#while also filled with this dread of finding the right person

[poopylumpkins]

I finally watched this movie, it hit me so hard.

I’d been listening to the soundtrack for a while, as a bad habit, I tend to listen to movie soundtracks before watching the source material—and I’m really into Yeule’s music—so I discovered the movie thru the release of their featured song in the movie.

I finally gave it a chance and, wow.

Huge tangent under the cut <3

I’m nonbinary. I’m afab. This movie resonated with me so much.

Making this discovery was a hard one, it was like I’d opened Pandora’s Box.

One of my other (dearest) friends had come out as nb when we were younger and it scared me, it was something I was aware of but pushed away in fear of discovery. Same with my lesbian identity. But the TV kept glowing, I wouldn’t lose them over my own cowardice. Eventually I realized I was lesbian, I’d realized I was trans.

Sometimes I feel connected to womanhood, to my femininity.

For the sake of others, I sacrifice my otherness for their comfort. I go by all pronouns because I’m afraid of dropping “she” from everyone else’s mind. I go by they/she in public spaces where I feel safe enough to do so, but at home, I’m still just a woman, I’m still “her”. Only that.

And it’s difficult reconciling this when I do dress femininely, when I let my friends call me woman. Even when I do that to myself, because I am, paradoxically, as I am not. I don’t know, gender is hard. I present as a woman to a lot of people, so I have experiences socialized as such.

Not to tote any weird superiority complexes, but I like the way God is described in the bible. “I am that I am.” The image of everyone, man, woman, otherwise, all simultaneously.

I feel maybe it’s like that for me, with womanhood. I am woman, I am something else. I like masculine terms for myself sometimes. Sometimes it feels like an empty space. Like [Owen] described it on the bleachers to [Maddy]. I severely hate overly gendered conversation. As a transmasc person, I do like dude and bro but yk even that gets tiresome.

“Yes, Girl.”

“Queen.”

“Miss.”

Only my closest friends call me by “they/them” pronouns, even then, I let it slip when they don’t get it right. But they know me for who I am beyond the screen, and I do just go by any pronouns. But we’re also just used to pushing that away in the eyes of others who don’t see the screen glowing.

In I Saw The TV Glow, Owen and Isabel are parallels to each other (because they are one and the same), they’re both too cowardly for confrontation, Isabel realizes she’s dying [as Owen] and apologizes for the sake of others’ comfort, at the end of the movie, at the outburst her realization causes.

The ending is left up to interpretation, whether she buries herself in the ground with Tara, or she continues to die, living a life as someone fake.

I like to remain hopeful, optimistic. Though, “there is still time,” might read as a warning—you still have time, but it will run out eventually—I see it as a message of hope for those of us who can’t explore our gender identities as freely as others. An eventuality.

During the wire breakage scene, where [Owen] finds herself stopped in the road—where she finds the burning papers of the episode guides, she reads “S06:e01” I like to think that that is where the movie ends and her true life begins. She does break out of the midnight realm.

She doesn’t continue to cower away, though she is wont to do. She opened her chest up and saw her missing heart, saw the “Pink Opaque,” and ran back to Tara, leaving this world behind, and saving face with her apologies.

..

This movie also filled me with existential dread.

When [Owen] watched the finale’s tape, when she launched her head into the tv and mourned the fact that her father wasn’t really her father—a foreboding, looming figure representing prominent patriarchal ideals—when she told us about how it was “time to become a real man,” when her father died, further burying herself into this life that wasn’t hers with a family that wasn’t either—it was terrifying.

We never see that family she had onscreen, and the mention of them makes [Owen] look so defeated. She watches the “Pink Opaque” again and it isn’t as she remembers. Just as Mr. Melancholy said would happen.

“Soon you won’t even remember that you’re dying.”

Whole movie was such a harrowing, representative experience. I sobbed. I mourned. It was like mourning for a past me, for the parts of myself that must stay hidden, for covering the screen.

And the fact that Tara was relatively butch in her real life, but was an awkward girl experimenting with her feminine expression up until she realized she had to escape in the Midnight Realm. I felt connection to her expression as much as I did Isabel’s egg crack.

They were so lesbians for each other, too, be it in a qpp sense or in another way.

…

Here I am listening to the OST again, replaying Yeule’s cover of “Anthems for a 17-year-old Girl,” on my 20th birthday (oh yeah that’s today) and just.. feeling such a frenzy of emotions.

Ultimately, just—

There will still be time. You’ll bury the you that isn’t authentic in the ground and rise as your truest form eventually. There will always be eventually. There will always be you..

I will be there waiting for me.

But I know that's not true. That's just fantasy. Kid's stuff.

I SAW THE TV GLOW (2024) dir. Jane Schoenbrun

[awakefor48hours]

Thinking about Inside Job again and I just got so sad. I think if there's any show out there that really shows how much streaming services have failed the modern TV experience, it's Inside Job.

Inside Job was very popular, had 79% on Rotten Tomatoes/91% audience score, already had more seasons green lit but then out of nowhere, yet Netflix cancelled it and didn't even have the decency to share why.

Aside from that, Inside Job had so much potential. It's a show that's not only a satire about conspiracy theories, it's also a great commentary about racism and sexism in not just the workplace but in the government. I acknowledge that that show had problems but it was only one season and still has so much more room to figure itself out.

[2tcs]

Day 3: reunions after a long time and rain

“Hay Bruce?” Duke asked as he walked out of the locker room. It was the end of his shift, thank god, so everyone was getting ready for the night shift.

“What's going on chum?”

“My cousin is coming to Gotham for a senior field trip thing next week to visit Gotham U and I was wondering if he and his friends can stay at the manor so they don’t have to pay for a hotel.”

“We’ll have to run a background check on them” “Already done!” Duke interrupted Bruce and jumped around him to get to the batcomputer to open up the files.

“Hmm. You really want your cousin to visit huh.” Bruce said as he scanned through the files.

“Ya. I haven’t seen him in ages and even though we text it’s not the same as an in-person visit. And Gotham isn’t safe for tourists so, manor.”

“Mhm, Duke?”

“Yes, Bruce?”

“Why are his and his friends' hometown labeled as unconfirmed?”

“Well, that may be one of the reasons I thought it would be a good idea for everyone to meet them? I know Tucker lives in Amity Park, Illinois. I’ve even visited him there when we were kids. But when I tried to look it up for the background check I couldn’t find it. It’s like it never existed. When I tried to ask him about it he kinda dodged my question and changed the subject. Like he was nervous about someone overhearing.”

“Alright. I’ll inform Tim about their hometown and see if he can find out what’s going on. Make sure you tell Alfried that we are having guests.”

“Thank you so much Bruce! I’ll go tell Alfried right now. Night!” Duke yelled as he ran to the elevator.

👻🦇👻🦇

“Tucker! Over here!” Duke yelled as Tucker and his friends got off the bus.

“Duke! It’s good to see you! How have you been?” Tucker said as he ran up to Duke and gave him a side hug while using his free hand to point. “This is Danny and Sam. Danny, Sam. This is my cousin Duke.”

“It’s nice to meet you guys. Tucker’s told me a lot about you two.” Duke said as he accepted handshakes from Sam then Danny.

“It’s nice to meet you too Duke. Hopefully, Tucker has told you only the worst of things about us.” Sam joked.

“Of course. Hay, did you really switch out all the frogs in your freshman biology class with robot frogs?”

“Don’t remind me. Those things were so creepy. They talked to you as you cut them open.” Danny said with a disgusted face.

“It was more humane than dissecting living animals.” Sam defended herself.

“Wait. The frogs were alive? Tucker! Why was your school using living frogs instead of cadaver frogs?” Duke asked in shock.

“I got no clue man. Anyways, do we need to call a cab to get to your place? Cause I’m not walking in this downpour.” Tucker said while looking around.

“Hold on right there Mr Foley. You all need to sign these forms so we can get ahold of you in case of an emergency.” Mr Lancer said as he walked up to the group with several papers. “And I would also like to speak to your guardian before my students leave so I know they are in safe hands.”

“Ahem. I’m afraid Master Wayne is occupied with work right now but I am his butler, Alfred Pennyworth and I am in charge of taking care of all the needs of the Wayne family and their guests. If need be here is the main phone number for the manor as well as the address. Is there anything else I can do to ensure you of your students’ safety?” Alfred said as he seemingly appeared out of thin air and handed Mr Lancer a business card with the aforementioned information written on the back.

“Thank you for this Mr Pennyworth. My name is Lenard Lancer. As the vice principal of Casper High School, I have a duty to the students of our school. So I will still need these three to fill out these forms before they leave.”

“Of course Mr Lancer. I fully understand. Now if you all would please finish with the paperwork, we can load into the car and get out of this dreadful weather.” Alfred said watching as Danny, Sam, and Tucker traded off on using each other's backs to fill out the forms and hand them back to Mr Lancer.

[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Until I Found You [Teaser]

Pairing: prince!Yeosang x princess!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Summary: It had been a while since Lady Park's firm rejection, and the fourth prince was beginning to believe he would never get over her. Though the heartbreak had made him more mature, one thing remained unchanged: his stubborn reluctance to marry. Convinced he would never find someone who could understand his pain as deeply as the general's wife, he was unprepared for the surprise life had in store for him—one that came in the form of a foreign princess.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 1

"Look at me, princess. This is not a question, it's an order," your father, the King of Ruhon, commanded, his gaze steely and unyielding despite your tear-filled eyes. You were bewildered; you were merely the daughter of a concubine. It was usually only princesses born from the Queen who had to marry for the nation's sake.

"But Father—" you fell to your knees, prepared to beg for mercy.

He snarled, "No buts! Your sisters are too young for this. Her Majesty and I have deliberated long and hard. You're the only one fit for the task. You'll do well to make your mother proud. I know you're upset about leaving her behind, but you're a princess, and you know what that means. Your sacrifice will save Ruhon…"

Yes, from your reckless decisions.

If only he hadn't rashly launched a sudden attack on Joseon, none of this would have happened. Peace would have prevailed, and you wouldn't have to be offered as a pawn in the war he instigated. You weren't stupid; he was giving you up because this was a deal with the enemy. The Queen's daughters were too precious to be sent away.

"Oh, come now, my daughter. Just be grateful you aren't marrying the dreadful fourth prince of Joseon. I'm sure their ruler still has some conscience. You'll be fine."

Easy for you to say, Father...

Surprise! We're finally here~ the moment you've all been waiting for HAHA I know Yeosang's spinoff is one of the most highly anticipated ones. It's also one of my personal favourites, so I'm super excited to share this story with all of you lovelies!

Like always, I'll try my hardest to get the first part out as soon as I can! And as usual, let me know your thoughts on the concept! <3

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@chickenscoups

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[nyoomfruits]

osctober day five

prompt: teacher pairing: charles/oscar word count: 900

“Seriously, Ames?” Oscar says, when he rounds the corner and finds her sitting on a chair just outside the classroom.

“It was for love, dad!” Amelia exclaims, jumping up when she sees him. “I can’t just not do it if it is for love.”

Oscar has conflicting opinions on that. It is, sweet, of course. He’s glad Amelia still believes in the concept of love at all, seeing as her own father is so completely shit at it. But like. He really wishes she would stop hosting flashmobs. Or serenades. Or that time she and that boy from her Spanish class that was really good at programming tried to make a matchmaking app.

“Right, yeah,” Oscar says, ruffling her hair. She’s too old for that now, and he knows he only gets away with it because she knows she’s in trouble. “Just. Maybe find a more quiet avenue next time, yeah? How about a good old fashioned love note?”

Amelia’s eyes light up in a way that the unexperienced eye would find adorable, but that fills the person who has been raising her for the past fifteen years mostly with dread. “Yes,” she breathes out, and then grabs for her bag, probably to retrieve a notepad.

“Okay, well, I guess while you go plan your next ‘disruption of a calm learning environment’ I will go speak with Mr. Leclerc yeah?” He says, hand on the doorknob. She barely glances at him and he sighs as he pushes open the door.

“Ah, Mr. Piastri,” Mr. Leclerc says, looking up from his desk with a wide smile. “You made it.”

Oscar thinks, generally, that he would have a much better time coming to the school to talk about his daughter’s behavior if her teacher wasn’t so goddamn pretty. With bright, sparkling eyes, and a lazy smile, and the kind of artfully tousled hair Oscar couldn’t even achieve if he tried.

The horribly baggy pants and oversized button up combo don’t even ruin the look. Somehow it makes him look cool. Oscar hasn’t looked cool since, well. Possibly ever.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Oscar says, sitting down in the chair Mr. Leclerc gestures at. “Again. I don’t know who he has it from.”

“Not you, I presume?” Mr. Leclerc says, eyes twinkling. He doesn’t seem mad, so that’s. Good. Amelia’s previous teacher consistently got their panties in a bunch about the well. Singing. And dancing. And everything.

“No, god no,” he hasn’t tried in a while, but he doesn’t think he could dance. Or sing.

“Her mother, perhaps?” Mr. Leclerc asks, flipping through some folders on his desk.

“Maybe,” Oscar says. “She hasn’t been around for a long time, so. Yeah. I think she mostly gets it from Lando? I mean not the singing and the dancing but this. Need to perform? He’s a DJ, so.”

“Ah, your partner?” Charles asks, looking up at Oscar now, curiously.

“Oh Christ no,” Oscar says, trying not to pull a face, remembers he’s talking to his daughter’s teacher, and schools himself into a more neutral expression. “No, uh. Lando’s just a friend. Of the family. He’s not. He has a boyfriend.”

“Ah,” Charles says. “Alright. Well, I mostly summoned you here because-“

“Because my daughter upheaved your class by performing a perfectly choreographed flashmob to Bruno Mars’s ‘Just The Way You Are’? Yeah, I uh. I heard. And I apologize, again. I’ve been trying to talk to her about it, but it’s-“ he pulls a face. “It’s just me and she’s just uh. Very different and sometimes I just. I don’t really know how to get through to her?”

It’s the most honest he’s been in a while. He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly blurting all of this out to Mr. Leclerc of all people. He’s blaming the big sparkly eyes. Stupid eyelashes, too.

“Hm, I can imagine. All parents kind of feel like that when they reach this age, though, don’t worry. No, I was actually wondering if you were aware of our after school theatre program? I think she would do wonderfully in there. If it’s more the dancing she’s into, or the singing, there’s also a dance team and a choir.”

Oscar blinks. Process. He’s so used to hearing Amelia’s teacher admonish her behavior he wasn’t really expecting anyone to. Well. Encourage her.

“Oh,” he says.

“They’re free, school funded programs, if that’s a concern,” Mr. Leclerc continues. “But I do think it might be a nice outlet for her.”

“Yeah,” he says. He knew, vaguely, that there were clubs. But Amelia had never expressed an interest, and he’d been too busy juggling his demanding job and raising a teenager to ever properly look into them and. Yeah. He takes the folder Mr. Leclerc hands him.

“Thak you, Mr. Leclerc,” he says. Mr. Leclerc stands, and so does he.

“No problem. That was all, really. I do some of the musical accompaniments for the theatre and choir programs so if you have any questions feel free to ask.” By the door, Mr. Leclerc takes his hand. Oscar shakes it a little dazedly. “And please. Call me Charles.”

“Oscar,” Oscar says. Charles hands are soft, and his smile is gentle, and his eyes are still so incredibly stupidly sparkly and fuck. Fuck.

“How did it go?” Amelia asks, when he steps back out the door.

‘I think I might be in love with your teacher’, he thinks. “We’re enrolling you into the school’s theatre program,” he says.

[risustravelogue]

Gifts of A Kind

Summary:

His love for you is the gift he's offering.

Featuring:

Zhongli, Alhaitham, Wriothesley

Tags:

Emotional hurt/comfort, love confessions, self-indulgent, reader has mental health issues and huge insecurity about her worthiness of being loved. Fem!Reader (referred to as a woman) who is having her birthday!

Note:

Me: Happy birthday to me! 🥳 Also me: *writes an emotional hurt/comfort piece with my favorites to cry* Haha. Also, I'm resting from the 1-week EBG grind, so have this for now. As always, enjoy~

🔗 AO3 | masterlist 🔗

It’s another busy day at Bubu Pharmacy.

Sorting the medicinal ingredients in one of the back rooms, you were humming to yourself when a familiar baritone voice came from behind you.

“Happy birthday.”

You turn around to find your crush, the handsome consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, walking towards you with a huge bouquet of silk flowers, dotted with the biggest glaze lilies you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Zhongli! You remembered!” you squeal.

When the man you fancy remembers your birthday, you say thanks to Celestia above. Especially when he’s actually Liyue’s beloved archon.

—This is fine. He can never be mine, but I can have my small joys, can’t I?

“I have a gift for you,” he says with a playful lilt to his voice as he hands over the bouquet to you.

“You mean this pretty thing?”

He smiles. “No. It’s a surprise. Close your eyes.”

You obey. Your heart thumps with anticipation. Maybe you’re finally getting that cute hairclip you’ve been eyeing for a while? Or maybe…

Your thoughts dissolve into thin air when you feel a soft warmth pressing against your lips and the scent of his cologne entering your sense of smell. Your eyes flutter open to find your vision filled with him.

But it’s not joy you feel inside your chest—it’s dread.

You struggle in protest, only for him to snake his left arm around you and press his lips harder against yours. He takes the bouquet away from your hands and sets it on the table behind you while nipping at your lower lip, as if asking for permission. You put your hands on his chest and push him away, breathless.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask.

Zhongli blinks, surprised.

“I thought you wanted it. Was I wrong?”

You shake your head and offer him a frown. “Why?”

“Is that not obvious? I love you.”

—What?

“What did you just say?”

He smiles as he repeats, “I love you.”

“... Heh,” you chuckle, and it turns into a full-blown laughter. “You’re lying. You wouldn’t.”

He only stares into your eyes with those golden pupils of his, his soft expression still like the mountains. You shake your head, dispersing the thoughts that maybe, just maybe—

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “No one would, especially not you.”

You feel his left hand clench at the small of your back as his expression hardens. “Why not?” he asks.

A bitter smile grows on your lips. “You know why. I’m—you know. I’ll only be a burden for you. For anyone.”

“I can bear it, and you know that.”

“But I’m—I’m defective and you know it!” you shout, pushing him away to no avail. His eyes widen, his heart taken aback at how much you must have hurt. You feel your chest clench as you mutter, “I am not the right person for you.”

Zhongli sighs and caresses your cheek, so gently as if you are the most fragile piece of porcelain he has ever held.

“Listen. No one is perfect. Not even me. And you… you awaken something I have never felt in the thousands of years of my life. And I want—”

His lips quirk to form a painful smile.

“I want to keep you by my side, for as long as I am allowed.”

You chuckle bitterly as you slap his hand away.

“Stop it. I don’t want this. I don’t—you’re mistaken. You don’t love me. You can’t.”

Tears roll down your cheek as your fingers clench on the fabric of his suit.

“Please… you can’t.”

A heavy silence hangs between you. His fingers find their way under your chin, tilting your face up towards him.

“Look at me,” he whispers. You shut your eyes in defiance, and you can feel tears dripping down your chin.

“You are the kindest woman I know, and have a strength beyond what even most gods can comprehend. And please believe me when I say I have never met anyone like you in my life,” he says, his voice gentle like you’ve never heard before. You open your eyes to find his gaze looking softly into yours.

“I love you. I will be yours if you want me to.”

He smiles, and you can feel your heart melt.

“Let me be your strength, your rock, your home. Will my word as the God of Contracts do?”

Expressive is one of the last attributes one would assign to the Scribe of the Akademiya, who also happens to be your longtime crush.

So you were surprised to find a saccharine sweet love letter in a pink envelope containing the words “I,” “love,” and “you”—in that order, next to each other—in his distinctly neat handwriting arriving at your doorstep on your birthday.

It’s not funny anymore, you think, deciding to confront him for playing with your feelings. You stroll to his office and bang at the door harshly, your face hot with anger.

“Come in,” the room’s owner says. You barge in, slamming the letter he sent you onto his desk.

“Out of all of your jokes, I rate this shit minus a hundred out of ten,” you say, voice shaking.

The silver-haired man tilts his head, seemingly confused. “What joke are you talking about?”

“This,” you smack the tip of your index finger onto the pink envelope, the force nearly ripping the paper in two. “This fucking letter, Alhaitham.”

“Oh, that,” he says with a smile. “I assure you, it’s not a joke.”

“Stop playing around!” you shout. “You said you love me, you liar.”

“Careful, I did say that, but my patience still has an end,” he says, his voice low, almost a growl. He sighs. “Why would you say I’m lying?”

You scoff. “Because there’s no way, right? You’re perfect, men and women alike want your hand in romance, and you said you love me?”

You laugh derisively as you try to ignore the sharp pain penetrating your chest.

“You can’t love me. You can’t. I’m just a pathetic woman fumbling through life, unlike you. You’re fit as a fiddle while I have to take medication every single night, else my sanity would crumble like dust. I’m a burden to everyone I’ve ever cared about. So please, just stop.”

You feel your lips tremble as you grit your teeth in pain. Alhaitham frowns.

“Yes, I know about all that. I still love you, though.”

“Shut up, Haitham.” You lower your head and turn away, stifling back a sob. “I don’t deserve you. Nobody wants me, and that should include you.”

He slams his fists against his desk as he stands up, making you jump in surprise at his loss of composure. He saunters over around the desk and stops in front of you, his much taller figure looming over your head. His hands find their way to squeeze your shoulders.

“Who hurt you?” he demands, his palms trembling in quiet rage. “I swear I’ll hunt them down and make them suffer for making you think so lowly about yourself.”

“No one,” you lie. The pain in your chest pulses. “I’m just stating the truth.”

“It’s not the truth,” he says, his hands moving to cup your cheeks. “One as strong as you shouldn’t have such a low opinion of themselves.”

He lowers his head to meet you in a slow kiss. A tear rolls down your cheek as you relish the feel of his soft lips against yours.

“There,” he mumbles after pulling back. “Now do you believe me?”

“I don’t want to,” you finally admit, tears now streaming down your face. “I can’t.”

“Then—give me the chance to prove my love for you. Please,” he says while pulling you close. You shut your eyes, taking in his presence like a thirsty deer greedily drinking from the water’s surface. The words he whispers next have a certain promise woven into them.

“I am going to make you the happiest person in the universe.”

The Duke of the Fortress of Meropide looks a bit different than usual today. You are certain of that.

Whenever he catches sight of you, he’ll either hum tunes to himself, smile like an idiot, or walk towards you with a skip in his step that others barely miss.

Too bad you’re only his personal mechanic. Pointing his strange behavior out is way above your pay grade.

… Which is what you’ve been saying to yourself, but your feelings, your amour for him screams and rebels inside your chest, threatening to spill into the flirty sentence of “Wow, someone sure is happy to see me.” You bite on the insides of your cheeks to hold it back. After all, he knows that you’re literally sick in the head, and he wouldn’t want someone like you by his side.

He would never, ever fall in love with you.

But, if that is true… what is that beautiful bouquet of Rainbow Roses doing in his hands, then?

“Happy birthday, wonderful woman,” he greets, a grin plastered across his face. “Please accept this duke’s gratitude.”

“Gratitude?” you ask, folding your hand over your chest where your heart is—the organ working super hard to pump more blood to your already-pink cheeks.

“Yes. Gratitude for all the work you’ve done,” he says in a sing-song voice.

You sigh, trying to rein in the butterflies in your stomach. “Wriothesley, I’m not an idiot. I know what Rainbow Roses mean.”

His smile turns melancholic.

“So what do you say?”

You harden your expression, trying to keep your tone as flat as possible.

“I’m sorry… I can’t.”

An uncomfortable silence goes on for a few seconds.

“Sure you can. Why not? I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

“No, I can’t. Now please stop this nonsense, Boss.”

He takes a step closer, and you take a step back.

“Go away,” you say, turning away from him while stifling back a sob. “I can’t have you.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder. “You can. I want you to have me.”

You shake your head and shrug him off, tears starting to roll down your cheeks as the pain in your chest grows stronger.

“I can’t! I won’t burden you with… with me, of all things!”

“Stop saying that!”

Before you can react, he turns you around and pulls you into him, wrapping you with his strong arms like he’s protecting you from the cold, cruel world.

“Please stop saying that. You’re not a burden. You are never a burden.”

You try to push him away, but he doesn’t budge. His shushes drown your grunts of struggle.

“Let me go. Please, I can’t want this—I can’t want you,” you finally plead, but he only pulls you closer, trapping your hands between your chest and his. You limp, pathetic sobs filling the air as you finally surrender.

“You want to know a secret?” he asks. He does not wait for your answer.

“I think you’re perfect. The way you pursue growth, the way you love. You are the most precious thing I have in my life,” he says, his voice half a whisper. “I am eternally thankful for you. Thank you for coming into my life. I’m at my best when I’m with you, and I don’t only mean because you can fix my gauntlets.”

His embrace tightens around you. You can feel his growing stubble rub against your temple.

“And if I don’t at least try being with you, I’m sure I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

He sighs as he presses his lips to the crown of your head, the warmth sending goosebumps across your skin.

“I want to be your home. I want… no, I need you by my side,” he continues.

Your grip on his vest tightens as you feel him bury his face into your hair.

“I love you. I love you so much, my heart hurts every moment I remember that you’re not mine,” he whispers. He pulls back, only to press his lips against yours in a slow, gentle kiss the next moment.

“Please… be mine. I will never let you down. That’s my vow to you, and I intend to keep it for the rest of my life.”

He looks into your eyes, his gaze as gentle as a beautiful snowflake. You tiptoe a bit to meet him in another kiss. He chuckles as he returns the favor with passion.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

© @risustravelogue 2024 • FEEDING THIS WORK TO GENERATIVE AIs IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED. • do not repost. • reblogs are precious. • feel free to send an ask to suggest, chat, etc. 💖

[bookyeom]

pairing: vernon x reader word count: 3.7k warnings: angst (she did it y’all!!!!), swearing, kissing, wet!vernon

Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary. Happy Birthday, Bononie!

kissing in swimming pools by holly humberstone

do you think we were made to last in the coldest of weather? maybe i don’t have to leave so soon you look heavenly in this shade of blue

Vernonie [8:48pm]: finally back from dinner

Vernonie [8:49pm]: everyone’s gone btw, so i’ll come get u now?

Y/N [8:51pm]: yeye! Just text when ur outside 

You hear his car before you see it. 

His parents must have kept his old, beat-up car from high school for when he came back for the summer, you muse, and it makes you smile. You’d spent a lot of time in that car, listening to whatever new indie band Vernon had “discovered” that week, or eating take-out in the department store parking lot after hours, or your personal favourite: with the engine shut off at the lookout Vernon had discovered on his way home from work one day, tucked away from most of the world as the two of you reclined in his car seats and looked at the night sky. 

You used to wonder if it was there that you fell in love with him, but the truth is that you loved him long before he showed up at your door at 1am, eyes wide with excitement over his new discovery, and brought you there in your pajamas. 

You still have the hoodie he’d leant you that night in the closet of your childhood bedroom.

Tonight, you shut the door quietly behind you out of habit, twisting the knob so it doesn’t make a sound. You’re long past the days of sneaking out, but your muscle memory won’t quit. 

It’s been eight months since you last saw Vernon. You only came home for two days at Christmas, claiming you couldn’t take that much time off from your part time job, and had managed to avoid him. You had still needed the space from him, then. December had only marked four months since he’d broken your heart, and you weren’t sure at the time if you’d ever be able to look him in the eye again. 

The months after Christmas break had finally begun to heal you. Your new semester had started, and you had decided to dive headfirst into both academic and social endeavors instead of wallowing away in your dorm room. You’d finally made new friends, your grades had improved, and while it still hurt to see his name when it popped up across your social media platforms, it wasn’t all you thought about anymore.

Right now, you kind of can’t wait to see him.

“Hi,” you say, breathless, and when Vernon meets your eyes, you know you’re not breathless because of the jog from your front door to his car. 

He looks good. His hair is a bit longer, curling at the ends and falling softly across his forehead, and you think his shoulders have filled out. His jaw is just as sharp, eyelashes just as long, and you immediately wonder how you’d gone so long without him. 

“Hi, stranger,” he says, and you’re terrified that the sound of his voice might tear you apart — but it doesn’t. You hold firm, despite the sound of your heartbeat roaring loud in your ears. It hurts, but it’s a dull ache instead of the sharp pain you’re used to. Seeing him sends a wave of relief through you instead of the dread you’d been half expecting, and you can feel the tension in your chest ease just the slightest bit. You can do this. Because it’s Vernon, and because life sucks without him. 

You stare at each other for a few moments, and then he raises an eyebrow as if in a challenge, and you can’t help it. You break into a smile, and then you’re surging across the middle console and pulling him in for a hug. He laughs against your neck, and you know he’s just as happy to see you as you are him. The hand that was on the steering wheel finds your back, and your eyes fall shut. 

“I missed you,” you say honestly, and you swear you can feel him exhale.

“Yeah,” he says before squeezing you tight, once. Brief, but enough for you to feel it, to understand, as he adds, “Me too.”

You pull back. Vernon puts the car into drive as you click on your seatbelt, and you fall into an easy, comfortable silence as he begins to make the familiar way back to his place. 

When you texted him a few weeks ago, your hands trembling but determined, you hadn’t been sure what he would say. You hadn’t spoken in months.

For a while, you didn’t think you’d ever get over the rejection of last August, but a year away at university had done you good. It was full of distractions; you’d even had a couple of flings here and there. Vernon had texted you a bit at first, because you’d insisted that you were fine, but it had hurt to see his name show up on your phone. You had responded slowly, using any and all excuses to explain away the days that passed without you answering. You’d texted sparingly throughout the year on birthdays and holidays, and you knew he watched your stories the same as you watched his. You knew he knew the real reason why you were distant, but he never pushed. After all, he’d broken your heart, not the other way around. 

Eventually, you had recognized that the distance was helping, and conversations between the two of you had become even more sparse after that. It had been hard — one of the hardest things you’d ever had to do — but you’d needed the space. So when his response to your text a few weeks ago had come quickly and enthusiastically, a Vernon-esque “bet :)” in response to your ask to hang out when you got home for the summer, you had been so relieved that you’d cried. Though you’d known he would never hate you, deep down a small part of you had still been afraid that you’d pushed him away for good.  

The silence in the car tonight is comfortable, and you’re grateful. Vernon is tapping in tune to the beat on his steering wheel while you hum along in quiet contentment. After a couple of songs that you recognize play in a row, you turn to him in surprise. 

“Is this the playlist I made you for your birthday two years ago?” 

Vernon simply nods, eyes on the road as he makes a turn. “Yeah.” 

“Oh.”

Vernon laughs. “Am I not supposed to listen to it?”

“Just surprised me, that’s all.”

”Okay, weirdo.” 

The conversation moves on, but you don’t forget about it, even as you pull up to Vernon’s childhood home. 

It looks almost exactly the same. You follow Vernon up the steps and to the front door, through the foyer and to the kitchen where you used to help his mom prep for their summer barbecues. He tosses you a bottle of water wordlessly before he’s slipping out the back door without warning, and you trail behind without question. His peculiar mannerisms don’t faze you, even after all this time apart, and that realization brings you a warm sort of comfort.

As soon as you step through the back door and into the warmth of the summer evening air again, you can’t help but smile. This, too, remains unchanged. The heated pool with its blue and white tiled sides; the metal table with its umbrella, a single tip bent out of shape so that it sags just in one small part; the overgrown trees whose leaves spill over the sides of the wooden fence. You’d spent many days and nights here, too. 

You join Vernon, who’s already sitting on the edge of the pool with his legs hung over the sides. 

“Damn, you didn’t waste any time, Sol.” The nickname falls out before you can stop it. It’s been so long since you’ve been around him, since you’ve even let yourself think of him as anything other than Vernon. If he notices your slip up, he doesn’t say.

”It’s hot out,” he points out, simple. “Why wait?” He takes a swig of his own water bottle, and you’re smiling again.

You join him without further comment. 

Quiet settles between the two of you again, which would be fine if you weren't suddenly itching to ask him a million questions. How was his first year of university? How are his parents, his sister? Is his favourite food still carne asada tacos? Does he still only own t-shirts and jeans? Is he… seeing anyone?

Is he happy?

Had he really missed you?

“I’ll be right back.”

You’re surprised when Vernon gets up, barely missing you with the water he sends splashing as he does. But you don’t question him, your legs swinging back and forth in the water. You watch the underwater lights distort in the ripples you make, distracted by the simple movements and your racing thoughts. When you hear him re-emerge, you turn to find him with two towels in hand. Your eyes widen and you frantically shake your head.

“I didn’t bring a bathing suit, Vernon.” And I am not getting into that pool with you in just my underwear.

He pulls something out from under one of the towels, and you recognize it as one of his favourite band tees that he’s had for years. He raises his eyebrows at you, eyes twinkling in a teasing challenge, and you narrow your eyes at him. The smile on his face briefly sends you reeling back — back to before that night last summer when everything changed. Back to when he was just your best friend who liked to tease you for fun, who brought you your favourite ice cream every movie night, who took you to your high school graduation dance even though you knew he would have rathered gouge his eyes out with a spoon. 

Back to when you were in love with him, but he didn’t know yet. 

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll get in.”

He grins, and your chest does a little flip-flop. You forcefully ignore it as you take the shirt from his outstretched hand. He turns around to give you privacy, and you keep your eyes on his turned back as you remove everything except your underwear and his shirt. Though he’s grown up now and wears things that fit him better — you had noticed the bomber jacket in his backseat, and the t-shirt he’s wearing that fits him just right — he used to love things that were three sizes too big. The old, worn shirt just brushes your thighs, but you don’t have time to think anymore about it when he moves to pull his own shirt up and over his head. 

You watch the muscles in his back contract, and you swallow. Don’t go down this road again, you tell yourself. It’s just going to hurt like hell.

If you’re honest with yourself, you’re starting to wonder if you’d ever really strayed from that path in the first place.

Because when he turns back to you with raised eyebrows and a smile, when he pulls you with him by the hand, it hits you with as much force as the cool water you jump into. And when you resurface and your eyes find him already looking back at you, his hair sticking up every which way and water dripping from his lashes down onto his cheeks, it hits you again.

That you don’t know if there will ever be anyone else for you but him.

You turn away from him, running your hands through your hair, trying desperately to keep your cool. You feel like you’re being punched in the stomach, like that sharp pain you’d felt since last August had never left. You thought you were ready to see him again, and you had been so, so wrong. 

You can feel all those months of mending, of trying desperately to get over your feelings for him so you could have him back in your life — you can feel them as they slip away. 

“I’m sorry,” was all he’d said that night, and your heart had shattered into a thousand pieces. You could tell through blurry eyes that he was hurting, too, because he loved you, you knew he did. Just not like that. He hadn’t said anything else, even though it looked like he wanted to, and you just didn’t understand. You thought for sure that he felt the same, because he’d kissed you back, because you knew him just as well as he knew you. 

And it really felt like you’d healed. Just an hour ago, you’d even been excited to see him again.

You will yourself to breathe.

“Hey. I’m sorry I pulled you in with me.”

You don’t respond.

“Are you okay?”

You don’t answer as his voice breaks through your racing thoughts, your back still turned to him. 

“…Y/N?”

He sounds concerned, like he cares. You know he does — know that he always has. And it hurts.

You can feel the water moving behind you when you still don’t respond. You can feel it as he takes a step or two closer, and you can almost imagine the look on his face as he tries to figure out what he did wrong. You feel like you’ve been burned when he reaches for you, when his hand tries to find your arm to turn you back to him. You can hear his inhale when you flinch away, your skin on fire where his fingertips just barely brushed your shoulder.

He tries again, because he loves you. Because he loves you — but not like that. “Talk to me?”

Your eyes squeeze shut, and you take a deep breath. You know you have to face him in order to get through this, to leave here in one piece even if it’s by pretending. You have to. You don’t want him to know, don’t want him to know that you’re still the reason you can’t be close to him, that you still love him, that you probably never stopped. 

But when you turn to find him right there, find him so close, when you see that his eyes are full of worry, you can’t find a single word. He looks beautiful in the dim blue light of the pool, and it makes your heart ache.

“Y/N.” Your name is nothing but a whispered breath as he says it, his eyes locked so intently on your face that you suddenly feel warm all over despite the slight chill of the water. His gaze pierces through you, and you watch as it travels across your face, down to your lips, where it lingers. 

You’re not sure you’re breathing, not sure what to do, not sure how to possibly move on from what feels impossible. Why isn’t he moving away? Why is he so close? 

“I…” He tries again, eyes still on your mouth. Then he snaps his gaze up again. “I’m… I’m really happy that you’re here.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “You…”

“I missed you.” He looks hesitant before he says it, but he says it anyway, and your breath catches when you hear the tender, soft tone of his voice. It makes your head spin. “I really missed you. So much.” 

You take a steadying breath at the same time as he does. The air between you feels charged — charged with something you won’t let yourself name.

Then he’s stepping even closer, a hand lifting to your face, and you freeze. You can’t move — you don’t even know if you want to. You’re confused, but you don’t move, and all you can manage to say is a single word.

“Sol,” you caution.

He takes a deep breath in, and then he says, “You haven’t thought about it?” 

His hand is gentle on your jaw, thumb tracing lines back and forth across your skin. You feel goosebumps everywhere he touches. Your eyes search his, trying desperately to understand. You hate that you’re finding him extra hard to read right now — now, when you need to know what he’s thinking more than ever. 

“Thought about what?” Your voice is small, and you hate it.

Vernon’s other hand lifts to your face, tilting your chin up towards him. His eyes search yours as he speaks, his voice low. “Last summer.” He pauses. “Us.”

The words hit you like a truck. 

“What the fuck, Vernon?” You finally manage. You can feel the tears begin to well up, and you pull his hands away from your face. “Don’t you dare.”

He takes a step back, eyebrows knit together. “I’m sorry.”

You stare at him incredulously, frustration bubbling to the surface the longer you look at him. “Don’t be an asshole.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and all you can hear is the water gently hitting against the side of the pool. You frustratedly tuck a lock of wet hair behind your ear before crossing your arms.

“Why would you say that to me?” You’re hurt, and he knows it.

“I just…” He searches your face for a moment before he breathes out, “I think about you all the time. I miss you all the time.”

You can feel angry tears pricking at the back of your eyelids. You blink them away rapidly as you spit out, “You were the one who kissed me back and then pretended like nothing happened. You—“

“Would you have gone?”

You blink when he interrupts you, and it takes you a second to try and understand what he means. You wrack your brain, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about. “What?”

“Would you have gone to school there if I had told you I loved you last summer? Or would you have chosen somewhere closer?”

You’re absolutely dumbfounded as you process what he’s saying. You’re blinking away furious tears, mouth agape as you try and settle on something to say. “Was that your fucking choice to make?”

“I was trying to make it easier for you. It’s your dream school.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. “What the fuck? I was in love with you, Vernon!”

“I was in love with you, too!”

The silence is deafening. You stare at him with wide eyes, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest. You wonder if he can hear it. Then you squeeze your eyes shut, your hands lifting to cover your face as you try and regain your composure. 

“I thought I was doing what was best for the both of us.”

His voice is quiet. You know he’s telling the truth. It hurts, but you know he’s being honest. That he thought he was doing the right thing. 

“I thought that maybe the distance would make it a little easier,” he continues, voice carrying softly across the water in the space between you. “But it didn’t. Not for me.”

Moments pass, and you realize you’re shaking. Your hands stay covering your face as you take deep breaths, waiting until you’ve recovered enough to say, voice low, “I have never been more upset with you than I am right now.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he responds. “I know, and I deserve it. I’m sorry that I made that decision for you. I really am. I shouldn’t have done it.”

You nod after a minute, after you force yourself to breathe, letting your hands fall from your face. You can’t look at him, though, eyes instead focusing on your fingers that begin tracing patterns in the water at your sides. “Okay.”

“And I'm…” He trails off, and you wait. He takes so long that you look up to find him looking at you, waiting, and something in his eyes has you stuck there. He searches your face, and then he says, “I’m sorry that I made you think that I don’t love you back. Because of course I do.” 

Your heartbeat has begun to roar in your ears again. “You do, present tense?”

Vernon freezes, eyes wide. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before he finally settles on something. “Shit. Sorry, fuck, I—”

“Is that a yes?”

He inhales sharply. “Yeah — yes. I don’t expect anything from you, though. I promise I’m not —“

“You are such a fucking idiot.” 

He doesn’t hesitate. “I know. I know. I’m—”

“I spent so long figuring out how to put myself back together,” you say softly, and he cuts himself off. You can feel tears pricking at the back of your eyelids again. “Without you.” 

Vernon’s shoulders sag, and he nods, looking down at the water. “Yeah.” 

Your breath catches before you steady yourself and you say, “It’s literally always been you, Sol. Even though you’re a fucking idiot.”

His eyes are wide when they shoot back up to meet yours. You inhale a shaky breath, watching as he waits, unsure. 

“It’s still you,” you add quietly, and you’re certain that you hear his breath catch.

“I’m in love with you,” he breathes out before you can say anything else. “I love you back. I did then, and I do now, and I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. I wanted to, I swear. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m…” He trails off, a hand running through his hair as he finishes, “I’m just really fucking sorry.”

“I believe you,” you say softly, because you do. You believe him, and you’re not sure your heart has ever beat this fast. Because he loves you — the same way that you love him. Vernon looks down at the water again, and you think you can see the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks as he thinks. “Sol?”

Your soft voice makes him look up. He still looks uncertain, like he doesn’t know what he’s allowed to do. 

“Come here?”

You’re in his arms so fast you can barely process. He’s hugging you so tight against his chest that you can feel the warmth of him through your wet t-shirt, and it sends shivers down your spine. He doesn’t say anything else as he holds you, and neither do you. Your arms are wound around his neck, and you can feel the way his nose nuzzles into the crook of your shoulder. 

You pull back, your hands finding either side of his face. He blinks, slowly, taking in every part of you in the same way that you’re taking in every part of him. You brush away a stray drop of water that falls from his hair down onto his forehead, and you’re certain you’re dreaming. He’s so beautiful, a perfect juxtaposition of sharp edges and soft lines, so… Vernon. 

And he’s gazing at you like you hung all the stars in the sky — because he loves you, in the same way that you love him. 

For the second time in a year, you kiss him first.

A/N: thank you so much to everyone for all the love on the other fics so far :) Here’s the sixth of our Thirteen Valentines in honour of Bononie’s birthday. Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :) Your kind comments and reblogs don’t go unnoticed, I promise.

Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @tae-bebe @gyuminusone@savventeen @eoieopda @minisugakoobies @wheeboo @lvlystars@darkypooo @christinewithluv @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @bella-l (Strikethrough means it wouldn’t let me tag you, sorry!)

[serafilms]

song 72! you belong with me (taylor swift) + newt requested by @misty-inferno (2023 spotify wrapped event)

dreaming ‘bout the day when you wake up and find that what you’re looking for has been here the whole time

If anyone were to ask where either you or Newt were, the other gladers would say to look for the other. They’d probably end up finding the two of you together.

At least, that was the case before Thomas came into the picture.

Today found you sitting on a bench near the kitchen, where Frypan had kicked you out. Apparently your sour mood was spoiling the food. You glowered when you looked in the distance and saw Newt walking the newbie around.

“Whoa, why are you trying to commit a felony?”

Your eyes flitted up to where Minho was hovering over you. Still scowling, you said, “What felony?”

“Attempted murder. Using your face.”

“Man, fuck you!” you exclaimed, smacking him on the arm.

“Hey! I didn’t mean it like that! I meant like, the whole ‘if looks could kill’ thing,” he defended himself, rubbing his arm.

“Well either way, I’m not trying to murder anyone, you slinthead.”

Minho shrugged. “Tell that to Thomas. He’s been asking since last night why you keep glaring at him.”

“I’m not glaring at him,” you scoffed, “I’m observing. Analysing.”

“Right, right,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “You sure you’re not just pissy he’s hanging out with Newt?”

“Well,” you huffed, “he already got the tour from Chuck, what more does he need to know?”

Minho finally joined you on the bench, and nudged you with his elbow. You massaged the sore spot on your ribs.

“You should tell him how you feel, you know.”

“I’ve tried, Minho.”

He looked very unimpressed. “How? Telepathic signals?”

“I- well, you know,” you spluttered, “I wrote a note that said ‘I love you’ and left it in his hammock? But then it fell out and he didn’t see it.”

“My condolences,” Minho drawled.

You stuck your tongue out at him and he rolled his eyes. Minho was right, to some extent, you thought. But you didn’t want to confess to him, not with everything he’d been through, and with this horrible situation you’d been thrust in.

Newt was the best, most deserving person you’d ever met, and you knew you couldn’t force him into anything. Also, you were a bit of a coward. But that wasn’t the important part. You wanted him to realise by himself that you loved him and decide what he wanted.

And if what he wanted was Thomas, so be it.

“It’s not that simple,” you said to Minho. “Nothing is ever simple in The Glade. If I have to keep pining after him until he realises I love him or decides he loves me, then I will.”

Minho’s lips pursed and his gaze softened. “Okay, fine.”

Then he looked forwards and his eyes zeroed in on something. “Heads up, though, they’re coming this way.”

You looked up instantly and found Newt and Thomas heading your way. Newt raised his hand in a wave and Thomas gave what was probably supposed to be a smile but ended up being more like a grimace. Wow, he really did think you hated him.

“Hey Y/N, Minho,” Newt said, but his gaze was fixed on you. “Could I talk to Y/N for a second?”

“Fine,” scoffed Minho, “get rid of me. Come on, greenie, let’s go raid the kitchen.”

He threw an arm around Thomas and guided him away, and Newt took his spot on the bench while your heartbeat and body temperature rose alarmingly.

“Hi,” you managed to squeak out, “what’s up?”

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “I found this on top of your things when I tried to look for you this morning.”

He started to rummage around in his pants pocket. “And then Thomas told me he saw the same piece of paper lying on the ground under my hammock last night.”

Dread filled every crevice of your body as Newt pulled out a folded piece of paper and unfolded it to reveal the words ‘I love you.’

“That’s… quite a coincidence,” you muttered.

Newt’s face twisted in a smile. “Yeah, I thought so too.”

Your face was unimaginably red when he started digging around in his other pocket and then turned to look at you.

“But what’s an even bigger coincidence, is this.”

He handed you a second piece of paper, folded only in half. Your heart lurched as you peeled it open. ‘I love you,’ it said, in a perfect imitation of Newt’s handwriting.

“What?”

He laughed at your dumbstruck expression and took the paper from your hands, then took your hands in his, forcing you to look at him. “I was going to give it to you tonight.”

“You love me?” you asked, still dumbstruck.

“I do, yeah.”

Your stomach did flips as you grinned at him. “Can I kiss you?”

Newt turned a little pink, and you flushed with pride at being able to embarrass him, then he nodded.

Nobody was surprised when you both showed up hand in hand to dinner that night, nor when you kissed afterwards. And nobody, not even Thomas, was surprised when Newt climbed his way into your hammock instead of his.

Because that was where he belonged. With you.

the maze runner: apocalypse sassy man apocalypse

based off of the ybwm music video

[frostdayz]

A desperate heart

Aemond x Reader (f! reader)

genre Angst? but also fluff?

warnings: (forced marriage, emotional infidelity, Aegon being a shit husband, Aemond being a great affair, kind of changed things a bit so not canon?!!, FIRST PERSON POV!! also super super rushed will probably change a LOT later.

summary: Y/N's heart has always belonged to her husbands younger brother and his to her.

--------

I stood in the cold, empty chambers, the silence pressing down on me like a heavy shroud. My heart was heavy with the weight of my unfulfilled marriage, a union bound by duty rather than love. The grand tapestries and opulent furnishings did little to mask the emptiness that echoed through the room. Aegon and I had wed for the sake of the realm, not for our happiness, and it showed in every aspect of our relationship. Our marriage was rocky, plagued by his infidelity and palpable disdain. He sought the company of others, cheating on me whenever the opportunity arose, finding comfort in the arms of women from the Street of Silk. Nights were the loneliest, as he never slept in the same chambers, choosing instead to seek comfort elsewhere.

Our conversations were brief and strained, limited to what was necessary, often involving the barest civilities or court obligations. The expectation to produce an heir seemed to be the only reason he tolerated my presence, but even that crucial duty was neglected, leaving me feeling unwanted and invisible. Each day, I was reminded of my role as a pawn in a larger game, and the coldness of our chambers mirrored the chill in my heart.

Despite the hurt and neglect, I found relief in the most unexpected place—Aemond, Aegon's younger brother out of all people. While Aemond treated everyone else with a cold shoulder, his demeanor changed entirely when he was with me. With me, he was kind, gentle, and warm, a stark contrast to his usual stoic and distant nature. His piercing blue eye, which seemed so intimidating to others, softened when it met mine, filled with unspoken understanding and affection. We would slip away during council meetings, finding secluded corners of the castle or hidden alcoves in the godswood where we could be alone. In those stolen moments, we shared whispered secrets and tender touches, our hearts beating in sync. Aemond's presence was a balm to my wounded soul, his touch sending shivers down my spine and his words wrapping around me like a warm embrace.

"I love you" he would say to me with such conviction something I never experienced before. In each other's company, the burdens of our lives seemed to fade away. He would tell me stories of his childhood, dreams, and aspirations long overshadowed by his brother. I, in turn, would share my fears and hopes, feeling truly seen and cherished for the first time since my marriage.

One afternoon, while Aegon and the others were occupied with the council, Aemond and I found ourselves alone hand in hand in the godswood. The ancient trees stood tall around us, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. We walked along a secluded path, the bustling noise outside fading away as we reveled in each other's presence.

Aemond's thumb brushed against my knuckle, the contact being simple but sending a shiver down my spine. We stopped by a small clearing, the soft moss under our feet cushioning our steps. Aemond turned to face me my right hand still in his left, his eye searching mine for reassurance and understanding.

"How much longer?" I whispered, my voice trembling with the fear of discovery. The thought of losing these precious moments with him filled me with dread.

Aemond's expression softened, as he took both of my hands in his, his thumb caressing my knuckles again in a soothing gesture. "As long as it takes," he replied, his voice firm yet tender. "I would do anything to keep you safe and by my side. And I don't think my idiot brother has caught on yet." He chuckles and rolls his eyes at the sky.

I looked up at him, my eyes brimming with tears. "But what if we get caught? Aegon would have us both dead. He would never allow this, as he'd be labeled a cuckold." He laughs once more.

Aemond stepped closer, his presence a comforting warmth against the cool forest air. He cupped my face in his hands, his touch gentle yet reassuring. "Let him be damned," he murmured, his voice low and intense. "I've lived my life in his shadow, always second to his whims and desires. But with you, I feel alive, truly alive. I won't give that up. Not for him, not for anyone."

His words resonated deep within me, a promise and a declaration. I leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hands grounding me. "I love you, Aemond," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the rustling leaves. "I just fear a day will come when I will wake up and all of this will be over."

"It won't," he assured me, his eyes burning with determination. "We'll find a way. I'll find a way."

Days later I have not seen much of Aemond or my distant husband as they are both preparing to take hold of Rook's rest which will ensure the upper hand for Aegon in the rest of the war. 

Getting bored of embroidering the same flower on a different colored piece of cloth I decided to get out of my chambers and take a walk through the halls. Using this boredom and walk as an excuse to run into Aemond. The castle corridors were quiet, the only sound being the distant murmur of a conversation coming from a room somewhere ahead. The tension in the castle had been palpable for days, and I knew something significant was brewing.

Curiosity got the best of me. As I approached the heavy wooden door, I heard voices from within more clearly. The door was ajar, and I carefully positioned myself behind a pillar nearby to listen.

"We need to strike swiftly and decisively," Aemond's voice was firm, filled with the cold determination that had become all too familiar. "You should be leading the van, and I should be flying cover on Vhagar.”

Aemond continues."My brother is hostage to my grandsire and mother, and they tell him that a war of dragons can yet be avoided.” He sighs.

“Tis inevitable. They must see that.” Ser Criston Cole replied, his tone equally resolute. I tried to lean more into the pillar to hear what was left to be said but before I could act  I heard footsteps approaching. I take a step back from the pillar and continue my walk around the corridors of the Red Keep, but with each step, I take I think about the comment that was slipped from my lover's mouth. Was the war of dragons truly unavoidable?”

The day of the battle arrived, and the tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. The sky was overcast, dark clouds mirroring the dread that settled in my chest. I stood far from the battlefield, hidden behind a gnarled old tree in the dense woods, my hands gripping the rough bark so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Aemond warned me to stay in King's Landing to keep me away from any harm but I wouldn't let him go alone. He only allowed me to stay at a distance covered by the trees. From my vantage point, I could just make out the figures moving in the distance, clashing violently. The clash of steel rang out sharply, mingling with the horrific cries of the wounded and the dying. Above it all, the deafening roars of dragons filled the air, their massive wings beating rhythmically as they soared through the smoke and chaos.

My heart pounded erratically as I saw Aemond on Vhagar, the great dragon's scales glistening ominously even in the dim light. They soared high above the chaos, Vhagar's fearsome presence dwarfing the other dragons. My breath hitched as I watched them maneuver with deadly grace, Aemond's eyes fixed on the battle below with cold determination. Every fiber of my being was tense, torn between fear for his safety and a desperate hope that he would emerge victorious.

The sight of Aegon struggling against Rhaenys' dragon, Meleys, made my stomach churn. Aegon's dragon, Sunfyre, tried to match Meleys' ferocity, but the battle seemed to favor Rhaenys. Flames and smoke swirled around them, creating a hellish spectacle that left me breathless with anxiety. Despite everything Aegon had put me through, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow at the sight of him in peril.

From my hiding spot, I could see the moment Aemond made his choice. Vhagar ascended higher, away from the fray, leaving Aegon to fend for himself against Rhaenys. My breath caught in my throat, realization dawning with a mix of shock and dread. The internal struggle was visible even this far away the tight set of his jaw and the fierce glint in his eyes as he turned Vhagar away.

[bonniebird]

Aegon x Fem!Reader

Requested by Anon

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Request: Anonymous asked: "I ran too fast and now I can’t breathe. It’s the first time I’ve exercised in four years." Ageon Targaryen and Fem!Reader please.

Shuffling your feet you sighed and wished for something interesting to happen. You were appreciative that you were one of the queen's favourites and that, for today, delivering a carriage full of supplies would be the hardest job you had that day, perhaps for the week. It didn’t make the waiting around any less boring though. You turned curiously as the door to the sept opened. 

It was the smaller door built into the giant doors at the front of the sept. It was disguised with ornate woodwork so that unless you inspected it closely you wouldn’t be able to tell that it was there.

“(Y/N).” Aemond said as he came into view. He was followed by the twins Erryk and Arryk. Aemond said your name as if he had hoped to find someone else.

“Aemond.” You smiled cheerfully and you could see the irritation at your cheerful disposition clear on his face. It did bring a spark of dreadful joy to rile him up. Though he never said anything, only giving you a distasteful look as if your bubbling character exhausted him beyond reason. You always got the sense that after spending any length of time with you the prince took a long lay down afterwards to recover.

“The royal carriage outside. That would be yours?” He asked in the same tone. He came across as rather bored and as if he would rather be anywhere else but he was also stern and impatient, his foot tapping as he waited for your reply.

“It is. Your queen mother has asked me to take this to the Septas to be given out to the needy.” You held up your large woven basket that hung from one arm and several more that were lined up on the worn wooden benches near the front of the sept. It was lined with green cloth and filled with food left over from a feast that had been thrown by King Viserys in Princess Rhaenyra’s honour two days prior.

“And you are alone?” He pressed. His foot tapping out an echoed song on the cold stone floor, his fingers matched the sound as they tapped silently on the hilt of the sword on his waist. 

“Yes. That is why I was sent with the royal carriage your mother prefers.” You said as if that answer was obvious. You turned your attention away from the three men and towards the two septas that hurried towards you. The youngest gave you an appropriate greeting for your rank while the elder lady bowed her head quickly, thanked you and assured you the queen's gift would be greatly appreciated. There was a loud rustling and scuffling which drew all your attention towards a stone table with candles set heavily into the floor towards the back corner of the room. The younger septa, newly joined from a sept outside the city and not as used to the chaos of the royal house as the elder, jumped as Aegon leapt up from the shadows under the table. He darted off with a determination, not unlike the rat cats from the Red Keep, when the cook would chase them from the kitchen when she received dairy goods. While the twins chased him Aemond followed calmly. He stopped to bow to the three of you before following. There was peace again as the door closed, promptly broken by Aemond’s barked cry of “BROTHER!”

Once you had completed your task for the queen, you took the time to light a candle and knelt to pray. You lit another candle for the queen as well. It seemed the right thing to do when she hadn’t been able to make the trip to the sept as she wished. Once you were done you dusted yourself off and headed to the carriage. 

The silver carriage you had been allowed to take today was the queen’s personal carriage, not the usual one that you and her ladies or the ladies that waited on Princess Helena would ride in. It was pleasantly upholstered and the wheels rolled smoothly even over the roads that had become uneven during the weather over the last few months. 

“Are you ready to return home, my lady?” One of the queen's guards who travelled with the carriage asked. You nodded as he opened the door and helped you up the wooden steps into the carriage.

“Yes. That is all the queen wished for us to do today.” You said and smiled at him. 

All of a sudden something large struck your side and you yelped as you plummeted painfully into the carriage and something large, heavy and smelling of stale alcohol landed on you. 

“Unhand me!” Aegon snapped at the guard who was quick to follow your fall into the carriage and jump to your aid realising that the attacker was in fact Aegon and finding himself unsure if he should let him loose or not. “I said unhand me!”

“Aegon!” You snapped once the poor guard, pail-faced and clearly panicked, had helped you to one of the seats, seeming to decide it was best to let the flailing dragon go rather than try to heave him out of the carriage. Ageon had already taken up one of the bench seats and did not look willing to move again, so you sat on the other. “You’ve ruined my dress!” You complained as you saw the mud and dirt he’d gotten all over your clothes. Ageon did not respond, instead, he gasped a few times and waved a hand at the guard, who was still lingering in the doorway of the carriage, indicating that he would like to be taken home. You glared at him, fixing him with as hard a look as you could manage.

 "I ran too fast and now I can’t breathe. It’s the first time I’ve exercised in four years." He gasped out after a long pause. You tried not to giggle but the sound broke out on its own and made him smile as you put a hand up to your mouth as if to try and catch the sound.

“Why are you running from Aemond?” You asked to distract from your amusement and he sighed.

“Because he’s a frightful bore and I wanted to have some fun.” Aegon sprawled out across the seat he was occupying and closed his eyes.

“You shouldn’t hide in the sept. It's rude. Not to mention you always hide there so you're easier to find.” You said quickly. He opened one eye and groaned a little.

“Are you going to scold me all the way back to the keep?” He asked lazily. You sighed and leaned into the comfortable seat a little more.

“I would much rather not have to talk to you at all.” You said quickly. He chuckled and shrugged.

“Very well.” He spoke with sharp amusement that made you frown.

“I mean that.” You said stubbornly. He smiled again and basked in the sun that burst through the carriage windows as the long stretch of road opened up and the carriage turned down the road that exited the main heart of the city and headed to the front courtyard of the keep. 

“And I agreed.” He was starting to smile, amusement playing at the corner of his mouth as you fidgeted in your seat, running your tongue over your front teeth and smacking your lips quietly with frustration. “But you do insist on it ever so much.” He said after a pause.

“Because you do not speak as if you believe me.” You answered matter of factly. He nodded and made a noise as if he agreed.

“It is true I do speak in such a manner. Mostly because I don’t believe you. You like me more than my brother at least.” He said softly and grinned as he looked over at you, his feet kicked up against the wall of the carriage at the end of the seat, crossed over each other at the ankle as his hands rested on his chest.

“Not true at all. I find Daeron much more enjoyable to spend time with than you.” Your answer made him laugh.

“Everyone likes him. But you like me more than Aemond.” He sat up and leaned towards you as the carriage came to a stop. The small space seemed to become smaller still under his gaze, watching you as if he wanted you to confess that he was right but the door was yanked open and Aemond appeared as he stepped into the light that burst through the opening, yanking Aegon out of his seat and through the carriage door out of sight. Sir Cole stepped into view shortly after and gently helped you from the carriage. 

“Thank you for finding him.” A stiff voice came from behind you. Turning you found Otto Hightower over seeing Aegon being swept out of sight into the depths of the keep.

“Well, really he found me.” You confessed and smiled. Your smile fell awkwardly when Otto’s face remained stern. 

“The queen will see you in her chambers for an update on your trip to the Sept.” Otto said and nodded to Cole. Though he was gentle as he guided you inside, Sir Cole’s grip on your arm was unyielding and you had the good sense to suspect that Aegon had gotten you into some kind of trouble.

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[welcometomytrashcan]

Before the Dawn: Chapter I // Logan Howlett

This is the first fic I’ve written in 11 years, so pls be nice. I’m sensitive. Also sorry for the formatting of the dialogue, I’m more used to writing scripts. 09/17/24 Update: I revised the dialogue

Logan Howlett x f!mutant!reader Chapter 1/4 Word Count: 1874

Background: You are a mutant with hydrokinetic abilities (think Percy Jackson meets the mermaids from H2O), and arrived at the X-Mansion 4 months before Logan. You started dating Logan after the events of X-Men but before he left for Alkali Lake. You are both in love with each other but have yet to confess it. Takes place within the events of X2, Canon violence, pre-established relationship, allusions to sex

Today was already shaping up to be a difficult one. You were taking the students on a field trip to the science museum, but your hopes weren't high. The prospect of wrangling groups of children still learning to control their powers filled you with dread, especially with the escalating tension between humans and mutants.

Things went from bad to worse when you heard raised voices coming from the museum food court. You quickly glanced over to see John, Bobby, and Rogue in an altercation with some human boys. Just then, the televisions blared breaking news, drawing everyone’s attention.

“An attempted assassination at the White House?” you murmured, your stomach dropping as the report unfolded. A mutant had infiltrated the building and tried to kill the president in the name of mutant freedom.

Later, you found yourself standing in Charles' office with him, Scott, Jean, and Storm, discussing the attack.

Scott crossed his arms, his expression grim. “My opinion? Magneto’s behind this.”

“No,” Jean replied, shaking her head. “I don’t think so, Scott.”

Charles leaned back in his chair, contemplating. “While Erik might have organized something like this from prison, it’s too irrational. It only hurts his goal of mutant prosperity.”

Scott scoffed. “You mean superiority.”

“If Erik had his way, yes,” Charles admitted.

You interjected, “You know how the government will respond to this. They’ll reintroduce the Registration Act.”

Storm nodded. “Or worse.”

“Do you think the assassin was working alone?” Jean asked, her brow furrowed.

“The only way we’ll know is if we find him before the authorities do,” Charles said. “I’ve been trying to track him using Cerebro, but his movements are erratic.”

As Charles continued explaining the plan, you felt a weight in your chest. You were assigned to watch over the kids tonight. Normally, you wouldn’t mind, but with Logan gone for so long and the events of the day hanging over you, you weren’t in the best mood. Still, you kept your thoughts to yourself.

Just as the meeting was wrapping up, a sputtering rumble from outside caught your attention. You stepped to the window and your eyes lit up as you spotted Logan talking with Rogue, Bobby, and Storm. You caught the tail end of their conversation.

“We need a babysitter,” Storm said.

“Babysitter?” Logan replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, with Y/N,” Storm added.

Logan perked up at the mention of your name, and your heart fluttered.

“Y/N? Where is she?” he asked, scanning the room.

“Right here,” you called, leaning against the staircase banister, smiling at him.

His eyes widened as he saw you—the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. He strode over to the staircase as you walk down, stopping on the step closest to his height. He wraps his arms around your waist.

“I missed you,” he said softly.

You cupped your hands around the back of his neck, trailing your fingers through his hair. “I missed you too, Logan.”

You pulled each other into a kiss, savoring the moment. But just as it deepened, you heard Storm clear her throat.

“There are kids around,” she reminded, and you pulled back, smiling sheepishly at Logan.

“Well, I should get the jet ready,” Storm said.

“Yeah, we should go too. It was nice to meet you,” Bobby added, pulling Rogue toward the common area.

As they left, you and Logan were left hyper-aware of the students passing by.

“So, what’s been going on here?” Logan asked, leaning closer.

“Well, you and I are on babysitting duty while Storm and Jean head to Boston. The professor wants them to track down the mutant who attacked the president,” you explained.

“Sounds like a blast,” he said sarcastically.

“You’re not gonna run off again?” you asked, tilting your head.

“I can think of a few reasons to stick around,” he replied, his hazel eyes sparkling with mischief.

You leaned in, kissing him again, pulling him further from any potential onlookers.

“You make me crazy, Princess,” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips.

“Keep that energy for later,” you teased, tugging lightly at his hair. He closed his eyes and groaned softly, and you loved how he reacted to you.

“Before we get too carried away, I should check in with Charles,” he said reluctantly.

You both pulled away, and he lifted your hand to his lips, kissing it gently. “We’ll talk more later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied, watching him walk away with your heart swelling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, after a passionate evening together, you were exhausted and just wanted to curl up in bed with him. You slipped into pajama shorts and one of Logan's shirts, turning to find him deep in thought, staring at a photo of the two of you on his nightstand. It was a candid shot Storm had taken, capturing you both leaning into each other on the mansion’s couch, completely absorbed in conversation. The look of pure infatuation between you is palpable, even in the still image.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked.

He looked up, breaking from his trance. “Hmm? Nothing. I just think you look beautiful in this picture.”

You sensed he wasn’t telling the whole truth, but you didn’t press. “Wanna come to bed?”

He took your hand, and you both settled in, snuggled together. It didn’t take long for you to drift off, enveloped in his warmth. Logan, however, was still plagued by nightmares of his past or what he couldn’t remember of his past. After about forty-five minutes, he gave up on sleep, kissed you on the forehead, and quietly slipped out of bed.

In the kitchen, he searched for something to drink and found Bobby sitting at the island.

“Doesn’t anyone sleep in this place?” Logan grumbled, rummaging through the fridge.

Bobby shrugged, taking a sip from his drink. “You’d be surprised.”

“Is there any beer?” Logan asked.

“This is a school,” Bobby pointed out.

“Well, is there anything here besides chocolate milk?” Logan continued.

“There should be some soda in the cupboard over there,” Bobby pointed.

Logan grabbed a bottle of Dr. Pepper but hesitated before drinking it. Instead, he passed it to Bobby to chill it with his powers. As they continued talking, a noise caught Logan’s attention, and he walked out of the kitchen to investigate.

As he turned back, he spotted a soldier, camouflaged, stalking toward Bobby, who was turned the other way. Logan sprang into action, grabbing the soldier and twisting his arm behind his back.

“You picked the wrong house, bub,” he growled.

Suddenly, a sonic scream filled the mansion, forcing everyone to cover their ears. For Logan, with his heightened senses, it felt like his head was going to explode. The soldier broke free, opening fire in the kitchen.

You jolted awake, disoriented from the sonic screech. An armed man stood in your doorway. The pain in your head was overwhelming, and before you could react, he shot you in the neck with tranquilizer darts. Everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Logan fought through the chaos, he felt a sharp sting in his shoulder—three tranquilizers embedded in his skin and yanked them out. He fought through the brief haze, dispatching the soldiers around him. But as adrenaline coursed through him, his mind raced back to you. He had to know where you were—if you were okay.

He sprinted to his room, finding it empty. Panic clawed at him as he called your name. “Y/N!?”

He rushed toward the secret escape tunnel, spotting Colossus helping kids through a hidden opening.

“Have you seen Y/N?” Logan shouted.

“No,” Colossus replied, his face grave. “But I can help.”

“Help them,” Logan urged, pointing back toward the opening, his heart pounding as he fought his way back through the mansion.

When he spotted Bobby, Rogue, and John in danger, he leaped over the banister, taking out the soldiers and shouting for the kids to follow him. “Did you see Y/N?”

“No, but she probably made it out with the others,” Rogue said, her voice shaky.

Logan closed the escape hatch behind the kids, preparing for the incoming squad. “If you wanna shoot me, shoot me!”

“Wolverine, this is certainly the last place I’d expect to find you. How long has it been? Fifteen years? You haven’t changed a bit,” Stryker taunted, stepping into the light.

Logan’s claws extended, fury boiling within him. “Who are you?”

Stryker smirked. “I didn’t realize Xavier was taking in animals. Even animals as unique as you. Seems to be quite a life you’re trying to make for yourself. A home… a beautiful woman…”

From his pocket, Stryker pulled out a photo—the very one from Logan’s nightstand. They had you. Logan lunged forward, but a wall of ice sprang up between them.

“No!” he shouted, pounding on the ice.

“Logan, come on! Let’s go!” Rogue urged.

“He’s got Y/N!” Logan roared, his heart racing.

“We’ll get her back. Let’s go,” Bobby said firmly.

“Go! I’ll be fine!” Logan insisted, his determination unwavering.

“But we won’t!” Rogue plead.

Logan looked back at the wall of ice and then at the kids, torn between the two. Finally, he let out a frustrated huff and walked back to them. As they navigated the tunnel system, dark thoughts consumed him. The person he loved was captured. He might never see you again. He never got the chance to tell you he’d gladly run away with you, to live a life free from the chaos surrounding them. Tears welled in his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away, not wanting the kids to panic further. These fears haunted him throughout the drive to Boston.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up in a dim, concrete cell, surrounded by six kids from the mansion. Only two were conscious.

“Are you guys okay?” you asked, trying to remain calm.

They nodded. “We’re gonna be okay,” you reassured them, though doubt gnawed at you.

You tried to feel around with your powers for any ounce of water, but to your horror, you realized they were dampened. A faint blue glow illuminated the top of the cell—power dampeners.

After some time of comforting the kids, a soldier appeared in the grate above, drawing his gun.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, fear rising in your throat.

He pulled the trigger six times, one by one the kids collapsing around you with tranquilizer darts now back in their necks. “Please! They’re just kids!” you pleaded, desperation spilling from your voice.

An older, stockier man stepped out from behind the soldier. “Hello, Y/N,” Stryker said, his tone chilling.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, shaking.

“I’m trying to fix a problem,” he replied coolly.

“You’re the problem!” you shot back.

“Oh, contraire, my dear. Mutants are a threat to our way of life, and I intend to fix that by any means necessary.”

The soldier shot a taser at you, and pain coursed through your body, forcing you to the floor. A door opened to your cell, and another soldier approached, holding a vile.

He flipped you onto your stomach, brushing your hair away from your neck, and you felt a sharp pinch. Whatever they injected you with turned your world upside down. Everything faded to black once more.

[corvus-ix]

Yandere Jugram Haschwalth x F!SR!Reader

Note: Reader is female and a Soul Reaper, and I'm also not going to use (Y/N)/NAME in this fic.

Also this is my first time writing a a whole yandere one-shot

Warning: Yandere tendencies, Cussing, Maybe a little ooc Jugram

====================================

Summary: During the war against the Quincies, a Soul Reaper finds herself targeted by the Sternritter’s Grandmaster, Jugram Haschwalth. While she fights for her life, Jugram has other plans for her

===============================

The Soul Reaper stood amid the ruins of Seireitei, her breathing labored and her zanpakuto trembling in her hand. She had barely escaped a brutal fight with a large group of Quincy, but she knew she wasn’t safe yet.

Not yet, Quincy Soldier keep are almost everywhere

When she manage to escape and hide inside one of the ruin building

"Fucking damn it, I almost died back there"

She mutter under her heavy breath, trying to calm her own breathing

She lay her back at the wall of the building, closing her eyes hoping for a small rest before she head back out to continue fighting the invaders

“Why do you struggle?”

as a calm, deep voice was heard in the shadow not too far infront of her, dread filling her eyes as she start to shake uncontrollably

Eyes widening as a blonde and tall Quincy walk out of the shadow showing himself

His cold blue eyes staring at her, there was an intensity with how he stare at her but maybe it's because their at war with each other, she thought to herself. She quickly force herself to take a defensive stance, gripping her zanpakuto tighter turning her knuckles slightly white

“Who wouldn't struggle in a middle of a war...”

she replied, her voice shaking from the exhaustion that she barely get to recover from

“Hey pretty boy, can you be a gentleman and give me the name of the person I'm about to fight”

Slightly giving a cocky smile her voice more louder than earlier, hoping another soul reaper nearby hear her

The blonde quincy smiled faintly, a dangerous glint flickering in his eyes.

“I'am Jugram Haschwalth, Sternritter Grandmaster”

Her smile instantly drop as her body began to shake more, realizing that she's definitely fuck right now and wouldn't survive this fight

Jugram took a slow, deliberate step closer. “I’ve been watching you… your bravery, your determination, and your skill… It would be a waste for it to be crushed beneath this war.”

Her heart pounded as she watched he slowly approach her. She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or if there was something darker hidden behind those calm, dark eyes.

“If you know anything about me. . .

Then you should know I won’t back down. Not from you or anyone else.”

She reply as she try to stable herself

For a moment, he stop snd stare her in silence. Then, as if entranced, he murmured, “You’re right… That’s what drew me to you.”

"Fuck!"

Before she could swing her zanpakuto, Jugram moved with impossible speed, appearing just right in front of her with his sword unsheathe and the next thing she knew her zanpakuto is cut in half

Jugram move again with the same speed earlier, appearing just inches from her. She tried to raise her broken zanpakuto, but he caught her wrist effortlessly, as he put his sword back into it sheathe with his other hand before pulling her closer. The cold touch of his hand sent a shiver down her spine.

“There’s something about you,”

He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Something that makes me want to keep you close, to ensure that no harm comes to you. Even if you're our enemy.”

Her eyes widened as she process his words. She tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch

“You know that your spitting bullshit right now?

Keep me away from harm when you guys started this war and killed many of my friends and comrades!”

She spat out, heart pounding with a mix of fear, confusion, and anger.

Jugram’s gaze softened, a strange warmth in his usually cold eyes

“No matter how you see and feel about this matter, from this moment on, you belong to me. No harm will come to you… not from the Quincy, and certainly not from anyone from Soul Society.”

His tone turned possessive, almost desperate.

“I’ll protect you… whether you wish for it or not.”

She shook her head, panic flooding her veins.

“You’re insane! I’d never agree to this.”

Jugram's expression hardened, a dangerous edge returning to his gaze

“You misunderstand. This is not a choice.”

His other hand cupped her face, and for a brief moment, his touch was almost gentle. “You’ll understand in time… that no one can keep me apart from you”

As she struggled against his hold, the weight of his words settled over her like a curse. In the heart of the war Jugram took her away and confined her in the deepest corner of Silbern where no prying eyes could see her nor any eavesdroppers could hear her desperate cry for help

===============================

Extra note:

This fanfic is dedicated to Jugram birthday which is today 11/05

Look at this pretty birthday man🥰

[demonic0angel]

God!Danny and Servant!Damian

Damian stared at the long hallway of various knickknacks and doohickeys. The ever-changing wallpaper was cracked and peeling, sticky with a green substance. Bizarrely shaped and decorated doors would occasionally peek out from the mountains of loot. The tables that lined the hallway were filled with books and books and many random objects. The hallway was illuminated with a combination of different things, candles and chandeliers and crackling TVs and lightbulbs lighting up the way. At the very end of the long hallway was a lone door, unmarked and conspicuous in its simplicity.

Once he walked through that door, he would be able to complete his wish.

Something to his side caught his eye. It was a small picture of a family, one with many unique characters.

It reminded Damian of his own.

It reminded him of his failures, his goals, and his desires.

Wiping away the liquid that welled in his eyes, he turned and glared at the door that seemed more and more like the light in the darkness as well as his own personal demise.

Damian grit his teeth and began to run.

————

It all started simply. It was an average day, a normal afternoon as Damian bickered with his siblings as always. He and Timothy were rubbing on each other's nerves, only instigated further by Jason who would gleefully laugh every now and then whenever he sparked the dying fire.

Dick sighed and said, "C'mon you two. Why can't you just get along?"

"It's  because Damian knows that Tim is better than him at detective work." Jason said.

"Shut up, Todd!" Damian said as Timothy made a strange expression of both smugness and also exasperation. Despite knowing that Jason was deliberately goading them on, they still fell for it and walked right into another heated argument.

Dick only sighed further as his little siblings argued like children. The door to the command room opened with Batman sweeping in, Stephanie following him with a little skip to her step.

"Heya, everyone!" She greeted cheerfully while Batman flew past them to inspect the controls.

All of them were in a spaceship commandeered by the batfamily in a mission to inspect a small alien planet that had recently pinged itself on their radar. It was a dangerous new colony that had an ability to steal the memories of those that they had killed and use it to conquer new planets.

The batclan was currently in a mission to investigate if the rumors were true and to find any weaknesses.

"Father?" Damian asked, as he noticed Batman's tense body language. "What is the matter?"

".... Orphan hasn't come back from her stealth mission."

A ripple of dread went through the room. Timothy immediately sat down on a seat and began to pull up mission records. They updated it regularly as they went, and Cassandra had logged in for her mission a few days ago, but now she was several hours past her expected return. This was a bad sign, especially since it was only a reconnaissance mission, with little to no conflict and even if there was, Cassandra would've contacted them.

Something had gone very, very wrong.

Stephanie whispered, "No... she couldn't have been."

Jason gave a snort, although it was weak and filled with false bravado. "There's no way. She's probably trying to find some new information for us. She's stronger than that."

No one said anything.

His attempt at gathering hope failed.

"... fuck." Jason said quietly, as the worst of what could've happened finally sank its claws into his mind.

Everyone was aware that this current mission was one with high stakes. The alien race they were investigating was a dangerous one, and unknown at that. Although they expected danger, they hadn’t expected one of their own to actually get hurt.

Batman shook his head, a hand reaching out to clasp Jason's shoulder. "We'll find her and then we'll help her." He reassured him softly. It said a lot that Jason didn't shake off his touch.

A stone sank in Damian's stomach.

This was his first mission in outer space and he loathed how vulnerable he felt. In an effort to hide it, Damian scoffed to himself and straightened.

They all lifted their heads in unison, however, when a crash rang through the ship. Their gut instincts had alerted them to the danger a second beforehand, but it was still too late.

The light flickered off, inciting another gasp of panic. They all put on their masks to switch on their night vision.

Batman immediately pulled out several batarangs and said, "Dick, with me! The rest of you, stay here and be careful. We'll investigate."

"Fuck!" Jason screamed, louder. "Why am I not coming?!"

"I need you to protect your siblings!" Batman said before he ran off with Dick in tow.

"Grayson!" Damian couldn't help but yell. "Father, shouldn’t we stick together instead?!”

He couldn’t help the worry that stuck to his voice.

Dick swerved back before he could leave the control room and immediately pulled Damian into a hug. "Little Bat," he said softly. "Stay here and protect Stephanie and Tim, okay? They need it."

Damian wanted to protest at his reassurances, almost indignant at the idea that he possibly needed comfort, but he didn’t say a word as Dick stroked his back. Timothy didn't speak up either, completely silent. Damian knew that he was also feeling some sense of immense dread, their survival instincts giving them a premonition of danger and death.

Damian tried to hold his brother closer, eyes wide before Dick pulled away, pulling on a false smile.

"Be careful!" He screamed and then he left.

"This isn't good, this isn't good." Tim muttered as he furiously tapped on the keyboard to figure out what was going on. Everything was down, even their systems and now they just waited in the darkness for a signal of safety.

Jason cursed under his breath. "I should've been with them!" He muttered.

Damian pushed down his nausea and said, "Then let's go. With the computers down, there is no reason for us to stay here when we could go out and help them."

"Fuck, I'm going." Jason pulled out his guns and immediately began to load them with bullets.

"Dammit." Tim cursed and Stephanie pulled out her own bo staff and looked determinedly at them.

"Let's go." She said, and they all followed her as she left first.

They ran through the halls to get to the sector where the explosion had supposedly started. The air seemed stale and dark, and a distant 'ooh'ing noise like wind going through a hole disturbed them greatly. Damian wished he had his swords, but all he had was a bo staff and a few batarangs to protect himself.

His eyes searched the darkness. Stephanie and Timothy were next to each other, their shoulders almost bumping against each other's for comfort, while Jason trailed a little behind Damian, guns out and ready. Damian reassured himself that his family was safe. Cassandra was surely just fine and so would his father and Richard be. They would be okay.

They would all be okay.

There was another crash right in front of them and Stephanie screamed. Jason immediately shot into the dark, the bright flash of a gunshot illuminating the hall for a moment, showing just who came through the wall.

A grotesque monster with bulging, writhing black tentacles stared at them before the light faded. Jason relentlessly shot his bullets, but they seemed useless.

There was a short scuffle before a disturbing squelching noise.

Timothy gave a long, loud keen before his body blocked Damian's vision.

The last thing that Damian saw before Timothy was pulling him away was Stephanie's fallen body, a deep blackness covering her that would shine crimson red.

They ran.

The moment Damian was able to reconnect with his thoughts and surroundings, he pulled his hand out of Timothy's and said, "Brown! She's still back there!"

"No!" Timothy snapped, his voice sounding wrecked. "We have to run. I saw her. She's not coming back."

Jason cursed violently and they quickly skidded into the next hall, shutting the sealed doors for a moment.

"Fuck. It's them. They found Cassandra and took her memories." Jason said and Damian choked on his fear and shock.

Timothy shuddered visibly and then said, "I think they got Stephanie too."

Damian grimaced, hurt shooting through his chest like a bullet wound before he gasped.

"Father! And Richard! They—They went ahead of us!" It was almost instantaneous how both Jason and Timothy paled.

Jason smacked his hands over his eyes. "Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!!"

He took out his helmet and quickly put it on. "I'm going out. Maybe I can find them. Bruce is smart, he's probably still alive and I'll find them."

"You're not invincible, Todd." Damian snarled. "Let us come with you. If we die, we'll all die together."

"Like hell we will." Jason said curtly. "You little shits are gonna live because if another Robin dies, I'm...." He paused. He didn't know what to say.

None of them could find the words needed to comfort each other.

Damian's stomach dropped further into his feet, as if he was about to be sick.

Timothy reached out and grabbed onto Jason's sleeve. "Jason. You know it's a suicide mission. You can't go."

Jason reloaded his bullets and didn't say anything.

When he turned, Jason's helmet was still on his face as he stared at both Tim and Damian. Then he reached over to put a gloved hand on their heads and said, his voice crackling softly, "I gotta go, Robins. Protect each other. Be safe. I mean it."

His touch was heavy and warm, even through his glove. Damian stared at his akhi with wide, wet eyes.

Timothy screamed in shock and despair as Jason sealed that exit and then ran off. They heard the distant sounds of gunshots before they faded.

Timothy gasped for breath, tears flowing down his face but he quickly wiped them and then pulled on Damian's arms. "C'mon, Robin. It's up to us now. We have to get to the exit bay and hope that everyone else gets through this alive and back home."

No one voiced the fact that it would be near impossible.

As they ran, Timothy was furiously typing on his communicator. When they reached the ship bay, where extra spacecrafts were stationed and ready to fly, they found it blissfully empty.

Already suspicious, they snuck inside. Damian was almost irritated by the small gasps that left Timothy's throat but he understood, with the grief that seemed to eat through his stomach. After a moment, as they inched towards a spacecraft, Damian reached out to hold Timothy's hand and squeezed gently.

Timothy squeezed back and they both sped up to the spacecraft. They both worked together to open it up and get it ready for space travel when there was a distant roar.

Damian shuddered hard, goosebumps rising over his skin as he worked even faster, flicking on buttons and readying the controls and coordinates.

Timothy cursed and said, "Dammit. I can't message Earth."

Damian bit into his lip.

Nothing was going well. Where were their family?

Timothy handed Damian the communicator. For a moment, Damian just stared at it in confusion before he turned to Timothy with questioning eyes, his heart squeezing in his chest.

What was the meaning of this? Was Timothy possibly handing off their last chance of survival to him? For what reason?

"What is this for?" Damian snapped.

"Just hold it," Timothy said exhaustedly. "I need to go out and see if the exterior of the pod is functional for space travel. You stay here and stay inside while I go check outside."

"No! What if something happens and I am unable to stop it?" Damian said, his foot stomping once on the ground to emphasize his point.

Timothy didn't say anything as he started to walk down the ramp to the ground outside of the ship. Damian rushed forward to grab his hand and pull him back.

"Why must everyone sacrifice their lives?!" Damian shouted. "You don't need to do this! Let's just stick together!"

"Just shut up, Damian!"

"No! Let's leave now! I-I want to leave now!"

Timothy turned to him with a furious expression but whatever was on Damian's face made him pause. Then he pursed his lips together before pulling Damian in close.

They had never hugged before.

The closest they had ever been was whenever Damian lunged forward for a knife to Timothy's gut.

But this... this wasn't so bad. Damian's eyes burned with an urge to cry and he grabbed onto his brother's suit.

"We will be okay, Damian."

And just as he said that, he pushed Damian forward and through the aircraft as the aliens finally revealed themselves as well as the tentacle that now wiggled into Timothy's stomach.

It happened in an instant.

Damian couldn't even react as Timothy was impaled through his torso.

Blood spilled on the floor and through Timothy's mouth. Timothy coughed, more blood dripping down his chin. He inched forward as the tentacles seemed to pull him back. It was a slow thing, as Damian watched in frozen horror as Timothy moved towards him.

"Timothy!" He couldn't help but blurt it out. "You're going to be ripped in half, you imbecile!"

He took out a batarang, already formulating a plan to hopefully cut away the tentacle but then Timothy reached into his side pouch and took the access card out, slotting it into the card reader and smiling reassuringly at Damian as blood dripped from his lips and body.

"You'll be okay." He croaked, before a black blur shot out and impaled his skull, blood splattering over the doors as they quickly shut themselves.

The aircraft began to lift itself from the ground automatically as Damian screamed with rage and grief, his fist smacking into the door as he flew away. The last thing he saw before he sped off into space and back to earth was Timothy's limp body being dragged backwards.

Damian sank to his knees and didn't get up for a long time.

When he arrived back to Earth, it was useless.

Because Gotham was now gone.

————

Damian opened the door.

Inside was a wide, circular room with marble walls and floors. The ceiling was tall, and windows covered it, letting in golden light that lit up the room with an ethereal glow. In the middle of the room was a pool of water surrounding a tall tree on a little island.

Damian couldn't help the gulp of air that he took, rejuvenating him with a refreshing lightness like he was breathing in sunlight.

"Ah." A voice gasped softly. Damian whipped his head upwards and stared at a figure floating within the tree branches. "Hello."

This person wore white and black, their clothes all flowing around them. On their face was a deer skull, its horns stretching behind them as their white hair, strangely similar to Jason's unique white coloring, floated gently.

"Are you the God from the legends?" Damian asked, his voice sounding braver than he felt as the pressure of this being encased him.

"The legends? I suppose so. Do you have a wish, Damian al Ghul-Wayne?"

Damian flinched before his gaze hardened. "Yes. I would like to make a deal with you."

"I see." The god jumped off of the tree branch and floated in front of him. The air felt colder as they drifted closer to Damian. "What is your wish?"

"I want my family to live again."

The being paused. They tilted their head and then said, "Your family?"

"Yes." Damian paused and then clarified, "I want my entire family to be alive again. My father, all of my brothers, my sisters, my grandfather, and my extended family within Gotham."

"... a very big ask." The god murmured.

A chill rose within Damian and he said urgently, worried that his wish wouldn't be granted, "I am willing to do whatever it takes to have my wish granted. I can kill whoever you ask, I can offer my own body...! Anything, as long as my family is alive again."

The god tilted their head the other way. Then they said, "I see. Name your family."

Damian's breath hitched but before he did, he asked, "Will my wish be granted?"

"Yes."

Damian thrilled at that, before he paused. Then he asked carefully, "What is the price?"

The god turned to look at him. Their empty eye sockets, filled with a faint green glow, seemed to bore holes into his soul. "The price of the revival of your family is to sacrifice your life and eternity to me. You will offer your life, your death, and your eternity to me, for me to do whatever I wish."

Damian's breath stuttered. He paused, heart pounding as he debated with himself.

But who was he kidding?

There was no such question in the first place. Damian was not worth even an toe from his family. He wasn't even worth enough to even gaze upon their shoes.

Damian nodded firmly. "I agree to your deal. If I offer everything that I am to you, you will agree to revive my family as they once were?"

"They will be revived and reverted back to a time when they were once alive. They will be well and healthy, I assure you. With this deal, I can promise that they will live to old age."

Damian beamed. "Deal. My family's names are Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, and Timothy Drake."

The god seemed to give off an air of satisfaction. "Then, for the soul, eternity, and life and death of Damian al Ghul-Wayne, the aforementioned people will be revived and brought back to life."

They clapped their hands. "It's been done."

Damian couldn't tell if they were lying or not. Still, Damian was overjoyed at this piece of news. "Then... may I go see them?"

The god floated a bit in front of him. "No. You'll stay here, with me."

Damian paused, his stomach dropping and he wanted to smack himself for hoping. "I see. What will you have me do?"

Would they make Damian kill for them? Be a slave? Use his body? Would he have to sacrifice his body parts for them? Kidnap people? The possibilities were endless and although it made a bitter, sour taste go through his mouth, Damian did not dare complain.

The god seemed to be smiling as a broom appeared into existence in their hands. They handed it to Damian who grabbed it unsurely.

"Clean up."

————

And that was the beginning of how Damian became a servant of a lone God.

[bloody-cupcakes]

Love Quinn x yandere/dark! reader; you express your displeasure with her giving her attention to someone else

Tw: yandere/dark content, gender neutral reader, the reader and Love are married, toxic/unhealthy relationship, implied infidelity, kidnapping/murder, very brief mentioned wine drinking, pretty graphic self harm (cutting) used as a form of "punishment" (you'll see what I mean), Love is kind of scared of you but also loves you because of it, this is really gory and dark and I'm not even sorry

You watched from the background as Love spoke with one of the regular customers that frequented her bakery, trying not to scowl as they touched her arm and moved in closer. Couldn't they see the gold band on her ring finger? She was already taken by you, and they'd be stupid not to know that.

Love glanced over when she felt your eyes on her, trying not to react when she saw the stormy look in your eyes. It could mean so many different things, you looking at her like that, which meant she had no idea whether she should feel frightened, aroused, or angry. Maybe a combination of all three.

"Excuse me," she politely spoke to the customer before making her way over to you. "Hey, honey. How are things? I wasn't expecting you to come visit the bakery today." She smiled, that bright, charming smile that you so adored. If you hadn't been so pissed off, you might've smile some yourself.

"Who was that person you were talking to?" You asked instead, subtly pointing in their direction.

"Oh, them? They're just a customer. They come in once a week to try a new pastry." She merely shrugged it off, trying to act natural as she walked past you, heading for the kitchen in the back.

"Is that the only reason why they come in?" You further pressed while you followed behind her, not ready to drop the subject just yet.

Love stopped and turned to face you. "What are you trying to imply here, exactly?" She snapped, her tone firm and harsh. Anyone else, and they would've cowered in fear, apologizing before quickly running for cover.

But you weren't just anyone. You were her spouse, and more importantly you weren't afraid of her, despite knowing what she was capable of.

"You know what," you hissed out in an equally harsh tone, narrowing your eyes as you glared at her. "I know you've been cheating on me, I just didn't think you would be so stupid as to do it right in front of my face."

She scoffed, as if offended by your words. "Don't be ridiculous, I'm not cheating. You're just paranoid. Now, get out. I have orders to fill, and I don't need you of all people getting in my way."

Despite the resentment you were currently harboring towards her, you did as she said. Besides, you had your own work to keep you busy.

Later that night, she returned home to find her not-so-secret lover tied up and dead in the kitchen. She both admired and resented you for your determination to get rid of anyone who thought they could touch your wife and get away with it.

"Hello, dear," you greeted casually as you sat at the kitchen table, a glass of wine in one hand and a small knife in the other. "Please, won't you sit with me?"

She gulped, knowing better than to argue. "What, um, what are you going to do with that knife?"

"Oh, I think you know." Setting down your wine glass, you pulled up your sleeve and held out your arm wrist up, positioning the knife over the skin there.

"No, please-" she gasped as she realized what you were going to do. It wasn't the first time you'd cut yourself as a punishment for her infidelity, and you doubted it would be the last.

"You know better than to fool around with people behind my back. And since their death doesn't seem to have that big of an affect on you, maybe this will."

Holding the knife in a steady grip, you took it and slowly cut open the inside of your arm, barely flinching when the blade hit your skin. She watched with horror as you cut yourself, her heart starting to beat rapidly inside her chest as panic and dread bubbled up inside her, threatening to explode.

"D- Don't! Don't do that, please -" she begged desperately, tears filling her eyes and streaming down her cheeks in salty rivers of sorrow. The mere sight alone of your blood spilling out onto your skin was enough to send her into a fit. "I'm so, so sorry, I'll- I'll never cheat on you again, honey, I swear, I swear I won't-"

You tried not to allow a smirk to crack your otherwise aloof expression, well aware that you were about to get exactly what you wanted. Her, you would never dream of hurting in a million years. Not physically, anyway. But emotional manipulation? Now, that was right up your alley.

"Sh, Love. It's alright, it's okay," you murmured gently as you set down the knife, which was now stained with your blood. "Go get me the first aid kit so we can fix this, alright?"

She nodded her head in agreement, obeying your command as she quickly got up and left to find the first aid kit for you. When she returned, she sat down next to you, her tears having mostly dried despite the lingering proof of her sudden outburst on her face: her lashes were wet and dewy, and her eyes were puffy and red.

You knew just how much it tore her apart to see you get hurt, especially if it was you hurting yourself over something she did. After this, you had no doubt that she'd think twice about running into the arms of someone else, and that she'd have all of her attention on you for at least the next few months. The thought alone made you want to smile.

Her hands were shaking as she carefully cleaned the wound and patched it up, and you could tell she felt guilty for being the one to cause such a thing. "I'm sorry," she breathed out in a trembling voice, her bottom lip stuck out in a sad and apologetic pout. "I'm so, so sorry, I- I never, ever meant for something like this to happen."

If her lover's dead body that was still residing in the kitchen gave her cause for outrage before, it was certainly forgotten about by now. Everything was playing out exactly as you'd hoped.

You reached your hand out to hold her cheek, giving her a reassuring look as you used your thumb to wipe away a stray tear. "I know you didn't, sweetheart. It's alright, I'm not upset with you." Not anymore, anyway. Certainly not after teaching her a lesson she'd remember for a good long while.

[raenizza]

In n' Out (NSFW)

Summary: Jey Uso uses you as his own personal Fleshlight for the night.

Characters/Pairings: Jey Uso x Black Reader, Jey Uso x Black OC, Jey Uso x Reader

Word Count: 2,429

Warnings: Cawk Sucking, Angry/Sassy Jey, Cursing and Ushy Gusy noises

Author’s Note: Hello My Loves!! It feels like forever since I’ve written something for you guys so I thought since I have all this free time, why not give you a little NSFW treat?

~~

After a long and dreadful road trip, you finally got to settle inside of the 5-star hotel room, you and Jey shared together. The hotel was so big, you thought for a quick second at how much space the “living room” area was. 

You couldn’t wait to explore the place and its entirety. But first things first, sleep. You decided to look for the bedroom, upon discovering its well-decorated beauty you flopped your aching body tirelessly on the bed. 

Resting your feet directly on top of a pillow that Jey had placed on the end of the bed for you. 

You took a deep breath in and closed your eyes as you felt yourself finally feeling relaxed and at peace, while also thinking about your husband accompanying you and sharing the moment with you.

Also coming into thought on how he decided to “quickly” handle some business downstairs before coming back up. Thinking about this alone, made you feel a bit agitated. You want-, no no no, you need him all to yourself this time. No ifs or buts about it. Just you and your man. 

You calmed yourself down a bit as you came to a realization that he might be really tired after working on whatever the hell he doing. And just as that thought crossed your mind, you heard the hotel door slam open. The sudden bang shook you up instantly.

You immediately ran to the living space of the hotel room, watching your man storm in with such anger. Clearly, somebody pissed his ass off to the highest point. 

“FUCK BROO!!” Jey yelled out as he sped through the living and towards the bedroom, not even making eye contact, he headed straight to his suitcases and bags. 

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” You asked in a concerning manner. 

“FUCKING ASSHOLE BRUH!!!” Jey yelled out once again. He was searching for something in his bag but couldn’t find it. 

“Baby! Just tell me what it is and I can help you find it!” You screamed back at him, trying to offer help. But it was no use, he just ignored you and kept scrambling across the room. 

He started looking under the bed, in the drawers of the nightstand, and then back to his luggage. He looked like a madman as he continued his vigorous search in the bedroom. Jey’s face was red and filled with rage and anger.  

You knew he was really angry because of his use of foul language and the volume of his voice lowered. The nigga got quiet all of a sudden, which scared you indefinitely. Jey was moving so fast, he was practically sprinting from the living room space to the bathrooms to the kitchen and then back to the bedroom. 

You didn’t want to make him more angry than he already is but you really wanted to help him in every way possible.

“Baby, please whatever it is-” Before you can even finish, he pulled up from looking under the couch. 

“You wanna help?!!” He said in a distressed tone. He walked right up to you as if you were a threat. 

“YES! I just want to help you find whatever you’re looking for You don’t have to act like- ” He cuts you off immediately.  You felt his heavy breath over your face. This was the first time he actually looked at you. His eyes were dark and emotionless. You narrowed yours right back at him with softness and innocence.

“ACT LIKE WHAT??!!” He screamed, at this point shouting to you as if you were 10 feet away.

“LIKE  A DAMN ASSHOLE!” You shouted right back to him. Jey gives her a deathly glare, shocked by your response.

At this point, you start to realize that you don’t appreciate the way Jey is acting. And as of this moment, you know that he’s been frustrated and angry before, but not like this. Not ever, like this. You understand that he is upset and may need some space to cool down but it doesn’t give him the right to release that energy on you.

Jey took a step back to continue his search for whatever he was in search of, but he stopped midway in his tracks. He looked back at you and felt bad. Not only for just how he reacted but also for his whole attitude in general.

“C’mere.” His voice was hoarse from all the screaming. You obliged and walked slowly towards him. He grabbed you by the waist, then let his left hand trail up towards your neck, wrapping his thick fingers around your throat, and pulling your face close to his.

He kissed you deeply. His tongue swirled in your mouth, dominating yours. You moaned against his movements and the grip he had on your slender throat. He wanted you, desperately. You started to massage his bulge through his sweatpants. 

“Mhmm.” he growled at your touch. His aggressive nature turned you on, which raised your boldness. You started to untie his pants in between kisses, pulling them down, and exposing his bright red boxers. 

Breaking away from the kiss, you immediately went down on your knees, getting into a position to satisfy his flesh. As you pulled his thick brown shaved 5-inch peen out and began stroking it, he bucked his hips towards you. Groaning at each and every stroke. You spat on your hand, making it wet and slippery. You placed his tip on your lips as you began nibbling, but then he stopped you.

“Wait, wait. First Lesson. You wait for MY instruction. You understand?” he said to you in a husky tone. You nodded in response.

“When I give you permission to wrap yo mouth around my dick that’s when you go down, got it?” 

“Mhmm,” you said shaking your head. 

“Now keep stroking my dick. There you go. Mhmm There you go, Mama” You stroked him slow and steady. Not breaking eye contact with him. His tatted chest heaving as he watches you stroke him. 

“Sexy ass lips. So full and plump. Yea, that shit feels so good.” Jey moaned out to you as you continued to stroke his thick 7-inch dick pulling your face closer toward him.

“Slowly, slowly. That’s it. There you go. Oooooo. Just the tip baby, we goin’ work it. We goin get it all the way down ya throat.” He says to you staring deep into your big brown eyes.

“Stroke that. Stroke that shit, baby.  Just look at me and nod. Uh-huh.” You looked right at him, nodding in agreeance. 

“Look at me. Keep your eyes on me. Keep your eyes on me, Mama.” Without breaking contact Jey slightly tapped his tip up against your lips. 

“Open ya mouth now.” He says as he inserts himself into your warm mouth.

“Good girl. Take a lil more. That’s it.” Inching his entire tip into you. Your mouth widened at his girth and length.  This is only the tip you thought to yourself, and you are already struggling. You slowly bobbed your head back and forth on him, tasting him on your tongue. His precum tasted oh so sweet as slid across your tastebuds. The wet sounds of your mouth sucking his tip filled the room. 

Jey started to feel himself get angsty as he wanted more of your warmness around you. His hand surrounds your throat once again, guiding you to his next movements.

“You trust me?” He asks to you. 

“Mhmm.” You moaned against his tip, causing him to groan in response.

“Imma fuck ya throat, okay? Don’t fight me. Don’t fight me, open ya mouth baby.”

You opened your mouth wide enough for Jey to slide his entire length inside. He felt so thick and big against the inside of your cheeks. Jey continued to grind himself into you, slowly fucking your throat. His tip just barely reaches the back of your throat.

“Uuuhhhh Just stay loose for me baby.” You tried to loosen yourself up more for him.  

“You so fuckin’ pretty with my dick in your mouth.” He watches you as you take him whole. Fucking your throat deeply, teasing him into wanting to feel the inside of you so badly.  Your mouth wasn’t enough for him at the moment.

“Fuckkkkk.”He blurted out as his balls started to slam against your chin.  He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed you right now.

“C’mere.” Jey says as he pulls himself out of you, picking you up just by the throat and arm, he throws you over his shoulder. Jey sped to the bedroom, immediately throwing you on the bed. He finished undressing himself as he hopped on the mattress, undressing you. He started rip your shirt and jeans off in one swift motion. 

“I need you right fucking now.” Jey growled to you as rips your panties, exposing your glistening, wet pussy. You were so taken aback by his abruptness that you couldn’t even speak.

“Baby please,” you whispered to him. Jey ignored you as you as he slid his thumb across your clit. Rubbing your slit with your juices covering his fingers, he bent down, his face just inches away from your wet pussy. Jey watched you throw your head back.

“Mhmm Babe.” signaling him to enter just a finger in, he wanted to so bad, just looking at your reaction to his gestures teases him just a slight bit. He brought himself closer to you, his breath hovering over your entrance, lips grazing just at the slit of your pussy. Grillz gleaming.

“Fuck, please just-” He pulled himself back. Remembering quickly that he is in control and whatever he says goes. 

“Nah. Sit up.” He got back up and placed himself at your entrance. Sliding his brown dick up and down your pussy, covering himself with your juices. 

Jey took himself in, feeling every bit of your warm insides, your tight wet walls hugging his thick hard long man meat. You loved feeling him inside of you, he began thrusting himself, without warning. 

Shifting his body in missionary, you felt his movements quicken with every stroke. His forceful manner displays all in the way he’s fucking you. 

“Mhmm baby easy-” you pleaded. 

“Shut up.” He responded swiftly with no hesitation. Jey’s mission wasn’t to soften you up, he wanted to fuck you. Deep, Long, and Hard. That was his mission. Jey wanted you now and only you. 

“You goin take every inch of dis dick, understand?” He said breathlessly in between strokes. 

“Fuckkk.” Jey moaned out as he watched you arch your back and moan in ecstasy. He loved every single moment of it, which turned him on even more, causing him to fuck you even faster.

His skin, now slapping against yours, floods the room. His hot breathing and moans echo in your ear. Jey was not stopping and you didn’t want him to either. As he continues to stroke himself deep into you, all you can think of is how much you need this. How much you wanted him to take control of you and tell you what you needed to do.

Jey made sure that you felt all of him inside of you.  You felt that shit all in your stomach. You started to tap him on his side, signaling him to slow down a bit, since you started to feel a slight discomfort. He carefully obliged and kissed you on your cheek. 

“I’ll go a little slow now, baby, I’m sorry.” He whispers to you as his strokes start to lessen in speed. Jey pulled your hip away from his and began massaging your thigh, although he was a bit aggressive, he doesn’t want to hurt you in the process of pleasuring you. He would never do no shit like that to you.

“It’s okay, Mama, just take it easy on me.” He looked at you, deep and lustful. He kisses you all over, focusing mainly on your forehead. 

Jey placed one of his fingers over your clit as he uses the other to lift one of your legs. He positioned himself directly in front of you as he pulled up not breaking any eye contact. The first thought that raced in your mind was “oh damn, this nigga is about to go poundtown.” 

And that is exactly what he did. Jey started to pound himself into you in a way that wasn’t so hard as the first time around. He rubbed your clit and gave you little smooches in the process. 

“Shitttt” Jey muttered under his breath. Feeling every bit down to his balls slapping against your anus. Jey was putting in work and was not planning on stopping until you gave the say-so. 

The room was filled with the love sounds you two made, his grunting, and your moans. The only thing that rushed through your head was how good it felt to have him on top and inside of you. Pleasuring you every second, feeling him fucking you, his dick going  In n’ Out. 

You felt a warm and tingling sensation down in your abdomen, feeling yourself getting close to climax as you tighten yourself around his dick. 

“Fuck, bae you gripping my shit huh” he whispered his hot breath into your ear. 

“You close baby?” He asked looking at you.

“Yesss” you moaned out to him looking right back at him, as your nails dug into his back, marking him. He loves it when you do that, it makes him want you to come even more. 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, please, please” you said in between each stroke. 

“Cum on this dick, baby” Jey in a deep and passionate tone. 

“Cum right on your dick. That’s it, that’s right. Get your nut baby. Get your fucking nut.” As he talks you through your orgasm, over and over again your legs start to shake. He started to kiss you, softly, as his strokes began to slow in pace. He held you close and tight, as you wrapped both your arms and legs around him. 

“Damn. That was-” Your eyes rolled back

“Yeah.” He said as he rolled on his back, pulling you on top of him.

“Baby, did you even-”

“I’ll get mine, I was just focused on you.” He says while holding you to his chest as you both lay in bed together. The only noise that could be heard was the sound of heavy breathing coming from both of you. 

“What were you looking for anyways?”  You breaking the silence.

“Don’t worry. I already found it.” He said with a smirk.

[ingravinoveritas]

Hello, lovely followers. I was traveling for work again in the second half of this past week, but I'm now home and looking forward to answering all of your Asks that I've been seeing in my inbox. I first wanted to reflect a little bit, however, because this trip was also a personal one for me.

This week's travels took me to Anaheim, California, which is where Disneyland is (I think I actually must've not been far from where David and Georgia just were, funnily enough, as my hotel was right by the park). It wasn't my first trip to Anaheim, though. The last time I was there was when I was 11 years old, on summer vacation with my dad in California while my mom was on a tour in Italy at the same time. As you'd expect, my dad wanted to take me to Disneyland...but I was too scared and overwhelmed, and we only ever got as far as the parking lot. The gates were visible, and I remember how they loomed, that feeling of something foreboding washing over me...but rather than excitement, my tiny body was filled with dread. I mentioned this while in conversation with one of the hotel employees during my stay, and he said, "What kind of kid doesn't want to go to Disney?"

What kind of a kid. Well, an autistic kid. A kid who was constantly anxious, emotional, and terrified of sensory overload. A kid who hated crowds and noise and rides. A kid who didn't travel well to begin with, because she was afraid of new places, anything unfamiliar, anything that wasn't safe and home.

A kid who was me.

Even before this, there were so many ways that the world had said "This is not for you." But still, there was something different about it happening there, in the bright California sunshine. My favorite Disney princess as a kid was always Belle, because she also loved to read and didn't fit in with the people around her. Belle connected more with books and animals than people, and that made me connect with her. But Belle was also beautiful (as Disney princesses tend to be), and thanks to the bullying from my peers, I was very aware that was something I was not. So no matter how much I wanted to be Belle, there was no way I could ever be a Disney princess.

This is not for you.

Thinking about all of this during my trip made me feel so many things, but I was most surprised to find myself feeling a sense of nostalgia in particular, a longing for the child I was, who I wish I could comfort. It also made me feel such sadness for that child and anyone else who finds themselves in a situation or a place where the world thinks they should be happy, but they're not. And there are few things more difficult than feeling that way in (of all places) "the happiest place on Earth."

I didn't end up going to Disney on this trip, even though I had a little bit of time to do so. It's still not for me, but the difference now is that I am okay with that. That need to be the kid who wants to visit Disney--the "good" child, the child who isn't "broken"--has gone away, and I'm more than happy being adult me, and finding a place that fits me, instead of the other way around.

And that was my nostalgia trip, in quite the literal sense of the phrase. I have a picture or two to share in another post, so stay tuned for that as well...