#that the people she played like weapons will one day be turned on her

[wethotcrazy]

LET'S PLAY A FEW

pairing: Zhou Guanyu x Streamer! Reader

word count:

i have been cooking this up in my brain for so long now, like it has been weeks that i've been meaning to writea guanyu fanfic and now here it is yippie also i wrote this because guanyu is very dear to me and i am just gutted that he wont be racing next year

The stream was alive with the low hum of background music and the click-clack of Y/N’s keyboard. Her Tuesday night streams were a familiar routine for her viewers—three hours of CSGO, now smoothly transitioning into Valorant. She’d solo queued, half-focused on the game, half-focused on her chat. It was a relaxed vibe tonight, her soft voice filling the gaps as she responded to questions.

“Y/N, who’s your favorite agent?” one viewer asked.

“Hmm, depends on the day,” Y/N mused, squinting at the game. “But I’m leaning toward Jett lately. Fast, flashy… plus, I’m a sucker for knives.” Her words were accompanied by the sharp sound of her clicking through weapons.

Her team switched to defense. She’d been holding B site alone and wasn’t too concerned. “It’s always quiet until it’s not,” she muttered, eyes narrowing as she scanned the entry points.

And then it wasn’t quiet.

The enemy team pushed hard—four, no, five enemies storming the site. Y/N’s demeanor shifted instantly. She stopped talking mid-sentence, leaning forward, her entire focus honed in. Chat knew what was happening. They’d seen this mode before.

One.

Two.

Three clean headshots in rapid succession. Her chat erupted.

“SHE’S COOKING,” someone spammed.

“Demon time activated,” wrote another.

Four down, one left. Y/N’s crosshair tracked, and with one swift flick—the fifth player dropped.

“ACE!” Chat’s excitement exploded, emotes and all-caps filling the screen.

“Nice ace,” a voice said, calm and steady. Y/N’s body went rigid as a soft kiss landed on the crown of her head. Her breath caught in her chest.

Slowly, as if she couldn’t believe it, she turned her head to see Zhou Guanyu standing there, his face calm as ever, hands in his sweatpants pockets. His eyes met hers with an easy grin, one he’d worn countless times but somehow always made her heart stutter.

“Are you solo queuing right now? Want me to hop on?” he asked like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Y/N’s mouth opened, but it took her a moment to find the words. The situation wasn’t particularly funny, but a wave of giddy laughter poured out of her—that helpless, uncontrollable kind.

“I’m… I’m streaming right now, Bǎobǎo,” she said through breaths of laughter, wiping at her eyes.

Guanyu’s eyes flickered toward her monitor, realizing what had just happened. His gaze shifted to the camera. “Oh. Hi, chat,” he said with a casual wave like it was any other Tuesday night.

Pandemonium.

Chat’s messages scrolled too fast for Y/N to read. Everyone was freaking out. The calm, private nature of their relationship had only left the fans guessing. Speculation had been rampant, but this? This was confirmation.

“NO WAY THAT’S GUANYU.”

“WTF OKAY BOYFRIEND REVEAL.”

“Bǎobǎo?????????”

Y/N’s face was red as she tried to focus on the chat. “Alright, alright, calm down,” she said, fanning herself dramatically. She glanced up at Guanyu, still grinning like a fool. “You’re unbelievable.”

Guanyu’s only response was to tilt his head, his grin never wavering. “You’re the one who’s blushing,” he teased before walking off toward the kitchen.

Three years earlier, Guanyu had been just another viewer in Y/N’s chat—a regular with a verified checkmark that made him stand out. People recognized his name, but Y/N didn’t at first.

“Zhou Guanyu…” she read aloud, squinting at the name in her chat. “That’s… a Formula 1 driver, right? Chat, you’re messing with me.”

“No, it’s actually him!” chat exploded.

Sure enough, he’d donated with a message: “Big fan of your streams. If you’re ever down for games, I’m in.”

Y/N’s eyes went wide. “No way that’s real,” she muttered, half-laughing. But over the next few weeks, his presence became a regular occurrence. Guanyu’s name appeared in her chat, his playful comments lighting up the screen.

Then one day, he sent a Discord invite.

“Let’s play a few,” his message read.

He wasn’t what she expected. His sense of humor was sharp but subtle. He wasn’t loud, but he was confident. Their first few games were filled with banter and easy laughter. Somewhere along the way, it stopped being just "streamer and viewer" and became… more.

Soon, he’d hop into her streams without warning. His voice was instantly recognizable. Their interactions sparked thousands of clips on Twitch. Fans flooded her social media with theories. “Are they together?” became the constant question. They never confirmed or denied it, and after a while, the frenzy died down.

But when Guanyu’s race schedule allowed, he’d appear on her stream. Sometimes he’d just be a voice in the background, sometimes he’d play with her on-stream, and sometimes, like today, he’d forget she was streaming entirely.

Back in the present, Y/N’s chat was still in shambles. Guanyu’s sudden appearance had sent them into a spiral, and Y/N’s notifications were pinging nonstop. She’d read a few messages aloud, fighting the urge to laugh all over again.

“‘Tell him to come back’… No, he’s probably playing with Sweet Corn right now,” she joked, glancing over her shoulder.

“Does he call you Bǎobǎo?’” she read, the grin on her face growing wider. “Yeah, yeah, he does that sometimes. It’s…” She trailed off, her cheeks burning again. “Don’t worry about it.”

A few minutes later, Guanyu wandered back in with a bowl of fruit in hand, offering her a piece of mango. She took it with a raised brow. “You’re a menace, you know that?” she said, still half-laughing.

“Mmm,” Guanyu hummed in response, popping a piece of mango into his mouth. “You love it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I do,” she said softly, her voice quieter this time, almost just for him.

Chat caught every word.

[trashlie]

You brought Nol and Yui up and elaborated on their dynamic beautifully, I just wanted to add something that I've been thinking about a lot lately. Nol isn't only a threat to Yui because he is a potential heir. He is also a threat because if he ever exposes what she did to him in the Hirahara mental facility, it could be her downfall. The incident between the brothers was something she was personally, directly involved in. It all boils down to her. Whatever the contents of Yujing's article will be, Yui will probably be able to weasel her way out of any accusations. (I don't see her standing trial for murder or any of the Kim's crimes anytime soon.) But this? This is not something she will be able to get away with that easily once people start digging and questioning things.

To prevent it all from coming to light, she needs to keep Nol in this miserable state. Similarly to how she needs Kousuke to have this warped perception of reality, the same applies to Nol. She needs him isolated, internalizing the guilt, believing he deserves everything that happened, that fighting back is useless and only leads to more pain. But if he ever breaks free from her control, finds support, starts unpacking everything that has happened... That's when he becomes unpredictable, and unpredictable is dangerous. Back then, Yui got rid of Nessa but let Nol live. I wouldn't be surprised at all if a day comes when she really regrets that decision.

And this really makes me wonder how exactly Nol remembers the incident. Does he remember it clearly, or was his memory warped? Does he stay quiet because it's his word vs Kousuke's Yui's the media the whole world so he knows no one would believe him? How did he process his time in the facility? Does he remember it clearly and would be able to talk about, or is it all a haze? Does he recall names, faces? Would he be able to recognize the people he met there again?

Related to this, I have this feeling that whatever was going on in the mental facility, is... bigger than Nol. Bigger than just one kid getting abused and brainwashed. What if he isn't the only victim. What if it is the entire facility, or at least a subsection of it. What if Yui, since she runs the facility, fostered this kind of environment? This is a sensitive subject so I'm trying to find the right words... Unfortunately, this is not as unrealistic as people might think. It's horrible and absolutely disgusting but abuse in mental asylums, as well as institutions with a similar framework like nursing homes, is not a rare occurrence, because of the power dynamics in place and the residents being isolated from the outside world. Unfortunately, not every nurse, doctor, or medical staff is a good, caring, kind person. Some of them are the worst, most heartless people who simply want to have power over others. And power is such a key theme in the story already, isn't it. Given the author's background in the medical field, I would not be surprised at all if this is something she is planning on commenting on in season 2...

[Content warning: In my response I will talk a little about implied sexual assault related to Yui.]

Oh man, this is such a GOOD message and I think you're bringing up something that hasn't been explored nearly as much so far! That, yes, as we move into s2 we are going to start seeing the much darker underbelly of the story that has been sort of held off for so long, things that have only been danced around, until our characters grow older, aaaaahhhh!

But yes, re: Nol and Yui, that's such a good point! Like... something that I've talked about with a lot of people lately is that maybe Yujing is actually working on two stories - one as a favor to Rand, to help rectify Nol's image and reputation, and the other her much bigger story about Yui and the Kims, because I agree, there is no way whatever she has right now is going to be able to make the necessary dent, it will be so easy to bury. But if it turns out she IS working on two stories, this does a couple things. First, it plants that seed of credibility. If Nol was, in fact, an innocent person pushed to take the fall of the Hirahara's partner's son, then what can that say about Yui, the Hiraharas, the Kims? What does that say about corruption amongst the elite?

And what does it say about Nol's past?

If Nol's image can be redeemed (as much as it can be, because I have no doubts there will be people would brush it off, but fortunately Yujing bears a reputation for her honest work and reporting) while planting that seed, then later in the future when Yujing has even more dirt, even more testimonies, even more events to report on, people will be more willing to accept it, to believe it, to start to see that corruption, and how good people lose their lives (whether because they actually die or it's a case like Nol, who hasn't really been "living" all of these years as much as going through the motions).

Being able to expose the kind of manipulation and meddling Yui has done would be big, for her both as a Hirahara and also overseeing the health facilities, the hospital, etc. Someone of her status and position manipulating and drugging her own child and step-son, institutionalizing someone who didn't need it, the things that went on in there? ;A;

You're right that it's very likely Nol is not the only person who was abused in that facility, and I think it's very likely, too, that we might see this further explored. Something I think about re: Yui is that she has some kind of trauma, too. Not just the whole "I am a woman and I resent the patriarchy for what I have never been afforded and I have had to work harder in order to get what I have" and the survivalist mentality of needing to be at the top so that no one can take your position, which is already... uh... a lot lol. But on top of that, I think it' very possible that Yui was possibly assaulted when she was younger (perhaps even by one of the Kims which is a whole other can of worms) and that in never getting to process what happened to her, in not getting to get much needed help, perhaps she internalized that in a very damaging way. That mentality that this happened to her because she was weak, because she wasn't vigilant, because she wasn't powerful enough could be a part of the way she treats others, how she has this almost.... doesn't it feel like she treats people like her prey, that they dance for her amusement? That maybe if they were stronger, if they were more powerful, she wouldn't be able to play them like a fiddle? And I think, in an insidious way, this goes hand in hand with what you're bringing up - about fostering an environment where people who thrive on power can lord that over others.

It's especially sick and dark because yes, you are right - there are people who do often need that help and don't get the help they need because of the kinds of people who work in those institutions. We do see that a lot in nursing homes! And given that Nol was institutionalized on a basis that seems to be largely fictitious, or at least that it wasn't what it appeared, it feels even more hand in hand that powers of abuse were at play in there.

I have a few thoughts additional to this, too.

Something I think about Nol at this time is that he probably WAS an angry, hot-headed kid. His mother uprooted him and moved them to a foreign country where they live as undocumented immigrants in a home that Rand pays for for them, but they aren't living as citizens of this place. They're effectively living in hiding, in the shadows of Rand's Other Family. He must have been so alone! He must have been so upset. His father is this man who has a whole other family, he's MARRIED, and his mother is essentially his mistress, The Other Woman. She uprooted their lives for THAT. To be near him even though they couldn't actually BE. Nol wasn't part of their lives, part of that world. Every interaction we've seen of Kousuke and Nol spanning those years is just Kousuke refusing Nol, demeaning him.

In 219 when Nol and Shinae are talking about not celebrating his birthday, he talks about abusing the cow that became your burger and it makes me wonder if Nol and Nessa argued when he was younger, when he was hot-headed and bitter and angry and upset about being forced to live like this for a man who never once showed the side of him that his mother insists exists. Did he say terrible things about her choices, about what she was doing? Did he say hurtful things?

And to this thought... did Yui ever drug Nol via tea with something that might amplify and exacerbate his already hot-headed, bitter, angry feelings? That made him lash out at an old brother who treated him like dirt. At a family that made him feel like an invisible monster, like a mistake? Could the incident that happened the night he was taken away have involved something like that? And even if not then, we know Nol has an aversion to tea, which means it could still have been anything else. And not only an aversion to tea but an aversion to Yui's touch, to her presence...........

Whenever I think about the time he was institutionalized, I think of it a lot like what I think conversion therapy sounds like. They took this kid who is, for the most part, pretty normal. Is he having adjustment issues? Probably. Is his anger misplaced and out of place? Probably not. They took this kid and convinced him that something is wrong with him - that he himself is an anomaly, a mistake. That everything would be better if he didn't exist. Like, I feel deep in my heart that what happened to Nol was deeply brainwashing in nature, psychologically impacting how he sees and perceives himself, how he thinks about these incidents in the past that he was involved in. That everything would be so much better if he just didn't exist. His mother wouldn't be dead. His father's family would know peace. They convinced this kid that bad things come to those he cares about, because he is a blight. That he was a terrible son and he lost his mother because of it. I feel SO STRONGLY that this must be why this mentality is so deeply ingrained in him, why it's something that he cannot just let go of, because his entire identity is deeply rooted in it.

His entire panic about waking up in the hospital, and how he could calm down once he found out it wasn't Hirahara Memorial. His aversion to drugs, even when it was a pain killer given by Kousuke at the beginning of the story. I just.... i just KNOW terrible things happened in that hospital to him, and probably to others. ;_____; I'm haunted by his aversion to Yui's touch, the way he reacts every time she reaches to him ugggghhhhhhhh

So yes, I do wonder how much he remembers of that time - and it's probably going to depend on any drugs they were administering (whether or not he needed it). I think, too, he probably was made to participate in anger management, which probably further just warped his perception of himself and his feelings, and what he's allowed to feel.

But as for that night in question, I get the feeling even Nol doesn't have a clear memory of it, based on the beginning of episode 150. Something we've been picking up on re: memory in ILY is that color is one of the factors that determines how clear a memory is. A good example of this is Shinae's recollection of the formal and how it all works backwards from blurry, black and white images and slowly gains more clarity and saturation as she returns to what wasn't affected by being drugged. Other things is stuff like in Kousuke's memory where Nessa's face is scribbled out.

Nol's memory of the night he was taken away is jarring - there's no clarity, everything is blurred as if it's in motion, we can't make out the images, the colors are inversed (he himself appears blue and black). I think this implies that he himself has a very tenuous grasp on what happened that night, cannot recall clearly for himself his memory vs what Yui said. The most clear things, in fact, are what he was saying, his insistence that he wasn't doing anything, that he didn't touch him, he just wanted to ask him something.

We've seen even in Shinae's memories that speech can become blurred, so Nol's speech being the clearest part....? Interesting, right? So there seems to be some conviction in what he said and insisted, but the rest of it seems to be vague, easy to manipulate, to convince him he's remembering wrong.

And I think there's two strong possibilities here.

The first is that Nol could have been drugged at that time - and this really plays into the theory that maybe he's been given things that amplify and exacerbate his emotions, make him look like he's a violent, unstable child, make him come across more belligerent. If he was drugged maybe that's why the vision is so blurred, so warped.

The other possibility is this: quimchee has revealed that Nol is practically blind without his glasses, is nearsighted, and that this is, in fact, plot-related. We also know Nol now wears contacts - perhaps so that he can never be left blind if he forgets his glasses (loses them, they're taken from him) and.... what if that's connected to the night he was taken away.

Further, on top of this, Yui is the spitting image of Kousuke, but in a wig. And the night that Nol was taken away? Yui's hand looked like it was scuffed/battered/injured.

So I think it's safe to assume that no one but maybe Yui (and Rand?) has the best understanding of what happened that night. It seems possible that Nol was without his glasses, so already all but blind, and based on this being such a traumatic event, the memory is already distorted, the colors show that. Even if he wasn't drugged when this happened, it seems like it's something he himself can't very well recall, except for the words he spoke. ;A;

And to tie in your initial points lmao yes I think that's a really important thing to remember. Yui needs to keep Nol in a state where he cannot question these things, where it's easier for him to believe these lies that he's been saddled with, to continue to believe that he is a blight, a mistake, something that never should have existed, that wherever he goes, doom follows, that those he cares about are damned by his association. Every time he takes interest in someone Yui sees to it that they are "taken from him" like how Alyssa was pushed into a career that would mean she doesn't get to see him, leaving him alone and isolated, and convinced that this is what happens. It's UGGGGHHHHHH it's so awful, but YES that's very much how she operates, and why it's so so SO important to me that Nol and Shinae talk, because like she told him back at the Parks, nothing changes if he leaves. She still works for Yui, she's still under contract. Rand has reinforced this notion, that she WILL NEVER ESCAPE and the best she can do is to learn to play Yui's games and fight the way she does. As long as Nol is alone, she can continue to isolate him, continue to use the people he cares about against him, to punish him with their harm.

But like you said - maybe if he can get away from that, he can get the much needed clarity. It will take a lot of work and patience to unlearn what has been drilled into his head, but I think being able to talk to Shinae, to be open with each other would be an important first step, so that they can never be used against each other, and so that he can see that it's not him - it's Yui, and it's always been her. ;A;

[ruvviks]

made the realization my vampire story would work best as a video game and now i can't stop thinking about it

[cipheramnesia]

The reason I probably shouldn't be allowed to make movies is I have no impulse control and I would immediately make something called Revenge Of The Dead Tranny Hooker. It would be about a trans woman trying to break into acting, but no one wants to hire her for anything except playing a sex worker who gets murdered. Then one day she does an open casting call which runs her through a series of increasingly bizarre line readings, which it turns out are meant to summon an eldritch demon to grant the movie producer god-like powers.

The culmination is supposed to be sex on the casting couch, but she ditches at the last minute, destroying the ritual and splintering the extradimensional entity across California. She unknowingly receives powerful extradimensional blood, while the rest of the fragments seek out the powerful and violent people of the world. Meanwhile the movie producer uses his new powers to transform his PAs into henchcreatures, and sends them after the protag to finish her off. She discovers her new powers in the ensuing fight, which also seem to be gradually altering her body every time she uses them.

The rest of the movie is a steadily escalating game of cat and mouse between trans woman and movie producer. While the former transformers the fragments into powerful psychic weapons like chainsaws and spiked bats, the later uses fragments to make himself bigger and physically stronger. At first the fights are short and brutal, the protag outmatched and outgunned, but she gets more confident to the point of an anarchic battle of against the LAPD led by a demonic police captain, including a scene where she stands on the roof of a speeding police car and rips the driver through the windshield.

Her eventual form is some kind hyper sexual draconic mantid squid rippling with biomechanoid components. In the fight with the producer he thinks he's winning by tearing apart the last of her human flesh, but this just complete her transformation, letting her easily overwhelm him. It's implied from that point forward she plans to conquer the world.

[mollysunder]

There is a theory that the way children play serves as a means to simulate and prepare them for the tasks they'll take on as adults. So for all the narrative weight both Jinx and the story give the boxing machine at the arcade it would never have prepared her or the kids to take on Piltover.

What are the two things that Piltovans excel at over their Zaunite counterparts to keep the hierarchy? Weapons and technological development.

When you look at the way Piltovans invest in their children, they don't prioritize hand to hand/melee combat training. Piltovans focus on giving their children experiences in handling firearms, a pursuit that is both leisure sport for the wealthy and a key offense against dissenting Zaunites.

And from the show notes even Jayce, whose family occupies the upper middle class, was sent on educational excursions across Runeterra to explore the world and learn what it had to offer. Without Jayce's education abroad he would never have been inspired to pursue the concept hextech.

It's no wonder that the two figures that are set to be Piltover's biggest threats from Zaun are Jinx and Viktor, becasue they engaged in the same kinds of games and activities as their Piltovan counterparts.

Jinx didn't have an entire forest preserved to help her practice her sharpshooting like the high houses of Piltover, but she did excel in the few games at The Rift (the arcade) that built on her talents. She's the only Zaunite thus far who's long distance offensive is a strong counter to Piltover's forces.

Viktor couldn't travel the world like Jayce did, but for better or worse he managed to stumble into an opportunity to get real opportunity in research not offered to his peers through Singed. It was through that experience that Viktor knew to turn to Singed when he was at the end of his rope, and the consequences of that will be fully realized in season 2.

Ironically, the kind of skill the boxing game champions is only good for keeping other Zaunites in line. Vander's days of fighting Piltover were way behind him when we first met him, and Vi spends season 1 primarily fighting other Zaunites. It's no surprise the Zaunites who embody the old ideal of strength in Zaun that the game portrays, Vi and Vander, are largely at the mercy of Piltover and end up collaborating with them to avoid further harm.

Zaun's future as an independent city-state couldn't happen if they stuck to their old ideals. The people who stand a chance against Piltover are the ones that not only succeed but excel at playing Piltover's games against them.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Old dog

Daryl Dixon x reader | SMUT🔞

Daryl is never been watched with such interest before, and it grabs his attention. But he feels like he got his order of actions wrong..

The Kingdom was a strange place.

First there was the King, with his pet tiger.

The King spoke in a strange manner, and his ever so friendly right hand too.

The Queen was a kind woman, she had shown you around and given you a roof over your head after you wandered into her lands.

The Kingdom had guards on horseback, and all its residents referred to their leader as the King.

Like a true old age Kingdom.

It was near summer when you arrived and took some time to get settled, now having your routine all worked out and were a happy new addition to the bakery.

While it meant crazy early mornings, it brought many people a good start of their day. You made your delivery rounds as the first people got up to tend to the gardens before the sun got too hot, passing then with a kind smile and a good morning wish on your way to the school building where you'd make your last delivery of the day.

You continued your daily tasks back at the bakery when a returning resident came by.

Each day he'd come by to pick up the same order, so by now it was standard to have it ready by a certain time.

Like clockwork he showed up, the gorgeous older man with his grey streaked hair that framed his bearded face oh so perfect.

You always wondered about the scar that sat around one of his sea blue eyes, but you never found the courage to ask.

You only knew his first name because the baker mentioned it once.

Daryl.

With rough, scarred hands he accepted the packaged food but remained in his spot.

"M'sorry, ya don't happen ta have sun leftovers, do ya? 'M headin' out fer a couple days 'n could use some extras." A little stunned by the sudden change in routine had you stammer a response neither of you could make out before you disappeared further into the back.

To your luck a fresh batch was just taken out of the oven, so you quickly grabbed a few buns and put them in a tea towel before moving back to the front.

"Here you go, fresh out of the oven." You smiled nervously as you held out the makeshift pouch, almost freezing as the calloused pads of his fingers brushed your skin while taking the bread from you.

With a charming as ever thanks he made his way out the door.

After the third time preparing the order for Daryl, who wasn't in town to come pick it up you were told to go take a day or two off, relax and go try and catch him come back home later during the day.

On your delivery routes and walks around the community you had caught wind of some kind of guard dog. You'd pick it up from time to time but today had been much more frequent.

You wondered what they meant. Maybe you'd ask Carol about it later.

The Kingdom was a nice place.

Each day there would be someone in the community's centre, playing some kind of instruments. Alone or in a group, it varied, but it was always nice to enjoy when you could.

You were enjoying it for so long you barely noticed the sun starting to set and Carol finding you. "Couldn't catch you at the bakery today, was told you were given the day off."

She came to sit beside you, enjoying the music and sharing a small snack she brought with you.

After a short while she got up, turning to you and offering a hand. "Come, we're gonna see something. If I have to believe the baker's words you're gonna love it."

Carol's words confused you, the thought of the baker casually talking about you with her wasn't really a happy one. Yet you followed her every step as she made her way to the front gates of the Kingdom.

"We're heading out? Without weapons or gear?" There was nothing around for you to see, confusion rising even more and edging on annoyance. Why wouldn't she just way where you were going?

You stood and watched as as she bounced on her heels with her arms behind her back. She was being all giddy about something and your mind could not come up with what on earth it could be.

Option after option ran through your mind until the guards spoke and the gates started to open.

Carol passed you a smile and raised her brows as she nudged her head towards the gate before turning back to watch.

You took a step closer to see what she was on about, and within the reach of your first step a figure came into view between the large gate doors.

"Holy shit." You stood frozen, much like those few days ago when Daryl suddenly asked for additions to his bakery order.

Despite the distance between the two of you and the low volume of your words, it looked like he heard you and gave you a smile and a small wave.

The scene before you became crazier by the second, on his shoulders a large deer that he carried without any visible strain but that wasn't all. Tied to his waist with a thick belt he lugged a tarp stacked with different hunted animals.

But something else felt off, beside the show of inhuman strength he seemed to possess.

Out from underneath his hair poked an ear, like it did sometimes before as well, although they seemed.. pointed?

His smile as well. You had seen the stubby pointed canines he had, but there were loads of people who had those slightly longer than average. Why did they look bigger now, accompanied with a similar set on his bottom teeth that surely weren't there before.

Also, was he fuzzier than normal? It was all hard to see in the dim light. It could just have been dirt stuck on his skin from being out in the woods so long. Surely he didn't bother cleaning up out there.

All the while Daryl dragged his game inside and stopped to report to Carol, glancing your way every so often as he could feel the energy radiating off you. He was enjoying the way you stared at him with confusion that slowly morphed into something he almost wanted to categorize as adoration.

It wasn't often Daryl got that look from anyone, so to say he was suddenly more intrigued by the baker woman was an understatement.

"Hey," Daryl's voice pulled you from your thoughts, staring at him without a single word running through your mind. "Wanna help unload all'a this at the butcher?"

A silent nod was all you managed as you followed him, hearing Carol say something but not entirely registering her words.

It was the next day when you saw him outside of his usual routine yet again, before the time of his usual pickup. The early summer sun was up when you made your rounds, and so was Daryl.

Across the street from the butcher’s place was a small area that used to be a children’s playground where you caught him doing pull-ups, flannel hanging open over his torso that you secretly expected to be way more toned, but instead you saw lightly furred soft flesh.

He hadn’t noticed you as you moved past to the butcher’s doorstep where you’d leave her order, quietly mumbling to yourself as you stared at Daryl again. “Lords, I want that man to fold me like a lawn chair..” You were so lost in the view of him pulling up his full weight with just one arm, his legs crossed under him, that you didn’t hear the butcher arrive until she pat you on the shoulder. “I may not be into men, but even I can see the appeal of that old dog bending me over the nearest surface.”

The sudden contact made you squeak and jump away, only to be laughed at as you stumbled over your words before running along on your delivery route.

It was only a couple of seconds after you were out of earshot that Daryl appeared on the butcher's steps, shoulders shaking as he softly laughed at the interaction he heard all too well just a moment ago. "Yer horrible, ya know tha'?" He bumped her shoulder aa he walked past her, into the shop to start working on all the kills he brought back the day before.

The butcher let out a breath through her nose. "And you love me for it, mutt." Behind her she closed the door and flipped off the hunter, sticking out her tongue behind his back. "'Course I love ya, ya crazy knife wieldin' hag."

The rest of the day after running off at the butcher went fairly normal, Daryl picked up his order and you cleaned the place alone with the baker having to leave early for a meeting.

It was only when you closed up shop for the day that it got weird. Daryl stood outside, seemingly waiting with his arms crossed under short sleeves so tight you wondered how they hadn't cut off circulation yet.

Without missing a beat he pushed himself off the wall and stepped beside you. "C'mon. Wanna show ya som'n." His gruff voice could tell you to eat dirt and you'd do it so naturally you followed suit, walking around the community until you reached the homes placed at the far end, right at the forest wall.

You took in the beat up old truck with the hood popped and one wheel missing, and next to it inside the garage with the missing door a bike that looked like it was made over years of collecting parts. Was this his home?

You followed him inside the garage, the door in the back opening and leading into a small kitchen littered with tools and materials. The tea towel you gave him the bread in laid neatly folded on the corner of the messy table, not a single grease or oil covered item near it.

In the moment of distraction Daryl's hand landed on your hip as he scooted past you in the narrow space between the counter and the table, his crotch brushing your ass in the process.

He felt you become rigid at his touch and apologized. "Sorry, doll. Place ain't made fer two."

His hand remained in its place, squeezing as he apoligized making you want to just give in to your haunting daydreams and let him take you right then and there.

"So, what did you wanna show me again?" You were fidgeting, trying to calm your nerves with Daryl so close.

"S' upstairs. Sum ol' items ya can dig through. See if ya wan' sum." With a hand placed on your hip he led you upstairs, steering you around the corner and through one of the doors, ending with your knees pressed against a bed.

Before you had a chance to ask anything one of Daryl's hands came around your front, resting on your lower belly as the other one snuck around your chest. "How 'bout ya be a good girl fer me an' lemme fold ya like a lawn chair." His beard drug across your skin as he came to bite your earlobe. "Tha's what ya want, righ'? Got all hot 'n bothered when the butcher mentioned me bendin 'er over the counter.." with one hand sneaking under your waistband and the other softly squeezing your breast he had you whimpering.

"S'fine, righ'?" His hands stilled at your silence. "Words, doll. Ain' gon do anythin' unless ya give me an okay." His hands moved to cafefully turn you around to look you in the eye, but you quickly buried your face in his chest, hands against him as well and all your body wanted was to squeeze.

Squeeze your fingers into his plump, soft chest. Squeeze your thighs together for some desparately needed friction.

You softly nodded, murmuring something Daryl couldn't make out.

"Need ta hear ya." Daryl softly caressed your shoulder, moving to tilt your head up so you'd look at him.

Your eyes scanned his face, soft and gentle. Eyes glistening a bright blue between the thick, red scarred line that cut right through an eyebrow. Your eyes wandered to his lips, partially hidden by the grey scruff that occupied the lower half of his face as you breathed. "I want this."

With your eyes on his lips you saw his concerned look change into a wicked grin that showed his pointed canines.

In a split second after that you were thrown onto the bed and caged between Daryl's limbs, his face buried in your neck as he nipped and sucked at your skin.

"Go on." He whispered. "Take 'em off. I know ya wan' it." Daryl was on his way to the hem of your shirt already as you slowly worked your hands towards the buttons of of his flannel, undoing them with trembling fingers, focus drifting away with every drag of his teeth across your flesh.

With some assistance your top halves were soon bare. Daryl's hands on your soft chest, tongue all over them as he sucked bruises to the underside.

Your fingers found his hair, pulling at the strands in pleasure as the others traced every scar on Daryl's body. From the small puncture wounds to the large gashes on his back, you caressed each one of them.

Letting out short, panted breaths your body burned wherever Daryl's fingers trailed, the rough pads leaving a path of tingling flesh from your chest down to your side, his tongue following down your body between where his hands had gone.

With the descent of his body his scarred frame moved out of reach, placing both hands in his hair and tugging as his teeth dug into your skin, earning a growl that sounded from deep in his chest.

With newfound interest you pulled again, your nails scratching his scalp in the process as your hips rolled up against his torso.

The low, scratchy moan that left him rumbled against your hip and had him quickly slide his hands down your hips. With no effort you felt your hips rise as two strong hands grabbed your ass and fabric slide off your body. Both your loose trousers and panties were shoved down the rounds of your hips as they lifted off the bed, the fabric pulled off your legs before your knees ended on both sides of your chest and Daryl's teeth were back just below your bellybutton where the meat of your folded torso met in perfect, bite-sized rolls.

You watched him litter your stomach in marks, clamping his jaw onto your thighs to color your skin in where only he could admire them.

"Daryl, please.."

Your voice had him lock eyes with you from where he sat between your legs and watched your pleading gaze with a soft nod before leaning back down and licking a broad stripe over the back of your thigh, moving to delve his tongue right into your centre.

Your moans of his name added fuel to the already raging fire, parting your lips with his tongue and drinking up all of your sweetness. With each stroke against your clit your walls clenched around nothing, muscles tensing but your body laying unmoved under Daryl's strong grip.

You squirm, hands finding his on your thighs as you whine and mewl, signaling you being close to finishing.

"Such pretty sounds, all fer me.." Daryl speaks against your clit before wrapping his lips around it once more and teasing you, making you hold back your own thigh so his fingers could join his mouth, stuffing two down your entrance with ease as he kept licking and sucking in tandem with the curls of his digits.

Your sounds increase in volume with Daryl's ministrations, crying out at your peak, clenching your walls tightly around his fingers as you finished.

"'Ere, lemme stretch those legs fer ya." With gentle hands he laid your legs flat against the bed on either side of him, allowing the blood flow to return while you came down from your high.

You watched him with hazy eyes, on his knees between your legs tugging at the button and zipper of his black jeans. Beneath the oh so inviting trail of dark hair he lowered the layers still on him to reveal his thick, hard cock.

Your view was close to perfection, a gorgeous old man between your spread legs. The lines of his body like rings on a tree, showing signs of age and survival. From the scar at his collarbone, at the edge of the soft dusting of chest hair down to his thick strong legs he was removing his clothes from he was like a piece of art for you to admire as you desired.

And gods, you desired him.

"Ya look like ya wanna eat me alive." He looked down at you, one hand running through his hair while the other slowly stroked his cock.

You licking your lips as you stared at his impressive length was all he needed to ler himself fall forward and catch himself right before he'd make contact with you, calmly catching your lips in a deep kiss. With your tongue against his lips you asked for more and he obliged almost immediately, parting his lips and swiping his tongue against yours, lips moulding together in percect harmony until you desperately needed air.

Your hand lingered on the side of his head, thumb caressing the scar around his eye.

"What's the story on this one?" Daryl couldn't get enough of that look on your face. The one filled with curiosity, not a speck of fear or disgust on you.

"Old girlfrien' decided she didn' like me no more." He averted your gaze as he remembered the fight in the cabin back then, and the serrated edge of the knife catching the skin of his face. He deliberately left out the terms his then lover called him as she chased him out the door with a shotgun. That was a tale for another time.

Right now all he wanted was to ravish the woman underneath him.

The setting sun caught his eyes and for a fraction of a second they seemed to glow, icy blue in a sea of black. When they looked back at you it was gone, a pair of normal blue eyes looking at you.

He shook off the memories and brought his focus back to the now, to you underneath him, the scent of your arousal, and his painfully hard cock.

Daryl adjusted his position, his length rubbing your folds in the process earning a soft moan from you.

"Gonna make more o'them pretty noises fer me, doll?" His hand reached for his member and rubbed the tip between your folds, spreading your wetness around, listening to your soft mutters of "yes" and "please".

Daryl needed no more convincing, nuzzling your noses together before kissing you deeply as he slowly inches himself inside of you. The initial stretch hurt and you couldn't help but groan into the kiss at how big he was. His cock was way girthier than just two fingers, and it had been years since your last time before this.

Daryl's hand moved down your body, slowly rubbing your clit to distract from the stretch. His kisses deepened, your tongue sliding past his teeth, feeling around his fangs with fascination.

A soft whimper sounded from you as he bottomed out, making him halt a moment to let you adjust. "Ya tell me when yer good, 'kay?"

You nodded and answered a soft "uhuh." and a bit later, after a few experimental squeezes you told him you were good.

With his hand still on your hip Daryl carefully pulled back and slid inside at a slow and steady pace, letting you get used to him for a few thrusts until your heels came up to dig in his rear.

"Hmhm, eager are we?" Daryl grinned against your neck, taking the hint and quickening his pace. His hands had your hips in a bruising grasp, his hips snapping against yours earning soft gasps on each impact.

"H.. hah.. ah Daryl fuck--" you were a beautiful piece beneath him, with your head thrown to the side, arm covering your eyes and chest heaving and shaking with each thrust.

"So good, doll. So pretty for me." Daryl was huffing out a laugh, moving his hands off your hips to grab at your lower legs. Deep, short thrusts continued as he moved your legs from around him back to up beside your torso, knees pressed against your shoulders as he fucked into you with your ass up off the matress.

He was so deep all of a sudden it had you see stars, crying out his name aa your orgasm crashed down on you.

You were sweating all over, breaths deep to get enough air and body heavy. With your eyes closed you laid still, getting the air back into your lungs as Daryl teased you by softly rutting into your overly sensitive cunt.

"Don' tell me yer tired already, I haven't even finished yet.." His thrusts changed angles and now brushed your clit, having you mewl out pleas he chose to ignore. "Tha's more like it, music, those sounds o' yers." His thrusts continued, as did your pleas. You didn't even know what you were begging for but the knot in your belly was quickly returning in time with his thrusts getting sloppier, not long after crying out again as you came a few thrusts before je did too.

There were tears rolling down your face, laying limp on the bed. Daryl's hands had let go of your legs again, letting you stretch them for thr short moment before he was fully hard again.

Unexpectedly Daryl flipped you onto your stomach and moving your hips around to his preference.

"Time fer round two?" He wached you nod wit your face in the pillows, moving to slowly press inside you once more and bending down to press soft kisses to your back. Your mind went back to being hazy a few thrusts in with how good his cock felt at this new angle fist gripping at the pillows beneath you that muffled your moans.

His hands were all over your backside, kneading every soft surface he could reach as he continued his steady pace.

Your sounds were like music to his ears, wishing to hear them every night, over and over again until your throat was so soar he had to bring you medicine and nurse you back to health. Your curiosity was already enough to make him want you, never having anyone radiate such a type of energy towards him and it has him hooked. But having you here like this now had him almost addicted, wanting to keep you, claim you but he knew he didn't have the right to do so. He didn't deserve it, for he was sort of still lying to you about large aspects of his life.

But if he could make you feel this good now in this moment, that was all he cared about.

He fucked you from behind until you came once, twice and then moved you onto your side, holding onto one of your legs against his chest as je continued rutting into you, earning two more orgasms from you right before finishing himself for the second time.

As he came down from his high he stared at you, passed out and asleep beneath him. Ever so carefully he moved you so he could lay down as well, pulling you against his chest as he settled to drift off too.

It was morning by the time you woke up, groaning in pain as your legs resisted being moved off the bed. You blinked the sleep from your eyes and shot up off the bed. "Ah, god damn oww.." Your ass hit the matress again, the crunchy layer of dried fluids scratching your thighs.

"Oh for fuck's sake I'm gonna be late!" You stumbled around the place searching for the shower to scrub yourself clean, picking up your shirt off the floor and sniffing it. "Nope, can't wear that. Shit!" You found the bathroom and were vigorously scrubbing your legs and quickly back to digging through all of Daryl's drawers in a panic, trying to find something decent to wear.

"Ya know ya can just ask, right?" You didn't even register what he said and grumbled back at him. "I don't have time, okay? I'm already gonna be late for work and I got nothing to wear because my own clothes stink so I'm gonna have to run home first and be even later."

Face down in a drawer your attention was pulled by a short whistle, and the second you were up and turned towards the noise an entire outfit found your face.

Underwear, socks, simple sweats and a flanel.

"Why do you have a stash of women's clothes?" You were genuinely curious but that didn't stop you from struggling to put on the clothes with your entire body aching. "I don't even know how I'm gonna walk my rounds. Everything hurts.."

You were already dreading today and it had barely even started.

"Need me ta make yer rounds? Got time so I don' mind." Daryl was following you down the stairs now, hands ready to catch you as you stumbled, not wanting you to fall.down the stairs on your wobbly legs.

"No way I'm letting you do my rounds. I don't want the whole community on my neck tomorrow about why I sent you." You were halfway out the door already, walking as fast as possible and waving Daryl off on your not so fast way to work.

You arrived late and got told off for it, but the baker quickly changed his demeanor once he saw you limp. He gave you a quick rundown of what he had planned to do at the bakery and let you stay in as he took over your rounds, which you were very thankful for.

The front door bell rang and Carol appeared, a while after Daryl had dropped by for his usual, and bringing in a bag with your clothes.

"Hey, didn't see you this morning." Carol was as cheery as ever, her hair braided and her smile kind and motherly.

"Yeah," you leaned against the counter, wincing as you moved your weight. "Hurt my leg yesterday, so I'm in here thr whole day now." You tried to shrug it off, not feeling like coming up with a decent enough lie. Not that you needed one anyways.

"Which clearly has nothing to do with you spending the night at Daryl's place?" A knowing smile spread on her face as she looked you up and down, arms crossed over her chest, laughing as she watched your eyes about to pop out of your head in response. "You're wearing my emergency clothes. Looks like we have about the same size."

You felt blessed with today being a quiet day and could clean while you chatted with Carol and closed up shop after, with the baker off again while you ran the bakery.

"There's something wrong with that man." You sighed as you bent down to lock up the garage door, groaning as you came back up. "He's like, what? Almost sixty? And he still held out longer than me. I swear I passed out once before he was done."

Carol was giggling all the way with your bags in her hand. "He's fifty-four, but alright."

"Yeah, okay. That fifty-four year old would have kept going if I hadn't clocked out after lord knows how ma--"

"Five, doll." Daryl's voice suddenly behind you had you jump up and almost fall if it wasn't for his quick response to steady you.

"How the hell are you fine?" Your question was directed at Daryl, but your eyes were on Carol who was having the time of her life seeing you be so confused about her best friend's energy levels.

"There's a lot about Daryl you don't know yet, dear." She winked at her friend, who only grunted in response.

"Oh really? When are you planning on telling me all about yourself? Do I need to cook you a romantic dinner?" Your words came out with way too much excitement, letting out how eager you were to learn about Daryl.

"Ya'll learn eventually. No need ta rush things, righ'?" His voice kept cool, but Carol read his body language like a book and quickly saw he needed help to cross that line. Him scratching the side of his fingers, and obsessively wiping the hair out of his face, eyes looking everywhere but at you. They were all tells, and Carol felt bad for him.

"Why don't you two stay over for dinner? Ezekiel won't make it home in time so I'd be all alone otherwise." Carol quickly set up a plan, making it all seem like coincidence but in her mind she had all the steps figured out already.

"I'd love to stay over, but only if it's not too much effort." Peeking past Daryl you saw her wave your assumption off and assure it was fine.

And thus you three ended up around Carol's nice dinner table in the King's home.

Somehow you expected it to be fancy and pristine, but that would never happen with how selfless the King was.

The food was nice and Carol had gifted you some stronger painkillers she had laying around to ease your body, you all just chatted about your day, and you thought your subtle questions about him were going okay, until Daryl excused himself to go smoke what seemed in a hurry.

"It's okay honey, Daryl has a hard time opening up to people. He needs to find the right moments to talk." Carol gave you a loving shoulder squeeze and pointed you towards the back door where Daryl had just left through.

"He loves the forest, he feels safe there." With a wink she sent you off.

You carefully approached him and settled in the doorframe. "Hey," Your voice was soft as to not startle him. "Wanna go for a walk? Outside the walls."

With a nod he got up and offered you his hand to take, and with a sigh he let a smile come through. "Carol really set us up, didn't she?"

You laughed along with him and decided then you wouldn't push him, and let him talk at his pace.

With your gear gathered the two of you found yourselves walking along the tree line in silence.

"M' sorry." Daryl kept his eyes on the ground where he walked, but with his pinkie he touched yours and hooked them together.

"When Carol brought ya to welcome me back after the huntin' I was confused. But when I felt yer curious stares instead of gettin' negative 'n scared I got.." He fell quiet, his hand pulling away from yours but you quickly grabbed it fully, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles.

But you stayed quiet, and just walked with his hand in yours.

After a long stretch of only hearing the ground crunch under your shoes Daryl stopped.

"S'where I stay when I go out each month." You stood a few feet away from a rock wall, overgrown with green and a small clearing in it. Looking around you there was no way of being seen here from any angle.

You also saw trees with torn off branches and what looked like deep claw marks. "Should'a shown ya 'fore last night."

You looked over at him and made sure he saw you smile. "You really think anything would have changed my mind?" Your hands came up to his face to hold his gaze on you, hoping he'd see the truth in your eyes.

"I know yer not lyin'. Ya haven't lied since we started talkin'." His hand moved to touch the small of your back, the other one gesturing at the overgrown wall. "C'mon."

Daryl had his knife ready as he moved past some hanging vines with your hand in his to keep you close.

The area was void of any dead, except for the picked clean bones covering the ground.

And the seemingly random pile of fabrics and signs of humans staying here.

He let go of your hand and let you wander around, staring at every little thing.

You kneeled down off to the side, getting up to move some vines to let in more light before walking back.

"You stay here?" Your fingers traced the print in the sand, glancing over at Daryl who was slowly stepping closer with calculated steps, like a true huntsman would to not startle an animal.

Quietly he leaned down next to you, and without saying a word moved his hand to the print in the loose sand.

The world went blurry around Daryl's hand as you watched it change. Muscles under the skin warping to reshape as flesh darkened and nails grew, and then fit perfectly into the indentation.

Daryl was hyper aware of everything around him, senses almost overwhelming him as he felt the worms crawl under the earth and heard the birds fly over outside. But even with his senses running on overdrive he couldn't find a single negative feeling coming off you.

You stared at his hand, now more a claw and it felt like everything suddenly made sense.

His strength, the way he heard things from so far off, his way of using terms that didn't make sense and that strange glow in his eyes.

Daryl's mind kept showing you running away, crying as he got closer each time.

Instead, there in the small cave like structure he called home once a month, you reached out your hand and placed it on top of his changed one.

"I don't regret being curious." Your shoulder rested against his, slowly easing into more contact. "And I'm still happy I went home with you, and came here to see this. To see you." Your weight was now entirely resting against his side, and for the first time since he sat down he dared to look at you.

You, who laid comfortably against his side.

"I'm honestly kinda glad you showed me this." You watched Daryl raise his brows at your words. "Suddenly your strange but interesting things make sense. Kinda obvious for someone to be so strong, or have glowy eyes when they're not human."

Your hand gave his a comfortable squeeze. "I hope you'll show me all of this you one day." With a finger pressed to his knuckles you moved your head to kiss his cheek.

"Close yer eyes fer a minute." Daryl moved to stand after he kissed your head, moving behind you.

Noises filled the air. Clothes being undone and landing on the floor.

And then cracking. Tearing and groaning. Coughing and growling, a thud that acompanied a shove against your backside that almost made you turn around, but je asked not to, and you were going to respect his wish.

Once the noises died down and all you heard was deep breathing you opened your eyes again, staring straight forward as you waited. Waited for something to signal it was okay to turn.

That something was a press against your shoulder, a press and a huff of air against your exposed neck.

From the edge of your vision a nose peeked, making you turn and stare right into his scarred eye.

"Wow." It caught you off guard and you stubled backwards just a small bit, staring and laughing at yourself for falling on your ass. "Okay. Big guy. That's ..wow."

You followed his movements as he walked into your view. And you recognised him. All ofrhe features that made Daryl look like himself changed along with him, from the dark, shaggy mane to the scar and beard. Even his tattoos were spots of darker fur, especially clear on the lighter areas.

But, still..

"Wait. So Carol knows about," you wildly gestured at his entire self. "you know, this. She's seen you? And what about the butcher? That comment of hers, she knew."

You gasped in realisation. "You were testing me! You could hear us, you were there on purpose oh my god."

Daryl only sat and listened to your rambling. If anyone had asked him how he envisioned this scene to go, he would have never guessed this to be the way. Not that he was complaining or anything, he liked this.

He liked you, and you liked him too, even in this shape.

With a tap to your hand and his paw covering his eyes he asked you to look away once more, changing back to his human self and getting dressed before coming to press a kiss to your temple. "So, ya sure this's all fine?"

You stood up to join him at eye level. "You're either the most dense man ever, or are still convinced you don't deserve love just because you're different." Your deadpan look spoke more than needed.

"Yeah, alrigh'. Sorry." He shook his head in apology.

"You literally just turned into a goddamn werewolf." You paused. "Wait. That is correct, right? You're a werewolf? I mean, I don't wanna assume and be wrong, or offensive.."

He kept his head low but nodded, telling you were correct in your observations.

You stepped into his space and peppered his face with kisses, grabbing his hands to fake a sense of chaining him to you and it worked. He let himself melt into you and accept your affection.

Your love.

"Let's go home?"

With a nod he stepped back go retrieve your items. "Yeah. Home's good."

The walk home was silent, only sporadic and very random questions with short and simple answers.

Only when he dropped you off at home he spoke full sentences again. "I wan' ya t'move in with me."

You shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, okay. But we gotta clean the place first."

With a nod he agreed and let you go for the day. Only a week later moving the last of your items into his home after strategically cleaning and rearranging his home to accomodate two people.

That night, in bed all cuddled up together after a shower, Daryl pressed his lips against your jaw and uttered three simple words.

"I love ya."

A/N: Okay yeah damn that became way longer than I originally planned. But it wad fun! Hope you enjoyed it~

[lady-ashfade]

Cantober: can you do Yandere class 1a doing a trick-or-treat contest!

🍬 Candy Competition 🍬

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Yan!Class 1A x Gn!Reader

Fall Tober Day 2

WARNINGS: Yandere, Light-Hearted, Reader being tugged around, short but cute, rushed ending.

GENRA: Imagine/HC’s

WORDS: 1.5k

A/N: where have I been? That’s interesting- I had surprising surgery and it took all my motivation away, so I have been recovering from that….Yayyy

All weeks lead to this moment. All that time you spent putting on makeup in your mirror, saving to buy that costume, and time it spent to get it right- all came down to this moment.

“Has everyone brought a coat?” Iida shouts above your wailing classmates as they all express their excitement. It was a really nice sight to see everyone so happy and not at each other’s throats. The girls complementing one other on their costumes, taking pictures and hyping up the other. While the boys did the same, it was different. Like, some of them had fake weapons and decided to have a soft fight.

Izuku was dressed as…Of course it’s allmight but one of his old suits. He was explaining the lore to todoroki who stood there with a calm expression in a vampire outfit. It was plain, you knew he just walked into a store and then threw on whatever was in the packet. But, he looked lovely nonetheless.

“Love your costume,” a voice popped up from behind you, following with a pair of hands tugging on your outfit. Turning around you see a floating costume — Hagakure was speaking. You smile and slight shuffling away, hoping to not draw attention to leaning away from the touch.

“Thanks! It cost a lot but it was worth it!!” You shout and show it off with your hands as you giggle happily.

It took a minute to realize what she had on before your mouth started to squeak with excitement, “You’re costume is so perfect, it makes it more scary.” if she wasn’t invisible she would have turn a different shade by now. She was going as Raven from teen titans, it was cool to see it just floating and no one behind the hood.

“I also think you look wonderful” a shy but perky voice chirps. You look to the side and see koda with a shy look on his face, red tented cheeks and a avoided gaze. He was dressed up in a white lab coat, well more of a doctors coat plus all the equipment.

You giggled and reach for the bird on his shoulder who graciously allows you to pet its head, “Dr. Dolittle? A little on the nose,” as the bird pushes its head back into your hand while koda freaks out a bit, but you are quick to dismiss his embarrassment.

“Not a bad thing tho! I honestly like your costume, plus you have so many animals— it’s easily my favorite.”

Suddenly everyone went quiet, all eyes turned to you and you awkwardly shuffled. Tension filled the air and you dropped your hand from the bird who whined at the loss. “What? Why are you all staring at me?” It didn’t take but a few seconds before everyone crowned around you, pushing poor koda away before showing off their amazing costumes.

“What about me? You said you loved my costume,” Mina pouts her lips as she plays with her skirt. You quickly tried to comfort her, “So you think I look cute? Awe baby!!” She went to kiss you before Kaminari got in her place in front of you. 

“I’m a handsome devil!! Flynn Rider, from your fav Disney movie,” a week before this he begged you to be Rapunzel and even though you declined he still kept the costume. He heard you say flynn was hot, so obviously you think he’s hot now. “Don’t fight it, or the smolder.” And he pulls out the exact face flynn does in the movie….How long did he practice that?

“You helped me make the costume,” Shouji lift up his shoulders and moves is arms- he was Doc Ock. And you did help him when he asked, honestly you picked it out for him. Once you suggested it and he planned on doing what you wanted.

“I believe I get a chance to speak,” Todoroki raises his hand amongst the crowd before people talk over him.

They are all shouting now, each one of them getting pushed, many hands tried to grab you, and yet when they tried to kiss you or flirt it went over your head because something else was happening.

“Everyone stop yelling!” A loud and annoyed voice echoes over everyone, making the whole class stop and straighten up. You sigh in relief, thanking your teacher in your mind for saving you. “Everyone pay attention, you have two hours to complete this area. Who ever gets the most candy wins.”

As usual, The Dekusquad pair up, along with the Dakusquad and the more chill ones group together. “What do we win?” Denki asks while everyone nods.

“Two tickets to see F/B.” Mic pops out of nowhere and announces the prize. You let out a streak of excitement and everyone turns.

“I’m winning this thing!” your obsessed classmate glare at each other, there was only one way to get this right- is to make sure you win! Or, win themselves and take you — either way they wanna play tug of war for your attention.

Everyone including you lined up at the gates and you noticed a timer above the arch. It looks real, you think as you stare at the fake town in front of you. It was to dangerous to have the whole school in the city when you guys seem to have targets on your back, so they built a whole small city inside the USJ!! You heard that some parents are here, actors and even pro!heros who have the time to spare.

As the clock counted down in the tenths you started to fiddle, same as your classmates while getting impatient. “Good luck everyone! Sorry if I happened to get competitive.” you shout just before the time loudly goes off.

You expected to get trampled over so you started to run but the area around you changed.

You were in the middle of the street!! Fake houses to your every turn, Halloween decorations in the small yards. “What hero can transport?” it was a question that you shake off before heading to the house on your left.

Somewhere in the distance your classmates cause hell to find you, and get as much candy as they can to win.

“Two lollipops? What are you, cheap?” Katsuki yells at the old lady who opened the door, his friends awkwardly shuffling in the back. Kirishima tugged him by the back collar away from the lady and back to the path.

“Can’t yell at people man! What would y/n say? So unmanly.” kats just huffs at his best friend and pulls away from his grip. All things considered they have been doing well, their bags are getting full and heavy.

“Look who I found?” A feminine voice speaks out, making the boys turn back around. They see you tripping over your shoes as Mina gives you a little nudge closer.

“Mina,” you whine, “I love hanging out but I have to win! This is F/S we are talking about here, I would sell my soul to get tickets.” You try to stray away from them but they block you.

“We can woke together! It’s no different then going alone.” Denki was at your side and placed his arm around you, getting himself shocked at the touch of you.

“We have so much candy, wouldn’t you like to join in? We have more then you!” Sero tries to manipulate you into staying.

So you sigh and let them take you to the other houses, and soon enough your bag is full but you try and push the candy down to make more room.

“I can’t believe you guys,” you smile, “If I win, I am for sure taking one of you!!”

Green Flash.

The place you were standing in is now empty and no sign of you, a gust of wind shakes their clothes and hair. There was only one person who could have made that struck of green energy…

“Deku!” Katsuki shouts but he wasn’t heard by the corporate.

The Dekusquad had taken you and had no plan of letting you go, they only have ten minutes left to make sure you, or themselves won. And they would be damned if they let anyone else win.

“Come on darling,” a hand stroked your cheek and made your eyes open. You saw shoto looking at you, while izuku held you in his arms. “Can’t win if you have your eyes closed.”

“Yeah!” Shoto was pushed aside by a overly excited Ochako. “We wanted to help you win, we already have three full bags.” Iida, Shoto, and Froppy held up the full bags and your eyes go wide.

“Izuku, you can put me down now.” he was quickly to apologize and let you down, turning bright red and looked shameful.

“Next time warn me,” you get a feel for standing again as iida helps you stand straight without getting dizzy.

Over all you had a amazing time with your friends even if they weren’t easy to handle. And when you walked back into the gates, there was a chance of winning. Thought you didn’t win first place, the dekusquad did and promised you the tickets…

“What, which one of us gets to go…”

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny was born as a Halfa

So! Jack and Maddie are a little More insane in this.

When studying Ghosts, they become convinced that the only way to defeat the Ghostly Threat is to make a Ghost of their own. One who will fight on their Side. And they do believe that a "Good Ghost" is Possible, but only if fused with a Human to balance out the "Inherent Evil".

So, when Maddie gets pregnant they take the opportunity to try and make one of these theoretical "Halfas" by testing on the Baby in the Womb.

Jazz if Born, and she is not a Halfa. She is merely an extremely Liminal Toddler, so Jack and Maddie consider the experiment a Failure. They raise Jazz as per usual, and then 2 years later Jack and Maddie try again.

They have Danny, and this time he is a True Halfa! They did it! Now all they have to do is turn the Baby into the perfect Weapon against Ghosts!

Danny is raised less like a Baby and more like a Weapon. His Parents still treat him well, and give him some amount of love, but there is never any doubt in his mind that his only purpose in Life is to be the perfect weapon against Ghosts.

The only person who really treats him like something more than a Weapon is Jazz, who likes to sneak into his Room and play with him when they parents are out of the House.

(Later addition: They also have Ellie as a Kid a few years later, but because they messed up the process she is not as Stable as Danny is. She is 4 years younger than he is)

Then, they day he had been preparing for his whole life comes. When he is 10, a Ghost manages to sneak through a Natural Portal into Amity Park, and the Fentons send him to go deal with it as his First Test Run.

But when he gets there, he doesn't find an Evil Ghost bent on killing everyone in town. He finds a Teenage Girl, with blue flaming Hair, crying to herself.

(Idk how long ago Ember died, so lets just assume she died around 6 years before Canon)

He doesn't attack immediately, and when the girl sees him she invites him to sit with her. Against his better judgement, he agrees and sits with her.

She talks to him for a bit, and eventually explained why she was crying. Apparently she only died a few weeks ago and had finally found her way back to the Living World, back home. But when she got there she found that nobody really cared about her Death.

She had died in a House Fire, and because she had spent her entire night waiting for her Boyfriend to show up for a Date, she was too tired to wake up in time to escape.

Her Parents had obviously mourned, but her supposed friends and her boyfriend had hardly cared. In fact, it turned out that her Boyfriend had stood her up because he was cheating on her. So she had run off into the Park and sat down to Cry about it, where Danny had found her.

And Danny is confused.

His entire life, he has heard that Ghosts are Non-Sentient Killing Machines. That they don't feel any emotion aside from Malice. That they aren't People.

But this Girl is as Human as anybody else he has ever known. Perhaps even More Human.

He decides to ignore The Fentons Orders, and lets her go back through the Portal she had come through.

When he gets Home, the Fentons are less than pleased. They are Livid in fact.

Their Perfect Weapon was a Failure after all! It's too much like a Ghost to ever side with the Humans! It's just another Spook!

And they know what to do with Spooks.

They lock him up in the Lab, and decide to cut him open Later to figure out what went wrong.

They'll be successful next time.

Thankfully, their jeers to Danny are heard by Jazz in the other Room, and she doesn't like this one bit. So that night, she takes Danny and Ellie with her and Runs away. They need to get out of Amity Park, out Illinois even. They run and run, sneaking onto Buses, hitchhiking, even jumping on Trains.

Eventually they end up in a place called Gotham City.

...

Ages at the end.

Jazz: 12

Danny: 10

Ellie: 6

[canine-economy]

On Swansea’s (often understated) role in Mouthwashing

I say this as a big swansea fan but I don’t rlly understand why ppl are acting like he’s not also complicit in what happened to Anya? AUs where “Anya tells Swansea” and he jumps to violently defend her don’t make sense to me because canonically she does tell him, as he admits to Jimmy. But swansea represents another way of interacting with the capitalist heteropatriarchy that ALSO harms victims: holistic jadedness and resignation.

Swansea is across the board unkind to the Tulpar crew. We can’t forget that he calls anya a “so-called nurse”

and says this to Jimmy, which (if unintentionally) reiterates Jimmy’s own warped perception of Anya’s usefulness and competence. This allows Jimmy to feel justified in his imagination of the nurse’s inferiority. Swansea’s clear lack of respect for Jimmy does less to hurt Jimmy than his lack of respect for Anya harms Anya, because at the end of the day, Swansea’s attitude is contextualized by the violent culture it exists in and he does nothing to reconcile with that when Jimmy becomes the captain. His resignation can thus be weaponized even by Jimmy, a man who Swansea disrespects but whose power he doesn’t try to meaningfully jeopardize, because his across-the-board disdain punches people already marginalized by the environment twice as hard as it does those with power.

Swansea doesn’t position himself as an ally, he positions himself as willfully uninvolved in everything, an observer to the shitshow ride to hell. Just because he dislikes Jimmy doesn’t mean he aligns with Anya. He makes it clear that he’s not on her side, either. After a life of doing what he felt was expected of him, Swansea on the Tulpar looks out for Swansea and Swansea’s comfort. In trying to situate himself outside of the politics of it all as an older white man, he simply allows them to play out. The toxic culture keeps existing, playing out in the microcosm that is this freighter, and Swansea in all his experience recognizes that shit has hit the fan and elects to coast through it, even explicitly numbing himself to it by breaking his sobriety. It is, of course, hard to force yourself to be sober—to see clearly. But had Swansea forced himself to get involved sooner, he might have set a precedent for Daisuke to recognize Jimmy’s abuse, which could have saved Daisuke’s life as well as created a safe space for Anya. But Swansea’s inaction forces both victims to confront an abuser on their own, unable to reap benefits from his privilege and experience.

Jimmy is clearly intimidated by swansea in a way he is not by Anya, Daisuke, or a post-crash Curly (Swansea, for example, physically manifests as an aggressor in Jimmy’s “responsibility sequences”, and Jimmy ties Swansea up to avoid what he sees as the real possibility of pushback that he doesn’t conceive of Anya being able to do). Swansea has a power he does not act on or with until it is far, far too late. In fact, he acknowledges in his final monologue that he was dissatisfied with the discomfort with opening his eyes and living an exemplary “good man”s life. The best days of his life are ones in which he’s belligerently drunk—days in which he didn’t have to hold himself accountable. He regrets the life he spent performing for higher-ups and we watch him reject it by scorning Captain Jimmy, but he also doesn’t want to be held responsible for helping other people when it’s their turn to endure the expectations and violence from similar (if not the same) higher powers. Tragically, he possesses the hindsight to recognize that how he acted on the Tulpar consequently wasn’t what Daisuke needed out of a role model, leading to Daisuke becoming a victim. His hands-off approach to emotional engagement with his young male intern (another symptom of patriarchal gender norms) may have been to avoid Daisuke turning out miserable and jaded like himself, but it doesn’t actually indicate to an already-confused Daisuke what the dangers of that attitude are. Swansea never admits his own shortcomings in a tangible way which, had they come from a man with experience and prestige like himself, may have shifted that culture that failed Anya. She comes to him with the story not because he has situated himself as any earnest friend, but likely out of desperation on a ship Jimmy now controls.

When we allow “the machine” (Swansea’s own words) to beat us down to the point that we don’t find it productive to challenge unjust power dynamics, we become complicit. I think too many people get hung up on his disdain for Jimmy and Jimmy’s fear of Swansea as a marker of allyship with Anya, but the truth is that Swansea. Is a bad ally. He’s hardly one at all. His long stint in the demanding capitalist environment molded a perfectly complicit result out of him, as it aspires to do, even if Swansea bitterly recognizes that. Jimmy’s overt violence from a position of power is a different and much more brutal approach to abuse enabled by people who have been left too tired and bitter to care that he does it. A man who could’ve intimidated and even threatened Jimmy is too resigned to try until there is literally nobody but himself left to fight for, which is an attitude carefully cultivated among the lower rungs of hierarchies to keep the top safe. Swansea in particular seems very unhappy with the capitalistic, patriarchal expectations laid out for him as a father, husband, and laborer. This becomes particularly resonant when you realize the symbolism of his role as mechanic: a job that can be deeply unpersonal, tasked with keeping the ship (the machine, if you will) itself going while other roles are more focused on managing the humans inside of it (e.g. nurse, captain). His decision to just stop trying and spare himself the grief instead of questioning why those expectations exist and how they would hurt the others onboard only delays him being directly targeted by Jimmy and doesn’t interrupt the latter’s violence.

Not a single man in mouthwashing is innocent in Anya’s victimhood. This is a statement tentatively uninclusive of Daisuke, because I think the game very deliberately positions him outside of manhood through his youth and thus struggling with the concept of “fitting in” to the patriarchy. Curly, Jimmy, and Swansea all represent different failures that ultimately perpetuate Anya’s suffering and force her to defend herself and finally take her life into her own hands. A holistic analysis of rape culture in MW necessarily engages with all three of them. Only not being a friend and ally to rapists and other male abusers isn’t enough, and Swansea proves it.

[morepeachyogurt]

i love you, i do, but i cannot fucking stomach you

1. richard siken | 2. david foster wallace | 3. slavoj žižek | 4. x? | 5. succession, jesse armstrong. gif by @lesbiankendall | 6. orla gartland | 7. trista mateer | 8. ilya repin | 9. iain thomas | 10. thoroughbreds, cory finley | 11. yrsa daley-ward |

text id below

1. sometimes you get so close to someone you end up on the other side of them

2. [in red highlight] everything i’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it.

3. [white text on a background of a field] A FRIEND HAS TO BE OUTSIDE MY REACH, BEYOND MY GRASP. AND THERE CAN BE NO FRIENDSHIP WITH SOMEONE WHOM I AM NOT READY TO BETRAY: A FRIEND IS SOMEONE I CAN BETRAY WITH LOVE.

4. Long before Caesar and Brutus were lessons, they were friends. // They played with stick swords in their kingdom of trees // and dressed up in crowns of flowers // and painted mud on each other's faces. // The pair was often found walking down dirt roads, // Caesar stomping proud and tall, // and Brutus- step by step- placing his feet into the footprints left behind. // Caesar grew into a strong Roman man. // Brutus grew into Caesar's shoes. // They walked to a wishing well and they threw in their weapons // and Caesar whispered a prophecy: // "We live and die together." // The day before the slaughter, Brutus took pause. // He turned to Caesar and thought // "I'll love you twice as hard today to make up // for tomorrow," // and they stayed up and played cards on the kitchen floor. // It wasn't until the next morning that Brutus realized how cold the tile was. // Life and death are not mutually exclusive. // When Caesar died, so did Brutus, in the sense that he never really lived again. // In the present, when someone mentions one of them, // they seldom exclude mention of the other.

5. a scene from succession. the characters kendall and stewy are in a dimly lit alley, one walks away from the other while saying “you’re my third oldest friend. you fucked me like a tied goat. we’re great.”

6. I'm not happy if you're not happy // And swear that you're always sad // You're pathetic, I resent it // When you're down, it hurts so bad

7. I've gotten so good about not flinching at the sound of your name that people don't know I'd still throw myself mouth-open into the ocean for the chance to drown somewhere you might see it.

8. the painting ‘Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivana’. it depicts a man holding another man who is bleeding profusely from his head.

9. there are a million ways to bleed, but you are by far my favorite.

10. scene from the movie thoroughbreds. a character lays crying wrapped around her friend, she is covered in blood, her friend is unconscious.

11. [in pink highlight] and be wary of friends, yeah? they are the ones who kill you, in the end.

[dyaz-stories]

you know my tongue is a weapon || gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: Shoko suggests a study night, but Gojo's bored and he doesn't want to study. So, instead, he offers to play a game, when all the others have left to get some food: every time he gets an answer right, he gets a kiss.

As you soon find out, Gojo can be very good at studying, as long as he gets something out of it.

word count: 3.8k

genre: college!AU, mostly fluff i think

cw: kissing, making out, semi-public kissing, unresolved sexual tension, reader is insecure and is therefore an unreliable narrator, dry humping ig, fem reader (the word girl is used once)

a/n: first time writing for jujutsu and for gojo! any feedback is appreciated, and i hope you enjoy yourselves :)

soundtrack

prequel

Exam season is never a fun time to be on campus. Stress fills the air, the hallways, the always full libraries, even the coffee shops where people usually meet to relax between two classes. It’s the only conversation subject between sleep-deprived students, looming over their head threateningly at any time of the day and night. It’s stifling, a weight on their chest that never quite wears off.

As for you, well, you’re doing alright.

Oh, for sure, it’s a lot of work, and you’re not thrilled about it by any stretch of the imagination, but academia is your thing, so you don’t find it nearly as crushing as others do. You’re more terrified of the time period that comes afterwards, while you’re waiting for the results like Judgement day.

In the meantime, you’ve given up on trying to find a spot to study in the library, and you’ve been doing most of it in your small student room. You haven’t stepped outside in days when Shoko texts you to suggest a study night. You suspect that she hasn’t started working and intends to cram, but you take her up on the offer nonetheless.

You show up at her place right on time — you always are — with your notes and some snacks. You wait quietly after knocking, trying to make sense of the chatter you hear on the other side of the door. She had mentioned she would ask a few other people if they wanted to join, which you had assumed would be fine, but faced with the reality of it now you can feel a lump growing in your throat. Academia might be easy for you, but people… aren’t.

When the door opens to reveal Gojo Satoru, piercing blue eyes meeting yours through white locks of hair that he pushes out of his face a second later, you fully consider turning around and leaving.

“You made it,” he says, shooting you a wide grin.

“Hi,” you squeak in reply.

Gojo is a… friend. Ish. Kinda. You think. Well, he’s a friend of Shoko’s, anyway, so the two of you have hung out, socially, before. Up until last summer, you assumed he didn’t even know your name.

“Thank God you’re here,” Shoko says, appearing from behind him to grab your hand. “No one here wants to work. We need to whip these imbeciles into shape or something.”

“I’m working,” Nanami sighs from the table in the living room, where he’s sitting alone.

“I was just waiting for everyone to be here, Shoko,” Geto says, his voice soft and even, as he approaches the table.

You set your bag down, giving Nanami an sympathetic smile, and he pushes his glasses higher on his nose. When he nods at you, you’re pretty sure it’s a silent way of saying ‘thank you for not leaving me alone with them’.

“What are you guys starting with?” you ask, pulling some books out of your bag.

Everyone here has different majors, but with some classes in common. You’re not sure how efficient this enterprise is going to be, if you’re completely honest, but as Gojo lets himself fall on a chair with a dramatic sigh, you suppose it can’t be worse than if he was left to his own devices.

“I’m doing literature, algebra and physics tonight!” Haibara announces, perhaps a tad too enthusiastic. You don’t want to crush his hopes and dreams, but—

“You’re never going to get through all that in one night,” Nanami says with a frown.

“Don’t listen to him”, Gojo intervenes, “you can do anything you set your mind to.”

There are stars in Haibara’s eyes when he looks at him, but you notice the glances Gojo is stealing at Nanami, and the way his smile widens when Nanami grits his teeth in annoyance. You bite your lip so you don’t let out a chuckle.

“Do you want to start with literature with me?” you offer. “Nanami, you’ll have to handle algebra because I’m not taking any algebra classes this semester.”

The corner of Nanami’s lips curves to form a smile.

“It’s good that someone here is taking this seriously.”

“Ugh,” Gojo mutters. “Fine. Hey, Suguru, do you know what tests I have next week?”

Nanami buries his head in his hands with a pained groan, and you laugh again, lump gone from your throat now, as you move your chair to come sit next to Haibara. Gojo’s eyes follow your movement silently. When you lean over the same textbook as Haibara, shoulders brushing against his as you push a lock of hair behind your ear, his expression turns thoughtful. It’s only when Geto drops a book in front of him that he snaps out of it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do shots instead?” he asks, tone sour.

“Man, don’t tempt me,” Shoko whines as she sits down as well. “The shots will have to wait.”

Truly, Gojo thinks, sadder words have never been spoken.

Nanami calls it quits right before 10 pm. He’s tried to leave a few times by then, usually because of one of Gojo’s quips, but Shoko’s managed to keep him around until then. It doesn’t help how delighted Gojo gets by his reactions, and you can’t blame him for abandoning you. You don’t doubt for a second that he would have been much more productive without everyone else around.

“If they pass their exams, we should give ourselves all the credit for that,” he comments at your intention, right before walking out the door. “Good luck with them.”

Then he’s gone, before Gojo can start to protest about why he is not getting any encouragements, even though he’s suffering so much, and everyone is mean, and nothing about this is fun, and—

Haibara, despite his best intentions, falls asleep on the couch less than thirty minutes later. It was just supposed to be quick nap, but by midnight he’s still down, and you can’t bring yourself to wake him up. Plus it’s not like you were making a lot of progress with him anyway, so he just might be better off sleeping.

It’s not long after that that Shoko starts to get real antsy. So far, she has kept on track despite Gojo’s attempts at distracting her, but you can tell she is starting to get incredibly bored. Somehow, that doesn’t seem to be Gojo’s case, even if the way his leg bounces underneath his chair tells you he’s itching to do anything other than sit here doing nothing.

“Fuck it,” Shoko says, finally giving up. “I’m going to get something to eat.”

Geto frowns.

“Now? Alone?”

“As if anything would happen to her,” Gojo says, spinning a pen between his fingers. “She’ll be the scariest person out there.”

Geto rolls his eyes.

“I’ll come with you,” he tells Shoko, and she shrugs. “Do you want to come too, Satoru?”

Gojo lets himself fall down on his chair, looking at Geto with his head hanging behind the back of the chair.

“Nah,” he says after a few seconds of intense deliberation. “Can’t abandon the teacher here.”

You feel your face heating up.

“Oh, I mean, I’m sure I’ll be fine. If you want to go, you should—”

“It’s fine,” he handwaves your protests away. “I’ll finally get some work done without Shoko here to constantly distract me with—”

He bursts out laughing when Shoko throws her pen at him.

“We’ll be right back,” she announces, standing up. “You,” she points at Gojo, “play nice. And you,” she gives you a severe look, “don’t hesitate to hit him. I’m not joking.”

She leaves the room, escorted by Geto. Haibara doesn’t even stir when the door slams.

“Alright,” Gojo says, not wasting a second to reach for your chair so he can pull you closer to him, “it’s my turn to get my own personal tutor.” His fingers brush against your leg as he pulls you in, and you know, from how his eyes seem to drink in everything about you, that he doesn’t miss your quiet gasp nor the way your breath quickens. You’ve noticed this before, too. If he likes annoying Nanami, he seems to delight in your reactions at least as much — though he tries to make you laugh or to fluster you rather than piss you off.

“Um,” you say, with the eloquence that characterizes you around him, “what do you need help with?”

He tilts his head to the side as he studies you. You find him breathtaking, you always do, but you think you’ve gotten better at hiding it, so even if it feels like he’s looking right into your soul, you give him an easy smile.

Somehow, he is the one who ends up averting his eyes.

“How about philosophy?”

Right, the two of you share that one class on the history of ideas.

“Sure,” you say, already grabbing a book and thumbing through it. “I’ve taken quite a few notes for that class, actually, I can give them to you if you—”

“That’s boring,” he interrupts you. “We should do something else.”

You put down your book, intrigued, and something twists in your stomach when you see the look he’s giving you. He’s like a cat with a mouse, with exactly the same hunger in his eyes.

“What—” you clear your throat when your voice cracks. “What are you suggesting?”

“Well,” he leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and putting his chin in his palm, “I need an incentive to work, you know?”

You swallow. Sure.

“So how ‘bout I get a kiss for every right answer I give you?”

And you almost choke on air.

“What?” you manage to croak. Blood is rushing to your face, and it feels like your brain is short-circuiting. Your heart’s beating faster, hammering in your chest, and you feel your palms grow sweaty.

“C’mon,” he teases, reaching out to pull on a lock of your hair and twirl it around his finger, and you know, you know, he knows he’s got you right where he wants to, “help me study.”

“Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he all but purrs.

“Satoru,” you say, “what are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” he blinks innocently. “Just trying to find a fun way to study.”

You examine him carefully, try to figure out what, exactly, is going on behind these beautiful eyes of his. You’ve had— moments, with him. He fell asleep on your shoulder in the car once. He held your hand through a busy festival, teasing you about not wanting you to get lost, and later helped you get on his shoulders so you’d get a better view of the stage. The one time you agreed to accompany Shoko to the club, you remember his hands on your hips, his breath against your ear, the ghost of his lips to your neck. But nothing actually happened between the two of you. You’d told yourself that it was all a distraction for him, that he didn’t want more.

This isn’t exactly confirmation. You don’t doubt that it’s all in good fun still, and knowing you, and how hard you tend to fall, you should walk away while you have the chance.

But you really, really want to kiss him. Want to know what it would feel like to taste his lips, to have his body pressed against yours, to feel his hands all over you.

You always take the smart decision. This is not the smart decision. But…

“What if you get it wrong?” you ask.

Satoru blinks.

“You can, uh, spray me with a water bottle?”

You let out a brief laugh.

“Isn’t that a dog thing? That feels unethical, Satoru.”

He preens at your use of his name.

“You should take your chance,” he drawls. “Shoko says it’s really cathartic.”

You’re not sure you need catharsis, but you feel a little lighter now. It’s all a joke to him, clearly, and from what you’ve seen in the past couple of hours, he hasn’t seriously studied once. He’s not going to get the answers right. You don’t think he’s even trying to.

“Fine,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes, reaching out for a water bottle and positioning your chair so you’re facing him. “Who came up with the notion of civil disobed—"

“Thoreau, 1848, but the essay was republished with that name in 1866.”

You stare. Gojo gives you a lazy smile.

“Now where’s my kiss?”

“Um,” you say. You feel incredibly awkward now. He’s leaning back against his chair, with eyes that have not left you once since he’s suggested that idea. You— have to move, now, don’t you?

Very slowly, very hesitantly, you push yourself to your feet. Satoru doesn’t move at all, and you don’t know if it relieves you or stresses you out even more. The position is quite uncomfortable, too, with you standing and him sitting down. You don’t know that you’ve ever towered over him like that. Gingerly, you put a hand on his shoulder, and then you’re leaning over him, and then you’re kissing him, and then you’re moving away as fast as you can. This was just a peck, really, a press of your lips to his that lasted a second, tops, and that you’re already trying to forget about.

You’re not a teenager anymore, and you know this shouldn’t be getting to you that much, but it’s— it’s Satoru Gojo. You’ve worked very, very hard not to think of him like that, because you didn’t want to let yourself get hurt. And now, you’ve let yourself be dragged into this so easily? Ugh. You wish you could slap yourself.

“Okay,” you say, voice more high-pitched than you’d like, but still understandable, which you’re grateful for. “Next, um, can you explain what philosopher kings are?”

Surely—

“Of course,” Satoru pretty much sing-songs. “Plato thought that cities should be ruled by trained philosophers, because only a philosopher would know and act for the good of a city.” There’s a brief pause, before he adds, “Aristotle thought that was bullshit, though. For the record.”

And then he waits. You narrow your eyes at him.

“When did you study for that?”

“I never study,” he answers lightly.

Instead of standing up this time, you scoot your chair closer to him, and you lean forward. Satoru chuckles, but humors you — even if the temptation of leaning further back to make you come to him, because you’re just adorable when you’re flustered, is great. This time, when you kiss him, though, he presses forward before you can move away, his nose brushing against your cheek as he chases after you. And oh, what a sight you are after that, wide eyed, lips parted, hands tightening on your notes.

“Next?” he asks.

“Right,” you say. You’re— not sure what’s happening here, to be quite honest. Should you stop this? You— don’t think you want to, but you’re also not sure what this charade is all about. “Um. Spinoza thought that free will—”

“—could only be reached through knowledge, and that most people never obtained it.”

Okay.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a physics major?”

He raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely amused.

“Determinism’s a pretty big deal in science, actually, but let’s not change the subject here.”

You bite your lower lip, and his eyes track the movement like he’s starving for you.

You’re feeling hot all over, anticipation burning inside of you, and this time, you can’t pretend that he hasn’t done this on purpose. That he wanted to kiss you. You can’t quite reconcile the way you see yourself with that thought — how could Gojo Satoru want you, of all people? — but you find that it doesn’t matter.

You lean towards him once more, and this time, you let yourself kiss him. Really kiss him. You press your lips to his, soft at first, but when you don’t move away immediately, you feel him pressing against you, one hand coming to cup your cheek. His teeth pull at your bottom lip, and you let out a involuntary gasp. He doesn’t waste the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth, and you keep inching closer to him, hands coming to his shoulders for support. You can feel yourself melt into him, and you curse your common sense when it leads you to break away from the kiss.

It doesn’t deter Satoru, though, because as you do, his hand slides under your knee, and next thing you know, he’s pulled you into his lap. His face is deliciously flushed, pink hue under the pale skin. He looks up at you, long fingers tightening around your thighs.

“We should waste less time like that,” he says.

Shoko likes to say he’s insufferable, and you can see why. Everything all seems to come so easy to him, and you’re defenseless against the way your heart races. When his eyes are on you, it feels like you’re the only person in the world. You’re not usually the type to indulge in that idea, but, ah, what’s the harm, as long as you know how to come back to earth later on?

You shake your head as you take him in.

“How are you even doing that?” you ask, mildly peeved.

“Haven’t you heard?” he grins widely. “I’m a genius.”

You roll your eyes at him. You’ve heard about that, of course, about how he maintains stellar grades without breaking a sweat. You just hadn’t seen that in application until now. In class, he’s usually asleep, or taking great joy in bothering the teacher. You’ve never seen him try to get something.

“Well, where’s my question?”

You sigh, putting your arms around his neck. You left your notes on the table, meaning that you might be less prepared than he is, actually.

“Descartes famously said—”

“Cogito ergo sum. C’mon, rational doubt is at the heart of science. I’m starting to think you’re just trying to kiss me.”

You do want to kiss him, but you have the self-control to shrug.

“Well, if you don’t want to—”

His mouth is on yours before you can think of how to end that sentence. He kisses you hungrily, hands gripping your hips as he tries to pulls you closer to him. Your chest presses into his, and you tighten your hold around him, fingers running through his hair. He grunts when you pull on it slightly, tilts his head back a little more to give you better access to his mouth, and when his tongue brushes against yours once more, you can’t help but to rock your hips against his. The friction makes you gasp into his mouth, and one of your hands falls down to his shoulder, fisting his shirt as you try to find better support.

“Fuck,“ you hear him mumble underneath you, right as you feel him grow hard. He pushes up against you. His fingers dig into your skin, one hand slipping under your shirt to run over your skin, leaving a trail of fire behind. It moves higher, brushing against your bra.

Against your better judgement, your hands travel down his body, tracing over his muscles. You feel him twitch under you, and when you roll your hips once more, with much more intent than the first time, he groans.

“Satoru,” you whisper, though even you don’t know if it’s a plea for him to stop or to keep going.

His eyes widen, and you feel him lift you up easily, pushing you onto the table. You lean back slightly, resting your weight on one hand. He’s red all over now, from his ears to his neck. His pupils are wide, his lips swollen, his hair messy. He looks like sin.

You don’t want to think about what you look like.

“C’mon,” he says. “Last question.”

“Haibara’s in the living room,” you point out. Even you know where this is leading.

“He’s dead asleep,” he merely shrugs. He’s mesmerizing, but you note that the glimmer of amusement that always dances in his eyes. This feels— serious.

“Um,” you say, licking your lips and watching how he bites his as his grip on your waist tightens once more — like he’s holding himself back. “Confucius—”

And then, the front door opens.

Gojo clicks his tongue and reluctantly steps back as you jump down from the table, beelining for the bathroom — you know that kiss is written all over your face.

You glare at yourself in the mirror. Your body’s still tingling, and you’re aching with want, now that release has been denied to you, but you know better. You’re supposed to know better. You take a few seconds to comb through your hair with your hands, and when it no longer looks like someone’s, well, kissed you senseless, you cautiously step back outside.

“We got you some fuel,” Shoko announces loudly, before getting shushes by Geto. He points in Haibara’s direction, who’s started snoring slightly.

“Thank you so much,” you say sweetly. “I’ll— Why are you wet?”

Gojo deadpans as he looks at you but, well, there’s water dripping from his hair, down his chin, and onto the shirt your hands were fisted in just a few minutes earlier, so, you think the question is valid.

“He was splashing water on his face when we got here,” Geto supplies helpfully. “Gojo runs hot.”

“And now it’s all over my floor,” Shoko mutters. “Next time, just wait ‘til the bathroom’s free, huh?”

Gojo looks like he has something to say just on the tip of his tongue, but he glances at you and seems to swallow it back.

“If anything, I made it cleaner,” he proclaims, leaning back on his chair. “Shoko, how long has it been since you cleaned in here? We really need to find you a partner who’s willing to do that stuff, otherwise you’ll keep living in fil—”

Shoko’s pencil case lands right in the middle of his face.

“You absolute brat,” she spits out, “I can’t believe you’d have the nerve to tell me something like that when you rely exclusively on Geto to—”

The bickering continues, but you tune it out. Under the table, Satoru’s knee brushes against yours. It’s almost hesitant at first, before he leans his leg against yours, when he realizes you’re not moving away. This isn’t the smart choice, either, but, ah, you’re always, always the smart girl. Is it so bad to have a night of fun? Is it so bad that you want to know what it would feel like to have him, even if it’s just once?

He’ll break your heart, the voice of reason says in the back of your mind, but then Satoru looks back at you, checking to see if you’re laughing at how he’s making fun of Shoko and, well.

You think you’ll let him.

Any and all feedback in the form of asks, reblogs, comments, tags is highly encouraged and appreciated~ If you enjoy my work, interactions are what keep me writing and motivated!

I haven't written anything in months and I think it shows but, well, I have to restart somewhere lol, so I hope it was still fun for you and you enjoyed yourselves here for a little while. Thank you for reading <3

prequel

[nagaytoe]

Got a req! Howlw about some angst? What would happen after the bad end?

Evanescent

(Adj.) Soon passing out of sight, memory, or existence; quickly fading or disappearing

Solivan Brugmansia X Reader

TWs: Murder, attempted murder, weapons, just a lot of death in general, loss of loved one, shifting blame, like one mention of necrophilia

Word count: 2.3k

I am currently cooking up 3 more scenarios of what could've happened after the bad end on day 2 but this is the first one that's actually finished (there were just too many ideas popping into my head so ofc i have to write for all of them lmao)

Requests: open

Disclaimer: i tried my best to proof-read it and tried using they/them pronouns but when i first wrote it i used she/her, i just hope i got all of 'em lol

Also, apparently 'whose' can also be used for objects as well and not just for people??? Sounds wrong to me but if the internet says it's right then lets hope its right haha

SPOILERS FOR DAY 2 OF THE KID AT THE BACK

Sol was inconsolable, his face buried in your neck, tears staining your shirt. His arms were wrapped around you but you didn’t reciprocate the gesture. How could you anyways? You were dead. Stabbed by Sol's only friend, Hyugo, who was currently cleaning up the gory scene.

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

Just a few moments ago you stumbled upon a horrifying view: Your friend, best friend, and your first love, Jericho Ichabod, laid on the dirty ground of a shed whose door you just broke down, his head barely attached to the neck.

Your knees gave in beneath you as soon as you gazed upon Crowe, grabbing his body, shaking it and willing him to wake up again. How could this happen? He was well liked, nice to everyone he met, who would think about taking his life? You barely registered footsteps behind you because of how loud you were sobbing, but the clanking of metal on the ground didn't slip past you. Turning around, your eyes are met with the sight of someone you didn't expect. You expected a gang leader, a thug, everyone but the one who actually stood in front of you.

Solivan Brugmansia

Just yesterday you befriended the seemingly timid boy and now he was soaked in blood, his red eyes wide as your gazes met.

“[____]...?” Tears of his own started to well up in his eyes which currently roamed over your hunched figure.

“What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here, you need to leave!” By the end of his sentence he was yelling, tears streaming down his face.

Truly a miserable, pathetic sight.

“You killed him, you killed Crowe, didn't you?” Anger was bubbling up in the pit of your stomach. On the inside you were praying to whatever god was watching from heaven above, if there even was one to begin with, that all this was nothing more than a bad dream, hoping insistently to wake up. However, this was a nightmare you were not permitted to ever wake up from.

“I only did what I should've done years ago.” His words caused you to huff in disbelief, “You're not even gonna deny it, huh?”

“I would never lie to you, [____]” Was he fucking serious? He just killed someone, but at least he's not a liar? What the hell was wrong with him?! You were enraged, he had no reason to kill Crowe, to play god by ending his life and taking your love from you.

“Why? Why did you kill him?!”

"BECAUSE I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU AND HE TRIED TO TAKE YOU AWAY FROM ME! I COULDN'T SIT BY AND LET THAT HAPPEN… YOU'RE MINE! MINE ALONE!” he finally snapped, showing his true colors. Was everything he showed you before just a facade? It had to be.

The words he just spoke left a disgusting taste in your mouth. Love? Love?! How dare he use this sweet word in such a disgusting fashion? How dare he taint it in order to justify his vile actions? It made you sick to your stomach and you were blinded by rage as you lunged at him.

“YOU MONSTER!”

You unbuckled the strap of his choker and pulled on it, strangling him in the process.

“YOU LOVE ME?! I LOVED HIM! HE WAS EVERYTHING TO ME! MY BEST FRIEND, MY FIRST LOVE, MY SAVIOR! YOU ARE NOTHING TO ME, I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU! DON'T YOU DARE IMAGINE YOU KNOW ME IN THE SLIGHTEST! I WILL MAKE YOU PAY FOR WHAT YOU'VE DONE!”

Sol was clawing at your wrists by now, but it was no use, every action of his seemed slow and heavy, as if it took a lot of effort, almost as if he was paralyzed.

His hands fell to the side and just as you thought you managed to avenge your love something sharp pierced through your chest.

--

Here you were, taking your last breaths in the arms of the person you despise most.

“[____], please… please stay with me… don't leave me [____]...” his pleas were a stark contrast to what he is screaming at the person who stabbed you.

“HOW COULD YOU!? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!”

Then he went back to sobbing into your shoulder. He seemed completely out of it, switching between grief and anger every other second.

You couldn't seem to make out the words your killer was saying, everything they said was incoherent, except for the last two words:

“No witnesses.”

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

“What do you plan on doing? Hold them until they start rotting?”

Hyugo was standing in front of Sol, who was still sitting on the ground, sobbing and cradling you in his arms. After he managed to clean up the scene, the only thing left to do was the disposal of your corpse.

“Just kill me alongside them.” Sols voice was quiet, barely above a whisper and it was strained from crying and screaming so much. It hurt Hyugo to see his best friend like that.

“You know very well I can't do that.”

“YOU WERE ABLE TO KILL THEM THOUGH! I JUST GOT THEM BACK AND YOU TOOK THEM FROM ME!”

Hyugo couldn't hold back his anger anymore. How could Sol still fail to see that this would've never worked out either way?

“THEY TRIED TO KILL YOU!”

Hyugo sighed deeply in an effort to calm himself before continuing, “Even if I had only knocked them out, do you think they would’ve forgiven you for killing Crowe-”

“Don't you dare bring up that bastards name. All of this is his fault anyways. If it hadn't been for him… me and my sweet [____] would still be together now…”

Sols voice was laced with venom as he gripped your body tighter. You have stopped breathing by now, the color has long drained from your face and the warmth of your skin has vanished. All that was left was an empty shell of who you once were.

Just yesterday, you were breathing, talking, laughing. Now? Now you will never be able to do any such thing again.

“It was you or them, Sol. I need you to understand that. Do you truly believe they could've loved you back after finding out you killed someone? Do you think the two of you would have lived happily ever after?” The blue haired man was trying his best to reason with his best friend, but to no avail.

“We could've made it work, I know that we would have… We were destined to be together, there wouldn't have been any other way…Maybe I should just keep them…”

“Sol.” Hyugo put his hand on the taller males shoulder, who was still sitting on the sheds ground. “We need to bury them.”

Sol seemed to be pondering for a moment, the hold he had on your body relentless.

“I can't… I can't let them go. They're gonna be really scared if we bury them and leave them in the darkness forever…”

“Sol, I'll repeat myself one last time. We need to bury them. What else are we supposed to do with their body? Keep it?” Hyugo put his hands on his hips, his patience wearing thin.

“I see no reason to not keep it…” the males words were muttered, but his friend was still able to hear them.

“You can't be serious! Do you know what happens to a body when it decays? They'll have 2 weeks at best before there's nothing left of them, except for the bones.”

Sol knew his friend was right, but how was he supposed to let go of you?

“They deserve a gravestone… a funeral… they deserve a memorial and not to be buried in the woods like some dead animal…”

Hyugo sighed. He knew that there is pretty much nothing he could do right now to convince Sol to do the right thing, he will keep arguing until he gets his way.

“What's your plan?”

Sol considered his options for a few moments before responding,

“Let's call the cops, make it look like an accident or shift the blame onto someone else”

Hyugo scoffed, “And what do you plan to tell them? We don't exactly have an alibi and there aren't that many families with Katanas either, you know? The only other family I can think of right now is Subarus.”

Red eyes met Hyugos teal ones, it's obvious an idea struck Sol. “That's right…”

Hyugo immediately cut Sol off before the latter could finish his sentence.

“Absolutely not! I will not drag my brothers family into this.”

“He doesn't even like you!” Sol retorted.

The shorter males eyes grew wide for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure.

“You know what? Do whatever you want. Keep their body like some necrophilie if that's what you desire.” Turning on his heel, Hyugo began walking off. He already took care of everything necessary, cleaning the scene and disposing of the weapons alongside Crowes body. He was not in the mood to argue with someone whose judgment was clouded and wouldn't even listen to him in the first place.

Sols rage grew stronger by the minute. How dared he? Hyugo killed his one and only soulmate in cold blood, like they were nothing and now he walked off just like that? No… No, he won't. Sol won't let that happen. He couldn't let him disrespect you like that. Carefully lowering your body to the ground and standing up, just as Hyugo walked out of the cabin, Sol quickly lunged at the shorter, unsuspecting male.

If there was one thing he knew, it was that Hyugo might be good with weapons but he wasn't all that strong physically.

Well, at least he was weaker than Sol. Since Hyugo buried his katana alongside any other evidence all he can fight with were his bare hands.

“SOL, GET OFF OF ME!”

Sols hands wrapped themselves around Hyugos throat, just like yours were wrapped around his not even half an hour ago. Pressing his friend's head into the dirt ground, Sol is blinded by rage. Hyugo clawed at the taller males wrists, kicking him but Sols grip won't loosen. Letting go of the hands that were wrapped around his throat, Hyugo felt the dirt ground around him for something he can potentially defend himself with and sure enough - he managed to grab ahold of a rock, swiftly smashing it against the side of Sols head.

The taller male staggered and collapsed on the floor next to Hyugo, who hit the exact right spot to knock someone out.

Hyugo stood up, dusting off his clothes and sighing. What a mess. He knew that he needed to get rid of the body, even if it'll drive Sol further into madness.

So that's what he did. He buried [____]s body deep in the forest before sitting down by Sol's side, waiting for him to wake up.

—————————

Sol didn't attempt to kill Hyugo again after the first time, though part of the reason might be the ax Hyugo found in the shed and kept on him afterwards for self-protection. Either way, Sol acted like Hyugo didn't exist. To him he was dead anyways.

He tried his best, tried to go to school but the next days there were hell. People talked, gossiped, conspired as to what could've happened to [____] and Crowe. Were they kidnapped by the mafia? Did they commit suicide together? Did they run away together? Did they join a cult? People made up all kinds of stories in order to make sense of the situation, but only Sol and Hyugo were the ones who knew the truth.

After a few days, Sol stopped going to school. He couldn't handle it any longer.

Every time he sat in his classes he would draw you, instead of paying attention to what the teacher was saying.

Every time he sat in art class he was met with the sight of your unoccupied seat.

Every time lunch break rolled around he would go to the library where the two of you met and sit down in the seat he sat in on that day.

After school he would go to your apartment complex and break into your apartment to lay down on your bed, hugging your sheets and pillows, pretending they were you.

Hyugo never told Sol where he had buried you, too anxious about what Sol might do were he to know where you've been buried.

Not even a week passed before Sol decided what he had to do next.

On monday, almost a whole week after your death, Sol went back to school. The place where he first saw you, where he fell for you and in whose proximity you had died. Though, instead of attending class, he walked up the stairs to the school roof. The cool november breeze brushed over his face, twirling his hair and swaying single strands from side to side.

He climbed over the fence, briefly sitting down on it.

There was no further purpose in living, that, he was sure of. He lost his only purpose and what meaning does life have if it has to be spent without you, his darling?

All he could do was atone for his sins.

His mind is occupied with memories of you as he leapt forwards, clutching his fist to his chest where his heart resided.

“See you soon, pumpkin.”

Everything went dark as his body met the ground. There was no pain, there was no afterthought. All that's there is nothingness.

Of course, to the people now surrounding his body there was a gruesome scene, perhaps they would prefer nothingness as well. But if there was nothingness, there would be no note either, tucked away in his fist.

“In the forest”, the note read.

Sol promised to atone for his sins and he would never lie to you, remember?

[delfiore]

—LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO.

pairing: leah williamson x reader

synopsis: a collection of private moments from a relationship between two public figures.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: IMPLICIT SMUT

a/n: this fic was proudly sponsored by hozier’s entire discography and my need to get a gf

SEQUEL: DO YOU THINK I HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT YOU?

ONE. As It Was.

As it always was, London was raining when you came home.

The pitter-patter of the rain hitting the window panes reminded you of childhood, when it was autumn and smelled like the earth, and burying yourself in the piles of dry leaves in the backyard was like swimming in the clouds.

The rain reminded you of love and hot cocoa and scented candles.

The apartment was bathed in an orange hue from the three candles placed neatly on the coffee table when you dragged your suitcase inside. You could still hear the rain when you saw the way her eyes lit up and felt her heart pressed against yours.

You let yourself smile like it was the easiest thing in the world; because it was. You were home because you were with her.

TWO. Eat Your Young.

“Babe! What d’you want for dinner?” You heard her call from the living room.

You had just finished a chapter from your book. “Eh . . . pasta?”

“We already had pasta last night, love.”

“More pasta?” You smiled sheepishly, seeing the way she rolled her eyes but went along with your idea.

To her, there was never anything she could have the heart to deny you from, especially now that she had you back after having lent you to your work for so long.

You were supposed to be halfway across the world filming your new movie. It was only because of the writer’s strike, an unforeseen event, that gave you back to her. You had flown back from a shoot to be there for her in the days after she ruptured her ACL and when she had her surgery, but she found herself missing you the moment you left for work again.

Music played softly from the speaker on the kitchen counter as you chopped the cherry tomatoes while she boiled the noodles since that was the only thing you were okay with her doing without burning the entire building down.

“Remember to let the water boil first,” you said without turning around.

“I did,” she whined, her words trailing longer than necessary if she was telling the truth.

You stopped chopping and glanced behind your shoulder with a deadpan. “Leah.”

The water was clearly not bubbling, and yet the poor rigatoni noodles were already dunked in the pot.

“I’m sorry, I forgot again,” the girl smiled sheepishly.

You rolled your eyes at her and shook your head as she sidled up behind you with her arms around your waist.

You could never grow tired of being held in her arms like this, the warmth created by her chest pressing up against your back, and the anticipation of her timid kisses against your neck. The knife in your hand had long been set down in fear of injury by your trembling hands. Your footballer always liked to tease you until you had no choice but to submit.

“Am I forgiven?” Her voice was husky in your ear.

You were quick to regain your composure before you turned around. “Depends on if those noodles are edible or not.”

“Or we could just ditch dinner and eat each other instead.”

“Cute,” you grinned and pressed your lips against hers. You heard the slightest whimper when you gathered her bottom lip with your teeth and lightly tugged on it. “Needs some seasoning. Otherwise, good enough.”

“That’s what I meant, obviously.”

In the end, the pasta was long forgotten, and you had to order a pizza instead because, by the time she was done, you could barely walk to the other side of the kitchen.

THREE. I, Carrion (Icarian).

You had always been uncomfortable with silence. It was why you brought your speaker everywhere, why you preferred the city over the countryside, why you always felt the need to fill the silence in a room with conversation where there were other people. To you, silence meant a weapon, a way of waging war without actually doing it—the cowardice of dishonesty. So any chance you had to snuff out a glimpse of it, you did. Most of the time, though, the only war waged was the one you did to yourself in your mind.

But whenever you are with her, none of those threats present themselves. She has made silence enjoyable and something you wish you had learned to appreciate earlier, not fear it.

She had put on a movie for the both of you to watch on the couch. You usually felt the need to provide commentary were you with friends, but you were content with enjoying the movie in silence, occasionally looking over to your blonde lover to admire her on the other end of the couch. Your left leg was currently stretched across the cushions, as Leah gave you a foot massage whilst watching the movie.

Sometimes she didn’t feel real, like it was all a sick and twisted dream waiting to drop you on your head when you wake up. But it never did, because every time you reached for her, she was always there; even when you were timezones apart, she would find a way to be there for you in spirit.

“Babe, watch the movie. I like this one,” she spoke, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“I feel like it should be me giving you a foot massage,” you said, lifting your chin towards her healing knee.

“Nah. You were the one sitting on a 12-hour flight to get back here,” she put pressure in the center of your foot.

With your arm on the backrest, you lifted it to brush the tips of your fingers against her hair, inching closer toward the skin on her neck. She noticed, of course, and sent a cheeky grin your way.

Your lover smiled and laughed like a child does. You loved it whenever she showed her teeth when she smiled, stripping down the front of the stoic and reliable captain of European champions that she had to be. You hated that she always lifted others up, yet put so much pressure on herself. You wished that she would be selfish sometimes, for when you weren’t there to pick up the pieces.

You never fared well, being away from her for long, which was why when she pulled you towards her and closed the distance between the two of you on the couch, you obliged.

“I love you,” she whispered after pressing a slow kiss on your lips.

With a lovesick sigh, you caressed her cheek and repeated her words. You loved the way her blue eyes narrowed watching you when you were so close to her face. The movie was running on the TV, but the only one you wanted to watch was her. You’d have to rewind it later.

FOUR. To Someone From A Warm Climate (Uiscefhuaraithe).

There was a simplicity in all of it. This aspect of your life that, amidst the chaos and complications and unfairness in the world, was just that. Love. It was simple, it was sweet, it was yours.

It reminded you of a quote you read once: “He is half of my soul, as the poets say.” If anyone asked you why you loved her, you wouldn’t be able to answer. It would simply be that because she was she, and you were you.

Maybe Zeus never intended for soulmates to find each other. He was the one who split them up in the first place because he knew they would be impossible to part if the two halves merged.

She is half of your soul, as the poets say.

There was something so transcending about loving someone, and having it reciprocated. Every part of it; the good, the bad, the ugly. But you wanted all of it. You wanted to experience everything with her, because she was half of your soul, and it was the only way you could ever feel close to whole again before Zeus split you into two.

Your lover was panting quietly on top of you, her golden hair falling over her face like a lion’s mane. Her eyes fluttered close, her lips parted, her skin was hot to the touch. You watched, seeing the slightest shift in her face as she pulled your legs to her chest, the friction of her rocking slowly turning palpable as it fell into a rhythm. You would hold onto her, your fingers pressing down to create temporary craters into her skin, treading lightly, not wanting to disturb her pleasure, like a lone astronaut exploring a rogue planet.

You sighed contentedly hearing her quiet whines, an indication of an impending release. Your lover has never been loud, like she was saving everything she was feeling for you like everything would only be contained in these four walls, only for the both of you to share.

At some point, she had mumbled something and leaned down to flip you on your front. Even while her movements were restricted by her healing knee, she still liked to be as rough as she could, and you liked it, when she was always so sweet and gentle out of bed. It made you feel wanted, the way she pinned you to the bed and pressed herself against you, the way she intertwined your fingers and coaxed you through your high and kissed you until your lips were bruised and pulsating.

She made you feel wanted, even after you both had given each other euphoria, her frantic kisses to your skin always managed to elicit short giggles out of you. You would whisper in her ear after she had rolled over, the bedsheet warm and damp where she lay, holding her lean body close to yours, just like before Zeus had split you in half.

You are half of her soul, as the poets say, and unless a primordial god physically grabbed you by the waist and tore you away from your soulmate, you would stay here, one moment after another, until infinity. After that, you’d wake up the next morning and do it all over again.

FIVE. Wasteland, Baby!

Your lover was a light sleeper. You had discovered that within the first few months of dating. The way she stirred awake was not dissimilar to how a fussy baby wakes up at the slightest of noises. Usually, she would be quite grumpy as well.

Your circadian rhythm looked more like arrhythmia with the jet lag you were experiencing, in addition to the irregular hours you slept due to having to adjust for filming. Which was why you were in the living room, reading, so your tossing and turning wouldn’t disturb her sleep.

Once again, whenever you were with her, the silence didn’t bother you. Not when you were bathed in her scent wearing her sweater and the premise of her resting a room away from you.

It was around two in the morning when you heard the bedroom door open and close, and the sound of quiet feet shuffling on the floor.

“Hey, you. Why are you awake?” You asked gently, extending a hand out to her.

“I woke up to use the bathroom and you weren’t there,” her bottom lip jutted out like it always did when she wanted your attention.

You stifled a giggle and a coo at how adorable a 26-year-old woman could be. “I just thought I’d leave you be since I couldn’t sleep.”

Without prompting, your lover made herself comfortable on the couch and snuggled into your side. “You’re wearing my jumper.”

You continued reading with one hand while the other rested on her head, and stroking it lightly. “Yeah, found it lying around.” You placed a short kiss on her hair.

“I love this, Y/N,” she said, her words nearly unintelligible from mumbling into the fabric of your sweatshirt. “I made a Pinterest board the other day for our future home.”

“Ooh, tell me more.”

“I’d like to live in the countryside somewhere, with like a farm. It’ll be a cottage with vines all over the walls and everything, wooden kitchen set, a sunroom.”

“I can see that,” you said, “what about the city? You ever dreamed of living in New York? Paris? Hong Kong?”

“I’d feel like a fish out of water. I can barely stomach London. You’d been to all those places.”

You have, but nowhere felt like home unless you were with her. You could make a home in Antarctica if she was there with you.

“All of them are overrated anyway.” You hummed. “I like it wherever I’m with you.”

Her nose crinkled whenever you’d say cheesy stuff like that. You never knew how much those words made her heart skip a beat, as she buried her face in your neck.

“I realized as I said it,” you scrunched your face too.

“Working with Wes Anderson made you a sap now, hasn’t it?” She quite enjoyed this side of you. “It’s fine. I like it.”

Sleep found her again shortly after. In the morning, she woke with a sore back, but her heart was full, realizing she had been tangled in your arms all night.

SIX. Swan Upon Leda.

To know pain; the kind of pain that cuts through your flesh and leaves you bleeding dry. A stinging sensation that soon turns into agonizing hellfire and the knowing that there are several more spirals of hell still waiting to make you bleed. It was to witness someone who was half of your soul be in pain whilst you were powerless against the evil, and all you could do was pray that it would spare your soulmate and take you instead.

Your hand clasped around hers like iron chains, rubbing her back soothingly, as if the warmth from the back might manifest in her front and assuage the pain. She lay on the bathroom floor, her breathing slow and hard, like she was grappling with the evil that, by the looks of it, was winning. Clutching the heating pad to her stomach, her only lifeline, she curled away from you and into herself even further.

“Love, let’s move you to the bedroom where you can lay comfortably, yeah?” You asked gently.

She huffed and grunted. “Can’t move. Hurts.”

Your lover, your Lioness, Queen of Europe, falling apart by an invisible evil, immobilizing her like a wounded deer. The coldness of the tiles couldn’t have helped, but she couldn’t move.

Spare her. Give me the pain instead.

You leaned down, lowering yourself slowly to the cold, until you were flat on the floor too. Gently, you pulled her to turn to face you. Your Lioness was clenching her jaw, a vein splitting her forehead from how hard she was trying to pretend it didn’t bother her.

And it stung even more when she let out a choked sob.

Then she said with a trembling sigh, “Don’t want you to see me like this.”

Her face was stained with streaks of silent tears, a sign of the raging battle she had to endure for years finally getting the best of her. But the evil had never seen the best of her; she reserved it all for you.

“Oh, baby.” Your hand came up to cup her face, the frame that held the entire world.

It didn’t matter that your lover was curled up on the bathroom floor, she was still your bravest girl, your strongest soldier, and your fiercest Lioness.

“You’re the strongest person I know,” you said sincerely, “and I’m not leaving you, not now, not ever.”

Your lover beamed tearfully like sunshine in the rain and clung herself onto you.

Young love was the thing of fairytales. You would never claim to have it all figured out, but if what you had wasn’t love, you didn’t know the half of anything.

SEVEN. Like Real People Do.

As serious as your lover made herself out to be, she was the biggest goof on the planet the moment a drop of alcohol entered her system. Never acted out of line, never said anything that she’d regret in the morning, just the rowdiest thing that considered waving her arms in the air while wobbling back and forth dancing. It made a spectacular scene to watch, especially whenever she was with her best friend, whom you had to thank for bringing her into your life.

Even the people in her life who knew her as responsible and trustworthy would be concerned at this entirely different side to her, to which you only waved them off with a laugh, and said, “She’ll be fine.”

She would always be because she always had you to take care of her.

“Water, babe?” She knew to listen to you and chugged the whole thing in one breath.

“Come dance with me?” She offered when the DJ slowed the music.

She looked too good not to, so you took her hand and followed her to the dance floor. Once there, she wrapped her arms around your waist and pressed a kiss on your forehead. “Come closer. You smell so good.”

You laughed. “Creep.”

“This is our song,” she chuckled.

The familiar melody elicited distant memories of shy ‘hello’s and stolen glances, her best friend pushing her towards you, and her keeping your number on the phone all night until she finally gathered the courage to press on it.

It was the first song on every playlist you sent each other, like a stamp, a greeting, a confession.

It was the song that played when it was just the two of you alone after she became her country’s pride and joy.

“I remember,” you said, brushing a strand of her hair back from her blue eyes, dazed ones that looked at you like you held the world in your hands. “I thought you’d be more confident, just from seeing how you are on the pitch. It was very endearing.”

“I was nervous, okay?” She groaned, laughing quietly. “I didn’t wanna embarrass myself in front of a movie star.”

“I’m glad you asked me to dance, even though—”

“I’m shit at dancing, yeah.”

You giggled, and bumped her nose. “I feel so lucky to have you in my life.”

She was swaying you back and forth, humming to the song gently, a far cry from the first time you had asked her to dance, and she panicked and said her legs were made for football and not dancing.

“I’m still shit at dancing,” she chuckled.

“I don’t care,” you shook your head. “I still love you.”

“Even if I’ve got two left feet?”

“Mmhm.”

She grinned and kissed you, inhaling deeply. “I can feel Alex taking pictures of us—Yup, her phone is out and it’s pointing at us. Very subtle, Alex.” You laughed when you turned around to see your lover already flipping the bird at her best friend.

“We do have her to thank for getting us to meet.”

“That’s ‘cause she beat me to it first. I would have found a way to you.”

“You didn’t even know me then, babe.”

“Yeah, but I’d still find my way to you.” She was giggling because you had pulled a face. “What? It’s true.”

Leah loved deeply, and boldly. You made her feel special like she was the only person in the world. You also made her feel ordinary, like she wasn’t the face of a nation and only any other stranger walking down the street. Inside the little bubble you were both in, you were just Leah and Y/N, two people in love.

The song had come to its end, and yet she still hadn’t let you go. Three little words sat on the tip of both of your tongues. You pressed a kiss to her lips first. She kissed you back, on the lips, then on the neck softly.

I love you.

I love you.

What you didn’t know was that she planned to make you a promise of forever, with a ring hidden in a drawer waiting at home.

Simple. Sweet. Ours.

EIGHT. De Selby (Part 1).

“Lee?”

“Hm?”

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

“Mate, honestly like—“

[urno1luv]

Change of Heart 1/2

i made this little fic a few months ago... cant believe im posting this now😭😭

mean girl minjeong x reader. pretty overdone but it's too gooddd😩nothing explicit just winter falling for you

💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘

You had always been invisible to people like Minjeong.

She was the school’s queen bee, the one everyone gravitated toward, the girl whose smile could send anyone into a frenzy and whose stare could crush your confidence without a single word. You were nothing to her—just another nameless face in the halls of the school. Most of the time, you stayed out of her way, keeping your head down, avoiding eye contact, because if you looked at her for too long, you might end up the target of some cruel remark. It was easier to blend into the background.

But recently, things had changed.

At first, it was subtle—a glance, a flicker of interest that you couldn't quite place. You'd catch her eyes across the room in class, and instead of the usual cold, dismissive stare, she'd hold your gaze a moment longer, as if studying you. Sometimes, there would be a small, almost knowing smile, one that was too soft to belong to the same girl who'd humiliated you just a month ago.

Then, one day after class, she was there—waiting by your locker, arms crossed, leaning against the row of lockers as if she had all the time in the world. You froze, unsure whether to turn around and pretend you hadn’t seen her or face her directly.

She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes as she looked you over with a strange intensity. This was a different Minjeong. Without her usual entourage, her sharp features seemed more like a weapon than before, aimed directly at you.

"You're still avoiding me," she said, her voice quiet but dripping with a certain edge. "I thought you'd be smarter than that."

You shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to react. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Minjeong took a slow step toward you, her heels clicking ominously against the floor. "Don’t play dumb. I’ve been watching you, and I don’t like being ignored. You think you can just disappear in the crowd like everyone else? Not when I’m paying attention to you." Her voice dropped even lower, almost a whisper. "I’ve noticed you, and that means you don’t get to just blend in anymore."

The tension in the air was palpable. You couldn’t breathe, and for some reason, your heart raced faster with every word she said. Minjeong wasn’t threatening you—not exactly. But there was something in her tone that made you feel like there were no options for escape, no way to get out of this situation cleanly.

"I’m not interested in your games," you said quickly, trying to sound firm, even though your voice was trembling slightly.

Minjeong’s lips curled into a smirk, but it wasn’t one of amusement. It was sharper, more deliberate. “You think I’m playing games?” she murmured, stepping even closer, her body nearly pressed against yours. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just trying to figure you out. You’re different from everyone else here, and I can’t stand that. I need to know why. I need to know everything about you.”

You didn’t know how to respond. What did she want from you? Why was she suddenly so fixated on you?

Her eyes lingered on your face, unreadable, her breath just barely brushing against your skin. For a moment, you couldn’t even think straight.

“I don’t care what you think you know about me,” you stammered, your mind racing for something to say that would make her leave. “I’m not interested in being your—”

She cut you off with a soft laugh, and for a moment, you could almost feel the power shift. “You’re so desperate to push me away,” she said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “But you don’t get to do that. Not anymore.” Her voice was low, almost soothing, but the words felt like a warning. “You think I won’t notice? You think you can hide from me?” She leaned in closer, just enough so that your breath hitched in your throat. “I’ve been paying attention. And soon, you’ll realize you’re exactly where I want you to be.”

Her words hung in the air long after she finished speaking, the weight of them pressing against you. You didn’t know what was happening, but you could feel her watching you, feeling you, in a way that made every fiber of your being scream to run.

But you couldn’t. Because when Minjeong finally stepped back, her eyes didn’t leave yours. They lingered, studying you as if she was deciding whether to let you go… or keep you in her sights a little longer.

“I’ll see you around,” she said finally, but the way she said it left no doubt—she would be around. You couldn’t escape her.

And the worst part was, for some reason, you didn’t even want to??

[queenpiranhadon]

╰┈➤ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ✦ .ᐟ: Your three kids decide to surprise you and your husband on your anniversary with a show - a show starring the two people they love most in the world; their parents.

✦ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: You and Hawks are married, you have two daughters and a son, I gave them names lol, crack, fluffyyyy

✦ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Hawks/Keigo Takami x Reader

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: ✦

You and Keigo have been waiting outside the door of your bedroom, your three children very adamant about you not entering until they told you so.

It was your 15th anniversary, and though Keigo had a date planned for the both of you- your kids had other plans.

Suddenly, the door opens abruptly, and the two of you are met with your youngest daughter, Maya - the 6 year old looking up at the two of you with such an air of importance that you wondered what in the world your children were plotting this time.

"Welcome to the cinema." she says, flattening her back to the door to allow you and Keigo to step inside, ushering you to sit on the side of the bed facing the balcony before running out onto aforementioned balcony, and hiding behind the area that was obscured by the bedroom wall.

Your husband nudges you, an amused grin on his face. "It's been a while since I've seen a good show."

You chuckle, deciding to play along. "Mmm yeah, hopefully this one's good- you paid a lot of money for the tickets."

Keigo winks. "Anything for you birdie."

You smile warmly and lean against him, nuzzling your head into his shoulder as he wraps an arm around you like it's second nature.

After waiting for a few minutes, your son, Rylan pokes his head out with a grin on his face. "The show will begin shortly, I'm hope you're ready."

You chuckle and watch as your oldest retreats back to the side of the balcony, that obstructs your view, before watching your youngest daughter Yuna walk onto the "stage", with a suspiciously familiar bag in hand, just as Maya's voice is heard.

"Once upon a time there was a lady named... wait what's Mommy's not mommy name?"

"Y/N!" Rylan whispers and you stifle a giggle behind the back of your hand, Keigo's callused fingers rubbing circles on your thigh with an equally amused smirk on his face.

"Ahem, there was a lady named Y/N." Maya clears her throat and continues, as Yuna continues to parade around the balcony.

You giggle, nudging Keigo. "That's me!"

Keigo chuckles at your excitement, kissing the top of your head.

"One day, Y/N is alone in the big city...when she gets attacked by a villain!"

As Maya says this, Rylan leaps out and chases his sister around the balcony, the latter squealing as she grabs her (your) bag and starts whacking her brother's leg.

You snort, recalling the day yourself- you had been on the way back from work that day when you realized a villain was following you. The moment they got too close for comfort, you ended up smacking the life out of them with the bag you had on you.

Just then Maya runs on, looking absolutely adorable in Keigo's hero jacket, striking a pose and you almost want to take a picture.

"Don't worry baby girl, I'll save you!" She says, and your mouth drops open as you start to laugh, Keigo watches the scene, aghast.

"I did not say that!" He whispers to you and you roll your eyes.

"You most definitely did Kei." You say, and he pouts.

Yuna, aka you, delivered one last smack to Rylan, who ran off the "stage", and proceeded to give the sassiest pose, holding her bag like it was a weapon.

"Ugh, I don't need a man to save me." She says, with a disgusted tone, and now it's your turn to gape at her in shock.

"...I didn't sound like that, did I...?" you murmur feeling secondhand embarrassment, and Keigo chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Afraid so baby- now you know why it look so long to get you to fall for me." He coos and you roll your eyes, contradicting your words as you snuggle into him further.

Eventually, the show progresses, until they reach the proposal scene. Maya's on one knee while Yuna's standing in front of her.

"I love you so much baby girl while you marry me?" Maya says, hilariously trying to mimic your husband's voice.

"Even my stinky feet?" Yuna asks and Maya nods seriously.

"Love your stinky feet so much, pookieface." she says, and you giggle, Keigo groaning next to you.

"I do not call you pookieface."

You shake your head. "No, your nicknames back then were much worse."

Just as Keigo is about to protest, Yuna aka, you, squeal out a "Yes!!" and starts fake sobbing in happiness.

Now it's your turn to frown, Keigo snickering as you pinch his thigh playfully.

"I did not cry that much."

"On the contrary, love-"

"Shut up Keigo."

Watching your children reenact you and Keigo's history together was...nostalgic to say in the least. Your heart warmed at the sight of the family you have created with the man you loved, surrounded by so much love and warmth - it was perfect.

As the show ends, you snuggle against your husband, who seems to have sensed your thoughts, pressing a loving kiss into your hair and watching your kids run up to you with equally wide smiles on their faces.

If there was anything your kids inherited from you, Keigo thought, it was that gorgeous smile of yours.

Staring at your content form next to him with those soft golden eyes, Keigo knows deep down that even if he didn't swoop down to save you that night, he still would've found his way into your arms, one way or another.

A/N: Juuust some silly goofy things :)

𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @tootiecakes234 @gina239 @its-liberty-frazblair @lilyadora @callmeanythingyouwant00

@milkm4nz @lightsgore @skaiblu-e @that-one-lightskin @hahajsphaha

@abinformyobsessions @sharycatx3 @meddykip @riririr11 @ladygojooo

@abyzissupersleepy @lilaccmilk @anime2006

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (13/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, unprotected sex content, kind of hate sex too, oral sex, fingering, smut, the angst, drug dealing, violence, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He didn't know why he had taken her to Heavenly Beach that day. When he thought about it afterwards, it was clear to him that it was sheer madness, the danger he had put her in by how afraid he was.

He was terrified of what his people thought of him, terrified of how they would look at him after he had shot his own brother and fled, after Aegon had suggested that he had raped their niece, after he had declared to everyone that they were actually in a relationship.

For some reason, her words about how once they appeared there together the reasons for gossip would also end calmed him down, although not for long: as soon as they stepped inside the club he regretted his decision.

Everyone's eyes were on them, or rather on her, seeing her as his toy, his whore, his momentary entertainment, his deviation that he had given vent to. With the touch of his hand on her back and shoulders he tried to remind her of his presence, he knew, however, that he had dragged her down and that there was no turning back now.

Once they sat down, once his men looked at her, he understood what he had actually done: he had exposed her, shown her to the world as something that belonged to him, his whim, a stab in the back for Daemon.

They didn't know what she knew, didn't know him as a child, that boy she played with by the sea.

He never laughed or smiled in their presence, never let anyone touch him, and the women he fucked had the same value to him as his car or a packet of cigarettes.

That is why he knew that the sight of his niece sinking into sleep from fatigue, snuggled up against his chest, was to them merely a sign of his childish excess, as if he had stolen a precious jewel from someone's collection and was now bragging about the very fact that he possessed it.

Taking a drag on his cigarette, staring dully ahead, involuntarily stroking her back with his free hand, listening to what Cole was saying to him, he wasn't sure what was better.

As long as they didn't know how deep his feelings were, they couldn't consider her as a weapon they would be able to use against him.

On the other hand, he couldn't allow them to treat her like one of the many women he fucked in the dirty toilet between one meeting and the next; he couldn't allow them to disrespect her, or worse, mock her behind her back.

To his frustration, Floris kept staring at him, fiddling with her necklace in an apparent attempt to draw his attention to her breasts: he regretted letting her suck him off once when she found him alone in one of the private rooms, regretted that for that simple relief a few months ago he now had to feel disgusted with himself, guessing that she thought his niece was as much his lover as she was.

Bullshit.

When at last everything was settled and he ordered everyone to leave them alone, he could look at her, her calm face plunged into sleep. He shook her lightly and combed her hair with his fingers, her eyelids lifting lazily, looking up at him dreamily.

"– we'll sleep here in my office and drive back to the hotel in the morning – okay? –" He whispered, feeling that when he spoke to her he was a different person.

As if he had a split personality.

His girlfriend nodded like a small child and he took her in his arms, grabbing her under her buttocks and letting her wrap her arms around his neck, walking with her down the back of the club towards the corridor where the staff rooms and his office were.

He locked them in there, wanting to make sure no one got in, and laid her down on the couch. He watched her delicate figure in thoughtfulness as he pulled his leather jacket off his shoulders, turned off the light and covered their bodies with the material, cuddling into her from behind, his hands enclosed on her breasts.

He loved how plump and soft they were under his fingers.

"– sleep – you're safe with me –" He whispered in her ear and felt her hands clamp down on his arms, holding him close, her voice like a sigh.

"– you're my Hades – and I'm your Persephone – that's how I see us –"

He froze, shocked by her words, while at the same time feeling himself grow hot: he couldn't believe how perfect a metaphor this was for their relationship.

Like him, Hades had abducted his niece, his brother's daughter, and imprisoned her in his World of the Dead.

Like him, Hades gave his wife a new name.

Rhaenys.

"– Persephone –"

He fell asleep rather quickly, tired both mentally and physically, however his dreams did not allow him to experience much rest: he dreamt that he had kidnapped her from her mother and descended with her into a dark basement, locking her in, despite her cries and despair turning the lock, thinking she would be safe with him.

He opened his eyes, terrified, when the alarm clock on his phone woke him – he rose from his seat with her, finding the switch from the lamp in complete darkness, and ran his hand over his face, thinking that he had to find a way for her not to be his hostage or prisoner.

He wanted her to be with him and he wanted her to be safe, but not at the expense of her freedom.

But how was he supposed to accomplish that?

That he didn't know.

"– I need to get a coffee at some station –" He muttered once they were in the car, starting the engine, feeling himself falling asleep in his seat. His girlfriend agreed with him and they were both silent most of the way, immersed in their thoughts.

He wondered what could be a way out of this difficult situation, proof that he didn't care about the influence he could wield over Daemon thanks to her or about making her his slave, only that she was his friend, the confidante of his secrets, his weaknesses and his worries.

And suddenly it dawned on him.

A state wedding was out of the question, because incest was illegal, but he remembered well in history situations where religious marriages had taken place between couples like them among the aristocracy in order to secure the family's fortune, they had, however, to obtain a dispensation for it.

What if they had succeeded in doing so?

If they could marry in church, be husband and wife before God?

This thought excited him so much that he felt he didn't need any more coffee, he decided, however, that he had an excellent idea where he could ask her opinion on the subject.

All he needed was an object with which to seal their decision if her answer to his fucked-up plan turned out to be positive.

Among the lollipops and sweets standing right next to the cash register, he spotted the candy bracelets that had been very popular when they were young children. He decided it might not be a ring, but it was always something, and he had no other alternative anyway.

He thought that she, of all people in the world, would appreciate his creative ingenuity.

"– look how many lollipops you have, a whole lot to choose from – I'll buy you some if you want –" He murmured, embracing her from behind, placing a soft, warm kiss on her cheek. His niece smiled broadly, snuggling into his body with a fondness from which he grew hot.

"– strawberry –" She said, and he smiled under his breath, glancing at the cashier who was waiting for them to place their order.

"– I'll have coffee, tea, two sandwiches, this strawberry lollipop and this candy bracelet –"

As they continued on their way he followed the signs to the location of the property he had inherited from his father: the notary had given him the keys to it, and although at first he felt like just throwing them out of the window, now he was glad he kept them in his trouser pocket.

"– where are we going? – you need to turn back –" Her mumbling snapped him out of his reverie, and when he glanced at her he saw that she was pale and terrified, looking at him with big eyes exactly as she had when she had woken up in his room.

She was afraid that he had deceived her again, that he would hurt her again.

He felt pain and shame at the thought, so he shook his head quickly and grasped her hand in his, wanting to reassure her.

"– no – no, baby, easy – we'll go back to the hotel, but later – there's one place I want to visit on the way – nothing bad, I promise –" He said, squeezing her fingers in his, and she didn't say another word to him, tense until she spotted the sea shoreline.

When they got out of the car he simply watched as she moved ahead of him, pulling off her shoes to sink her feet into the sand. He felt a tightness in his throat seeing her silhouette against the rising sun, thinking with regret that he had lost so many years in which he had dreamed of this moment, of them explaining everything to each other, of them talking calmly, of them being supportive of each other again.

He realised that because of her, and only because of her, that part of him from eight years ago had been preserved in his heart, the little boy locked in one of the white shells she had collected then, his hopeless attempt to prove to himself that he would see her again one day.

He moved behind her lazily, feeling the tears burning under his eyelids, the crisp sea breeze filling his lungs wonderfully – he tilted his head back, feeling strangely calm and free at the thought of what he wanted to do.

He was no longer pretending, either to himself or to her.

The way his arms embraced her from behind, the way his nose sank into her soft cheek, looking ahead at the infinite horizon, seemed so startlingly natural to him that it was even painful, the realisation that for years he had been running from this, from her, from what they could have.

"– in my fantasies, I always imagined that I would take you here again – that I would be standing with you, as I am now, watching the sun rise –" He said, smiling, letting a single tear of sadness run down his cheek, a sign of how tired and scared he was, how two parts of him were breaking him in half, unable to form one whole.

How can one destroy and create at the same time?

How can you create a healthy, happy, peaceful relationship in an environment where everything is toxic, where everyone is unhappy, where there is perpetual tension and anticipation of the next blow?

"– have you often thought about what we have lost here? –" He heard her soft, quiet voice and swallowed hard, returning his thoughts to her again, to the loud sound of the waves and the squeaking of the seagulls over their heads.

Did he often think of that?

His figure huddled in his bed, the pain in his skull after surgery so excruciating that he could only lie down and cry. The thought that he would have to wear an artificial eye, that he would have a scar on his face, that he would be disgusting made him feel like dying. He longed for her to be by his side, his friend who would know what to say, or not say anything at all but hug him, lock him in the warm embrace of her arms, letting him calm down.

His head lowered as he walked down the corridor of his school, feeling the stares of others on him, his desire to disappear, to blend into the background, to not exist. He thought that if she had been by his side, if she had chatted him up as usual, comforted him with her cheerful laughter, if she had distracted him, maybe he would have felt better, at least for a moment.

His naked body as he lay on the couch in one of the staff rooms after telling the girl he'd just banged to get the fuck out of his club, tears running down his face one after another even though his lips were clamped into a thin line. She had similar hair, similar eyes, similar figure, but her voice was different, her smell was different, her touch was different, so frustratingly foreign, unwanted, disgusting.

He looked down at her hands, his thumb running over her wrist along her scar that reminded him every day of what he had done to her.

To his friend.

"– relentlessly - it was like torture – thinking of hundreds of scenarios – what would have happened if I hadn't been your uncle, if my father hadn't been submerged in all that shit, if I hadn't lost an eye then, if Rhaenyra hadn't taken you away from there that day –" He said with a grief so deep that he felt a sting in his stomach, as if someone had stuck the tip of a knife there.

She looked at him, in her eyes everything he had always wanted: tenderness, care, comfort, affection. He leaned in and kissed her forehead, her wonderful, familiar scent filling his lungs, causing his heart to beat harder in his chest in delight.

"– I took you from your mother – I forced you to sink into the darkness with me –" He whispered, not knowing how to apologise to her for what he had indirectly forced her to do, what he had condemned her to by not being able to forget her.

"– it was my choice this time –" She said calmly, and he froze, looking at her in disbelief.

There was not a shadow of regret, shame, pain, sadness in her voice and gaze.

It suddenly occurred to him that the reason he loved her so much was that she was always able to understand him, to see behind the curtain of his words their meaning, his hidden signals that he could not otherwise make out.

He never had to pretend to be anyone in front of her, because there was no need for it: he knew that she would never humiliate him or make him sad just to hurt him.

She was full of values he cherished.

She made it so that while he was a monster he never stopped being human.

"– I want to be the father of your children – I want us to be a family – to have a home – a future –" He said in a trembling voice and knelt down slowly feeling his heart pounding like mad, thinking with fear that she would call him stupid and irresponsible, that she would refuse having every right to do so.

"– Aemond, what are you –" She uttered, but he interrupted her, afraid of what she wanted to say.

His intentions were pure, driven only by his desire that they could be together forever.

"– I want it, Rhaenys – fuck, I've always wanted it – I don't give a shit about this country, about the law, about morality, about good manners, about how and why we're related –" He mouthed with difficulty, feeling himself whooping, tears of desperation and fear welled up in his eyelids.

He felt small, he felt pathetic, he felt vulnerable, but he knew that she would never use that to harm him, that he could be that way with her, that she was his refuge, his haven.

"– but if I pay the right people, if we get a dispensation, we can have a religious marriage, the one in the church – I don't give a damn if I have to bribe the Pope himself and all the cardinals in the Vatican, I don't care how long it takes – please –" He gasped, clasping his fingers around her waist, snuggling his face into her belly, afraid to look into her eyes, afraid of what he would see there, like a child wanting to escape the consequences of his act if it turned out that she wasn't ready for it.

After all, they had only been together a month after eight years of separation.

What did they know about each other?

Could she really understand what kind of life she would face at his side?

"– yes –"

He looked at her feeling a powerful shiver pass down his spine, his mouth wide open in a heavy breath.

Yes.

No questions, no conditions, no assumptions.

Yes.

"– do you mean it? –" He muttered, shocked, and she nodded, her cheeks red with shame.

"– we've completely lost our minds –" She mumbled, and he stood up quickly, feeling euphoria and joy begin to bubble through his veins, reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket.

She laughed warmly, watching as he clumsily placed a bracelet consisting of coloured candies on her wrist.

"– what? – they didn't have rings – I had a difficult task –" He muttered, pulling her close, her body bumping against his.

Her sweet face was full of hope and desire, tenderness and trust, everything he had so longed to see since he had seen her then, on that pier.

What happened next, the time spent in his house, the lazy, sticky sex in his bed, the exact one they had slept in together when they were children seemed to him to be just a dream.

He was sure he was about to wake up, to receive a phone call from his grandfather telling him that another person had not paid on time and should be admonished.

However, neither Rhaenyra's intervention, nor later his mother's, nor their family's displeasure in general, changed the fact that they had moved in together.

For exactly this reason, he doubled all security: his men guarded his flat day and night, even more so when he had to go out to do his business and she was left alone.

As he suspected, the usual thing of moving out was not free from drama: he and his niece had to go to her family home to get her things, because Daemon would not give permission for his men to go inside.

"So I'll go in there, Dad. I'll take book by book, and they'll be waiting here."

Daemon looked at her with rage, followed by Jace, Luke and Rhaenyra trying to reason with her daughter.

"What are you doing? Have you both completely lost your minds?" She asked in despair, but it seemed to him that neither he nor his niece was any longer impressed.

"These are my things. After all, I'm alive, I'm fine. I'm tired, I just want it all to be over now."

When her things were finally moved to his flat, as he had promised, his existing gym became her room, to which only she had a key: he wanted her to feel that she had a place to escape to when she didn't want to be with him, knowing that he wouldn't invade her space.

He hoped it would never come to that, but he wanted her to feel that she had an alternative, that being with him didn't mean living the way he would expect of her at the same time.

To his astonishment, their life when it was just the two of them was surprisingly peaceful.

They didn't argue – not like he was used to – her requests or opinions opposing him didn't provoke his aggression, because she was never aggressive towards him either.

He had always admired in her this combination of empathy and assertiveness, the simultaneous ability to understand him and to be mindful of her own needs and demands, which he tried to meet.

According to their agreement, in his absence she could go out wherever she wanted, but she had to be driven and brought back by his bodyguard: he wanted to be sure that no one would try to harm her or kidnap her to bargain with him.

Exactly as he had done when they wanted to teach Daemon a lesson.

She could only go out alone on walks with Vhagar – his dog quickly got used to her presence and became protective of her, so he knew that if anyone came near his fiancée, he would probably lose an arm or a leg.

However, nothing frightened him more than calls from her.

He always felt a rush of adrenaline and fear then, convinced that something had happened.

"What is it?" He asked as soon as he stepped out into the corridor, her quiet, slightly sleepy voice answering him on the other side a moment later.

"I woke up and you weren't in bed."

He swallowed hard, thinking with regret that he just didn't want to wake her.

There was nothing more difficult for him than to get out of her warm, safe embrace at night after a phone call that something had happened, that things needed to be explained to someone again, by persuasion or violence.

"I know. I'm sorry, baby. I didn't want to wake you up. I have to stay here for at least another hour."

"Why?"

He closed his eyes, on the one hand feeling impatient, on the other knowing perfectly well that he would go mad if he were in her place.

He had promised to tell her everything.

"I have a problem with one man. We are clarifying things, but he is…reluctant. He has taken a lot of money from me, but he has not given me what I need. I have to go. One more hour and I'll be back, I promise." He whispered, feeling a squeeze in his heart at the thought that it was no answer, that it sounded awful and pathetic, that she shouldn't have to hear it.

And yet.

"Oh. Okay." She muttered, and for some reason he felt tears under his eyelids and hung up, wondering what he was really condemning her to.

It wasn't until the blade of his pocket knife was pressed against his eye that the man by whom he had to leave his fiancée in a cold bed regained his sanity and told them where he kept the goods.

His men went there and indeed, the bags stuffed to the brim with cocaine satisfied his needs, at least for a while.

He could go home.

When he went inside he saw that the television was on in the living room: he took a few steps inside, terrified, and breathed out only when he saw her figure plunged into a deep sleep, lying on the sofa with the remote control in her hand, her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted in a quiet breath.

She was waiting for him.

She waited for him to return.

He glanced at his watch and closed his eyelids, seeing that he had not kept his word.

Although he had promised it would take him an hour, it took him three.

He sighed quietly, pulling off his shoes, putting them on the floor so as not to make any noise, and walked over to her: Vhagar lying by the couch only purred something and flicked her tail at the sight of him, sleeping on, he, however, leaned over his girl's figure, gently taking her in his arms, heading with her to their bedroom.

She shuddered and looked up at him with big eyes, terrified that someone had touched her, his lips placing a quick, apologetic, warm kiss on her forehead.

"– easy – it's just me, little one –" He whispered tenderly, looking into her eyes, laying down on the bed with her.

"– you promised –" She mumbled regretfully.

His eyebrows arched in pain at her words, his broad hand stroking her soft, warm cheek.

"– I know, baby – I know – I'm here now –"

Although he knew he should just embrace her and let her sleep, something in him wouldn't let him do that: his hands pulled his Tshirt, one of the many she liked to sleep in, from her body. She grunted in displeasure, tired and sleepy, when he did the same with her panties and his own clothes, leaning over her, completely naked.

His lips placed a soft kiss on her sternum, sliding down between her breasts, to her belly and lower abdomen, down to the soft skin of her silken womanhood. She sighed and shuddered as he took her hips in his hands and spread her legs apart, letting his face sink into her soft, warm folds, smelling of shower gel and her own arousal.

"– ah –" She gasped, writhing in front of him as the tip of his tongue ran over her hard, swollen bud, and then again and again, his thumb finding her throbbing entrance, already moist and eager, merely teasing her.

"– shhh –" He hushed her, moving his face lower, clinging with his lips to her dripping slit, kissing her as if he were kissing her lips, sliding a piece of his tongue into her once in a while, barely taunting her with small, cat-like licks, each time rubbing the sweet spot inside her fleshy muscles.

"– Aemond –" She sighed, throwing her head back, her hips beginning to roll back and forth, her fingers clenching in his short hair, always, always wanting more.

"– sleep – sleep, my sweetest –" He whispered, sliding his tongue deeper and deeper between her hot, clenching walls, digging his fingers into the soft skin of her buttocks, sinking his whole face into her weeping cunt.

Her breath became heavy and hitched, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her wetness running down his chin as he defiantly, confidently and aggressively licked her with the loud clicks of his own saliva, building her way to pleasure.

"– a-ah – uncle – mghmmm – more, more, more –" She begged so sweetly, so innocently, so sincerely, that he quickened his pace, pressing his thumb against her swollen, hot clit, letting her reach her peak on his face. She cried out loudly as if he had caused her pain when she came hard, whimpering and wailing, rubbing her hips against his nose and lips.

He stood up, wiping his face and chin with his palm, rising up on his elbow, forcing her thighs to spread wider with the motion of his knee.

She moaned with exertion as the thick, throbbing head of his cock, pulsing with desire, pushed against her oversensitive entrance, still twitching from her orgasm, now even more delicate, and he forced his way deep into her slick pussy with one brutal thrust.

Tears flowed down her beautiful red face as he imposed a fast, aggressive pace on her at once, their hips all sticky with her moisture, pounding against each other with loud, perverted slaps.

"– what a fucking mess you are – and then your uncle always has to clean up after you – your cunt is leaking like a tap –" He exhaled, looking her straight in the face, fucking her in the most straightforward way he could imagine, opening her up with sharp, sure pushes of his hips.

He clamped one of his hands on her breasts, seeing them bounce before his eyes, her eyebrows arched in indecision, from her puffy lips parted wide as usual came the sweetest sounds his ears had ever heard.

"– mghm – A-Aemond – God – please, yes, right here –" She babbled, no doubt already thinking more with her convulsively twitching cunt than with her mind, her tight walls clenching around his hard erection, making him feel the familiar squeeze in his testicles, indicating that his release was about to come.

"– it's okay – it's okay, baby – you will cum for your uncle now, hm? – yes, thaaat's it – that's my girl – fuck –" He breathed out as her little pussy gave him another few squeezes, from which he simply came, moaning and panting loudly along with her, their naked bodies hot and sweaty from the exertion.

His body fell on top of hers and they continued like that for a while, focusing on the way their bodies pulsed against each other, the way they felt each other.

The way they were one.

"This is my safest place on earth. My haven. Right. Here." He whispered in her ear, rolling his hips so that he sank his half-soft manhood deeper into her.

She sighed at his words, embracing him tenderly, as was her custom stroking his hair and back as if he were a small child.

He loved her for doing this.

He loved her for knowing he needed it, even though he never told her about it.

"When you are not there, I feel emptiness. I'm only complete when you're inside me." She hummed, and he felt his manhood pulsate hard inside her at her words.

"Stop it if you want to go to sleep. Don't provoke me." He threatened and she giggled, placing a kiss on his temple, making him smile himself.

This, their nights together, their tender embrace was the peak of his dreams.

He could survive and endure anything knowing that at the end of the day he would fall asleep in her arms between her plump, sweet breasts.

Until one day his grandfather appeared on their doorstep.

When he opened the door and saw him, at first he didn't know how to act and remained silent, petrified.

"Who's that?" He heard her soft voice and heard her look out into the corridor, her sigh of dismay letting him know she was thinking the same thing as him.

His grandfather was smiling.

"I come in peace. To talk." He said softly, and he swallowed hard, looking at her over his shoulder.

He could see in the expression on her face that she was terrified, but he decided he preferred to find out what his grandfather was up to in order to be ready for what might come.

"Give us a minute. All right?" He asked, and she pressed her lips together. She nodded and went to her room without another word, closing the door behind her.

He sighed heavily and let him in, stepping deeper into the flat, his grandfather moving behind him with a light, unhurried step.

"I see there's been a little rearranging here. I'm impressed that you haven't gotten bored with your little toy yet. Are you playing house now?" Otto asked casually, casting him a look full of curiosity from above his raised eyebrows.

He looked at him indifferently, pouring himself a glass of water and remained silent, recognising that he would not be provoked.

"Tell me what you're coming with or leave. We were just about to make dinner." He said coldly, taking a loud sip from his glass.

He should have offered him something to drink out of sheer politeness, but decided he didn't give a shit.

They measured each other's eyes for a moment, and after a while Otto sighed, sitting down on the couch, spreading himself out comfortably.

"I want you to come back. On your terms. After your… argument, Aegon wishes to step back, to return to his old duties. Naturally, you will take his place. We are family, Aemond." He said, and he looked at him with a grin, feeling a wild satisfaction at the thought that exactly what he thought had happened.

The roles had changed.

Now it was he who had come to beg him like a dog.

He knew his grandfather needed him to stand up to Daemon, but he didn't know if the advantage over him would be to his liking since he was to marry his daughter.

Escalation was not welcomed by her, and he could not complain about how much he earned or the places that sustained him and his men.

He was frugal and invested his money properly, refurbishing venues, hiring marketers, buying the best goods, attracting people with the thickest wallets to his clubs.

"I watched from the sidelines what you were doing." Continued his grandfather, seeing that he had no intention of answering his appeal. "And I'm impressed. I still think the Larys case was a mistake, but I understand you: I was young and in love too. I treated you inappropriately, it's true, but enough of this insulting. If we join forces, we will conquer the whole city. We…"

"No."

Otto blinked and laughed, as if something in his words amused him.

"No, what? You despise money and influence?" He sneered.

"I have enough of them. I'm not complaining about my standard of living. On the contrary. I am content." He said with emphasis on the last sentence, drinking his water to the end, setting the glass down on the table top with a loud clink. "Is that all?"

"Is it because of her? Can't you see that she's protecting Daemon, that she'll do anything to keep you from being a threat to him? It's obvious, because she's his daughter, never mind that not a biological one. She's weakening you, and your people can see that and will use it against you." He said coldly, making him clench his jaw with rage.

"I advise you now to watch your words and what you say next." He said slowly, looking him straight in the eye.

Otto shook his head and laughed.

"You are a fool. Men like you or me can have wives and whores, but they can't love them, because that's how we make living targets out of these people."

"You didn't love my grandmother?" He growled, furious at his hypocrisy, knowing that he had never bonded with any other woman after her death, spending his life reminiscing about her.

His grandfather fell silent for a moment, something changed in his gaze.

"I did. I saw her one day in a café and thought she would be my wife. I was younger than you then. She ran away from me for a long time, but I was patient and full of sincere affection. And she finally gave in to me. Five years after our marriage, she overdosed on sleeping pills. I didn't notice when she stopped coping with what I was doing. She was always cheerful around me, but I didn't know what happened to her when I was away at night. When she woke up in an empty bed."

He stared at him dully, feeling his heart pounding in his chest like mad, his hands lying on the tabletop clenched into fists, cold sweat running down his back.

Five years after we were married, she overdosed on sleeping pills.

I didn't notice when she stopped coping.

His grandfather grinned with satisfaction seeing the look on his face.

"Do you think I'm saying all this to annoy you? That I don't desire your happiness? That I don't understand that you love and want to be loved? You are my grandson. Let her go while it's not too late. I know that…"

"No." He said, but it seemed to him that it wasn't his mind that made the word leave his mouth, but his subconscious, a little boy from eight years ago who was terrified of what he was hearing. "I tried. I can't. It's too late. Don't come here again."

"You should spare her that and learn from the mistakes of people older than yourself. It's easy to mistake selfishness for love, even more so when we love ourselves the most." Said Otto getting up from the couch but froze when he heard his voice.

"I don't love myself. I abhor myself." He said dispassionately.

His grandfather looked at him for a moment longer, then turned and headed towards the entrance door.

"We shall see."

As soon as he left, he felt a sudden surge of desire to drink alcohol, so he grabbed a bottle of whisky standing in one of the cupboards, pouring it into a glass for himself with his hand shaking with nerves.

I didn't notice when she stopped coping.

I didn't know what happened to her when I was away at night.

When she woke up in an empty bed.

He drank the entire contents in quick, deep sips and set the glass down on the countertop, trying to calm himself down.

He wasn't like him.

He shuddered as he heard the sound of the door opening again and her footsteps, after a moment feeling her presence behind his back.

"What did he want?" She asked, her tone of voice betraying that she was frustrated and at the same time horrified by his grandfather's visit.

The fact that he was trying to regain the influence he had over him.

"That I should come back. I didn't agree." He replied matter-of-factly, pouring whiskey into his glass once more, watching with blank eyes as it filled with golden liquid.

"Aemond. What happened?" She mumbled, stepping closer to him and touched his shoulder, making him tense all over.

"Are you deaf?" He asked coldly, looking at her in a way that made her eyes grow big.

He swallowed hard, feeling a sting in his heart seeing the way her eyebrows arched in pain.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the countertop when he heard her footsteps, that she had locked herself in her room, letting him know that she didn't want to see him.

He ran his hand over his face, feeling remorseful, thinking that he needed to rest and calm down after what he had heard, that once everything was settled in his head he would go to her and apologise to her for those unpleasant words.

He took a nap on the couch, not wanting to go to bed where he knew she wouldn't be. He was only awakened by the squirming of Vhagar, who poked him with her wet nose, apparently wanting to go for a walk to take care of her needs.

When he got up and glanced at his watch he saw that he had slept for two hours, but he did not feel rested at all – on the contrary, he was even more frustrated, sad and lonely.

He thought he would apologise to her, explain everything, take a walk with her and Vhagar and spend the evening watching some history TV programme.

He went to the door of her room and knocked quietly, but heard no movement on the other side.

"– baby, I'm sorry – he brought me out of balance and I took it out on you – I shouldn't have done that – it's a hard subject for me – will you join me and Vhagar for a walk? –" He asked loud enough for her to hear him.

For a long moment he got no reply and was frightened that perhaps something had happened.

Five years after we were married, she overdosed on sleeping pills.

"– I'm reading a book – I'd rather stay home –" He heard her calm voice devoid of any emotion and swallowed hard, looking down at his fingers in embarrassment.

He felt a twinge in his stomach, feeling that she had rejected him, that she was punishing him, that she didn't want him.

"– okay – we'll be back soon –" He said, but she didn't answer him again.

He hoped she would eventually leave the room on her own: when they returned with Vhagar he made dinner – her favourite casserole – and then went to ask her if she would eat with him.

"– no, thank you – I'm not hungry –"

He stood outside her door feeling his heart pounding like mad in panic.

"– are you angry with me? –"

Silence.

"– shall we watch something on TV? – I'll stroke your head afterwards before bed, just the way you like it – I'm sorry –" He mumbled out like a small child, feeling his whole body tremble in fear.

Silence.

"– I think I'd rather spend the evening here – if that's okay –" He heard her quiet, breaking voice and closed his eyes, pressing his lips together, the stinging tears under his eyelids seemed to burn him.

"– oh – okay – I'll be next door if you need me –"

She, however, did not come out to him, he was called instead by Criston Cole, who said that there had been an unpleasant incident at one of his clubs.

"Come as soon as possible. Lannister's men shot and killed a police officer who was working with us. He was our assurance that the cops wouldn't interfere with deals that are happening in two weeks. It's getting dangerous. We need to talk things through."

He hung up and hid his face in his hands, thinking that every time he thought he had it all under control, that he was holding his life together, it all fell apart in his fingers like dust.

He got up from the couch, grabbing his leather jacket and put on his shoes, glancing towards the door of her room.

"I have to go out. I don't know when I'll be back." He said aloud and flinched as he heard movement on the other side, her footsteps and then the sound of the lock being turned.

She looked out at him from behind the door with eyes red from tears, a look of horror on her face from which he felt a squeeze in his throat.

"– why? –" She asked in a breaking voice and he swallowed with difficulty, feeling the need to embrace her, to stay with her, to stroke her hair and her back, to kiss her soft face whispering to her how much he loved her.

"– the policeman who was helping us was shot – Tyland is taking revenge for what I did to him – the consequences of my actions are slowly reaching me –" He muttered, looking at her dully, feeling strangely small and weak, tired, as if he was about to fall to his knees.

"Take me with you." She whispered, looking into his eyes in a way that made him feel hot in his chest, her gaze warm and full of feeling that made him want to cry.

I didn't notice when she stopped coping.

"No. I can't. I won't make the same mistake again. The more they are aware that you are not my temporary whim, the more danger I put you in."

"Then treat me like your whore in front of them."

He looked at her with big eyes, feeling the discomfort in his stomach at her words, the cold sweat on his back.

"What did you say?" He asked, unsure if she knew what had just left her lips.

She, however, seemed strangely calm and sure, which made him feel even worse.

"Treat me as if you're bored with me. As if you hold me close just because I am Daemon's daughter. Be cold and chilly. You can hit me if you want."

"What?" He asked in pain, feeling like something was about to explode inside him. "Do you want me to do it so you can find the strength to leave me? Reassure yourself of how fucked up I am?"

"I don't want to stay here alone, wondering if you're still alive. The fear I feel then no lamp can light up." She mouthed, tears one by one rolling down her red cheeks.

He felt torn and his heart was breaking: he knew that the matter was urgent and that he should already be on his way, but on the other hand, how could he leave her like this, terrified and broken for so many hours, deaf to her pleas and needs?

What was he supposed to do?

Take her with him, continue to expose her, subject her to perpetual judgement and criticism?

Leave her, make her withdraw into herself, sink into her fear and make her his prisoner?

"– I don't know, baby – God, I have to go – I –"

"– give me five minutes –" She said and disappeared behind the door, opening her wardrobe, and he just stood there, wondering if he should leave or not, lock her up, understand that if she was going to be safe, he had to do certain things against her will.

The golden cage.

Not even a second had passed from his thoughts when he opened the front door and stepped out, closing it quickly with a lock he knew she hadn't yet made a key for, and which couldn't be opened from the inside.

He swallowed hard, feeling tears of shame under his eyelids as he heard her run to the door, her fists pounding on it on the other side, her squeal full of despair.

"– NO – NO, NO, NO, AEMOND, DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE – TAKE ME WITH YOU, PLEASE, DON'T LEAVE ME –"

He clenched his eyelids and ran down the stairs, feeling the hot tears of despair one by one run down his cheeks, the echo of her crying spreading around making him feel like dying.

He couldn't take her there.

He couldn't put her at risk.

He had no choice.

He felt himself shaking all over as he got into the car, not knowing what state he would find her in when he returned or what would happen to them next.

How was he supposed to keep her safe and free at the same time?

He closed his eyes, firing up the engine and set off ahead, not daring to look at the windows for fear he would see her weeping face there.

He drove amidst the lights and darkness of the city in complete silence, thinking that, contrary to what he thought, he was a monster, some deformed creature, a black, viscous mass, but not human.

He finally reached one of the restaurants where he met his people when the situation was out of control. Above the dining area were hotel rooms that also belonged to them, and in one of them they were all already waiting for him.

He swallowed hard when, crossing the threshold of the room, he spotted Alys spread out comfortably on a couch among several men and other women.

"How are things with the police?" He asked hesitantly, glancing at Criston, sitting down in the empty armchair opposite them.

"They're furious. They don't care who did it: they know it's the mafia and they're going to try to fuck everyone up. The deals are over. The cop is dead, so all hell is going to break loose." Said Harrold Wrestling, one of his father's most trusted men.

He pressed his lips together at his words, sighing heavily, and ran his hand over his face.

"Keep the goods safe for the next few months and don't sell them. Prepare the proper contracts, everything has to be clean. If the Inland Revenue comes with an inspection, they are not to find even one inaccuracy in the papers. Do you understand?" He asked roughly, meeting Cole's gaze.

"What about the takeover of the goods that was supposed to take place in two weeks' time? How will it pass customs inspection now? That policeman was supposed to make sure his men were on shift then." Said Criston watching as he lit a cigarette and took a drag, letting the smoke out through his nose after a moment.

"Get in touch with them. Tell the truth – they have to wait, they have to reschedule. I don't think it would suit them for our police to take an interest in their business." He said lowly, trying to look anywhere but at Alys, feeling her gaze on him.

He knew she would want to torment him, to ask him about her, about what she was like, how desperate he must have been to announce to all that she was his.

Her crying, her fists pounding on the door.

Please, don't leave me alone.

He swallowed hard, only realising after a moment that Borros Baratheon had said something to him.

"…we have only the remnants of our supplies. We can barely hold out for a week. How…"

"Am I not making myself clear? I said: no drug dealing as long as the police keep an eye on us. Nothing. You'll make it up to yourselves later." He hissed, frustrated, slapping his finger on his cigarette, causing the ash from it to fall into someone's empty whiskey glass.

"Do you know what a huge financial loss this will be for us, boy?" He asked enraged.

"We have to wait it out like a storm. The Lannisters want us to react impulsively and get scared. We must show strength and composure. Prepare for what's coming. If they want to arrest someone, let them. No standing up, no shooting, no violence. We have our lawyers, our accountants and most importantly, we have the money." He said, amazed to find that he was confident in what he was doing, feeling no fear or uncertainty.

"What about Tyland? Will you leave his provocation unanswered?" Alys asked, looking into his eyes, her bright irises seeming to sparkle uneasily, something in her gaze from which he felt discomfort.

"I'll take care of him myself." He replied coolly, looking away, feeling that she was able to read his thoughts, all his doubts and what he was experiencing within himself.

"Your last warning didn't work on him. On the contrary, he declared war on you. How do you respond to that?" Alys didn't let up, not lowering her gaze for a moment, the grin on her lips told him what she was doing.

She was teasing him.

She was trying to corner him, to force him to show his niece who he really was.

A monster.

"An eye for an eye." He said, complete silence all around him. "Is everything clear? If the police turn up at the premises you manage, don't panic. Prepare so that even if they take your laptops or phones they won't find anything on them. Make no mistake. You have my complete financial and legal support. I will get you out of any shit, but stick to the plan. Do you understand?"

The men and women around him nodded their heads.

"That's it." He said dispassionately and stood up, leaving the room filled with utter silence.

Did they believe he would succeed or did they regret their decision?

The fact that they had betrayed his grandfather.

He had to prove to them that he was strong.

That he would not allow himself to be manipulated.

When he walked into his flat at last, it was completely dark and silent. He swallowed hard when he heard Vhagar's steps coming out of her room to greet him and realised that his niece had left the door open.

He could step inside.

He quietly pulled off his shoes and jacket, walking in that direction, stroking the soft fur of his dog along the way – when he looked inside, he saw her silhouette lying on her bed, her eyes open, staring at him, large and sad, her eyelids and cheeks swollen from tears.

He felt, above all, shame, but also a strong need for her to understand that he had no choice and that he could not have acted differently.

He moved slowly towards her, after a moment being already at her bedside – when he leaned down to touch her, to stroke her cheek and kiss her, she raised herself on her elbow and pushed him away.

"– no –" She blurted out, fury and regret in her words and her gaze, her brow wrinkled in anger.

She gasped when, instead of complying with her request, he climbed onto the bed, placing his knees on either side of her body, her hands tried to push him away, but he grabbed her wrists, pressing her back against the mattress.

"– no – no, get off me – I hate you – I hate you –" She panted, breathing hard, tears one by one running down the side of her face onto the pillow under her head.

His erection swelled and ached as he pressed it between her thighs, rocking his hips back and forth, and she cried out, trying in some subconscious reflex not to open her legs to him.

One of his hands grasped her wrists and lifted them safely above her head, while the other cupped her cheeks, forcing her to look at him.

"– no –" She breathed out before he clung to her in a hot, wet kiss full of his saliva. He hissed and pulled away a little, simultaneously furious and aroused when she dug her teeth into his lower lip, the bitter taste of blood melting on his tongue.

He repeated the attempt, this time literally eating her lips with his own, feeling the wonderful pain in his cock, in his mouth, in his heart, wanting to experience the satisfaction that only she could give him. Her body, though writhing and quivering in despair yielded to him as his free hand slid down her hips, finding the space between her thighs.

She shuddered as his fingers began to wander tentatively over the material of her panties, a grimace of satisfaction flashed across his face as he felt that it was soaked through. She drew in a loud breath when, encouraged by this discovery, he pushed it aside and sank his fingertips into her silky, soft cunt.

"– you are leaking –" He murmured with delight into her throat, feeling her stop resisting him, and when his hand let go of her wrists, she immediately threw her arms around his neck.

"– you left me –" She mewled into my mouth, their lips petting and teasing each other, the tips of their tongues coming out to meet each other with lazy, lewd licks.

"– I'm back – I'm here, baby – you can let go now –" He whispered, slowly but surely penetrating her tight, throbbing slit with his finger, feeling that his manhood was about to explode in his trousers, ready to possess her, to fuck her, to make love to her.

She threw her head back with a girlish, sweet moan, exactly the way he loved it, involuntarily bucking her hips to the rhythm of his hand, her breath shaky and hitched, full of desire.

"– God, n-no –"

"– being with me, you won't know freedom – I'm not in a position to choose between that and your safety – if that's what you want, I'll let you leave – but make love to me one last time –" He whispered, joining his first finger with his second, pumping and hitting her sweet spot each time, his palm all sticky from her wetness dripping down her thighs, her muscles swollen and yawning with heat.

Her lips parted in shock at his words, the heavy tears that ran down his cheeks one by one began to drip down her face. Her fingers slipped into his hair and their lips came out against each other at the same time, catching each other in a helpless, pathetic, passionate kiss full of their sighs and their tongues, his hands sliding down to the belt of his trousers, undoing it quickly.

"– I love you – I love you, I love you, I love you –" He panted, releasing his swollen, hard erection, watching as she quickly slid her panties off her legs, with the tips of her fingers directing the fat head of his cock, leaking from his precum, into her little hole.

He opened her wide with an almost animalistic groan, thrusting into her almost immediately as if tomorrow would never come. He watched her face flooded with tears, her eyebrows twisted in a grimace of pain and pleasure, running his thumb over her cheek and lower lip, sinking into her warm, familiar flesh, feeling at peace, at home.

He sighed when she drew him close, when she clamped her fingers around his neck and forced their foreheads to press together – he seemed to smile at this gesture before they kissed again, at once like a pair of children and lovers, seeking comfort in the wonderful softness of their lips.

The pace of his hips was slow and lazy, the loud clicks of her pussy each time he sank into her fleshy core sent them into a state of ecstasy, drawing purrs and gasps of delight from their throats.

His free hand stroked her cheek, while the other slid lower, between her thighs, finding her small, swollen clit after a moment. She moaned and shuddered as if a bolt of lightning had passed through her, her hungry walls clenching against his cock aching with desire, forcing him to open her up for himself with surer, sharper pumps.

"– yes –" She whimpered into his mouth, answered by his hoarse groan, her legs crossed over his back, allowing him to finally sink into her completely, become one with her, pounding into her slick pussy with the sticky splats of their hips.

"– f-fuck, baby – oh, God, yes –" He panted into her mouth, again and again sliding his tongue deep between her teeth, all the way down her throat, in some natural, primitive reflex as a man wanting to fill her with all of himself, leaving her no room for anyone else.

A wonderful heat rippled through his lower abdomen, the tension in his testicles and in his throbbing length showing that he was nearing his fulfilment.

He breathed out loud when he heard her cry as her small, leaking cunt began to clench and pulsate against his hard manhood. When his wonderful release came at last he clamped his eyelids shut, panting hard, letting her spasming cunt suck his seed deep inside her.

He lay on top of her with his eyes closed, their arms embracing each other involuntarily, lingering in the stillness, focusing only on the quivering of their bodies, on how intimate and private the experience was, him, deep inside her.

"– my sweet baby girl – my little sunshine –" He whispered, and she swallowed hard, her cheeks hot and wet from her sweat and tears. He pressed his lips into a thin line, letting his tears join hers, letting his breath become heavy and hitched as well, their hands trailing over their bodies trying to give them comfort.

"– my grandfather – what he told me –" He whispered in her ear and she froze. "– he said that you wouldn't be able to bear this life, just like my grandmother – that you would commit suicide too – and I don't want to live in a world where you won't be there, even if you are no longer by my side –"

He cried out of helplessness, huddling in her silhouette like a small, frightened boy, because he felt lost and alone, because all he wanted was to love and be loved, because he was doing everything to make their lives good, but it wasn't enough.

He only calmed down when her gentle hand began to stroke his hair and his back, when her cheek pressed against the top of his head.

Neither of them said anything else.

He was afraid of what she might do, of the fact that she might really leave him, so his fingers clenched tighter on her body, pressing her against him, wanting only for her to stay in his embrace.

They spent the night on the bed in her room, cramped and less comfortable than the one in his bedroom, but there was something about it that reminded him of their childhood. He embraced her from behind, burying his face in the crook of her neck, placing his hands on her waist, feeling her fingers entwine with his.

And then the morning came.

When he woke up, the first thought that came to his mind was that he was cold and feeling anxious. He only understood why he felt this way when he opened his eyes and realised that she was not beside him.

He pulled himself up from his seat, feeling his heart in his throat, despair and panic guiding his steps.

Her things were still there, but she wasn't.

She couldn't take them if she wanted to escape and not wake him.

He sat on the couch in the living room, leaned over and burst out sobbing like a little boy, clenching his fingers in his hair, the pain he felt in his chest and stomach like he was having a heart attack. He drew in air with difficulty and clenched his eyes shut, whooping with his own tears.

She left.