#they will both claim the other Started it

[moonstruckme]

Oh my god congrats on 7k!!! So so SO deserved in every way imaginable

Could I request apple pie prompt #28: dark lipstick smeared on a cheek with Sirius???

Thank you lovely!!

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 731 words

It’s embarrassing, how much time you spend in front of the mirror before Sirius arrives. You fix and fiddle until you’re nearly unrecognizable to yourself, until your face is a word you’ve said too many times and it’s lost all meaning. You started out with more eyeshadow than you have on now, then you’d wiped that off and tried out a lip technique you’d seen in a tutorial online. You’ve used one makeup wipe already, front and back and all folded up to get to the clean corners, and you’re honestly still not sure if what you’ve ended up with is decent or if you just can’t look at it properly anymore. You hope your dress is enough to distract Sirius if it’s horrid. 

You’re seriously considering wiping it all off and starting over again when the doorbell rings. Your heels click on the floor as you hurry to answer it. 

Sirius looks surprised when you open the door, as if he hadn’t expected to find you on the other side. “Hi,” he says. 

You smile anxiously. “Hi.” 

He’s wearing a suit, which you’d been expecting but bowls you over nonetheless. Sirius manages to make it look both formal and relaxed, his dark hair tucked behind his ear on one side and his jacket unbuttoned suavely. 

Remus claims it isn’t a big deal, this banquet his university is having, but it is. It is for Remus, because he’s receiving an award, but also (privately, selfishly) for you, because this is the first thing you’ve gone to with Sirius as his date. You’ve been on dates, and you’ve already met his friends, which he says was the important thing, but part of you is savoring the privilege of this. That he’d asked you to Remus’ event as his date. 

“Hi,” Sirius says again. He blinks at you, slow and hard. 

Shit. 

“It’s too much, right?” You take a step back from the door, hand itching for a makeup wipe. “I can take it off quickly, we’ll still have time to make it. I’ll do something simpler.” 

“No,” he says, “don’t change it, it’s…it’s nice.” 

You cringe at the hesitation in his tone. You catch your reflection in the mirror by the door, panicked and overdone, as you turn back towards the bathroom. “I promise it won’t take long. I don’t know what I was thinking, the lips are way too much.” 

Sirius’ fingers wrap harshly around your wrist, stopping you. “Don’t you fucking touch the lips,” he says. 

His eyes catch yours in the mirror. You’re frozen. Once it’s clear you’re not reaching for the wipe anymore, Sirius loosens his grip, fingers skimming up to your shoulder and toying absently with the strap of your dress. He looks almost caught in a daze. 

“Fuck.” He expels a breath. “I wish I could kiss you without fucking them up.” Your lips part in surprise, and Sirius closes his eyes like he can’t look at it. He compromises by dropping his lips to your shoulder. He kisses the bare skin reverently. “You look stunning.” 

Your heart hiccups. “Really?” 

You realize the second after you’ve asked that it sounds like you’re fishing for compliments, but Sirius doesn’t seem to care either way. He meets your gaze in the mirror again. 

“Very,” he says. His brows bunch as if in distress. “You’re killing me, gorgeous. I can’t decide whether to go to Remus’ thing and show you off or keep you here to myself.” 

You laugh. It dislodges some of your nerves. “We’re definitely going to Remus’ thing,” you say to him. “He’s winning an award.” 

“He’ll win other awards, won’t he? He’s brainy.” 

“I also didn’t get dressed up like this to stay in.” 

“Much sounder reasoning,” Sirius admits. He sighs dramatically. “Okay, but do me a favor and give me a smacker so those pretentious shits know we’re together, yeah?” 

You raise your eyebrows at him. “A smacker?” 

“A kiss, doll.” 

“I know what you mean,” you laugh. “You want me to get lipstick on your face right before this posh dinner?” 

“If it looks half as good on me as it does on you, sweetheart,” he gives a winsome crack of a smile, “no one will have a bad thing to say about it.” 

You decide it’s not worth arguing with him. Your dark lipstick looks very pretty on his cheek all evening.

[i-need-of-a-hobby]

modern/alive boy detectives au headcanons:

-for the purposes of my headcanoning the boys met in high school, didnt die this time, and post graduation are sharing a flat

-its still slowburn ofc claiming theyre "100% platonic" despite sharing a flat for two years and sharing a bed most nights for cuddling purposes

-how did the "platonic" cuddling start you ask?

-charles has chronic nightmares and edwin has a caffeine problem so they both end up awake at the most unholy hours of the night and charles decided the best use of these times is catching edwin up on pop culture

-because even in a modern setting, he had a supper sheltered childhood

-the first middle of the night movie they watch is legally blonde, which edwin got more invested in than he'll ever willingly admit

-they're watching in charles' bed naturally bc he's got a tv in his room, and charles falls asleep halfway through the movie every. single. time. because he feels safer when he's (super platonically) curled into edwins chest

-these fucking idiots

-charles also has this really beat up SUV he loves more than anything

-its literally the ugliest car youve ever seen but he got it used right after moving out for next to nothing, fixed it up himself, and now calls it daisy

-edwin hates the whole personifying cars thing but charles will only acknowledge the car if it's referred to as daisy ("stop calling daisy it, it hurts her feelings!" "charles it's a CAR" "SHE'S a car")

-edwin is also a passenger princess

-charles didnt really know what he wanted post high school other than to get out of his parents house asap so he takes a gap year and moves in with edwin

-it takes him a bit over a year (and just so much therapy) but he eventually decides to go to school part time majoring in psychology

-in his year off he worked a bunch of odd jobs but his favorite was at a comic book store in the local mall because he got free pins for his jacket AND could use their database to track down out of print batman comics for edwin

-edwin does go to college directly after graduation high school, majoring in forensic science

-he refuses to let anyone know but he also volunteers at a local animal shelter

-but he keeps it so on the downlow charles only found out when he brought an elderly cat home but even then he didnt outright say anything

-charles: edwin... what is that

-edwin: that is georgie

-charles: ok, cool cool cool, why is he here

-edwin: he only has three legs, he needs us

[these-lovely-monsters]

Conflict Resolution

[NSFW | 18+]

Characters: m!gargoyle x m!demon x gn!reader

Content: violence, blood, rough sex, MM, anal, frotting, voyeurism

You’re sitting on a lounge chair in your backyard watching your monster boyfriends fight over who gets to fuck you tonight. Normally, they alternate nights but yesterday you had a last minute work meeting out of town and you just got back this morning.

Your gargoyle boyfriend, Micah, is shoving a finger into your demon boyfriend, Silas’s chest, while he stands there with his arms crossed and a stormy expression on his face. Micah claims that Silas got to fuck you last so it should be his turn now. Silas claims it should be his turn because it’s his night on the schedule and he had something special planned for you.

At first, they just argue, their yelling getting so loud you worry the neighbors are going to complain. Then, their fight turns into shoving and wrestling on the ground. Finally, it devolves into an all out brawl with fists flying and blood spraying everywhere.

You’re about to get up to break up the fight when you notice how their bodies are pressed together, their arms and legs wrapped around each other, and their grunts sounding way to erotic. Instead, you decide to sit back and watch as you grow more and more aroused.

Soon you’re practically panting as you watch their sweat and blood-slicked skin slide together. They’re snarling and clawing at each other, biting down into thick muscles with razor sharp teeth and raking dagger-like claws down toned backs and muscles. Neither one is winning and their heavy breathing and deep growling is growing more wild.

You're so aroused at this point and desperately need relief so you start to touch yourself. Your cheeks and chest grow flush from the erotic show before you. You accidentally let out a soft moan and your boyfriends freeze at the sound. They whip their heads towards you and scramble to untangle themselves.

“No!” You cry out. “Please don’t stop!” This is the hottest thing you’ve seen and you need them to keep going.

They pause mid-stride and stare at you hungrily, watching you continue to touch yourself. Slowly they turn towards each other and eye the mess they’ve made of themselves. Their clothes are shredded and practically hanging off at this point. After a beat, they lunge at each other again as they tear the rest of their clothes off. They’re still fighting for dominance but this time they’re completely naked and they have a different goal in mind. 

Silas manages to shove Micah down onto his stomach while he straddles Micah’s ass. Using one hand, Silas pins Micah’s hands above his head. He spits on his other hand and runs it up and down his cock that’s already dripping with pre-cum. Then Silas thrusts into Micah with one swift movement and Micah cries out in pleasure. He pumps his hips several times, fucking Micah into the ground as Micah tries to lift his ass into him, seeking more. Silas leans over and bites down on Micah’s shoulder, causing him to cry out again.

After a few minutes, Micah regains himself and manages to break free of Silas’s hold. He flips them around so Silas is on his back now. Micah grabs both of Silas’s hands and spreads them wide, holding Silas down as he sinks onto his cock. Micah bounces up and down on it as he crashes his mouth to Silas’s, tangling their tongues in a messy, blood-filled kiss.

Micah only manages to ride Silas for a few thrusts until Silas throws him off again. This time they both get to their feet but, instead of throwing each other down, they resume their violent kiss, still fighting for dominance. As they press their chests together, their cocks rub up against one another and they both groan in unison. Silas reaches down and wraps both of their cocks in one hand while he tangles his other hand in Micah’s hair, yanking roughly on it. As Silas pumps his hand up and down their lengths, Micah reaches one hand down to fondle Silas balls while the other wraps around Silas’s throat, squeezing hard.

As you watch them fight and fuck violently, you become more aroused than you ever have. Seeing their primal displays of dominance, especially over wanting you is unbelievably hot. You’ve been furiously masturbating to the best real life porn you’ve ever seen and you don’t want it to ever stop. But as they both stiffen and their movements become jerky, you can’t help but fall over the edge at the same time they do. As rope after rope of cum spurts from their cocks, coating their stomachs in each other’s releases, your orgasm slams into you and you practically see stars.

When they’re both spent, they sag to the ground, sprawled in a puddle of sweat, blood, and cum. They both look over at you with goofy, satisfied smiles and see you slumped and sated in your chair.

Well, I guess that’s one way for them to resolve an argument. And from the way they’re looking at each other now, it’s definitely not going to be the last time. Maybe you should think of ways to get them to fight some more…

[clownwritesfanfic]

I’m obsessed with the pub scene from season 2

I love seeing both Five’s interact with and be suspicious of each other.

So how about this:

You go with Five to steal the briefcase from Older Five. There isn’t really any good reason for you to tag along but you mostly go because to you it’s been a while since you’ve seen Five look his age and you wanted to catch a glimpse of yourself since you knew you’d be there. Luther still accompanies you both as a spotter considering you both will be feeling paradox psychosis.

You and Five met in the apocalypse and of course became very close, you were both recruited to the Commission and were sent on missions together frequently due to your teamwork and ability to get along (something many field workers lack). So of course you were there to assist in the assassination of JFK.

You can’t help but flirt with Older Five. Mostly because he’s still your husband but also because it makes Five insanely jealous which you find hilarious considering it’s literally him you’re flirting with.

When Older Five goes to the bathroom you decide to follow him. Five protests at first but when you claim to have a plan on snatching the briefcase he reluctantly lets you go.

You wait for Older Five to leave the stall and strike up a conversation with him as he washes his hands. After he dries them, you push him against the wall and start feeling him up. He instinctively grabs your waist but isn’t sure what to do.

When he’s throughly flustered, you lunge for the briefcase but he’s quicker than you. He grabs your wrist and pulls you close, wrapping an arm around you.

“Nice try. But I knew you’d try something like that.”

Damn, he really does know you. Unfortunately, you get interrupted by Luther :(

When you finally see yourself it’s practically like looking in a mirror. You are one of the 43 children both mysteriously, you’re able to regenerate and manipulate cells. However, your own body is constantly regenerating it’s own cells so you never age. You stopped aging around 16 so now you look forever young. It’s something most people would rejoice in but you hate it. Especially as you watched Five age in the apocalypse. It also made your relationship look very very weird and concerning to strangers so PDA was basically out of the question. You did get a kick out of Five being stuck in his own 13 year old self though.

You’re standing behind Five, too busy scratching your neck, when other you practically attacks Five and starts cooing over him.

“Oh my god you haven’t looked like this in years! Awww you were so cute.”

You snort at the interaction causing your Five to glare at you.

Now it’s Older Five’s turn to feel jealous of himself.

That’s all I got rn. Maybe I’ll make this into an actual one shot or something one day. I just really like older Five lol

[kurishiri]

alfons v.s. ring . . . ring schwartz epilogue 💍

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— cw: suggestive undertones.

Kate: If it’s come to this... then let’s do it! I mean, pretending to do naughty things!

Ring: Y-yeah, I do know that’s our only choice here, but... there’s no way I could do it.

R: Um, those kinds of things... I’ve never actually done them before!

R: But... s-since you’re really cute... I’m sure you have plenty of experience and whatnot...!

Kate: W-what do you mean, ‘plenty,’ there’s no way I have that much experience! Anyway, forget about that, we need to do something about this...

K: Ring, you go shake and push on the bed to make it creak!

K: And I’ll listen in on the other room and make sounds to match!

Ring: ...That seems more doable.

Ring went atop the bed and started to jump on it.

The bed did start creaking, to be sure, but it also was making some jarring noises that made me think the bed was really about to break down.

Kate: Could you be a bit more gentle though, Ring? It’s too much...!

Ring: Oh, umm, then... how about this!?

He briskly stepped off the bed before he put both hands on the bed and started to push down.

By doing so, he could create a good creaking sound that didn’t go too far.

Woman’s voice: The bed from the room next door has started creaking.

Man’s voice: In that case, they’re probably just a pair of lovebirds. Guess we were worrying ourselves over nothing.

Woman’s voice: ...That said, don’t you think it’s strange that there’s not a peep from the other side?

(Oh, that’s right! I have to make noise too.)

Kate: Ah, ahh... ahhn...

Ring: H-hey, um. I can’t say I’ve heard others doing you-know-what before, so I may be wrong, but...

R: When women do, you know, the deed, do they really sound this monotone...?

Kate: I mean, we’re not actually doing it, so that makes it harder...

Woman’s voice: The panting from the room next door sounds a bit strange, wouldn’t you say?

Man’s voice: It sounds real flat...

(First Ring, and now the two in the next room over are doubting me too...! At times like these, then...!)

Kate: I-I’m really, really sorry! I’ve been told by a lot of partners that my panting sounds suuuper flat!

At this point, I decided to play into the role of ‘a woman whose pants sound flat’ as I raised my voice.

Ring: N-no matter how you are, I won’t mind at aaalll!

While continuing to push down on the bed, Ring returned a fitting line in response.

...Very monotonously, may I add, for the both of us.

Woman’s voice: ...Huh, I guess they really are just one odd couple.

Man’s voice: I mean, seeing as they’re using a room of a strange manor like this, that would be a given, probably.

Kate: Oh, thank goodness, it seems they’ve bought the act...! Let’s keep this up then!

Ring: Alright... but, sorry, I’m a bit hot, so I’ll take my jacket off.

Seeing as the bed is hard, having to push down hard enough to make sounds continuously must have taken a considerable amount of stamina.

With that, Ring casually took off his top layer and put it aside.

(...)

Maybe because of the way his clothes fit his body so well, his well-trained muscles were brought to the surface.

The sweat that came from shaking the bed moved traced the back of his neck, making him quite sexy.

Ring: ...Kate? Is there something wrong?

Kate: N-no, not at all! It’s nothing——

Taken aback at having become more conscious of Ring, my legs buckled suddenly,

and, preparing for the impact, I closed my eyes then and there.

Kate: ...!

(Hm? Wait, it doesn’t hurt...?)

Ring: Are you okay?

When I slowly opened my eyes, there Ring was, nearby, as he asked with a touch of worry in his voice.

(So Ring is the one who saved me and stopped the fall...)

Our bodies were touching, and I could feel his body was a bit warmer than mine, and he gave off a pleasant, earthy scent.

(Even though he’s holding me in his arms, he seems completely unperturbed... his appearance hardly betrays the fact he must be training regularly.)

(...Wait, what in the world are you looking at, Kate!?)

Kate: T-thank you for saving me. I’ll let go now.

Ring: ...Wait.

Kate: Huh...

When his earnest voice stopped me stiff, Ring’s hand gently slid to my cheek.

(W-what the...!?)

Ring: Your face is all red. Did you hit it somewhere?

(Oh... so he was worried for me.)

Kate: N-no, I didn’t. I’m fine.

Ring: But...

Kate: It’s just... we’re so close together that I’m a bit nervous... is all...

Ring showed no sign of pulling away himself, so I opted to give him an honest answer then. And when I did, Ring also turned red, as though it had moved over from me to him.

Ring: I-I see... then, umm, I’m glad if you’re okay.

R: Sorry for keeping you like that. ...And should we continue then? What we were doing before, I mean.

After that, we continued our act of panting and shaking the bed until we exited the room.

Ring looked exhausted as we exited the room, and there was Alfons, waiting out in the hallway.

Alfons: Thank you for your hard work. Now then, were you able to listen in for what we needed?

Kate: Yes, all of it and everything...

Alfons: My word, is that a hoarse voice I hear? And not only that...

A: I see Ring has stripped his outer layer off and is positively sweaty as well.

A: Would it be safe to assume... you two have gone aaall the way, by any chance?

Ring & Kate: “No!” “Absolutely not!”

Fin.

will vs darius jude vs nica alfons vs ring

← prev fin

END NOTES: this story was so silly and makes me smile whenever i read it, haha. ring seems to be the most popular of the vogel trio, seeing he has gotten a dark mafia design, and it’s not hard to see why. his charm is in his innocence, and it’s like a breath of fresh air in this game, and i hope i could capture it too.

i’m overall curious about all the vogel members and feel this story event is a strong debut for all three. thank you for reading, and hope you enjoyed! i’d love to hear your thoughts as well ♡

full masterlist 🪞💍

[lisenberry]

The mountain is you

Ch. 3: I hear your voice in my head

Dom Price x Fem Reader

MDNI/NSFW/18+

CW: Dom/Sub, Bondage, Sex Work, Pain Play, Spanking, Temperature Play (shower), Spit, Voice Kink, Size Kink.

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2)

AO3

You sat back on your heels with your hands folded in your lap as he walked in.  His bootsteps seemed to vibrate across the wooden floor beneath your pillow.  A steady gait, with all of the suspense of a drum roll.

As you faced the high-backed chair, you could only make out the top of him until he made his way closer into view.  He was tall enough when you were standing up.  But on the ground at his feet, he eclipsed everything else around him.  There were no windows, no ceiling.  Just his thighs giving way to his waist, his arms and shoulders. 

Your head tipped back as far as it could just to take him all in, and even then, you came up short of meeting his eyes.

“Already off to a good start, I see.  You look lovely, sweetheart.”  He appraised you in a way that was both agonizingly slow and methodically brief, as he took off his jacket and slowly rolled up his sleeves

“Thank you, sir,” you answered, to the spot on his chest where his flannel shirt opened in a V.  It earned you a quick bob of his head in approval. 

He was starting you off easy.  That much was clear.  Like a teacher on the first day of school.  Throwing you softball questions to gauge how much of the summer reading you’d done over break.  How you responded determined how far he’d push you, and which side of him you’d get.

Could he see the goosebumps spreading across your skin at the mere sound of his voice?      

“Next time, I want you to look at me when you say it.”  He bent down only slightly, aiding your efforts just enough that you could obey. 

His clear eyes glinted patiently between his dark lashes.  Dark brows, dark beard.  They were like signal fires along an unknown path.  No choice but to give yourself up and follow.

“Yes, sir.”  A slight smile pulled at the corner of your lips as the first flutter of heat worked its way from your cheeks down to the echoing emptiness in the cradle of your hips.

“Good.  I like to begin with an inspection.  To assess your readiness, and to make sure your healed from the previous session.”

“I’m ready,” you quickly admitted when his bare hand grazed against the side of your cheek.  You turned into it, starved for even the slightest touch of his roughened palm.

“And I like to take my time exploring what’s mine,” he rumbled, firmly snagging a hold of your chin.  A gesture that simultaneously chastised you for speaking out of turn, and possessively staked his claim. 

You let out a surprised breath, and he took the opening as an invitation to slip his fingers inside your parted mouth.  Two at first, and you instinctively flattened your tongue and closed around their impressive girth. 

“That’s it.”  A short hum of approval followed, as your eyes slipped closed while you sucked them deeper into your throat.  “Don’t overexert yourself just yet.  There’s plenty of time to show me how much you can take.”

He let you savor him a bit before he pulled out with a wet pop of skin and spit, and you nearly fell forward at the loss.  You licked at the salty trail his skin left behind on your lips.  

“Turn around and bend over the stool.”  He pushed a plushily upholstered ottoman closer behind you.  It was the perfect height to kneel and bend against as your arms fell over the other side. 

“Open your legs wider, don’t be shy.”  He folded up the hem of your skirt and brazenly pawed at the meat of your ass in wide circles.  You felt the stretch and pull at your exposed holes, and you wondered if the pads of his fingers were abrasive enough to leave scratches behind. 

In the way his voice had already left etchings on your mind.

“Christ, you’re soaked.  Have you been touching yourself?”  It was barely even a question, the inflection missing from his even tone.

“Yes.”  He pulled his hands away at your answer, leaving a chill in its absence, intentionally.  “Sir,” you quickly corrected.

“Good girl.”  A harsh clap to your backside was your reward.  It smarted with a sharpness that caught you off guard.  He wasn’t taking it easy anymore.  “What do think about when you play with my sweet little cunt?”  His hand returned between your legs, and with it, a probing forefinger glided along the sensitive split of your folds.

You jumped at the sensation, pulling away from the intimacy of it.  How long had it been since you were touched like this?  Ghost had only ever let you use toys on yourself.  Those were the rules, for your safety and his.  Where were the rules now?

This is what you wanted...

“This, sir,” you answered with more certainty than you felt.  Another slap, and your muscles melted into the ottoman and your legs parted wider to brace for the next impact. 

But it didn’t come.  Instead, he pulled back and cleaned off his slick smeared fingers along the side of your thigh.

“This, sweetheart, is just a warm-up,” his low, sardonic voice crooned, as his hands snagged in your hair and arched you back far enough to see him towering behind you.  The back of your head hit the front of his thighs.  “I’ll try to take it slow this time, but no promises.”

Oh fuck, he was good, you shuddered at the thought.  The unknown.  The waiting.  The surprise.  He ticked the boxes of your kink like he wrote the book himself.  Like he’d been paying attention.  You almost broke scene in your gratitude, but you kept your eyes trained up at him, wondering if he could see it written all over your face.

He must’ve, because for a moment, he broke too.  A subtle crinkle at the corners of his eyes, a brief softness that you would’ve missed if you blinked.  Just before he bent down lower, and spit on your face.

He released your hair as you sputtered in shock when it hit your closed lips with a warm splat.  Your tongue darted out to taste the small piece of himself he offered to you.  Not a kiss so much as a wad of spit on the palm to seal the deal.  A promise to take care of you.

As you moved to catch the drop that rolled down your chin, he took hold of your wrists and held them above your head.  With a quickness that left your mind spinning, he knotted a loop of smooth rope around each one, binding them together like a sturdy set of cuffs.  He slung another loop over the exposed wooden beam along the ceiling.

Handy, you thought as he tied it off with a slipknot that left you hanging up on your tip toes.  Once again, the ottoman slid underneath you, but this time you kneeled on it.  He eyed you up and down, making sure you were secure before letting go of the steadying arm at your waist.

You weren’t weightless.  You knew this about yourself.  No one picked you up and carried you around because you were so tiny and pocket-sized.  You were just a woman, and hadn’t met someone big enough to throw you around like you were made of air.

You had substance.  You were made of things.  Matter and atoms, and particles, or whatever.  Flesh and bones.

So, when you hung there suspended, it felt like a dream, and all you could do was focus on the parts of you that felt contact.  Your wrists.  Your knees.  The ropes that cut into your skin, the plushness that kept you from hitting the floor.  You established your center of gravity and braced for the worst with an anticipatory thrumming low in your belly.  Deep within the cradle of your hips.

Nothing would pitch you over.  You could take anything. 

True to his word of being honest about what he was going to do, he flashed the paddle in front of you.  As wide as his hand, it was made of wood and wrapped in leather.  It made Ghost’s crop look like a feather duster.

You let out a clarifying breath through your teeth, licking at your spit-soaked lips to find that tether.  To his promise that burned sweet like spearmint and menthol tobacco.

“Anything you want say before we start?”  His rough-edged voice posed both challenge and threat.

It was the first stop on the train, you reminded yourself.  And he was making sure you knew you could get off anytime.

“No, sir—”

The words barely left your lips before he delt the first blow.  The slap of leather to skin echoed through the house, bounced off the windows and the walls. 

You didn’t scream, not yet, but the sting welled in your eyes to match the blooming fire on your ass.  When the second one swiftly followed, and even harder than the first, you nearly swallowed your tongue to stifle a gasp, wondering if he wanted to hear you. 

But you weren’t an actress.  This wasn’t for show.  If he wanted to hear you scream, to see you cry, he had to earn it.  Right there alongside you.

The third and fourth came slower and with slightly less force, but the fifth nearly rattled your teeth. 

“Oh, fuck!”  You finally exclaimed, no longer able to blink back the tears.  

“You liked that one, did you?”  He had the nerve to laugh behind you.  Was he emboldened by your feedback?  Was he enjoying this as much as you?

It wasn’t long before you lost track of how many whacks you’d taken.  He didn’t bother counting them aloud like some clock ticking away the time.  There wasn’t a limit.  The only one who could stop it was you.

“Had enough, yet?”  He checked in, winded from his own exertion. 

“No, sir.”  The words came slower, as if you had to pluck them out of a messily discarded pile in some dark corner, the more your strength drained away.  You were so close.  Right there on the brink.  You could see it like a trail disappearing over the horizon.

A steadying hand found your shoulder, squeezed warm and firm, as he moved closer behind you.  Enough to whisper in your ear.

“I’m not going to stop until you break.”

With the last command, and a final searing crack, you felt the fresh gush of squirt as you finally let go.  The scream you’d been waiting for.  That maybe he had been, too.

The sweet release that stole your breath and your mind, and dragged you all the way under.  And he hadn’t even touched you.  There was no vibrator strapped to your thigh.  Just a gentle hand on your shoulder.  The polarity to the abuse on your ass.  Nerves flayed and blown wide, you still needed the one thing that would pull you back together.

“Touch me, please,” you whimpered, with a voice hoarse from crying.  “I need to come.”  Deep in the subspace, you sagged limply against your bonds. 

“I can’t deny you anything, sweetheart.  Not when you ask so nicely.”

He pulled the quick release on the rope and caught you against his chest.  Sitting back on his chair, he held you facing forward onto his lap.  You were boneless, propped up only where he held you tightly in his grip.  Careful not to hold your neck, he instead wrapped his forearm under your breasts, cupping one in his palm through the thin silk fabric of your slip and pinning your bound wrists to your chest.

His other hand started at your mound of curls and trailed lower, parting the folds to slowly reach the tender bud at its apex.  He brushed it once, twice, before reaching lower.  Swirling circles around your opening, tracing along the trembling rim before gliding back up again. 

You squirmed weakly against his hips, desperate to touch him back.  To guide his hand where you wanted him to go, but you were helpless to do anything but weather his patience.  To be led at the pace he set.

His beard grazed the top of your shoulder and along the side of your neck.  In your addled brain, you imagined that he kissed you there, that his lips and tongue and teeth met skin.  That the ragged breaths of his need matched your own.

As his thumb worked the pearl of your clit in faster, deliberate circles, those thick fingers you suckled earlier slid deep into your walls.  The achingly tight stretch, combined with the precious friction brought you to a roaring climax of moaned oaths and sounds you’d never heard before.

“You did so good.”  You felt his hot breath against your shoulder as you shattered around him, along with a quick, supportive peck of his soft lips.  Too soft and too brief to register over the riot in your blood.  “I’m feeling generous.  Let’s try something else.”

A pouty whine of doubt was all you could offer, still in the incomparable thrall of an orgasm in subspace.  You couldn’t say no.  So deep under his sway, you’d give him anything.  Let him do anything.  There was no room for resistance in that vast, cloudy place. 

But you didn’t know what else was left.  What laid ahead was too far beyond your reach.

No thoughts, only sensations.  You couldn’t even focus enough to see beyond the fog.  All that held you up was the sound of his voice.  The strength of his arms as he lifted and turned your dead weight, hooking your wrists around his neck.  His hand never leaving your throbbing cunt.

“None of that.  You’ll like it, I promise.  But you’ll have to trust me.”  He curled his fingers forward, hooking deeper in a way that had you muffling your wild shrieks into his chest.  “You do, don’t you?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, until he pulled his fingers away.  You clenched down harder and sank against them, but he slipped them free despite the protest.

“Words, remember?  Need to know you’re still with me.”  He swatted your cheek with the same sticky, wet palm.  Not enough to hurt, but it pulled you back out just enough to speak.

“Yes,” you answered, biting your lip to see if it was still there.  That you weren’t just a cloud of disembodied mist.  “I trust you,” as another slap opened your eyes to meet his. 

He really expected you to keep up the formalities after what just happened?  The world was a different place.  Surely the continents had shifted, and the oceans had dried up.

But there he was, you noted as he came into focus.  You hadn’t just imagined him.  Those signal fires lit up to guide you once more through the dark.  There was a freckle on his nose.  A dimple just above his beard.  He seemed to pause as well, and you realized how firmly he was pinched with restraint.  How tightly he held his own need for release. 

If it was a word he wanted, you’d give it to him.

“Sir,” you finally finished, with a small smile pulling at your tingling cheek.

“There’s a girl,” he said with a low chuckle, as he carried you to a different room.

One that smelled like sandalwood and citrus, with walls of such a bright white that you buried your face further into his shoulder to shield your eyes from it.  The fuzzy, light flannel was a soothing contrast to the sting at your backside.  It still pulsed and burned with each course of blood through the muscle and fat.

“You made quite a mess of yourself, I’m afraid.  Need to clean you up.”  The sound of creaking metal and the spray of water were harsh to your ears.

A strangled sound escaped your lips, half a cry, half a whimper.  This was going to hurt.  Your overexerted pussy perked up at the prospect of it.  It was a devious little thing, swollen and puffy with eagerness that your body could survive another round of punishment.

No, it wasn’t punishment, you corrected yourself.  It was what you needed.

He set you down slowly onto the closed toilet seat, untied your hands and pulled the silk shift up over your head like a doll being undressed and put to bed.  The sleek porcelain was so cool against your bare skin that you shivered at the loss of its paltry heat. 

“I’m right here.”

Keeping his eyes on you and his hands not far away, lest you fall over, he arranged a chair made of PVC pipe into the open shower area and stripped from his own clothes with a quickness that spoke to his own enthusiasm.  It was either that, or a natural efficiency with which he did all things. 

Pants, shirt, boots.  Until all that was left was the dark hair that covered him in varying degrees of masculine thickness from head to toe, and his briefs.  An erection tented the fabric to such a painful degree that you reached out for it, only to be distracted away.

“This one’s all about you.  Don’t tempt me to change my mind,” he slanted you a look that guaranteed you’d regret it as he mouthed at the back of your hand absently.

Two kisses?  You could get greedy for them if you weren’t careful.

But before you could muster any disappointment, he had you by the arms again and positioned you over the makeshift chair.  You sat astride it, with your ass facing just out of the stream of water and an opening below for easy access between your legs.  Your tits draped over the top.

He kneeled in front you, all the better to watch you to submit to him, when your rational brain was clamoring to find your safe word.  Abraded skin meeting hot water was a next level consequence that you weren’t prepared to face with him.

You usually did that part alone with a bottle of wine, your comfort candle, and your favorite movie waiting for you on the softness of your sofa.

But the endorphins that kept you down in the subspace also kept you pliant, giddy with desire.  Fearless.  Reckless, you would’ve argued, if you’d been in some other state of mind. 

Not when you still felt the aftershocks of bliss, and the rawness of your paddling.  Instead, you did your best not to flinch as he directed the steaming water along your skin.  Where you expected a searing torture, there was instead a satisfying burn.  Just shy of scalding.  Just shy of too much.  It heated you up like a cauterizing iron to a wound.  A healing type of hurt. 

Unlike a misplaced hand shying away from a hot stove, you leaned into it.  Arched against it like a bear to tree bark.  That itch you’d never been able to reach.  Dark and subterranean, it skittered around underneath, unable to be caught by the light.

And just when you thought you’d had enough—when the nerves began to die out under the overwhelming blaze—he turned it up hotter still.  A new wave of pleasure and pain, as the backs of his knuckles caressed the needy patch of your sex. 

Violence on one side, and serenity on the other.  Like two sides of a coin flipping end over end into an infinite universe.  It built a force within you that finally collapsed on itself, consuming you whole.  Slower, and somehow more shocking in its intensity than the first.

“Is this how stars are made?”  The last dizzying thought before you slipped beyond reach.

You awoke as if from a dream some time later, with your head in his lap and wrapped in a velvety soft gray robe.  Big enough to fit you like a blanket, it must’ve been his.  The clarity hit you fast, and you sat up with a start.  The waiting surge of adrenaline that always followed a scene found you well-rested. 

“I am so sorry.”

“Easy now.  Here, drink this.”  He adjusted himself to move with you, not letting you go as you tried to bolt, and tipped a bottle full of water towards your lips.

It even had a straw.  How thoughtful. 

“Thank you,” you added, not able to meet his assessing gaze.  Had you even said that yet?  Where were your manners?

“You’re welcome,” he answered breezily.  As if not really knowing what to say himself.

Probably because you squirted all over his expensive looking ottoman and said weird things about turning into a constellation when you came your brains out.

“I don’t want to keep you any longer.  I didn’t mean to take up your whole day.”  You looked at the clock and couldn’t believe it was already evening.

How long had he sat there just holding you?  Your empty stomach reminded you of the food you’d meant to stop for on the way home.

“Are you hungry?  I can order dinner if you want to stay a bit longer.”  He sounded more confident after you’d drained the water and handed it back to him.

You never wanted to leave the cocoon he’d wrapped you in, but it was best to take it slow as you stood to find your discarded clothes tucked behind the sofa. 

“I actually made plans, but next time, yeah?”  You assured him, when he looked at you so vulnerably that you reached for him.  It was only a brief touch to his forearm, but he seemed surprised by it.  “Will you send me your availability?”

A shitty way to say, “You just changed my life,” but you hoped there would be a next time.  That there was still more you could do for each other. You still had to hold up your end of the bargain.

“My calendar’s wide open, sweetheart.”

[lord-montgomery]

i feel like i've talked about this before.. but i can't help but think that if simon was able to subconsciously remember enough of his time with the gang to name his band the mortal instruments, wouldn't it be plausible for him to recall other stuff? i feel like there's some distinction between an emotional imprint and like an intellectualized memory.. and that's how the mortal instruments was dug up despite asmodeus' claim over simon's memories. and if we draw emotional imprinting to its natural conclusion.. idk i just. i can see simon post-edom writing lyrics to process everything he went to the previous fall. i think they'd come out of him and he'd be like huh.. where did that come from. and his bandmates would be like fuck dude you got a gf you keepin from us?? because the ones he shows them are so filled with feelings that are so obviously real and intense. feelings that to their knowledge, simon has never felt. and they couldn't attribute them to clary because of course clary never existed for them. and simon shrugs and says he must have been inspired. you live in new york, you pass people and their stories all the fucking time. love and heartbreak and friendship and that panging feeling of where do i belong.. it's everywhere.

i'd like to think that after the shadowhunter academy, when simon's memories have all been returned to him, he goes back to his room at his mom's place to sort through things, and he comes across pages and pages of these lyrics dissecting the emotional roller coaster of the very real events that occurred in fall 2007, the very real love he found, and the very real, if dormant, heartache that came with losing clary and isabelle both.

of course he'd still have a lot to process once the memories start returning, and once they come back in full, but i can imagine there having been this pang inside him that needed that time to recover emotionally from all that he'd endured, that sought out music and poetry, which speak from the soul more than the ego, to do whatever processing it could. and i think it would have prepared simon to be better suited to handle everything once it does come crashing down around him. and i think maybe finding those lyrics in a way feels like bringing together those aspects of his memory, because the brain doesn't always remember how things felt but his notebook certainly does.

[kckt88]

A Heartbeat Between Us VII

Summary:

Y.N and Aemond settle into the joy of parenthood until the reapperance of an ex causes trouble between them.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Fluff, Tension, Small Time Skips, Swearing, Idiocy, Miscommunication, Misunderstanding, Jealousy, Mild Violence, Kissing, Smut, P in V.

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count:

A.N - Most of the story is already written, as I start a new job on Saturday :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @toodlesxcuddles @mamawiggers1980 @minttea07 @nommingonfood

Y.N. let out a deep sigh of relief as she stepped into the familiar space of the penthouse, the soft lighting and comfortable surroundings immediately making her feel at ease.

“It feels good to be home,” she said, smiling as she gently laid Jack in his moses basket.

Aemond came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

Together, they gazed down at their son.

“He’s perfect, isn’t he?” Y.N. whispered, the awe in her voice unmistakable.

Aemond hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “He really is,” he said softly, his voice filled with tenderness.

Their moment of quiet bliss was quickly shattered by the sound of the front door swinging open. Aegon burst in with their suitcase, dumping it carelessly in the hallway.

Aemond shot him a glare. “Could you keep it down?”

But before Aegon could reply, Daeron appeared in the doorway, holding up a pizza box with a grin. “Didn’t think you’d be up for cooking, so I figured pizza would be ok”

Aemond glanced at Y.N., silently asking if she was okay with this sudden invasion. Y.N, smiling despite her tiredness, nodded.

“The more the merrier,” she said, making Daeron grin even wider.

“Impromptu game night!” Aegon cheered, clearly excited by the idea.

Aemond leaned in close to Y.N. and whispered, “I can tell them to leave if it’s too much.”

Y.N. shook her head. “No, it’s fine. Let them stay.”

The four of them gathered around the dining table, the pizza quickly being passed around. Y.N. laughed as Daeron recounted Aegon’s failed attempt to ask Ellyn Baratheon out on a date.

“I just don’t know what her problem is,” Aegon complained, dramatically throwing his hands up.

Aemond scoffed. “You slept with both of her sisters.”

Aegon waved him off. “Actually, that was you.”

Y.N. choked on her water, her eyes wide in surprise.

Aemond’s cheeks flushed pink as he cleared his throat, avoiding her gaze. “I-went through a bit of a phase before I got with Alys.”

Aegon smirked, enjoying his brother’s embarrassment. “Yeah, it’s called being a slut.”

Aemond shot him a look. “We don’t need to be talking about this in front of the mother of my son.”

“Oh no, we do,” Y.N. chimed in, her amusement clear.

Aegon leaned back in his chair, clearly relishing the chance to tell tales.

“So, this was when you were off at your artsy college,” he said to Y.N., “Aemond went through his little phase. He slept with Maris and Floris Baratheon in the same week and then ghosted them both. After that, there was some Tully girl, a Massey chick, and a bunch of randoms from clubs before he got with Alys.”

Aemond clenched his jaw. “That’s enough, Aegon.”

But Aegon wasn’t finished. “What about you, Y.N.? What’s your dating history?”

Y.N. raised an eyebrow at the question but answered easily. “I dated Cregan.”

“Cregan Stark?” Daeron asked, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Yeah, he was my first boyfriend,” Y.N. said with a smile. “After him, I dated Davos Blackwood for a while, then I was single for a bit, then got involved with Jacaerys-and then Aemond.”

Aegon took a long sip of his beer, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Interesting,” he mused.

Y.N. turned to Daeron. “How do you know Cregan?”

Daeron shrugged casually. “Met him a few times when I had a brief thing with his sister.”

Y.N. laughed. “Sara? Yeah, she had a thing with Jace too.”

Aemond, sensing the conversation getting too personal, reached for Y.N.’s hand. “You okay?” he asked softly.

Y.N. smiled at him, squeezing his hand. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? Everyone has a past.”

Before Aemond could respond, the sound of Jack’s cries filled the room. Y.N. stood, giving Aemond a quick peck on the cheek.

“I’ll go feed and change him.”

As soon as Y.N picked up Jack and left the room, Aemond turned to Aegon, glaring. “You didn’t need to tell her all that, you fucking idiot.”

Aegon shrugged, unfazed by his brother’s anger. “She asked.”

Y.N. returned to the room after tending to Jack, her movements a bit slower than usual, but her smile as bright as ever. She rejoined the group at the table, where the impromptu poker game was in full swing.

They played a few rounds, the banter light and playful, with Aegon predictably losing most hands while Daeron remained surprisingly good at keeping a poker face.

As the game went on, Aemond noticed Y.N. fidgeting in her seat, shifting uncomfortably every few minutes.

Concern furrowed his brow as he glanced over at her. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, his voice filled with genuine care.

Y.N. put her cards down and sighed softly. “I think I’m going to go for a warm bath. I’m a bit sore-you know-down there.” Her cheeks tinged pink as she admitted it, the awkwardness of postpartum recovery suddenly apparent.

Aemond, ever attentive, leaned in closer. “Do you want one of the pads I put in the freezer?”

Aegon wrinkled his nose in exaggerated disgust. “You have what in the freezer?”

Aemond rolled his eye, unbothered by his brother’s antics. “I read it in one of the baby books. Putting pads in the freezer helps with the soreness after giving birth. It’s supposed to be soothing.”

Y.N. smiled at Aemond's thoughtfulness. “I’ll just go have a bath for now, but could you bring me one when I shout for you?”

Aemond nodded. “Of course, I’ll also bring you painkillers if you need them-”

As she made her way to the bathroom, Daeron looked genuinely surprised. “I honestly didn’t know that.”

Aegon, predictably, shuddered in his chair. “And I don’t want to know that.”

Aemond shot him a pointed look. “No one’s forcing you to stay.”

Aegon leaned back in his chair, folding his arms stubbornly. “I’m not leaving until I win at least one game.”

Aemond smirked, clearly unfazed. “Good luck with that.”

Almost eight weeks after Jack's birth, living with Aemond had quickly become intolerable for Y.N., not because of his behaviour, but because she couldn’t ignore how much she craved him.

Every day, it felt like a battle to keep her hands off him, and her frustration only grew. His tailored suits drove her mad with desire, and the sight of him in sweatpants while working out? It was unbearable.

But the worst part was lying in bed beside him, feeling the heat of his body, and his hard cock pressed up against her in the mornings.

She couldn’t take it any longer. Tonight, she decided, she would act.

After bathing and feeding Jack, she cooked Aemond his favourite meal, dressing in something far less comfortable and far more revealing—a tight black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places.

The plan was simple: seduce him, and finally tell him that she was in love with him.

Just as she was setting the roasted lamb on the table, she heard the sound of Aemond’s keys in the door.

When he walked in, his eye widened, stunned by both the smell of the delicious meal and the sight of Y.N. in the dress.

His gaze lingered on her long, smooth legs, the way the fabric clung to her figure, and—oh gods—her breasts.

He swallowed hard, feeling his body react immediately, and he was sure his mouth was watering for more than just the lamb.

“Hi,” Y.N. greeted him with a breathy hello. “Come sit down. Dinner’s ready.”

Aemond, still dazed, shrugged off his jacket and hung it up before taking a seat at the table. The lamb, mashed potatoes, vegetables, and gravy were all perfectly laid out before him—his favourite meal, no less.

As Y.N. poured him a glass of wine and filled her own with orange juice, he couldn’t help but watch her every move, completely entranced by her appearance.

Y.N. sat beside him and gestured toward the food. “Eat.”

He didn’t need to be told twice—he was starving. As Y.N. slowly picked at her food, Aemond practically inhaled his, hardly taking a breath between bites.

He’d barely finished his plate when Y.N. finally spoke up, a little more serious.

“I’ve been thinking about going back to work soon,” she said softly, taking a sip of her drink. “We’ll need to figure out what’s happening with Jack. I can manage when I work from home, but when I’m at the bookstore-”

Aemond nodded between mouthfuls, his attention split between his plate and her words. “Sure, we could ask my mother to help or—Aegon, maybe? He doesn’t work.”

Y.N. took a deep breath.

Now or never.

“Aemond, I wanted to talk about—"

But before she could finish, his phone rang, cutting through the tension in the air.

Aemond quickly stood, glancing apologetically at her. “I’ll get it. Don’t want to wake Jack.”

He left the room, and Y.N. could only sit in frustration, the moment she had been building up to slipping through her fingers.

When he returned a few minutes later, his expression was odd, distant.

“Who was that?” she asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.

Aemond hesitated for a beat too long. “It was Alys.”

Y.N.’s heart sank. “What did she want?”

“She’s in town-wanted to know if I fancied meeting up.”

Y.N. rose to her feet, struggling to keep her voice calm. “I guess you should, then.”

Aemond’s brow furrowed. “I don’t have to go.”

“I’m not your keeper, Aemond,” she said, her tone colder than she intended. “You can do whatever you like.”

Without waiting for a response, she began clearing the plates from the table, stacking them into the dishwasher with a rigid, practiced efficiency.

Her mind whirled, frustration mounting. Before he could say anything else, Y.N. excused herself, claiming she needed to check on Jack.

That night, she didn’t return to their shared bed. Instead, she quietly slipped into the spare room, leaving Aemond alone to grapple with what had just happened.

The next morning, Aemond rose early, careful not to disturb Y.N. or Jack as he prepared for work. Before leaving, he quietly peeked into Jack’s room.

The baby was nestled peacefully in his blankets, his small chest rising and falling with each breath. Aemond couldn't help but smile softly at the sight.

Then, he made his way to check on Y.N., who was still asleep, her hair spread across the pillow. He stood there for a moment, torn between the warmth of his home and the unresolved tension from the night before.

With a deep sigh, he left for work.

As he sat at his desk that morning, Aemond couldn’t stop thinking about Alys.

Part of him believed that he owed her closure, or at least an explanation. He wasn’t a complete arse.

After deliberating for hours, he decided he would meet her for dinner—just to talk.

Nothing more. He picked up his phone and called her. She answered almost immediately, her voice smooth and familiar.

They arranged to meet at a local restaurant for dinner at 6 p.m.

When he arrived home later that afternoon, ready to tell Y.N. about his plans, he found the penthouse empty.

A scribbled note on the counter caught his eye: Gone to spend the day with Helaena.

Aemond frowned, a wave of unease settling over him. After a quick shower and shave, he dressed in one of his best suits, fixing his tie in front of the mirror, mentally preparing for the dinner ahead.

Just as he stepped into the living room, adjusting his cufflinks, he stopped in his tracks. There, on the sofa, was Y.N., back from her day out, quietly breastfeeding Jack.

Aemond hadn’t even heard her come in. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her—tender, beautiful, motherly. He walked over and pressed a gentle kiss to Jack’s forehead.

Y.N. glanced up from her son, her eyes lingering on Aemond’s suit. “Where are you going?” she asked, her tone neutral but her eyes wary.

Aemond hesitated, then took a deep breath. “I’m meeting Alys for dinner.”

Y.N. didn't look at him as she burped Jack, her voice soft but strained. “That sounds nice.”

Aemond noticed the sheen of tears gathering in her eyes, and guilt tugged at his chest. “I can stay,” he offered quietly, “If you want me to.”

The sadness on Y.N.’s face suddenly turned sharp, her words snapping out like a whip. “Why would I want you to stay?”

Aemond sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he grabbed his phone and wallet from the table. “Fine,” he muttered. “I won’t be gone long. Call me if you need anything.”

Y.N. looked up, her expression hardened as she clutched Jack tighter to her chest. “What, and interrupt your date with your grandma? No thanks.”

Aemond stiffened. “It’s not a date.”

Y.N. shrugged, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Doesn’t matter. It’s none of my business anyway. Not like I’m anyone important.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel, walking off to Jack’s room to settle him into his cot.

She heard the front door open and close with a soft click, the sound of Aemond leaving twisting something deep inside her.

But instead of letting the sadness linger, Y.N. steeled herself.

With a deep breath, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts until she found Aegon’s name. She hit call, and after just a couple of rings, his familiar voice greeted her on the other end.

"Hey, you busy?" she asked, trying to keep her voice light.

“For you? Never,” Aegon replied with a chuckle. “What’s up?”

“I need some company,” Y.N. said, glancing at Jack’s sleeping form in the cot. “Think you can come over?”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

After hanging up the phone, Y.N. smiled to herself, feeling a strange sense of determination settle over her.

If Aemond wanted to play games, fine. She could play too.

Aemond arrived at the restaurant, scanning the elegant room until he spotted Alys already waiting for him.

Dressed in a striking red dress, she stood as he approached, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek.

“You look good,” she said, her red lips curving into a familiar smile.

“Thanks,” Aemond replied, pulling out his chair and sitting across from her. The tension in his shoulders was unmistakable, though he tried to relax as they began their conversation.

“How’s work?” Alys asked, leaning in slightly.

Aemond sighed. “It’s been a bit hectic. I took some time off when Jack was born, and now Rhaenyra’s gone off on holiday with her uncle.” He emphasized the last word with a slight sneer.

Alys chuckled. “He’s your uncle too.”

Aemond shrugged, dismissing the thought. They ordered an expensive bottle of wine, and after the waiter poured them each a glass, Alys surprised him by raising hers.

“To your son,” she toasted.

Aemond smiled, raising his glass. “To Jack.”

They clinked glasses, and Alys watched him as she sipped her wine. “What’s it like being a father?” she asked, a soft curiosity in her tone.

Aemond's expression softened, his guard briefly dropping. “It’s tiring, but I love it. He’s-everything.”

He reached for his phone, unlocking it and eagerly showing her the countless photos, he had taken of Jack—sleeping, yawning, bundled in tiny blankets.

Alys smiled as she looked at the images. “He’s beautiful. Looks a lot like you.”

Aemond nodded, his pride showing before he tucked the phone away.

They moved into casual conversation as Alys mentioned her future plans. “I’ve been thinking about starting my own business in America,” she said, swirling her wine glass. “I’m grateful to Larys for all he’s done, but I think I’m ready to go out on my own. I’m flying out this weekend to look at properties.”

Aemond nodded. “If anyone can do it, you can.”

As the food arrived, Alys glanced at Aemond before asking, “How is Y.N?”

“Oh, she’s good, she’s been talking about going back to work-” replied Aemond.

“Already. Isn’t Jack a little young?” asked Alys taking a sip of wine.

“She can work from home if she wants to-but she enjoys being at the bookstore, so I think I’ll ask Aegon if he’ll watch Jack if Y.N does go back to Howlett’s” replied Aemond.

“You trust Aegon with your son?”

“Yes, actually I do-even though he’s a momentous pain in my arse, he adores Jack and he’s really good with him, I was actually thinking of asking him to be godfather” said Aemond.

“Does Y.N get on with him? as I recall he didn’t like me very much” muttered Alys.

“Yeah, they get on-a little too well sometimes, although I’m sure Aegon just does it deliberately to wind me up” muttered Aemond.

“Oh-so are you and Y.N in a relationship now then?”

Aemond paused, cutting into his meal before responding. “Not exactly. But there is-something between us.”

Alys raised an eyebrow, her voice lowering. “Do you love her?”

Aemond didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I love her”

The simple admission hung in the air, leaving Alys momentarily silent.

They ate in relative quiet for a few minutes before Alys spoke again, her voice softer now. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, I know it can’t have been an easy decision to make”

“No-I mean it’s ok. I just don’t want there to be any bad feelings. Were both adults, right?”

“Yes, we are.” said Alys as she took a small sip of wine.

“I’m glad-” replied Aemond as he took out his phone and sending a quick text to Y.N who responded by sending him a picture of Jack fast asleep all snuggled up in his blanket.

“Seeing you today has made me realise how much I’ve missed you, Aemond. These past few months, it’s been-different without you” whispered Alys.

Aemond put his phone back in his pocket and shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking.

He tried to steer it back to something safer, talking about work, but Alys’s mind was elsewhere.

As he spoke, she watched him, thinking about how much she had missed the attention she once received when she was with him.

His sharp features and lithe body, and the looks of envy she would receive from other women for being the one on Aemond’s arm had been a delicious bonus.

They finished their meal, and ever the gentleman, Aemond helped Alys with her coat.

When his fingers accidentally brushed her skin, she shivered. The memories of their time together rushed back—and the nights they spent tangled in sheets.

She missed that, too. Especially with him. The others she had been with since their break up had failed to measure up to Aemond’s prowess in the bedroom.

As they walked toward her car, Alys glanced up at him. “I had a good time. Maybe when I get back from America, we could do this again?”

Aemond gave a noncommittal smile. “Yeah, maybe.”

He bid her farewell, watching as she drove away. Once Alys was out of sight, Aemond let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

He looked at his watch to check the time before deciding to make a quick stop at the bakery around the corner.

Inside, he picked up a lemon love cake—Y.N.’s favourite. He knew she had been upset with him for meeting Alys, and he hoped this small gesture would help smooth things over.

Cake in hand, he walked back to his car, eager to get home and make amends.

Aemond arrived home, the click of the door announcing his return. The first thing he noticed was the unmistakable scent of fried chicken.

His eye immediately landed on the KFC buckets scattered on the kitchen counter. Glancing towards the living room, he saw Aegon sprawled out on the sofa, a half-empty beer in his hand, and the movie Lake Placid playing on the TV.

“I see we have a visitor,” Aemond said dryly, tossing the box containing the lemon love cake onto the counter.

It landed with a dull thud, and he realized with a sinking feeling that this was Y.N.’s way of getting back at him for going to dinner with Alys.

Y.N., lounging on the armchair as she breast fed Jack, gave him a casual shrug before turning her attention back to the film, seemingly unbothered.

Aegon stood up from the sofa, making his way over to Aemond. “So-Y.N. told me you’re dating Alys again. Please tell me that isn’t true.”

Aemond shot him a look of disgust. “Unlike you, Aegon, I can actually keep it in my pants.”

Aegon let out a sharp laugh. “Errr, remind me again how Y.N. got pregnant? Because she might’ve been single, but you sure as shit weren’t. So don’t try that righteous act with me, little brother.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched. He couldn’t argue back because, on some level, Aegon was right. His past decisions had been messy, reckless even.

But it didn’t make this any easier to swallow. He unbuttoned his jacket, trying to steady his breathing.

Aegon took a long swig from his beer and shook his head. “You’re an idiot, you know that? Alys only contacted you because she’s after something. The woman’s a snake, and it’s about time you realized that.”

Aemond’s patience was thinning, the tension in the room palpable. “Thanks for the advice,” he muttered, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it over a chair. “It’s been noted. Now get out—and don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”

Before Aegon could respond, Y.N. called out Aemond’s name, her voice soft yet filled with unspoken hurt.

But Aemond, still seething, cut her off sharply. “Don’t. We’ll discuss this later.”

Aegon sighed and glanced between them before walking over to Y.N. “Take care, okay?” he said softly, giving her a warm smile before making his way toward the door.

She waved sadly in response, her eyes lingering on him as he left.

Once Aegon was gone, Y.N. wordlessly turned off the film, her earlier playful mood vanishing. She stood up, holding Jack close as she retreated to her room, leaving Aemond standing alone in the kitchen.

The next morning, the tension between Aemond and Y.N. was unbearable, a heavy silence that weighed down every moment.

As Aemond sat at the kitchen table, he watched Y.N. breastfeeding Jack on the sofa, her focus entirely on their son. His anger simmered just beneath the surface, and he couldn't hold it in any longer.

"I'm glad you get on with my brother," he said, his voice tight, "-But does he have to come over when I'm not here?"

Y.N. looked up, confusion crossing her face. "I don't understand what the big deal is."

After Jack finished feeding, Aemond took him from Y.N., rubbing his back until a small burp escaped.

He gently placed Jack in his bouncy chair, the little boy gurgling happily. Y.N., her eyes weary, got up to get dressed. But before she could leave the room, Aemond was suddenly looming over her.

"You know," he said quietly, though his voice was laced with intensity, "-It would sincerely piss me off if you started dating my brother."

Y.N. wrinkled her nose, taken aback. "Dating Aegon? I don’t see him that way, Aemond. He's nothing more than a friend."

"Good," Aemond muttered as Y.N. turned and walked away from him, leaving him standing in the kitchen, a mixture of frustration and relief swirling in his chest.

Days passed, and they both avoided the real issue between them. They were cordial when it came to taking care of Jack—splitting the responsibilities, making sure their son was always cared for—but their interactions were minimal.

The tension between them only seemed to grow with every word left unsaid.

Nights were the worst. They didn’t share the same bed anymore, and the absence of Y.N. beside him was gnawing at Aemond’s heart.

He would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking of all the moments he’d held her close and simply listened to the sound of her breathing.

One night, while Aemond was sitting in bed with a book, the silence of the room only amplified by his lonely thoughts, he saw Y.N. hovering by the door.

She stood there, lingering, like she had something on her mind, something important to say. Aemond’s heart leapt in his chest, his breath catching as he waited for her to speak.

But then, she hesitated, her eyes flickering with doubt. And just like that, whatever courage she’d gathered seemed to vanish. She turned and walked back to her own room.

Aemond let out a long breath, setting down his book and pressing his palms into his eyes. He let out a muffled scream into his pillow, frustration and longing coursing through him.

He missed her—missed the warmth of her beside him, the softness of her touch. He wanted her back in his bed, back in his life the way she had been before. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let her go.

But now, they were both trapped in this limbo, unwilling or unable to break through the wall that had built up between them.

Aemond carefully changed Jack’s nappy, talking to his son in soft murmurs as he worked. After ensuring everything was secure, he lifted Jack onto his shoulder, rubbing his back in soothing circles. The baby let out a small burp, and Aemond smiled, feeling a surge of affection as Jack relaxed against him.

Just then, Y.N. emerged from her bedroom, dressed nicely with her hair and makeup done. Aemond looked up, momentarily taken aback by how beautiful she looked.

“Where are you going?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

Y.N. adjusted her handbag. “The museum called. They have another piece they want restored. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’ve pumped enough breast milk for Jack. You just need to heat it up.”

Aemond nodded, his breath catching in his throat when Y.N. leaned over him to kiss Jack on the top of his head.

She lingered for a moment, then pressed a soft kiss to Aemond’s cheek. The simple gesture sent warmth through him, and he found himself struggling for words.

As she straightened up and headed for the door, Aemond called out, “Wait.”

She turned, raising an eyebrow. He tossed her his car keys. “Take my car. It’ll be easier for you.”

Y.N. smiled, a brief but genuine expression of gratitude, before she turned and left the penthouse.

Aemond stood there for a moment, holding Jack and watching the door close behind her.

Not long after she left, there was a knock at the door. Aemond, holding Jack in the crook of his arm, opened it to find Alys standing on the threshold.

She was dressed in her usual sharp attire, and Aemond frowned in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone more curt than he intended.

Alys smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I was hoping to have a word with you.”

Aemond hesitated, glancing down at Jack, but against his better judgment, he stepped aside and let her in.

Alys removed her coat, her eyes scanning the penthouse. It looked different from the last time she’d been there—baby accessories scattered across the living room, toys tucked into corners, and the once pristine reading area replaced by Y.N.'s workbench.

“Y.N. is a restoration artist,” Aemond explained, noting her gaze. “Remember I said she works from home sometimes.”

Alys nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “So, you two live together?” she asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.

“We have a child,” Aemond replied, his tone matter-of-fact. “Why wouldn’t we?”

Alys’s lips curled slightly. “Is Y.N. home right now?”

“No,” Aemond said, “-She’s got a meeting at the museum. So, it’s just me and Jack”

At the mention of Jack, Alys's eyes softened as she asked, “Can I hold him?”

Aemond hesitated for a second before nodding. He carefully placed Jack in her arms.

Alys cooed at the baby, her voice a bit too sweet for Aemond's liking. "Oh, Aemond, he’s so precious.”

But as if on cue, Jack suddenly threw up on her, causing Alys to shriek in surprise.

Immediately, Jack began to cry, and Aemond took him back, cradling him in his arms and gently rocking him.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmured, rubbing Jack’s back until the crying subsided.

Alys, meanwhile, stood awkwardly with the mess on her clothes.

Aemond handed her a towel with a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s not his fault,” Alys muttered, dabbing at the sick on her dress as best she could.

Aemond quickly changed Jack into fresh clothes and placed him in his bouncy chair, where the baby gurgled happily.

 “You’re a good father,” Alys remarked as she sat down.

“I try,” Aemond replied, still feeling the remnants of frustration from her sudden appearance. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“A coffee would be nice,” Alys said with a smile.

Aemond made her a coffee and sat across from her once she had the cup in hand. “So, what did you want to discuss?”

Alys took a sip of her drink before explaining, “I’ve found a couple of properties, both residential and commercial, but I’m having a little trouble securing contacts for my business. I was wondering if you could help me out, just to get started.”

Aemond leaned back in his chair, his expression carefully neutral. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Alys raised an eyebrow. “Because of Y.N.?”

Aemond’s jaw tightened. “I don’t want to complicate matters. Things between us are-strained enough as it is.”

Alys leaned forward smiling, her tone soft but insistent. “It’s just business, Aemond. I’m not here to come between the two of you.”

Aemond considered her words for a moment. “Maybe I can recommend some clients, but I can’t get involved beyond that.”

Alys smiled, satisfied for the moment. “That would be more than enough. Thank you.”

Aemond was on edge the moment Alys left. He paced around the penthouse, wondering how he could possibly tell Y.N. that Alys had been there.

He didn’t want to deceive her, but he knew she wouldn’t be happy once she found out. His thoughts raced as he bathed Jack, making sure he was fed, burped, and finally laid down in his cot.

The baby was swaddled in the soft blanket Helaena had gifted him, with the gentle melody of the dragon mobile filling the room.

Aemond whispered, "Goodnight," kissed his son's forehead, and quietly left, turning on the baby monitor before heading into the living room.

He sat there, nerves eating at him. Every sound made him jump, anticipating Y.N.'s return.

When she finally walked through the door an hour later, her arms laden with files and the brightest smile on her face, it only made Aemond feel worse.

“How was the meeting?” he asked, his voice betraying his tension.

Y.N. placed the files on her workbench, her smile widening. “It went brilliantly! They were so impressed with my work on the statue that they’ve asked me to restore two more pieces.”

“That’s amazing,” Aemond said, his tone genuine despite the knot in his stomach.

“It means I won’t be able to go back to working for Mr. Howlett, though. This commission takes priority, but it’ll make me some good money—and hopefully, lead to more business.”

Aemond nodded, trying to focus on her good news. “You should get business cards made. That way, anyone who wants to hire you can easily get in touch.”

Y.N. smiled, nodding. “That’s a good idea. I’ll look into that.” She paused and glanced around. “How’s Jack been?”

“He’s been fine,” Aemond replied, shifting in his seat. “He’s already down for the night.”

Y.N. seemed pleased. “Good. I think I fancy a drink. I’ll have to pump and dump, but I could really use a glass of wine.” She turned toward the kitchen, her mood light as she reached for a bottle of wine. “Want one?”

Aemond nodded, though his mind was preoccupied. He needed to tell her. The longer he waited, the worse it would be.

But just as he gathered the courage, Y.N. stopped mid-search for the corkscrew, her gaze falling on the sink. A cup sat there with red lipstick on the rim.

She straightened, her voice tight as she asked, “Who was here?”

Aemond swallowed hard. “Now, don’t get mad—”

“Why would I get mad?” she interrupted, already knowing where this was going.

“Alys popped by-”

The bottle of wine hit the counter with a thud as Y.N. turned to face him, her expression shifting from disbelief to fury.

She walked toward him; each step deliberate as Aemond instinctively took a step back.

“That woman was in here?” she demanded, her voice rising.

Aemond nodded, his throat dry. He barely had time to react when Y.N. reached down, pulled off one of her heels, and hurled it at him.

He dodged it, but the second heel came flying at him immediately after.

“How could you let that woman in here?” Y.N. shouted, her face flushed with anger. “You know how I feel about her, Aemond! How could you?!”

Aemond raised his hands, trying to calm her down, but it was no use.

She spotted a folded newspaper on the table, grabbed it, and began swatting him with it.

“You let her in our home, after everything?”

“She wasn’t here for long!” Aemond protested as he managed to snatch the newspaper from Y.N. “She held Jack and—”

“WHAT? You let her hold my son?” screamed Y.N in disbelief.

Aemond sighed in defeat as he handed the newspaper back to her and stood still as she resumed hitting him.

He didn’t try to stop her, knowing he deserved her anger.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally stopped, her breathing ragged as she threw the newspaper onto the floor.

“I’m done,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper but carrying the weight of finality. “I’m moving out. And I’m taking Jack.”

Aemond’s stomach dropped, his heart hammering in his chest. He stepped forward, his voice trembling with desperation. “Y.N., wait—”

“No,” she cut him off, her eyes filled with pain. “I can’t do this anymore. I won’t have her anywhere near my son.”

“She’s not a threat to you or to Jack,” Aemond said, his voice pleading. “It was just business. I—”

“It’s never just business with her, Aemond!” Y.N. snapped, her hands shaking as she brushed her hair out of her face. “She’s after something, and you’re obviously too blind to see it.”

Aemond watched in stunned silence as Y.N stormed into her bedroom, yanking open her drawers and throwing clothes haphazardly into a suitcase.

Panic surged through him, and he followed her, hovering near the doorway, unsure of what to say.

His heart pounded in his chest as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice strained.

Y.N. rounded on him, her eyes blazing with fury. "What does it look like, Aemond? I’m leaving. You can be free to be with your precious Alys now."

His heart dropped at her words. "I don’t want Alys," he said, his voice soft but firm.

Y.N. scoffed, not even bothering to look at him as she continued to shove her things into the suitcase.

"Could’ve fooled me," she muttered bitterly, her movements jerky as she threw more clothes into the pile.

Aemond moved closer, watching helplessly as she angrily packed her belongings. "Stop," he pleaded. "We can talk this out."

Y.N. froze for a moment, her back to him, before she whipped around, her face contorted with a mixture of anger and hurt.

"Talk this out?" she repeated, incredulous. "I’m not playing second fiddle to some old arse geriatric who should be on a register. I refuse to be disrespected like this."

Her words stung, but Aemond tried to keep his composure. "It’s not like that—" he started, but she cut him off.

"Not like that?" she scoffed, yanking another drawer open with so much force it nearly came off the track. "You let her saggy arse into our home, Aemond. You let her hold our son. And now you’re standing here, telling me it’s 'not like that?'"

He reached for her, trying to calm her down, but she brushed past him, throwing more clothes into the suitcase with furious abandon.

"Y.N., it’s late," he said, hoping to appeal to her reason. "You don’t have to do this now. Please, just—"

"I don’t care!" she snapped, her hands trembling as she continued packing. "I’ll get a hotel for the night if I have to. I just need to get out of here."

Aemond ran a hand through his hair, frustration and guilt swirling inside him. "I’m sorry," he said quietly. "I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t mean to hurt you."

“-Your apologise mean shit to me, because as soon as Alys whistles, her loyal dog will come,” said Y.N

“Do not speak to me in that way” snapped Aemond.

“I shall speak to you anyway I please-I’m not afraid of you”.

“Oh really” challenged Aemond, drawing himself to his full height.

“Yes-really, now do yourself a favour, and fuck off back to your grandma-” said Y.N.

“No” replied Aemond sternly.

“Fine. I will take Jack and leave you to your fucking old hag”.

“YOUR NOT FUCKING GOING ANYWHERE” snarled Aemond viciously.

“Going to stop me, are you? How exactly are you going to do that” balled Y.N.

“You will not leave me. You will not take my son” ordered Aemond his lip curling.

"I will and you will never see either of us again" threatened Y.N as she stood against Aemond, her body pressed against his.

"NO, YOU WON'T!"

“What are you going to do about it” snapped Y.N.

“You will not leave me” ordered Aemond.

“Oh, really and why not“ snapped Y.N

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU-”

“What?” squeaked Y.N.

“I FUCKING LOVE YOU” balled Aemond as he lunged forward and pressed his lips to hers.

Y.N ripped herself away from Aemond.

Staring at him in disbelief as she put a hand to her mouth.

The resentment swirling in the pit of her stomach was now morphing into something else. The dormant fire of their relationship was roaring to life once more. Coursing through her body.

One kiss, that was all it took. She needed more. She needed him.

Suddenly Y.N wrapped her arms around Aemond's neck and drew him in back in.

Their kiss was rough and vicious. Consisting of teeth and tongue.

It had been so long since they’d shared any form of intimacy.

Aemond backed Y.N towards the bed, his hands tearing off her clothes until they were a ragged mess on the floor.

It was an eruption of frustration and passion. Hands everywhere, grabbing, scratching, and pulling at one another.

Aemond took a brief minute to yank off his t-shirt before he shoved Y.N on the bed, her back colliding with the mattress with a soft thump.

His body covered hers as he sucked and licked the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Y.N moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

Aemond pulled away to push down his sweatpants and boxers, freeing his hard cock.

Y.N lay back on the bed, her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

Aemond runs his hand up and down the length of himself, eyeing Y.N with an animalistic hunger, a smirk on his lips as she parted her legs for him.

As he guides himself to her entrance, she barely has a moment to adjust before he is quickly pressing his cock inside and stretching her, causing her to cry out.

“FUCKING TAKE IT!” spits Aemond, wrapping a hand around her throat while the other digs into her hip, pulling her aggressively against him to meet each one of his hard thrusts.

Y.N can’t think of anything but the intense pounding thrusts that greet her, causing her to wail and moan, tears form in her eyes, before running down her cheeks.

Aemond sets a brutal pace, his hips crashing into hers, his cock reaching deep inside her.

“YES! YES! AEMOND!” screams Y.N.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond as he feels her cunny clenching around his cock.

As Aemond’s hips begins to falter in their movements, Aemond snakes a hand between their joined bodies, his long fingers expertly circling her pearl, causing heat to bloom across her stomach.

He presses down more firmly, making faster movements against her bud making her shudder, as a sudden warmth crashes over her in waves making her cry out.

“AEMOND!!” screams Y.N as her hands claw at his back.

“Fuck!! baby, that’s it come all over my cock!” growls Aemond as he moves to grab the headboard, bracing himself as he continues to pound his hips against hers.

“I love you. Aemond” gasped Y.N.

With a loud animalistic groan, Aemond stills, his cock pulsating as he spills his seed deep inside her.

TBC

[breached-containment-script]

Some arguments KA shippers make are valid and true. But that they don't necessarily do anything nearly enough to be valid anti-zutara arguments!

Stuff like, that quick burns probably wouldn't scar (Katara's hands) or that if she had gotten scarred, that Toph's feet should have gotten scarred too. This is valid.

That it's true that when Aang's negative aspects get developed to their final extreme forms in theories and fanfiction, it can feel weird and offputting to people who naturally gravitate towards staying approximately around canon vibes; that some descriptions of behaviour sound too strong to some people which results in pushing them away from zutara as a negative reaction to associated criticisms of Aang. But that also personal headcanon developments (even those with strong foundation in canon) are individual preferences and people are able to choose which headcanons to like, without using disliked ones to paint an entire show interpretation negative.

It'a true that most of Aang's bad behaviour in the show can be attributed to him being just a kid and not being self-aware enough yet. He's not intentionally malicious in most cases. His negative reaction towards Water Tribe culture and food is a depiction of a kid not knowing how to respect something that makes him uncomfortable, even if this kinda clashes with him having already had friends from all over the world. Unfortunatey, canon progression doesn't depict him learning as many lessons as he should nor does it show him outgrowing negative traits even though it should have. THIS is the source of headcanons which appreciate intentionally exploring main character developing in a negative light. His negative traits constantly repeat and have a common stay in his canon character. This is a fact, especially with his claim that he'd be in the Avatar state had it not been blocked, out of frustration that actors on a stage implied Katara doesn't feel the same way about him. This is a very bad thing, we've seen both him and others being afraid of it, it causing massive destruction and Katara having the burden of calming him down. How would she theoretically calm him down in the case he did enter the Avatar state because of this reason? Assuming she didn't have romantic feelings for him (which should always exist as a valid option for any character, to test if they have a healthy interaction) - she could pray he'd accept it and calm down on his own, or be under extreme pressure to lie that she likes him back. Even if she did like him back, having to admit under the threat of a destructive force being unleashed, IS NOT GOOD. Especially as the characters never addressed this later.

Yes, Zuko did a lot of bad things but not only are they overblown by KA-fans and Zuko-antis, they constantly purposefully ignore that he got punished repeatedly, suffered in canon for his actions and kept doing very risky and selfless things to make up for his past, they also forget that time flows FORWARD and that WHEN events happened on a timeline MATTERS. It's not an argument that Zuko burned Suki's village in book 1 when he helped rescue her and others by risking his life in book 3 and she forgave him. One thing is collateral damage in a cartoon filled with cartoon violence, and another when for example Long Feng kills Jet. Viewers should be able to discern the tone difference, because shows (or any creative work) especially with multiple writers, aren't homogenous, and aren't tonally or message-wise completely unified. Don't start your deduction argument from the idea that a show is fully consistent and is absolutely sending a singular message, start an inductive analysis from ideas about what a show's context is, what its goals are, what the tone feels like in each section, did it accomplish what it was aiming for, etc. Likewise Zuko could have been written even better in some areas and with more context!

However him hunting down heroes, knocking out Katara etc. isn't a gotcha argument some people think it is, because Katara knocked him out as well, twice even so badly he didn't wake up for quite some time; and he was struck, rejected, ignored, mocked and criticised by both Iroh, the gaang and Katara especially after he sided with Azula under Ba Sing Se, but then they forgave him as he actively worked to atone, and Katara herself forgave him for what he did. She then risked her life to save him back. The writing is very logical and consistent in this.

[mythalism]

what if solas was a spirit of faith?

ok hear me out. i dont 100% prescribe to this theory. most of the evidence we have is in favor of solas being a wisdom spirit, however when i was writing this post i came across something that made me go hm.

now, not everything david gaider says is automatically canon. in fact, david gaider regularly and loudly says a lot of racist, misogynistic, and generally awful things about his own games and characters, so i actually do not respect his opinion at all.

however he was indeed the lead writer for dragon age: inquisition and had input into solas's writing, so i think for him to say this means it was at least something the developers talked about and agreed upon at that time.

the wiki's citation leads to a forum post by gaider from july 2013:

"the corruption of faith is pride".

hm.

also notable is that david gaider is the writer of cassandra, and i bring this up because solas's banters with cassandra are basically the foundation of this, and why i started thinking about it in the first place.

solas is a lot of things. definitely a pride demon. an judgemental jerk, a lot of the time. a "mirror", as his writer puts it. a staunch atheist as well. extremely critical of anyone who claims godhood. and......... strangely respectful of *checks notes* THE MAKER???????

for someone who spends so much time decrying the corruption of false gods, many people have found solas's banter with cassandra to be out of character. and it is pretty jarring when placed in context with the rest of his statements.

remember that spirits embody a particular single virtue, and will do whatever they can to bring it forth in others:

“Spirits are not complex in the sense that they seize upon a single facet of human experience, and this one idea becomes their identity.[3] They are formed as a reflection of the real world and its passions.[10] A spirit embodies and latches onto a specific purpose and will do all in its power to fulfill that purpose. For instance, a hunger demon will attempt to feed on anything it crosses,[4] and a spirit of justice will stop at nothing to uphold its name”

solas, strangely, speaks of cassandra's faith with great respect and even reverence. he mentions her faith several times in their banter, and rather than criticize it as foolish as you might assume from someone who embodies pride, led a rebellion against false gods, and does not hesitate to hold back his judgement when he disapproves of something, solas actively encourages cassandra's continued faith in both the maker and herself.

he tells her that her position, of a seeker of truth (an arm of the templars which he despises?) and right hand of the divine, is "an honorable one and well-earned" and that her presence is a comfort, because there is no lie in what she is:

he outright mentions spirit of faith as gentle spirits that cannot afford to be lost to corruption:

he tells cassandra he is impressed by her faith, after the revelations about the truth of the seekers:

he praises her templar abilities and the maker?????

and, most notably....

when cassandra learns the truth about the seeker vigil and her abilities being borne of a ritual involving a spirit of faith, he tells her...

she should be proud

part of the reason these banters are so confusing and seemingly out of character of solas is due to his comments on the nature of gods, organized religion, and belief at other points throughout the game.

but i believe there is a common thread to them, and that it is not faith that he criticizes, but those who take advantage of it.

some of the best examples of his disgust for one who uses someones faith in them to accrue power are with a low-approval inquisitor. what he hates are those who manipulate faith in others.

solas hates to see faith corrupted by falsity.

but why would he hate such a thing so much? why does he actively encourage cassandra's faith in the maker, while criticizing an inquisitor who used the people's faith in andraste to amass power? well, because it reminds him of the evanuris, of course. but i think there could be more to it than just that.

whatever kind of spirit solas was, we (pretty much) know that he came into being at the behest of mythal according to cole:

we also know that solas was deeply devoted to mythal in the time of elvhenan, and even thousands of years later, he staunchly defends her as someone worthy of his faith, admiration and respect.

he approves of completing her rituals in the temple of mythal:

and greatly disapproves if you do not:

he cannot stand to let morrigan misrepresent her in dialogue (lol):

he even actually refers to her as a goddess at one point, despite often asserting that the ancient elvhen gods were not gods:

and, of course, the way he speaks of her in trespasser is quite literally reverent, as he reveals her murder was the catalyst for his entire rebellion:

could solas have been borne of mythal's faith? of the people's faith in her? of her faith in her people? of her faith in herself? of the People's faith in each other? how does he still have such faith in her after all of these years?

keeping in mind the way a spirit becomes corrupted,

combined with solas's answer to cassandra's question about what he truly believes, to which he answers that he believes in people:

and of course this new mural:

could solas have originally been a spirit of faith, corrupted into pride by the evanuris's abuse of the virtue he embodied? a spirit of faith, borne of mythal's faith in her people, and turned into pride when her people, her own family, betrayed her? when their gods proved false and the only thing left to have faith in was themselves?

as much as i love this and think it fits, it cant be ignored that there is equal, if not more, that suggests he was a spirit of wisdom first. however this is so clearly intentional and satisfying that i dont think it's a coincidence - they're definitely doing something with this. whether or not solas was always Pride and thus he is just drawn towards the two other sides of his coin, wisdom and faith, or if he was one and corrupted into pride, i dont know, but i think faith and the manipulation of it to evil ends will continue to be integral to his story.

[not-goldy]

Jungkook really needs Jimin near him always. It's crazy how much he seems to want Jimin.

That white day live JK did and the live that Tae started when Jk said he was feeling lonely so he asked in group if anyone can come and so Tae & Hobi stopped by... those 2 lives still make me sad. I just wanted so bad for Jimin to be there with JK then.

Jimin is his person. I don't think there's no point to denying that at all. They can't claim he hates Jimin I one breath and in the next try to justify why they have such great chemistry why they both seem so happy around eachother why they have all these future plans to do a whole lot of things together.

And I love AYS because this time no one is trying to replicate their dynamic or trying to have them do the same things with others just so it seems it's a group vibe and not just those two.

I wrote a post some time back about how those two were a unit within a unit and people attacked me saying BigHit wasn't going to let that happen blah blah blah

Well it's happening now what.

I'm just glad we got to see Jungkook calm a bit down and allow himself to be free and loving to give and recieve love.

I think in a perfect world those two wouldn't mind being their own island

But life gets real and it does and can take a toll on their relationship.

I'm happy for them ☺

[wraithdance]

The TF 141 Compatibility Love Report

For: @buttdumplin

Disclaimer:

This is based on my personal opinion and interpretation of you and the character.  the user makes no claims to be a real doctor or any medical professional. Unfortunately for you I am but a figment of your imagination so you can't sue me. *scary ghost noises* whoooooo

The Doc says your TF 141 Perfect Match is…

Captain John Price!

Don't act surprised my friend, it's time to face the music!

Romance: You like em big. You like em tall. You like em loyal. You damn sure like em a lil bossy with a firm grip and a propensity to calling you some combination of sweet boy and love :)

You and John are the most compatible to me by a landslide. You're cut from the same cloth, both self assured about the things that matter to you and loyal to a fault. The difference is one of you has a raging size kink and I'm not looking at Price. The mountain also known as Captain would be the partner who stands firm at your side with a guiding hand. There would be no greater- or worthwhile -challenge for him than staying in your good graces. He's naturally a giver and would make your comfort a priority for him. He's also not afraid to do the heavy lifting and will not hesitate to bust a jaw for you as long as you're there to kiss his knuckles after.

John and you would not be without your ups and downs. You're both naturally headstrong and when you do find yourself on opposite sides of an argument it's one for the books. He'd be frustrated by your logic and sense of justice and you by his bull in the china shop technique to getting the job done. But it's okay, because like a tether the string of fate would lead you right back where you started. Reading books under a nice tree, domestic tasks made intimate by cracking teasing jokes about his bad back, drinks on the patio pointing out the stars. A once in a lifetime love affair.

Sex: Let's circle back to that size kink shall we. Price would love, that you love his height and the broadness of his shoulders. He'd also love that you love when he can't wait to bully you into that position where he can slide righttttttt there. If there's one thing that you both would be consistently on the same page about it's fucking. You two would be like teammates on the same field, quickly going over the game plan and executing with perfection. I think he'd like it if you bossed him around a lil bit in bed. he'd certainly take it until you've gotten your fill before he says 'my turn' and flips your world on it's axis. His favorite though would be the really lazy days where you're both just looking for connection, half fucking and laughing about your day and kissing each other tenderly :')

Possible points of Contention:

He doesn't understand the fun in DnD

Hides his hurt behind gruff one liners

Beard shed like a goddamn poodle

Your Poly Pairing (haha) is….

PriceRudy or (Pricegaz)- What? A weird obscure poly pairing?? Hear me out, I think you'd work for the awkward but efficient Sergeant Major of Los Vaqueros! He's a boy scout who needs a lil bit of teasing and in return you get to see him flustered and heart eyed over you. I can also see Gaz in a poly pairing with you and Price for similar reasons that we've already extensively yapped about lol. Either Gaz or Rudy's attentive and self assured nature would please you and they would flow well with Price's seasoned methodology to keep the love going. I think having the shared cultural connection with Rudy would be a safe space for you in this poly pairing (and being able to gang up on Price would be an added plus.)

[fae-morrigan]

Someone put a post (where they admit they straight up dont know these characters lol, and also spell damian as 'damien' so like. yknow.) in the tags saying that if you're a fan of Jon & Jay, you shouldn't buy super son. Well, as the crowned CEO of Jay & Jon, I'm here to tell you guys that you absolutely should.

Super Son did the amazing thing of hitting several marks that I predicted while still managing to surprise me in how they hit them. Which is high praise for any story: A great narrative should be able to both meet reasonable audience expectations (i.e, staying in character, setup payoff) WHILE STILL throwing in curveballs that tell you something new.

There's a lot I want to analyze and get into, namely how I think the rooftop conversation between Jon & Nia is really brilliantly done in what it says about both characters, but mainly I've been thinking a lot about how great those last few pages were and how I think Sina absolutely nails how Jon & Jay's specific issues interact with each other.

Jay's always been a blunt person. From their first meeting back in SOKE 2, hes said what he thinks, and rarely does he try and soften himself. More than that, his bluntness is often a shield from vulnerability, which Jay struggles with the whole scene. It makes total sense, after what hes experienced (re-traumatization at the hands of a friend) that he's displaying that trait again.

Jon, however, is immediately vulnerable. This is the most poignant confession of the issue: Not even in the amazing sequence of Nia helping him make a place in the darkness (look, its back, thanks isabel!) do we get this admission of fear.

And Jay, like always, embraces him. Sidenote, LOVE how they got in the thing Jon does where he's constantly tucking his face in people's shoulders during hugs.

But the moment ends, and we get here. First of all, cold af. I could feel the aura before I turned the page.

Second of all: Jay is totally valid in feeling this way. And it makes perfect sense that he would.

Sara was his everything. Getting her back was one of his main motivations in SOKE. Because of Nia's actions, she died horribly (do you know what happens to a person when they fall from that sort of height? I do. Its AWFUL.) for an unjust cause. Of course he's glad she can't hurt anyone else!

And that's when we get to my FAVORITE PART! Oh how I love this bit. Because like. You understand why Jon's angry- Its a harsh thing for Jay to say! Nia was the one who kept him sane while he was trapped in his own mind! But Jay, like always, is RIGHT: Jon DOESN'T get it. How could he?

Jon Kent will NEVER, ever, be put in this position. Out of universe, his parents are Clark Kent and Lois Lane. They'll ALWAYS come back. Hell, the fact they'll always come back is something Ma LITERALLY says to Jon in SOKE. He will never, ever have to know this pain.

In universe, Jon's a white american. Despite being queer, despite being an alien, he'll never know what its like to be this kind of collateral, delegated as pawns in a greater war for 'freedom'. That is what killed Sara at the end of the day: imperialism.

This next bit hurts my heart. Great job, guys!

For one: Jon claims he's not excusing the mistakes Nia made, but by downplaying it like this... yes he is. But did you catch that part? Right at the start of that bubble?

"I'm going to fight every day to make up for my own part in this."

That's where it clicked for me. Something I had been hoping for since Nicole first called them twin flames.

He's projecting.

Of COURSE he's defending Nia. Of COURSE he wants Jay to forgive her. It isn't just about the fact that she gave him support, it isn't just the dreams, its the fact that... well. If Jay can't forgive her... how could he EVER forgive HIM?

THIS is where the fact that Jon and Nia are so similar as character SINGS. They become mirrors to each other, evaluating their own self worth through the other, at the unintentional expense of the people they've hurt.

Jay's right, though. Again. Its almost like he's the embodiment of the truth or something. He doesn't HAVE to do anything.

When he starts crying though, I immediately was RUINED. This is the first time we have EVER seen him cry before during his entire existence of a character. And its not really even because his mom is dead (though yes, that) and its not even because of the argument. Its because Jay fundamentally wants to be understood, and he's not getting that.

Which is important for the next bit:

I want to first backtrack a bit to Son of Kal El again, specifically, issue fourteen, right here.

Hello, two-panel sequence that succinctly describes these two as characters. How convenient you are for me, a guy analyzing a work that isn't written prose.

Jon isn't good at letting go, for better or for worse. The things he cares about stay with him, and when something or someone tries to exit his life, he clings to them with all his might.

Jay however, both selflessly and selfishly, is willing to let go first if he thinks its better for the other person. To me this line so effortlessly summarizes who Jay is- he's a person who's accustomed to not having things, and will leave before it hurts and he gets too attached.

And that thought is ALL over this scene. Jay, who begins to let go, Jon, who both literally and physically CLINGS to jay, practically begging him to stay.

(Sidenote. This is like, the third time Jay mentions breaking up when Jon starts acting up. Good for you king, keep that white boy on his toes, let him know he ain't all that.)

Every little detail of this four panel sequence is killing me. "My worst nightmare is not having a home with you in it." His greatest desire. The thing that kept tipping him off in every fake reality Nia constructed for him- Jay's absence. Him wiping the tear of Jay's cheek. Jay walking away from him.

But what really gets me is how on this page, Jon talks about them as 'we', while Jay is firmly stuck in 'I.'

This is what made me LOSE MY MARBLES at three in the morning. Just utterly fucking off my rocker in a straightjacket talking to myself.

Because this is what JON wants. But is it what JAY wants?

Jon never asks.

What about what Jay fears? What about the life that HE wants? What if he doesn't want San Francisco? What if the life he wants is the life he HAD before everything went wrong? Jon outright says he wants a fresh start. But Jay, Jay's someone with such deep connections to what he just lost, what he likely WANTS to get back. His country. His mother. His sense of self. But. He says yes.

(Sidenote. FIRST I LOVE YOU WOOOOOOOOOO) To quote my buddy Dami: Oh, the drama of needing a future with someone who can't get over the past.

It is left unclear, by the end, whether or not Jay is saying yes to this because he genuinely wants to, or if he's only saying yes because he doesn't want to lose Jon, too. Jon doesn't stop to question whether or not Jay's only reaching after him because Jon's walking away. We, the audience, are left to ponder that for ourselves.

How much of Jay saying yes is him just accepting that this is the best he's going to get? That he's never going to be understood because nobody wants to understand?

He's an afterthought to Nia, an obstacle at best, and to Jon he's a particularly handsome prop in this little fantasy he has of running away and starting new. He's either not thought of at all, or when he is thought about, it's in the context of how he can emotionally fulfill the other person And you get why Jon did this. He's desperate, he's hurting, he just got tangible evidence that the time he has with the people he loves isn't ever guaranteed. He's been needing space from Clark and Lois for MONTHS because god knows they haven't been fulfilling his emotional needs. In a very real sense, Jay is who he has.

But wanting someone to stay with you so much that you'll... Not even ignore, but just not ever consider what they may want. The intentional isolation, moving halfway across the country away from all support systems. The need to cling to someone.

It reminds me of... something. Someone.

Don't tell Jon I made this comparison. He'll kill himself. Jon and Ultraman ARE similar. They're both such deeply lonely people who cling very tightly and even though it manifests in different ways and even though they have different core thoughts about it. The effect at the end of the day is the same, isn't it?

Is loving Jay not a brutal act of destruction?

There's so many more details about this story I love. Jon & Nia's conversation being vague enough that you have no idea how Jon meant what he told her but you KNOW how NIA took it (girl you can do better hes literally ugly!). Jon breaking a pillar by bonking his head against it (LMFAO). The pretty lies vs ugly truth dichotomy of Jay vs Nia here.

But this one scene, man. This one fucking scene takes the cake. STELLAR work all around. Every panel counts.

This better lead into a full Superman & Gossamer run or SOMETHING or I'm going to have WORDS with DC's editorial staff.

[onlylove4louis]

Armands decision to keep Lestats "I love you" from Louis, in 2x05 was a violation of both Louis' agency and his right to choose... and here's why:

-- Before I get into this one, which should not be one of my long ones, but we'll see how it goes. I wanted to preface this by letting anyone reading this know, I am sick. Have been sick, and while I was going to wait to make any more posts, till I was feeling better... I have been having a great discussion with @faithandfairies in the comment section of one of their posts, off and on for a few days now. And there's something that we just got to, that I just commented there about, that then of course started my mind spinning about. And I was going to try and get some rest, but I can't stop thinking about it, so I figured why not make a quick post.

This is the scene in question (we all know it): I will be putting it under the cut, for those who don't do well with gore and/or body-horror.

TRIGGER WARNING!!

So in this scene Armand all but tells Louis that he means to abandon him, leave him to his pain and misery and suicidal ideation... but he claims, as a one last "act of service" to Louis

(is how I feel about THAT)

He's going to contact Lestat for him and act as essentially a phone cord, between the two... Now, there are so many things I can talk about, with this one scene in this episode, alone. This one singular moment. BUT seeing as how this post is for one main aspect about it, we're shelving everything else, including Lestats words, and focus on the point of this post; How and why Armand refusing to relay the 'I love you' to Lestat, was so wrong... Now, we're ignoring the fact that it's very possible this part of the conversation was not actually said. Seeing as how if Armand didn't choose to relay it to Louis, then we don't really know how Louis heard this part of it. And therefore have no actual confirmation that this is something that was said... For the sake of this post, we're assuming that it was. - And just as an added comment, I cannot for the life of me fully understand how people manage to feel sorry for, and sympathetic for Armand here. While he's doing something so horrifically cruel, to Louis. But I digress...

The fact of the matter is, Armand did not have the right to keep that information, from Louis. It was not his information to withhold. He had no right to make this choice for Louis, and in doing so completely take away Louis choice in what to do with it, how to respond. Because what he accomplishes here, in that one act (in the phonecall itself to be fair) is taking away Louis' agency. So @faithandfairies did make a point, in that at this time Armand is in fact Louis' partner. And being his partner he knew that relaying that information almost certainly would have brought these two back together. And that it's understandable, essentially, that under that circumstance, he wouldn't want to do that. Which is a fair point, I will give them that. But to that I say, that was still not Armands "right", it's not his place. My 2nd point in that conversation was that if Armand was not willing to relay the message, in it's entirety, then he should not have made this call. Especially under the prior circumstance and reason given for the call, being that this was something he was doing FOR Louis, something he was GIVING TO Louis. And that he would then be leaving him, and this relationship, presumably forever. If he actually wasn't willing to do, what he claimed he meant to do, then he should not have done it at all. Period. - I wanted to pull that to the front, for this post. And let the other point(s) I made, come after.

Now getting to the real heart of this... It doesn't matter what relaying those words would have meant to Louis. It doesn't matter what Louis did with that knowledge, how he responded or reacted. That would have been Louis' choice. And should have been a choice that he had every right, to make... If Armand was/is free to CHOOSE to leave Louis, in these horrific circumstances, where Louis has arguably never been in more need of actual help (at least since being entombed). If Armand had the right to make that choice, for himself, in complete disregard of Louis. Then Louis should have every right to make the choice, to then leave Armand for Lestat. Because Louis should have just as much freedom to leave this relationship FOR ANY REASON, that Armand does.

What Armand does in this moment, by withholding knowledge that was meant for Louis and Louis alone, is taking away Louis' option to choose. Specifically, what to do with this knowledge and/or how he wants to react to it... And by removing the possibility of that choice, is therefore violating Louis agency in their relationship. By controlling, and taking away his "freedom", to make the choice to leave it. And that's only assuming that Louis would have actually done exactly that. That's something Armand had no way of actually knowing, and we now never will know...

(which of course is then only further cemented, by erasing the entire interaction from Louis' memory).

Now, the example I used was that imagine this: Imagine if your partner answered your phone, or just a phonecall meant for you. And say takes a message for you, but then chooses to either not give you the message at all. Or to only give you a part of that message. Would you that be okay to you?... And then I went on to actually use an example from the show F.R.I.E.N.D.S:

For those of you who haven't watched Friends, or just don't remember it... I believe it's Season 9 Episode 9; Rachel & Ross are in a rather unhealthy relationship dynamic, where they're living together but not actually together, and while Ross very much hopes to get back with Rachel. She is trying to move on and see other people. Pheobe takes her out, they meet some guys, Rachel gives one of the guys her phone number. When Rachel is out, the guy does end up calling, but Ross is there to receive the call. And takes a message. When he realizes what the message ultimately was, and what it meant for him and the possibility of them never getting back together, he throws the message away. Rachel later, upon wondering why the man never called her, finds out that he did, and confronts Ross to demand to know WHY she did not get that message. The get into a big fight, where Rachel is genuinely truly hurt, it is made VERY clear that Ross was in the wrong. It degrades their relationship even further, and if I'm not mistaken, leads to her promptly moving out... Now the point of using this as an example, regardless of the differing situation, reason and circumstances. Is that the reason Rachel was so enraged and hurt. Is because it was a violation. Ross did not have the right to take that choice or option away from her, he did not have the right to decide for her whether she moved on from him, or not. Regardless of how it effected him, or what her possible choice might have meant for him. It was not his right, or his place to do what he did. And take that choice from her.

And it's the same thing here. Armand being so willing and able to do that, in that moment. And finding absolutely no fault in it. I a direct violation, and shows that he does not see Louis as having any agency in their relationship. I.E he can make the choice to leave, even if it affects or impacts Louis negatively, but Louis can not. He has the "right" to make choices for Louis, but Louis ultimately cannot be allowed, to make choices for himself. And in this moment, with this one action, Armand makes it very clear that he was very willing to take the choice of simply leaving the relationship, away from him. By way of manipulating possibly outcomes and circumstances, to remove the option itself. So not only did he take that choice away from Louis in that moment, but by then erasing it from his mind all together. He removes the possibility of Louis finding it out and being able to react/respond to even that, of his own free will.

The sheer violation of this, and the fact that Armand felt he had every right and was justified in doing this, is just... I don't even know what to call it...

(Now... back to bed for me)

[sweetiesicheng]

the8 - after school

word count : 552

-

you hurry across the street as the crosswalk sign begins to signal that it'll change soon and make it to where your nephew goes to school. as you rush to the front gates, you see a few parents and relatives picking up their kids.

when you make it to the gates, you find a few students waiting in the front school yard just behind the gates. you look around for a bit before finding your nephew.

"n/n!" you call out to him.

he turns around and starts running towards you. "auntie y/n!" he says in excitement. he makes it to you and gives you a big hug. "i haven't seen you in forever!" he claims to you.

you smile and crouch down a bit, "well, you get to hang out with auntie today," you say to him.

"yay!" he cheers, "this is awesome!"

"tell you what, we can go out somewhere before we go to auntie's house, okay?" you say to him, "you just have to promise me that you'll do your homework when we get to my house."

n/n nods, "i promise." both of you hold out your pinky fingers and link them together. "don't break it!" he says to you.

you laugh, "you're the one who can't break it. i don't have homework."

"excuse me?" you look up when you hear someone speak to you. "l/n y/n?" the person speaks in confusion.

it doesn't take long for you to remember him, "xu minghao?" you question. "wait, are you a teacher?" you ask him and stand up straight.

he smiles at you, "yea, i am," he answers. "wow, it's nice to see you again," he adds.

"mr. xu, do you know my auntie?" n/n asks, clearly curious.

minghao looks at him and nods, "we went to school together," he answers, "a long time ago."

"we went to school together when me and your mom moved here," you say to n/n.

"wow," your nephew says in amazement, making you and minghao laugh.

you look at minghao, "are you his teacher?" you ask him.

he nods, "i'm his home room teacher. they just started rotating teachers this year. i hear he's a very good student from all of the other teachers."

"auntie, i'm one of the smartest!" n/n says to you.

"is that so? i'm sure it's because of mr. xu and your other teachers," you say to him and pat his head.

"and because of mommy! she's smart too!" n/n says with a giant smile. "don't tell dad i said that," he adds in a loud whisper and you nod.

"got it," you reply to him with a thumbs up. you look at minghao again, "i should take him home," you say.

"oh, yea. maybe i'll see you again," minghao says to you.

"my number is still the same if you want to meet up," you say to him, earning a smile from him.

"alright. thanks," he says. "bye n/n. have a good day with your auntie," he says to your nephew.

"bye mr. xu!" n/n says and tugs your hand. "auntie y/n, let's get ice cream!"

you laugh and start walking with him, "okay, but don't rat me out to your mom again. she'll get so mad."

"yes ma'am!"

[wheneverfeasible]

Historical omegaverse au idea(s) I may never write but by the gods do I want to

I’m gonna be honest. I’ve been reading a couple historical omegaverse fics (specifically here and here) and I also watched The Nun II recently and idk. Ignoring the demon/horror aspect, I just kind of got caught with the idea of rural boarding school teacher and the lowly grounds worker there. With o!Steve as the teacher and a!Eddie as the groundskeeper of course.

~

Picture it. Steve has “adopted” Max (I know, I know, it’s usually Dustin, but since Claudia isn’t going to be in the final season, I just can’t stand to get rid of her and Max makes the most sense for needing a new guardian) but according to paperwork to keep Max safe, they have lied and said that Max is biologically his. Perhaps him taking her in was one of the reasons why his high society family has disowned him and now he’s a vaguely destitute teacher that he only got the job of because his friend Robin (who teaches foreign language obvi) vouched for him. His being a teacher there allows Max to attend classes, though some of the snootier kids are assholes about it.

Anyways, Eddie works the grounds with his uncle, both also quite destitute but they have a good thing going there, though they are always treated poorly by the rich children there. The exceptions are of course the Wheeler child, the Sinclair children, and the Henderson child, as well as their friends the Hopper-Byers children who are there on scholarship. This is the group that welcomes Max into their fold eventually too.

Eddie of course thinks Steve is a bit too snooty when he first lays eyes on him, but then quickly realizes Steve isn’t like that at all. (Steve meanwhile thinks Eddie is uncouth until realizing he’s actually quite gentle and sensitive.) As well, if he has a child at such a young age, Eddie realizes that Steve must have had her probably around his first heat right after presenting. This is a belief everyone holds, and one Steve and Max actively encourages to prevent them taking Max away from him, but it does lead to them both being look down upon frequently and has ruined all prospects for Steve.

There’s obviously lots of pining, plenty of misunderstandings, and lots of Robin and Wayne and Max watching these two idiots dance around each other and face palming. Robin is of course the only one who knows the truth about Max because Robin knew Steve before he was disowned, and knew about Max’s past too. Maybe, just maybe, Steve rescued her from an abusive household. A violent stepfather, an abusive stepbrother, an alcoholic mother…maybe Steve helps her escape and leaves his past life behind.

MAYBE the reason Steve and Max crossed paths was because the Hargroves and the Harringtons were in talks of an arranged match between a!Billy and Steve. Steve didn’t want it, saw how miserable Max was, and basically kidnapped Max (with her consent) and ran away with her to give them both a chance at a better life.

Which is why, after Eddie and Steve finally start to make their moves, the climax of the story angst begins where Billy has found them (maybe Neil is dead idk and Billy took over managing the family), claiming Steve belongs to him and offering to drop all kidnapping charges if he returns quietly with Max. Eddie learns the truth about Max’s parentage then, and Steve’s past, and the whole lot of them come up with a solution that I don’t know what it is yet.

Maybe Steve sacrifices himself and agrees to return and mate with Billy only if Max can stay with her new friends and Robin and for the Hargroves forget about her existence. Billy would eventually accept this. Maybe while Steve and Billy are set to return home, Eddie rushes to prevent their departure and challenges Billy to a duel or something.

Blah blah blah Eddie wins of course and Steve and Max get to stay and Steve officially adopts her, and he and Eddie finally get together and knock boots. And Steve and Eddie love Max as their own and eventually give her a younger sibling which she then fears they’ll love more than her and worries Steve will regret adopting her but obviously that’s not true and Steve and Eddie make sure she knows that she is theirs in all ways. Their first child, no matter what.

Anyways yeah. Maybe one day I’ll do the research necessary for this. Also when I have time to devote myself to this story in its whole. Definitely deserves at least 50k I feel. And I sadly just don’t have time for that right now.

THAT BEING SAID.

I also really adore the idea of teacher Eddie and groundskeeper Steve, because I love reversing tropes and I love making Steve work with his hands in a lowly position, especially if he used to be from a “proper” family, but then the plot would definitely change some. Steve could honestly remain as the omega in this situation too, or switch it up and make him the alpha. Probably get rid of the parent aspect, unless perhaps it’s post-divorce Susan who has become an alcoholic and Eddie did actually officially adopt her because they had been neighbors or something before he moved for a better life.

OR Steve is the teacher but the above about Max and Eddie is still true and she can only attend the school because he’s the groundskeeper which still causes issues with the popular rich kids. And Steve is the teacher who takes a shining to her. Not sure what the main drama aspect would be then. Maybe Eddie is framed for something and is being sent away from the school or arrested or something, and Steve & Co. prove his innocence.

~

Idk. So many options. My issue with aus is that I also come up with aus of aus because I can’t decide how most I would love things to go which then makes it difficult to actually write anything 😂

-

If anyone else wants to use any of these ideas in the meantime, feel free! Just tag credit and link the fic so I can read it!

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Hostage tags: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump