#sullen-wise

[butterymangowrites]

dad thief

paring: dabi / todoroki touya x fem reader

warnings: smut, non-con/dub-con, cum eating, creampie, childhood friends to enemies to whatever this is, obsessive dabi, possessive dabi, jealousy, non-con filming, blackmail, endeavor is a shitty dad but you both have daddy issues, child abuse, domestic violence, hate sex

word count: 2.5k

Even captured by one of the most dangerous villains in Japan, you still had the audacity to smirk. He wanted so much to wipe it off your face, make you sullen, make you regret. You had always been a pain in the ass, a bitch, and a dad thief.

—

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked. 

What Touya saw was you, a girl his age whom he had been friends with for a while now, wearing an Endeavor’s T-shirt two times your size. “That’s my dad on your shirt.”

“I know.” You smirked, didn’t tell him you stole it from someone, just like all the merches you had at home because you couldn’t afford to buy one. “He’s my fav hero after all.”

Having a fire quirk, you related so much to the number 2 hero. Meeting Touya was the best coincidence you could ever hope for.

But Touya hated it, your quirk was powerful, not more than his, but so much more stable. At Least you didn’t get burnt every time you tried to use it. His dad looked at you like you were a gift from God, given to him to replace his own incompetent children. You had become Endeavor’s favorite in such a short time. 

—

“So you’re still my dad’s simp,” the white haired villain said, looking at you from an old couch where he lay down, shirtless, his torso patched up with staples holding burnt skins to the body so they didn’t fall off. He looked like a doll that the owner didn’t want to throw away and chose to keep repairing. 

“Rich coming from someone with daddy issues.” Standing at his feet, you peered down at him. He had changed a lot, appearance-wise. Half of his face was burnt and stapled just like his body. With black hair, piercings, and impassive demeanor, he became someone else entirely, fooling everyone even his own family—he became Dabi. But those eyes, those were Touya’s eyes. “That was a desperate act back there, airing the plot twist on tv and shit.” 

It was amazing how quickly you got on his nerves. Dabi pounced from the couch and grabbed you by the neckline of your hero costume. You staggered forward from his pull but let him drag you to the couch and down onto him who now had his head back on the armrest. His hands adjusted your legs to straddle his waist, positioning you to his heart’s content. Your skin-tight suit was for sure fireproof; yet, you still felt heat emitted from the bare skin of Dabi’s naked torso. 

Seeing him face to face this close, you couldn’t help but tease your childhood friend a tad. “Fuck, you’re ugly. No wonder your dad didn’t remember you.” 

“This mouth of yours,” Dabi tsked, placing his index finger on your hot lips, “fucking needs to be shut.” 

He lifted the finger from your lips to point to the opposite side of the couch where a TV should be if there was one. Instead, there was a camcorder set up on a tripod, an ominous red dot blinking rhythmically. 

“It’s recording us,” Dabi said. “I’m gonna fuck you on it.” 

“Tsk, tsk. What happened to dates and dinners?”

His expression shifted dangerously. And you yelped, loud, when he suddenly snaked his hand around to unzip your suit from the back. 

“Touya, knock it off!” You swatted his hand. But too late, you already felt the suit loosen. 

“As I was saying,” Dabi continued, “I’m gonna film us fuck.” 

Heat crawled onto your back when he slipped his hand under the open suit and started to skim around. 

“But since I’m a generous man, I’m giving you two choices.” He tapped on your back once before saying, “Be a good girl and I’m keeping the footage”—he tapped twice—“or not, and I’m sending it to Endeavor’s office so he can see his favorite intern getting dicked up, down, six ways to Sunday by his eldest son.” 

His body heated up a little more; you knew it was from excitement. 

“Do you think you’ll still be his favorite after that? I don’t think so if you asked me.” 

You were… speechless.  

“Come on, am I really ugly?” He nudged his face against yours, which was so Touya of him. “I’ve heard people say I’m still hot, baby.” 

“Yeah, hot like the fire that burnt you this bad,” you countered.

He guffawed. “So, what will it be?” 

You thought about burning him, burning this whole place down, but your flame was no match for his. Having experienced what he could do firsthand on the battlefield, you would not withstand his flame—you would die. 

Contrary to his belief, you were not Endeavor’s favorite. That spot belonged to Shoto since the day he was born. Touya was just dumb and blinded by jealousy and prejudice to actually see it. You were nothing compared to Shoto—you and Touya were nothing compared to the half-hot half-cold prodigy. But Touya was not totally wrong, you still wanted to be his dad’s number 1, not wanting to disappoint the only man you considered a father figure.

But fuck if you didn’t hate Touya. “I’m not choosing shit.”

So he chose for you, tongue plunging down your throat while his cock drove in and out of your cunt. Standing in front of the camera, Touya stood behind you with his scarred arms around your midsection, forcing your whole body tight against him. Every short thrust made your breasts jiggle and eyes roll. The camcorder got it all—the visual, the sound. Even with Touya’s kiss shutting you up, you weren’t really silenced. And without it, you were loud. 

“Fuck baby, you like it that much?”

You would have closed your mouth if your hands weren’t stuck in his suffocating embrace. “Not—that good.”

Touya chuckled. “Yeah?”

He quickened the pace, and your brain almost shut itself down. 

“Stop,” you cried, legs starting to shake. That was when he really stopped. That dickhole.  

“This is what bad girls get.” He said, withdrawing his cock but still not releasing you from his clasp. When he walked back to the couch, he hauled you with him like a child hauling a big bag of toys to his secret lair. 

Guiding you to sit on him—again—you still faced the camcorder. 

“Dad, are you watching? Look at me. Am I doing good?” One of his hands mapped a path up to fondle your tits, switching left and right to pay his utmost attention into making you squirm out of your human seat. 

But he didn’t plan to let you go. His other free hand jerked his cock once, twice, before rubbing it on your still-wet pussy. No one was gonna believe you did not want this. Endeavor would not. 

“Have you fucked her yet? Do you want to?” He grinned against your temple. 

You swore out a soft ‘fuck’ when his cock eased its way in. It was burnt, too. Not as bad that it had to be patched up, but you could feel the bumpy texture against your moist walls.

“You know my dad is an abusive bastard, right? Fucking neglecting his own wife and children. He beat mom, too, have you heard? Did he have the guts to tell you that?” he said, tilting your head up so you could see him looking down at you. You were so hot he prayed his dad hadn’t touched you, he might never let him, too good of a pussy to share. 

“He’s not a good replacement for your scumbag of a father, trust me.” 

—

“I can do that, too,” you said from behind the bush you had been hiding, starling the boy you directed the sentence to. He jumped. You laughed. You had been watching him practice for almost half an hour. He looked sort of tired now. 

“Look,” you said before doing the same trick you saw him do, making a flame dance on one hand and moving it to the other hand like you were juggling a ball. 

He frowned, not looking very impressed, but didn’t take his eyes off you. 

That was the first day you met Touya—making friends with him—and after that, coming out to meet him almost every day. Soon after, you got to meet his family. Your eyes almost bugged out of their sockets when you saw who his dad was. 

The big man spared you only a glance when Touya first introduced you to him. The second glance, however, came after Touya said you had a fire quirk. 

Shoto was only two at the time, too young for his dad’s intensive training. 

Two years later, when Endeavor asked if you wanted to train with his youngest who had just turned four and you said yes, Touya didn’t talk to you for three days. On the fourth day, he didn’t let you in when you rang the doorbell. 

“Go away, dad thief.” 

But you didn’t want to. The Todoroki house was your paradise, the highlight of your day. Since Touya brought you to his home, you had been here everyday, spending your weekdays’ after-school time and whole days on weekends playing with the Todoroki siblings—Fuyumi, Natsuo and Touya himself if he wasn’t a bitch, complaining that his sister and brother hogged you all for themselves, and leaving dramatically to play alone, expecting you to follow. 

He was possessive like that. One time, he locked you in a room to only play with him. Rei—his mom—had to use a spare key to unlock the room and scolded her eldest. 

Now, the table had turned. Since your weekdays’ playtime had turned into training sessions, Touya was shunning you. 

“Go back to your shitty father,” he said through the crack of the side door before slamming it to your face. 

He played dirty mentioning your dad like that when he was the one who followed you to your ratty excuse of a home one day and saw your dad slap you on the face for no reason. It was a low blow since he was the one who interfered just before your dad used his fire quirk on you and your mother who was trying to shield you from the oncoming flame. Despite being the one who helped you that day, he used the fact that you had one of the worst dads a child could ever ask for to hurt you. You hated him so damn much for that. 

“Just you wait, Touya. One day, I’ll really steal him from you,” you said to the closed door, knowing he was still behind it. Tears were flowing down your face, but it was alright because Touya would not see them—because he would not open the door for you, and you resented him for it. 

How… wrong you were. 

“No.” 

Just when you walked back to the hand-me-down bicycle you got from the person you were most angry at at the moment—he was kind for that; you had to admit—you heard him before you heard the door open. Wiping the tears off your face, you turned to him and haughtily asked, “No what?” 

Touya didn’t answer. His eyes were locked onto your shirt. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked.

“That’s my dad on your shirt.” 

“I know.” You smirked. “He’s my fav hero after all.”

Touya scrunched his nose, his hair that used to be red at the ends was now full white. Then all of a sudden, he jumped you. 

You shrieked. It must have been a jaw-dropping scene for a passerby if there had been one—two 12-year-old children grabbing each other’s hair on the floor, fighting with their little hands. 

“Get off me!!” you screamed, but Touya who successfully got on top of you just laughed maniacally. Looking back, he sounded a bit too psychotic for a child. 

He shouted into your ear, “Dad is mine! Dad is mine!” 

From the corner of your eyes, you saw someone’s feet. 

“Touya-nii! Stop!” It was Fuyumi. “Mom, help!” 

The hands in your hair didn’t relent one bit despite the call for an adult who was soon surely going to rip his ears off if he didn’t get off you, but he did quiet down. 

“You’re mine, too,” he said softly into the ear he was shouting into before. “Dad’s not home today. Let’s play. You and me, okay? No Fuyumi-chan and Natsuo-kun. Just you and me.” 

The next thing you knew, he was pulled off you by his mother. Touya didn’t shed a tear when Rei spanked him in the ass, asking why he did that to you. She told him to apologize. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You knew he wasn’t. But he sounded genuine enough Rei let him off with only a one-week-no-tv punishment.

—

To you, he had been… off since that day. Today, he was full-blown unhinged. 

Your legs were spread wide over his own open ones, basically preventing you from trying to close them and hide your fucked pussy from the camcorder. His hands were busy, one grasping at your waist for leverage while the other circling over your clit. You were all bare to the camera with Touya’s cock ramming in and out, concentration drifting like smoke in the wind, so close to coming. 

“Such a good cunt. I’ll fuck it everyday”—he panted—“come in it. You can count on me.” 

“Don’t—” 

“I’ll be a good boyfriend. Will never fucking stray,” he prattled on. “Won’t hit you. Won’t be like dad. You’ll see.” 

You tried to hold it, but the hand on your clit just didn’t stop, pushing you to the top and making your hips buck up uncontrollably Touya had to push you down so his dick didn’t slip out. You felt the throbbing when he spilled inside. The little shit really did it—he creamed your pussy. 

“Want a taste?” Touya proposed, his hands spreading and closing your pussy to see the white thick cream dripping out. 

“Don’t be disgusting.” 

“Bet you drink his cum just to please him.” 

“I never fucked your dad, you villain scum.” 

“Mmmm.” You turned your head just in time to see Touya licking his fingers clean. When he saw you look, the menace put his tongue out to show his own cum on it. You knew what he would do next without a word being said and tried to turn away, but Touya grabbed your cheeks, stilling you, then he squeezed to force your mouth open.

His tongue invaded, feeding you his cum, and ending with a kiss. He took his time, like he had a lot on his hands, making sure you swallowed every drop. 

“Not even sucking his dick?” He continued questioning you. 

“No, you sicko.” You felt your body temperature rising, quirk activating, but didn’t let the fire come out. 

“Bet you thought about it, dad thief.” 

“Bet YOU thought about it, obsessive patchy bitch.” 

He laughed with his whole chest, shaking your whole body with it. “Guess we both ain’t shit, baby.”

[apoemaday]

Eurydice

by Carol Ann Duffy

Girls, I was dead and down in the Underworld, a shade, a shadow of my former self, nowhen. It was a place where language stopped, a black full stop, a black hole Where the words had to come to an end. And end they did there, last words, famous or not. It suited me down to the ground.

So imagine me there, unavailable, out of this world, then picture my face in that place of Eternal Repose, in the one place you’d think a girl would be safe from the kind of a man who follows her round writing poems, hovers about while she reads them, calls her His Muse, and once sulked for a night and a day because she remarked on his weakness for abstract nouns. Just picture my face when I heard -- Ye Gods -- a familiar knock-knock at Death’s door.

Him. Big O. Larger than life. With his lyre and a poem to pitch, with me as the prize.

Things were different back then. For the men, verse-wise, Big O was the boy. Legendary. The blurb on the back of his books claimed that animals, aardvark to zebra, flocked to his side when he sang, fish leapt in their shoals at the sound of his voice, even the mute, sullen stones at his feet wept wee, silver tears.

Bollocks. (I’d done all the typing myself, I should know.) And given my time all over again, rest assured that I’d rather speak for myself than be Dearest, Beloved, Dark Lady, White Goddess etc., etc.

In fact girls, I’d rather be dead.

But the Gods are like publishers, usually male, and what you doubtless know of my tale is the deal.

Orpheus strutted his stuff.

The bloodless ghosts were in tears. Sisyphus sat on his rock for the first time in years. Tantalus was permitted a couple of beers. The woman in question could scarcely believe her ears.

Like it or not, I must follow him back to our life -- Eurydice, Orpheus’ wife -- to be trapped in his images, metaphors, similes, octaves and sextets, quatrains and couplets, elegies, limericks, villanelles, histories, myths…

He’d been told that he mustn’t look back or turn round, but walk steadily upwards, myself right behind him, out of the Underworld into the upper air that for me was the past. He’d been warned that one look would lose me for ever and ever.

So we walked, we walked. Nobody talked.

Girls, forget what you’ve read. It happened like this -- I did everything in my power to make him look back. What did I have to do, I said, to make him see we were through? I was dead. Deceased. I was Resting in Peace. Passé. Late. Past my sell-by date… I stretched out my hand to touch him once on the back of the neck. Please let me stay. But already the light had saddened from purple to grey.

It was an uphill schlep from death to life and with every step I willed him to turn. I was thinking of filching the poem out of his cloak, when inspiration finally struck. I stopped, thrilled. He was a yard in front. My voice shook when I spoke -- Orpheus, your poem’s a masterpiece. I’d love to hear it again…

He was smiling modestly, when he turned, when he turned and he looked at me.

What else? I noticed he hadn’t shaved. I waved once and was gone.

The dead are so talented. The living walk by the edge of a vast lake near, the wise, drowned silence of the dead.

[bekkachaos]

I wish I didn't linger on every thought

8x06 coda | 700 words

Buck goes to Eddie's so he doesn't have to be alone. They don't really talk, but they don't really need to. aka, a continuation of the final scene in 8x06

Eddie didn't get up to turn the music off, in fact he was quite enjoying it. He never really played music around the house and it had been far, far too quiet lately.

As he leant back he turned his head to look curiously at Buck. He looked like someone had dropped him in cold water and put him out on their doorstep. Then there was the way he had already finished his beer when Eddie was only halfway through.

He took another bottle from his six pack and held it up, looking back at Eddie who just shook his head and gestured to his own bottle.

Buck sighed, cracking it open and taking another long swig.

"Slow down there," Eddie said, nudging Buck's knee with his own. "You only brought six."

He smiled like he was prompting Buck to do the same, but he didn't.

"I'm sure you've got one or two in the fridge," he said instead, sullen and monotone.

"Probably," Eddie said, putting his bottle to his lips.

He bobbed his head to the song as it played, taking in a deep breath and resting his head against the back of the couch. He was trying really hard not to feel guilty for taking a moment to feel joy, to do something silly and frivolous just because he could. It felt nice, and he was going to lean into that. He had to.

He turned back to look at Buck, now with his elbows propped on his knees and his fingers peeling at the label on the bottle in his hands.

"You... want to talk about it?" he asked, watching the way Buck's lips tightened as he chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"No, not really," Buck said in that same listless voice.

He turned his eyes to Eddie, and god they were so sad. Eddie thought that maybe there might have already been tears, or that they were so glassy because he was desperately trying to hold them in. He knew when to push and when to just let him be though.

If Buck wanted to talk then he would (usually it was impossible to get him to stop), but that didn't seem to be what he needed right now.

Buck's eyebrow cocked slightly as he gave Eddie a once over look.

"Do you?" he asked.

Eddie smiled, shaking his head and letting out a low chuckle.

"Nah," he said, taking in a steadying breath. "No I'm um, I'm good."

It might be the first time in a long time that he's said that and actually meant it.

"Good," Buck nodded, turning away from him and back to the disintegrating label at his fingers.

"You want to put a movie on or something?" Eddie offered.

He didn't mind just sitting there with Buck, but he seemed like he could use something to take his mind of whatever seemed to be revolving around in his head, not to mention some company.

"Yeah," he said, lips growing soft in the corners. "That sounds good."

"Any suggestions?" Eddie asked, and Buck turned to look at him.

"Risky Business?" he said, completely straight faced.

Eddie just looked back at him a moment, holding his eyes until he saw just the hint of a sparkle, and his lips pulled up in a smile.

It was a shadow of his usual one, but it was there, it was enough to let Eddie know that he was okay, just hurting.

Eddie let out a laugh and shook his head.

"Alright wise guy," he said fondly, getting to his feet with a groan and reaching for the rest of the beers at Buck's side. "Give me those, I'll put them in the fridge, you just pick something."

He started walking towards the kitchen when he heard Buck's voice call him back.

"Hey Eddie?"

He turned, resting one hand on the wall and looking over at him with eyes that answered his soft question.

"Can I crash here tonight?" he said, eyes crinkling in the corners. "I just... kinda don't want to go back home."

Eddie's smile was warm, feeling. Seeing Buck so in need of comfort left a tugging sensation in his chest.

"Couch is all yours, anytime. You know that."

Buck let out a sharp sigh and Eddie watched just a little bit of relief flood over him.

"Thanks," he said.

Eddie just gave him a nod, watching for a moment as Buck reached for the remote before going to put the beers away, and check that he had enough in the fridge in case Buck needed just a little more.

[badwriterrr]

Aegon the conqueror inverted. 🐉

Or, none of the Targs in ASOIAF ever fight and they all get married and live happily ever after.

About the kiddos.

So In this universe I think Danny probably married Aegon first, because he would have already had the iron throne. Jon wasn’t in the picture when Rhae would have been conceived. So everyone at least knows for sure that Rhaenys is Aegon’s.

Rhaenys is pretty much her namesake/aunt come again. She’s a spitfire and always getting herself into mischief. She’s Aegon’s pride and joy, and Danny’s eternal headache.

Visenya is the second oldest, but it’s a little unclear time wise who’s her father. Danny and Jon didn’t get along at first when they first got married, and it seemed they only really slept together out of ‘duty’. It was only after Visenya was born that Jon and Danny actually started falling for each-other, at the urging of Aegon who was getting annoyed with the both of them and all their pent up sexual frustrations.

Elaena, is the curious middle child. She’s the spitting image of Danny. And a quiet little toddler who spends most of her time nuzzled against Ghost’s fur. Like Visenya, no one is exactly sure who her father is, either Jon or Aegon— but in private both king consorts quietly boast they are in fact her father.

The only boy, and Jon’s only ‘confirmed’ heir is Aemon, who was conceived whilst Aegon was away with negotiations in Essos. He is evidently a Stark in blood, and looks just like a young Jon. He’s a sullen, soft little toddler who prefers not to speak much. Thankfully for him, his three older sisters make talking rather pointless. Obviously there is the implied issue of his birthright, as the only boy against Rhaenys, the eldest daughter. But with a boy so young, and a queen regnant ruling Westeros, the issue isn’t quite a priority just yet.

[ichorai]

apple pies & break-ins ; tangerine.

pairing ; tangerine x assassin!spouse!reader (gender-neutral pronouns)

synopsis ; tangerine comes back home just as you're about to leave.

words ; 1.9k

themes ; pure fluff, mild comedy, established relationship (married), assassin au

warnings / includes ; blood/injuries/weapons, slightly suggestive, tangerine has a potty mouth, lemon cameo, tangerine being clingy and sappy

main masterlist.

The entire house smelled of cinnamon, apples, and buttery pie crust. You sliced up another apple, taking care to carve out its core, before tossing it in the sugar syrup and popping the chopped pieces of fruit into the crust to bake in the oven. As soon as you bumped the door shut with your hip, the front door creaked open, followed by a familiar jangling of keys. 

You glanced up with a warm smile, glad that your husband was finally home—except it was quick to melt away when you took in his disheveled appearance. There was blood all over him, dribbling down his hairline, splattered over his neck, staining his once-pristine clothes. 

Despite his haggard state, he sent you a tired beam, his mustache twitching with the smile. 

“‘Ello, love,” he greeted, making his way to you behind the kitchen counter. “Close your mouth, darlin’, you’ll catch flies.” With a cheeky smirk, he slotted a finger beneath your chin, effectively snapping your lips shut. He mildly winced when he noticed he accidentally left a faint print of sticky blood on your jaw, but wisely decided not to tell you.

You fixed him with an unimpressed stare. “Jesus, Tan. Is that your blood?”

“Not sure, honestly. It’s coming from all over—some of it’s bound to be mine. Don’t worry about me, love. I’m fuckin’ peachy. Speaking of, it smells really good in here. You bakin’ something for me, darling? I’m flattered,” he hummed, leaning forward to kiss you. 

Before he could, you ducked away from him, pushing his face to the side with a wrinkled nose. “Ugh, go shower first, you’re getting blood everywhere! To be honest, I would’ve felt better knowing it was yours.”

“Ouch,” he murmured, though his grin still lingered by the corner of his mouth. “You wound me, sweetheart.”

Relenting, you leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his unsuspecting lips. “There. You happy?”

“Very. Thanks, love.” He sent you a playful wink before slinking off to the bathroom, whistling a peppy tune under his breath on the way. You rolled your eyes and smiled to yourself, before turning to clean up the mess of flour and sugar and apple cores you’d made on the kitchen counter.

When your husband finally slunk out of the bathroom, a thick white towel hanging low around his waist and another ruffling at his damp curls, he made his way back into the kitchen.

“Put on some clothes, Tan,” you scoffed when he pressed against you from behind, sprinkling a bit of cinnamon sugar on the apple pie you had just taken out of the oven. 

“Hm, you don’t like me like this?” he queried, verging on a whine since you weren’t paying him the least bit of attention. “Naked and at your disposal?”

Amused, you finally turned around in his arms, trapped between him and the counter. The blue of his eyes were hooded and lustful, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. You, however, smiled sweetly at him. “You’re not naked.”

“Well, that can easily be remedied—”

Before he could reach down to undo the towel around his waist, you stopped him with your hands gripping both his wrists, quirking your brows. “As much as I’d love to, I have to call in for a job soon. I’m running late already. I was baking the pie for you in case you got back while I was gone.”

“Another job?” asked Tangerine, clearly upset at the turn of events. “Can’t you call off? I’m sure they can send another bloody assassin to do their dirty work.”

You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, before gently pushing him away so you could head off to your shared bedroom and get changed. To none of your surprise, your husband trailed along behind you like a sullen puppy. “It’s a lot of money, baby. Don’t think I could afford to keep skipping jobs just to laze around with you.”

With a disappointed grumble, Tangerine wrapped his arms around you from behind again, squeezing tightly and kissing down your neck. “How long will this one take?”

“I’ll be back tonight,” you reassured him. “Tomorrow at the very latest.”

“Alright,” he acquiesced, though not without a loud sigh. He sat down on the bed, watching as you shirked off your flour-covered shirt in favor of a dark button-up. “You remember how we first met?”

Of course you did. You remembered it as if it was yesterday. You crossed your arms, stepping in between his legs by the edge of the bed. Both of his hands went to your waist, fingers curling over your back and absentmindedly tracing loose shapes on your sides. 

Looking up at you, he spoke between pressing soft kisses along your abdomen, over the black shirt you had donned, “I was on a mission with Lemon in Madrid… and we were in a tight situation. Bullets flying everywhere, my leg fucked up, and my gun jammed. Then, whaddya know, the most beautiful fuckin’ person I’ve ever laid my eyes upon comes flying through one o’ the windows. Took out three people with one knife, and took out another four with a bloody crossbow. You looked at me, covered in blood, and asked if I was alright. I told you that you were fucking gorgeous—and then you fell in love with me, right on the spot, and the rest is history.”

You burst out into a fit of laughter. “Hm, that’s not how I remember it. Need I remind you that I shoved you to the side because you kept getting in my way, asking if I’d like to have dinner with you? Gods, Tan, you were a pain in my ass. And your brother was laughing at you.”

“Cunt,” he grumbled at the mention of his brother. “Well, even if you didn’t fall in love with me right then and there—I did. I knew I had to be yours from the moment I saw you.”

You lowered yourself to a crouch, cupping his face and caught his lips in a feverish kiss. When you pulled away, you pressed your forehead against his. “Are you telling me this because you want me to stay?”

A sheepish grin tugged at the corner of Tangerine’s lips. “Is it working?”

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’. You pulled away, slinging a packed bag over your shoulder and heading out the bedroom. “I’ll see you tomorrow, baby. Love you.”

“Wait! You said you’d come back tonight!”

True to your word, you had returned home at midnight, stumbling through the door tired and weary. Thankfully, you weren’t too banged up, just a scratch on your shoulder from the graze of a bullet that you managed to patch yourself before coming back. You were greeted with Tangerine dozing on the couch, a shitty reality show glowing on the television screen, with the half-eaten apple pie on the coffee table in front. He startled awake when you flicked his cheek with a smile.

“Hey, sleepy,” you said, dipping down to kiss his forehead, sauntering towards your bedroom to get changed.

As expected, your husband scurried off the couch to follow after you, gathering you into his arms and kissing you deeply. “I missed you,” he murmured, accent thick and lilting.

“Come on, I wanna get to sleep,” you said, tugging him to the bed with a muffled yawn.

In no time, he was curled up behind you, his large arm thrown over your waist and hand splayed out over your stomach. His nose was buried into the back of your head, unable to wipe the pleased smile off of his features.

It was relatively easy to drift to sleep, given how exhausted the two of you already were.

Not even three hours later, with the two of you already deep in slumber, there came a loud crashing from the front of the house. Someone was breaking in.

Immediately, you sat up in the bed, slipping out from beneath Tangerine’s heavy arms and the blanket. The cold air kissed your bare skin, sending a shiver spidering up your spine. You reached beneath your pillow to brandish a small emergency dagger you kept between the mattress and the headboard. Your husband also startled awake at the loud sound, eyes tired yet wide, grappling for a gun he kept beneath the bed.

“Stay in here,” he whispered, striding forward to the bedroom door, left slightly ajar.

“Like hell I am,” you quietly gruffed back, hot on his heels.

Knowing that there was no stopping you, Tangerine blew out a breath and the both of you crept closer, light on your feet. With no warning, Tan shouldered the door open and stepped out in one fluid motion, lining the gun up with the intruder.

A second later, he immediately lowered the weapon with a long string of exasperated curses. You peered over his shoulder, tense muscles loosening upon seeing Tangerine’s brother, Lemon, frozen in front of the broken window. His lips were twisted into a grimace and his eyes were as wide as saucers. There were shards of glass glimmering in his dark hair.

“What the fuck, man?” your husband erupted, immediately clicking the safety back on his gun and shoving it into the waistband of his sweats. “Are you daft? The fuck did you break my window for?”

“I was looking for you! Never heard a peep from you two after your missions. I just assumed the worst!” he exclaimed. For a moment, Lemon’s dark eyes flickered to you. “Hi, Y/N. Look lovely, by the way.”

You crossed your arms, more amused than anything. “Hey, Lemon.” 

“Why didn’t you fuckin’ call us, then? Bloody fucking idiot! Going down and breaking my window like that,” he angrily muttered, stomping forward to inspect the damage. “You’re paying for this, you twat.”

Rearing back, Lemon snarled, “Oi! I did call you! Didn’t answer your phones, the neither of you. I thought something happened! Forgive me for worrying about my brother and my in-law!”

“The fuck you mean, I would get the fucking notification if you called me!” Tangerine hissed back, pressing the heels of his palms into his sleepy eyes. After a second, he reached down into his pocket, fishing out his phone. He pressed the power button once, then twice. A third time for good measure. “Well, fuck me. It’s dead.”

You hid a smile behind your palm. You married a complete, hot-headed idiot. With an exasperated roll of your eyes, you wiggled your fingers farewell and swiftly turned, yawning as you dragged yourself back into the room. “I’m going back to bed. You two behave yourselves.”

Both of them grunted goodbyes at your departure, before immediately carrying on with their arguments.

“Why didn’t you just call Y/N?”

A long pause. Lemon's eye twitched. “Didn’t think of that, to be honest with you… What are you, a fucking halfwit? Of course I called Y/N!”

"Oh, right, yeah, Y/N does put their phone on DND before bed. Right."

"Right."

Frowning, Tangerine barked out, “Still, you’re a fuckin’ idiot, you know that? I could’ve shot you!”

“Alright, alright, calm your tits. D’you mind if I crash on your couch for the night?”

“What, are you bloody mental?” Another pause. “Alright, fine. Just take your shoes off. Don’t want you tracking mud all over the place.”

Half an hour later, Tangerine crawled back into bed, settling himself behind you. You had fallen asleep already, but shifted with a pleasant hum when he pressed a ticklish kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder. 

“Love you,” he whispered, tugging you closer to his chest. You drowsily murmured something incoherent in response, and Tangerine contentedly drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for S behind the cut; “but it’s weird that it happened twice”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Tucker! You said you’d be right back, man!” Danny appears at the top of the stairs, looking stressed and kind of freaked-out, and then immediately jerks to a stop mid-step and stares down at Superboy looking totally baffled instead. “Uh. Tucker . . . ?”

“Ta-da?” Tucker tries, and attempts jazz hands at Superboy. Like, presentation-wise and all. Superboy looks dubious, and also kind of pissy and sulky still. Tucker understands, obviously, but it’s not super helpful. 

. . . no pun intended.

“Tucker? What took you so–” Jazz leans into the hall behind Danny, looking pretty stressed-out herself, and then cuts her own question in half and immediately looks just as baffled. 

Tucker maybe, uh, should’ve texted again. Like–maybe that was a thing he should’ve done. 

“So like, remember when you told me that Doomsday game was stupid?” he asks. “Well, it’s not, and also it gave me an idea? Kinda? Like–well, very much so it gave me an idea, yeah. Like, definitely there’s an idea.” 

Dani peers out from behind Danny and Jazz, looking exhausted and pale and just barely frowning, and Superboy’s sullen expression immediately clears and he pushes his glasses up into his hair and winks up at her. 

“Hey, cutie, ‘sup?” he greets. Tucker would assume it was a “cute girl” thing, except he didn’t do it when he saw Jazz, so presumably it’s more an “obviously identical to the guy answering to ‘Danny’ and therefore obviously who they’re here for” thing. Or maybe he just likes brunettes more than redheads. 

. . . yeah, unlikely. 

“Oh my god, you seriously kidnapped a superhero for me?” Dani asks, a brief flash of glee crossing her tired, pale face as she half-covers her mouth with a hand, eyes sparkling with a delight Tucker has really missed seeing. He also appreciates that she went straight to “kidnapped”, it’s very flattering that that’s her first thought. “Tucker, that’s so sweet!” 

“Oh my god, you kidnapped the actual Superboy,” Jazz says incredulously, then scowls disapprovingly at him and plants her hands on her hips. “Tucker! What is wrong with you?!” 

“I mean he came along willingly, I didn’t have to actually–uh, I mean, not that I would have actually–yeah no he came willingly, I didn’t have to enact Plan Krypton-napping,” Tucker admits sheepishly, though he’s only actually sheepish about any of it because Superboy’s, like, literally standing right next to him and all. Probably that sounds bad, from Superboy’s perspective. “So it’s fine! I didn’t actually have to commit any crimes, and thought-crimes don’t count! Therefore I am blameless and nothing is wrong with me and you can’t be mad about it!” 

“Yes we can, you should’ve taken backup, dummy!” Jazz retorts in exasperation, throwing her hands up in the air before gesturing pointedly at Superboy with both of them. “He can fly! That is like half of his whole thing, is that he can fly! What were you gonna do if he just pulled an up, up, and away?!” 

. . . okay, valid. 

“Unnecessarily waste time tracking him down, probably,” Tucker admits with a wince. “Uh. Yeah, sorry, my bad there.”

[vampiretendencies]

a visceral feeling, that i can never leave behind

summary; jj crossed his heart, hoped to die that he wouldn’t get in another dust up; now he’s suffering.

authors notes; getting back into the groove of writing full length fics, still doing blurbs. but if you have a request either way, requests are open.

pairing; jj maybank x pogue!fem!reader (reader is almost always a pogue, unless i specify other wise)

warnings; angst to fluff, maybe suggestive if you take it that way

It was unusual to not hear from JJ.

Whether it be sullen facetime calls, hundreds of affectionate text messages, or not being able to pry your hands off of one another in person.

It was just unusual.

Which is why you are silently cursing yourself, sat parked outside the Chateau. The Twinkie was gone, but that in more ways than one didn’t mean JJ wasn’t in his bedroom.

Maybe John B took it out on an errand.

Maybe John B, Pope, and Kie went out on the marsh.

The possibilities were endless— but JJ never was the type to miss out on a Pogue expedition. Nor was he the type to not tell you about it; hell he’d update you if he was doing a task, as simple as smoking a blunt.

Glancing down at the blue and grey text chain, a photo of JJ kissing the bone of your jaw ever so slightly adorned the top, a helpless dimple poking through— but, you couldn’t understand why most of it was blue. Why were they so many texts from only you?

J <3

JB did a lil fire tonight

Got mosquito bites in places I shouldn't have mosquito bites

Need you to help me scratch them :(

I'm being serious

Goodnight baby, wish I was sleeping with you

Those were the last few texts you'd received from JJ, after you'd worked a late shift at the wreck and he'd known you fell asleep. JJ also knew today was your late shift, typically he'd be at the front door of your home; parents ready to boot him out from how much he continuously rambled on about you. You even tried calling Kie, Pope, and John B numerous times with no response.

Yeah, something was definitely fucking wrong.

With a slam of your car door the leaves from the tree above crunch beneath your feet, adjusting your cropped tee so it didn't fall too low. Rays of the sun beaming thoroughly on the skin of your legs and the exposure of your back, making your way towards the screen door of the Chateau. Screen pulled back and worn out, the wood chipped and chewed but this wouldn't be the Chateau if it wasn't. Past the porch you step foot inside, pushing aside beer cans with your shoe clad foot; empty cereal boxes, stale three-day old pizza, open sodas. Anything that you could imagine that was on the hard wood floor, it was.

But what you couldn't find was answers.

"JJ!"

You called, knowing full well there wouldn't be a response as he isn't visibly here. But it's JJ, he could be fucking around.

"Baby!"

You tried the pet name in hopes that it would work, but as you enter his room and see an unmade bed with miscellaneous clothes thrown on it your thoughts grew thin. You huffed limp body falling back onto the solid twin matress.

Instantly flying upward upon hearing familiar voices and footsteps, one familiar voice in particular.

Questions seeming to be answered all at once.

Seeming.

"Did you see that headlock John B had him in?"

"Easy access! Took one hit and I swear I heard his jaw crack!"

It was, in fact JJ.

Doing that thing that he does after the Pogues think they've accomplished something big, yet they always fail to see the bigger picture.

Heat of the moment or adrenaline, you assumed.

"His face was so fucked up!"

"He's had it coming for a long time."

You confirmed it was John B's voice with Kies toward the end. Now the issue was, who the hell did they have to get into a fight with this time?

Though you may not know, you'd make certain to find out.

Creeping around the corner, you make your presence known at the entrance of the living room where they all stood. Appearing as if they's seen a ghost.

Not only did they not have the decency to include you or fill you in, but JJ's fist is coated in blood. Disheveled and mulled, like they'd been ran over by the same bus various times. Kie's curls fanned outwardly, John B with a busted lip, Pope with a black eye, and JJ with a welp against his cheek bone; a gushing cut seeping through.

Your voice grows horse, mouth running dry; fathomed by your supposed friends in front of you.

What were you? A sick joke?

"Look ... we can explain, JJ told us not to tell you and we-"

Kie offered, guilt eating away at her portraying a bad habit.

"Just don't."

"Shouldn't someone like ... be mediator this time, she might actually kill him."

Pope chimes in and it makes your stomach churn because he was partially true.

You brush past them, aiming for your car and of course JJ's steps behind you. Echoing your every move, fingertips knotting around your wrist in an effort for you to turn around and face him. Unexpectedly, your back met with the warm glass window of your car. His fists at the hood, arms hovering near the sides of your head. Tresses combed backward from his digits, out of fear that this situation right here would happen.

There were certain confrontations JJ appreciated and certain one's he didn't.

He had no problem with pummeling someone unrecognizable for the sake of his friends, which spells out the entirety of this.

The confrontations he hated though was this one, the one where he can't even look you in the eye. He invariably lost his tongue in a fight with you, his past making him think that every fight could result in you abandoning him and never coming back. For the long run.

"You should go get that looked at," you spat, biting back so harshly. Peering at a slash that would take weeks to scab over.

"Just stay okay? This doesn't have to be a fight."

His speech is low and he's looking everywhere but at you until you shoved him- hands connecting with his chest in an effort to get his attention and for him to stop caging you in.

Exasperated that he couldn't just tell you, that he couldn't just talk to you about it.

Animosity that he would dare get his precious face damaged in such as way.

Irate and bitter that his somehow get himself in this overwhelming imperilment.

A menace before you.

"It does JJ! We're lying to each other now? This is what we do?!"

It was a show, a show that people would stream on television for their on laughter and enjoyment.

But this was the sheerness of a susceptible couple, glass nearly empty.

Time bellowing out.

"I had to baby!"

Not to be dramatic but JJ's heart had been stitched together once, when you entered his life.

And that's why he tried his utmost to prevent any interference in this relationship.

Because now he swears, he can physically feel a stitch rip open with every remark you make.

"We tell each other everything JJ!"

"And I didn't tell you 'cause, I knew this is how you'd react!"

He stands still with a clenched jaw; tight enough for teeth to grind, hand gesturing at your current 'pissed off' stance—notrils flaring and mouth agape.

And he thinks this actual smoke fuming out of your ears.

Silence fell over the two of you, stood so desperately apart in the misty front yard of the Chateau.

"It was Rafe," He rasped through monotone. "We had to take this round while we could-"

"So fucking stupid, you know he's coming back for ya'll!" You still speak sharply, infuriated past envy. "M'the one treated like shit, just for you to get one up on Rafe Cameron ... of all people JJ!"

"I know, baby! I know-"

He reached for your arms, in ordinace to hold them close, but he failed whilst you inched to the car door.

What's upsetting is, after the fight and pirior to it- JJ craved to breathe in your oxygen and get lost inside your lungs.

"I dont care if it's a decision I won't like, it's still something I deserve to know," and now your voice is just growing weary. "You do such dumb shit and m'expected not to say anything."

All JJ could do was ache.

Ache with regret.

And ache with longing at the feeling of you not wanting to be near him.

He hadn't even gotten a kiss today, for Christ's sake.

"You said you wanted all of me JJ, I gave you that. Why aren't you doing the same..."

Your figure folds, stepping low into the car, JJ running forward bloody fist pounding on the glass window. Praying to God, that you'd give in just this once and hear him out.

"I am! I fuck up one time and you're there to make sure I don't hear the end of it!'

He's finding his voice, a minute two late as his takes note of gear switching and the vehicle moving backward to leave.

"Get out! Don't go ... please don't baby!"

“Baby!”

He trails behind the moving car, as if running would make a difference.

But you wouldn't be there this time.

The last altercation he got into, you were on the other end to clean his bruises and linger kisses onto his cuts; yet, there was also an agreeance that he wouldn't be caught up in another scrutinizing fight.

You validated yourself in thinking you had the right to your reaction.

And JJ validated himself in thinking he was right in not telling you, your words engraving in his brain like clockwork; agatizing that he saw reason.

Nearly a chore for him to listen— heardheaded beyond belief.

Ravaging in the come down.

Always finding the beat, now they can't find the rush.

All filaments of emotion turned to dust.

“You can stop shitting your pants now, she’s already seen us.”

John B’s banter is not one that makes JJ’s tongue stop clicking, nor does it make his leg stop bouncing up and down out of horrid anxiousness.

He’s forced John b to take him to your home, only to be dismissed in your family saying you weren’t around.

You were, you just couldn’t stand to see JJ.

Fed up with his antics and his constant need to put himself in a position of hazardous instability.

Allowing him to resort to plan ‘work invasion’— the one place he knew you couldn’t escape him.

Despite how he typically acts, JJ has precise memory when it comes to you. He still has the little crumpled piece of paper you gave him in first grade— folded neatly inside his wallet, being besotted with you for that long.

‘I like your hiar — signed Y/N’

He picked fun at the way you spelled hair, though he took pride in his hair since then. And no matter how much he misplaced things, he endlessly found his was back to that note.

Resembling you, evermore.

With that being said, remembering your work schedule was something of ease to him.

You did glance at them stepping foot into the eating establishment, sat at a table on the far side— also know as your serving section.

Ultimately, you didn’t want to argue any longer with JJ; you didn’t want to argue to begin with. You bargained with him to learn— to learn that he can’t always have his way.

Especially when he’s teasing you so, showing up during your shift, and wearing that stupid fucking navy blue button up shirt besides the fact that it was, unbuttoned. Chest on display, muscular and built.

You felt the dagger of his eyes on your back whilst you served the table that was ahead of them, still feet away. Unable to concentrate on the order, eaves dropping on their conversation.

“Ma’am, are you listening?”

“Sorry … sorry what was that?”

Your saccharine voice apologizing to the woman and her small child, JJ chews the inside of his mouth. He despised going longer than a millisecond without hearing that sweet, sweet sound, laced with the inticement of veneration.

Accidentally fumbling the pen and note pad in your hand, rubbing your sweating palms onto your greasy black half-apron.

“Just two milkshakes.”

The woman was quick to repeat, voice more stern at you for not getting it right the first time.

But JJ was going to win you over, wether that be clogging every toilet in the stalls to announce to everyone that there was a plumping problem— isolating only you and him.

Though, he had something else in mind. Maybe not we’ll thought out to most, but it was the quickest and most efficient way he new of to win you back over on his side.

You slide your feet against the tiled floor, anticipating serving the group of Pogues. Instead you plaster on as fake as smile, and interrupt their witty banter by clearing your throat.

“What can I get ya’ll today? Our special today is a main dish of lying with backstabbing on the side.”

You were being bitter and you knew it, purposefully standing on the side of the table that JJ wasn’t on. But still the dining chair screeched on the floor, in an effort to move closer.

“Look we actually love you a lot more than JJ, if we’re being honest,” Pope conquered, and Kie and John B shook their heads in eagerness, willing to mask the tension in the air. “He convinced us to leave you out of it and we didn’t want to get in the middle of anything.”

“You don’t have to justify anything JJ did Pope, he chose to break our promise and that’s on him.”

You sneered, eyes rolling harshly at the blonde that’s twirling his thumbs— peering up at you with a deathly smirk on his features.

“That was a one time thing, Rafe deserved it baby, you know he did.”

“Baby, you know he did.”

John B mocked JJ, warning a kick from JJ’s combat boot beneath the table with a scoff.

“Did you guys hear something … like this irritating buzzing sound of some bastard talking?”

That earned a hissing sound from John B, the actual remnants of what JJ felt from that comment.

“Are y’all ordering or what? I have other tables to serve.”

You conquer, JJ’s at the edge of seat, tapping his foot. His sense being filled with that of burgers, shrimp and grits, anything he could utter but he didn’t have an appetite.

No, not when the only thing he had a hankering for was currently in front of him.

Back straightened and stood tall, typically a stance he’d drool over but he can’t get past the weeping sensation— dire need to never be at odds.

To simply just be.

For you to be his, and him be yours.

All over again.

“I was hoping you were on the menu.”

Courage emphasizing his words, eyeing you up and down— nearly eyefucking. Seeing now as his opportunity to go in for the kill.

“Okay, you know what-“

You’re spinning on your heels, in a notion to walk away— refusing service.

Until.

“JJ! Get down, my parents are never gonna’ let us back in here!”

But, he didn’t give a fuck.

A sickly pit in your stomach causes you to turn around, to be met with a JJ stood bright eyed— a disfigured expression and sunken shoulders hanging low.

Standing atop the table, head closer to the ceiling than it ever was before. Loud and proud, whilst his hands clapped, cupping together for a infamous effect.

Your face burns with prim red scrutiny, horror covering your face— just powerful moments ago.

Insides scrambling to nothing, a stupid toothy grin plastered across his features.

Wreckless, per usual, consequences of no variation to him.

He’s irrevocably standing on top of a restaurant table with only lovingly sullen eyes.

“This woman right here,” He gestures his arms toward you, all bodies turning toward you— wanting to cower in shame but oddly enough you were enticed and lead by infatuation.

Pope and John B, just let JJ do his thing— either way he was going to do what he pleased.

Crowds of familiar faces, family, a friends— some with mouths wide open in awe, some making snarky remarks, and some wishing like hell that it was them.

“She’s gonna’ have my babies,” He started a small chuckle escaping his lungs. Announcing to the entirety of the restaurant, giving them entertainment; despite the promise he broke to not get himself hurt again.

This though. This was promising, and convincing and everything in between.

Salvaged with being allergic to the waiting.

Waiting for you to come around.

You’re in the room, you earn his gaze.

You open your mouth, he’s hypnotized.

Starstruck.

“And m’gonna have those lips on mine for however long she lets me … forever I hope.”

He beamed, Kie’s father’s disgruntled face entering the room, waving at JJ to get down.

A sinister grin still on his features.

“And ya’ll will pass by us in disgust, that you can’t be us. That you can’t have our love.”

You’d hoped someone was behind you because you were about to collapse.

“This enough of an apology for you, pretty girl?”

He echoes, bits of his accent flowing through the sentence.

You managed to fight the smile on your features.

Let’s just say JJ proclaiming his love infront of nearly thirty people didn’t come close to his usual public displays of affection.

“Get your ass down!” Kie’s father, Mike, stammered, and JJ willingly jumped down from the table, being that he wasn’t finished.

And he knows by the smile lines next to your mouth— that this argument is officially past tense.

And he knows that tonight he’s going to relish in all the delicacies that you have to offer him.

“I mean it was alright,” you joke, picking fun to pass your inkling of embarrassment.

Knowing that it topped any apology you’ve received.

JJ glides over to you, hands wholeheartedly cupping your face, thumbs nestling you chin. Like the two of you were on a stage and this was a live performance.

You hold his heart in your hands internally, JJ is merely thankful to be alive during this lifetime with you.

Appreciating your existence and the relationship the two of you founded, together.

He places a wet, sloppy kiss to your lips, pecking them repeatedly. Delving them together, molding with perfection and engulfing yours with his.

Exhilarated to have the opportunity to graze mouths with yours.

“Don’t ever make me chase you again.”

But, he knows he’d do it all over.

Standing hand in hand, with lovelorn souls.

Knowing that he’d redo it without hesitation.

[lalunanymph]

𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑

𖨆♡𖨆 itoshi rin x fem!reader x itoshi sae

✧˚ · . a tornado meeting a hurricane, a wild flame catching onto dry straw—that was how it felt like to love the both of them: disastrous.

✧˚ · . cw. love triangles, sae is 27 / rin is 25 / yn is 24, cheating (w. rin), established relationship (w. sae), explicit smut, degradation (w. rin), dubcon (w. rin), stalking (rin), unprotected s[e]x (w. rin), language, tension, family dynamics, mentions of food, toxic relationship dynamics

dawn says: a reupload !! hopefully this permanently stays in the tags askdjf enjoy <33

masterlist | playlist

#1 — A BACKWARDS DANCE

The ticking clock overhead mimicked the nervous bumps of your heart as the atmosphere around the Itoshi dining table remained frigid. 

Despite Mrs. Itoshi’s efforts to keep the conversation going (Hana—she told you to call her Hana), the hard block of tension icing over the two grown men in the centre of the fold could’ve cut anyone’s efforts short. Sae was picking at his kare dish, listlessly nodding whenever his mother tried to poke more information about Spain out of him. Sometimes, he would reach underneath the table to take your hand, squeezing it—a silent reassurance that this will be over soon, baby, okay?   

But, funnily enough, it wasn’t your boyfriend who was contributing this level of unease throughout dinner.  

Sae was a perfect angel tonight (well, as perfect as one could get).

He remembered his manners, treated his parents with respect, did not turn the wrath of his apathy on them and even helped his mother to set the table while waving you off to catch up on the 7 o’clock news with his father on the sofa. 

The reason why this delicate balance of comfort this entire evening threatened to tip towards outright edgy nastiness was because of one dark-haired striker glaring at you from across the table.

Sae’s little brother, himself: a glaring and uncommunicative Itoshi Rin. 

Your friends did tell you that meeting the family for the first time would be awkward, but was it this uncomfortable?   

Despite your thin blouse and skirt, you felt stuffy and itchy all over; one hot gust was enough to make you break out in sweat like a sinner in church. You tried to be nice to Rin; asked him about his progress in Blue Lock, encouraged his sharing on his victories on the field (while pinching Sae’s thigh so the elder Itoshi would not make a nasty remark which would boil over this unbearable tension—and wisely, he kept his mouth shut). 

But, all your efforts were in vain. 

Rin would give you one syllable retorts or grunts, never peeling his glare from his slowly congealing kare. Even Hana had noticed and with the patience of a martyr, tried to worm out what was bothering her youngest. You could see how much she loved Rin; those teal irises she passed on to her sons would soften, and she would ask him about how hard his training was; if he was happy with his friends and working hard at the facility. 

Oh, yes. It was winter now, and the clubs were closed to prepare for football season in the early summer. You had halfway forgotten.

“I had a friend who used to manage a training facility,” you tried to gain a foot into the conversation. Sae’s shoulders suddenly tensed, as if preparing for a fight. If you had an iota of self-awareness, you would’ve noticed how the older brother’s eyes flashed towards the younger, a wordless warning to be fucking nice to you. “She loved it so much and spends every weekend there. Have you ever considered opening up your own training club, Rin-kun?” 

For a moment, he didn’t reply. Rin slid his sullen glare from his food to you, and your heart made a weird, constricting movement somewhere above your knotted stomach. You hadn’t realised you were holding your breath. 

Those cool, aquamarine eyes appraised you with barely concealed disinterest, though unlike his older brother’s natural apathetic appearance, Rin could not quite hide the flickering flame of anger behind the stoic facade. It made you want to curl upon yourself—hide your face in Sae’s shoulder until he told you it was safe to come out.

The tablecloth rustled for a moment, and Rin winced. The hostility soon clouded over, and a neutral sort of detachment took its place. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, using the tines of his fork to poke a limp carrot. “If football wasn’t so demanding. Yeah.” 

At least he had uttered five more words to you than before. You counted it as progress.

Rin’s animosity aside, the entire dinner with Sae’s family was lovely. His father was good-natured enough to jab a few jokes, and his mother was a complete sweetheart with how much she doted on everyone at the table.

Only one person did not give you his full approval, and you desperately wanted to earn it. 

His acceptance would mean you and Sae were right for each other; that this relationship was worth pursuing and sticking to in the long haul. Granted, Sae and you have only been dating for a year, but you really could see yourself going the distance with the famous midfielder.

But, maybe, Rin probably thought you were with Sae for his money. 

This wouldn’t be the first time. 

Though your relationship was not yet public, you could foresee the SNS pages not-so-subtly hinting at your poorer background as a sports physiotherapist who had managed to sink her talons into Japan’s football prodigy. 

It was unfair, but a completely plausible reason why Rin was treating you coldly.

With that thought in mind, you waited until your boyfriend and his parents were in the living room watching a movie before joining the youngest Itoshi in the kitchen to help wash up the dishes. 

While you were bemoaning Rin’s disdain for you, what you didn’t know was that Rin could not stand being in the same room as them—as those fucking pacifiers. 

Despite how his parents knew what Sae had done to him; how the older man had intentionally ruined their entire sibling relationship, they still decided it was a good idea to spring this dinner on him the very second he entered their house. 

Idiots. Rin squeezed too much soap onto the sponge and started to scrub his mother’s fancy strictly-for-guests cutlery roughly. Not only did they tell him at the last minute that Sae was coming for dinner, but they also conveniently forgot to mention that he was bringing his girlfriend along. 

His girlfriend who was far prettier than that asshole deserved; whose vanilla perfume engulfed him the second you stepped close enough to give him an awkward one-arm hug.

He couldn’t get rid of the memory of how your pretty eyes sparkled whenever his father told a joke, or how softly you glanced at Sae everytime that fucking bastard opened his fucking mouth.

You were too good; too pure for someone as undeserving as Itoshi Sae. 

“Rin?” 

He almost dropped the plate he was holding. Thanking his fast reflexes, Rin tightened his hold on the delicate porcelain and turned around to find you hovering hesitantly by the doorway. 

“I thought you could use some help.”

Before he even had the chance to open his mouth to crisply tell you that he had it under control, you padded over, grabbing one fluffy white cloth and picking up a mug to wipe it down. 

“It’s fine,” he gruffly muttered, fully expecting you to come to your senses and turn around in embarrassment with an excuse that you had to go back to Sae.

But, you didn’t do any of that.

Rin’s ears pricked with the sound of your tinkling laughter. He turned to face you and it was a huge mistake.

Your smile was purity in itself, shining brightly with your effervescent personality that drew him in like a moth to a flame. He raked his eyes down the dip of your collarbone (how did Sae even allow you to dress this provocatively in front of his little brother?) and drank in your plush thighs jiggling slightly from the high stockings you wore which just touched the hem of your miniskirt. 

I’m going to fucking kill him for putting her in front of me. 

“You know, Sae always did say you were a little, um… different.”

At the mention of his nii-chan’s name, Rin calmed the ridiculous thudding in his heart enough to shoot you an unimpressed grimace. “I take it he means something offensive?”

“No, no,” you retorted hastily, and impulsively reached out to touch his arm. Rin hated how that simple motion got his cock twitching in his pants, and he involuntarily jerked back, sloshing soap suds onto the counter. You gasped softly and reached for a cloth the same time he did. 

Your fingertips grazed the other and you hastily retracted your hand, unaware of how hot your face was growing. It felt like a spark had gone off between the both of you, and you were incredulous to discover blood roaring in your ears; your heart thudding a mile a minute.

Rin fell into a thick disquiet, returning back to the dishes. You scrambled to pick up the cloth, steadying your heartbeat and trying to pretend like these last few seconds never even happened. Perhaps you should try again.

“He meant it in a way that you’re special.” 

Whatever he expected you to say, it was not this. Rin stopped his methodical scrubbing, and glanced at you from under those glossy dark green bangs falling in his face. An irrational urge overtook you to brush those stray strands from his eyes, and you almost did. 

Almost reached out to sweep them away so casually you had to catch yourself from acting out on that impulse. 

Almost crossed a huge line when it came to your boyfriend’s little brother. 

The butterflies in your belly quickly became warning chimes. 

Rin’s presence itself set you on edge; like a predator to prey, you wondered when he would sink his jaws into you. Tell you that he knew the only reason you were with his brother was because you were attracted to the yen signs and not the man behind them. 

You could not bear to handle such an accusation from someone this familiar with Sae. 

The potential backlash from tabloids were one thing (you would never pay them any mind), but if Sae’s otouto himself deemed you were nothing but a money-hungry gold digger, you would never get over the utter dismay of not being fully accepted into the Itoshi family. 

So, you waited with your hands clenched around the soft cloth. Waited for him to throw you a harsh word or shatter his judgement into your face. 

You never anticipated what he would say next.

 “You’re too good for him.” 

Something deflated in your chest, making you curl forward and hunch yourself like a frightened animal. Rin’s words echoed in your mind like you were standing under a roaring waterfall, clogging your ears up with cold disbelief of the implications behind such a treacherous observation. 

There was nothing you could do but chuckle uneasily, shrugging your shoulders.

“I like to think I don’t deserve him.”

“No.” 

This time, the frustration was evident in his tone. “You’re nice. You’re smart, kind and funny. What the fuck are you doing with a man like him? You can do so much better.”

He dried his hands off and perched those large, veiny palms on the edge of the damp counter, peering at you with those piercing teal eyes you were halfway drowning in. Your throat felt like it was closing on itself, and the utterly heavy realisation that set in far too late shook you to the core. 

Rin… wanted you. 

He wanted you. 

You were sure of it. 

Those half-hooded eyes, the parted mouth. You had only ever seen that familiar expression on your boyfriend’s face. 

Like someone had thrown ice-cold water into your face, you took one step back; though you were positively sure he could not miss the way your pulse was rapidly ticking like a trapped hummingbird against your flushed neck. 

Rin did not corner you nor call you to come back. 

He simply let you mumble an excuse and high-tail it out of the kitchen. Later, when he was finally done with the dishes, he stepped out to an empty living room and his mother’s inscrutable gaze.

“Sae and Y/N have gone home,” she declared, standing up and smoothing her skirt. “I take it you were nice to the poor girl? You know how much she means to your brother.”

She does? 

Rin had barely noticed Sae’s presence at the table. 

“I was nice,” he murmured defensively. Then, he let curiosity overtake him. “Is she returning to Spain with him?” 

Hana hummed, running a hand through her silver-streaked reddish brown hair and shrugged. “She’s staying behind, I think. Sae didn’t mention anything about her following.”

His mother would never know how much her words ignited such a strong fixation in him to track you down and finish what you both started. As much as the world saw him as Itoshi Sae’s little brother, he had forged a name for himself beyond the association to his brother’s lukewarm prodigy status, becoming a formidable foe on the field.

And subsequently, someone with a ton of contacts. 

He would find you, and he would make you admit the inevitable truth—that what you both felt in that little kitchen was not as unreciprocated as you would’ve liked to believe.

Ever since your encounter with Rin, you felt as if the air was humming with an inevitable storm. 

Its electric presence clung to the tips of your hair, a slight tremble in your fingers whenever a tall, dark-haired man appeared in your periphery. Sometimes, you would find yourself doing a double take at the familiar stranger and harp on your own stupidity. 

Rin wasn’t serious, you tried to persuade yourself. He’s just testing me to see if I’m true to Sae. 

And you were. You loved your boyfriend with every beat of your heart. You showed it to him through consistent calls and texts now that he was back in Spain. Sae’s presence was marked in your constant soft smiles and eager heart which yearned for him to come back. He had a match tonight and like a good girlfriend, you told him you would be watching it from home. 

Massaging your neck, you tried to ease out the kinks as you closed your shop for the day. As a physiotherapist, your expertise was sought out near and wide for giving mobility back to the people who needed it. Most of your clientele were athletes, which was how you were introduced to Sae when he came in for a sore hamstring. 

The world outside was quiet, streetlamps casting their orange glow on the rain slickened pavements. Your mind was working on autopilot, a constant hum of dishes, Netflix and mid-week laundry stringing in between your thoughts with the reminder of FaceTiming Sae after his match had ended. 

You didn’t hear the bell above your tinkling, nor feel a presence ambling into your shop until he cleared his throat.

A familiar pair of teal eyes shocked you out from your reverie, and you pieced on an uncertain smile when you realised who it was.

“Rin—hey. What’re you doing here?” 

He was clad in a pair of dark-wash jeans and a black turtleneck, his coat hanging limply in his arms. A cool draft seeped in from an open crack at the door, its chill mimicking the tightness in the corners of your eyes.

“I heard from Isagi that you’re one of the best for strained muscles,” he dropped his coat onto the counter and you tried to ignore how tall he was—easily towering over you and his brother. It would’ve been amusing to see how much Sae’s younger brother was bulkier and ganglier than him, but the flash of irony dissipated when he leaned forward, trapping you between the marble high top and his build. “Can you help me? My back has been feeling tight lately.” 

A bubble of nervous laughter spilled from your lips and you took one step back, trying hard to ignore how his warmth encroached your personal space and left behind the dizzying scent of pine and musk. 

You flickered your gaze to his damp hair, and surmised he must’ve been caught out in the rain. 

“Did you run here?” you tried to tease him, shifting past the behemoth of a striker to fiddle with the heater. Switching it up to sweltering proportions, you turned around and spared him a smile. “Don’t want you catching a cold.” 

You were ignorant to how Rin’s eyes darkened when you flicked off your white coat, pushed up your sleeves and beckoned him into an examination room. Warmth pooled from between the vents, swirling around both your close bodies when you positioned him on the table and started to feel up his tense back. 

Finding the tight knot in record time, you hummed. “I was right. A strained external oblique. I noticed it from the way you're compensating your weight on your right side—it must be sending dull sparks of pain upward, correct? Your brother had a similar injury before. Must be a family trait to kick the ever-loving shit out of a ball, huh?” 

Your joke barely found traction, and instead of offering a polite chuckle, Rin’s teal irises clouded over with an inscrutable emotion. The merriment withered on your tongue and you cleared your throat, beckoning him to remove his shirt. 

Rin did so without a single protest, and you couldn’t help yourself from raking your gaze down his defined back. 

“I sprained it while doing a sharp turn a few days ago,” he started to divulge. “Guess that’s what is causing my sleepless nights.” 

You prodded the toughened muscle with a pinch in your brow. “Is it affecting your sleep? That’s horrible. Let me help you get it sorted.”

Using a cold spray, you focused it on his strained muscle, the smell of sharp mint hitting your nose. When he was sufficiently medicated, you instructed him to raise his arms over his head. Rin did as you told him too, and you missed the tiniest shudder when you gripped his wrists and gently stretched him to the side, opening up his muscles slowly.

His hiss of pain made you wince and you chuckled lightly to hide your sudden nerves. “Deep breaths, Rin-kun. The pain will dissipate.”

“Why do you insist on calling me Rin-kun when you’re a year younger than me?” 

The sharp question he threw at you caught you off-guard. Luckily, your face was hidden from his prying eyes and you quickly schooled your features to one of professional neutrality. 

“I don’t know. Habit, I think. I am dating your older brother.”

It became like a game, then, for you to constantly remind him of Sae. You would tell him about his brother’s plays, the things he said about his otouto and the numerous dumb things you both would get up to, but it sounded hollow. Distracted. 

Rin could guess as much. 

“You hate it when he’s gone, huh?” 

He was bent forward on the table and your hands stilled from kneading his sides. Swallowing a sudden wad of nerves, you forced out a chuckle. 

“I do. I hate it so much. It makes me feel needy.”

Rin hummed, and turned his gaze behind to catch your wide ones. “It’s because he never made you feel secure in the first place.” 

You felt like he had scalded you; stripped your bare of your defences till you were left naked and bleeding, completely susceptible to his scrutinising dark eyes. Those same eyes that reminded you of Sae’s, yet were filled with more fire than his older sibling’s. More passion that made a shiver run up your spine just from thinking about it. 

Involuntarily, you took a step back, and the tense atmosphere tightened a bit more. It was unbearable how he was looking at you, like you were a treat dangling right in front of his face that he could not bite into. A forbidden fruit he was thinking of claiming for his own without caring about the repercussions. 

Rin shifted from his seat to face you, his thighs spread around either side of your body. You couldn’t move away, not when he picked up your hand and pressed it right onto his chest. 

“I meant what I said in the kitchen,” he mumbled, dark bangs falling in front of his face. Your fingers automatically brushed them back and his eyes rippled close, like your touch seared his skin and he lived for the thrill of that sharp pain. 

He brought you closer into his orbit, where you were close to crashing onto his murky surface. 

Rin’s lips ghosted your collarbone, and your breathing hitched. Unbidden, your eyes drooped close, and you held your breath.

Make it stop… I can’t keep away from him…

With a strength you never knew you had, you braced two hands onto his broad pecs and pushed yourself from the freefalling edge back into safe waters, gasping like you had nearly drowned. 

The spell broke and Rin’s eyes shot wide open. For a second, neither of you could speak. Your chest rose and fell with heaving breaths and his inscrutable eyes were peeled onto your faltering expression. 

“Are you testing me?” The quiet anger in your voice was unmissable. “Did you think I would fold and you could tell Sae that I’m nothing but a gold digger? You’re such an asshole.”

Rin blinked, computing what you were trying to say. “Wh—no. I didn’t,” he vehemently disagreed, standing up. 

You tried and failed to keep your eyes trained away from the deep V on his stacked abdomen leading to a slight dusting of dark hair, warmth scrawled across your cheeks. Embarrassment held you hostage to this situation, and you didn’t think to move yourself away from the crossfire until he roped his defined arms around you, bringing right back into the fray. 

“Rin—”

The press of his lips on yours shocked you like a lightning bolt. 

Your gasp was mistaken for eagerness, and Sae’s younger brother didn’t hesitate to dip his tongue into your mouth, drinking in your honeyed moans with fervour. His warmth was intoxicating, spreading from your palms pressed onto his broad chest. Rin kissed you differently than Sae did; where the older Itoshi brother was hesitant pecks that melted into slow, mind-numbing kisses, his younger brother was all fiery determination to eat you whole one kiss at a time.

You barely noticed that your back was against the wall, only cognizant that your thighs were wrapped around his waist when he hoisted you into his arms. Rin kneaded your ass cheeks with an eagerness that belied his dirty intentions. The taste of him invaded your tongue, saturating it with something sweet, musky and a flavour that was all him. 

He grunted when you tugged on his locks feverishly, your core rocking against the half-hard bulge tenting from his jeans. 

Hands which were intimately acquainted to how his older brother’s skin felt gliding against yours trembled when they reached for his pants, unbuttoning it with one swift tug. Rin was agile enough to manoeuvre you higher against the wall while he released his cock from its denim confines, letting the leaking head touch your bare thigh. The short skirt you wore was perfect for this quick rendezvous, and you could sense his impatience when he pushed your panties to the side and lined himself up with your slick entrance.

“Rin—” your gasp was cut off by the delicious stretch of his cock invading your most sensitive inner spots.

The blunt head grazed a part in you that had you gasping and keening, your thighs tightening around his waist. Rin started to move and the pleasure was unbearable. It felt like hot coals sliding down your spine, bringing gooseflesh to your skin and tears to your eyes. 

You were close to combusting from both the guilt and rapture combined, your heart aching even as it soared when his lips collided roughly with yours.

“Fuck,” he grunted against your lips. “S’fuckin tight for me… like you were made for me.”

You didn’t give him a response, and he didn’t need one. The hitch in your breath was proof enough that you were quickly unravelling; giving him a prime view of an untouchable woman coming apart just for him. 

Rin could hardly believe this was happening: Sae’s shiniest trophy right in his arms, moaning breathily into his ear. 

As a teenager, he would spend hours in front of his brother’s most prized accolades, glaring them down, pushing himself to be harder, better, stronger so none of them would mean anything to Sae anymore when Rin could easily surpass him at every turn. This was no different.

You were a golden notch on Itoshi Sae’s bedpost, a woman out of his league that Rin halfway wondered if you were cursed with blindness for loving a man he had the displeasure to call his brother. What a lukewarm choice. Rin was completely serious when he said that you were too good for his brother. Your shining smile, your lovely laugh and your endless kindness was wasted on a man who cared about nothing in his life but football and himself.

Would it be a shame that you would never get to experience real love from someone who meant every gesture and promise? Sae could not give you that. He had lost both his heart and the respect of his younger brother in Madrid all those years ago. 

One particularly hard thrust made your toes curl in his periphery and your head toss back, a cry of his name rebounding across the room.

Take that, asshole, Rin thought viciously as he bit on your lower lip hard, swallowing your dulcet whimper. She’s already mine. 

The walls of your pussy were slowly melting around his cock, leading him down this final path of heady betrayal. 

What you both did could not be undone; you had effectively cheated on Sae with his younger brother. 

Rin had to hide his feral grin in the crook of your neck at the image of his older brother’s wide eyes; his shocked expression to find his girlfriend in his younger brother’s arms, swivelling her hips in a silent plea for him to let her cum. You lose, nii-chan. 

“Rin!” your gasp rang loudly and your release was swift. Those perfect velvet walls sucked his cock in deeper, not willing to let go. Rin was hard pressed to fight against it, letting your composure and release crumble all around him. Your body went lax in his grip, your keens turning softer, skin flushed with pearly drops of sweat.

He gave a few more pumps before white-hot strings filled you to the brim, eliciting another soft moan from your swollen lips. Rin leaned down to kiss you the same moment his cum overflowed and oozed down his length, staining the floor underneath the both of you with incriminating evidence of this betrayal. 

Your arms were tight around him, your face nestled in his neck that he almost missed your soft sobs. 

Rin used the remnants of his strength to sit you both down on the edge of the examination table. If you both were actually lovers, this scene would’ve been heart wrenching—you staining his neck with salty tears, thighs trembling around either side of his waist and your sweet cunt still moulded around his softening dick. 

He rubbed his hands up and down your back, offering you quiet comfort to ease the festering guilt slicing through his soul. The hard reality slammed into him the same second you lifted your watery eyes to touch his own darkened ones.

I fucked my brother’s girl. 

A firm push of his hands away sobered him back to the grim reality that you two were not lovers. The darkened look flitting across your face was enough to remind him of his misdeeds. 

You clambered off his lap, the fall of your hair hiding your trembling lips and shiny eyes. Methodically easing your panties back up your hips, his outstretched hand to help was met with an instinctual flinch and a frosty glare from you, one which shocked the young striker into silent regret.

“Get out,” your cold voice pierced him worse than any injury he had ever faced from the brutal fields. “This never happened between us, do you hear me?” Taking a deep breath, you had no idea how much your next words hurt him to the core. “I love Sae. I love him. He’s the only one I want, not you. Get out.” 

Rin wisely kept his mouth clamped shut, though his hard teal eyes told a different story. I know you’re just trying to convince yourself.

He could sense it in your tight shoulders and downturned grimace. You loved every single second of this. How could you not see it? 

The both of you were perfect for each other. 

But, Rin sensed it was better to keep at bay than goad you on. 

He eventually regained his common sense and pulled his pants up, shrugging his shirt back on and walking out of the clinic, letting the door creak close with a muffled thud to cover your slowly spiraling sobs.

© LALUNANYMPH. do not copy, repost, or claim as your own.

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

The Stag and the Dragon

pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Female OC

summary: Aegon has to marry a Baratheon girl, what was so attractive about her?

Word count: 3,9K

Warnings: Smut, Cunnilingus, Slight dirty talk, mean Aegon at first

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

In the dimly lit chamber of the Red Keep, the king's small council gathered, their faces illuminated by the flickering candles that lined the table. King Viserys I Targaryen sat at the head of the table, his expression grave as he surveyed his most trusted advisors. Among them were Queen Alicent, his daughters Rhaenyra, and Helaena, and his sons, Prince Aegon and Aemond. The tension in the room was palpable, for the matter at hand was of great import.

Viserys cleared his throat, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "My lords and ladies, thank you for convening today. As you all know, our realm faces a time of uncertainty, and it is imperative that we secure our alliances and strengthen the bonds between noble houses."

The council members exchanged knowing glances. They were well aware of the precarious state of the Seven Kingdoms, with simmering tensions and rivalries threatening to erupt into open conflict.

Aegon, the young prince, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had been aware of the impending discussion, and it filled him with unease. He glanced to his left, where the Baratheons, Borros, and Olira, sat. His betrothed, Olira Baratheon, sat with an impassive expression, her stormy blue eyes fixed on the table before her.

Viserys continued, "To that end, it is my decision to strengthen our ties with House Baratheon. I have arranged a betrothal between my son, Prince Aegon, and Lady Olira Baratheon."

The announcement hung in the air, and Aegon could feel the eyes of the council turn toward him. His heart sank at the prospect of this union, a marriage arranged for political gain rather than love. He shot a quick glance at Olira, but her face remained a mask of composure.

Borros Baratheon, Olira's father and the lord of Storm's End, nodded in agreement. "A wise decision, Your Grace. This alliance will bring stability to the realm."

Aegon bit his lip, struggling to contain his frustration. He had hoped for a different future, one where he could choose his own path. But the burdens of his birthright weighed heavily upon him, and he knew that his desires were secondary to the needs of the realm.

Olira, on the other hand, gave no outward reaction. She had been prepared for this moment by her father, taught to hide her emotions behind a stoic facade. She understood the duty that came with her noble blood, even if it meant sacrificing her own desires.

Viserys concluded the meeting, "Let it be known that this betrothal is a sign of unity and strength. The wedding will take place in due time, and I expect both Houses Targaryen and Baratheon to uphold their obligations."

As the council members began to disperse, Aegon couldn't help but steal one last glance at Olira. Their fates were intertwined now, whether they liked it or not, and the weight of their responsibilities pressed heavily upon their young shoulders.

The gardens of the Red Keep were a labyrinth of beauty, a testament to the opulence and grandeur of the Targaryen dynasty. As Aegon and Olira strolled along the winding paths, the scent of blooming flowers and the gentle rustle of leaves surrounded them. It was a serene backdrop for a union neither of them had chosen.

Aegon, his arms crossed and his expression sullen, walked a pace ahead of Olira. His displeasure with the betrothal was evident in every step, every furrowed brow. He had not wanted this, had not asked for it, and it was clear he had no intention of making it easy.

Olira, on the other hand, walked with a measured grace, her chin held high despite the growing tension in the air. She had been prepared for a life of duty and had resolved to meet this challenge with civility. Her father had told her that alliances between noble houses were the foundation of the realm's stability, and she was determined to do her part.

Queen Alicent, watching from a discreet distance, hoped that this walk would at least lead to some form of understanding between the betrothed. She knew that her son's disdain for the arrangement was only matched by Olira's quiet determination to make the best of it.

Aegon broke the silence, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "So, Lady Olira, what do you enjoy doing in your spare time? Embroidery? Singing songs of love and honor?"

Olira's patience was wearing thin, and she finally replied, her tone cool and measured. "I find solace in reading, Your Grace. History, politics, and strategies of war interest me."

Aegon scoffed. "Of course, books. Just what every young lady dreams of. I prefer the sword and the thrill of combat, something you probably find rather unladylike."

Olira's eyes flashed with irritation, but she maintained her composure. "Not unladylike, Your Grace, simply different. I believe that knowledge can be a powerful weapon as well."

The tension between them was palpable, but Queen Alicent had hoped that their shared time in the garden would lead to at least a civil conversation. She decided to intervene, approaching the young couple with a smile that barely masked her concern.

"Enjoying the garden, my dears?" the queen inquired, her voice warm but tinged with a subtle hint of authority.

Aegon and Olira exchanged a glance, both recognizing the queen's intent to bridge the gap between them. Aegon grumbled under his breath, but Olira took the opportunity to be diplomatic.

"Yes, Your Grace," Olira replied with a forced smile. "The garden is truly beautiful."

Queen Alicent nodded in approval. "Good. You have much to learn about each other, but I have faith that you will find common ground. After all, you both have the best interests of the realm at heart."

As the queen continued to speak, Aegon and Olira exchanged polite nods, masking their true feelings. The walk in the gardens had done little to change their initial impressions of each other, but they both knew that their future was inexorably tied to the success of this betrothal.

And so, they would have to find a way to navigate the treacherous path that lay ahead, one step at a time, whether they liked it or not.

Olira subtly shifted the conversation, attempting to steer it toward the subjects she knew would capture Prince Aegon's interest. As they walked through the garden, she spoke of the lavish feasts, celebrations, and wine tastings she had attended in Storm's End, emphasizing the pleasures of fine wines and the art of winemaking. She couldn't help but notice Aegon's attention wavering from his mother's discussion about politics and alliances to her words.

Aegon's eyes brightened, and he leaned in slightly, his curiosity piqued. "You enjoy wine, Lady Olira?"

Olira nodded with a warm smile, her intuition proving correct. "Indeed, Your Grace. The variety of wines and the craftsmanship that goes into making them have always fascinated me. The different flavors, the stories behind each vintage, it's like experiencing a piece of history with every sip."

Aegon's demeanor relaxed as he found himself engaged in a conversation more to his liking. "I couldn't agree more. There's something captivating about the way a good wine can transport you to another world, even if only for a moment."

Encouraged by his response, Olira continued, "Perhaps one day, we could share a fine bottle of wine and exchange stories of our favorite vintages. It would be a pleasant diversion from the weight of our responsibilities."

Aegon's initial reluctance to spend time with Olira seemed to be melting away as they discussed their shared interest in wine. He chuckled, a rare smile gracing his features. "You might be onto something, Lady Olira. I could use a distraction from all these talks of alliances and politics."

Queen Alicent observed the change in her son's demeanor, pleased that Olira had managed to capture his attention and steer their conversation in a more enjoyable direction.

As they continued their walk, Aegon and Olira discussed their favorite wines, their experiences at various feasts and celebrations, and their shared desire for moments of respite from the demands of their noble birthright.

Olira had achieved her goal of establishing a connection with Aegon, recognizing that they shared a common interest that went beyond the political union their families had arranged. It was a small victory, but one that held promise for their future together, despite the challenges that lay ahead.

As Aegon and Olira continued to discuss their shared interest in wine, the atmosphere between them lightened, and for a brief moment, it seemed they might find common ground. However, Aegon, known for his brash and sometimes thoughtless remarks, made a comment that shattered the fragile connection they had been building.

With a chuckle, he leaned in closer to Olira and said, "You know, Lady Olira, I've always found the intricacies of wine to be similar to women. Each one has its own unique flavor, and sometimes it's best to savor them all before settling for just one."

Olira's face froze, her smile vanishing. Aegon's comment had not only offended her as a lady but had also revealed his casual and somewhat disrespectful attitude towards women. The disappointment and hurt simmered beneath her stoic expression, but she knew better than to engage in an argument.

"I see," she replied, her voice cool and composed. "Well, Your Grace, I believe I've had my fill of wine and this conversation for today. Please excuse me."

With a polite nod to Aegon and a curtsey to Queen Alicent, Olira turned and gracefully retreated from the garden. Her composure remained intact, but inside, she was seething with indignation and disappointment. She had hoped for a connection, but Aegon's remark had shattered any goodwill she had felt.

As Olira made her way back to her chambers, she couldn't help but wonder how she would navigate this new challenge in her role as Aegon's betrothed. The road to understanding and acceptance seemed longer and more arduous than she had anticipated.

The night Olira changed into her sleep wear before shooing away her handmaidens. The all left her without a word thinking she was going to sleep. She took a deep breath trying to summon as much courage as she could before walking over to the door opening it to show her sword guard, a man she did not know given to her by the king.

"Ser if you will, can you bring me a cup of water, I seem to have already drank that was left in the chamber" The guard turned to look at her. She let out a fake squeal an d hid behind the door.

"Ser please, I am underdressed, just bring me the water and place it inside by the door without looking, I am betrothed to the prince and wish not to tarnish my reputation" She faked a distressed voice, she had mastered the art of voice manipulation ever since she was a young girl. She used it to freak her sisters into thinking she was crying or get them in trouble by using it on their father to get what she wanted.

"Yes of course, my lady" He nodded before scurrying away. Olira smirked before slipping out of her room. She walked as lightly as possible on her feet down the corridors. She had been here before once and somehow still remembered some of the corridors that led to the royal family wing.

She hid behind the corner to see who was there. There was only one guard standing in front of Aegon's bedroom door. She smirked seeing that she needed only to distract him. She looked around her and found a small rock, big enough to fit in her palm, perfect. She scurried behind a huge statue of what looked like The Mother before throwing the rock to the other side of the corridor.

"Who goes there?" Seconds later came the sound of heavy feet walking over. Olira held her breath watching through the small hole between the arm and body of the statue. The guard walked over looking around in search of the intruder. He walked further and further down the corridor with his hand on the hilt of the sword.

Olira moved from behind the statue once he passed her and moved as quickly and quietly as possible. She felt pride fill her when she reached the door and no one stopped her. She opened it and threw herself in before closing it. Aegon was sat on his bed, his back against the headboard, naked as the day he was born. His eyes widened when he saw her, she stood with her back against the door, panting lightly.

"What in the seven hells...?" He pulled one of the pillows to hide his lower region. Olira was actually shocked he had the decency.

"Surprised to see me?" She smirked, cocking an eyebrow up at him. Aegon scoffed rolling his eyes at her.

"Well no shit, what do you want? Where is my guard?" He asked. He moved to stand up with the pillow tightly clutched in his hands to cover his lower parts.

"Well your guard may have gone on a small walk, he will be back soon" She shrugged her shoulders. She moved to walk closer to him slowly. Her lips high in a smirk that sent shiver down aegon's back.

"What do you want?" Aegon asked. He frowned when she moved even closer to him until they were almost chest to chest with one another.

"I want to punish you, my bad prince" She answered simply. Aegon huffed and moved to push her with one hand but she used both to push him first making him fall back onto his bed.

"Punish me? How dare you, I am the prin..." Aegon's words froze in his mouth when she kneeled down to her knees.

"You've been mean to me, my prince" She wrapped her hands around the edges of the pillow, slowly pulling it away. Aegon tried to resist but her words sent a shock of pleasure straight down to his cock.

"I do not know of what you speak" He tried to justify himself. She smirked shaking her head while clicking her tongue. The pillow now was fully away and seated on the bed.

Olira's eys moved down from his face to look at his chest then torso and lasly his hard cock, standing proud and ready to be pleasured. Aegon's breath got caught in his throat when she reached up and grabbed him at the base.

"I wish to show you the benefit of marrying me, my prince" Olira started moving her hand up and down slowly, teasingly.

"Go on then" Aegon smirked. He looked down watching her face as she slowly moved her hand up and down his shaft. He can see that she did not have much if any experience.

He placed his hand on top of her own and started guiding her. His heart soared at the feeling of her soft hands on his member. She watched the movement with caution, trying to learn. Poor thing came to seduce him ony for her to lose control without even noticing.

"Dirty girl, you came here to fuck your prince?" Aegon teased her. Her head snapped up so fast he feared she may have given herself a whiplash.

"I do not wish to fuck my prince, I simply want to show him reason" She answered. She retrieved her hand but he kapt a hold on it making sure she does not run away.

"But what if your prince wishes to fuck you?" He asked, his grip tightening on her hand. He slowly began pulling it up, watching as her eyes widened in almost fear.

"Then I advice him to go find a whore, for I am not one" She responded harshly. She tried to pull away, successfully and made her way to the door.

Aegon was quick on his feet, placing his hand on the door before she could open in and held it in place. She gasped shocked and turned to face him confused.

"Your prince shall not force you, dirty girl, but he wishes for the same luxury" Aegon placed his other hand on the door trapping her between his naked body and the door.

"What ever do you mean?" She murmured, he was so close, his nose touched her own and her eyes were fighting not to close. His body heat was engulfing her along with his smell, he smelled like flowers and wine. She had heard he rarely bathed meaning his mother had forced him to bathe before they took their walk together.

"You wanted to show me the benifit of our marriage, I want to do the same" Aegon answered. he leaned his forehead on her own, nuzzling his nose with her own sensing the way she shuddered at his touch.

"What is it you w-wish to show me" She sighed. He leaned down almost like he wanted to kiss her only to dodge her lips and move down to his knees, fully naked and against the door.

"What are you doing?" She whimpered. He pushed up her skirts making her squeal in surprise.

"If you wish for us not to be caught, you should stay quiet" Aegon delivered a slap to her exposed thigh. Olira slapped a hand to her mouth and waited.

Aegon moved her small cloth to the side exposing her cunt fully to him. He smirked seeing her so wet, she probably did not even know why she was wet, women in her station were usually taught that only the man found pleasure and to lay back and take it while the man enjoys himself.

"Aegon" Her whispered was muffled by her hand when he blew lightly on her cunt.

Aegon ignored her and dived right in without a second thought. Letting a moan at the mere taste of her lower lips. Olira felt her knees growing weak at the feel of him.

Aegon pushed his tongue inside of her knowing it will not hurt her nor will it take her virtue away. His hands wrapped tightly at her calfs. One slid up and up slowly to hold her thigh making sure it stayed open. He gripped the flesh so hard it will surely bruise soon.

Olira tried her best to hide the moans tryin to escape her lips, it was harder than she thought it to be. Her hand that was attempting to open the door snapped down to grab the bright locks of Aegon, who shook his head from side to side nudging her numb with his nose with each shake.

Aegon hummed at the taste of her arousal increasing with each swipe of his tongue. He pulled back from her cunt and moved one of his hands, he held his thumb out and ran it over her pearl. Olira's legs began to shake as he swiped over it with his thumb over and over again.

"Such a dirty girl, growing wetter with each touch as if you expected it" Aegon smirked watching her face scrunch up in pleasure. She shook her head trying to deny his words but being unable to even speak. She felt so much pleasure and pressure.

Aegon used his other hand to raise one of her legs and rest it upon his shoulder before diving right back it. Tongue swiping over her slit before sinking inside of her. Olira's head fell back against the door with a loud bang.

"Are you alright, your grace?" The guard outside asked, he must have returned during the ordeal.

Aegon removed his mouth from Olira's cunt debating if he should answer but his thumb did not cease it's movement. He decided that he was feeling merciful for her and responded "Alright, just banged my foot"

Olira's whole body tensed feeling a strong pressure in her lower region. Her hand in his hair pushed him closer to her cunt. Aegon obeyed sensing her shakiness increasing faster than normal. His eyes watched her with his tongue deep inside of her, he moved his tongue with as much speed as he could go.

Olira had to fight a shout when the most intense wave of pleasure hit her. She had never felt something like this before in her life. Aegon chuckled when she began sinking down against the door. He pushed her leg off his shoulder so she wouldn't hurt herself. Instead he pulled away and moved to stand up.

"That w-was ... what are you doing mff.." Olira looked up at Aegon about to praise whatever he had done only for him to place a hand over her mouth.

"I am not done, dirty girl, open your mouth" He ordered. She obeyed opening her mouth slightly not know what he wanted.

Aegon chuckled shaking his head but gave her the benefit of the doubt. Not noticing he had grabbed the bace of his cock too busy looking over his face, the way his eyes lit up when meeting hers. She gasped in shock when he placed the tip of his cock on her lips.

"Open up, dirty girl" Aegon tapped her lips with his cock. Olira opened her mouth enough for him to begin pushing his cock inside of her mouth. Aegon deciding to be gentle moved his cock inside slowly until the hair on the top touched her nose. She pushed him off coughing and chocking much to his amusement.

"I said open up" Aegon delivered a small yet firm tap, almost a slap, to her cheek. She gasped but obeyed his order. He pushed his cock inside of her mouth again massaging her head to comfort her while his own head fell back with a loud groan.

"Now suck, dirty girl"

The unexpected change in Aegon's attitude did not go unnoticed in the Red Keep. The court was abuzz with whispers and speculations about the prince's sudden transformation. He had gone from being openly opposed to his betrothal to Olira Baratheon to becoming positively smitten with her.

Alicent Hightower, Queen of Westeros, observed her son's transformation with a mixture of surprise and satisfaction. She had orchestrated this betrothal for the sake of political unity and stability, but seeing Aegon genuinely taken with Olira was a pleasant surprise.

Aegon's courtship of Olira was a marked departure from his usual pursuits of wine and women. He showered her with attention, gifting her flowers of various colors and varieties, each bouquet more exquisite than the last. He composed heartfelt letters, seeking her company at every opportunity, and displayed an uncharacteristic tenderness when they were together.

Olira, who had initially been taken aback by Aegon's earlier behavior, found herself touched by his gestures and drawn to his newfound gentleness. She realized that beneath his brash exterior, there was a man capable of genuine affection and kindness.

As the wedding date drew nearer, Aegon's enthusiasm for the union only grew. The court could hardly believe the transformation in the young prince, who was now eagerly anticipating his marriage to Olira. Some whispered that love had blossomed between them, while others attributed it to Olira's charm and influence.

The queen herself was pleased with the turn of events. Aegon's affection for Olira had brought a sense of unity and harmony to the court, and she had no doubt that their union would strengthen the bonds between House Targaryen and House Baratheon.

And so, as the day of their wedding approached, Aegon and Olira stood on the precipice of a new chapter in their lives. The young prince, once opposed to the match, was now eager to become the husband of the woman who had captured his heart. Their love, unexpected as it may have been, had the potential to shape the future of Westeros in ways no one could have foreseen.

[poppadom0912]

Together (X)

Warnings: Mentions of violence, blood, injuries, abuse, kidnappings, shootings, swearing and scary men.

Summary: Everyone's reunited at last and are never letting go.

A/N: This is the last chapter before the epilogue. I just wanna reiterate how much fun writing this has been and how much i appreciate all the love and support you've shown this series.

It's a bit too late for my liking but I've only now finished writing. This week was so busy for me but I promised and here it is!

Enjoy the last 2.5k words of angst because the epilogue is next!!🙃😊

Previous Chapter / Series Masterlist / Next Chapter

Kelly was bursting through the seams with anxiety. The entire time while responding to the car pile-up, he was riddled with it and the tension he harboured carried through to everyone else.  

It put him at somewhat ease to know at least Sylvie and Violet were with you as well as Intelligence and then eventually everyone at Med. You were going to be surrounded by people you loved and vice versa.  

When the scene started to get cleared up, Boden wasted no time and let Kelly go, urging him to take his buggy and promising everyone would be there once everything was finished.  

The second Kelly stepped into the ED, April was at his side and guiding him towards the ICU where you were being kept for now. On the way up, she carefully explained what she knew and warned him about your appearance.  

Kelly didn't know what to think till he saw your face for himself and God, he wanted to bring hell onto earth.  

Jay heard his soft steps, picking up his head from the back of the chair. Kelly wouldn't say it to his face, but Jay looked horrible, eye bags dark and sullen, hair uncombed and frizzy and injury wise, the bandages told him enough. Somehow, Jay looked worse than what he did yesterday when Kelly last saw him.  

Upon seeing the lieutenant, Jay tiredly smiled at him, easing himself out of his chair and half limped out the room with the IV pole in his left hand. Kelly went forward hastily to help him, telling him to sit back down or help him out the room into another seat but Jay shrugged him off, weakly pushing his efforts away. 

“Go be with my sister you dumbass. April’s here to help me, don’t worry.” 

And with that, he watched his childhood friend help support his supposed soon to be brother-in-law down the white hallways of the intensive care unit. 

Kelly's eyes burned when he first caught sight of you. The last time he saw you was on the video he'd been sent of you screaming as you were being beaten up.  

Gosh, Kelly had felt so helpless and still feels as such.  

Sitting in the chair Jay had previously been inhabiting, Kelly took his time to fully study you, memorising every feature of your face once again in fear of having you ripped out his grasp again.  

You looked so different. Kelly knew your body by the back of his hand and had your every single detail down to the cell engraved into the forefront of his mind. You looked so different but so recognisable, there was no mistaking that this sleeping woman was indeed you.  

Six hours ago, everyone was ready to mourn the oldest and the youngest Halstead. Despite the resilience Intelligence bleed, everyone had been told to prepare for the worst and six hours ago, all hope was lost and giving up seemed so sweet but so sour it still stung now.  

Kelly hesitated, hand hovering mid-air over yours, eyes cast down on your battered body that he could only see little of. Healing scabs and scars alike marred your hands, the sight making him falter, wondering if it was even a good idea to hold your hand. But then the last two days flashed in his eyes and without another thought, he gently placed your hand in his.  

Relief washed over him in waves, flooding his veins. This sensation felt so bittersweet, the sweet poking the tears from his eyes and the bitter nipping at his ankles. To have you back in his vicinity, to have you back home, Kelly never wanted anything so badly before in his life. Despite this, you had been through the ringer, experiencing pain like no other, pain that you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy.

Actually, the Murray’s deserve worse, maybe the devil himself. Hell and a bit more sounded sufficient enough.

With his hand safely enveloping yours, Kelly felt himself calming down. Even with all the machinery beeping around him, to feel your pulse against his fingers made this dream a reality.

Soft knocking brought him out of his thoughts. Reluctantly pulling his eyes away from you, Kelly found Sylvie standing at the door with two coffees in hand, Violet nowhere in sight.

“Maggie said I can’t give this to Jay, so…” Sylvie said, dragging the word as she held out the paper cup towards him, shrugging her shoulders sheepishly when Kelly smirked in amusement.

“Thanks Brett.” Kelly smiled, gladly taking the caffeine from her hands, and drinking with no hesitation. Truth be told, no one in the firehouse slept much last night, they had too much playing on their minds.

“Crocket said surgery went well.” Sylvie started, standing by your head, fingers caressing your hair as she gently pulled each tangle apart one by one. “I know it doesn’t look like it but she’s going to be fine.”

There was a pregnant pause, Sylvie’s attention diverted and solely on detangling your matted hair before bringing a washcloth that sat on the table to get rid of any residue and dirt stuck on your face. Her trained fingers were put to work, her eyes not once leaving your face as she continued without stopping.

“She’s going to be just fine.”

*****

Kevin was overwhelmed, so was Kim and Hailey but much less so than the aforementioned man. The rest of the team, well they were off busy with the Murray’s and their many, many (somehow attained) henchmen.

The two women were bystanders in it all, coming much later and missing out the most brutal parts. The same could not be said for Kevin and Will.

The two men were following Jay out the warehouse but at a much slower pace. Kevin was supporting Will as best he could, apologising every time the doctor winced and faltered in his steps. Eventually, Jay got so far ahead that he disappeared and very likely was already outside and getting you into the single ambulance waiting.

All of a sudden, the silence that was only interrupted by Will expressing his pain was intruded by gunfire.

They really couldn’t catch a break, could they?

Will apparently remembered the hallways and pointed out a dead-end corridor for them to take cover in and despite his pain riddled brain, he wasn’t wrong.

Without any hesitation, Kevin drew his gun from his holster and shot when necessary and whenever he found someone lurking nearby. Without diverting his attention, he grabbed his walkie and called for backup, relaying both in code and not what was happening.  

Eventually when some time had passed, way too long for Kevin to be comfortable with, Kim and Hailey appeared from around the corner, guns held up in caution before they lowered at the sight of the officer.  

Despite having everything under control, Kevin felt better having his colleagues with him now that Jay was gone. With their help, together they could probably get Will out quicker.  

Now that everything calmed down, Kevin could finally solely put his focus onto said man. Turning his back to the two women, Kevin went to talk to the redhead but found himself speechless at the sight he was met with.  

Lord knows how but up above was a window that some crazy henchman busted his way through and had silently landed on the ground behind him. The man was dressed in all black, blonde hair pocking from the mask he wore armed with both a gun and knife.  

Worst of all, the unnamed and very much unwelcomed man was way too close to Will for Kevin's liking.  

Before Kevin could properly take care of the dude, a shot was fired, and the man fell very ungracefully onto the solid floor, the sound of the impact making all the intelligence personnel internally wince.  

With the nuisance out of the way and no more pathetic distractions, Kevin turned to the redheaded man once again and the sight made him sick. So sick that he had to bite his tongue and hold back any bile from coming up.  

Kim and Hailey clearly felt the same, both gasping from behind him.  

The annoying man had been left ‘alone’ with Will for plenty long enough because along with all his injuries, another gaping wound had been added. Will was riddled in open wounds, the longer you stared the worse they looked. This one, instead of sitting among the others in his torso, was nicely placed in his thigh which conveniently was just above where Jay had been shot.  

It seemed very convenient that every place on his body that had a wound were the places that bled the most. Will was having so much fun right now.

“Shit! Will!” Kevin rushed to kneel down before the slouched man. Chucking his gun and radio aside, quite carelessly, his brain short circuited before everything kicked in.

“Pressure.” Will coughed out, visibly struggling to keep breathing steadily. “You- you need to put pressure on it.” He repeated, wheezing as he liked his chapped and pale lips.

Without question, Hailey hastily took off the thin jacket she was wearing, rushing forward, and kneeling besides Kevin. With caution and slight apprehension, she positioned the jacket around his thigh but hesitated when she was supposed to tie it.

“This is going to hurt Will.” She said firmly, her strong tone warning him.

“The tighter…” Will started, slowly blinking up at the blonde woman who he knew secretly liked his brother and vice versa. “The better.”

And with that, Hailey tied the simplest knot and pulled hard.

“Fuck!” Will exclaimed, voice breaking. “Motherfucker-“

“Sorry! I’m so sorry but it’s all done.” Hailey incessantly apologised to him; her remorse visible on her face but before she could get up, she was stopped by a hand gripping her wrist.

“You have to go tighter.” Will stated, his fingers clutching her wrist as tight as he could but Hailey barely felt any weight. “Just like a torniquet. It has- has to be tight or else…”

“Will, stay with us man.” Kevin said, his tone leaking with urgency, almost pleading him. “You’re the doctor, walk us through it.”

Forcing his eyes open, Will blearily started at the three of them. His mind was completely muddled and subconsciously, he incredulously wondered how they hadn’t been trained to make a tourniquet in the field.

“Belt?”

Without further say, Kevin was getting up to unbuckle his belt easier, Kim replacing his space.

With much struggled, many pauses and tons of encouragement, they kept him alert enough for him to guide them through making a tourniquet around his thigh. The pain was unbearable, altogether it was blinding.

“I’m so sorry Will.” Kim whispered, sitting in front of him but she was alone with him, Kevin and Hailey gone off to find what was taking the medical attention so long to arrive. “Just a little longer I swear.”

“Jay! Stop panicking.”

“Hailey, it’s Will-“

“We’ve got him, go be with Y/N.”

“But Will- are you sure?”

“He’s trying his best, okay? Go be with our girl.”

And that might’ve been the last thing Will heard, the faint shouting between the two detective partners. Kim’s voice actually, he heard that last, her shouts for help when his eyes slid shut.

Actually, Jay’s desperate pleading, that was the last thing he heard.

*****

"It was part of protocol we run a rape kit."

Kelly couldn't breathe. His only saving grace being that Jay wasn't currently in the room with him.

"It came out clean."

Kelly physically deflated at the good news.

"It's going to take a while but she will recover. They both will." Ethan said, having permission from Crocket to tell him the news.

"And no one's heard anything about Will yet?"

The silence was so suffocating, if Kelly squinted, he could probably see Ethan turning blue from the lack of oxygen.

"We've been told we're waiting on a body. They want us to confirm it."

Kelly didn't need to ask for Ethan to break it down for him. He knew exactly what that meant.

If he looked the Korean man in the eye, Kelly would definitely see a thin sheen of tears coating his eyes.

*****

Antonio had been doing this for a long time, he’d seen and been through a lot himself but this, this would stay with him for a long time.

The guttural screams that tore his vocal cords to further damage. The blood trailed after him like the bread from Hansel and Gretel, painting the crime scene a war zone. His cries begging to know his baby brother and sister were safe and, in a hospital, where they could recover.

They were watching the innocent doctor become a martyr right before their very own eyes.

What happened next could only be explained by pure, sheer will and determination.

While they were hounding for an ambulance, Antonio caught men getting escorted away in cuffs, all looking identical until the final two men left the building. The rage he felt, Antonio didn’t know how any of them remained stationary.

It was a miracle Will came back to consciousness. When he closed his eyes and his body went limp, everyone truly thought that was it, after everything the Halstead’s had done to survive, this was the unhappy ending they were getting. But then, Will gave the biggest middle finger to fate because after all of this, she could be damned for all he could care.

Will remained alert enough, being continuously roused by each of the remaining intelligence members when they noticed his eyelids sliding shut. They tried distracting him, updating him on the wellbeing of his siblings, news that was happily provided.

The only ones that remained was Antonio and Kevin. The rest had been forced to accompany Jay just in case, they were all preparing for the worse case scenario. And Hank, he was making sure the bastards never got to see the light of day ever again.

Ten minutes passed. By now, it had been two hours since they got on the scene and an hour since they raided the warehouse. The more Will struggled; the more Antonio was losing his patience. Right before the naked eye, out in the open for the entire universe to see, Will was bleeding out; he was dying. Death was looming, crawling from a mile away but its stench was strong, it’s shadow too close for comfort.

Making eye contact with Kevin, they had a silent conversation and with no argument, they were lifting Will up and nearly carrying him towards the car.

This was their last chance and they weren’t going to wait for that ambulance anymore.

And for once, fate guided them with a beaming light. She overturned the hatred she'd shown and led them safely, holding out a much-needed lifeline.

And so when the car screeched to a halt at Med’s ambulance bay doors, Will found it easier to breathe.

Series Masterlist:

@mads-weasley @sowrongitslottie @elite4cekalyma @senjoritanana @hufflepuff-blackwidow @mrspeacem1nusone @kmc1989 @goth-cowgirl-03 @daggersquadphantom @photographerkaiya0306 @jamie0515 @samanthavitale @iamasimpingh0e @lanea-1 @swidkid @jamie0515

[flowerandblood]

The Impossible Choice (50)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

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

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

After speaking with Royce, she felt much better. They hugged for the first time since their father's death and cried in each other's arms, sharing their pain at last. She felt relieved that Royce had opened up to her and not pushed her away despite his suffering, believing, as he always did, in her sincere and good intentions.

Her brother had revealed to her in shame that Lord Greyjoy and his granddaughter were to arrive in King's Landing for Prince Daeron's funeral, which was to take place the following day.

Royce was apprehensive and embarrassed; he had experience with women, but only purely physical, and walks in the gardens were not in his nature.

He feared that the woman from the Iron Islands would be coarse and insolent in her behaviour, humiliating him at every turn.

She was surprised to realise that her brother was asking her for advice in some ambiguous way, embarrassed, not knowing how he should behave. She thought long on her answer, not wanting to say anything hastily.

She thought about how she had felt when she had arrived at the Red Keep.

Like an object.

Sold to her future husband, who had the right to show his displeasure if she did not meet his expectations, having the right to possess her body even if she did not want it.

She realised reflecting on how lucky she was that her husband had such a weakness for her from the beginning.

She knew that if Ellyn had been in her place, she would not have been able to stand it all and would have fallen into despair.

She swallowed loudly at the thought.

"Put yourself in her place. A free woman comes to King's Landing to be enslaved and to meet her future master. She can take three tactics: either to try to please you, to distance herself from you, or to show you outright that she despises you and will never break. I distanced myself from my husband, wanting to show him that he doesn't have power over me and that I don't need his affection." She said thoughtfully. Royce looked at her with his lips clenched, embarrassed.

They had never discussed it.

"First of all, show her respect. Don't pay compliments or insult her with displeased looks or grimaces. Show her that you are a man of honour, strong and determined, but respectful of her boundaries. Show her that if she needs distance at first, sure as you are, you are able to offer it. Show her that you are not desperate to get her affection, but at the same time that if she desires to get close to you, you will give her a chance." She finally finished her statement by looking at him. He sighed heavily, as if relieved, and massaged his forehead.

"Yes, you're right. I shouldn't be desperate. Gods, let her be at least a little pleasing to my eye." He muttered under his breath and sat back on his bureau, sighing.

Royce reached out to her and she gave him her hand, his lips pressed against her skin in an act of respect and brotherly love.

"My wise little sister." He said with pride and pain at the same time.

She left his chamber filled with hope for the first time in days – she felt that she had won both him and her husband back, and she needed nothing else for happiness.

She looked down at her already slightly rounded abdomen and stroked it, heading for her and her husband's rooms.

She stepped inside and immediately saw how sullen and tense he was – his healthy eye was fixed on her as if to ask what she had been doing with her brother for so long.

She tried not to show any amusement on her face at the thought that after a year of marriage, her husband was still jealous of Royce.

She recognised that she wanted to reward him for his trust, for trying hard to tame his possessive side for her.

"– do you wish to take a bath, husband? –" She asked quietly, and his gaze momentarily softened.

This was their intimate time of greatest closeness, a moment just for them, where her attention was devoted to him alone.

He hummed under his breath and nodded almost invisibly. She summoned the servants and instructed them to fetch and fill the tub with hot water.

Her treatments worked – she saw him momentarily relax, his face expressing peace and relief as she pulled his eye patch from his head. She took her time washing his hair, rubbing it with oils, her hands roaming his cheeks once in a while.

She smiled under her breath, feeling him flinch slightly as she did so, pleasant shivers passing through him from her gentle touch.

"How is your brother feeling?" He asked suddenly and she looked at him surprised, not expecting him to want to broach the subject.

She figured she would simply answer truthfully, not wanting to give him the feeling that her attention was once again turning away from him.

She rinsed his hair with water one last time and went around the tub, sitting down next to him on the wooden stool, dipping her hand into the already not-so-hot water along with the cloth.

"He’s trying to manage, but the new responsibilities are overwhelming him. He’s afraid of marriage and he’s afraid he won’t make it as a commander. As a Lord." She said, wiping his arm slowly. She saw that his eye opened, he looked at her thoughtfully for a moment.

"He's been preparing for this all his life." He said indifferently, however, there was no mockery or accusation in his voice.

She looked at him, wondering if he was trying to comfort her in this uncharacteristic way.

She knew that getting the words out of him was difficult and time-consuming.

She swallowed quietly, thinking about what he had said.

"You weren't afraid before we got married? After your father died?" She asked uncertainly, dipping her hand in the water again, and he pressed his lips together.

There was silence between them for a moment, and she was frightened that she had somehow offended or frustrated him. She wanted to add something already, but he preceded her and answered her first.

"My real father died in Eyrie."

She lifted her gaze to him, stopping in mid-motion, unsure if she had heard correctly.

She analysed the sentence he had said in her head, but couldn't make out its meaning, her heart pounding like mad.

Seeing her disbelief and confusion, he pressed his lips together in embarrassment, looking away. She heard him swallow loudly.

"I told him, then, when I threatened him, that even though my mother treats you as if you were her daughter, he doesn’t treat me like his son." He said carefully, his voice trembling slightly at the very end of the sentence.

She felt a strong sting in her heart because she had never thought he was thinking of it that way.

She was convinced that he and her father resented each other and tolerated themselves only for her sake.

It would never have crossed her mind that her husband could desire his favours, not after what he had said to him in Storm's End.

"− Aemond −" It came out of her mouth like a plea for him to stop, she felt tears welling up in her eyes again, her stomach clenched tight in pain.

She wasn't sure she could think about it now, after what had happened, now that her father was no longer with them.

Her husband, however, looked shaken, running his hand over his chin as he stared ahead with his eye wide open.

"− ever since that night when he saved me, I have imagined what would have happened if my father had sent me as he sent Daeron, only not to Old Town, but to Storm’s End − if, after I had lost my eye, he had stated that I needed, as a future Lord Commander of my brother’s army, to learn the art of war, so that I could watch from the sidelines how the best army in Westeros, the Baratheon army, functioned −" He muttered in one breath, as if the words were pouring out of him in a torrent, making her gasp completely for a moment.

She stared at him with her lips parted, her hands on the edge of the tub involuntarily clenched into fists from stress and pain.

She couldn't believe what he was saying, his words simultaneously rejoicing and hurting her.

"− If Borros had shared with me everything he himself knew, if I could have trained with Royce, if I could… −" He said and didn't finish, glancing at her again, as if only now remembering that she was really beside him. His gaze frightened her.

Broken, infinitely sad, deep.

"−… get to know you sooner − maybe then… −" He muttered, his voice breaking so hopelessly that she felt like she was about to burst into tears.

"−…maybe then I would have been a different person −" He mumbled, burying his face in his hand.

The way he said those words and their meaning was so striking to her that for a moment she was at a loss for words.

Her hand, by natural reflex, touched his shoulder, his face, his cheek, stroking him, wanting to reassure him, soothe him, not expecting completely that he felt anything towards her father, that he felt something when he saw him die.

This realisation came upon her suddenly and crushed her, his words and self-awareness startling her so much that she struggled to get any words out.

"− my beloved − I wish so much that this was true − I wish so much that I had met you sooner −" She whispered, letting her tears flow.

She wished that his dream could come true, that he could fly to Storm's End when she was a child, that he could experience the comfort and affection of her father and brother, that he could truly be part of their family.

She thought it was a beautiful vision and that surely she would have fallen in love with him much earlier, that everything would have been different.

Their first kiss, their wedding night, their whole life.

She squealed loudly when he suddenly got up from the water, grabbing her in his arms, getting out of the tub and heading towards the bed with her.

They were both breathing heavily, hugging each other tightly even though his body had soaked the entire front of her gown. He laid her down on the bed, kneeling over her and began to undress her, looking at her with a gaze she had never seen from him before.

He was vulnerable.

"− I would have taken you for myself sooner − I would have kissed you in the cold corridors of your father’s fortress −" He breathed out pulling her top gown off her. She felt a squeeze between her thighs at his words and immense embarrassment, having the feeling that her cheeks had ignited with scarlet as she slipped her bottom skirt off.

She imagined them kissing somewhere in a dark alley of the fortress in Storm's End and felt her moisture run down her buttocks onto the sheets beneath her.

She squealed quietly as her husband suddenly pressed his lips to hers in a hot, possessive, desperate kiss, as if he himself was his thoughts in his imaginings.

He didn't even wait a moment, aroused as she was, her body trembled all over as she felt the his fat erection push hungrily against her pulsing, swollen entrance. He opened her wide on his cock with ease and she arched her back, a quiet mewl escaping her lips.

"− would you visit me in my chamber? − in my bed? −" He hummed into her mouth, sucking and licking her puffy, fleshy lips. She felt his question between in her thighs, her walls clenched tight against him as he rooted into her like mad.

He groaned feeling it, his hips sped up, fucking her quickly and chaotically with a loud slapping of flesh against flesh, bringing out her perverted, pathetic sounds.

"− yes, gods, you know I would −" She mewled embarrassed by her words, by the fact that she knew it was true, responding greedily to each thrust of his hips.

She was imagining that she had in fact come to him to take her, to give her pleasure, in secret from her father and siblings.

She was humiliatingly close to fulfilment.

"− I would be your prince − brother − lover − fuck! −" He hissed, and she felt downright spasms of pleasure run through her body at what he was saying.

If someone else had said similar things to her she would have felt embarrassed, but now, with him, she wanted nothing more than for him to fuck her harder and faster, his erection throbbing and swollen like never before, marvellously stretching her walls.

"− A-Aemond − oh gods −" She mumbled out with difficulty, feeling him speed up his pace, slamming into her brutally and loudly, his hand clenched on her leg not allowing her to escape, rolling of his hips rubbed a wonderful spot inside her, making her head spin.

"− fuck, fuck, fuck −" He exhaled loudly, biting his lower lip as if what he was saying was his innermost desire, his darkest secret.

This realisation made her clench her eyelids shut and tilt her head back with a sigh, her insides began to clamp down on him frantically in an orgasm that coursed through her body like a storm, the moans and sobs that erupted from her throat were so loud that a part of her subconscious felt ashamed.

She was unable to focus on it, her misty eyes looked up at the face of her husband, who was looking down at her with parted lips, clearly having the same vision as her. She heard his throaty moan, his eyebrows arched as if in pain, and then she felt him come inside her, his hot spend filling her insides.

"− my sweetest − shhh −" He whispered tenderly trying to soothe her, she struggled to catch her breath, her body suddenly soft and light, numb.

"− Aemond −"

Prince Daeron's funeral was one of the most sorrowful events she had attended since her own mother's funeral. At the time, however, she had understood little of what was happening; now that realisation made her perceive it even worse. She felt sorry for her husband's family, she even felt sorry for Aegon seeing that he was unable to burn his younger brother's body.

However, in the end, he did.

She was surprised at how he addressed Helaena and how she addressed him.

It seemed to her that their relationship had warmed and she wondered if her husband shared this view.

Aegon had ordered a small feast for his family and guests who had chosen to honour his brother's death. As soon as they entered the great hall, however, her gaze was not focused on what was happening at their table, but on finding Royce.

She spotted him suddenly, seated next to some woman she was seeing for the first time − her black gown was simple and elegant, her hair tied back in a simple bun, both of them drinking wine, looking ahead, but their lips were moving.

They were conversing.

She thought the woman's face was pleasant and similar to their mother's, her hair and eyes dark, her body was shapely and pleasant. She may not have been petite, however her figure was very feminine.

She wondered hopefully if Royce would like her, if they would find common ground, however, it seemed that so far neither of them looked upset or angry.

She shuddered as the door suddenly opened, one of the guards stepping inside and announcing that one of her sisters had just arrived at the Red Keep. She smiled broadly and corrected herself in her seat, confident that as the eldest daughter it was Cassandra who had taken on the role.

She felt a cold sweat on her neck and a powerful tightening in her stomach when she saw Floris, smiling under her breath, walking proudly down the stairs in a beautiful emerald gown with buff, slit sleeves, the neckline of her gown under her breasts covered by her undershirt, her hair combed into an intricate braid.

She dressed just like her.

She knew that this cut of dress had been worn by their mother and that each of their sisters had the right to wear it, that any woman could comb her hair in a similar way, however, she was unable to stop the pain of humiliation that spread through her body.

She glanced frightened at her husband, his hand soothingly stroking her lower abdomen, as if he knew what she was thinking, knew what she was feeling.

Was this how her husband felt when he looked at Luke?

Was this what he felt when he thought of him?

The perpetually crushing, overpowering humiliation?

She watched helplessly as her sister, dressed shamelessly in the Hightower colours now, that everyone was dressed in black, wrapped Aegon around her finger, insulting her husband in the process.

She watched as Aegon easily caught on to her tricks, watching her with eyes full of satisfaction.

She knew what he was thinking.

She was similar enough to her to satisfy him.

She cast an anxious glance at Royce and saw that he was looking at her too.

They were both thinking the same thing.

She tried to eat something, but was unable to, feeling her heart pounding hard as she heard Floris speaking with Aegon on the side, pretending to settle with him how and when their father's body would be transported to Storm's End.

"…of course I understand the rush, however, I want to pay your heroic father respect and a burial worthy of a King. I want to organise an entire retinue for him to escort him with you to Storm's End, my Lady." He said softly and she rolled her eyes, feeling sick, frustration and tension filling her body.

She was furious.

"You are too kind, my King." Floris whispered in such a way that she clenched her eyes shut.

She knew what she was doing, she knew what she wanted.

Floris wanted to land in the King's bed, and she didn't even realise how straight the road to it led.

She probably considered it her great success and achievement without even realising how many whores and servants Aegon had fucked so far, and his interest in her was because she was similar to the woman he had fallen in love with.

"Are you feeling well?" She heard her husband's low voice beside her and looked up at him, realising that for a moment she had completely forgotten about him. His gaze expressed something she had never seen before.

Concern.

"No. This is some sort of nightmare." She mumbled hiding her face in her hands, shaking her head.

She saw the way Alicent looked at her sister, she knew what she was thinking about, and she was right.

They were at the young prince's funeral feast, having to pay their respects to him, and she was just seducing the King, much to his delight. She looked at Helaena and saw that she was staring blankly ahead, pretending not to see or hear anything.

She felt as if she was now feral and over-stimulated, unable to focus on anything, her husband's hand again soothingly stroked her womb.

"Let's go to our chamber. You shouldn't upset yourself in your condition." He said remarkably softly for his usual way of speaking, having never seen her in such a state before.

She sighed heavily and nodded, then they both stood up, heading for the side entrance. Her husband let her go ahead, putting his hand on her back for a moment as if to let her know that he was there for her, that he understood what she was feeling.

"Brother, sister, are you leaving us already?" She heard Aegon's soft, surprisingly pleased voice.

Her husband pressed his lips together at his words.

"My wife, who is expecting my child, felt worse. She needs to rest." He said with emphasis on the fact that she was expecting his offspring, and she immediately understood why he had done so.

Floris swallowed hard, looking down at her womb, only now noticing that indeed her abdomen was slightly rounded. She placed her hand there with contentment and smiled, feeling a pleasant wave of satisfaction.

"Aren't you going to congratulate me, sister?" She cooed, repeating words her husband had said to his brother.

She saw Aegon look at her shocked, his cheeks flushed red. Floris swallowed loudly, the realisation of humiliation spreading across her face − she could almost sense how her husband's dangerous, menacing, wide grin stretched across his face at her question.

"Congratulations, dear sister. May the labour be easy." She said quietly, looking somewhere to the side on the floor, nodding.

She approached her elder sister slowly, placing her hand on her shoulder as if in a gesture of tenderness and closeness, her smile not leaving her face.

"I am sure that you too will soon live to see your child, sweet sister. From the righteous bed, I reckon." She said so softly and warmly that Floris smiled, only after a moment understanding what her sister had actually said, the corners of her mouth slowly dropping in disbelief.

She heard behind her as her husband involuntarily snorted with laughter at her words, clearly delighted with his wife's behaviour and what he had taught her.

She threw a smile to Aegon, who swallowed loudly, clearly horrified at how easily she had guessed his thoughts, and turned, heading lightly towards the entrance, her husband walking a few paces behind her. She threw him a warm, happy look, amusement and pride on his face.

"My wife can breathe fire." He muttered lowly, his eye glowing dangerously in the torchlight in the corridor around them as they walked. She looked ahead with a content smile.

"Fire and Blood."

_____

Taglist 1

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @tempt-ress @ahristata @menaosama @queenofshinigamis @dark-night-sky-99

[ukdamo]

Judas Iscariot

Countee Cullen

I think when Judas' mother heard His first faint cry the night That he was born, that worship stirred Her at the sound and sight. She thought his was as fair a frame As flesh and blood had worn; I think she made this lovely name For him— "Star of my morn."

As any mother's son he grew From spring to crimson spring; I think his eyes were black, or blue, His hair curled like a ring. His mother's heart-strings were a lute Whereon he all day played; She listened rapt, abandoned, mute, To every note he made.

I think he knew the growing Christ, And played with Mary's son, And where mere mortal craft sufficed, There Judas may have won. Perhaps he little cared or knew, So folly-wise is youth, That He whose hand his hand clung to Was flesh-embodied Truth;

Until one day he heard young Christ, With far-off eyes agleam, Tell of a mystic, solemn tryst Between Him and a dream. And Judas listened, wonder-eyed, Until the Christ was through, Then said, “And I, though good betide, Or ill, will go with you."

And so he followed, heard Christ preach, Saw how by miracle The blind man saw, the dumb got speech, The leper found him well. And Judas in those holy hours, Loved Christ, and loved Him much, And in his heart he sensed dead flowers Bloom at the Master's touch.

And when Christ felt the death hour creep, With sullen, drunken lurch, He said to Peter, "Feed my sheep, And build my holy church.” He gave to each the special task That should be his to do, But reaching one, I hear him ask, “What shall I give to you?”

Then Judas in his hot desire Said, "Give me what you will." Christ spoke to him with words of fire, “Then, Judas, you must kill, One whom you love, One who loves you As only God's son can: This is the work for you to do To save the creature man."

"And men to come will curse your name, And hold you up to scorn; In all the world will be no shame Like yours; this is love's thorn. It takes strong will of heart and soul, But man is under ban. Think, Judas, can you play this role In heaven's mystic plan?"

So Judas took the sorry part, Went out and spoke the word, And gave the kiss that broke his heart, But no one knew or heard. And no one knew what poison ate Into his palm that day, Where, bright and damned, the monstrous weight Of thirty white coins lay.

It was not death that Judas found Upon a kindly tree; The man was dead long ere he bound His throat as final fee. And who can say if on that day When gates of pearl swung wide, Christ did not go His honoured way With Judas by His side?

I think somewhere a table round Owns Jesus as its head, And there the saintly twelve are found Who followed where He led. And Judas sits down with the rest, And none shrinks from His hand, For there the worst is as the best, And there they understand.

And you may think of Judas, 'friend, As one who broke his word, Whose neck came to a bitter end For giving up his Lord. But I would rather think of him As the little Jewish lad Who gave young Christ heart, soul, and limb, And all the love he had.

[foursaints]

i follow the rosekiller tag so sometimes posts about them hit my dash and i read them & my only thought is 'tumblr person foursaints wouldn't do this to me' these boys are strange. crooked. rotten. alive. dead. you get it. so happy someone else sees them this way too.

you’re so wise anon… rosekiller has this innate austere ghoulishness that i don’t think incorrect quotes can capture… those are two sullen pureblood children raised in empty estates by hard-handed private tutors… and both of them have gone deeply wrong inside…

one is a violent delinquent who is also a charming prefect making disconcertingly perfect grades & the other is the school’s dark-magic nobody who quietly disdains everyone (and only talks to his twin) <-scientifically perfect dynamic. why would you tamper with this

[legacygirlingreen]

Part 4, Chapter 6: Repository II //Sebastian Sallow x Reader

A/N: hi friends! Next repository chapter is up! I really struggle with action writing so I apologize but I hope you enjoy! I’m really anxious to hear people’s thought on my decisions in this chapter so please let me know what you liked, didn’t see coming, etc!

Also @animasola86 gets credits for Sebastian in the cover art!

The audio version of this chapter can be found here

Masterlist to the full series found here

Warnings: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, descriptions of bodily harm, seriously it’s gross fam…

Word count: 5k

As if the first scream he had to hear wasn’t bad enough a few seconds after he heard a second one. Granted not quite as loud and violent, but still chilling as the next room seemed to continue collapsing. He needed to hurry.

“At least take a wiggenweld mate,” Leander said, holding out a bottle. Normally he’d be skeptical of a potion coming from Garreth or a close friend of the boy, but given the circumstances Sebastian graciously took and downed its contents. The potion didn’t fully heal the injury, but it did slow the bleeding. 

“Mr. Sallow, I really must advise against this. Rushing into danger in general is not wise, certainly not while injured” Professor Fig spoke and he shook his head. 

“You’ve never stopped her before for doing the same. With all due respect sir, she is my priority. And while we sit here arguing, she could be injured. This is just a minor wound, it’ll be fine” he reasoned as he spat out the response. The notion he should sit back and let the girl face her death makes the words turn sour on his tongue. 

“You and I both know this is not what she would want Mr. Sallow” Fig continued to argue with him and Sebastian turned away from the man before hauling himself up so he could mount Highwing once more. 

“Yeah? And what about what I want? I certainly don’t intend on dragging her mangled and lifeless body from this cavern simply because you think she should face ranrok alone” he said. 

“Your uncle” Sharp cut in and he rolled his eyes.

“Precisely. She might as well be alone. In fact, I feel more concerned knowing that man is with her. So now that everyone has addressed their objections, they are duly noted. I’m going” Sebastian said as he lifted off the ground, the hippogriff hovering as he swallowed in a shaky breath. Knowing the entrance to the cavern had been blocked by falling debris, he knew he'd have to find another way around. 

“We can search to the left of the entrance if you’d like to go right” Poppy offered. As Sebastian turned to see that she had helped Imelda onto the back of the beast alongside her. 

“Fine. But please shout if you find a way in” he said.

“We shall stay here and continue to try and slowly dig out the debris” Professor Weasley quietly informed him. In all his years he’d never seen the woman so dejected. The deputy headmistress always being the pinnacle of authority and confidence, yet now she seemed sullen and nervous. 

“Alright. Someone should probably see what happened to Larson after going to find Officer Singer from Hogsmeade to help” he informed them as Everret nodded, “sounds good Sebastian” he said already heading back towards the mouth of the cave to find his housemate and direct the Aurors down to the cavern that no one outside knew of. 

“Be safe Mr. Sallow” Hecat told him. The woman had always had a soft spot for the boy who showed much promise in her classroom, but watching him repeatedly throw himself into danger without fear caused her to swell with pride. Sebastian probably would’ve acknowledged his favorite professor had he not already gotten out of earshot of the group, desperate to find a way in before it was too late. 

Although, who could hardly blame him with how grim the sounds coming from the repository chamber sounded…

She had hardly been given time to react before the goblin was hurling the corrupted ancient magic in her direction. She had fought his loyalists but had yet to actually be in his line of fire. She had watched him kill Lodgok, his own brother, in a similar manner. She’d be damned if her or Solomon went down in a similar manner. 

It was truly wild how much her mind wandered during the fight. She had faced many opponents with complete concentration on the task at hand, and as she fought this goblin who threatened her world, she couldn’t help but think back on everything that had led up to this moment. She’d crossed paths with him so many times at this point: in the vault, in that alley outside the three broomsticks, in the shadows at rookwood castle, in the mine where Lodgok had died, now. All her hard work in doing the keepers bidding, finding the missing pages with a ghost, the trip to the restricted section - it had all been leading to this moment. 

Yet, she found her mind wandering as she continued to hurl rocks lifted with ancient magic at the goblin. Part of her remembered the poem her father had read to from the papers a few years back, before she even knew of magic.

It matters not how strait the gate, how charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul 

The other part of her kept glancing over and making eye contact with the frozen and terrified ex auror. Until now she had never noticed the way that he had such similar eyes to Sebastian. It was likely due to how often Solomon’s eyes looked angry, but now, seeing the fear in them, she recognized the resemblance. And although in both muggle and wizarding worlds, men showing their emotions so openly was frowned upon, she so deeply loved that her love had continued to be unashamed in showing all of himself to her. The fear, the excitement, the anger, the anxiety, the frustration, the love. His brown eyes had always been such a window into what he was thinking, and after almost a year of knowing him, she could read those eyes so well. Similarly now, the look Solomon was giving her was so reminiscent of the one Sebastian had worn before she left with Poppy. 

And as she tried to shake the thought from her head she could feel the hot and searing feeling against her shoulder as it knocked her to the ground. His corrupted magic stolen from other repositories swirling around her now blood dripping shoulder as she looked in horror,  watching as the goblin shot ahead, striking Bragbor’s container on the walkway in front of them. 

Pushing her now aching limbs she somehow managed to stand, hobbling towards the entrance in an effort to gain backup. There was no way she could fight Ranrok alone now that he had stolen the magic Isadora created.

“Run!” She tried to warn Solomon but it was too late. The goblin had already taken the magic as a bright flash filled the room. The eruption of the repository caused such a blinding light to fill her vision that she took a few moments to regain vision once more, watching in horror as now the transformed goblin swirled in the midst of the red and black magic. 

Rubble began to fall around them as she heard an almost demonic voice yell “Goblin kind shall answer to no one” before he dived at the platform her and Solomon were on. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Solomon’s body safely landing on the dirt ground as he covered his head with his hands. And then she felt it. The strong force of something large smacking into her chest, knocking the wind from her already damaged lungs as the contact was so intense she felt it in her bones. And then,

Air,

Weightlessness,

Falling. 

She was falling, and doing so, fast

And yet, it was almost as if she could perceive it happening in slow motion. She could nearly count the times her body flipped ankles over her head as she passed the cliff she had once been standing upon. Her mind could fully make out the quickly approaching sharp jagged rocks that would ultimately claim her life when she inevitably smashed into them, for in the fall she had dropped the most important thing she owned: her wand. 

“Arresto Momento!” 

Suddenly suspended in the air, a few yards above the ground she looked back up to see Solomon leaning over the platform. Only his head and shoulders were visible as he looked down the massive cliffside at her body hovering several yards above the ground. 

Even from far away she could see his eye still nearly swollen shut from where she had struck him in the infirmary, but his other one stared down at her wide, seemingly relieved he had caught her. He slowly continued to lower her to the ground safely as she closed her eyes and tried to think of how it was going to be best to proceed. Her wand had been lost and she doubted the keeper's wand would work in the same manner as a normal one. Now was certainly not the time to test it out. 

Her body slowly being lowered to the ground halted at the same time she looked up. Before she had time to process what was happening, once again her body was free falling. Only briefly making out the bright red light coming through the man’s chest before her body violently collided with the ground below. As time slowed once more, she laid on the ground as she experienced the scream tearing from her throat as if she was a passerby. Yet, the intense throbbing in her bones reminded her that no, it was indeed her that was screaming, and it was her body that had fallen to the stones below.

And then, she had an up close viewing of Solomon Sallow’s body crashing to the ground next to her with the most sickening thud she had ever experienced to date. Bones snapping viciously in a manner similar to the way she had broken his nose in the infirmary, except this time it was his legs that created the noise, as they came to rest in opposite directions. And this time when the scream tore from her raw throat, it was in terror as she saw the mangled appearance of Sebastian’s guardian as he lay next to her.

His lifeless brown eyes were still open as she continued to scream while the cavern caved in around them both and the last of her remaining strength was used to hold up a forcefield as the rubble encased their bodies.

Sebastian could remember the first time he’d witnessed ancient magic. It had been in hogsmeade square during the troll attack. The static feeling that charged the air and made the hair on his neck stand up had only relieved itself when she tore lightning from the sky, reducing the troll to ash. His ears had rung for a few seconds as the clap of thunder she conjured had disoriented him while his rapidly blinking eyes had fixated themself on the girl, her newly acquired wand clutched in her hand.

Since then, he’d only seen her use that type of magic on occasion. Usually she tried to learn how to master it in small doses, using restraint as she aimed to learn to use it for productive purposes such as conjuration or healing instead of destructive like the first time he’d seen. Occasionally he’d see things in the room of requirement lifting in mid air as if she had used levioso, but the way she was doing it looked unnatural. Sometimes he’d witness a small flash of light before something like a quill emerge.  But without her abilities it truly was hard to tell what was ancient magic and what was simply spells she had learned during the year. 

And yet, he still had become acclimated to what it felt like to be around such magic, even if he couldn’t physically see it. Ever since christmas he had worn the cufflinks she’d gifted him, and he’d never tell her, but he always felt the slight thumping or hum coming off them every morning when he put them on his dress shirt.  Usually a dull vibration, as if they were alive and full of swarming lacewing flies. But on those rare occasions she did use her magic in his presence they’d warm up, the tingling that lingered on the objects growing more intense, like they were alive and desperately trying to join the stream of magic she was using. 

That had been the real reason he’d grabbed them when he changed in the room of requirement, threading them onto the sleeves of the dark outfit she’d woven for him. And now as he continued to try and find a way to enter the cavern he knew she was fighting that blasted goblin, he could feel them tingling more than he ever had. 

Highwing continued to fly through the cavern as he searched for a possible opening. It dawned on him that the last time he had physically laid eyes on her was when she left with Poppy after class.  And since that moment he’d experienced such a whirlwind. He had went to collect rings in order to secure their future, bought a very dismantled home to share some day and while riding the high of such a wonderful thing his world had collapsed. Arriving into feldcroft amidst a battle only to discover that not only was his whole family gone, but she hadn’t been seen. 

And then when he finally did get back to the school Fig had roped him into dealing with the Keepers as he worried for her safety and Professor Sharp’s ability to save her. Only to return and be locked in with the other students knowing she’d only barely been patched up before going to fight Ranrok and the entire goblin armada. Unfortunately it seemed they had so often almost crossed paths in this entire mess of a situation and yet continued to fight their own battles separately. 

In the chaos he also hadn’t had time to actually process what Poppy had told him. His Uncle. Solomon had known. And Even worse, the man had intended for him to take the curse over Anne. As Highwing continued to fly he really did wonder what his life would be like had he had endured the curse this whole time over his twin. Obviously he’d have struggled being back home with Solomon more than Anne, given their history. He wouldn’t have put it past the man to just leave him at St Mungos to rot alone. 

Surely his love would still have come to Hogwarts and been sorted into Slytherin, but would she have befriended Anne? Would Anne still have brought her to visit a sick brother to cheer him up as he had done? And if she did, would the girl look at him with eyes of love or pity…

Despite the horrific events of the year, and the grim circumstances to which they so often found themselves in, he would not trade a thing in the world to see her tired smile as she finally drifted off to sleep leaving behind the massive weight upon her shoulders. He would not trade the fear of holding her bleeding body to his chest at Christmas if it meant losing the beautiful hands that moved through his dark hair when they were alone. 

Even worse he realized he would rather have seen Anne continue to fight this curse than know the love of his life had died in that ashwinder camp. 

Because if you asked Sebastian back in August what his main priority in life was, he easily would’ve answered finding a cure for his sister. But in the quest to find answers for Anne he discovered something beautiful. A kind of love he had never felt. A kind of love those who experience its warmth would die for. A kind of love that healed the deep wounds pressed upon his soul from the tragedies he’d known as a young boy. A kind of love that made the journey of all of Solomon’s abuse somehow worth it, for without it he might not have met her or held on so tightly. 

Every event in his life seemingly now had a purpose, beyond just bringing him pain and torment. For without them, he never would have been in the right place, at the right time, with the right heart to love her. And more importantly, be loved by her. 

With every crash he heard from the wall that separated them, he felt like that beautiful thing to which he found was slowly slipping away. It’s why despite feeling lightheaded as blood continued to stain the wonderful gift she’d made for him, running down his back as it poured out of his right shoulder, he didn’t hesitate. What man would he be if it didn’t do everything in his power to get to the one he loved? What deep sorrow and regret he would be cursed to anguish in if she died alone?

As he neared a waterfall, Highwing attempted to move away from the water stream and just as he passed its refreshing mist he felt a sharp shooting pain on his wrist. Quickly tried to separate the material of his shirt from his wrist despite the way his limp non dominant hand fell to his side. As Sebastian saw the skin underneath he could make out a small blister forming where the inside latch of his cufflinks had burned into his blood soaked skin and he tugged the hippogriff to turn around. 

Reluctantly the creature flew close to the waterfall again and like before the metal heated to the point he could not stand it, casting glacius onto them in efforts to prevent further burning. As he looked ahead he tried to see through the waterfall but was unable due to its heavy stream. 

“Highwing come on” he begged the creature, attempting to urge the proud beast through the stream and it put up a fight, letting out a noise he could only interpret as annoyance before flying through the stream. As they came through the water, and onto the other side Sebastian realized a cavern was hidden away by the waterfall. Highwing moved forward enough to set him down on the solid ground they’d discovered and he stroked her feathers kindly as he hopped off and walked forward. 

“Lumos” he spoke as it echoed off the cave walls. And suddenly like discovering water in the desert he saw it: the rune symbol. To the right a torch became noticeable from the light his wand put off and he shouted confringo at it, before repeating the action on the other side of the symbol. Unlike the doors leading into Isadora’s workshop or even the map chamber this was simply just a simple hovering over a pile of rocks, as if some muggle attempt had been made to create a secondary entrance to the repository for emergencies. 

“Highwing go find the others!” he shouted. If there was one thing he had learned this year, it was that beasts were so much more intelligent than wizards and witches gave them credit for. Because the hippogriff bowed her head at him before running and jumping through the waterfall’s stream once more as she left him. 

Coming forward he began using simple charms to slowly dig the piled up stones from the entrance. As stones began to move one by one he grew weary, putting his wand away and reaching for the wall. Years of working for Solomon had taught him how to use his brute strength sometimes over magic to get things done quickly. Even this past yule when he’d repaired the stone fences in the yard by hand, he realized that sometimes the muggle way was more effective. 

Groaning as he lifted his injured arm he began pushing stone after stone to the ground, frantically digging through the pileup as his arm continued to bleed and his hands started to sting from the cuts he was getting from the jagged edges cutting his palms. 

Every new injury seemed dull in comparison to the way his heart continued to leap as he pushed aside another rock. He had to get through. He had to reach her. And the more stones pushed to the side the louder and louder things became on the other side of the wall. The blasting and crashing only intensified as he heard a very loud and dark voice call out “your pitiful magic is no match for mine, child”. 

Under normal circumstances such a voice would be bone chilling but to him it felt like a relief. It meant one thing: she was still alive.

For now. 

As soon as the falling debris stopped she somehow mustered the strength to stand. Luckily having one last healing potion on her she was able to maintain a hold on the force field long enough to push the rubble away before downing the contents. It didn’t do much, nor did it return the air to her lungs, but it dulled the sting, which for now would have to be enough. Trying desperately to avert her eyes from Solomon’s body as ranrok’s newly transformed body flew about the space, she searched the ground for his wand. After moments of searching she stole a quick glance at his hand seeing he was still clutching it tightly. Gently she moved towards him, muttering a quick prayer to some god or entity despite the man’s malicious actions in life, before closing his eyes and ripping the wand from his grasp. 

“Accio wand” she called out, not expecting much. Her wand likely was crushed in the fall, but when suddenly she felt its energy approaching, she was surprised to see it coming straight for her unharmed. Deciding to pocket Solomon’s for safe keeping to return to the Sallows she quickly looked for cover in case Ranrok came back to pick her off.

Rushing forward along the walkway as the space continued to be filled with the swirls of dark ancient magic she came to an opening, finally seeing ranrok in his new form as he perched at the end. 

The anger of today, coming to a head as she pushed forward. How dare he attack the school? How dare he steal this magic? How dare he threaten the ones she loves? 

Hurling ancient magic at him she watched in horror as he laughed, backing up as he taunted, “so much fire… so much spirit… I shall snuff that out” before shooting a large blast towards her without little time to duck for cover. 

She would have to rethink exactly how to fight him this way. Suddenly she saw large force fields erupting nearby that reminisced the way she had fought the large pensive guards during the keeper trials. Hurling the freezing charm at it, she realized that it did in fact react similarly. If she was going to win this battle, she would need to stay moving and focus on those weak points until she could muster enough ancient magic to subdue him. 

And then she remembered a moment in the room of requirement one day with Sebastian. 

“So this corrupted magic, infused with pain, how do you think you can control it?” Sebastian asked her as he continued to take notes in a journal he’d been keeping on her magic. 

“I’m not sure I even can… Isadora certainly couldn’t. That’s why she contacted Bragbor to build containers for it in the first place” she retorted as she continued to go over something she stole from San Bakaar’s tower on a second lap through. Her frustration with the keepers for remaining tight-lipped had her sneaking back into the tower, steering clear of the portrait, to raid his office. In it he found the man’s notes on the magic in the repositories. 

“But isn’t Ranrok wielding it? Along with all the goblins? Surely you could find a way to do so, even if it’s simply a matter of protecting yourself from it” Sebastian countered as he glanced up. He knew that she likely wouldn’t see eye to eye with him on understanding the dark magic. The memories she spoke of being enough to discourage her from attempting to even entangle herself with that magic, but it didn’t stop him from being anxious. If she could control it, then perhaps if she faced the goblins she could turn the magic against them, or at the very least wield it enough to protect herself.

“I suppose in theory there is a way to control it. I am just nervous about what that could look like… Lodgok mentioned that all the goblins had been transformed by their attempts at using it. I am worried that if I allow myself to be influenced by it, that it may start to control me as well. Isadora’s journals end in madness. It’s easy to see she seemed to have been corrupted by it as well” she countered. 

“Hmm…” he said and when she looked up she noticed that his eyes showed how truly far away his mind was. Nervous to ask the reasons why he broached the topic, she pushed that aside in favor of getting answers even if they made her anxious. 

“You want me to heal Anne by wielding it don’t you?” she asked him with a defeated sigh, but when his eyes snapped back to hers and his brow furrowed almost angrily she regretted saying anything.

“What?” he asked in horror, frustration apparent in his tone as he spit the words out, laced with the venom he usually reserved for his uncle and no one else. 

“I just thought… that’s why you were asking… it’s okay if that was your train of thought, I was just curious-” she began rambling, hoping she could take back the insination but it was too late. He was already furious at her. 

“I am asking for you. You already told me what one of the memories showed - how it made a person devoid of emotions. I trust that. I trust you. I wouldn’t want that for my twin, even if it meant she wasn’t in pain. I wanted to know if you could wield it to protect yourself” he grumpily responded as she grew silent. 

“Oh” she spoke quietly as she stared into her lap, eyes glazing over as she felt similarly to a scolding child by the authority in his voice, and the guilt of assuming the worst in him. He must’ve seen the tiny piling of tears in the corner of her eye because he put down his book and came directly in front of where she sat on the sofa, sitting on his knees in front of her and grabbing her hands from her lap. 

“Hey” he spoke calmly and she didn’t respond so he spoke softer, gently squeezing her palms as she finally looked up. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Sebastian spoke. 

“I know. I didn’t mean to upset you either” she responded. 

“I know. I just want to know all our options for keeping you safe. That’s my main priority” he told her as she looked down. 

“What about Anne…?” 

“What about her?” he asked in confusion.

“We only started down this journey to find a cure for her… I thought that was your priority” she explained. 

Watching as his eyes absorbed her words he looked at her, opening his mouth, before closing it again to ponder his response. “It’s okay if that’s still your main goal-” she continued but he cut her off. 

“Months ago, yes, that was my main priority. But now… my world has shifted. My goals have shifted. My loyalty and devotion have shifted” he spoke cooly as her eyebrow raised of its own accord in confusion. 

“But Anne is your sister, your twin-” She went to counter and he shook his head. 

“And you are my everything. Of course I want to heal Anne, but we will find a way to do so safely. The same way we will find a way to keep you safe if somehow Ranrok does get ahold of the last repository… but don’t think for a second that you aren’t important to me. That keeping you safe isn’t my main priority now” he told her. 

Unsure how to respond she simply blinked rapidly. She wasn’t sure when she started crying fully, but when she felt the wetness on her cheeks he was already there, pulling her into his arms. 

“I mean it… I love you… and I swear with all I have that I will do everything to keep you safe when the time comes…” 

Remembering back to that day, she did wonder about his theory. They hadn’t had a chance to actually test it out given only a few days later she left with Poppy… and now she was in this head on. But perhaps Sebastian was correct. Maybe there was a way to control it. Maybe even purify it by removing the pain somehow, so that it would be useless to Ranrok. Unlike the keepers she had isadora’s research. Unlike Isadora she had the keeper's research. She also had such an intelligent man who had working theories. 

Trying to recall the work he’d written out on one of the chalk boards, she tried to remember the way he had theorized perhaps using ancient magic instead of normal magic with a healing spell could cleanse the magic so to speak. Now was as good as any time to try such a theory out. 

Stepping out from behind a rock she’d used for cover she used one of the healing spells on a sliver of the magic swirling around her, watching in awe as it turned blue again, the pain quickly moving towards ranrok as he absorbed purely the pain and yelled out angrily, “your pitiful magic is no match for mine, child!”

Then she found herself lying face down in the stone a few feet away. Her head throbbing at the aggressive contact she’d made when he’d flung her through the air once more. She would be surprised if her skin wasn’t one large bruise at this point. The speed to which he retaliated by blasting her had been too quick to process but as she laid there trying to get up again she smiled as she realized that now she had a decent game plan.  Sebastian Sallow was a genius and if she lived long enough to see him again she would delight in telling him so.

[hawthornsword]

Last Line Challenge

... Slides in with a pile of about 15 of these, very late, throws several paragraphs at you and runs away to hide under a rock again....

Thanks for the tags @loverboy-havocboy @greenharrow @cacodaemonia @lizardberries @aces-to-apples and @marbled-polecat

I am tagging you all back 🧡💜🧡💜🧡

This is still in a state of mostly vibes with a very nebulous idea of a plot, but have some Alpha-17 and my Jedi OC Sloane:

So no, he doesn't ask about her history, but he does ask, just once, about why she chose to be a Jedi.

As with everything, when she answers the shadow comes at it sideways.

"We have to take all these classes at the temple before we get knighted, and I was in this literature class. The master teaching was boring as hell. I didn't see the point of the stuff he was pushing us to understand, how it related to real life at all. I was trying to convince Master Windu to teach me vapaad at the time. He wisely refused, but I was sullen about it."

Seventeen raises an eyebrow. Sloane usually uses Soresu, same as Kenobi, and seems comfortable in it. 

"Everyone but Master Koon still treated me like a bomb about to go off at that point, with good reason. But then there was this poet we were reading in class. She said, 'hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.' It's such a pretty thing to say."

Seventeen waits.

"But I just thought. Oh .... Varactyls have feathers .... They also have six inch claws and the ability to bite a man in half."

Seventeen actually laughs out loud. It isn't funny, but that's the only reaction he can give when he knows this woman would get up from the mud, spit blood at her enemies feet and ask for more purely on principal. She is the smell of tibanna and the taste of blood in his teeth and busting his knuckles against the steel of a clanker. She is an unstoppable force because if you dont stop moving, maybe eventually you end up somewhere better, and drag everyone else along with you while you're at it. Hope like that is the only kind the vode know, and she gets it.

Credit for the poem is of course Emily Dickinson, and I don't know who to credit for the interpetations of hope as the one getting up and continuing to fight when they look beaten and also the dinosaur as the thing with feathers, but I'm pretty sure I first saw them both on tumblr and they're permanently embedded in my brain now.

[arina-nov]

Korolevs. What is it?

Hello everybody! I haven't been here for a while, and that's because I'm actively working on my project!!

Korolevs — project (comics, short stories and small animations) about eight magical clones that try to pretend that they are actually an ordinary family. it turns out that it's terrible for them, but slowly getting used to the routine of life among people, they realize that a huge danger is hanging over them.

— Little bit about the setting 🌟

The small Russian city —" Podmoskovsk", 2014. This city is difficult to find on the map, and someone says that paranormal things are happening here. Clones, a strange girl with... gremlins? (We thought it was kittens). Mermaids in the sewers of the city and strange spirits. I'm Surely these are all fairy tales.

— And the characters?

Gabriel (Grisha) — one of the youngest clones. He is inquisitive, often speaks Italian and is extremely charming. You should take a look at his training sessions!

Kuromaku (Alexey) — The loser, nerd, and man who considers it his duty to look after all the other clones. The "voice of reason" among all his brothers. Maybe look at some of his notes about the city?

Dante (Daniel) is a quiet and wise man. He will offer you to drink tea together or admire nature. Otherwise, he is useless, but don't you think that "utility" is a social construct devoid of meaning? He thinks so too until the moment when it's time for lunch

Felix (Kirill) — the epitome of goodness and childish naivety. And his clothes can be distinguished by the sequins in them. If good should be with fists, then he is good with a bat. in fact, we are very vulnerable, although you can't say that.

Franz (Felix's Cat) —a big and red-haired cat. He is very affectionate and lazy.

Varu (Nikita) — pubertal ulcer. the most unpleasant person with megalomania and the idea of his exclusivity. He's always messing with everyone and scheming. constant fights and confusion in the house is made by him

Brolly (Alexander) — a shy young man. He is very quiet, easy-going and, to put it mildly, soft-spoken. We are very dependent on the opinions of others and their thoughts. Please be gentle with him

Romeo (Roman) — Chaotic, frivolous and loving is this man's middle name! he is very sweet and friendly, at the same time he is the personification of love. extremely strong love..

Spade (Fedor) — Quiet. A sullen man. he is extremely taciturn and apparently unsociable. in fact, he really wants to be alone and relax. many people consider him a terrible person. We hope this is not the case.

That's it! Stay tuned!