand that was holding the knife, her knife dropped.

‘’Mary me!’’ he screamed, ‘’Mary me and I’ll stop the war.’’

Y/N looked around, watching her people fall to the sand and lose it was too much to bear, it was high time someone put an end to this and if it was her then she had to fulfill her destiny.

She said nothing but held his face and kissed his plump lips.

[narutouzumakiarchive]

How to deal with the homophobic and horrible ss, nh, sh etc. stans? Just reading their content makes me feel gaslighted and makes me want to quit my little sns blog, because I feel isolated.

First of all, I'm sorry you feel that way. The best thing to do is honestly to just ignore them. The canon ships, in particular, are horrid and are consequently routinely subjected to lots of criticism by people outside of the carefully constructed echo chambers of canon shippers. SS/NH fans cope with this by harassing SNS shippers who have been a particular source of insecurity for the entire run of the show. There's a reason why they routinely steal from the sns dynamic to prop up their ship and have to rely on fillers and novels and databooks, etc. instead of working with the manga.

This brings me to my next point. Part of the reason they are so emboldened is because the "victors" are the ones who write the story, and they've used this to control the narrative and recontextualize what actually happened during the original run of the story. So, something you should know is that SNS fans have always been right about the core of the manga.

While there were obviously endgame SS/NH believers, the idea that Sasuke/Sakura and Naruto/Hinata were mutually in love was not a unifying factor in those fandoms.

In the Naruto Collector Book 3, there was an interview in which Kishimoto himself acknowledged the fact that Sakura and Hinata's feelings of love were unrequited. This interview is practically lost media, and is conveniently never discussed but the book is still available. The collector series has other interviews with Kishimoto as well.

But the main point is that this interview was released in 2007, long after we were already into Part 2 of the manga. This firstly debunks the idea that there was a secret budding love story that was sabotaged by SP, though you don't need any interview to tell you that Sasuke literally only thinking of Team 7 during Sakura's love confession, or Naruto not reflecting on any special moments with Hinata was proof enough of the lack of romance. More importantly, however, this is connected to my point about belief in "true love all along" was not a unifying factor in the SS/NH fandoms. Many of them were aware of this interview (see the respective examples of a SS fan and a NH fan reacting to it below) and thus spent their time taking solace in databooks and writing longwinded posts about how mutual romantic development weren't required for endgame.

What DID unite solo/multshipping SS in particular was the belief that Sasuke considered Sakura special, and thus, she would be the one who helped heal his heart. And this belief is where the real "war" between SS/SNS lied. If you look at old SNS posts, you'll see that there was never a unifying belief that SNS would be canon either, for obvious reasons. You'll notice that many posts were prefaced with some variation of "regardless of the nature of their bond...." because it wasn't so much what they were to each other rather than how significant they were to each other. You'll see a lot of posts about them transcending traditional relationship categories.

So this was the primary context in which SS and SNS fans argued. You can see below just some of the drivel that SS came up with. They have always been relentlessly insecure harassers who used to attack SNS fans for simply seeing the direction in which the manga would go.

They ignored Naruto making Sasuke's heart beat repeatedly, they ignored Naruto being tied to Sasuke's sharingan transformation — which later in the manga was explicitly called out for being the reflection of the heart that SNS fans postulated it was. They ignored the fact that Sakura was rendered fungible [a fact you can see reflected in the interview below when Kishimoto discusses what makes Team 7 special and completely evades mention of Sakura] and that Kishi usurped moments that could have been special for Sasuke and Sakura by including Naruto (eg. Sasuke bringing up not wanting Naruto to worry in the FOD, Sasuke thinking about Naruto to keep the curse mark at bay as well despite the fact that Sakura was the one who was explicitly worried about him, Sasuke including Naruto and talking about precious nakama in the fight against Gaara despite the fact that Sakura was the only one in mortal danger, etc.). They ignored the fact that Sasuke quite literally hierarchially ranked Naruto as a more intimate friend than Sakura. Harassed SNS fans for pointing out the basic setup in the manga that served to reinforce SNS fans' interpretations because they constructed a version of the manga that was wholly centered on the special and unique "bond" between Sakura/Sasuke.

All this lasted to the war arc. They twisted themselves in pretzels to argue about how Sasuke leaving Sakura to burn in lava and outright stating that her and Kakashi's lives didn't matter was him repressing his super secret feelings of care for her while attempting to downplay the mutual affection displayed in the SNS bond. Even the more "neutral" pro team 7 SS fans looked for ways to subtly denigrate SNS' bond. Sasuke makes no mentions of Sakura when the 10 tails is about to blow up the shinobi alliance? Who cares because at least Sakura's face doesn't have a cut across it (yes, they really did misinterpret pro SNS moments where Sasuke individuated Naruto as negative). And they did all this while making anti Sasunaru clubs and hiding in forums to complain about how SNS was getting too much focus in the manga (something older fans can attest to) because deep down many of them saw the writing on the wall.

Now SNS fans, on the other hand, displayed the critical reading skills that the SS fandom lacked — and I don't mean that facetiously. They picked up on the fact that it was significant that Sasuke lost control of himself when Naruto showed up. They understood the significance of Sasuke specifically asking about the status of the 9 tails given the prior context of Sasuke specifically needing to kill Naruto because he wanted to become stronger. They recognized that Naruto was specifically singled out with a cut precisely because he was special by picking up on the patterns peppered throughout the text. They also respected the Team 7 bonds established in Part 1 — they had no need to undermine it because there was a confidence in Naruto/Sasuke's relationship being special — while understanding the disadvantage in the fact that Sasuke and Sakura dynamic always included a "we" (see example from a 2008 analysis below). They knew there would be a reconciliation in which the tension between duty and desire would be resolved and would lead to Sasuke accepting his heart/inner child which would lead him to Naruto.

And lo and behold, 698 came and SNS fans were validated while SS fans were livid and angry. They complained and harassed SNS blogs and threw tantrums and cried about the manga being retconned. It's so easy for them to pretend they knew everything in hindsight, but the receipts don't lie. There has never been anyone more in denial about the core facts of the manga than SS/NH fans. Don't let them prevent you from supporting SNS. The SNS bond was validated.

Even to this day, they have never gotten over the fact that Sasuke confirmed their worst nightmares which is why they have to cope by literally cropping Naruto out of panels (Look at the 97 likes — and this is tame for them), spreading poor translations, and taking glee in the idea of Kishimoto not being the arbiter of canonicity, so they can take refuge in material not written by him, because they hate what he did write.

As I type this, they are getting made fun of in different languages and SS fans are coping by pretending that anyone who points out the dysfunction of their implied no kiss couple has has no literacy and is ignoring 700 chapters of development, the development in question being Sakura still acting infantile while Sasuke remains indifferent.

Why should you feel isolated because you want to support the main bond when SS fans even have to lie about the poorly written filler novels that were expressly created FOR them (eg. Sakura forcefully kissing Sasuke and then Sasuke immediately grabbing Naruto and leaving Sakura to fall off the motorcycle they were all riding on; A scene SS fans repeatedly lied about and repeatedly misrepresented).

Unfortunately I've nearly run out of images and I didn't even get to finish highlighting all of the lies of SS or discuss NH fans the way I wanted too but please, don't worry about the hate and the homophobia. A significant part of it is them lashing out because of insecurity.

Then and now, nothing has changed.

They hated the fact that Kishimoto wasn't concerned with Hinata's unrequited feelings and patiently waited for Sasuke to fade into oblivion so Naruto and Hinata could ride off into the sunset. When that didn't come, and Naruto prioritized Sasuke even after Hinata's confession, they took to harassing SNS fans. All they have is a retcon movie that Kishimoto wasn't even devoted to, which is why, in addition to lionizing scenes from the film, they even have to read panels incorrectly to achieve some satisfaction.

SNS is amazing and enough to keep me occupied, but another way of dealing with the hatred and homophobia (which is the main point of this post) is remembering why it's so rampant in the first place. The reason you feel gaslighted is because they are literally trying to rewrite history (these people have even lied about how much their novel sold and had to be corrected by a sale tracking account).

I haven't even scratched the surface, but you can see a few more examples here, here, here, and here. Giving in to their bullying is how the liars win. Don't let them!

[cherrychilli]

Slip of the Tongue

A mini series I 18+ I Enemies to lovers

Chapter one

Eddie Munson, AFAB reader, neighbor! reader.

Reader and Eddie are the same age - she's in College and he's repeating his senior year once again.

Chapter Summary: You discover that Eddie's been practicing a very interesting new trick on his guitar, one which he offers to use on you under the guise of giving you some much needed stress relief.

A/N: Listen, series scare the shit out of me but I'm trying to challenge myself with a tiny one. I kind of already feel like I'm biting off more than I can chew but I'm going to give it my best shot.

Inspired by those clips of Steve Vai and Jimi Hendrix. ifkyk.

Chapter warnings: Nothing explicit this chapter. Some suggestive stuff but the real smut begins next chapter, so if you want more you better let me know!

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

He's doing it again. Of course he's doing it again.

You tilt your head forward, forehead dropping into your hands. Heatedly, you mutter your annoyance under your breath, thumbs rubbing at throbbing temples and eyes squeezing shut when the music picks up to an ear ringing volume.

Eddie Munson took sick pleasure in riling you up – you were certain of that given how he only ever seemed to plug in his guitar when it was time for you to study your coursework, wrecking your concentration and making your temper skyrocket with a kind of ease only he was capable of.

For years, you’d taken issue with the fact that your trailer neighbored his own, your bedroom becoming an echo chamber for every blaring chord progression and heavily distorted guitar riff that strummed out from Eddie's open window.

And as always, you felt the need to make your displeasure known.

Abandoning your textbooks, you hastily shove your shoes on to stomp over next door. You knew from painful experience that it was best to head behind the Munson’s trailer and approach Eddie’s bedroom window than to pound on the front door, the sound of his playing almost always too loud for him to notice your knocking.

Trampling over the patchy, dry lawn that lay between your homes, you made your way across, rounding the corner and striding up to the open window, fuming with thoughts of what you’d yell at him this time when you caught sight of the metalhead.

As expected, he's rocking out in the center of his unruly bedroom. No doubt having tuned the rest of the world out, channeling so much of his wild, boundless energy into his playing.

His mop of dark messy curls aren't tied back today, allowed to sway, tumble and whip around his face as he played to an audience of some devilish looking posters and a couple figurines that stood on his crowded desk, probably a part of that fantasy game he's always going on about.

He's dressed in grey sweats that hang low around his hips and a ratty old band tee that tended to ride up, you couldn't help but notice.

‘At least he’s got clothes on today’, you thought to yourself mirthlessly, only a touch thankful for the silver lining of not having to confront him while he's shirtless or in his boxers again. Not that he’d ever minded you seeing him like that before.

Your last encounter with Eddie was one you hoped to soon forget, cringing because he'd caught your gaze wandering when you came over to reprimand him for the noise again, becoming noticeably distracted by his bare chest and the tattoos adorning it.

You don't know how it happened, only that you fell into a sort of daze when your eyes slipped lower to follow the slope of his pale tummy, leading to the sparse trail of dark hair which thickened below his belly button and disappeared underneath the waistband of his boxers.

D'you want a picture or something, darling?, he'd quipped, growing even more pleased with himself when your face turned hot and the embarrassment of getting caught had you stuttering out the first thing you could manage.

"F-fuck off, Munson", you spit back and retreated awkwardly, the sound of his barking laughter as you did so ringing in your ears long after you made it back into your room and hid underneath your blankets for a good hour.

Yeah, that was hard to live down. As was trying to expunge the image of Eddie's unclothed torso from your mind.

Most times he could anticipate your arrival, like a lightning storm only he could forecast but this time he hasn’t seemed to noticed you yet, tongue pinched between his lips in concentration while his fingers travelled skillfully over the ebony fretboard of his guitar.

Watching him play like that sometimes made you think that if he hadn't plagued you for half your life with all of his antics, you might have admitted that he was good musician - that he had talent most people didn't care to acknowledge and maybe even go so far as to say that you found it impressive that he’d managed teach himself how to play in lieu of any lessons.

But you weren’t about to sing Eddie Munson's praises. Not when he was seconds away from making you pop a vein.

Taking a deep breath in, you prepared yourself to start the unpleasant cycle of bickering with your neighbor once again, hoping against hope that, at the very least, it'll be a short exchange this time.

“Ed-"

You meant to catch his attention with a single shout but the heated call flattens on your tongue in an instant, heart beat kicking up as you watch what he does next.

He lifts his treasured Warlock and you're half afraid for him when he casually flips the front of the instrument towards his face, its angular design and jagged edges enough to worry you even when he played on it the regular way.

But it's when his tongue stretches out, long and slick like a serpent, that things start to feel...hazy. Speechlessly, you stare as he slides it along one of the guitar's six strings, following the length of it from near the bottom of the fretboard while his left hand continued to flit over the strings by the neck, creating harmonics in a way you’d never thought was possible before.

Are my palms sweating?

The sound begins to shift again and your eyes bulge when he slides his tongue back down, flicking and picking the guitar strings by the tip of it with more speed and dexterity than you'd thought was possible, his fingers continuing to move seamlessly to hold down every note.

Eyes closed (and there was no chance of you letting that happen) there was no way you could've told the difference than if he’d been playing with his fingers all along, the sound just as sharp and crisp as as every time before.

It's filthy, bordering on vulgar the way he’s moving the silky pink muscle so expertly, so much so that it makes you feel like you're intruding, peeping in on something that only happened behind closed doors.

But that gnawing feeling isn't anywhere near enough to make you stop looking. Your gaze stays planted firmly on Eddie's mouth, the sight making your head crowd with static and your belly swirl with heat. Your thighs had been clamped together too, you realize, a sickening realization dawning over you when they rub together, registering the dampness pooling between them underneath your skirt.

Oh my god…am I w-?

And just as abruptly as the realization had sunk in, the song ends. Deafening silence returns to your shared corner of the trailer park when Eddie sets the guitar back down to hang by the strap fixed over his shoulder, eyes flicking to you as if he'd known all along that you'd been standing there, gawking at him.

"So, what do you think? pretty good, right? been working on it for weeks", he pants out, chest rising and falling softly with each labored breath.

Somehow, this feels so much worse than when he caught you staring the last time.

With luck, you're able to shake yourself out of your trance like state, round eyes narrowing in preparation to berate him as originally intended

"Fucking hell, Eddie would you keep it down? I'm trying to study!", you agonize, scrambling to find your fury again.

But your tone doesn’t seem to bother him, it rarely ever did. So he leans through the open window, elbows resting on the window pane, eyeing you up and down all amused.

"You look stressed", he observes, and it's the flippant way in which he does it that ticks you off, with the kind of lopsided smile you’d often described as annoying. For the most part because he’d almost always done something to that effect before flashing you one.

"I am", you confirm with an acidic glare, hoping he couldn't tell how frazzled his little performance had left you.

"And you're not helping so knock it off"

Turning on your heel, you're desperate to retreat back to your place for a reprieve, heart hammering inside your chest when he calls out to you again.

"I could help you relax, y'know"

The way he says it makes you pause, like he's about to let you in on a secret.

Your skin prickles with goosebumps. "I'm not buying weed from you Eddie", you answer back over your shoulder, trying to look unimpressed as you attempt to turn him down.

"I wouldn't charge", the boy winks at you without missing a beat, undeterred by your cold attitude and you hate that his persistence makes your face feel hot.

"But that's not what I was going to suggest"

"Oh?"

You turn around to face him again, intrigue building.

He takes a moment to scan you thoughtfully, brows furrowing, almost as if he's weighing the outcomes of what might happen if he were to continue.

"You liked what you saw, right?", his brown eyes flicked down to his guitar and back up to you in quick reference to what you were hoping to avoid.

The mention of what you'd witnessed him doing with his tongue brings that hot, sticky feeling sitting at the base of your stomach back in full force, alarm bells ringing in your head.

"What does that have to do with anything?", you ask cautiously, realizing a second too late that you’ve only confirmed his suspicion.

"Well..."

Eddie curls a finger up at you, rings glinting in the sunlight, beckoning you closer and for some reason you actually oblige, stepping up to his window until you’re only a foot apart from one another.

Low and throaty, he whispers to you. "I can do a lot more with my tongue than just shred on my guitar", flicking the muscle salaciously between his lips like a viper ready to strike.

It should revolt you, watching the crude gesture courtesy of the bane next door, the implication behind it enough to make your skin crawl.

So why doesn't it?

Why does it make you want to leap at him and close the distance between the two of you, hungry to feel his tongue against your own?

"You're disgusting", you tell him instead in an attempt to deflect, voice wavering through the lie.

But he's too astute to be fooled now. "And you like it", he counters easily.

"So are you going to cut the bullshit and climb in here or what?"

You stare at the hand he holds out to you and before you can think to just walk away, before you can pull yourself together and stifle the roaring fire inside lapping at your bones, your fingers have found their way to his.

[baelarys]

Thérèse pt2

Aemond targaryen X Reader velaryon

Word count: 1644

Warning : anguts,Mention of suicide.

Author's note: I would appreciate it if you read this with the song la nave del olvido by José José

Thérèse pt1

The young lady entered the princess's room, the light curtains blocking the morning sun as she set down the new tray of food and removed the old one.

The room was quiet, although that was nothing unusual; hers lady must have been asleep, or perhaps she was already awake and her deep cloak of sadness had not allowed her to get out of bed.

With quiet, sure steps, he adjusted the curtains to allow a little more light to come in, hoping that the soft glow could offer some comfort to the princess. Then he approached the bed with a bow, watching to see if his mistress showed any signs of being awake.

"Good morning, my lady," she murmured respectfully. "I brought your breakfast. Is there anything else I can do for you this morning?"

SHe didn't hear any response, so she decided to move the curtains that provided more privacy to the bed. What she saw left her cold: The princess, whom she had known since she was a child, was lying in her bed without any sign of life. Her delicate face, as pale as snow, contrasted painfully with the plump cheeks that had always been a beautiful red.

The lady felt a lump in her throat as she tried to process what she saw. She approached slowly, desperately hoping to find some sign of breathing, some hint of life. But there was nothing. The princess, in her deep sadness, had finally succumbed.

With silent tears beginning to stream down her face, the young lady leaned down and took her mistress's hand, finding it cold to the touch. The dried blood soaked into the white sheets was silent testimony to the desperation and suffering the princess had endured.

Gathering what little courage she had left, the lady stood up and headed for the door. She knew that he should notify the others, but at that moment, her heart was overwhelmed with pain. With one last glance at the princess, the young lady left the room, ready to bring the sad news to those who needed to know.

"What?" said Queen Alicent, unable to believe what had happened.

"She... she is dead," the young lady repeated with a trembling voice, her gaze fixed on the stone floor.

"how? Gods, this can't be!" The queen's voice cracked as she sank into her chair, unable to process the magnitude of the tragedy.

The room fell silent, broken only by the echo of the young lady's shaky breathing and the queen's suppressed sob. Alicent, slightly recovering from the initial shock, struggled to her feet, her face reflecting a mixture of disbelief and pain.

"We must inform the king," She said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "And organize the preparations. Let the Masters examine the body and let the Septon pray for her soul."

The young lady nodded, wiping the tears from her face. The heavy responsibility of the news she carried did not allow him to falter. With firm steps, he headed towards the king's chamber, knowing that that day would mark a deep wound in the heart of the kingdom.

Alicent, still in shock, wiped away the few tears that escaped from her eyes. A grim thought crossed his mind: how would he tell Aemond? He was already dealing with the loss of his daughter, and now he would also have to deal with the death of his young wife.

With a deep sigh, she headed towards his son's chamber. The corridor seemed endless, each step carrying the weight of the news she had to share. Upon arriving, she found Aemond sitting in an armchair, absorbed in his thoughts.

“Aemond,” she said softly, his voice shaking, “I need to talk to you.”

He looked up, immediately noticing the gravity on his mother's countenance. Alicent knelt next to him, holding his hand tightly.

"It's... it's your wife. She... has passed away. I'm so sorry, my son."

Aemond froze, his face showing a mix of disbelief and pain before reality hit him. A heartbreaking sob escaped her lips as she leaned forward, holding her mother's hand tightly.

––––––––––

Queen Rhaenyra entered the council chamber, her commanding presence silencing any murmurs. With one graceful movement, he sat down in his chair.

“We can begin,” she said firmly, her eyes sweeping over each of the councilors present.

The room remained silent. The members of her council exchanged uneasy glances, none willing to be the first to break the tragic news. Rhaenyra watched them expectantly, sensing the tension in the air.

Finally, the Grand Master cleared his throat and stepped forward, bowing his head slightly in respect.

“My queen, I bring news from King's Landing,” he began, his voice trembling slightly. “This morning, the young princess was found... lifeless.”

A whisper of dismay ran through the room. Rhaenyra remained silent for a moment, taking in the information. His expression was a mask of control, although shock was evident in his eyes.

“Y/N...?” she asked weakly “How…? She is dead? No, it can not be. My daughter had no enemies; The people loved her.”

Rhaenyra gave a nervous laugh, hoping that her child's death was a mistake, but she received no answer. The room remained in a tense silence.

“How?” she finally asked, tears held back in her eyes.

"From what it seems, the princess herself ended her life, or someone else did," the maester reported. "There are rumors that you yourself gave the order to end her."

Rhaenyra looked at everyone, bewildered.

"I!? Order the death of my own daughter?!” she shouted, “I'm dealing with the loss of a child and now the loss of my baby and my granddaughter.”

The room remained silent, all eyes avoiding her. Rhaenyra turned to Daemon, seeking some support, but his face seemed unchanged, almost indifferent to the tragedy.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, trying to regain control.

"You ordered that?!" Rhaenyra asked angrily once the council had left.

Daemon was sitting, looking at his hands.

"It was an accident," he said, trying to defend himself.

"An accident? How could that be an accident?" Rhaenyra approached her husband, anger and desperation in her eyes. "It is a disgusting and horrible act committed in my name, Daemon."

"You said you wanted Aemond." His voice did not show any regret.

"I said I wanted Aemond," Rhaenyra claimed, "I didn't say I wanted you to kill innocent children and women."

"It was an accident," Daemon repeated, this time with annoyance.

"It does not matter!" The queen cried, her voice cracking with anguish. "Your recklessness has cost me a daughter and a granddaughter."

The room fell silent. Rhaenyra fell into one of the armchairs as tears ran down her face.

"My sweet girl... she is dead now," she lamented, sobbing hard.

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the sadness and despair of a mother who had lost her daughter. Rhaenyra, lost in her grief, barely noticed when Daemon stood up and approached her. He looked at her, his own eyes shining with a mixture of remorse and suppressed fury.

"Rhaenyra, I'm sorry..." he began, but his voice broke. The words that followed seemed empty given the magnitude of the tragedy.

"No," she answered, her voice barely above a whisper. "You can't understand what you've done. You have destroyed everything I loved. My daughter, my granddaughter…” she sobbed, her body shaking with the intensity of her pain. "I will never forgive you, Daemon. Never."

Daemon helplessly watched her fall apart. He knew there was nothing he could say or do to repair the damage done. The queen, broken inside, hugged herself, her sobs echoing in the empty room, a sad melody that marked the end of a hope and the beginning of a mourning that would never end.

The air in the room became thick, as if the castle itself was mourning the loss of its princess. The night, dark and silent, loomed over them, wrapping them in a blanket of infinite sadness. Rhaenyra, lost in her grief, curled up on the couch, her tears falling steadily as the reality of her loss settled deep in her heart.

Daemon, unable to bear the sight of his broken wife, slowly withdrew, leaving Rhaenyra in her pain, knowing that nothing could redeem him in her eyes. The queen, now alone, mourned the loss of her daughter, two innocent souls torn from her life by an act of incomprehensible brutality.

The echo of her sobs filled the room, echoing in every corner, a sad symphony of love and loss that would remain on the castle walls forever.

“Princess Y/N Velaryon was born in the year 113 A.C., the second daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and her husband, Ser Laenor Velaryon, whose paternity was questioned by the court.

From her childhood and throughout her youth, she was a happy and beautiful girl, loved by the entire kingdom, who nicknamed her "The Jewel of the Kingdom." At the age of 16, the princess married her uncle, Prince Aemond Targaryen.

From this union a daughter was born, Alysa, who unfortunately died while she was still a baby. Princess Y/N Velaryon was a rider of the dragon Dawnlight, a majestic silver dragon.

To this day, it has not been clarified whether the princess's tragic end was caused by her stepfather or if it was the loss of her daughter that led to her own death. Her memory, however, remains alive in the heart of the kingdom, which still remembers her with affection and reverence.”

—True account of Archmaester Gyldayn of the Citadel of Antigua

[hello-from-nrc-infirmary]

Vern's Hometown: Centennial Celebration

Book 1: A Founding Fiasco

Chapter 1: A Tiny Dilemma

"Oh! And umm... anyone who needs their refill while I'm gone-"

"-has to present their student ID and we check the chart... We know! Just go," Pam snaps as they tap their roots on the desk.

Vern nods, more to himself than the plants, "o-okay.... umm... r-right. Okay. Call if you ummm... need anything!"

The crocuses start prodding him to move towards the door. All of them start talking slightly over each other, "don't worry! Bennet is coming in to help!!!!"

He hesitantly lets them push him out while trying to not step on any of their thin roots. Not even a moment after the little flowers shove him into the hall, the infirmary door slamming shut echoes off the stone walls. He blinks, adjusting his satchel before starting off towards the mirror hall. Each footstep disturbs the silence of the school.

It was too early to leave, and yet... his amber gaze drops to the basket in his grip. The lavender cloth covering it slightly rustles as he walks. He hadn't found someone to watch his bunnies. The centennial will keep him busy and his stomach twists at the thought of not having enough time for them. He considers asking one of Uncle's... no, they would also be busy.

As he arrives at the mirror chamber, Koa lifts his head from where he's laying. Vern let the elk out of the stables earlier. His familiar had sent him out of the room several times in the past few hours. The elk's ear twitches, watching Vern carefully as he stares at the mirrors.

"Patience... you-"

"-I know," he sighs, grip tightening as he turns to Koa, "I'm umm... my stomach is all um... knotted a-and ummm... my hands are umm... shaky, too..."

"That is your nerves and anxiety. He will-"

"-and if he doesn't? What if no one-"

"-Vern," Koa stands, taking a few strides towards him. The elk bends its head down to press against Vern's forehead, "everything will be alright."

Chapter 2: The Sleepiest Solution

“Hey~“

Vern jumps a little at the familiar voice. Smiling as he turns, he takes care to not jostle the basket of bunnies too much. His nerves are somewhat eased to see Steel finally join him. Part of him wanted to ask about the lack of any visible blot, but the memory of Pam’s scathing remarks tie his tongue.

“G-good morning, I’m umm… thank you, again for um…” he pauses, noticing Nightshade attempting to nose his way out of the basket. Vern frowns a little as he carefully tries to nudge the rabbit’s head back under the blanket.

“Eh, no problem..” he earns a shrug and a raised brow, “you brought the bunnies?”

Vern lifts the basket higher to let Steel pet Nightshade, “I umm… couldn’t find someone to um… watch them…”

“Hm...” a playful grin slowly crosses Steel’s features, “I know someone~”

He looks up at him, “r-really? Are you umm…. sure they won’t mind?”

“Sure...” Steel only winks “it’ll be fun~”

“O-okay…” Vern fidgets slightly, but quickly follows him. He’s hesitates before stepping through the Diasomnia mirror. The ever-looming storm causes his nerves to spike as lightning flashes. Walking faster, he does his best to stay close to Steel while his amber gaze continuously darts to the sky. His muscles lose some tension as they enter the dorm. Every window they pass, he unconsciously checks the sky. Vern briefly draws Steel’s attention as he accidentally bumps into his arm.

“… right. I can take them for you, if you want,” he offers, his voice a bit softer than normal.

Vern stiffens at a distant rumble of thunder, “I-I would umm… rather um… s-stay…”

“… alright..”

They eventually reach a familiar door, giving Vern pause as Steel steps into the dorm. Despite his initial hesitation, he follows and looks around. It’s probably a good thing that Silver has not woken up, or perhaps it’s the opposite?

“You can set them over there.”

Nodding, Vern places the basket in the corner. Smiling to himself, he whispers a small farewell as he casts for some vines to create a nice enclosure for them.

“A-and you’re umm… sure he won’t mind?”

Shrugging, Steel leads Vern back into the hall, “animals like him, no worries~”

Vern nods as they head back towards the mirror chamber. He barely notices Steel quickly sending a text and quietly hopes he tells Silver about the bunnies.

Chapter 3: A Land Called Paradise

Vern looks around as they return to the mirror chamber. Koa seems to have stretched his legs a bit while waiting. The elk's ear twitches as the pair returns, aware of more footsteps heading towards the chamber.

"You found a suitable place for the small ones?"

Vern glances at Steel, a bit of humor lighting his own eyes after a moment, "I ummm... think so, yeah..."

"Good," Koa nods, "it's almost time for the others to be arriving..."

Book 1: [1] [2] [3]

Book 2: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5A] [5B] [6] [7]

Book 3: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

[malfoyswand]

𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬

pairing: draco malfoy x reader

summary: your best friend, draco malfoy, plans a surprise to ask you to the yule ball.

word count: 1.8k

genre: fluff

warnings: none, just soft draco :)

author's note: thank you to the lovely reader who requested this, it's my first request so i really hope i did this justice! also yes, i got a little inspired by that one gilmore girls episode with the 1000 flowers for the proposal lol

➪ masterlist | requests

"Mate, I think you're overthinking this."

Blaise Zabini reported his opinion of the matter, but Draco Malfoy barely comprehended a word he had spoken. The only things on his mind were (Y/N) and of course, the bloody Yule Ball.

If he was honest with himself, Draco was at least partially excited for the dance. He knew it was meant to be one of the greatest nights he may ever experience while at Hogwarts, but he wasn't sure if he would. The dance was only a week away and somehow, Draco found himself without a date.

If anything, the Yule Ball was making him nervous.

"I'm not, Zabini!" He spoke quite loudly, then softened his voice as he realized students had looked their way. "This needs to be perfect, alright? This is (Y/N) we're talking about, you know how I feel about her."

Blaise couldn't help but sigh, with a smile on his lips as the two of them walked to their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. It was quite a feat for Malfoy to tell Blaise that he had romantic feelings for his best friend, (Y/N). Blaise knew that Draco dreaded being seen as anything but tough to the world, the fact that a girl had this much control over his emotions spoke volumes. 

"Exactly my point, Malfoy. She's been your best friend since first year, I doubt she would ever be disappointed or angry with whatever you come up with. Besides, she's just a girl. Just ask her to the ball like how you would ask a girl out on a date."

"Er.. well.." Draco began to speak, the hand that wasn't holding his books scratching the back of his neck. The two of them finally stopped walking besides the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Blaise's eyes widening as he tried to hide his laughter.

"You're telling me that Draco Malfoy has never been on a date before? Merlin!" His laughter echoed down the chamber, earning him a scoff and a playful shove inside the classroom by Draco. "Sorry, sorry. I just thought that with every other girl in this school begging to be your date to the dance, you would've taken at least one of them on a date." His voice was spoken quietly, careful that the other students wouldn't hear their conversation.

Draco shook his head as the two of them sat down in their seats, pulling out their books and parchment. "No. I've turned them all down. They're just not her, know what I mean?"

"You're down bad, mate." Blaise smirked slightly to himself, whispering the only advice he could really offer his friend. "Listen, girls like being asked out in a personal way. You know the kind of things (Y/N) likes, all you have to do is make it special and she'll be swooning."

"Right." Draco mumbled to himself as Professor Moody began to teach his lesson. However, he certainly wasn't thinking about Defense Against the Dark Arts. Instead, Draco glanced over to where you sat across the room. He knew you better than anyone, yet he had no idea how to ask you to the Yule Ball.

That was when the idea struck him. The new bag you bought last week caught his eyes, he noticed the way the bag had intricate floral designs sewn into it. A memory replayed in Draco's mind. He couldn't help but smile to himself as he wrote on a spare piece of parchment, folding it into a paper crane before sending it your way.

Your hands caught the paper crane, grinning as you knew exactly who it was from. You tried to ignore the way your heart seemed to skip a beat each time you saw one fly towards you. On the piece of parchment, it read:

Meet me at the Astronomy Tower tomorrow morning before breakfast? - D.M.

You lifted his gaze to meet his awaiting gray eyes, your head nodding before turning back to the professor's lesson. Draco did the same, but his mind was already running through a mental checklist on all the supplies he had to get to make his idea come to life.

The next morning, you woke up wondering why in Godric's name you decided to meet up with Draco this early in the morning. The sun was just starting to rise outside the window, and none of your other roommates were even awake. You groaned as quietly as you could, practically tiptoeing around the dorm bedroom to avoid waking everyone else.

As you brushed your hair in the girls' lavatory, you felt the butterflies in your stomach begin to flutter around again. You cursed yourself under your breath as you tried your best to focus on your breathing.

Lately, being near Draco Malfoy has always made you more excited than you really ought to be. Of course, he was your best friend so you had always been excited. But now, even one glance at him caused a warmth to glow within your chest. The feeling was a foreign one.

As you walked through the castle towards the Astronomy Tower, that warm feeling in your chest arose again as you caught sight of him. He was pacing near the entrance door, mumbling as if he was rehearsing something. You cleared your throat as you walked towards him, Draco stopping in his tracks.

"(Y/N)." He spoke your name, his lips forming into a soft smile. "Thanks for meeting up with me, I know it's a bit early for you." His tone was playful, he knew you were not much of a morning person. 

"About that, why so early in the morning, Malfoy?" You gently shoved his shoulder, he only laughed in response. He opened the Astronomy Tower door entrance, his hand indicating for you to step inside first. 

"You will see."

You walked up the long set of stairs up the tower. You couldn't see the fact that Draco was a nervous wreck behind you, his hands having to wipe themselves on his slacks to remove the sweat from his palms. As much as you hated to wake up this early in the morning, you knew the views up from the tower would be gorgeous. Draco knew that the Astronomy Tower was, quite honestly, your favorite place to admire the landscape.

“Oh my..” Your body stopped in its tracks once the two of you reached the highest level of the tower. Your eyes couldn’t take in your surroundings fast enough it seemed.

It was as if every surface of the tower was covered in red roses. Somehow, someone must have placed hundreds of roses in vases, scattering them around almost every corner of the room. The light shining into the tower only amplified their beauty, it was as if each petal seemed to come alive as the sun continued to rise.

“D-Did you know these flowers were here?” You stuttered as you started to pace around the room slowly, your fingertips grazing upon almost every petal there was. Their beauty took your breath away.

“I did.” Draco bit his bottom slightly as he watched you, desperate to know your reaction. He couldn’t tell if you liked or hated them. “They’re for you, actually.”

Your eyes darted from the roses you were admiring to Draco, your body facing his. Although you were truly flattered, the idea of him doing all of this for you made your head spin with so many questions. You knew Draco Malfoy better than he may ever know himself, you had never seen him do anything this nice or extravagant for anyone before. 

“You said a couple of weeks ago that you wish spring would come along so you can watch the flowers bloom again. Of course, it’s only December, as we can all see.” Draco answered your question, a slight chuckle falling from his lips as he pointed outside of the tower. More snowflakes began to fall, covering the castle with even more snow.

“So, I thought to bring the flowers to you. And I only assumed you liked roses, from your bag.” His eyes went from watching the snowflakes outside to your bag that was decorated with tiny red roses around it. Since when did Draco notice something so mundane, like a new tote bag?

“I just.. don’t know what to say.” Your voice came out as a whisper. Him decorating the entire Astronomy Tower with roses, just because you said you missed the spring and summer flowers, was entirely insane. You couldn’t come up with the words, so all you could do was step forward to hug him tightly.

Within an instant, you felt Draco’s arms wrap around your waist, his head resting in the crook of your neck. He closed his eyes, smiling softly to himself out of relief and joy. He was relieved and happy that you had liked the surprise, but he knew what he must do, even though it terrified him.

“That’s not the end of the surprise.” He said as he slowly pulled away from the hug. All of a sudden, it was as the boy became aware of every heightened emotion he was feeling. “But I must do this properly..”

Your eyebrows raised as you watched him turn around, picking up one of the red roses from their vases. If you weren’t convinced you were dreaming at the moment, you would have sworn you saw a small bit of sweat on Draco’s forehead as he looked towards you.

“I-er..” He took a step forward towards you, any closer and your bodies would have made contact. With a deep breath to calm himself, he handed the rose to you. “Would you want to go to the Yule Ball with me, as more than just a friend?”

Your lips slightly parted as you took the rose from him. You had slowly been falling for your best friend for the past four years, but you had convinced yourself that the Slytherin Prince would never fall for you. For four years, you had thought that he would never settle for you, when every other girl in this school begged for him just to look their way.

Once you realized you had failed to give an answer, you closed your mouth and smiled in his direction. “I would love to, Draco.” You responded, stepping forward once more to close the gap between you two. You pressed your lips softly to his cheek.

When you pulled away, you realized that Draco’s cheeks were slightly pink as his eyes widened. You couldn’t help but laugh slightly at the sight. Draco Malfoy was notorious for being the calm, collected one of the two of you. Seeing him as, essentially, a nervous wreck over you caused that warmth to be felt in your chest again.

“Who would have thought I could make Draco Malfoy this nervous?” You joked, attempting to calm his apparent nerves.

“Who said I was nervous?” He scoffed just as playfully, grabbing a few more roses to hand to you. You took them in your hands, smelling their pleasant aroma as you followed him back down the staircase.

“Malfoy, you were just as red as these roses.”

[acourtofquietdreamers]

If you can’t see the difference between this:

I dreamed of Lord Graysen-so mortal and young-standing at the edge of the camp, beckoning to Elain. Telling her he'd come for her. To come home with him. That he'd found a way to undo what had been done to her-to make her human again.

But Azriel asked softly, "What about Elain?" Something cold went through me. Nesta was just staring at Azriel. Staring and staring.

Nesta was already moving, sprinting for where we'd heard that voice. Luring Elain out. I knew how it had done it. I'd dreamed of it. Graysen standing on the edge of camp, calling to her, promising her love and healing.

From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, "I'm getting her back." Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel's hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, "Then you will die." Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, "I'm getting her back."

My mouth went dry as that scream sounded again. I couldn't bear it - to let it go on, to see what was being done - Azriel's shadow-hand grasped my own, tugging me closer. His rage rippled off his invisible form.

Azriel slid back the curtain—Elain was in her nightgown. Gagged, wrists wrapped in steel that glowed violet. Her eyes went wide as she saw us—Azriel and me— I shifted my face back into my own, raising a hand to my lips as Azriel knelt before her. I kept up my litany of praying, beseeching the Cauldron to make my womb fruitful, on and on—Azriel gently removed the gag from her mouth. "Are you hurt?" She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. "You came for me." The shadowsinger only inclined his head.

The screaming and shouting began. Azriel scooped up Elain, looping her bound arms around his neck. "Hold tight," he ordered her, "and don't make a sound."

"Grab onto him!" Elain ordered the wide-eyed human girl as Azriel thundered toward her. The girl looked like a doe about to be run down by a wolf. The girl did not open her arms as they neared. Elain screamed at her, "If you want to live, do it now!" The girl dropped her cloak, opened her arms wide. Her black hair streamed behind Azriel, catching amongst his wings as he practically tackled her into the sky. But I saw, even as I ran, Elain's pale hands lurch-gripping the girl by her neck, holding her as tightly as she could. And just in time.

Azriel's roar echoed off the rocks as the hound slammed into him, dragging those shredding talons down his spine, his wings— The girl screamed, but Elain moved. As Azriel battled to keep them airborne, keep his grip on them, my sister sent a fierce kick into the beast's face. Its eye. Another. Another. It bellowed, and Elain slammed her bare, muddy foot into its face again. The blow struck home.

Azriel's power gave out on the outskirts of our camp. The girl, despite the burns and lashings on her moon-white skin, was able to walk. The gray light of morning had broken over the world, mist clinging to our ankles as we headed into that camp, Azriel still cradling Elain to his chest. He dripped blood behind him the entire time a trickle compared to the torrent that should be leaking out. Contained only by the patches of power he'd slapped on it. Help—he needed a healer immediately.

She let out a sob at the sight of Elain, still in Azriel's arms. I'd never heard a sound like that from her. Not once. She isn't hurt, I said to her, into that chamber in her mind.

Rhys lunged for Azriel, taking Elain from him and gently setting my sister down. Azriel rasped, swaying on his feet, "We need Helion to get these chains off her." Yet Elain didn't seem to notice them as she rose up on her toes and kissed the shadowsinger's cheek. And then walked to me and Nesta, who pulled back long enough to survey Elain's clean face, her clear eyes.

And this (Trigger Warning: SA mentioned):

I truly don’t know what to tell you, but I’ll try anyways.

One is a romantically coded rescue scene with many parallels to other SJM couples. See here, here, here, here, here, and here. Az’s rage once he realizes Elain is in trouble, rescuing her even if it means he could die, “you came for me”, “devouring the sight of him”, Az doesn’t put her down even though he’s gravely hurt and Elain is uninjured, ends with a kiss on the cheek. This scene also shows Elain and Az working together beautifully to save Briar and get rid of the hounds. Elain ends the scene with clear eyes.

The other is a woman retelling the most traumatic day of her life. It’s a heartbreaking story and it seriously concerns me if you read that story and your take away is “Az rescued Gwyn! He slaughtered them all and covered her with his cloak!! Soo romantic, they must be mates!” ANYONE in the IC would’ve reacted this way in the face of such a horrific scene.

And this behavior comes from people who claim to love Gwyn, yet make the most traumatic moment of her life about a man. It’s icky.

These two scenes are not comparable. Elriels using “Hold tight and don’t make a sound” as a NSFW prompt (when the same verbiage has been used during spicy scenes in SJM books) is not the same as people romanticizing Gwyn’s trauma and changing her story so Azriel is the one that carried her out. Just stop.

[helluva-bored-critical]

There's been an uptick in fandom/critical fighting, I've noticed.

Whether you're a fan or a critic, this is a reminder that Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel are shows, at the end of the day, and you're all humans on the other side of our screens. Fightin' each other through passive aggressive takes, callin' each other names, and not respecting each other in the slightest ain't productive.

That critic or fan you see; maybe they've got a really bad take or a take you don't agree with. First, take a moment to not get angry at them. Have a respectful discussion with 'em, offer your point of view, and---most importantly---don't be a jackass.

"What if they were a jackass first?" Friend, don't fight fire with fire. If they keep bein' a jackass, you can block 'em, turn off your device, not reply, calm yourself down, and get back to living. Too many times I've witnessed or been a part of a warzone of a comment. And the jackass who keeps bein' a jackass; take a step back, question why you're being hostile, and continue the discussion respectfully. If you can't, then get back to living as well.

This goes out to the antis and the stans, too:

Antis, I get y'all don't enjoy either the show or Vivziepop, but there's tons of things in life to find joy in. Hate is fun and easy, but I promise it ain't good. Your head'll ache and you'll wear yourself down with hate. Start by questioning why you hate.

Stans, I get y'all love the shows or Vivziepop beyond fans, but it's always possible to love or hate too much. Love can turn to obsession, it'll eat you up, and rose tinted glasses will blind you of the red sirens of criticism. Start by questioning why you obsess.

Both stans and antis, let yourself get exposed to fair criticisms and good-hearted enjoyment, respectively. Different perspectives are healthy to get exposed to---it's why I'm first encouraging respectful discussion instead of "don't like; don't engage". That sorta mentality leads to echo chambers, and you won't grow your mindset. Y'all are extremes of the opposite ends. Extremism ain't ever good.

--------------------

I know this fandom causes a lot of division. It can get real toxic when unchecked. So y'all gotta remember to chill when needed. Critics ain't bad, and neither are fans. Some people have takes you don't like, and that's okay. Discuss 'em respectfully, don't resort to bein' a jackass, and remember that we all are people on the other side of our screens.

Have a good day, y'all.

[angelremnants]

A TALES OF.. l Strength, Wits and a Hammer

OR.. In a round of surprise and an overwhelming setting, you show that you can wield Mjolnir with no problem.

pairings : Thor Odinson & f!reader, Loki Laufeyson & f!reader

warnings : Humor, banter, strong language.

word count : 1.5k

author's notes : I know, I know: I'm in grinding mode. What can I say, inspiration certainly comes at the worst moments possible.

Enjoy this little ficlet, and do not hesitate to give me feedback—it makes me the happiest to know what you think about what I wrote so far.

(ao3 version)

You stood in the Vault of Æsir’s Insight, a massive underground chamber carved from blackstone. Veins of golden energy snaked along its walls, illuminating the cavern in an eerie glow. At the center of the room stood a monolithic structure, ancient yet alive with pulsating runes. Floating around it were luminous shards of unknown material, seemingly suspended by magnetic forces. The air vibrated faintly, resonating like the hum of distant thunder. Above you, a celestial map projected the Yggdrasil, with glowing points marking each Realm.

“By Odin’s beard…” Thor whispered, his voice echoing in awe.

Loki stepped forward, his sharp eyes scanning the mechanism. The structure’s design suggested a puzzle: three distinct pathways of glowing energy flowed from the central node toward locked gates. “A relic of the Old Æsir, perhaps? These pathways… they need to be aligned to activate the mechanism.”

As he spoke, a disembodied voice interrupted: Mimir, the all-knowing head tied to Thor’s belt, groaned into awareness. “Oh, what’ve you dragged me into this time? That’s the Conduit of Knowledge, a nexus for energy between Realms. Only the smartest and strongest have ever activated it. Shame you’re all idiots.”

Thor frowned as he approached the mechanism and confidently scrutinized the setup, tapping Mjolnir against his palm. “We’ve got two levers here—surely we just pull them at the same time to force the thing open?”

Mimir snorted. “Brilliant plan, laddie. Except for the part where doing that could destabilize the energy field and turn us all into stardust.”

Loki smirked. “So brute force is off the table? What a surprise.”

Thor growled. “And your clever schemes won’t help much either if you start poking at things without thinking.”

“If you’d care to think for once, brother,” Loki interrupted, crossing his arms. “You’d see that by doing so the conduits would short-circuit. Did you even notice the fragile stabilizers? They’re practically screaming, ‘don’t yank the levers’! That is but the basic understanding of the Æsir’s science—”

Thor groaned. “Science? What do you know about science? Don't think your dabbling in illusions makes you knowledgeable—”

Loki rolled his eyes. “By all means, smash things with your glorified club if it makes you feel clever.” He interrupted, waving a hand dismissively.

“Oh, I’ll make use of my glorified club, all right. Right up in your—”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Are you two always like this?”

Mimir, swinging lazily from Thor’s belt, chimed in, “Aye, lass. Ever since Loki figured out which end of a book to read and Thor decided his hammer could solve everything.”

You sat cross-legged near the mechanism, massaging your temple as the brothers continued their increasingly heated argument. The fluctuating energy in the room had grated against your senses since you had entered, causing an incessant throb in your head.

“This headache is going to kill me,” you muttered, leaning forward. The mechanism’s pulses seemed to align with the pounding in your skull, which only made your temper shorter by the second.

Mimir, still hanging from Thor’s belt, joined the fray. “Ah, lads, the lass is lookin’ ready to throttle the both of you. Perhaps settle on a plan quickly?”

“Not until he listens,” Thor retorted, pointing Mjolnir at Loki.

Loki scoffed. “Listening to you is the very thing I avoid. All of your solutions consist of using your brawns and praying to the Norns in your favor—”

You stepped closer to the glowing conduits, ignoring the brothers’ escalating argument. Your attention zeroed in on the streams of energy flowing through the air—patterns reminiscent of electromagnetic waves. The air crackled with energy, a strange tingling sensation dancing across your skin.

“These aren’t just conduits,” you muttered. “They’re circuits. And they’re incomplete. The energy flow looks like… an alternating current?”

Mimir perked up. “Well done, lass! The levers aren’t the solution. Those streams are a bit like circuits—they need to harmonize their frequencies before the gate opens. But it’ll require a powerful catalyst to complete the alignment.”

You glanced back at the brothers, but they were still fervently bickering behind you, engaging in their ridiculous ego-measuring contest and completely oblivious to your find. Your eyes shifted to the hammer hanging loosely at his side, and a spark of inspiration struck.

“Enough!” you shouted, leaping to your feet. Your headache spiked, sending a sharp pain through your skull that made you wince. With a long sigh, you walked over and stepped between them, plucking Mjolnir from Thor’s hand—ignoring his startled exclamation—and examined the weapon. The cold metal felt surprisingly comforting in your grasp. “This should do it,” you murmured to yourself.

“What are you—” Thor began, bewildered. Loki stopped mid-sentence, his jaw dropping slightly.

You waved the hammer in front of Thor’s face. “I am done with you two arguing like toddlers over a toy. I’m solving this now.”

Thor blinked, dumbfounded. “You—you just… What?”

Ignoring him, you closed your eyes and focused. The headache’s throbbing synced with the mechanism’s pulses. With a deep breath, you summoned your ability, light flickering across your fingertips. You felt the flow of electromagnetic energy in the air, a surge of power coursing through you. You channeled it into your palms, concentrating your auroral power into its core. You wrapped your other hand around Mjolnir’s handle and let your power flow into the hammer, merging with its thunderous charge. The runes on the weapon glowed brighter, surging with both electricity and magnetic pulses.

The hammer’s runes glowed brighter as energy coalesced around it. You spun around and hurled Mjolnir at the central shard. It struck a magnetic conduit, sending a ripple of synchronized energy through the air. The conduits flashed, aligning perfectly. The entire mechanism hummed to life. Its central node spun, beams of light illuminating a previously hidden door.

Mimir gasped. “Oh, now that’s clever. Infusing your aurora with Thor’s thunder—two forces complementin’ each other. Brilliant, lass! Makes these two look even more like glorified toddlers.”

Mjolnir returned like a boomerang to your hand, where it hummed softly, crackling with residual energy. As the door groaned fully open, you turned and tossed the weapon back to Thor, who caught it in stunned silence, his jaw slack.

“Here’s your toy back,” you said sharply, your headache still simmering. Without missing a beat, you reached for Mimir, yanking him off Thor’s belt. “And I’m taking this. You clearly don’t need more distractions.”

“Hey! That’s—!” Thor spluttered, pointing helplessly at the empty spot where Mimir once hung.

You strode toward the now-open door but paused when you realized neither of the brothers was following. Turning, you found both staring at you, mouths slightly agape.

“What now?” you asked exasperated, raising an eyebrow.

Thor’s voice was barely a whisper. “You… wielded Mjolnir.”

Mimir, tucked under your arm, piped up cheerfully. “Aye, lad. And you did it without makin’ a fuss about bein’ ‘worthy’ or swingin’ it around like a child with a toy.”

You gave them both an impatient look. “I’m the supposed Guardian of Yggdrasil. Electromagnetism, lightning, the whole cosmic gig—come on, did you really not think of this outcome? Honestly, Thor, your bar for surprises is embarrassingly low, even for you.”

Loki’s lips twitched with a hint of amusement. “She makes a fair point, brother. Perhaps we should rethink who’s the real hero here.”

Thor opened his mouth, closed it, then finally said, “But—”

“But nothing,” you interrupted, heading toward the door. “Now, are you two coming, or do I need to hold your hands too?”

Mimir, swinging cheerfully under your arm, added, “Don’t worry, lass. Holdin’ their hands won’t help. They’re a lost cause.”

Loki choked on a laugh, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Remind me to never argue with her when she's annoyed.”

Thor huffed. “I’m still processing.”

Mimir chimed in smugly, “Oh, lad, you’ll be processing for a long while. You’ve got a knack for keepin’ you off balance.”

You sent them a smirk over your shoulder. “Glad you’re finally catching on.”

And with that, you led the way through the newly opened door, leading the trio through the doorway into a chamber even more dazzling than the last. It was filled with crystalline data spires pulsating with light. The air thrummed with power, a tingling sensation prickling your skin. At the center stood an ancient artifact—a sphere of radiant energy floating above a pedestal.

Loki advanced cautiously. “That’s an Æsir core. It holds fragments of Asgardian knowledge and energy, enough to power Yggdrasil’s branches… or destroy them.”

You shot him a skeptical glance. “So, basically, we came all this way to babysit a bomb?”

He chuckled darkly. “Oh, it’s far more interesting than a bomb.”

Suddenly, the chamber began to quake. Mimir groaned. “You lot might want to hurry. That energy field doesn’t like being disturbed. Time’s running out.”

You stepped forward, rolling your eyes. “Great. Another day, another death trap.” With a flick of your wrist, auroral light sparked in your hand, a surge of power coursing through you as you prepared for whatever came next.

Want to read more of my works? Check out my masterlist !

dividers ©️ @cyberbeat + @vesearartistry .

angelremnants ©️ 2024. All rights reserved. Do not repost, reproduce, or distribute without explicit permission.

[zapreportsblog]

Hello. Can you make an obsessive Volturi Kings and female fairy or elf reader?

❝our little fairy❞

✭ pairing : yandere poly volturi king x reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (y/n) is a tree spirit who was out exploring one day when she flies into the broad chest of Felix volturi, curious on her being he takes her back to his kings where a bond is formed between the three leaders and their little fairy.

✭ twilight masterlist 2

In a hidden corner of the ancient woodland, bathed in the soft, golden glow of the setting sun, a tiny woodland fairy (Y/N) flitted gracefully through the air. She was no larger than a dandelion puff, her iridescent wings shimmering with each delicate flutter. Her mission this evening was simple - to gather boggle cap tops and fragrant flowers to adorn her cozy little home nestled within the hollow of an ancient oak tree.

(Y/N) darted from one flower to another, her laughter like the tinkling of a distant wind chime. With nimble fingers, she plucked the petals of a dew-kissed wildflower, all the while imagining how they would brighten her tiny abode. Lost in her world of flora and whimsy, she didn't notice the towering figure of a man approaching.

Felix, a formidable vampire with rippling muscles and a chiseled jawline, moved through the forest with an eerie grace that belied his imposing presence. He was on a solitary walk, deep in thought, when an unexpected gust of wind swept (Y/N) off course. With a gasp, she collided with his chest, knocking the wind out of her, quite literally.

Startled, Felix instinctively reached out to catch whatever had just crashed into him. In his massive, open palm, he found himself holding the tiniest being he had ever seen. A creature so delicate, so ethereal, it could only be the stuff of legends.

"What a surprise we have here," Felix mused, his voice a deep rumble that (Y/N) felt rather than heard. He marveled at the tiny being he held, her translucent wings fluttering desperately to regain her composure.

(Y/N), on the other hand, was equally awestruck. Her wide, sparkling eyes took in the towering figure before her, his crimson eyes and pale skin telling her all she needed to know. She had heard tales of vampires, creatures of the night, but had never imagined she would encounter one up close.

As Felix examined her with a mix of curiosity and amusement, they both spoke in unison, their voices overlapping in a bizarre coincidence. "What are you?"

Their synchronized query left them momentarily dumbfounded, but it was Felix who broke the silence. "I'm a vampire," he declared, his gaze locked on her. "Now then, what are you?"

(Y/N) gathered her composure and replied, "I'm a fairy," her tiny voice ringing with a mixture of pride and wonder.

Felix's lips curled into a wry smile as he considered the possibilities. "Interesting," he murmured. "My masters, the Volturi Kings, would probably want to meet you. Would you be willing to accompany me to them?"

(Y/N) hesitated for only a moment before nodding. She had always been curious about the world beyond her woodland home, and this encounter promised an adventure unlike any she had ever imagined. With a sense of anticipation, she remained perched in the palm of Felix's hand as he set off on a journey that would change both their lives forever.

Felix returned to the imposing fortress of the Volturi, the ancient stone walls and eerie silence of the place contrasting sharply with the vibrant world from which he had come. In the palm of his hand, nestled amidst the swirl of his dark cloak, (Y/N) clung to a strand of his clothing, her heart aflutter with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.

As Felix entered the grand hall where the three Volturi kings resided, his voice echoed through the cavernous chamber. "Masters, I bring you a most extraordinary guest."

Aro, the ancient and charismatic leader of the Volturi, turned his crimson eyes toward Felix, his features alight with curiosity. Marcus, the somber and introspective king, regarded Felix with a gaze as penetrating as the shadows that clung to him. Caius, the most imposing of the three with a demeanor as cold as ice, observed the proceedings with an air of detached indifference.

Felix recounted the story of his chance encounter with the tiny fairy, (Y/N), and how their simultaneous question had sparked this unusual alliance. As he spoke, Marcus, the most attuned to emotions among the Volturi, felt a peculiar sensation. It was like the faint stirrings of a bond he hadn't experienced in centuries.

The bond, however, was not limited to him alone. As Marcus delved deeper into the sensation, he realized that it extended, tendrils of emotion, reaching out to touch not only him but also Aro and Caius. It was as if this tiny being in Felix's palm had ignited a connection that bound them together.

Marcus met Aro's gaze, and without words, he conveyed his discovery. Aro's eyes widened with intrigue, and he nodded in understanding. Caius, on the other hand, seemed indifferent to the revelation.

With an air of expectation, Aro approached Felix and the small fairy. He extended a slender hand, and Felix carefully transferred (Y/N) into Aro's palm. The fairy stood there, her heart pounding, as Aro examined her with a bemused expression.

"Interesting," Aro murmured, his voice a velvety whisper. "Such a rare and exquisite creature."

Caius, who had been watching from the sidelines, couldn't resist the pull of curiosity any longer. He reached out and gently cupped (Y/N) in his hand, his cold skin contrasting with her warmth. Her miniature form seemed even smaller against his massive palm, but she held her composure, her wide eyes flitting between the three kings.

Caius, Aro, and Marcus leaned in, their expressions filled with fascination as they admired the tiny fairy before them. And just as (Y/N) had marveled at their vampiric beauty, she found herself flustered yet enchanted by the kings' ethereal grace and handsomeness.

With her heart fluttering like a hummingbird's wings, (Y/N) realized that her adventure had taken an unexpected turn. She was now the center of attention among the most powerful vampires in existence, and the enchantment of their world was beginning to weave its magic around her in ways she could never have imagined.

Aro, the enigmatic leader of the Volturi, continued to study (Y/N) with fascination as she now stood in the palm of his hand. Her ethereal beauty and innocence intrigued him, and he couldn't help but find her presence captivating.

With an air of gentleness that contrasted with his usual demeanor, Aro began to speak to (Y/N). "My dear, I must explain that we are not like the creatures you are familiar with. We are vampires, though I’m sure our guard felix told you of our species. We vampires are immortal beings who feed on blood to survive."

(Y/N), who had never heard of vampires or their dark nature, simply nodded, assuming Aro was merely explaining his kind to her. "I see," she replied, her voice tinged with curiosity. "I am a woodland fairy, a guardian of the forest. We live in harmony with nature, nurturing the plants and creatures that inhabit our realm."

Marcus, the quieter and more introspective of the Volturi kings, couldn't help but feel sympathy for the tiny fairy. He decided to share another piece of information that would undoubtedly surprise her. "You see, (Y/N), there's something else you should know. Vampires have mates, like soulmates. It's a bond that goes beyond our understanding."

(Y/N) furrowed her tiny brow, not quite comprehending. "Mates? I've never heard of such a thing among my kind. We exist to protect and preserve the balance of the forest, but we don't have mates."

Caius, the most imposing of the Volturi kings, leaned in closer to (Y/N) and explained in a surprisingly gentle tone, "Mates are like soulmates as Marcus has said, and you just so happen to be ours therefore our souls are now linked to your existence, and we can't let you leave."

Confusion welled up within (Y/N). She loved the forest and being with nature, and the thought of not returning to her home saddened her. The three kings, sensitive to her emotions, proposed a solution.

Aro spoke, "We can build you a small house in our garden. You can be close to nature, and we can be close to you."

Although it was a generous offer, (Y/N) couldn't help but question it. "But why can't I go back to my home in the forest?"

Aro, ever the strategist, decided to stretch the truth to ensure her compliance. "The further you are from your mate, the weaker it makes the vampires. Eventually, it could even lead to our demise."

Hearing this, (Y/N) was filled with concern for her newfound friends. She didn't want to be the cause of their suffering. With a heavy heart, she agreed to stay in the garden with them, trusting their words.

Aro turned his attention to Alec and Jane, two of his loyal guards. "Alec, Jane, please retrieve the things from (Y/N)'s little house in the forest. We will make her feel at home here."

As the two vampires departed on their mission, (Y/N) couldn't shake the feeling that her life had taken an unexpected turn, and the enigmatic bond with these vampire kings would forever alter her existence.

The Volturi kings watched with a mixture of relief and elation as (Y/N) agreed to stay with them in their garden. The fact that they didn't have to resort to force or Chelsea’s manipulation abilities, filled them with a sense of contentment they rarely experienced. To them, she was more than just a rare and beautiful creature; she was their perfect mate.

As (Y/N) spoke animatedly about where she would place her belongings in the garden and how she would decorate it to fit her needs, the kings sat in a contemplative silence. Dark thoughts swirled in their minds like a storm on the horizon.

Aro, with his uncanny ability to see into the future, envisioned a world where (Y/N) would never leave their side. He saw himself as her protector, ensuring that she would never be harmed by anyone, and those who dared to threaten her would face the full extent of his wrath.

Marcus, whose empathy allowed him to sense the emotions of others, felt a growing sense of possessiveness towards (Y/N). He couldn't bear the thought of her being with anyone else, and the idea of her happiness being dependent on them was intoxicating.

Caius, who had always been the most cold and ruthless of the trio, surprised even himself with the intensity of his feelings for (Y/N). He imagined a future where they would be inseparable, where he would be her shelter from the world, and where anyone who dared to hurt her would face a punishment beyond measure.

Their fixation on (Y/N) was all-consuming, and they couldn't help but revel in the darkness of their desires. To them, she was the embodiment of perfection, the one they had longed for, and they were willing to do whatever it took to ensure she would never leave their side.

As (Y/N) continued to share her plans for her new life in the garden, the Volturi kings sat in silence, their minds filled with possessive thoughts and an unwavering determination to keep her with them, no matter the cost.

[proshippers-against-censorship]

UWU stop interacting with antis. If you’re anti-censorship then act like it, you can’t stop people from having opinions <3 coming from someone who isn’t pro or anti ship because I’m not a 15 year old porn addicted gooner

This is a discourse blog. A discourse blog that speaks quite a bit about sexual topics. If a 15 year old was running this blog, I would have concerns, in all honesty, because they really shouldn't be interacting as publicly and openly with NSFW content.

However, your comment alone helps to display why, while I'm perfectly fine running my discourse blog as a discourse blog, this may not be the place for you. So let's break this down:

• No adult with any desire to be taken seriously by anyone uses the term 'gooner' unironically. That being said, you give off the red flags of being a younger teen, and interacting directly with NSFW content easily breaches the boundaries of adults.

• If a 15yo was regularly interacting with porn to the point that this is easily known, their parents can be held liable in multiple states. You could try reporting me to the police for being a 'porn-addicted minor'. Unfortunately, you will come off as a laughingstock, because I'm not a minor and I also just...don't watch porn. Unlike you, presumably, I am in a lovely relationship with a significant other who can handle those desires.

•The APA and DSM-5 do NOT classify porn addictions as real, and therefore, they aren't a thing. Multiple studies, as well, have disproven the existence of the 'porn addiction'. This idea can be traced back to - wait for it - Christian Puritanical anti-sex culture. Now, as much as church needs to be better separated out of everything, the Christian God does not run my life nor most countries, and so his religious anti-sex ideals are irrelevant.

• I'm guessing you just, don't read (shocker), but if you check out that beautiful intro paragraph that is pinned on this blog, you'll notice that I welcome opinions shared in a civil way, even if they oppose my own, and am in fact quite stern on the idea that you shouldn't lock yourself in an echo chamber. Hearing contrasting opinions can help strengthen or even change your core beliefs. But that whole idea leans on the idea that neither side is pissing their pants over discovering that their ideals don't extend to everyone, which is what you appear to be doing here. I am welcome to conversations on why you think what I'm doing is stupid, but I'm not going to bother with you unless you put on your big boy pants and be a mature person.

• You aren't 'neither', you're an anti. You scream it throughout your whole message. So if this account bothers you, why don't you do yourself a service and block it instead of being annoying in my DMs?

• This point is just here to see if you have the capacity to actually read things, since you obviously know nothing about this account despite the big ole pinned post. Go have some tea, get in a better mood, and then feel free to come back for a more progressive, civil conversation. It'd be good for you.

[hijackalx]

GHOST +18

SUMMARY: Gortash helps you remember what your relationship with him was like.

WORD COUNT: 4000

UNDER THE CUT: F!reader, good dark urge reader, hard dom gortash, degradation, praise kink, spanking, daddy kink, sadism and masochism, SLIGHT NONCON, some angst at the end

You watch as the crowd disperses, chattering amongst themselves. The once quiet hall becomes an echo chamber for indiscernible voices; you quickly begin to search for an escape before the socializing gives you a headache.

The coronation wasn't worth your time. You didn't even get to speak to Gortash before he disappeared into the sea of people, and your chances of finding him now are slim.

You needed so badly to speak to him about the situation at hand; you hoped he'd be willing to come to a compromise. There's little desire for conflict in your veins— is it bad to admit that sometimes you wish this weight was bestowed upon someone more combative?

You push through bodies, interrupting minglers and meaningless conversations. "Oh, I'm so wealthy!' 'Yes, yes, me as well!" you mock them under your breath, putting on your most haughty persona. The topics that enthrall patriars never quite intrigued you.

As far as you can remember, at least.

You knock shoulders with one of them, though you remain in character. "My deepest apologies, good sir," your voice comes out nasally, your nose held high with a level of snootiness.

Their hand graces your upper arm, each finger laced coldly with steel. It's not a dismissing touch, but a grab. It wraps around your bicep, holding you in place. Your body tenses, shoulders shooting upright— perhaps your impression was a bit too insulting.

"U-uh—" you laugh nervously while your eyes follow their way up to their face. Your heartbeat stutters in your chest, a stillness overcoming you like a startled rabbit.

A man stands before you; his eyes sunken, his hair cut haphazardly, his skin tanned and scarred. You know who this is.

"You," his deep voice finds you through the noise. "I've been looking for you. For a moment, I was worried that you’d left." he doesn't release you, as if he's afraid to lose you again.

"Gortash," you mutter, your gaze darting over his features. "I... was looking for you as well, actually." you're totally and utterly surprised by the fact he even acknowledged you, let alone had been seeking you out.

"Enver," he speaks, and you don't quite understand what he means until you notice the playful raise in his brow; he's correcting you. How... informal of him to suggest you call him by his first name.

He finally removes his grip from your arm. A gentle grin pulls at his lips, and he seems to try to hide it behind the wine in his glass. There's a beat of silence, and during it you catch his eyes not-so-subtly gracing over your figure. "Your dress is lovely," is all he says, and you suddenly feel that your garment is too revealing.

Your arm lays over your stomach and fastens to the other, as if that would some how barricade you from his scrutinizing gaze. So, the Archduke is a bit of a pervert— not something you expected, but something you can deal with, nonetheless.

"I, um— listen—" you begin, yet struggle to pull your thoughts together in the chaos. "Is there... somewhere else... we could talk?"

His eyes suddenly appear more lively, though there's something else inside them that you can't quite place. "Of course." he places his glass down on a nearby waiter's tray. You're shocked as he places a palm towards the middle of your back, making contact with the bare skin through the window of your dress. He guides you out of the crowd, and you're amazed at how easily he wades through it as his obstacles yield to him.

He takes you toward a dark, spiral staircase. You're not sure if he's being polite when he insists you go ahead or if he's attempting to peek up your dress, and you try not to think about it.

Once you reach the top, your body is caressed by the cool, night air. You stop in your tracks, amazed at how the city glows in the dark. You can hear the sounds of the bustling streets, and the faint hum of the gathering downstairs.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Enver's voice appears behind you and you flinch. You'd forgotten he was there. "As are many things that bend so pliantly to my will."

You turn around to meet his eyes, how they look up at you from under his brow, steady and ravenous. There's a pit that opens up in your stomach— his plans are sinister, and you need the upcoming conversation to be enough to stop them.

Suddenly, you're attacked by a barrage of self-doubt. What a heavy task for someone as measly as you.

The wind blows through the both of you, pulling at your hair and clothing as if saying to stop stalling. Your eyes flit to the ground once before allowing him to lead you further.

He opens another door for you, this one leading to what you believe is an office. Your bodies are bathed in the warm candlelight as you enter. You approach the long, many-seated table in the immediate vicinity as the sound of him closing the large doors fills the chamber.

You observe the architecture, feeling a sense of awe at being in the presence of such expensive tastes. Enver walks around you, heading to a compartment holding many different kinds of liquor. "I keep the good stuff in here," he comments, the bottle in his grasp clinking against the others as it's removed. "Although, I rarely have the pleasure of sharing it with guests as enchanting as yourself."

His words seem to carry an implication of familiarity. You turn to him with a raised brow. "You know why I'm here?" Your mind flits back to earlier— you remember him saying something about looking for you as well.

With a still hand he pours the cinnamon-colored liquid into both of your glasses. He doesn't look up as he responds, "Do you really believe me to be so dull?" he lets out a small laugh, placing the cork back into the bottle. "Besides, my intuition tells me we both want the same thing."

"... We do?" you mutter in disbelief. Had you been wrong about him? Is he really willing to hear you out so easily?

He hands you your glass. "We do." he raises his drink to you as if to toast, then brings it to his mouth. As he lets the drink disappear down his throat, his eyes remain on yours. This time, you feel that you may be able to trust whatever is behind them.

You join him with a small sip, and there is a short moment shared between you two. You notice just how close he's standing to you, but for some reason you don't step away. Your gaze falters from his own, shakily sneaking a glance at his lips, then his neck, and his exposed chest...

You stop there, quickly darting your pupils back upwards. You notice him still staring, and you wonder if perhaps your eyes explored just a bit too much.

Flustered, you turn around and place your palms on the table. "I—I'm sorry, this is just... a bit much for me." you try to compose yourself, feeling the start of your proposal bubbling to the surface. With a sigh, you begin, "Gor— Enver, I wanted to discuss the future of—"

You can't get any more words out— not even a sound. Your eyes widen, your temperature rising throughout your entire body like a surging wildfire. The only thing you can focus on is his lips on your neck and his body pressed against yours as he pins your hands to the tabletop.

Your breath quivers, heart in your throat. What is happening?

His mouth begins making its way downwards. You shiver out of your frozen state. With a swift, freeing elbow to his ribcage, you turn and shove him away from you.

He stumbles backward, the emotions on his face cycling too quickly for you to make something of it. Eventually, anger is the one that settles and stays. "What in the hells is the matter with you?!"

Your hand grips the glass on the table tightly, ready to use it as a weapon if you must. "I— what's the matter with me?! You just came onto me! I don't even know you!"

"What else did you expect, you little—" A crease forms between his brows. "... You don't know who I am?" his voice appears more softly, harboring confusion.

"Well, yes, you are the Archduke— but you know what I mean! Y-you don't just walk up to any stranger with their back turned and start kissing their neck!"

He glances away for a moment, shoulders relaxing as he finds the answers he's seeking inside the night’s prior instances. "You and I are hardly strangers, my dear."

You go quiet.

No— your memory can't have failed you again, not here. Not with him. You'd remember, surely you would.

With an inquiring grin, he approaches you slowly. "So it’s true. How curious." he studies you as if you're a freshly discovered specimen. "If you don't remember what we were, do you even remember what you are?"

His words rattle you to your core. To imply that your relationship with him was so deeply intertwined with who you once were— it almost makes you sick.

"You're lying," you respond quickly, regardless of whether you think he is or not. You won't accept otherwise.

"Am I?" he stops mere inches from your face, as if to allow you to see the truth through his eyes. They delve into yours, carrying an intensity that yours lack, a confidence that you wish wasn't there.

He hums. "Allow me to jog your memory." with a deep inhale, he opts to press his lips against yours. Your trembling body leans into the table behind you, backing further and further away from him until you can't anymore. He kisses you, and for some reason, you let him. You don't make any extravagant attempts to rid yourself of him— instead, you allow him to have you, as if on instinct.

The kiss lasts a few seconds, and he lingers for a moment before pulling away. You feel an emptiness on your lips, your fingertips leaving the glass at your side to reach up and gently inspect the area.

"First, we were accomplices. You, a chosen of Bhaal; I, a chosen of Bane,” he looks you directly in the face as he speaks, making sure you’re listening intently. “After so much time together, we took an interest in each other, particularly each other's bodies," he explains, "We were so young and knew so little— but we learned from each other. Experimented with each other—"

You shift underneath where he has you trapped against the table. You sink into yourself, your chin tucking down in shame. You're not sure how you feel about all of this, but you do know that there's a growing warmth between your thighs.

Even if your mind fails to remember what you two did together, your body knows.

His head tilts so that he speaks into your ear. "And, Gods, the things you'd let me do to you," as if reliving the memory, he almost moans, the lilt to his tone making your stomach lurch.

”N-no…” you mumble, though there is little substance behind the word.

He lowers himself, his mouth hovering over your neck once again. His breaths fan your sensitive skin before pressing his lips to it.

You twitch, your hand involuntarily coming up to rest in his hair. He hears how your breath hitches, and you feel him smile against you as he sucks softly.

His restless hand finds itself on your thigh, slipping into the slit of your dress. The cold material of his gauntlets raises goose bumps on your skin, your muscles tensing every time he reaches just inches from your core.

He pulls his lips from you with a pop, slightly breathless.

"It became an addiction. We'd meet up at every opportunity— almost every night just to fuck," he says with enough emphasis to make you realize just how filthy your past together was. “Hells, I even remember asking you what your father thought of his prized offspring becoming my personal little whore."

You burn hot with embarrassment, though some part of you likes the name he's given you. "... a- and?" you hate yourself for playing into whatever this is, but you can't help it. You want him to keep talking.

He laughs, "you said you didn't give a shit. Can you imagine that? Daddy's little girl willing to sacrifice everything just so she wouldn't have to go a day without me fucking her into the mattress.” he gives you a lift onto the table, both of his hands roughly pulling your thighs apart so he can place himself between them.

As if acting on its own, you fail to notice how your body arches into him, begging for his touch. "Enver..." you moan quietly, the sensation feeling so familiar on your tongue. The memories he describes to you seem so real yet so distant. You want to remember them, to experience them.

His chest rises and falls quicker by the minute. As his hand comes up to direct you by your jaw, the gold points on his fingertips leave indents in your skin. "You have no idea how elated I was to get news of your reappearance. I don't have words to explain how badly I've missed you— your body."

Unable to compose himself any longer, he finally stops teasing and slams his mouth into yours. He's aggressive and rough; the biting, smacking your teeth together kind of rough. You struggle to keep up with him, balancing yourself with an arm over his shoulders until he pushes you onto your back. Impatiently, he rips his sharp gauntlets from his hands, the objects landing somewhere on the floor with a clatter.

He runs his bare hands over the curves of your body, taking in the sight as if it's the first time. You lift your back as he reaches for the zipper of your dress, his adrenaline-ridden fingers fumbling before undoing it successfully. You help him wriggle yourself out of it.

The cold air hits your exposed breasts, your nipples erect and sensitive. His calloused thumb brushes over one before he tightly squeezes your tit, an obvious attempt to hear your voice. He's delighted when you gasp in both pain and pleasure, his mouth meeting yours to devour the sound. He then quickly trails down your neck to pepper kisses over your chest.

He takes one of your nipples into his mouth, purposefully grazing it with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. Your hand tangles in his messy hair, lifting yourself into him.

His opposite hand sneaks into your panties, toying with your clit in a cruel fashion. He pinches and teases, refusing to give you what you want. Frustrated, you reach down to move his hand out of the way, to which he grabs and restrains. You try the same with the other, and he repeats.

"Insubordinate little slut," he mumbles under his breath as he pushes his knee between your legs, providing pressure but no friction. "You want to do it yourself?" he says meanly, slightly irritated by your actions.

You immediately begin rubbing against his thigh, finally feeling some relief. You exhale, feeling waves of pleasure course through you.

He peers down between your bodies to watch, his erection prominent in his pants. "Fuck, that's right. Show me how badly you need it."

Your hips eventually start to stutter, unable to continue as you lose yourself in the sensation. "I- I can't," you whine, unsatisfied as you fail to keep your rhythm.

He smiles sadistically at how you struggle. "Oh, you can't?" he pouts mockingly. "Poor thing."

You know what he wants, it sits in the back of your mind, ready without second thought. You've been here before. "P-please,” you choke out. "Please, I need you. Fuck me, please," your voice comes out pathetically, happy to continue begging until you get what you desire.

As if on cue, he flips you onto your stomach, your ass stuck in the air and your cheek pressed to the hardwood. He takes your arm and folds it behind your back, holding you in place. "You say that like I was going to give you a choice." You see how he leers down at you through the corner of your eye, a wolfish look on his features. You don't know how much truth there is to his words, but your pussy flutters anyway.

He runs a finger over your folds, the friction from your underwear making you jump. You whimper his name, completely at his mercy. With a huff, he rips your panties off of you, splitting the delicate fabric in half.

Pausing for a moment, he admires the glistening wetness between your thighs. He kicks your feet apart further to spread you open, using his finger to circle your clit before covering the digit in your essence. You watch as he sticks it in his mouth, cleaning it off with his tongue. He lets out a content sigh, savoring the taste.

You whine while deepening the arch in your back, presenting yourself to him further.

His brows furrow. Picking up your torn panties, he wads them up and shoves them in your mouth. It extends your jaw fully, making it impossible to spit them out. "Shut up," he growls. "You'll get what you want when I feel like giving it to you."

You can taste yourself on the ripped garment, feel how wet you are with your tongue. Your saliva begins to dampen it by the second, and it’s only a matter of time before it drips past the barrier.

The sound of him disrobing fills the air. Your irises roll back behind corkscrewed eyelids, anticipating what is to come with little patience.

The gag muffles your sounds as you feel his length drag between your thighs, parting your puffy folds. Your hole contracts spastically, desperate for him.

Then, he slams into you without warning. You scream, writhing beneath him as his dick forcibly stretches you out. The pain is almost unbearable as you feel tears start to materialize.

He balances himself on the table with his free hand, letting out a long, shuddering breath. "Fuck." He takes a moment before moving. There is no slow build-up, his pace is aggressive and hard from the very start. He fucks you like he absolutely hates you, and you suppose it's possible that he does. If what he says is true, then you abandoned him. Not on purpose, but you still did.

His cock moves in a shoveling motion, hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You send your body back to him every time he reenters you, rocking in sync. It feels natural— it feels good. As you adjust, you realize that you fit together perfectly; two puzzle pieces that were never meant to be apart. Suddenly, his dependence on you makes so much more sense.

You gasp as he grabs a fistful of your hair, roughly pulling your head upward. He holds you there uncomfortably as he speaks into your ear, "if you ever leave me again," he pauses to catch his breath, "I'll fucking kill you. Do you understand?"

Nodding your head is not enough for him. He rips your underwear from your mouth. "yes, what?"

Your breathing is ragged and high-pitched as you're finally allowed to use your mouth again. "Yes, daddy!" you assume that must be what he made you call him before, based on how it forces its way past your teeth. You're sure he gets some kind of power-trip from it, perhaps he's envious of your previous devotion to your father.

“It seems you remember more than I thought.” he uses his thumb to wipe the drool from your swollen lip, then massages the spot where he yanked your hair. "Good. You're doing so good."

His unexpected praise makes your pussy tighten around him, milking him, begging for him to come.

He lets out a deep, throaty moan. "Gods, you feel fucking amazing." his palm makes contact with your ass, a sharp smack echoing through the tall ceilings of the office. You yelp, your fingernails clawing at the tabletop. You can feel the hand-shaped welt forming right away, the stinging sensation rising to the top of your skin. "You like how daddy fucks you?"

He asks just as you feel yourself reaching your climax. It builds in your lower stomach, bubbling in your chest. "Y-yes!" you cry. "Please don't stop! Just like that!"

Cruel man that he is, he does the exact opposite of what you ask. He stops, pulling out of you and leaving you feeling empty. Ushering you up, he switches places with you and grabs you by your wrist, guiding you onto his lap.

He looks at you through his brow, cheeks flushed, breaths erratic, yet with a smirk playing at his lips. "Work for it," he orders, holding himself up with his palms on the tabletop.

As you lower yourself onto his length, he watches you intently, brushing your unruly hair out of your face. Your cheek is red and swollen from being pressed into the table, and he gives it a few condescending pats. "You look a mess, dearest," he laughs.

You ignore him, focused on taking him in. You do it slower than he did, but he remains patient for you. You suppose that's his act of kindness for the day.

Balancing on your knees, you start bouncing in his lap. Your hands hold onto his shoulders, watching how he slides in and out of you. A creamy, white liquid has been created between the two of you, coating his shaft and your entrance.

His attention remains on your face— sometimes shifting to your tits, but mostly your face. You eventually notice, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. Placing a hand to the back of your head, he pulls you in for a kiss. You cup his face with your palms, whimpering into his mouth as his tongue grazes the inside of your teeth.

He breaks the kiss along with a line of saliva. His nose finds the crook of your neck, resting there as he pulls your bodies flush together. Your arms rest over his broad shoulders, occasionally digging your nails into his skin. He seems at peace with you in his grasp, holding you near. It’s in this moment that you truly feel just how much he missed you, worried for you, yearned for you. You realize that your relationship may have been more than just sex to him, even if not officially so.

He lets out a broken groan as he reaches his climax. His grip becomes almost painfully tight, taking your waist into his strong arms to fuck you again as he releases a thick load of cum inside you. The warm substance coats your walls as you tense around him.

His orgasm encourages your own. Squirming in his grasp, you throw your head back. You never imagined yourself crying out a series of his name, but here you are, and you never imagined it would be so sweet on your tongue. He keeps you in place with his hands on your hips, helping you ride it out.

You rest your weary body on his, your cheek against the sticky skin of his shoulder. Although, you don’t rest easy. There’s a heaviness to your heart, a guilt.

You can’t be the woman he knew— you’ve changed. The things you want are no longer the same, and you’ll betray him without even meaning to. He’s in love with a ghost, one that you just can’t pretend to be.

In the end, you’re in each other’s way, and you always will be. Whatever is between you two is an obstacle, and it’s destined to be destroyed.