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ultralightpoe · 8 months ago

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Rubies Hidden With Blood -Aemond Targaryen

Authors Note: Hello, thank you for the patience while I am on a writing break. I’m still trying to figure out life and how to fix it, but I channeled some of the pain and anger into this and I hope you like it . I hope you are all staying safe and healthy out there in the world - Ultralightpoe

Warnings: mentions of executions, adultery, foul language

Word Count: 4996

MAIN Master List

Description: Inspired by Anne Boleyn and Elizabeth. (INSPIRED. You are not either of them you’re a character inspired by them)

(Thank you for the gif @onemillionyous )

x Enjoy! x

To Anne Boleyn, who spent the last month of her life preparing for the rest of her daughters life to the best of her ability. Every stitch and warning given was noticed.

And to Elizabeth, who spent the rest of her life hiding footprints for her mother in a home that had tried to strip her memory.

To the bond of the two, never truly understood.

You stood, stiff and freezing in the cold weather, on the very steps your mother walked up the day she was executed. A message you were very sure your father intended, one that you would not cave into.

Verlain, your fathers hand, stood to your right with a grim expression as he did his best to stop looking to the stained spot at the top of the steps. Where her blood had leaked down, seeping into the stone in a mark that would be there forever. It would be centuries before her death would be forgotten, a fact that sent a wave of nausea through you, gripping you in its fierce hold as you tried to inhale some fresh air. Fighting to keep the tears welling in your eyes at bay as the corset constricts against your ribs.

Breathe. Keep your wits about you.

“Are you feeling alright, your highness?” Verlain asks, eyebrows pinching together as he watches your hand slide across the front of your dress, as if you could ease the ache in your ribs and lungs from rubbing it. His tone slips at the last two words and you have to bite back the bitter laugh, not willing to risk your breath on it.

A moon ago you had been nothing more than a bastard to this court, upon his orders. Anyone within earshot of his majesty knew that the forsaken daughter of the castle whore would be painted a bastard the rest of her life.

The second her body had been carted off he had your handmaiden pack you up, sending you both to an estate far off, so that he would never have to look upon your face again.

“You haunt me! You plain cunt! You HAUNT ME!” He had yelled the day you begged, the day you crawled to your knees begging him to keep you. Of course you haunted him, you had her face. And whether he had to look upon you or not you were sure she haunted his every move.

She surely hadn’t visited you since she passed. There were no ghosts in the offwood estate. This castle, however, had more than you could dare keep track of.

But you hadn’t seen her. Whether you should be thankful for that had yet to be seen.

“Princess?” Verlain asks again, taking a step up, getting closer as he extends a hand to you. “Prin-“

“Don’t call me that.” You sneer, slapping his hand away from you and readjusting the veil that covered your face. Even with your back turned to the spit you could still see her blood on the stone, gulping quickly. Don’t look. Don’t. Look.

But Verlains eyes cast behind you to the stain, his neck showing an audible gulp before he guiltily looks back to you. “Princess, I never got to speak with you after-“

“I’m not your princess.” Your tone was cold, and you made a show of shooing him away. “And you should mind yourself, Lord Verlain. If his majesty catches you this close he might think ill of the intent.”

Verlains face pales, the man stepping back so quickly he nearly slips on the steps before turning back to the courtyard below, fixing his embellished attire.

You missed being a bastard. A bastard would never be sold off like this.

There was a war brewing, and many of the kingdoms were beginning to panic for alliances, this kingdom included. And there was one ally that everyone wanted, the seven kingdoms. Westeros. For there was truly no war that could be won against them.

You’d never seen a dragon, and if this was any under circumstance you would be excited. But this was your very own death march. Or as your mothers own prophet had claimed “you’ll earn your mothers reckoning.”

There was an ax somewhere out there with your name on it….. or maybe the jaw of a dragon ready to chew you up.

Before you could much more on it a firm grip snatches the back of your neck, pulling a gasp from you as it pulls you to them aggressively, the smell of wine filling your senses. “You step a foot out of line today and I’ll have your head just like I had your fucking mothers. You hear me, bastard? I’ll spike in on a fucking post.”

You can only nod, afraid that if you give a verbal response you might whine in pain, and you refuse to show him that weakness. He takes your response, letting go before moving to speak with Verlain as your older sister and little brother stand off to the side.

The best way to secure an alliance was through marriage. Your older sister couldn’t be married off since she was already married to a lord, and your younger brother was the heir to the kingdom, not to mention the Targaryens didn’t have many girls to marry off.

But they had Aemond Targaryen, the rumored demon of Westeros, with one eye and the largest dragon.

So you were renamed a princess, one that would be able to marry a prince.

Princess of whores being married to a prince of monsters. If your mother could see you now.

Bile rises up your throat as the memory of her face flashes through your mind, your eyes once again welling with tears. Stop thinking about her. Stop stop stop stop stop.

The heavy sound of thunder pulls your attention, blinking slowly as you try to peer through the veil to see the storm on its way, only to see clear skies. Confusion fills you as your brother gasps loudly, and then you see them, a hoard of dragons filling the skylines as their wings flap in unison . Not thunder, dragons.

Nausea fills you once more, and yet your mouth goes dry, fists clenching into the heavy skirts of your dress as you spot the older dragon riding in the back, a blur of long white hair flying with it.

And you know without a doubt, your future husband has arrived.

“Listen to me.” She sobs, falling to her knees before you as you cry out, the banging on the door scaring you even more than her tears. “You need to listen to me.”

“Where is papa?!” You scream, your mothers handmaidens rushing around the room as she pulls your face closer to hers by the back of your neck, pressing your foreheads together.

“Listen. To. Me.” She seethes, wiping your tears with a swipe of her thumb. “Breathe. Keep your wits about you. I need you to remember that these people are not your kin. They are not yours. They will not protect you.”

“Mama-“

“And your father is not- do. Not. Trust. Your. Father.”

“Mama please-“

“You need to remember to breathe. Breathe. Keep your wits about you. And?”

“Breathe. Keep your wits about you. And…. Unbowed, unbent, unbroken. They cannot break me.”

“Good. Good girl.” She sobs, reaching to kiss your forehead, her lips holding there for a long moment as the door to your mothers apartments break open and the guards storm in.

The handmaidens pull you back quickly, right as your mother shoves something in the top of your dress before they are on her. There is no gentleness in the way they grab her by her hair and drag her out, and there is no gentleness in the grip the handmaidens keep on you as you claw and bite to get to her.

By the time they are out of sight there is nothing left but her shoe that had fallen as she was dragged out, and what she had hidden in your dress.

Your mother had been taken.

Aemond was sick of the wind, a feeling he never thought he would get and yet it has arrived. He was ready to land, get a break from the beast below his thighs and have a meal that hadn’t been dried and shoved into a satchel last week.

His mothers boat stayed below them, his eldest sister's dragon taking the lead of their travel in the front as his uncle stuck to her right. Aegon, a spoiled brat through and through, was left in Kings Landing to act as King Regent as Rhaenyra traveled with them.

Helaena and Jacaerys keeping him in check.

But his brother had gotten under Aemonds skin just fine before they left, whispering rumors about his future bride in drunken slurs that made him both angry in a protective manner and angry in nervousness that the whispers might be true.

“They passed her mother around the court like a toy to their whims, and when she was used up they killed her and replaced her with her daughter. You’ll get nothing but a rag dear brother.”

The kingdom they flew to now had always been secretive within itself, and word rarely left it’s shores. The only thing anyone really knew is they had an army of soldiers that had yet to be conquered, who wore gold armor and spoke in ancient whispers.

He is snapped out of his haze as Rhaenyra signals to land, and Aemond takes a moment to rejoice in the feeling of his feet on soil, focusing on that the entire hike up to the castle with his mothers arm now looped into his as Vhagar and the ship are left at the docks.

“Don’t be nervous.” Alicent Hightower whispers, reaching a hand to swipe at his cheek, humming in discontent before licking the pad of her thumb and swiping his cheek once more. He groans, trying to pull back.

Even if she meant well he knew his mother never understood how painful the skin near his eye was. The scar was always pulling and swollen, not to mention how hard the eye was to clean if the patch moved even the slightest bit.

“I hear she’s beautiful.” Lucerys offers, keeping close to his own mothers side. “You saw her painting!”

Indeed Aemond had, and like a lovestruck fool he had stared at it for hours until it was time to go. The very painting now sat in his chambers, waiting to be hung for after the wedding…. If there was to be a wedding.

His chest tightens as the castle steps come into view, multiple figures dressed in their finest clothes standing among them.

In the front, in the most ridiculous frille of red and gold, stood the king. A smug smile laced on his features as an overly large crown stands on his head. Beside him with her arms crossed primly was a younger woman, wearing a smaller tiara of red rubies and a busty gown that he was sure Aegon would have leered at, smiling from ear to ear.

The king and his 5th wife then, and behind him a bit to the left on an upper step, had to be Verlain. The hand to the king.

Two more figures a bit further up, one clad in a light blue dress, rubbing at her stomach softly as she watched with nothing more than a nervous expression. Making eye contact with Aemond for just a moment before her face goes red and she looks away, disgust at himself rising in his chest.

What will my future wife think? He wonders, panic clawing at his throat. Will she refuse me? Will I truly be so ugly?

Before he can take a closer look at the boy beside the pregnant woman he looks over to…. You. Standing a little further to the right of the rest, obviously not really knowing where else to go, with a veil covering your face and wearing a gown of black and red. The long petticoat skirts held within your hands, the long bell sleeves barely covering your hands and the cape connected to the back of the dress making you look every bit pristine.

The first thing he notes is the lack of jewelry. No rings, no crown or tiara, no bracelets. An odd thing since the rest of your family was completely adorned with anything they could find.

“Queen Rhaenyra.” The king smiles, bowing his head the slightest inch, a fact that has both Aemond and Damon straightening. A slight to Rhaenyra, he was sure. “And her traveling companions. We welcome you.”

Aemond risks another look to you as Verlain extends a hand to help you descend the stairs. He can’t hear anything of what anyone is saying as he watches you, heart thumping through his chest at your every movement.

“-and this is my daughter.” The king mumbles out, his tone tightening at the phrase daughter as you bow gracefully, neck going low as you curtsy need to Rhaenyra then greet the rest of the party in correct order. Before he could say anything you lift the veil and his breath catches.

The oil painting did you no Justice. And within moments he found himself yearning to trace his fingers over your cheek as he had done to the painting to see how the softness would compare.

“And this is my brother, Aemond Targaryen. First of his name, rider of the great Vhagar and-“

“It is an honor.” The king interrupts Rhaenyra, your cheeks tinging with blush as your jaw tightens. You must know your father is being disrespectful then, and at least one of you has the decency to be embarrassed.

“As much as I love flattery,” he begins, not tearing his eyes from you. “I’d prefer if you showed my sister more respect. Last person to disrespect her so had his head sliced through the middle.”

Daemon has the audacity to check his nails for dirt as Rhaenyra sends him a knowing look, his mother tightening her hold on his elbow in approval before moving to you.

“It is an honor to meet you.” She holds out both hands, which you calmly place your own above as you watch her, and Aemond sees the skepticism glint in them. The narrowing of them as your nose scrunches. “Your beauty was surely understated. Don’t you agree Aemond?”

“Indeed. But to be fair I don’t think any painting or letter would ever do you justice.” You don’t say anything, merely bow your head in feigned shyness while the crowned woman behind you speaks up.

“They say she has her mothers complexion.” She giggles loudly, and your spine tightens quickly. “May the child be blessed with the one good thing about her-“

“You’ve had a long journey. I’m sure your hungry and we still some final touches on this alliance. I trust you find my daughter to your liking?” There that tone is again, like he is disgusted to call you his daughter.

“Of course. We accept the marriage proposal, let’s feast and forge out the rest of the details.” Rhaenyra nods, allowing Daemon to help her up the stairs as the king leads them inside.

Aemond is torn between offering his mother his arm or you, desperate to touch you but not wanting to seem like the type to leave his mother.

Lucerys is there, offering his arm and drawing the first actual smile from you, a wave of anger filling Aemond at the sight. “Might I escort you to dinner?”

“You may escort me up the stairs, but unfortunately it would be improper for me to join dinner.” His mother snaps her attention to that, watching you as closely as Aemond already had been while Lucerys leads you up the steps.

They both watch as you look in the opposite direction of where you are walking, keeping your face turned away from one particular spot.

“Is that…. Blood?” His mother gasps, and Aemond can do nothing but stare at the large stain of it, blinking slowly as the sun hits the dial at the top of the staircase.

It was clear that this had been set up as a stage at some point, the message still stained into the earth.

He doesn’t answer his mother, instead he helps her up the steps as he follows the rest of the group.

He was angry. It was the only thing he could register, the anger. The rest of it was numb, the blade that took his eye had made sure of it. No love, no happiness, no remorse. He just felt anger.

It burnt through his throat until he had no choice but to scream, tore through his chest like acid as he raged to relieve some of it, his sword swinging at anything he could.

The posts on his bed were the first to have been attacked, the broken canopy it once held brutalized and torn in the corner. The desk was next and he even took a hot poker from the fire to shatter the mirror in one swift move.

Every move was sheer force, every yell was an attempt to ease him, every slam of his fist and kick of his feet an instinct he could not fight.

Where was the justice?

People avoided looking at him now, whispers following him everywhere he went. Females outwardly laughed and gasped at him, acting as if he was a demon that had clawed from the shadows.

“Aemond.” Alicent tries, her hands folded against her dress as she watches her son rage within the walls of his room, feeling useless. He was in pain and there was nothing she could do. “Aemond please.”

“I DONT WANT TO BE HERE! THEY THINK IM A MONSTER!”

“Aemond-“

“KILL ME! KILL ME KILL ME KILL ME!” He rages, picking up the sword once more as she takes a step back, the tears falling from her eyes. She knows he would never, he was forged from steel itself, but the fear consumes her as she calls for Cole. Sobbing.

“Help him.” She pleads, hearing the old dragon roar in the distance as Aemond shatters under the pressure.

“It hurts.” The boy sobs, falling into the glass of his once mirror. “It won’t stop hurting!”

Cole nods, without a word he heaves the boy up, dragging him out and across the glass until they clear the room. His grip is brutal, even Aegon tries to stop them when they pass him in the hall.

“Where are you taking my brother?” He snaps, standing straight, the soberest Aemond has ever seen him.

But Cole doesn’t answer, and when Aemond trips the armor pinches into his skin as he is hefted back up until they make it to the training yard.

“You want to die? Earn it.” Cole snaps, picking up a sword. He doesn’t warn his strike, Aemond barely has a second to dodge as the blade swipes at him, falling to the mud quickly.

The wetness of it seeps into his clothes, staining them as his fingers dig in to crawl to the weapons to defend himself.

He remembers the feel of the earth in that moment, latching on to that anger once more as he stands to fight.

You weren’t allowed at the feast, a fact that Aemond finds suspicious as his Uncle moves around the room with his hand on his sword ready for an attack, making eye contact with each servant there. Everyone was on edge, this entire ordeal one that screams trap.

“Might I ask why the bride will not be joining us?” Rhaenyra breaks the silence, fixing herself in the chair given, nodding to the rest of her party to sit as well.

“After the events of her mother…. It’s better if she doesn’t join us.” The king answers, casting a look to Daemon. “She mourns her mother. Taken too soon from an illness.”

The air around them turns pungent, the sign of a lie fallen flat. Lucerys casts him a side look, his thick eyebrows pinched together in confusion as the king raises a glass to toast.

“To the blessed union of our families.” Everyone raises their own glasses before taking a sip, but not Aemond, he sets his glass down and looks around the room some more while the conversation is struggling to be picked back up.

“Those are lovely pearls.” Alicent tries, doing her best to ease some of the tension.

“Oh thank you.” The young queen giggles, leaning forward. “It’s out of fashion out here ever since-“

The king slams his hand upon her own, a bang emanating from the wood. She flinches, but tries to smile through it and Aemond feels a rage fill him as he imagines you having to do the same thing before. Is that why you chose not to eat with them?

“Pearls are…. Out of fashion out here.” Your sister fills in the silence, “the woman at the court tend to avoid them.”

“Speaking of.” Verlain smiles. “I have some things packed and ready to be transported. Gifts from the royal family to yours as a part of the arrangement. To be presented on the wedding day.”

“I just hope there will be room for all of us aboard that ship of yours.” The king smiles, though Aemond sees right through it.

“I can assure you it’s quite big. What a lonely ride it was here, while the others rode dragons. I am looking forward to the company on the way back. I do hope the bride fares well in the sea.”

“I believe my sister to be excited for it.” The pregnant once smiles, the first real smile from this table.

Aemond says nothing, picking up his goblet and draining the liquid in one easy go. Even the wine here tasted shit. Lucerys laughs under his breath when a pig is set on the table and when Aemond turns to glare thinking the jest is to him he finds that the young queen was using her cutlery to check her appearance.

He leans closer, Lucerys following his lead. “I hope that my future bride is not too attached to her family. For if I have to spend a second past the wedding with them I might just-“

Alicent slaps his shoulder quickly, making him sit up as Lucerys snickers. Whether he got to finish his sentence or not the message had been delivered.

She spent the last month of her life trapped in a tiny room, with nothing but a bed and a small window barred to keep her in. Her chamber pot was changed once a week and she was allowed one handmaiden.

But she tried not to let it craze her, pouring herself into preparations for the future ahead of her. Everyday followed the same routine.

In the morning she was brought to a chapel within the castle where the minister would pray with her, and every morning he would ask her if she had any sins she’d like to pray forgiveness for. She never did, for she remained adamant that she did nothing wrong. And she could withstand the scalding look the man gave her each time for his opinion did not matter, she knew her truth.

She spent the days seeing, ordering dresses and adjusting them. Day after day. Ordering dress after dress, a small gift her lord husband had allowed her. If she were to die then at least she would die well dressed.

But the dresses weren’t for her, she didn’t pour over every stitch for herself and she didn’t hem each one to perfection for her own vanity, for she knew the second this was over for her that her daughters life would be ruined.

She would prepare as much as she could for her daughter, she was a mother and she would not fail her even in her last moments.

Meanwhile you begged and pleaded for her back, crying into your sisters arms as she held you, rocking you back and forth.

Your father hadn’t come to see you since she was taken, and you weren’t allowed at court, soon enough even your sister was denying visits. Left alone with your handmaiden until the fateful day.

Verlain, one of your fathers men, came to the door and excitement filled you when you saw him. He had always been so kind and often stole sweets for you when no one was looking, but that morning he didn’t smile.

“I thought she might want one more friendly face with her.” He explains to the handmaiden, who has tears in her eyes as she nods. She pulls you away and prepares you, lacing your corset and dressing you in black before taking your hand and leading you through the halls.

“Are we going to see-“

“Shhh. Don’t say a word.” Verlain warns, trying to keep his voice soft. “Not today little lamb.”

You nod, reaching to grab his hand as well as they lead you to the courtyard. You remain in the back, with a good view of the steps, still holding both their hands.

Your mothers group of handmaidens stood to the side of the steps, all looking worried and most with tears falling down while someone hisses at Verlain.

“You brought her kin?!”

“The king demanded she be here.” Verlain answers back, something like grief crossing his face. “To witness.”

And witness you did.

You remember it well, the silent scream that clogged your throat and the way you tried running for her. You had fallen when Verlain pulled you back, your fingers digging into the mud as you tried to crawl to her with all your strength as the blood poured down.

After you had been dragged, kicking and screaming, to your chambers you’d been thrown in by the guards. The first person allowed access to come and see you had been your mothers main handmaiden, one you hadn’t seen at the execution, who you would later learn had reported your mother falsely.

She did not hug you, she did not coddle you. The only thing she asked was “your mothers necklace? Have you any idea where she hid it?”

You told her no, still crying, feeling betrayed.

She left soon after.

A week after that you were forced to kneel before your father as he stripped you of your title and your lineage. “You are her daughter and nothing more. A bastard in the eyes of the faith and the crown.”

You sobbed and begged him not to, crying over and over “papa!”

He screamed at you, slapping you across the cheek so hard you sprawled across the stone.

That night, your last night in the castle, you sat by a singular burning candle as an unknown phantom gently traced the bruise, singing softly to you as you waited for your mother to appear to you.

If there was anyone who would use your gift you were sure it would be her.

But she never came, and you were sent away, and soon the castle was scrubbed of her memory.

Your last night there was spent exactly the same as years ago, a fresh bruise adorning your cheek from your fat- his majesty, and you sitting by a candle and waiting for her. Silently pleading for her ghost to appear.

“Come on mother.” You whisper, waiting. “Just one more time before I meet you in the afterlife. Please.”

She does not show, and when the sun begins to rise you are escorted from your rooms down to the docks were your luggage was being loaded.

“Is this all you have?” Lucerys, the name he introduced himself with yesterday, asks and you nod.

“Not much is provided for Basta- for brides to be.” He takes your lie, smiling before you curtsy and allow him to run and catch up with his mother and father.

“I hope you will be okay with entertaining my mother for the journey.” An even voice fills the silence, your heart lunging through your chest as you turn to see the prince. You thought he was gorgeous, desperate to reach a hand out and see what was under the patch.

You refrained of course.

He, however, seemed unable to control himself as he brought a hand up to the bruise on your cheekbone. His fingertips tracing over it ever so lightly.

“How does he have black hair?” You ask, desperate to get the topic away from your cheek before it can even start.

“It’s…. A long story.” He huffs, a small smile playing at his lips. “Might I escort you to your chambers on the boat.”

He holds out a hand for you to take, and for a moment a pitch of fear fills you. Don’t look don’t look don’t look.

But you can’t stop yourself from turning to those steps, and seeing the blood among them for the last time. Once you’re gone that’s all that will be left of her memory, and that tears a hole through your soul.

She shouldn’t have to be alone here, but you were sure that you would find her soon enough, there was no way you would ever survive the Targaryens. It was the only reason your father would ever bother to accept this at all.

So, ignoring the white haired god beside you, you turn fully to the steps and bow properly. “Until we meet again.”

Your tears sink into the dirt, in the exact spot you once crawled, and when a breeze hits your cheek you can do nothing but lift your head to see her. Standing at the top of the steps, bowing back to you.

Tears fall quicker, and your throat stings from it as you turn to grab the princes still outstretched hand, and as the last remnants of the second queen fade the last memory of her is lead away to the docks, clutching the lost necklace tightly in the pocket of a dress she once sewed.

And you know, that just as your mother once did, you would meet your fate with your head held high.

Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken. They cannot break me.

But you hadn’t quite known what Kings Landing had in store for you, no one had expected it really.

(It's been a minute since I wrote something like this and this is the first time in months that writing hadn't felt like a chore. I hope you enjoy it!)

Part 2.... maybe?

#aemond hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen possessive #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen is back #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon angst #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon imagines #house of the dragon

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bird-inacage · 3 months ago

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Love Sea Episode 9: Lost at Sea before the Finale

Sigh. I had high hopes for this episode, which reached it's apex in the main conflict with Rak's dad (our honorary big bad). But yet again it's at a crucial juncture in the story, where writing and execution have fallen short when it really mattered.

Despite building tension for the past few weeks in service of this moment, it's swiftly deflated with little fuss. I thought the contract-tearing scene would provide a riveting layer of complexity for our characters to navigate. But it's barely a hiccup. The entire pay off we've been hurtling towards just unceremoniously fizzles out.

Here are my observations as to why this episode missed the mark (some of which I hope to dig into when I do a full review of the series).

The 'saviour' plot device. Where a character repeatedly saves the day in service of other characters (regardless of their credentials to do so). This is the role they've boxed Mut in. He swoops in - solves, fixes, pursues, soothes. He's faultless. He's unwavering. He's Rak's hero in shining armour. This isn't fundamentally bad except his capacity is reduced mainly to just that, and the cost is little to no development of his own. I take enormous issue with this because I dearly love Mut. He has great scope for a far more compelling trajectory. We had wonderful insights into his outlook on life in the earlier episodes, which have since taken a noticeable backseat. We are yet to see significant exploration of Mut's struggles, flaws or weaknesses. There appears to be some focus on this in episode 10, but why so little so late?

The women are rendered superfluous. Which isn't helped when we already have a lacklustre GL portrayal. As things go awry - Kwan, Vi and Mook are varying degrees of 'just there'. I would have loved to see the plot utilise the women who know Rak best, to contribute towards bringing Jak down. But the show's priority to aid Mut's heroic efforts, means the women are left with very little to do.

Mut VS Jak. If you compare the two men, Jak is taller and in fairly good shape. Physically, you'd expect more resistance in a fight. When Jak goes down, he barely tries to get up (even when Mut's back is turned). Thus, the outcome of the fight feels unearned, especially if we are to believe this man has violent tendencies that have traumatised his children. (He may not be murderously insane, but still volatile enough to maim his own son). By being so easily overpowered, the takeaway ends up being: 'oh, we needn't have worried'. And this exchange didn't have to be strictly physical either, it could have been psychological. Jak could have taunted Mut like he did in the café, and tried to chip at his resolve. Alternatively, if Rak were the one to overcome his father (in a bid to save Mut), it would show that Rak's love can power through his fear, and he'd gain that lesson through his own agency rather than Mut telling him he should no longer be afraid. (Another symptom of this series is subjugating Rak to a huge degree of passivity).

I'm not sold on Jak's character motivations, based on what we've seen. He's not quite smart or menacing enough to be a calculated sociopath, and he's a shade too conniving for an apathetic loser. If he's as lazy as we've been told, why would he go this far to secure Prin's money, when he's already syphoning finances from Rak and his mother? Couldn't he just sit back and continue to leech with no effort? If his desperation were a result of poor spending, it would at least ground his motive. Or if he's fuelled by the thrill of tormenting his family, we'd need to see mental depravity. Instead, much of Jak's actions feel - dare I say - 'because plot'? (Make your villains more formidable and their eventual downfall will pack more punch).

The few too many plot conveniences. The sillier one being how on earth Rak left the house without anyone noticing? The enormous glass staircase which sits front and centre in an open plan property makes it near impossible to go undetected. Unless he parkoured from his bedroom?

I'm gutted because the show veers towards the more questionable choices at their disposal. The set ups are there. The ideas are there. The parameters are there. It's what they decide to do with them that sadly misfires. This has caused my investment in the story to plummet towards the latter half.

I continue to watch for Fortpeat, and I feel for them because they've worked so hard. There's some lovely acting sprinkled throughout this episode but at this late stage in the series, the plot should be driving things home. Whereas the metaphorical tide keeps moving those goal posts in and out of sight. I hope they can at least round things off on a high note next week.

#love sea #love sea the series #love sea meta #love sea episode 9 #tongrak x mahasamut #rakmut #fortpeat #fort thitipong #peat wasuthorn #my review will be a full on thesis at this rate #ive been rooting for this show but they make some odd choices #the writing seems to particularly falter at the key points in the story #both mut and rak deserve better overall #as do fort and peat

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pupsmailbox · 9 months ago

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ROYALTY︰FANCY ID PACK

NAMES︰ adalinda. adam. adela. adelaide. adelio. adrienne. agnes. aladdin. alaric. alasdair. albert. alexander. alexandra. alexandria. alice. allegra. alyssa. amadeo. amelia. anais. anastasia. andrew. angelica. anita. annabelle. anne. anneliese. anthony. antoinette. ara. arabella. archibald. archie. aricia. ariel. armel. artemis. astrid. athena. augustus. aurelia. aurora. aymeric. balder. baldr. baldur. bano. basil. beatrice. belle. benjamin. blanche. blanchesse. blanchette. bonnette. bonnie. bowesse. bowette. brendan. briar. brioc. camilla. carl. caroline. caspian. catharina. catherine. cecilia. celeste. chainesse. chainette. chainne. charles. charlotte. chelidonis. christian. claude. clemente. clementine. cleopatra. corsette. crosse. crossette. crownesse. crownette. cynfael. damita. damyanti. darius. delphine. deoch. diana. duke. duncan. eadlin. edward. eleanor. eleanora. eleanore. elisabeth. eliza. elizabeth. elsa. emmanuel. erendira. eric. esperanza. estelle. eugene. eugenie. evelyn. fang. fangesse. fangette. farsiris. felix. frederick. frederik. frille. frillesse. frillette. gabriel. gabriella. gabrielle. gearesse. gearette. george. gladys. gormlaith. grace. griffith. haakon. harry. hector. henrik. henry. ingrid. isabella. isadora. izella. james. jasmine. joachim. josephine. julia. julien. kiana. kingsley. lacesse. lacette. lacey. laurent. leonore. lilibet. louis. louise. lucas. lucienne. mabel. madeleine. mael. maelie. maelle. maelys. magnus. mailys. margaret. maria. marie. marina. martha. michael. montgomery. nicolas. nikolai. nina. noire. noiresse. noirette. orla. oscar. palesse. palette. pari. paris. pearlesse. pearlette. philip. primrose. prince. princer. princessa. princesse. princette. princey. princie. prinze. prinzess. prinzessa. prynce. pryncess. quille. reagan. regina. regulus. ribbonesse. ribbonette. ribbonne. richard. robin. rognvaldr. rosalina. rose. rosette. rufflesse. rufflette. sabrina. sadie. saina. sara. sarah. sarai. sebastian. sharai. sofia. sophie. soraya. steven. sverre. theodora. tzeitel. vampesse. vampette. vampie. victoria. victorianne. vincent. watchesse. watchette. william. yseult. zadie.

PRONOUNS︰ blu/blush. bonnet/bonnet. bow/bow. chain/chain. che/cher. corset/corset. count/count. cro/crown. cro/own. cross/crosses. crown/crown. crown/crowned. crowned/prince. crowned/princess. dear/dear. dress/dress. dress/dress.apple/apple. dress/dresse. elegant/elegant. eth/ethel. fluff/fluff. frill/frill. frill/frilly, frill/frilly. frilly/frilly. gear/gear. gem/gem. gold/gold. grace/grace. he/heir. he/heiress. he/hir. he/ir. heart/heart. heir/ess. heir/heir. heir/heiress. heiress/heiress. jewel/jewel. king/king. lace/lace. lo/love. lord/lord. lord/lordship. love/love. luv/luv. melody/melodie. mirror/mirror. mon/arch. night/night. no/nobili. no/noble. pale/pale. pearl/pearl. pillow/pillow. pink/pink. polish/polish. pretty/pretty. pri/ince. pri/prince. pri/princess. prin/cess. prince/prince. princess/princess. princess/princesse. princess/princesses. queen/queen. rib/ribbon. ribbon/ribbon. ro/rose. ro/royal. robe/robe. rose/rose. roy/royal. royal/royal. royal/royalty, royal/royalty. royalty/royaltie. royalty/royalty, royalty/royalty. ruffle/ruffle. shine/shine. shy/hyr. silk/silk. silver/silver. sleep/sleep. snore/snore. suit/suit. tea/tea. throne/throne. ti/ara. ti/tiara. tiara/tiara. victorian/victorian. watch/watche. yawn/yawn. zzz/zzz. ⚔. ⚜. 🏰. 👑. ��.

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frank-enweenie · 9 months ago

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𝕹𝖔𝖇𝖔𝖉𝖞 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖌𝖊𝖉𝖞

#fall out boy #pete wentz #patrick stump #joe trohman #infinity on high #andy hurley #from under the cork tree #take this to your grave #folie a deux #so much for stardust #so much for tour dust #album flash sheet #fob #fob fanart

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non-vampiric-deer · 21 days ago

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2014 Girly ID pack

/ names + neopronouns + xenogenders /

part #2 of a series of aesthetic-based ID packs. reminder that most of my info comes from the aesthetics wiki and that's where im getting these aesthetics from. im sorry if these ID packs feel like they misrepresent the aesthetics, as im not particularly deep into any of them. feel free to correct me or add into them!

Names ๋࣭ ⭑ 💗

Dove . Mint . Blossom . Sophia . Lucy . Angelina . Daphne . Madeline . Tiffany . Kat . Barbie . Rosy . Princess . Bow . Lace . Victoria . Star . Flora . Fae . Glory . Pastel . Floral . Daisy . Lily . Evelyn . Pixie . Belle . Claire . Clara . Pearl . Charm . Doll .

Neopronouns ๋࣭ ⭑💗

pink/pinks/pinkself . prin/princess/princesself . barbie/barbies/barbieself . cute/cutes/cuteself . blush/blushs/blushself . soft/softs/softself . bow/bows/bowself . fae/faes/faeself . doll/dolls/dollself . fem/fems/femself . shey/shem/shemself . comfy/comfys/comfyself . cake/cakes/cakeself . star/starbucks/starbuckself . blog/blogs/blogself . apple/apples/appleself . makeup/makeups/makeupself . pajama/pajamas/pajamaself . skirt/skirts/skirtself . celeb/celebs/celebself . chill/chills/chillself . dress/dresses/dresself . frill/frills/frillself . cupcake/cupcakes cake/cupcakeself . flower/flowers/flowerself . fluffy/fluffys/fluffyself . heel/heels/heelself . heart/hearts/heartself

Xenogenders ๋࣭ ⭑💗

everything is clickable.

cutegirlgender . tumblrgender . lacefem . polishgender . pinkgender . marshmallowgender . bowgender . femwebbic . pastelpinkgender . cupcakegender . pinkribbon . sweetcloudic . dulcigender . prettypastelic . cakegender . softgender . caramellattic . fancyperfumic . dessertic

#☆ id pack #☆ aesthetic ids #xenogender #mogai gender #mogai #mogai positivity #mogai pride #xeno flag #id pack #npt list #neoprns #neopronouns

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wolfgirlguts · 1 year ago

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Tell us more about your OCs

Yeah alright I have a lot of them. Hot girls who eat people, mostly. They just flock to me. Prey flock to me too they just don't last very long. There's exceptions, like Aspen. She's this goat I know. She's adorable. Basically a garbage can with floppy ears. Girl can eat anything. She cleans my apartment sometimes. Perfect job for her. Just eats the whole garbage bag when she's done filling it. That sounds gross but like. It's pretty hot actually.

#prin howls #asked and answered #prin's pack #prin's pack: aspen #object vore

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woso-dreamzzz · 5 months ago

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Natalia III

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: Talia reflects on your relationship

The first time Talia ever saw you, was on tv.

She was hunkered down in Patri's apartment avoiding going home to her parents because she knew that they would make her clean her room. A random Swedish league match was playing and she'd looked up from her phone to see you make a daring save that kept your team in the title race.

The commentator called you 'Linköping's young talent' and Talia had searched you up on the internet. She also briefly stalked your socials but came to the conclusion that you didn't really post much.

She didn't know what it was about you but you kept her interest. You seemed sweet enough in interviews, if a little nervous, and you looked especially sweet when your first stop after a match ended was to your parents.

Then, she met you on the youth teams.

It had been a while since Denmark and Spain had played against each other, longer than either of you had been on the teams.

Talia was excited to put your skills to the test and, maybe, to impress you with her skills too.

You were nervous when she approached you at the end of the match, oblivious to her flirting and teasing and to the way her eyes glanced down at your lips when you spoke and the way that she wouldn't stop touching you in ways that weren't friendly at all.

But, still, she had gotten your number and you had taken her out on a date that you didn't know was a date.

It was perfect, even if your parents were hunkered down at the back and very clearly trying to eavesdrop.

Youth teams don't guarantee a professional career though and Talia hopes that you and her will be the ones that make it despite the odds. She knows she's good. She's a great striker and she knows you're good too. You're a great keeper.

She just knew you'd both make it professional.

Talia signs for Barcelona's first team and you leave Linköping and Sweden for Arsenal and England.

Soon, you're abandoning Talia in the youth teams to take your rightful place in Sweden's senior team.

It's easier to get a hold of senior team matches so Talia has a much easier time watching you. You hold your own against the adults and, while you don't play as often as the other keepers, you still thrive and Talia's desperate to solidify her spot in the senior team to face you again.

You win things at Arsenal and Talia wins things at Barcelona.

She's not yet broken into the Spain senior team. Their front line is packed with talent and Natalia has yet to prove herself better than any of them.

The World Cup comes and goes and she's still in Spain, training her skills as you win the greatest football tournament in the world by your own two feet.

Then, you join Barcelona and Talia can't help herself.

The playful flirting she used to engage in goes into overdrive. You're oblivious though and it's just part of your charm.

It drives her crazy in the best way possible until that night in the club is the spark that ignites your relationship.

Now, though, you're in her bed.

She can hold you at night and play with you during the day and take Prins out for a walk with you in the evening.

You're in her bed and you're in her life as her girlfriend.

She's been to visits to Sweden with you and had long talks with your mothers. Your relationship was strong and stable and survived the year you went to France and all those times that Sweden had crushed Spain on the international level.

Sweden is going through a golden age of players and it's intimidating.

But you're at the helm, the one leading all of those talented youngsters, the one that opened the coach's eyes to what happens when young talent is brought into the squad as soon as possible.

You groan. "Talia?" Your eyes flutter open. "Are those my parents making all that noise?"

She had been ignoring that.

Your mothers were visiting and it sounded like they were rummaging through the kitchen if the banging of pots and pans were anything to go off.

"Yes," She says with a wince," I think so."

You groan, turning over and burying your face in Talia's chest. "Can we just ignore-"

There's a long string of swear words as a loud clatter of pans falling echoes around the house. Prins joins in and barks up a storm.

"Nevermind," You say," I'm up."

Your kitchen is a mess.

"Nothing is where it should be!" Magda's complaining as Pernille gingerly tries to put things back.

"This isn't your house," You say with a teasing huff," We organise things a different way."

"Your Morsa was trying to make breakfast," Pernille says," She's forgotten that breakfast was never her speciality."

"We can go and grab breakfast." Talia comes out of the bedroom, fully dressed and pulling her hair back. "I've already ordered something."

The way she's said it makes you frown and you miss the way Magda and Pernille's eyes light up in delight at what she says.

"I'll come." What's even weirder is Magda is the one that offers. Morsa is still in that phase where she's pretending to hate absolutely everything about Talia, at least to her face so it's strange that she's having some one-on-one time with your girlfriend.

"Oh," You say with a frown," Give me a second. I'll put on my-"

"No," Pernille cuts you off quickly," Let those two get it. We can tidy up this kitchen."

"Oh...er...okay. I guess?"

Talia loves that you're oblivious. She's been dropping hints all week and the week before. She'd asked you specific questions and said very specific things but you're none the wiser about her true intentions.

To you, it just seems like Talia's picked up a sudden interest in rings.

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #the big adventures universe

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thatliminal-wanderer · 6 months ago

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Sidon (The Legend of Zelda) ID Pack

Requested by Anon

Names

Aban, Aine, Aliza, Alizah, Allegra, Ameer, Amir, Amiri, Angel, Arnav, Barindra, Basil, Beatrice, Bliss, Blythe, Brendon, Bronze, Bull, Douglas, Dusky, Fara, Farah, Frieda, Grey, Hallie, Harshavardhan, Harshil, Jatasya, Jeevika, Jewel, Jocelyn, Joy, Kaemon, Kalea, Kunwar, Kuvaya, Lemon, Leroy, Letita, Lvanish, Mako, Malik, Mandharti, Manichara, Mirza, Moana, Moses, Nadish, Namazzi, Nandini, Nandita, Nesan, Ninad, Nirvelli, Nixie, Panav, Paramanyu, Prahlad, Preenz, Prins, Pygmy, Radman, Raj, Ranen, Ray, Reef, Reginald, Rex, Rey, Rian, Rory, Roy, Royce, Sagarika, Salil, Soneera, Sultan, Tawny, Thalia, Thresher, Tiburon, Tiger, Tish, Toyesh, Udadhi, Udaka, Vaarin, Vladimir, Wainani, Yuvaraj

Pronouns

aqua/aquas, boing/boings, cheer/cheers, coral/corals, fin/fins, foam/foams, fun/funs, gem/gems, gill/gills, glee/glees, gold/golds, great/greats, hammer/hammers, heir/heirs, jew/jewelry/jewelries, jewel/jewels, joy/joys, king/kings, ocean/oceans, pearl/pearls, prince/princes, red/reds, regal/regals, royal/royals, salt/salts, scale/scales, sea/seas, shark/sharks, speed/speeds, stream/streams, swim/swims, tide/tides, tooth/tooths, water/waters, wave/waves, wet/wets, 🌊/🌊s, 🔱/🔱s, 🔴/🔴s, 🦈/🦈s

Titles

The (Prince/King) of The Zora, The (Princely/Kingly) Shark, The Fast Swimming (Prince/King), The One Of Scales and Joy, The Red-hued Shark, The Royal Shark, The Sage That Is Always Ecstatic, The Sage That Looks Like a Shark, [prn] Who Tries To See The Good

Genders

Aecoraromic, Affectisharkic, Aquacéan, Aquaprincic, Creauterrelle, Leonic, Mascsharkgender, Moonlongarine, Nautishellgender, Playfulprincegender, Priaqua, Prifish, Princelexic, Priseaic, Redgender, Sharkboygender, Sharkgender, Sillysharkgender, Waterelementic, Whimsiaquata, Zoragender

Other mogai

Prince Omninoun, Princestelic, Princevesi, Shark Omninoun, Sharkperspesque, Sharkvior

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whisperofthehxart · 2 years ago

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You’re On Your Own

Late Spring 1/?

2/?

Warnings: no rin only pompompurin

Word Count: ~3300

By twenty-three you’ve graduated from university and have found a cushy office job in Shibuya.

With adulthood you’ve settled into a nice routine:

Mornings include a stop to your favorite coffee shop two blocks away from your train stop. Work goes from 8:30 am until 5:43 pm, after which you go to the gym, you catch the 7:04 pm train home. Dinner is a lonesome affair where you always cook enough to pack for lunch the next day.

On some weekdays there are invitations to go out with your coworkers or an old college friend that has come into town.

Saturdays are designated ‘adventure days’ picking a new spot to explore spot in the city. It provides equal opportunity to people watch and spend time alone (unless you’ve gone out of your way to invite a friend to join).

It’s how you find yourself playing arcade games and attempting (and succeeding) to beat the highest scores of whatever game you find interesting. You’re currently halfway through your fourth game (only 536 points short of the high score) when you see two figures a few machines down.

Approaching the next level of your game, you opt to ignore them. Until they come closer, that is.

They’ve each taken presence at your shoulders, peering over at your progress.

They must think themselves unnoticeable and are likely waiting for you to lose before speaking to you.

Undeterred, you confront them while still moving the joycons in the correct order.

“Can I help you?”

“Sorry to bother you —” the one on your left starts.

“It was you, wasn’t it,” his friend cuts him off.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” your last word punctuated by the mashing of a button.

You’ve beaten the high score with your last move and decide to stop playing.

“You’re ‘PRIN’.”

His tone lame and bored, pulls a smile out of you. You recall the previous first place usernames of the few games you’ve played.

“You must be ‘BONO’, nice to meet you,” you tease finally turning around to face both boys.

Bono stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head, while Bono’s friend looks at least slightly embarrassed.

“It’s actually supposed to be ‘PURIN’ for Pompompurin, but you know.”

You shrug your shoulders in explanation and follow up with your name, properly introducing yourself.

“I’m Isagi and this—,” the one formerly on your left gestures over to Bono,“is Nagi.”

Bono cuts straight to the chase.

“Well Purin, it’s the first time I see your name around here. What are you up to?”

You can’t help but snort.

Is he serious?

“Well, clearly I’m conspiring to dethrone you,” your tone is teasing and light.

You explain that it’s your first time at the arcade and you’re enjoying a day off.

And Bono realizes that you aren’t a serious gamer and are no threat to the rest of his standings.

He simply hums in response.

Isagi’s shoulders have dropped, relaxing after he sees that you’ve not taken offense to his friend’s attitude.

“How did you get so good at them?” Isagi asks.

“A college friend of mine was pretty into coding video games, old and new. Taught me to identify patterns.”

That piques Nagi’s interest, he’d never thought of approaching his games from a coding perspective.

A lull in the conversation settles before Nagi breaks it.

“Yoichi, you can go ahead and get lunch without me.”

“Um, but we’re supposed to meet up with the rest of —”

“Tell them I’ll be late.”

Frustration crosses the blue-eyed boy’s face.

“You promised last time it wouldn’t happen next time. This is next time.”

You’re a spectator to what might be one of the oddest interactions in human history.

“But—”

“No, we already agreed.”

It’s like watching a parent explain to a young child why they can’t have a toy.

Isagi sighs.

Nagi pouts as he pulls his phone out of pocket and throws his phone in your direction.

You barely manage to catch it as you stare at it.

Another sigh escapes Isagi along with a, “fucking hell”.

Now it’s your turn to stare at Bono as if he’s grown a second head.

“What am I supposed to with this?”

The full grown man before you stomps his foot and crosses his arms, shyly looking away.

“Can I have your number?’

Oh.

Isagi looks as shocked as you feel.

You’re not quite sure what is it that possesses you to agree, but you do.

“Um, sure.”

“Just put in your contact info, I’ll put you under Pompompurin.”

You hand Nagi his phone, a smile on both of your faces.

Isagi, pulled out of his confused stupor checks the time.

“We better get going. It was nice to meet you.”

“Likewise Isagi.”

Both men turn around and walk out, before you’re out of earshot Nagi shouts back.

“See you around, Purin.”

You can only respond in kind.

“Bye Bono!”

—

You exchange short texts with Nagi throughout the next two weeks.

You learn several things during this time:

1. It is confirmed, that while Pompompurin does in fact best suits your personality; Gudetama best fits Nagi.

2. Nagi is least likely to respond while you’re commuting to work, but most likely to respond once you’re on your way home. He says that while you’re going to work, he’s managed to fit in his workout and is taking his first nap of the day.

3. Nagi, though seemingly lazy and unmotivated, has a competitive streak so fierce that you can’t help but admire him for it.

and most importantly,

4. Nagi wants your help to destroy all the 2-player arcade game records that he hasn’t been able to beat.

It’s such a funny idea, you can’t help but agree.

You meet Nagi the following Saturday, he wastes no time directing you over to the first game.

Little to no conversation is shared between you. Anything that slips is a compliment or a suggestion.

You lose the game the first three times. On the fourth attempt, the two of you have synced up your in-game movements.

It takes nearly an hour, but you both finally achieve the high score.

“What’s our team name going to be?”

You think for a second.

“How about ‘GUDEPRIN’?”

Lazy pudding.

Nagi punches in the name in agreement.

For three months Saturdays and Sundays have become dedicated for hanging out with Nagi.

Occasionally, Isagi drops by with a second friend of theirs to whisk him away for some other planned meeting. On such days, you leave ready to follow some other possible adventure (or the scent of food if you’re hungry).

However, today is different.

Isagi and his friend, who has introduced himself as Bachira, linger as you play with Nagi.

You chalk it up to the oncoming summer heat, Isagi and Bachira must be seeking refuge from the sun.

Conversation flows between four of you and you finally gather to courage to ask, “How d’you all meet each other?”

A look is shared between them.

“Club sport,” their voices in unison.

“Ah, so you all kept it up after college?”

Isagi is the first one to respond, “Something like that.”

“What spo—”

Nagi cuts you off.

“We ought to head out.”

The transition pulls you away, yet you take note of the suspicious nature.

“Of course, see you next week?”

The question is directed for all of them.

“Actually… Purin,” Bachira sweetly speaks “wanna join us for a meal?”

“When exactly?”

“Right now, of course.”

It’s punctuated by such an innocent laugh that you almost believe there’s something reasonable about it

“I wouldn’t want to interfere.’

“No, it’s fine. It would just be us,” Isagi amends.

“Would’ya mind?”

Unsure if Nagi would be alright with your interference.

Nagi finally speaks up,“No, Reo pays anyways.”

Oh, okay. Thanks Reo (whoever you are).

Isagi spills the truth first.

“Professional.”

The words bounce around the corners of your mind as you mull on the conversation while safely in the confines of your apartment.

“Blue Lock”

You elect to not search their names, you’re sure that if and when you do you’d most likely have to face some other reality about a past you left behind.

“Striker.”

Some part of you feels like an idiot for not recognizing them.

Surely, you’d caught some glimmer of their face years ago.

However, Nagi hadn’t been exactly caught up on that.

“It’ve been such a hassle if you started acting differently.”

He was right, it would have.

Your phone pings from the other side of the couch, pulling you from your daze.

UNKOWN:

(=^·ｪ·^=)

You don’t even to respond to find out who’s on the other end.

It’s Bachira.

You see Nagi, Isagi, and Bachira only a handful of times after the reveal.

Eventually, they leave to Europe for their pre-season training.

You return to your previous weekend schedule of exploring Tokyo. Sometimes passing by the arcade if you’re in the area (you tell yourself it's just to make sure you’re holding on to your rankings).

Maybe you miss your new friends a bit more than you let on.

“It’s a practice match.”

You hum along to Bachira’s comments over the group facetime.

“In Spain then?”

“Germany,” Isagi chimes.

“That’s what makes it so great, you’d come and see us all!”

Bachira seems delighted at the prospect while Nagi doesn’t say anything at all. You can see his phone in hand at the corner of his screen.

With golden week approaching, the game perfectly coincides with your time off.

The idea sits in the air for a moment.

“I’ll think about it, just give me-”

“Purin, what’s your legal name.”

Was Nagi even paying attention to the conversation?

You respond before continuing your half-assed excuses.

“I might have some things to catch up on.”

“We understand, we thought we might extend the offer anyways.”

Your phone vibrates on your desk, you glance at the new email notification.

‘FLIGHT RESERVATION’

Nagi.

Your slack jaw must be a bit more obvious than you’d want.

Bachira and Isagi are about to voice their concerns.

“Reo paid.”

And once they see your pout, the dots connect.

Bachira cheers, Isagi laughs, and Nagi continues playing on his phone.

“D’you know much about soccer?”

Isagi and you are in the stands waiting for Nagi and two of his teammates.

“Mmm, yeah a bit. I was really into it before high school.”

Of course, you want to tell him about the piles of jerseys in your parents’ house and your collectible cards that you started collecting around five. But that’s a can of worms you're not ready to open.

“What made you stop?”

“Oh, well. It was just a bit hard to keep up with.”

It’s not technically a lie.

“What about you, what made you such an ‘egoist’?”

You’d heard the term tossed around by Bachira once and decided to give it a try.

Isagi seems surprised at your question, but it brings a smile on his face.

“Blue Lock. I met so many amazing people. It just makes me want more and more.”

The far off lock in his eyes a clear indicator that he’s shifted off to some specific memory.

Part of you is jealous.

Jealous not of his success, but his courage to follow after his desire and his ability to keep up with it.

“That’s very admirable ‘sagi.”

The moment ends when Nagi finally comes along trailing after who you assume to be Reo and Chigiri.

Reo and Chigiri introduce themselves.

“And this is Purin,” Nagi speaks before you even have the chance to open your mouth.

Bono is only saved by the fact that the teams have walked onto the field.

Watching Bachira play is indescribable.

You feel your heart thrumming in your chest and chills flare on your arms.

“He’s good, right?” Chigiri’s question is redundant.

You dumbly nod your head along.

His aura is childlike but sophisticated. His play style is chaotic and free; somehow it all makes sense.

He’s a monster.

You must say it out loud because Chigiri is soon laughing, “Something like that.”

When was the last time you’d been so excited?

After returning to your hotel room that night, you lie awake in bed for hours staring at the ceiling until the first rays of sun begin to filter through the room.

The return home is lackluster.

You soon pick up your regular schedule and meet with your college friend, Aoi, who asks you about your recent vacation.

You show her the photos of your tourist visits, describe the foreign foods, and mention the game.

Aoi points out that she’s never seen you so excited about something.

“Not when you found out that Daisuke liked you back,”

“when your project got picked for that conference”

and

“not even when you won that raffle for a trip to that fancy ryokan!”

You grumble at her ability to recall such specific moments.

Back off my case, I wasn’t that bad.

“But, I’m happy for you.”

Aoi’s words make you feel lighter, the smile on her face proof of her genuineness.

“Thanks.”

As winter approaches, you’re beginning to have to hound off your parents’ calls.

With some experience you know the line of questioning usually starts innocent enough. Usually something along the lines of:

“Have you been well?”

“I am, how about you two?”

They’ll ignore your response before following up with more questions.

“When will you next visit?”

“Once I’m on winter holiday, I might also be able to take off an extra day or two.”

Which will then lead into more dangerous territory:

“Are you and Daisuke back together?”

“No, we haven’t talked in quite a bit.”

And after the reminder they’ll transition to something else.

“I see, well are you dating anyone?”

“No.”

“Oh, okay.”

Your parents’ objective is not to judge, but it seems that they’ve just never known the right questions to ask.

So, when you blindly answer your phone on a Sunday evening you make the mistake of assuming it could only be your mother on the other end.

“Mom, can I get back to you? I’m doing laundry and my hands are kinda full right now.”

Once you hear the laughter you heave a sigh of relief.

“Sorry about that ‘sagi, thought it was my mom.”

He’s half-chuckling when he responds.

“No worries, sorry if I scared you,” his teasing tone indicating he might understand your situation.

“A little, but I’ll live. What’s up?”

With that Isagi shares his proposal for a New Years get together.

“We all miss you and there’s some others who’d like to meet you.”

“Oh, um sure. In Tokyo?”

He confirms your suspicions.

“I can send more information after Christmas.”

When you finally arrive to your parent’s home, the winter sun has begun to set and you can see your breath come out in small puffs as you wait on the porch for your parents to open the door.

It’s your father that opens it for you, greeting you and pulling you inside and away from the elements. A short second is provided to put down your bags and remove your shoes and coat before he’s hugging you.

You slowly take it all in.

If the scent down the hall is anything to go by, your mother has made your favorite meal.

Your father mumbles his greetings and squeezes you a bit harder for just a second.

Once you finally pull away, your father kindly informs you that you have guests. It’s only then that you count the three extra pairs of shoes by the entrance.

Oh.

“They’ll be happy to see you, it’s been quite some time.”

He’s smiling, both glad to see you and surprise you.

Your father has you lead the way almost as if knowing that you’d turn and run depending on the faces you see.

Your only option must be to act as nonchalant as possible.

“Mom, I’m home.”

You announce, your voice carrying throughout your home.

You can hear her cheer from the living room. Similar to your father, you're hardly given the chance to take in your surroundings before she’s pulled you into a warm hug. One which you return with equal gusto.

Despite her company, she presses a kiss to your forehead (just as she did when you were a child).

And when she pulls away, you see them. The Itoshi family… minus Rin.

You’ve not seen the Itoshi parents in nearly two years when your own parents had planned a small celebration for your hiring. Sadly, you had to move into your new apartment sooner than expected. All you had was a few minutes to greet them before having to say goodbye in the same conversation.

Time, however, has not changed the smiles they wear when looking at you. Before you know it, both mother and father pull you in for another set of hugs.

And Sae.

Well, you hadn’t heard from him since you were twelve.

The last time you saw him was when you watched his U-20 matches, right before you and Rin stopped talking.

And here he is, just 3 feet away from you.

Why is he here?

Why didn’t he ever call?

Did he know what happened?

Did he ever actually care?

You have so many questions.

“You’ve grown.”

It’s the only thing you can manage to say.

He smirks and raises an eyebrow almost as if asking you, “Really, is that all you have?”

“So have you.”

The Itoshi family is invited to stay over for dinner. Conversation is guided by the parents’, each set taking their turn to pull their children in.

And it seems that its your turn in the hot seat when your mother mentions your name and your trip to Germany.

The Itoshis all seem equally intrigued.

“Oh, yes. I went to visit some friends during golden week.”

“What did you do?” Mrs. Itoshi is eager to hear about your adventures.

“The usual tourist activities. Visited the gardens, museums, and a few restaurants.”

Mr. Itoshi takes a turn, “Was it college friends then?”

“No, I’ve erm—” you trip on your own words, “I’ve some new friends that work abroad.”

You’d mentioned Nagi and company to your parents, but you’d never actually told them that they were professional players in the European league.

“Catch any games?”

Sae has his head resting on his palm while he asks. It must be a mandatory punchline for someone so obsessed with sport.

“I did.”

His eyes widen ever so slightly. Why was he so surprised?

“I was invited by a few friends to watch the FC Barca game. And so, I went.”

Sae’s head no longer rests on his hand, he’s intently looking at you.

You continue to address the rest of the table, “Nagi, my friend, is actually a professional player and we were there to support a friend of ours.”

Something akin to recognization flits through everyone’s eyes.

A shroud of silence fills the room.

You’re sure it’ll suffocate you —

“That’s so sweet of you!”

Mrs. Itoshi saves the day.

Your families decide to take tea after their meal.

“I can get everything ready,” you offer taking any excuse to step away and breathe.

You’re halfway to the kitchen when you hear Sae speak up.

“I’ll go help.”

As you maneuver around the kitchen in silence Sae catches up and leans against the counter opposite you.

You’re reaching for your mom’s favorite teapot on the second shelf when he decides to speak up.

“You haven’t spoken to Rin in some time.”

Shit.

It nearly slips from your fingers.

You stare at the intricate patterns on the teapot in your hands for a second.

“Does it matter?”

Your question is sincere.

“Yes.”

You measure out the leaves now.

“Why?”

Out of the corner of his eye you can see him shrug.

“Just figured you’d keep each other around.”

While I wasn’t there.

It’s not difficult to the read between the lines.

“I thought so too,” you confess.

You pour the hot water into the tea pot now and organize the set so it all fits on the tray.

And as you walk out you remind Sae, “We don’t always get what we want.”

That same night Rin is packing his bags for his trip to Japan when he receives a text from his brother.

SAE:

‘you’re an idiot’

#bllk x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock #itoshi rin x reader

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