#his true form his very nature is changed by his decisions

[riddled-fingers]

you guys dont understand how emo i am abt this,,,,

#spn spoilers #castiel #spn #my art #fanart #im so. AUUUGHHHHHHH #i cannot put this into words but it fucking hurts #castiel really sacrificed everything huh #his true form his very nature is changed by his decisions

[flowerandblood]

Brother, Lover, Son (Oneshot)

The Impossible Choice Series Special Chapter

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! �� female ]

[description: Aemond is sent to Storm's End by his father to be trained in the nature of battle and warfare under Borros Baratheon eye, in preparation for his future role as commander of his brother's army. He is to choose one of his daughters as his future wife, but Borros only allows him to choose between four of them when his true desire is awakened by his fifth and youngest child.]

[warnings: sex content, virginity loss, fingering, masturbation, kissing, smut, angst, sexual tension, domination, violence, kind of incest but not actually]

This oneshot is an alternate reality from The Impossible Choice Series where, according to Aemond's words in Chapter 49, he is sent to Storm's End by his father when he is still just a child. It shows what would happen and how it would affect Aemond and Lady Baratheon, what his relationship with Borros, Royce and her other sisters would be like. This chapter stands apart from the main story and is a big, long "what if". This is very long oneshot (over 15.000 words).

Part two of this oneshot: To desire, to love, to care

Other oneshot form the same AU: Daugther, Lover, Sister

Brother, Lover, Son Inside Alphabet

Moodboards before you start reading and want feel the mood:

Aemond and Lady Baratheon • Storm's End Stronghold • Baratheon Family • Lady Baratheon Gowns • Aemond • Lady Baratheon Mother

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

Main story and my other fics: Masterlist

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He was unable to understand his father's decision. The night after their conversation, after the king had conveyed his will to him he had cried with rage, lying with his face pressed against his pillow, his barely healed scar from Luke's cut burning and itching more than usual.

"I've decided that you will spend a few years in Storm's End, preparing for your role as commander under the tutelage of Lord Borros Baratheon. After what has happened you need a change of environment, son. It'll do you good."

He wept quietly, remembering those words for the hundredth time. He thought with grief that what he needed was not a change of environment, but a father who would come in time, save him from his nephew's cut, support him later in front of everyone, hug him and comfort him.

Meanwhile, despite the fact that he had managed to tame the largest dragon that now walked the earth his father was getting rid of him. He thought that the lack of an eye made him now forever defiant in his eyes and he wanted to hide him somewhere far away from the world, condemning him to oblivion.

His mother begged his father to change his mind, but he said that his son was already eleven years old and would soon be a grown man, and she could visit him whenever she wanted.

Whether he wanted it or not, a week later he was standing in the courtyard wrapped in his crying mother's arms. Aegon yawned, looking around, Helaena was staring at her hands, thoughtful, and small Daeron sobbed loudly not understanding why he had to leave.

He only grunted, looking at them, not knowing what to say. He simply nodded, turned and walked away, not wanting to cry in front of everyone like a little child.

When he reached Storm's End on Vhagar a heavy rain was pouring down all around him, through which he could see very little. He struggled to land near the fortress, and travelled a long distance on foot before encountering guards who came out to meet him and led him straight into the great stone stronghold.

Frozen and with a pounding heart he stepped inside, the keep seemed huge and cold to him, his wet footsteps echoing loudly and disturbingly all around him.

He was led into a large circular hall and saw a tall, massive, bearded man before him. He was strongly built, his shoulder-length hair was as dark as his beard, his thick eyebrows furrowed in displeasure, which he recognised that he was the reason for.

"What is the meaning of this? Why haven't you given him dry clothes yet?" He almost roared at his guards, who only nodded, moving immediately back towards the corridor.

"Royce!" The man called out in a voice so tubular that it echoed loudly throughout the hall, making him swallow heavily. He tried to keep an indifferent face, but he could feel his legs trembling.

Suddenly, a boy, taller than him and reminding him a bit of Jace, ran into the hall through a side entrance. He had short, curly hair and big brown eyes.

"Lead Prince Aemond to his chamber. Let him rest, and then both of you come to the feast." He said in a firm, unobjectionable voice from which his heart trembled.

His father-king had never spoken like this and he did not know how to act.

Royce, however, did not seem at all bothered by his father's harsh tone. He approached him with a light step and bowed, looking at him curiously. He swallowed loudly.

"Follow me, My Prince." He said, and he simply moved behind him, snorting quietly with his nose.

They moved up the grand, richly carved stone staircase. Royce was walking so fast that it was hard to keep up with him. They turned into one of the main corridors, then Royce opened a wooden door and invited him inside.

He stepped into his chamber and realised to his surprise that this room was even bigger than the one he had lived in the Red Keep. There was already a fire in the fireplace, the warmth of the flames making him tremble a little less. Royce looked at him and opened the dresser, pulling out a chemise and trousers, glancing at him.

"Get changed. Unfortunately such fine weather here is normal. You'll have to get used to it. Dinner will be in an hour, father doesn't like anyone to be late. Make yourself comfortable." He said and patted him on the shoulder, stepping around him and walking out, leaving him with an embarrassed expression on his face.

No lord had ever touched him so brazenly or spoken to him so directly, but yet he felt some kind of relief after he had done so. He thought that perhaps such gestures were made between friends, brothers, and swallowed quietly.

This was not his family.

He had been sent here as if to some great stone prison.

After a few minutes or so, the servants brought trunks with his belongings, which had been brought in several carriages, and he changed into an attire he thought appropriate for supper. A plump, smiling woman then entered his chamber and informed him that she would be his servant and that he could ask her for anything he needed. He felt strange.

He knew they were kind to him because he was a prince. Because his father and Lord Baratheon had decided that he would one day marry one of his daughters. They could not offend or discourage him. He pressed his lips together at the thought and decided that he would not fall for this cheap pity.

He wondered for a moment how he was supposedly going to get to the hall where the feast would be, but a few minutes before the appointed time Royce knocked on his door asking if he was ready. They went there together.

They entered a great hall from the ceiling of which hung a huge candlestick, behind a long table stretched a fireplace from which a fire gushed, on an oak table spread a whole lot of dishes he had not seen before.

He noticed, surprised, that Lord Borros had already eaten, ignoring the fact that not everyone was yet at the table, nor that he, the prince, had yet to sit down. He swallowed quietly, sitting down in the seat Royce had indicated to him, the curious glances of his sisters made him lower his head, embarrassed.

They were looking at his eyepatch, at his scar.

He wanted to hide, to disappear.

Suddenly he heard a squeal from under the table that Royce had just ducked under and pulled out a little girl laughing so loudly he felt uncomfortable. She tried to pull away from her brother, but he held her tight and pinched her flushed cheek.

"This is where you hid, little rascal. I'm sorry, this is no longer your place, from now on Prince Aemond sits here." He explained to her, and she stopped squirming, looking at him with furrowed brows and tightened lips.

He glanced at her, thinking she was about to start crying as loudly as she laughed, but she glanced back at Royce.

"Fine. He can sit there, but you can't." She burbled, jabbing her brother in his arm with her finger, stepping under the table again and appearing on the other side, taking the empty seat next to her other sister, the only fair-haired girl, who sighed heavily as she looked at her.

"Sit down. Don't act like an animal." She said, correcting her on the seat, her younger sister looked at her resentfully but said nothing. "What do you want to eat?"

She asked her as if she were her mother, and the girl pointed her finger at the roast. Lord Borros' low, firm voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"Eat. Don't be shy. This is your home now." He said, glancing at him with his piercing brown eyes, putting some more meat on the platter beside him and handed it to him.

He swallowed, nodded and took a bit for his plate. Throughout the feast he had been frustrated by the attentiveness of Lord Borros' daughters, except perhaps the youngest, who was too savage to concentrate on anything.

He had hardly slept through the night, curling up in his bed, trying not to cry from sadness and longing. He wanted to return to King's Landing, to a place where the sun greeted him every day, not rain and clouds. Where there was his library to hide in, his garden, his mother and his heritage.

He felt lost, lonely, forsaken.

His maid brought him his breakfast in the morning, warm milk with a platter of rolls and vegetables he liked. He wondered how she knew this and whether Lord Borros had asked his mother about it before. Then Royce came into his chamber and said that in an hour he would be training with his father in the courtyard for hand-to-hand combat and he could join them if he wished.

He wasn't sure he wanted to.

He was afraid of humiliation.

However, he recognised that Lord Borros could not see him as a weak coward, so he went downstairs, having previously dressed in the clothes designed for training, entering the courtyard from the side, through the cloisters, and stopped, looking at the square in front of him in disbelief.

Indeed Lord Borros and Royce were practising, both of them with wooden swords in their hands, all sorts of targets and shields around them, on tables surrounding them weapons he had not even seen in King's Landing. What he did not understand, however, was what his youngest daughter was doing there with them.

"Stand firmer on your feet. Improve your posture." Borros shouted loudly at her as she pushed against Royce with vigour, her wooden sword even smaller than his, her dark hair tied up in a braid, determination and focus in her big, bright eyes.

Royce deflected her attack and with a single, powerful blow knocked her wooden sword out of her hand a few metres away. She immediately ran after him, picking it up off the ground.

"Are you holding that sword or not?" Asked frustrated Royce, throwing his sword over his shoulder. "You need to have a stronger grip, focus."

"I'm trying!" She called out, running back to him and stopped, spotting him standing in front of the fortress entrance.

"Prince Aemond is here!" She exclaimed joyfully, and he blushed and lowered his head, embarrassed, feeling as if he had been caught in the act, even though he had done nothing wrong.

Borros and Royce immediately turned their gazes towards him, Lord Baratheon running the hilt of his sword over the sand.

"Come here." He said in a commanding voice, without any further pleasantries. He pressed his lips together at the thought that Criston had always addressed him with respect, not forgetting his titles.

He swallowed loudly, walking towards them with his head lowered, pale, prepared for humiliation. Royce threw a wooden sword in his direction, which he caught in flight.

"Ready?" The boy asked him, and he nodded. Royce thrust at him suddenly, his blow swishing through the air, but he jumped back, spinning, trying to hit him from the side.

Royce blocked his blow and pushed him away, but he swished his sword once more, hitting him with all his strength on the shoulder. Royce hissed and recoiled, furrowing his brow, and he froze and stopped, swallowing loudly, looking at Lord Baratheon in horror. His daughter who stood beside him clapped her hands, a wide smile on her face. Borros nodded.

"Good. Royce, what did you do wrong?" His father asked, and Royce sighed heavily.

"I didn't dodge on my knees." He said resignedly, looking away, closing his eyes. His father hummed under his breath.

"Exactly. How many times do I have to tell you. Footwork is key! Again." He ordered, Royce sighed, the expression of displeasure gone from his face.

They had had several fights with each other, already more evenly matched, Lord Baratheon after each one giving them remarks or showing them what they were doing wrong. Aemond swallowed loudly as he turned to him.

"You have very good technique, but you are too tense in your shoulders. Relax them and your swing will be wider, you will be able to reach your enemy from a greater distance. Do you understand?" He asked and he nodded, unable to get the words out, his heart was beating like crazy.

His advice worked, he could feel in his hand that his sword was reaching farther, he hit Royce in the chest and he caught himself and hissed. Lord Borros came up and patted him firmly on the shoulder.

"Good. Just like that. Royce, legs." Borros said to him, and he felt his cheeks go red, his belly filled with some kind of pride he didn't want to feel.

When they had finished and Borros said they could go and rest he thought Royce would lurk somewhere in the middle of the fortress and beat him up for the warm words from his father. Aegon always took it out on him later when he won some sparring match organised by Cole saying that he had humiliated him in front of everyone.

Royce, however, seemed to have forgotten all about the training, hot and sweaty, saying he was thirsty and hungry. He told him they could go to the pantry together, and he nodded, although he'd never been in such a place before.

They went down into the underground, there were servants walking around them, but they didn't seem to pay any attention to them, as if Royce's presence was normal for everyone. Royce went into one of the rooms and took two apples for them, on the way one of the servants asked him if they preferred to eat something warm.

"No." Said Royce, throwing him the other apple, turning back. They ate as they walked down the long, stone-cold corridors. He wondered if he could ask him about it, he couldn't hold his curiosity any longer.

"Do you have a library here?" He asked feigning indifference, biting into the sweet flesh of the fruit. Only now did he feel the stress leave him, his stomach growling with hunger. Royce looked at him puzzled.

"Yes, but it's rarely used. I can show you where it is if you want."

As promised, Royce took him to a gigantic room made up of huge stone bookcases filled to the brim with dusty tomes. Indeed, the place looked as if no one had looked there for a long time.

He knew that Lord Borros could not read. However, he wondered if his children couldn't do it either. He glanced at Royce and wondered if it was appropriate for him to ask such things. So far Royce had been nice to him and was the only boy his age he could talk to about anything. He figured he'd phrase the question so as not to give himself away.

"Don't you like books?" He asked casually, eating further, strolling across the room with him. Royce shrugged his shoulders.

"I like books about the war, but they have a lot of difficult words that I don't understand. My mother explained to me that they were difficult books for adults and that I could try to go back to them when I was older." He said calmly, and he swallowed loudly, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

Their mother was dead, but he wouldn't dare ask what had happened to her.

He hummed under his breath at his words and nodded.

"Sometimes I take books from here to read to my sister before bed. The youngest one you saw in the square today." He said, taking one of the books from the shelf, looking through it without much concentration. He looked at him thoughtfully.

"Why is your little sister practising with you?" He asked, completely not understanding what she was doing there, having never seen any girl their age in King's Landing take an interest in such things before.

"And why not?" Royce replied with a question to question, shrugging his shoulders. He was surprised by this answer and did not know what to reply.

"She cried terribly when I didn't want to take her with me. She insisted on sword fighting and that's it. Didn't one of Aegon the Conqueror's sister-wives fight with a sword?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

He pressed his lips together, refraining from saying that the Targaryens were not like other people and not to compare them, but he decided it was rude and left the subject.

From then on, he found his asylum in the forgotten library of Storm's End, where he spent his afternoons after training with Royce and writing off his mother's letters.

Although he still felt lonely, Royce was good company, not imposing on him, having his barriers, respecting his space. He wasn't spiteful and didn't look down on girls the way Aegon did, didn't beat him surreptitiously when his father wasn't watching, didn't play silly jokes or mischief on him.

He was a good friend.

He liked to climb up to the small half-floor of the library from which he had a view of the whole place, settling in there with a few books and something to eat, spending long hours there.

One day, however, he heard, startled, as the door to the room opened, Borros's youngest daughter ran inside like a storm, approaching one of the bookcases. She struggled to pull some book off a shelf she couldn't reach, and he watched her efforts without a word. He wondered if he should help her, and then decided he didn't need to do anything for her.

The girl finally took the chair and stood on it, this time grabbing what she wanted. He blinked as she got off the chair and sat down on it, looking through some sort of large, colourful book, he could see from a distance how many illustrations it had.

He thought curiously that he would take it as soon as she had gone, however, she sat down comfortably and browsed further, wiggling her legs that did not reach the ground.

He sighed quietly and flipped the page of his book, discouraged, and she then lifted her head high and spotted him. He squeezed his eye shut when he heard her get up suddenly and run upstairs to him, he thought he could bid farewell to silence and peace.

"What are you reading about?!" She asked, sitting down next to him at the table above which her head barely protruded.

She unfolded a large but rather thin book in front of him, with an ornate red cover on which a dragon-like shape flashed before him. He didn't answer her question, pushing the book closer to himself, beginning to look through it quickly.

"Hey, I'm reading this!" She squealed in pain, wanting to take it from him, but he pushed her hand away.

"Be quiet." He growled, flicking through page after page, feeling his heart begin to pound.

Tales of the ancient Rulers of the Seven Kingdoms.

Beautifully illustrated scenes of nuptials, dragons, battles, his ancestors on gilded, coloured illuminations. In the Red Keep he had never seen such a book before. He flipped back to the beginning, wanting to start reading, but felt her hand tighten on his arm, her breathing uneven, as if she were about to cry.

"…I read it…." She mumbled, looking at him with big eyes full of tears, her face expressing as if she had never suffered so much in her life as she did in that moment.

"I'm reading it now. When I'm done I'll give it back to you." He said dryly, looking away.

He thought she was going to run off crying to complain to Royce or her father, and pressed his lips together at the thought, but she drew in a loud breath, trying to hold back the loud sobs that were pushing at her throat.

"− and can I − uh - can I sit next to − and you'd read to me, and I − I − I'd like to −" She spoke incoherently and with difficulty, and he clenched his eye knowing that she wouldn't leave him alone. He sighed heavily, pushed her chair closer to him and moved the book to the side so she could see something.

"Do you see anything?" He asked impatiently, looking at her, and she sat up on her knees to raise herself higher, looking at the open book curiously, her face completely changed its expression back to contented and gentle, although she was still red from tears.

"Yes."

He sighed heavily and began to read.

"Once upon a time there was a mysterious land called Valyria. It was known for its great sorcery and magic, and the most enchanted creatures of all had to be the almighty dragons, great flying reptiles breathing fire that resembled lizards in appearance. They had been invincible for thousands of years, sowing fear and confusion among humans who tried to tame them with prayers and gifts." He read in a calm voice and realised after a moment that she was listening to him as if enchanted, looking along with him at the text he was reading.

She glanced at him when he stopped reading, her gaze expressing joyful anticipation.

She really thought he was going to read the whole book to her now.

He didn't know how he felt about that thought. It frustrated him that he had to exert himself for her just on her whim, on the other hand she was just a child who wanted to listen to a story.

"Read on." She said softly, pleasantly, squirming in her lap in anticipation. "I really want to learn more about dragons."

He swallowed quietly at her words, lowering his head, looking blankly at the text in front of him. Even though her sisters were trying with all their might to make contact and conversation with him, he could see them trying to avoid looking at his eyepatch, afraid they would say the wrong thing or offend him.

He was tired of it.

Both he and they pretended all the time.

But she wanted nothing more than for him to continue reading a story that interested her.

So he read on.

✦ - ✦ - ✦ A few years later ✦ - ✦ - ✦

When his mother sent him a letter that Helaena had finally given birth, he flew to King's Landing for a few days to see his nephews. He was pleased, although he did not particularly show it, that his sister had endured the hardships of labour well, being able to get out of bed practically immediately despite giving birth to two children rather than one.

He stood over the two beautiful, ornate wooden cradles in which the two white-haired infants lay and pressed his lips together, knowing that these innocent creatures had just pushed him in line for the throne.

He had inherited nothing.

All he had was Vhagar.

He knew everyone thought so. As he walked the corridors of the Red Keep he felt the stares of the lords and ladies of the court, he knew they were whispering about him. He appeared in King's Landing infrequently and always aroused a general curiosity that made him want to return to Storm's End at once.

There he didn't feel like an intruder, he thought with pain.

Despite his mother's pleas for him to stay for a few weeks, he decided that he would return to Storm's End as planned, remembering his promise to Lord Baratheon to return to the fortress before his Name Day.

The last supper he spent in the Red Keep was quiet and peaceful, the only people at the table who had the strength to talk were his grandfather and his mother. Although the feast went on as usual, he could not get rid of the feeling that everyone around him was grey and dead, without energy or joy.

He recoiled from it.

Although he had always sought silence and solitude in Storm's End, dinners were full of loud conversations and laughter, usually through the banter between Borros, his son and his youngest child, sometimes joined by Ellyn.

Cassandra usually pressed her lips together, looking at him with shame, perpetually worried that he was unhappy or embarrassed, trying to mother everyone, much to his frustration.

Ellyn was sweet and kind, but everything frightened her, she was close to tears when he and Royce had fierce duels during which she almost begged them not to hurt each other.

Maris was withdrawn and immersed in her thoughts, paying no attention to him after he had growled at her several times not to enter his chamber in his absence.

Neither of them frustrated him as much as Floris did.

As he walked down the corridor she tried to catch him under his arm, turning his journey from point to point into a romantic stroll. She constantly asked his opinion when it came to choosing a gown for the feast, to which he didn't feel like answering, uninterested. Her approach tired him.

However, on the whole, he felt surprised and sad when he caught himself thinking that he was returning to Storm's End with relief. He felt like a stranger, like an intruder in his own home, his heritage, and he felt rage mixed with disappointment.

He returned on Vhagar to Storm's End late at night, flying in the middle of a terrible storm, entering the fortress all soaked.

He rolled his eye when he saw that Floris was waiting for him, dressed only in a slightly transparent night robe, holding some cloth in her hands.

"You're soaking wet, my prince, let me help you." She said, looking at him with big eyes.

"No need. Don't follow me." He said dryly, heading to his chamber and locking himself in to make sure she would definitely not come after him.

He changed into dry clothes and collapsed on his bed, falling asleep practically immediately, he heard the loud thunder outside his window.

He woke up as always before dawn, looking tiredly at the grey, overcast sky. He murmured under his breath seeing that it wasn't raining and rose, putting on his trousers, dressing his boots lazily.

He liked to practice in the morning, in solitude, before everyone else was up. Dueling with Royce was interesting and over the years they had formed a wordless, close bond, however he liked to train alone sometimes, wanting to surprise him later with an unexpected blow.

He stepped out into the courtyard and was immediately struck by the crisp, pleasant, refreshing air. He picked up one of the long swords and turned it around a few times in his hand, wanting to check that it lay well in his hand. He shuddered and almost fell over when he felt someone suddenly jump onto his back.

"Brother!" He heard a happy girlish squeal, someone's arms were embracing his neck from behind, her legs clenched around his waist.

"− fuck! − gods −" He hissed, feeling his heart pounding like a mad, looking back over his shoulder, although he knew perfectly well who he was going to see.

He felt her warm breath on his cheek, her pleasant floral scent filled his nose, her bright eyes shining with genuine joy at the sight of him, her cheeks warm and flushed from the cold. She giggled seeing the look on his face.

"Where is your vigilance?" She asked amused and he snorted.

"Get off." He growled in frustration and pushed her away so that she had to slide back off the ground.

He looked at her frustrated, his lips tightened into a straight line in shame.

"Can you finally stop doing that?" He said coolly, looking down at her, but she only smiled wider, putting her hands at her sides, not making anything of his words.

Only now did he realise that she too was wearing her training attire, tight black trousers, a buff white chemise, and over that an embroidered corset pleasantly hugging her slender waist, her long dark hair tied in a braid.

He swallowed loudly as he looked at her, wondering helplessly why he always lost his confidence in her presence.

She was driving him off balance.

"Forgive me. I couldn't help myself when I saw you." She said meekly, walking up to him with a light step, standing in front of him, her face gentle and happy.

She was glad to see him.

She was glad he was back.

He felt embarrassed at her words and looked away, pressing his lips together. She saw how tense he was and obviously felt remorse, because she lowered her gaze.

"I thought you'd come back last evening." She said softly, looking up at him again, her eyes big, sincere, warm.

She was always direct, always spoke straight from her heart, but there was no pressure or expectation of reciprocation, of an answer. Her sincerity straddled him and he usually didn't know what to make of it, embarrassed and confused by her words.

"Something kept me in King's Landing." He replied briefly and dryly, looking at the hilt of his sword, turning it steadily in his hand, pressing its tip to the ground.

"I hope the princess' delivery was quick and easy and that her children are healthy." She said softly, with genuine interest and concern.

"Mmm." That was the only thing that came out of his mouth. He felt an awkward silence ensue between them, as it always did, but she seemed to make nothing of it.

"Will it bother you if I practise archery next to you?" She finally asked politely, calmly, looking at him expectantly, shifting from foot to foot.

"Do what you want." He said dryly, turning the sword in his hand again and turning his back to her, striking one of the targets with his blade.

She answered him nothing to this, standing in silence for a moment, and then he heard her move as she approached one of the tables, taking from it the bow she always chose, given to her by her father. She positioned herself sideways to him, aiming at the shield from a long distance and hit the target immediately. They practised like this in silence until Royce finally joined them.

She and Royce formed a very strong bond between them, which manifested itself in their constant conversations and closeness. He watched from the side as Royce embraced her, picked her up, leaned against her while standing next to her and felt embarrassed, never having been this close to Helaena himself, and even if he had been, he would not have had the courage to show it to her in this way.

She knew she couldn't afford the same type of closeness to him and didn't even try. She circled around him with an amused, joyful expression though, her eyes shining brightly at the sight of him, making him feel a tightness in his throat. He could not stop the rapid beating of his heart and the heat that spread through his body when her hand lightly touched his arm when she asked him something or wanted to comfort him.

She loved to surprise him, appearing in front of him out of nowhere, almost giving him a heart attack, and walking away laughing out loud at his expression, leaving him overwhelmed with embarrassment. She repeated that his face was always stony and indifferent and that she was only testing how much she could get out of him.

The exchanges between them were usually unpredictable and chaotic, she never said what he expected of her and it made him perpetually tense in her presence. He didn't even know when she stopped being a child, changing just like him, the height difference between them even greater than before.

It seemed to him as if she were a small wildflower that bloomed day by day, her shapes becoming more and more girlish, embarrassingly pleasing to his eye. Unlike her sisters, she didn't try to look older than she was. She allowed herself to mature slowly, without unnecessary haste, without killing her innocence, joy and lightness.

Pretty soon he began to see with horror that looking at her from the side was working on his mind, drawing reactions from his body that he was ashamed of. He never lay with any woman, being like his mother a faithful follower of the Seven, believing that as a man he should be able to control himself and his desires completely.

He tried to avoid her, but at the same time he couldn't stop the squeeze of excitement in his stomach when she came to him in the library or during their joint training sessions. He never knew what she would do, what she would say, so he pretended to be indifferent, trying not to think about how hard his heart was pounding.

Nevertheless, he did not know what drove him to follow her one evening when, returning from the library, he saw that she was running down to underground crypts in nothing but her nightgown and robe tied loosely around her waist, a candle in her hand. He thought he'd go and scare her like she had done to him, to make her feel what it was like.

That he'll teach her a lesson.

He followed her quietly, watching his every step, feeling like a predator trying to stalk its prey. He saw the faint light of her candle right in front of him, saw her silhouette standing in front of one of the crypts, her head bowed in thought.

He didn't know what possessed him to grab her by her neck with his hand, embracing her waist with his arm and pull her to him so violently that her body slammed into his, a sudden, high-pitched squeal escaped her mouth.

"Fucking unpleasant, isn't it?" He hissed into her ear, feeling her whole body tremble, her breathing accelerated and terrified. His hand tightened on her neck, the closeness of her body made his manhood pulse hard in his trousers.

"I wanted to see if you are able to make other than a happy, laughing face." He whispered mischievously into her ear and felt a shiver run through her body, her hand tightening on his arm.

She turned her head towards him, her eyes big, terrified, red, full of something he couldn't describe, her lips parted slightly. They were both breathing unevenly, they had never stood so close to each other before, a silence fell between them that terrified him.

A silence full of tension.

Say something, he thought, say I'm a nasty bastard, hit me, push me away.

He swallowed loudly when he felt her put her hand on his, her skin soft and warm.

"Today it is ten years since my mother passed away." She whispered in a trembling, soft voice, looking down, and he felt his heart stop.

He lifted his gaze to the sarcophagus with the large stone statue standing on top of it and recognised in it the face of a woman holding a book in her hands. He felt an instant of shame, of guilt, of embarrassment wash over him.

He let go of her, pulling away from her, feeling his heart pounding like mad, terrified that he had gotten completely hard from their momentary closeness.

What was he doing?

He swallowed loudly, feeling like running away, sinking into the ground, disappearing, but he was unable to move.

"I come here often to pray to her to watch over us. Over our whole family. Over you too." She said at the end, and he swallowed silently, staring at the stone floor, unable to look at her, overpowered by shame.

"I'm sorry for what I did to you. I'll never do it again." She whispered quietly and turned away, moving towards the stairs, leaving him with the burning candle.

Since then, she has never startled him again.

Lord Borros celebrated his Name Day sumptuously, inviting first his subordinate lords and vassals to a great feast in Storm's End, and then setting out with his entire retinue for several days hunting in the forest.

He and Royce entered the hall together through a side entrance on the side of their table, set perpendicular to the tables where the other minor lords and guests were seated.

"I'm sure old Lord Errol and Lord Seaworth will get into a fight again. The wine is bad for their minds and they get mad. I don't understand why Father always seats them so close together." Royce said amused, sitting down in his seat.

His face involuntarily stretched into a smirk at the memory of how Borros had to separate them when Lord Errol started slamming Lord Seaworth's head against the oak table, demanding an apology.

"Were they, by any chance, companions on one of Father's expeditions?" He asked indifferently as he sat down next to him and swallowed quietly noting how the word father had involuntarily slipped from his lips.

Not "our" father.

Not "your" father.

Just father, he reassured himself in his head.

It didn't mean anything.

"Yes, they were best friends, but you know how it is. When there's no war they get bored, so they create reasons for themselves to fight." He said with amusement, reaching for his wine-filled cup, taking a sip from it. He nodded his head.

He was unable to describe what kind of relationship he had with Royce. Royce never acted as if he was lower or higher than him, never let him feel his jealousy of his father, never took it out on him for his failures. Royce simply accepted his presence on the very first day he appeared in Storm's End, and this state of acceptance continued through the years.

He couldn't imagine spending time with Aegon in the way he did with Royce. Royce, unlike him, knew exactly how much he could drink and when he should tell himself enough. He did not read as much as he did, however, he was a man of intelligence, like his father often throwing in apt remarks. Royce was a good observer, better than him, so in a way they complemented each other on a daily basis.

He looked around the room, Lord Borros was discussing something with concern with his servant, apparently about the order in which the dishes were served or a problem with the wine, which, after all, could not be lacking in his house.

His gaze traveled further and he swallowed loudly, feeling his heart hit harder when he spotted his youngest daugther talking to Ellyn, a wide smile and joy on her face, she was laughing at something, her eyes glowing.

He noticed that she didn't wear gowns like her older sisters who followed fashion of King's Landing. The neckline of her gown did not begin until below her breasts, which were covered only by her undershirt, the sleeves of her gown buff and partly slit, tied with bows from under which the white material of her chemise shone through, her hair tied in an elaborate braid.

Her attire was so impressive to him because she usually dressed similarly to them whether she was training with them or attended her father's hunts. Lord Baratheon's other lords and vassals gave her paternal affection, often laughing that Borros had not one son, but three.

Comparisons to men, however, did not take away her confidence, for she seemed to subconsciously understand that all her femininity and girlhood was released when she laughed and smiled, her face always gentle and warm, surrounded usually by a long, complicated braid.

With frustration, he began to notice that men liked to make small talk with her, finding her an interesting and entertaining companion, unafraid of uncomfortable topics. She would occasionally meet his impatient, tense gaze and he would then turn away, tightening his lips, feeling like a fool.

He pretended not to feel relieved and satisfied when, usually after a while, she sat down next to him, turning to him with some question, her knee pressed against his.

He took a deep sip from his cup, looking away.

Lord Borros finally arose and began his speech, thanking those gathered for coming, mentioning some important battles and people, before formally inviting everyone to eat and dance. With music blaring around them, Royce handed him a plate of roast meat that had literally just appeared on the table in front of them.

He tried to pretend he didn't see young Lord Wylde approach Lord Baratheon's youngest daughter asking her to dance, to which she agreed with a soft, wide smile. He tried not to glance surreptitiously as they circled around each other in the dance, her movements nimble, gentle, innocent, her hand barely touching his.

He took another sip of wine, feeling the artery in his throat pulsate, his heart pounding hard in his chest.

He felt relieved when the dance was over and they bowed to each other. He tensed, however, clenching his hand into a fist as he noticed the young boy leaning over her, whispering something to her ear, and she smiled warmly at him, answering him something quickly.

He felt anger.

He felt frustration.

He felt tension.

He tried to reassure himself with the thought that she was innocent and naïve, and he was making sure nothing happened to her, like the good big brother he actually wasn't.

"What happened?" Royce asked, clearly seeing the tension painted on his face, and he grunted low.

"Young Lord Wylde seems to have taken a liking to your sister." He said offhandedly, feigning indifference, hoping Royce would take an interest in the matter for him. He, however, blinked, glancing at them, then shrugged his shoulders.

"My sister is wise, she can handle him if he's too insistent. Let her have her fun." He said lightly, taking a sip of wine, finishing off the leftover meat on his plate, and he averted his gaze, feeling a tightening in his stomach at his words.

When he saw out of the corner of his eye Floris standing up from her chair he also immediately stood up, knowing that she was going to torment him by talking about topics that he was completely uninterested in. Royce only laughed out loud when he told him he was going to go out into the fresh air for a while, knowing exactly who he was running from.

He went out a side entrance and heard Floris come up behind him, so he changed his plan and instead of the cloisters he headed for the library, knowing that she hadn't peeked in there and certainly wouldn't even stop to look.

He entered the dark room and climbed the stairs to the half-floor where he always sat when he was a child, sitting down on the ground against the wall, running his hand over his face.

He wondered what was actually happening to him, feeling tired and discouraged. He knew that eventually he would have to choose one of Borros' daughters to be his wife, but the Lord of Storm's End had let him know that he was to choose from four, not five.

"As I understand it, you will not consider her. She is still so young and childish, she would not do well in the Red Keep or as your wife. You know her nature, it's like locking a wild bird in a cage. For the rest, I am sure you are certainly interested in more mature women." He said and patted him on the shoulder, paternally, with some expression of masculine tenderness from which he felt a tightening in his throat, and nodded only, without looking him in the face.

He couldn't admit to him that thoughts of her invaded him at night, when he touched himself, when he fucked himself with his hand.

That he imagined she came to his chamber in the middle of the night, scared, innocent, warm, and he took her, slowly and tenderly, placing wet kisses full of desire and devotion on her soft face, listening to her sweet moans.

He squeezed his eye shut at the thought, swallowing loudly, feeling his member pulsate hard at the thought.

He jumped up terrified when he heard the quiet creak of the door and cursed in his mind thinking that it was Floris who had finally found his hiding place.

However, he saw in the faint light of the torch from the corridor that the figure who was looking up at him from below was wearing a completely different dress with large buff sleeves. He felt his heart begin to beat like mad, a cold sweat on the back of his neck.

"Brother? Everything all right?" He heard her quiet, worried voice, she spoke almost in a whisper, as if she was afraid someone would hear her. His voice caught in his throat.

He couldn't get anything out.

Go away, he thought pleadingly, but she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

She walked slowly upstairs, lifting her gown with her hands to avoid trampling on it, and knelt down next to him on the floor with a loud rustle, her scent immediately hitting his nostrils. He turned his head, terrified, feeling that he was already completely hard, his chest rising and falling anxiously.

"Are you unwell?" She asked uncertainly, glancing at him, but he didn't dare look at her. He shook his head slowly and heard her swallow quietly.

"Do you want me to leave you alone?" She asked again after a moment, and he pressed his lips together, feeling that his whole body was fighting not to throw himself at her, his breathing quickened and anxious, his face stony. He didn't look at her.

He answered nothing.

"I missed you." She whispered at last, and he felt a squeeze in his heart, a pain as if someone had stuck a needle in his chest. "When you're gone something is missing. Royce too…"

"Stop it." He growled colder than he would have liked, frustrated and terrified.

"Why are you telling me this?" He asked impatiently, looking at her suddenly, breathing hard, his hand clenched into a fist as if he was about to hit her. He saw her frightened, warm gaze, saw that she couldn't understand him, what frustrated him and what pleased him. She swallowed loudly, surprised by his sudden outburst.

"You think I want to listen to this? I'm not your brother. Have you forgotten who I am already? Do you feel better when you forget that you should bow before me?" He exhaled in one breath, feeling the poison gathering in his heart fly out of him like a bloodthirsty wave, drowning everything around them, including her and him.

He felt a pang of remorse as he saw her face contort in pain, as if he had slapped her across the face, she blinked rapidly tightening her lips, pulling away from him slightly, raising her arms as if in a gesture of defence, her body breathless all over. She swallowed quietly, her mouth quivering as she spoke her next words.

"To me, you will always be my brother." She said in a trembling voice, and he felt anger and hopelessness at her words.

He did not want to be her brother.

Not when she wasn't a Targaryen.

Not when he wanted to fuck her.

She squealed loudly as his hand brutally clamped down on her hair and pulled her close with a sudden movement so that she literally slammed into his body, falling over, catching his arms to keep her balance, her terrified face millimetres from his. They both breathed loudly as they stared at each other for a long moment, he felt his head spin from the smell of her.

He felt a shudder pass through him as her hand touched his scarred cheek uncertainly, his member pulsed painfully hard, leaving him breathless. Shivers ran down the back of his neck as her fingers slid slowly down his skin to his lips, pulsating and swollen. He pulled her face closer, their foreheads touching.

He glanced at her lips, soft, pink, full, and then again at her eyes, warm, misty, surrounded by beautiful dark lashes like a veil. His hand inch by inch drew her closer and closer, he could feel her accelerated breath wrapping around his face. The tip of his nose ran over her soft cheek and they both trembled, a quiet, sweet sigh escaped her lips, her fingers ran down his cheek.

When his lips brushed hers they both froze, looking at each other with misty eyes, breathing loudly. He waited for her reaction, for her to pull away, to shake her head and tell him no. But she didn't move an inch, her whole body quivered, her mouth parted as if invitingly, encouragingly. He leaned towards her, his thirsty lips pressed against hers, soft, fleshy, wonderfully moist.

She whispered his name quietly, and he kissed her again, each time more surely, more deeply, drawing her closer, her hand tightening on his cheek. Their hot, swollen lips danced with each other with a sticky, wet click that sent shivers through him, his free arm hugging her waist and pulling her closer, forcing her to sit on his lap.

They both panted into each other's mouths feeling their hands travel uncertainly over their bodies, the pads of his fingertips touching her hair, her nape, her neck, her cheeks, her waist, repeating it all over again.

His manhood pulsed in his trousers so hard that once in a while a low, helpless groan of pleasure ripped from his throat straight into her mouth, her lips responding timidly to his caresses, her hand trailing through his hair and down his neck.

Aroused to the limit, with a pounding heart, he tentatively slipped the tip of his tongue into her parted lips as if to see how she would react, whether it would be too much. He felt her tremble all over and draw in a loud breath, her fingers clenching tighter on his hair.

He repeated the movement of his tongue and got the same wonderful reaction out of her. He moaned loudly when he felt tips of their tongues come into contact and lick, a strong shudder ran through his body, his hands tightening on the material of her gown.

They both flinched and pulled away immediately, looking at each other in horror when they heard someone grab the doorknob and then the door swung open with a loud creak. They both stood up, swallowing loudly, noticing Royce who was frowning through the lack of light and only saw them on the balcony a moment later.

"I've been looking everywhere for you, what are you doing here?" He asked surprised and amused, seeing their faces.

"I felt unwell. The wine made me sick." He choked out wearily, avoiding her, feeling like his heart was about to leap out of his chest, running down the stairs.

"I'm better now, let's go." He said, stepping out into the corridor, trying to stop his body shaking and the sights he saw before his eyes. He was glad his robe was long enough to cover what was going on in his trousers.

Her soft lips pressed against his, her hand in his hair, her flowery, fresh scent, her warm breath, the trembling of her body, her tongue licking his.

He swallowed loudly, stepping back into the great hall, immediately bombarded with questions from Floris as to where he had gone for so long. He didn't answer her, sidestepping her, sitting down in his seat, taking a few deep sips of wine to calm himself.

What had he done?

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

What if she tells Royce? Or Father?

He ran his hand over his chin at that thought, feeling a tightening in his stomach, glancing nervously at the entrance.

He thought Borros would kill him if he found out.

A moment later, she and Royce also entered the room, her face pale, though she tried to smile, Royce telling her something amused.

She didn't tell him, he thought with relief.

Their gazes met and he immediately looked away, feeling her soft, wet tongue between his lips again, his member pulsed painfully in his trousers, demanding to be relieved at last.

Never before had he come so quickly fucking himself with his own hand as he had that evening. The loud, low moan of relief and delight that broke from his throat was silenced by the pillow into which he pressed his face, his body trembling in spasms. He involuntarily whispered her name as he slowly came down from his peak, his eye tightened, a quiet panting came from his mouth.

He was disgusted with himself and what he had done.

He was disgusted at how pleasant it felt.

She was so innocent.

In the morning he felt crushed by remorse, by the fact that he had frightened her, that she herself did not know what had happened between them. That she thought for certain he wanted to take advantage of her, to profit from the pleasure of her body and nothing more. He knew she would go hunting with them, she always went, helping Borros instead of his servants.

He did not know how he would look her in the face.

He decided he would try to go to Lord Borros and convince him somehow to let him stay in the fortress.

"This is time for you and your children." He said to him, Lord Borros' servant was just helping him put on a robe of thicker, warmer material designed for being outside in cold temperatures. Borros snorted at his words.

"My four daughters are staying and that I can understand, but you? Both my sons are to participate in the hunt." He said more commanding than stating. He looked at him, pretending to feel nothing at his words.

"I am not your son."

Borros pressed his lips together at his words. He waved his hand impatiently and ordered the servant to leave them alone. After a moment, the door closed behind him and a tense silence fell between them. He felt his heart pounding fast. Borros looked at him, wrinkling his wide, dark brows.

"You are not my son by blood, but I raised you. I made you a man. You and Royce are to come with me. Do you understand?" He asked low and clear, with the impatience characteristic of him when he was frustrated. He swallowed loudly and nodded his head.

You are not my son by blood, but I raised you.

I made you a man.

He did not want to admit to himself how much relief he felt at his words.

He no longer knew who he was and who he was not.

A dragon prince would never be an ordinary stag.

However, why was it that whenever Borros spoke in his presence he felt a respect and awe for him that made him unable to stand up to him? That he didn't remind him of who he was, how he should address him?

Part of him wanted to be Royce's brother, wanted to be Borros Baratheon's son.

But he also wanted something else.

Someone else.

He wondered, riding his mount beside Royce through the dense forest whether she would agree if he asked for her hand. Would she give up everything she loved for him and leave with him to the Red Keep, to the inheritance that was his by blood and law. He swallowed quietly, ashamed of the direction his thoughts were taking.

He was desperate.

When they arrived at the spot in the field where the large tents slowly floated he spotted her from afar talking quickly to his father about something and he lowered his head, terrified, dismounting from his horse, thinking only of what he had done the night before.

However, as Borros approached them in her company he began to talk about where they would be going and what they were hunting, his voice focused and pleased with the weather and the fact that it was not raining. He swallowed loudly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. She looked away from him as soon as she noticed he was looking at her.

She didn't tell him, he thought with relief and regret at the same time.

Perhaps if he found out the truth and required an explanation, he would have the courage to take her for himself and demand her hand.

He was not surprised when Borros ordered that all three of them and a few companions from his old days would accompany him on a deer hunt. His youngest daughter was, as usual, armed with a bow, much to her father's delight hitting a partridge from long distances. Borros patted her firmly on the back so that she bent under the powerful strokes of his broad palm.

"Very good." He said lightly, walking on, ordering them to move north. He saw her give him a quick glance and then immediately turn her head away, tightening her lips, all red, and run after her father.

The hunt was a success and they returned to camp with enough meat to feed all comers. Large bonfires were lit in front of the tents, the cooks skinning and quartering the animals before his eyes. Royce and he sat down under one of the trees, exhausted.

Royce called out to his sister when he spotted her from afar to rest with them, and he felt a twist in his stomach, looking away, feigning indifference.

His younger sister approached them uncertainly, trying to converse lightly with her brother about something, her hands clenched in her lap. After a moment, Borros called out to his son from a distance, saying that he needed to help him move some things, and he got up at once and ran towards him, leaving them alone. They both turned their heads, unable to look at each other, a protracted, awkward silence all around them.

He looked at the sun setting in the distance which he could see between the trees, feeling his heart pounding. It seemed to him that what had happened between them earlier in the night was just a figment of his imagination.

"I will not disturb you, my prince." She said softly, quietly, pained, lifting herself from the grass, and he looked at her surprised, his jaw clenched in a held breath at her words as he watched her walk away.

My prince.

When Royce returned he told him he needed to drink some wine. He drank more than usual, watching her from afar like a predator, seeing her cast him an uncertain, frightened glance once in a while. He was frustrated and full of anger that he didn't know what to do with.

He decided to go to bed early, drunk, tired and discouraged. Royce urged him to stay up, that the campfires would burn late into the night, but he had neither the strength nor the desire to feast.

He moved towards his tent and went inside, slowly undoing the buckles of his jacket, pulling it off and throwing it indifferently on the grass beside his bed. He heard someone come inside and thought it was his servant, so he loudly dismissed him, but the person who had entered did not move from his place.

"− Brother −" He heard her quiet, uncertain voice and froze, his body went through a shiver. He turned slowly to her over his shoulder, his gaze expressing shock. He couldn't believe she had come, his heart was pounding like mad. His mind was foggy, he felt uncertain and helpless, his hands involuntarily clenched into fists.

"What are you doing here?" He asked coolly, low, coldly, and she swallowed loudly, her large, warm eyes full of terror and uncertainty, she was pale.

She opened and closed her mouth several times but nothing came out of her throat, she rubbed her fingers together in a nervous gesture.

"− I − what happened yesterday −" She mumbled out, but he interrupted her in mid-sentence afraid of what she wanted to say.

"− forget about it −" He replied, turning away from her, untying the binding of his trousers, wanting to get rid of them before lying down on his bed. "− something else? −"

She turned her head away, embarrassed and hurt by his words and what he was doing, swallowing loudly, her brow furrowed as if in pain.

"− I want you to know that I won't tell anyone about this − that's all −" She whispered turning away and walked out, leaving him with a pounding heart and a feeling of overwhelming shame.

He ran his hand over his face and, in a gesture of anger, threw all his dishes off the table, which fell to the ground with a loud clang of metal.

Why did it have to be her?

He put his palms on the table, leaning his head forward, unable to calm himself, breathing loudly through his mouth.

Why couldn't it be Ellyn?

She was sweet, pretty, modest, well-read, quiet.

So why?

He came out of his tent like a living fury and stormed aggressively into her tent, heard her squeal of surprise as she jumped up on her bed, covering herself with fur, sitting up in only her nightgown.

She looked up at him with her mouth gaping open and her eyes wide as he ripped the furs from her hands, revealing her body peeking out from under the thin white material in front of him, her breath caught in her throat as he lay down on top of her, pressing her body against the bedding, his member pulsing hard between her thighs.

"− brother − what are you −" She whispered terrified, shivering all over, clasping her hands on his chemise.

"− tell me to stop −" He breathed out grabbing her trembling thighs in his hands, lifting them slightly and spreading them out in front of him, panting along with her, looking at her face full of disbelief. "− tell me to stop or I'll take what I want −"

He said in a raspy voice, his tongue invading between her swollen lips bringing out a helpless, drawn-out, surprised moan, her hands still clenched on the material of his shirt. He ran his hard, throbbing manhood hidden under the material between her thighs and she trembled all over, whimpering into his mouth.

He pulled away from her with a loud, wet click, looking at her like a madman, panting loudly along with her, parting her lower lip with his thumb, his hips rubbing against her in a slow back and forth motion.

"− say it −" He whispered more weakly, looking down at her, her face flushed and red, her lips parted in a ragged breath, a quiet moan came from her mouth each time he pressed her womanhood again.

"− please, make me stop − please −" He growled out helplessly, but her lips only parted more at his words, her thighs spread wider in front of him, her hand running over his cheek.

He squeezed his eye shut, feeling her lower lip brush his, her hips tentatively began to respond to his movements, rubbing against him, driving him wild. He felt like he was about to explode.

"− please −" He panted into her mouth, the tips of their tongues licking each other, a sweet, lingering mewl came from her lips. His trembling hands slid from her thigh to her buttocks, squeezing them uncertainly, he sighed in delight feeling how soft she was.

"− please − please −" He sighed in a trembling voice, but her hands weaved into his hair and drew him closer, her fingers trailing down his neck, slipping under his chemise, running over his back, leaving goosebumps in the areas of her touch. They both began to moan quietly and pant into each other's mouths, their kisses messy and loud, wet, sticky from their saliva.

"− marry me −" He exclaimed helplessly, lifting her chemise higher, revealing to him the bare skin of her thigh and what lay between them. Slowly he slid his hand there, trembling along with her, her body quivering at his words, a loud sigh escaping her lips.

"− say you'll marry me −" He whispered, running his nose over her cheek, sliding down to her ear and then to her neck, placing slow, wet kisses on her skin. They both moaned helplessly as his fingers ran over her womanhood, so intimately hidden, so now exposed, her expression of complete trust in him.

He sighed wearily when he felt her juices on his fingers, wet and sticky, again and again running his hand over her entrance, her skin there hot, pulsing with heat. He felt her fingers tighten on his back, writhing beneath him each time his palm ran over the point hidden between her folds, a helpless sob escaping from her throat, her lips parted wide, droplets of sweat running down her skin.

"− Aemond −" She whimpered pleadingly, as if she were crying out to him for help, as if she were asking him to save her. He trembled all over at the sound of his name spoken so directly, so unashamedly, intimately, he felt as if his member would explode with arousal.

He began to deliberately massage her where his touch was driving her mad, his fingertips spreading her moisture all over her womanhood, his lips clinging to hers again, trying to silence her increasingly loud moans.

"− hush, my little one − someone will hear us − shhh −" He silenced her by sliding his tongue deep between her lips, almost to her throat, her hips began to move faster and faster towards his hand, searching for any source of friction.

"− Aemond − what are we doing −" She mumbled quietly between sticky kisses and the licking of their tongues, his fingers massaging around her pearl in a circular intense motion, running over her hot entrance once in a while. He tentatively slid the tip of his finger into her throbbing insides, and she trembled all over, drawing in air loudly.

"− what husband and wife do − what we're going to do every night −" He breathed out into her mouth and a quiet, sweet, surprised moan escaped her throat, he felt her wetness flowing from her entrance into his palm, he felt her body on edge, her thighs were quivering all under his hand, her hips pushing greedily against his fingers. He slid his finger into her with a wet click of her juices as his thumb continued to tease her pearl.

"− I − gods, it feels so warm − it tickles me so much inside −" She mewled, panting loudly, clearly feeling the tension gathering in her lower abdomen, and he thought with delight that she was about to come on his hand.

"− say you'll marry me −" He said in a raspy voice, watching as her body wriggled in front of him him in pleasure, her mouth wide open, her eyes looking at him in a way from which he felt like just throwing himself on top of her and sliding inside her.

"− I will − I will, please −" She cried out and suddenly froze, leaning back, pressing her cheek against the pillow.

An exasperated, pleading, startled moan erupted from her throat, she clenched her eyes shut as if what was just going through her body was too much. Waves of pleasure shook her body, and he watched the sight in disbelief, seeing female fulfilment for the first time in his life.

His hand involuntarily slid out from between her thighs and slid into his trousers, gripping his painfully hard manhood. He forced her to look up at him by clamping his hand over her cheeks and he pressed himself into her lips, panting along with her, massaging himself intensely and quickly. He felt his fulfilment approaching embarrassingly fast, her scent, the touch of her lips and what he saw was enough to keep him on edge.

"− my sweetest − gods − oh, fuck −" He growled out into her mouth panting hard as he felt his hot cum spill over his hand, a wonderful relief and pleasure filled his whole body and lower abdomen, he could hear her loud breathing, her hand gently stroking his hair and cheek, calming him, soothing him.

He collapsed on top of her at last, panting hard, not believing it had really happened. They lay like that, both of them breathing loudly, not saying a word, all around them the voices of drunken men arguing with each other and discussing loudly. He could feel their bodies trembling, hot with fulfilment. He pressed his face to her cheek, his lips against her ear.

"− Do you want me to leave? −" He asked in an uncertain, trembling voice, terrified of what he had done, what she would think of him now, what their father would think if he found out. He felt her small hands tightening on his chemise, her hand running through his hair.

"Stay with me."

So he stayed.

When he woke up, her warm body was snuggled against his chest, her fingers tightened on the material of his chemise as if she was afraid he would change his mind and leave her in the middle of the night.

He embraced her with his hands, his face snuggled into her hair, his nose filled with her wonderful scent.

He had never felt so fulfilled before.

So peaceful.

So safe.

He only gently disentangled himself from her sleeping embrace before dawn, not wanting anyone to see him leaving her tent and jump to hasty conclusions.

He also needed to speak to their father.

He had never before seen Lord Borros so furious as when he told him he had made his choice. His foster father prowled around the tent like an enraged animal as he sat in his chair, tense, playing with his fingers.

"She's just a child. I thought you had more sense." Borros hissed at him, and he threw him a cold, displeased look.

"She is no longer a child. Would you rather she married a stranger instead of giving her to me? To your son?" He asked, his voice trembling uncertainly at his last words. Borros looked at him furrowing his eyebrows, on his face was painted the struggle that had just been going on in his mind.

"I will not hurt her. She will be safe with me." He said calmly what he really thought. Borros snorted at his words.

"In King's Landing, between one fire-breathing dragon and another fighting for crown and power? I don't want to see my youngest child perish in the flames of Targaryen greed!" He exclaimed in a low breaking voice, and he felt a pain in his chest, swallowing loudly, taken completely by surprise by his words.

I don't want to see my youngest child perish in the flames of Targaryen greed.

"It's her or none, Father." He said coldly, clenching his hands into fists, not looking away even though he wanted to.

He heard Borros growl with rage, furiously turning to his servant to summon his youngest daughter at once.

He felt discomfort at the thought that perhaps she had changed her mind.

That she had only agreed under emotions, and now regretted it.

He was unable to look at her when he heard her enter the tent, Borros immediately turned to her, his voice raised and impatient.

"Prince Aemond asks for your hand, daughter. Did you know about this?" He asked menacingly, referring to all the confusion he had caused with his decision. He felt his heart pounding as he waited for her words, his hands clenched into fists.

"Yes. I...I have already agreed." She whispered so quietly that he barely heard. He swallowed loudly glancing at her finally, she was pale and frightened, looking at her father pleadingly, terrified of his anger.

"You have no idea what you agreed to, child." He said, half furious, half terrified, running his hand over his face, shaking his head, still pacing around the tent, unable to control himself.

"I do not want anyone else." She mumbled with difficulty, looking pleadingly at her father, on the verge of tears. He felt warm in his chest at her words and pressed his lips together.

I do not want anyone else.

Without opposition from his daughter, Borros really had no choice. When they confirmed several times that they knew what they were doing and that it was what they wanted, he gave up, heartbroken, and ordered to summon a scribe, wanting to send a letter to King's Landing.

Neither he nor she had the courage to tell anyone what had happened.

Word of his decision spread like wildfire, however, and he had to deal with a barrage of questions from Royce, shocked and unsure if he was doing the right thing.

"But why her, brother? She is so young. I mean…I was sure you'd choose Ellyn." He said, scratching his chin, just as embarrassed as he was by this conversation. Aemond didn't know what to say to him.

"I...when I looked at her... fuck. I think I knew it from the beginning." He muttered, running his hand over his face in shame, all tense, glancing at Royce, who stared at him in disbelief.

His reaction was nothing compared to the despair and bitterness that gripped his sisters.

Cassandra took it best, with dignity, though her face twisted in pain as their father informed them of his decision at the evening feast. Maris turned pale and pursed her lips, but said nothing. Ellyn let out a loud, breaking sob, got up and left, unable to look at him.

Floris asked if it was a joke.

He looked at his betrothed, pale and on the verge of tears, weighed down by what was happening around her, by what he had condemned her to.

"The king and queen have decided that the nuptials will take place in two months." Their father continued, ignoring his daughter's brazen questions. Floris interrupted him again.

"My prince, is it true? Did our father force you to make this decision?" She asked in disbelief, it was clearly beyond her mind that he could make such a decision of his own free will. He took a sip of wine from his goblet and set it down with a loud clang of metal.

"Quite the opposite. Your father tried to dissuade me from this decision, to no avail." He spoke low, coldly, his eye fixed on the one he desired, the one he chose. She looked at him, her eyes sad and terrified.

He pressed his lips greedily to hers, pinning her against the cool stone wall of the corridor as soon as they were alone, wiping tears from her face as they ran down her cheeks, absorbing her every silent sob.

"Tell me you haven't changed your mind." He gasped into her mouth, brushing them and caressing them with a loud, sticky click. She threw her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with such ferocity that he moaned low into her throat.

It was her answer.

To his relief, his betrothed wished their lives to go on as before. She didn't make him take romantic walks together on the cliff's edge, didn't expect flowers, letters, or other evidence of constant interest and love from him. Everything she wanted she could see in his gaze, which did not leave her for a moment.

Affection.

Thirst.

Desire.

He didn't have the courage to tell her how much he already wanted her all to himself, how much he wanted her to be the mother of his children.

He couldn't find the words to describe the heat and pride that overwhelmed him at the thought that she would be his wife, that he would be able to touch her shamelessly in front of everyone.

That he would be able to pick her up, embrace her, lean over her, touch her warm cheeks and hands the way Royce did.

No one but them knew that they both sneaked out of their chambers late at night and went to the library, shutting themselves up there, slowly discovering the pleasures and secrets of their bodies. He let her small hands slide his eyepatch off his head, let her place warm, tender kisses on his scar, holding her close.

They lay down on blankets and fabrics that they had scrupulously hidden under one of the shelves behind the books, finding lying on the stone floor very uncomfortable.

He did not dare to pull off her nightgown, wanting to show her respect and make her feel safe, but the mere sight of her naked body through the translucent fabric was enough to stimulate his senses completely and drive him mad.

He let himself kiss her soft, firm breasts through the thin material and she let out sweet sighs of delight, her hand stroking his hair as she pressed his face closer to her chest, signalling him not to stop.

He had no experience with women before her, so he wanted to understand exactly what gave her fulfillment, what touch and movement of his fingers made her spasm, what his words whispered in her ear made her suddenly come on his hand with a sweet sobs of pleasure.

He felt embarrassed and aroused when she whispered to him one night if she could touch him there.

Their lips connected and parted in sticky, lustful kisses as her trembling fingers untied the tie of his trousers, timidly slipping her hand underneath them. They both froze and inhaled loudly as her fingers traced againt his length, a low, helpless, guttural moan escaping his lips.

"− fuck −" He gasped into her mouth, surprised at how intense the sensation was, how pleasantly soft and gentle her hand felt.

He saw her timid gaze fixed on his face, her cheeks red with shame at what she was doing, at the feeling of his hard member under her fingers.

"− do you want me to stop? −" She asked softly between their tender, sweet kisses.

He responded by taking her hand gently in his, squeezing her fingers around his manhood, guiding her up and down, his member throbbing painfully hard in her embrace.

"− no −" He whispered in response, panting with her, his hips involuntarily moving to the rhythm of her hand, searching for any source of rubbing.

"− how will it look like − on our wedding night? −" She asked softly, her voice slightly trembling, looking at him with dreamy eyes, what she was doing apparently aroused her as much as him.

His member pulsed harder in her hand at her question, he licked his lips involuntarily, imagining what he would be able to do with her.

He didn't know how to describe it without scaring her.

"− I − ah − I'm going to touch you between your thighs − and then −" He gasped, pressing his lips together, feeling shivers all over his body, his hips moving faster and faster in her hand, which massaged him with a steady, intense motion.

"− fuck − and then I'll put this inside you −" He whispered in a shaky voice into her mouth as he pressed his forehead against hers, gripping his hand tighter over hers as she squeezed him.

He heard her draw in a sharp breath, she stared at him wide-eyed, unsure of what she thought of what she had just heard.

"− will it be painful? −" She asked softly with fear, and he kissed her again, slipping his tongue between her fleshy lips, drawing a soft moan from her. He broke away from her with a wet click, looking at her with his mouth slightly parted, feeling the heat and tension gathering in his lower abdomen.

"− no − I − I'll do anything to make you feel good −" He mumbled helplessly, their lips pressed together again in a lewd, sticky kiss, her breathing ragged and uneven.

"− can you − can you do it now? − just for a try −" She whispered softly and he froze, staring at her in disbelief, his heart pounding like crazy.

"− I − we shouldn't before our nuptials −" He muttered hesitantly, though his whole body was screaming for him to throw himself at her and just slide inside her. She swallowed loudly at his words.

"− I know − I just − I wish I knew what it felt like − so I wouldn't be afraid −" She mumbled helplessly and his heart clenched, a million of his thoughts fighting together at the same time in his head. He propped himself up precariously on one elbow, laying between her thighs, gripping the fabric of his trousers.

"− just for a moment − agreed? −" He said in a trembling voice, his whole body quivering. She nodded quickly, breathing heavily, trustingly allowing him to lift the fabric of her nightgown higher.

They both gasped loudly as he slid his trousers down enough to release his hard, throbbing manhood. He leaned over her soft, warm face, placing a gentle, tender kiss on her lips, directing the tip of his member to her wet, throbbing entrance.

"− spread your thighs wider − yes, just like that −" He praised her, brushing her lips again, terrified of what he was about to do, yet feeling like he was about to explode with lust and desire.

They both moaned in surprise as he pressed his length against her entrance and slid a little inside her, she was so tight and hot that he was out of breath. He saw her lips tighten as he pressed harder against her, her eyebrows arching in discomfort.

"− fuck − breathe deeply − relax − does it hurt a lot? −" He whispered in a trembling voice looking at her, with remnants of his free will refraining from any movements. She shook her head.

"− n-no − I mean − a little − just − you're so big −" She mumbled out, a blush of embarrassment on her cheeks, her gaze warm, her lips puffy and pink with emotion. He licked his lips involuntarily at her words, feeling pride and shame at the same time.

"− you did this to me − always make me so fucking hard −" He exhaled in a trembling voice, his hands sliding down between her thighs, gently parting folds of her entrance with his thumbs, trying to help himself and her. He felt her draw in a loud breath and clench her eyes shut.

He heard her swallow hard and begin to breathe loudly through her mouth, inhaling and exhaling, her body shivering all over under him. He felt her walls stop pressing down on him so panicky, and he pushed deeper into her, sighing loudly, her mouth parting wide at the feeling of so intense filling. Hearing no objection from her, he thrust his hips again, entering her all the way in with a loud groan.

He stared down at her, breathing hard, letting her get used to this strange, intense feeling, and then he pulled out slowly only to thrust into her again. They both gasped loudly as he began to move inside her, slowly, hesitantly, telling himself he would stop soon.

"− you're so warm −" He panted in a trembling voice, delighted at how amazing it felt to be squeezed from all sides by her hot, tight, fleshy wet walls, all sticky with her juices, feeling a woman's insides for the first time in his life.

Her mouth parted wide and she mewled loudly as slowly his hips began to accelerate, thrusting his member into her with a loud, sticky slap, a quivering, low gasp of pleasure emanating from his throat.

"− Aemond −" She mumbled helplessly, her body trembling with each of his thrusts, panting louder and louder with him, her hands clenching on his sides. He threw her legs over his back, wanting to feel her deeper, pushing her insides to the limit with his length. She sobbed loudly at the feeling, throwing her head back.

"− just a little longer −" He panted with difficulty, feeling only pleasure, only wonderful tension and her throbbing walls that brought him closer and closer to fulfillment.

He knew he should stop, but instead he fucked her harder and harder, feeling her walls clenching on him, sticky, wet sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the stone room, they both moaned embarrassingly loudly, he felt he was on the verge of fullfilment.

"− don't stop − please, don't pull it out −" He heard her whimpering underneath him from which his lips parted wide in shock, her body going into spasms each time he slid into her again pressing her upper wall, clearly giving her immense pleasure with these movements.

A helpless groan ripped from his throat at her words, he slid into her with a rapid, intense motion, clamping his hands tightly on the soft, sweaty skin of her hips. He felt a shudder run through him as her hips began to respond to his thrusts, coming up to meet him.

"− I have to, my little one − shhh, it's okay −" He whispered into her mouth sliding his tongue between her lips, licking their swollen, fleshy texture, the taste of her saliva spreading across his palate like the sweetest juice.

"− I − I'm about to −" She mumbled with difficulty, her thighs responding greedily to his every thrust, he panted loudly along with her, feeling her core begin to tighten and pulsate against him, he knew what that meant.

"− go on − come on my cock, sweet girl −" He cooed encouragingly, wanting nothing more than that, to see her fulfil, himself being on the edge, his thrusts messy and sloppy.

His words were enough to make her insides clench around his length tightly, then again and again, letting out of him an almost animalistic groan, her body leaning back as if trying to escape from him, he had to cover her mouth with his hand to silence her loud, high-pitched sobs.

"− you did so well − oh fuck, little one −" He growled out, with the remnants of his strong will sliding out of her, cuming hard on her nightgown, his warm semen spilling over her white transparent material while he was still massaging himself with his hand.

She stared at him with wide eyes, breathing heavily, her whole body trembled from the fulfilment and waves of pleasure that continued to flow through her. He swallowed loudly, looking down at her with misty eye, licking his lips.

"− did it hurt? −" He asked in a shaky, low voice, and she blinked and pursed her lips in embarrassment.

"− only − only at the beginning −" She mumbled softly and he hummed under his breath, proud to see that he had given her pleasure, that she enjoyed what they had done as much as he did, and tied his trousers back up. They both glanced sheepishly at the wet spot on her nightgown.

He leaned over her and brushed her lips gently, tenderly, her mouth swollen and wet with arousal. He ran his thumb over her cheek, looking at her with a pounding heart filled only with his affection for her.

Only with love.

"On our wedding night, not a drop will be wasted."

_____

Note from the author:

Lady Baratheon and Royce call Aemond brother, but this stems from their desire to shorten the distance between them. Calling him 'a prince' already seemed too staid at one point for them, and addressing him by his first name was unthinkable. However, it is only she and Royce who do this, their sisters still addressing him as 'my prince', not wanting to call "brother" their possibly future husband - which is why Aemond is so frustrated when Lady Baratheon calls him this, as if she is willfully rejecting him as a candidate for the role.

Aemond calls Borros "father" but does not see him as a replacement for Viserys. Viserys is his blood father, who has given him a legacy of which he is proud and with which he completely identifies. Borros, however, is a father figure to him, someone whose opinion Aemond counts with, whom he respects and values for what he has done for him over the years. Aemond has an affection for Borros that he was never able to develop towards Criston.

Despite Lady Baratheon and Royce's very close relationship, they did not relegate Aemond to the background or distance themselves from him. According to Lord Borros and his friends, they formed a trio. Royce was always where Aemond was, loving to watch his mischievous reactions to various events, and Lady Baratheon was always where Royce was, so they usually ended up together.

Aemond usually pretended he didn't care about their company, but the truth was that he got impatient when they disappeared from his sight for too long, simply getting bored without them.

Part two of this oneshot: To desire, to love, to care

Other oneshot form the same AU: Daugther, Lover, Sister

_____

I can't express my love for this reality, I could keep writing this oneshot but I would make a book! This is probably my most beloved fanfic baby. Leave it some love if you enjoyed it! I'm so curious what do you think. 💐

_____

Taglist

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

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell fanfic #dark aemond #dark aemond targaryen #dark aemond x reader #dark aemond smut #dark aemond angst #aemond targeryen angst #aemond targaryen angst #aemond angst #hotd angst #aemond x original character #aemond x wife #aemond x wife reader #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen smut #ewan mitchell smut #aemond smut #hotd smut #ewan mitchell fandom #aemond fandom #house of the dragon fandom #hotd fandom

[zapreportsblog]

Hi deary!!

So I'm in the mood for some angst!

Could you write about poly! Lost boys x reader who after an argument with them (why idk) is very quiet, because they told reader that their voice is annoying and complaining how annoying their voice is.

What would they do?

I was thinking a lil sexy time? (about how much they love their voice lol) if you don't do angst then just skip this part hahah

↱ fractured bonds ↰

➘ summary : the lost find themselves at odds with their mate (y/n), seems one wrong choice of words ruined that bond… or did it?

➘ the lost boys x reader , marko x paul x reader x david x dwayne

➘ a/n : had to rewrite this because I mixed up the fandoms so I do apologize for that

The winds of Santa Carla swept through the bustling boardwalk, carrying laughter and the scent of the sea. Among the vibrant crowd, (y/n) moved with a bright energy, her infectious laughter catching the attention of everyone around her. She was a burst of sunshine among the dark undercurrents of the town.

But her laughter and vivacity were not limited to her human life. The Lost Boys – Dwayne, Paul, Marko, and David – had been captivated by (y/n)'s spirit, drawn to her like moths to a flame. They were a group of vampires who roamed the night, seeking thrills and defying death.

One evening, as the moon hung heavy in the sky, (y/n) found herself at odds with her mates, their tension palpable. The topic that had ignited their disagreement was a trivial one – (y/n)'s impending transformation into a vampire. She wasn't ready for it, and the Lost Boys were growing impatient with her hesitation.

In the dimly lit lair they called home, the argument escalated into a heated exchange. Voices clashed, emotions ran high, and (y/n)'s bubbly demeanor was overshadowed by frustration.

"(Y/n), you've been a human for so long. It's time to embrace your true nature," David argued, his eyes dark and stormy.

"No, David," (y/n) retorted, her voice quivering with a mix of determination and fear. "I want to hold onto my humanity a little longer. I'm not ready to change."

Dwayne and Paul exchanged glances, tension radiating between them. Marko leaned against a wall, his arms crossed, as if waiting for the confrontation to escalate.

"Enough!" David's voice boomed, his patience at an end. "You're being stubborn, (y/n). We're not asking for much."

(Y/n)'s eyes blazed with defiance, her frustration reaching its peak. "I won't be forced into this, David. My decision is mine alone."

As the words hung in the air, a charged silence settled over the room. The atmosphere was thick with anger, each heartbeat a drumming reminder of the tension that had erupted.

In the stillness that followed, David's lips twisted into a snarl. "Shut up, (y/n)! Your voice is annoying."

A stunned hush fell upon the group, (y/n)'s eyes wide with shock. It was as if time had frozen, a chasm of hurt and resentment separating them.

And as the chapter came to an end, the words lingered in the air like an echo, a painful reminder of the fractured bond between (y/n) and David. The shadows of their disagreement stretched out, leaving their fate hanging on a precipice of uncertainty.

The days that followed the explosive argument were marked by an eerie silence that hung over the lair like a heavy fog. (Y/n) had become a mere whisper of her former self, her vibrant spirit dampened by the pain of the confrontation. Her laughter had vanished, replaced by a haunting quietness that the Lost Boys found deeply unsettling.

Dwayne, the quietest and perhaps the most empathetic of the group, was the first to truly sense the rift that had formed between them. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, he gathered Paul, Marko, and David together in the dimly lit chamber they called home.

"We need to talk," Dwayne began, his voice heavy with concern. "Something isn't right. Our bond with (y/n) is weakening."

The others exchanged worried glances, their expressions mirroring the concern that had etched itself onto Dwayne's face.

"What do you mean?" David asked, his voice laced with unease.

"It's like every day she draws further away from us, it's hurting me more," Dwayne confessed, his voice tinged with sadness. "I can feel it – the connection that once bound us is fraying."

Paul's brow furrowed, his thoughts racing. "But why? What did we do wrong?"

Dwayne's gaze shifted towards the window, his eyes distant. "I don't know, but we need to find out before it's too late."

And so, guided by their shared concern, the Lost Boys sought out Max, the charismatic owner of a local video store who seemed to hold secrets beyond what met the eye.

Sitting in Max's dimly lit office, the group spilled out their worries, their fears, and the sense of impending loss that had gripped them.

Max leaned back in his chair, studying them with a knowing expression. "The bond of a mate is both strong and fragile, my friends. It's delicate, like a glass sculpture. One wrong move, one misstep, and it can shatter completely."

"But what does that have to do with (y/n)?" Marko asked, his voice laced with desperation.

Max's gaze softened. "A mate bond is a two-way street. If the human mate begins to draw away, to feel pain and heartbreak, it can reverberate through the bond. The vampire mate begins to feel their heart hurting, and if it goes on for too long, it can lead to their own demise."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the gravity of Max's words settling over them like a shroud. The realization hit them like a tidal wave – their bond was teetering on the edge, and (y/n)'s emotional withdrawal was pushing them closer to the brink.

The lair seemed to hold its breath as the Lost Boys gathered in somber unity. Marko's suggestion to confront (y/n) had been met with a unanimous agreement, driven by their shared desire to mend the bonds that had been stretched thin. With a sense of cautious determination, they made their way to the spare bedroom where (y/n) had taken refuge.

The door creaked open, revealing (y/n) sitting on the edge of the bed, her gaze distant. The room was dimly lit, the shadows emphasizing the weight of their situation.

Marko, his voice gentle, was the first to speak. "We need to talk, (y/n). Can we come in?"

She offered a weary nod, her eyes briefly meeting his before she looked away.

Paul stepped forward, his expression a mixture of guilt and regret. "We're sorry, (y/n). We were wrong to push you into something you weren't ready for."

(Y/n) didn't respond, her silence speaking volumes about the pain she had been feeling.

Dwayne, his usually calm demeanor showing signs of vulnerability, stepped up next. "I should have intervened, (y/n). I'm sorry for not stopping it before things got out of hand."

Finally, David entered the room, his movements slow and deliberate. He knelt beside (y/n)'s bed, his gaze locked onto her downcast eyes.

"(Y/n)," he began, his voice uncharacteristically soft, "I want to apologize for my behavior. I was an ass, and I shouldn't have spoken to you that way."

Tears welled up in (y/n)'s eyes as she looked at David, a mixture of emotions swirling within her. His vulnerability touched her in ways she hadn't expected.

"I miss your voice too," she admitted, her voice catching slightly. "And I'm tired of feeling like I don't belong anymore."

David gently lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against her skin. "You do belong, (y/n). You're our mate, and we want you with us."

As the room hung in a delicate balance of vulnerability, (y/n)'s emotions began to unravel. The hurt and pain she had been carrying seemed to seep out with every touch and whispered apology.

David continued, his words sincere. "I love your voice, (y/n). I miss it. I was wrong to tell you to shut up."

The tension that had plagued the room began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of connection and understanding. The Lost Boys' apologies were like stitches threading together the frayed edges of their bond.

The sun painted the horizon with hues of gold and pink as the dawn broke over Santa Carla. Inside the lair of the Lost Boys, (y/n) awoke with a sense of tranquility she hadn't felt in days. The air was tinged with a residual warmth from the night before, a reminder of the passion they had shared.

With a lightness in her step, (y/n) moved about the lair, her cheerful spirit back in full force. Her laughter seemed to echo through the space, and the Lost Boys couldn't help but smile at the sight of her renewed energy.

As the morning progressed, the group gathered, the atmosphere charged with a sense of anticipation. (Y/n)'s cheerful demeanor had returned, and her mates exchanged knowing glances, their hearts lifted by her transformation.

Dwayne, ever the gentle soul, approached (y/n), his eyes softening as he spoke. "You seem different today, (y/n)."

Her smile widened, radiant with a newfound resolve. "I am different, Dwayne. I've made a decision."

The others leaned in, their curiosity piqued. "What decision?" Marko asked, his voice brimming with enthusiasm.

(Y/n)'s gaze locked onto David's, her expression unwavering. "I'm ready. I want to be turned."

The joy that erupted in the room was palpable, a chorus of cheers and smiles that reflected their relief and happiness. Yet, David's eyes held a trace of concern.

He stepped forward, his hand offering a small bottle of blood. "Are you sure about this, (y/n)? You don't have to do it if you're not ready."

Taking the bottle from him, (y/n)'s fingers brushed against his, the connection between them sparking a sense of security. "I'm ready, David. I want this – as long as you all stay by my side."

A collective sigh of relief seemed to fill the room, a testament to the strength of their bond. The Lost Boys gathered around (y/n), their expressions a mixture of pride and affection.

"We're not going anywhere," Paul assured, his voice carrying a promise that echoed in each of their hearts.

David's gaze held an intensity that pierced through (y/n)'s soul. "We're in this together, (y/n). No matter what."

(Y/n) felt a mixture of excitement and apprehension. The road ahead was uncertain, the transformation she was about to undergo a step into the unknown. But she knew that as long as the Lost Boys were by her side, she could face anything that came her way with a fearless heart.

#x reader #x reader oneshot #x reader one shot #x reader requests #requested #request #the lost boys x reader #he lost boys #the lost boys imagine #the lost boys imagines #marko #marko x reader #dwayne #dwayne x reader #marko the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #david the lost boys #david x reader #david #paul the lost boys #paul #paul x reader #the lost boys x you #the lost boys x y/n

[cupids-chamber]

EVERYONE wants to live through a fairy tale romance, and y/n especially wanted too.. In the end.. Did y/n get the fairy take they craved?

READERS GENDER NOT SPECIFIED 2.0k words

WARNINGS/TAGS: Implied yandere and slightly implied violence (Reader remains unharmed), mentions of injuries (Just reader taking care of Deuce's wounds), Fluff to angst to fluff.

The two of you met while you were children, your parents had been close friends, so it was a given that the two of you would see each other frequently. Personally, you didn't mind, as Deuce had been an easy going and rather extroverted person, though careless at times, he considered your feelings even at such a young age.

He made sure to share his toys whenever you were around, carefully cooperating in your childish schemes, so as long as he avoids getting into trouble with his mother.

The two of you played pretend quite often, acting out scenes from your favorite play and or stories with great expertise, joking along with each other about how one day the two of you would find your true love, a trope often found in fairy tales that children indulge themselves in.

A common memory the two of you shared, was when Mrs. Spade would read you a storybook, which oftentimes preached of love and affection. Something that seemed silly, disgusting, maybe even a little embarrassing in the eyes of other children, filled you with anticipation, as you craved a love similar to those storybooks. Deuce often recalls moments where you'd preach of love, how you claimed that you'd have your own fairytale, it was rather amusing to say the least.

As the two of you grew older, you both developed mutual feelings for one another.. rather than the true love you had always craved, you received a blissful first love, with your longtime friend. That however didn't last long, as the perfect picture and romance broke, as reality hit the two of you.

Having had a notch for intimacy and communication, a long distance relationship didn't seem savory, but as Deuce planned to make his way to NRC, you realized there was very little you could do, your mind told you to rethink your decision, as the words left your mouth. There, the night before Deuce had left, you had called things off, ending things once and for all.

You had expected the delinquent to lash out, or have some sort of excessive reaction, as for the longest time in which you have known Deuce, he was perceived as a rather emotional being. Oftentimes as a child he'd break down over the tiniest conflict. However, he had no excessive reaction, his eyes which previously shone, turned dark and gloomy, while his face remained unreadable.. After a few seconds of awkward silence, you began to walk away, finding that it would be in your best interest to give him space.

Deuce let out a shaky breath as your form disappeared from eyesight, before he broke down in tears, his knees had given up on him long ago, yet he managed to put on a perfect front in front of you, 'had he done something wrong? or maybe he offended you in some sort of way!' The thoughts of self degradation filled his mind, as he began mumbling underneath his breath, about how he could change, had you asked him too. In fact, he'd be more than willing to rip his heart out and display it for all to see, had you asked him to do so.

All this time Deuce did his best to replicate the delicate mannerism in which those unrealistic stories of love had shown you, the ones of which you praised in your ramblings of love, the unfiltered emotions of pure excitement enlaced within your words, the memory never quite left his mind.

He had taken a liking to you for a while, ever since you were little children. Despite his timid and shy nature, he had approached and conversed with you with ease. He remembered a story his mother read to him once, about how a poet had fallen hopelessly in love with a nymph, then she had bopped his nose, and flashed him a affectionate smile, stating that one day he too would find his nymph. At that very moment, the small child was rather certain that you were his nymph.

Deuce had developed a habit of lashing out at other children and or grow overly emotional in matters which concerned you, rather than use logic like his teachers and comrades had recommended, the boy used violence, and threats.

Though if he was being honest, you never enjoyed violence or the sight of blood, in fact you hated the stench of blood, oftentimes you'd scold him and advise him to stop. 'But how could he?' For everytime Deuce ended up in a fight, you'd treat his wounds, carefully wrapping the bandages around the wounded area, 'how could he stop, when at that moment he was the center of your world, for at that moment your eyes only looked his way'

The next morning Deuce was met with disappointment, as you hadn't bothered to see him off. Mrs. Spade took notice of her son's puffy eyes, and sore throat, he looked restless and tired, and honestly she was unceremoniously surprised by the fact that you hadn't come to see Deuce off, as she was still under the assumption that you two were a couple.

Deuce left his hometown on a rather resentful note, making his way to Night Raven College, one of the most prominent schools of Twisted Wonderland, he recalled how elated you were when you found out he was accepted into the academy, hugging him tightly, your embrace was comforting and warm, a contrast to his reaction which was shock and relief.

The days at the school was rather tiring, Deuce had changed his ways, reforming himself for the school, and unluckily for him, he was put in Heartslabyul one of the most strictest, if not the most harsh dorm to be in. From there he had made many new friends, with whom he'd team up with to cause chaos and mischief. Yet in the back of his mind there was you, always.. you..

His mind was clouded with images of you every night, where he'd become restless, tossing and turning every time. You had been a disease plaguing his mind, much like a song, he couldn't quite get out of his head. He had no control of himself when he had printed all those pictures he had saved of you, pinning them ever so carefully on the cheap board, until it was fully covered. Like a addicted man, he'd scroll through your old text messages, and low quality audio tapes, getting high off the few memories he had saved of you.

Your voice was lovely, and he craved to hear it one more time, and to his utter luck spring break was approaching, the thought of seeing you again filled him with unfathomable joy, how he hoped that you would take in account his changes of behavior and judgment, he didn't notice when Ace was petting his shoulder, trying to catch his attention.

"Huh?" Deuce voiced his confusion, as Ace flashed him a slightly concerned look "Hey man.. are you ok? You've been out of it lately." Ace's genuine worry threw him off guard, however, Deuce quickly recovered, flashing him a smile "I'm fine, just excited to go home, that's all!"

A week before Deuce had returned, you visited Mrs. Spade, despite cutting it off he had still updated you and sent you mail, in hopes for a response, his desperation for you knew no bounds. Mrs. Spade, a woman who was your second mother at heart, seemed to sense your worries, as she helped you settle down. While she made tea for the two of you to share, you opened up about the two of your breakup, and every now and then Mrs. Spade would chirp in, providing vocabulary, advice, and humorous input to keep your mood afloat. Somewhere along the lines, she had convinced you to try and rekindle your relationship with Deuce. 

So, when Deuce had returned home, you greeted him at the door, the air surrounding the two of you was rather awkward, at least on your part, Deuce was ecstatic to see you again, tho he kept a rather composed expression, returning your greeting, mirroring one of the greetings he had read previously in one of those silly romance books you had read and boosted about. 

You paid no mind to the gesture, finding it unsettling to see Deuce this calm, instead you took notice of how his hair was no longer dyed an irky, eye stinging blonde, and how not a single injury could be found on his visible body. It made you hum in satisfaction, a gesture Deuce was all too familiar with.

It took some convincing to get Deuce to spend time with you, 'why was he being so difficult when he was the one sending love letters to you, every other week.' Though the letters couldn’t quite classify as love letters, It was odd nonetheless, Deuce's actions seemed all too familiar, yet you couldn't recall anything of this sort.

This weird upsetting feeling continued in your many outings together, the air always felt unfamiliar and rather suffocating.. the way he poured tea, all the way to Deuce’s manor of speech.. all seemed like a well scripted act.. One would call it, straight out of a fairy tale. Something you've grown to despise, true love and love at first sight.. etc. Everything seemed illogical and unbecoming, they weren't real.. After all, you've grown past such childish whims, and dreams. 

You were so concerned with your own thoughts that you had failed to notice the glare that Deuce would send to any man near you, how his breath hitched when he caught the scent of your perfume/cologne, a obscene blush creeping onto his face, the way his eyes glowed obsessively around you, how the small handkerchief, and other useless trinkets of yours would go missing, you failed to see the obscene and unsettling expressions that he showed openly, the way he stare so intently at you, analyzing your every move, while he figured out what action he should return to appease you. Maybe a part of you had recognized the red flags that seemed all too apparent for the other town folks around you, you just chose to ignore it. 

When you had finally confessed to him, once again like before.. What you had hoped to see was a flustered man, inexperienced in the terms of love, yet instead you saw Deuce with an unsettling smile, his cheeks tainted red, as he gently embraced you and kissed your forehead. You overlooked the action, passing it off as maturity, you couldn't expect Deuce to be the same person he was, when you had first confessed to him.

However, over time the walls of a once blissfully unaware paradise came crashing, as the signs seemed all too transparent.

Deuce's actions, words, and everything seemed all too familiar to be simple coincidence, you skimmed through your memories searching for an answer.. an answer you couldn't find, no matter how hard you looked. It wasn't until one day, where you stumbled across the old storybooks that Mrs. Spade had read to you in the past, did you remember. It was as if certain puzzle pieces fell into place.

You compared all of Deuce's behavior, and aligned it with the descriptions, written ever so neatly on the fine parchment paper, of each hardcovered book. If you had known about this sooner, you would have found it sweet and rather lovable, however your mind was no longer that of a child, who believed in fairytales and or the aspect of true love, the gesture proved to be more alarming than tooth rotting sweetness.

Deuce had gone to so many lengths to keep you around, but it made you question, 'had you ever known or met the real Deuce Spade?', it seemed up to this point your relationship had been built on lies, it was only then it clicked, and memories from your childhood filled your mind, how Deuce would treat you differently from others, how he'd get particularly violent with other men around you, all of which didn't seem too abnormal, appeared to be much more sinister than before.

Maybe the violent and intolerable, Deuce... was the real Deuce Spade, and maybe you have been led to believe a rather cruel but sugar coated lie.

It was only then did Deuce's words reach your ears, as you, for the very first time met his dim eyes, void of affection.

© cupids-chamber, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

#twst #twst x reader #yandere twst #twst fluff #twst imagines #twst angst #twst headcanons #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland fluff #twisted wonderland angst #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #deuce spade x reader #deuce spade #deuce x reader #deuce #twst deuce #twst deuce x reader #twst deuce spade #twst deuce spade x reader #twisted wonderland deuce #twisted wonderland deuce x reader #twisted wonderland deuce spade #twisted wonderland deuce spade x reader

[gaysindistress]

Fine Line

summary: Forgetting his first love is easier said than done as memories of his best girl are the only things that Steve thinks about during the days leading up to his wedding. Not once did he think of Peggy even as she walked down the aisle or when they were pronounced husband and wife or when she refused to let him go throughout the celebrations. He hoped that with time she would leave his every waking thought but time would prove to be a cruel mistress and would not grant him such luxuries. A decade and one failed marriage later, she still hasn’t left his mind.

pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader

warnings: angst, the feels

word count: 3.3k 

Tag list: @vickie5446 @cakesandtom​

Dial Drunk - part 2 & Cocaine Jesus - part 3

a/n: SURPRISE! I’m not fully back but I missed you guys so I’m giving you Fine Line early. Everything else will resume on 7/7 like planned. Also I’m torn between making this a series or keeping it as a one shot. What are y’all thinking? 

masterlist

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

Falling in love was supposed to be the greatest accomplishment for a person. The rush of emotion, the butterflies in one’s stomach, the flush when one’s lover is near, the feeling of complete joy and fulfillment. Falling in love was supposed to be the happiest moment in one’s life. It’s meant to last forever, the eternity that a couple walks on this earth. It’s meant to persevere through any and all hardships that life throws in their way and strengthen the bond they share. Love, true love in its purest form, is meant to be the greatest healing force that nature has to offer and will provide a couple with an endless supply of cures for any ailment. Love is the one thing that people seek out the most in any and all forms but the love that is found in the arms of a lover is the most sought-after. Love is meant to be a good thing until it is not. 

When love sours and turns into resentment, hatred, pain, and angst, it destroys. It becomes the ruination of once strong and powerful people. It becomes a weakness that anyone can expose, one that anyone can exploit when needed. When love fades away into nothingness, the hole that is left is permanent. It will never be filled, will never shrink, will never heal. The hole that loves leaves is a stark reminder of what was meant to be and what actually happened. It’s filled with what-ifs and theories of what could’ve been, questions left unanswered and will continue to go unanswered. When love is lost, the two lovers change and something new becomes of them. In the case of Steve Rogers, an entirely new man was forged from the fires of lost love. 

At barely 22, he was faced with a decision he’d hoped would never come. Being the son of a crime boss and the natural next pick to lead, it was his duty to pick a suitable partner to support him when his time came. Of course, some standards and stipulations accompanied his decision but he quickly learned that there was a predetermined pick already in place. He had no choice, no free will to decide his own future, and with that, he would have to leave behind the love he had known since they were children. 

“You can’t be serious, Dad,” Steve’s hands shook with anger as he held back the urge to smash something, anything at all. 

“The Carters are very good friends of ours and Peggy is a sweet girl. She’ll make for a lovely wife,” Joseph Rogers, the current leader of the Rogers crime syndicate, explains while not batting an eye at his son’s aggression and continues to eat the roast his wife made. 

“You can’t just force me into this. Mom,” he turns to Sarah who is sitting quietly at the kitchen table, “please there has to be something else, anything else.”

She only shakes her head, eyes downcast on the dark wood of the table where they’d been eating dinner as a family moments ago. Joseph spares her a very brief glance to ensure that she isn’t going to give in to her son’s pleas for help. 

“What’s done is done. You will marry Peggy Carter at the end of the week and that is the end of this conversation. I do not want to hear another word about it, am I clear?” The authority in his tone forces both his wife and son into a quick nod and ‘yes sir’ as the only other sounds that fill the room are those of him cutting the meat on his plate. 

Another stern look from his father has Steve returning to his seat but not without one last question, “What about…”

Joseph slams his hand on the table, rattling nearly everything and everyone as he cuts Steve off, “I said not another word and as for that girl, you will break it off and forget about her.”

Easier said than done as the thought of his best girl and leaving her are the only things that he thinks about during the days leading up to his wedding. Not once did he think of Peggy even as she walked down the aisle of the grand catholic church in her expensive white gown or when he briefly pressed his lips against hers as they were pronounced husband and wife or when she refused to let him go throughout the celebrations. Not once did Steve stop thinking of his true beloved his entire wedding day or night when he begrudgingly commenced their marriage. He hoped that with time she would leave his every waking thought but time would prove to be a cruel mistress and would not grant him such luxuries. 

She inhabited every corner of his mind for the next 15 years and nothing could shake the memory of her tear-stricken face when he told her that they were done. To spare her the real pain of the truth, he lied and said that he had been seeing Peggy the entire time they were together. Whether or not a cheating revelation was really better than an arranged marriage was lost on him and he regretted every word the moment they slipped out. Of course, she hadn’t believed him, he would never do something so horrible as cheating on her. She knew him better than that, she knew him better than he knew himself so lying to her would never be successful. Yet she accepted it and didn’t pry any further, knowing that if he was lying, there was clearly something far worse happening. 

He watched all love drain from her face and tears wet her skin when the lies filled her head. Everything they had built together over the last year had been ruined with two sentences; It’s over. I’ve been cheating on you with Peggy and we’re getting married. 

15 years later and only God knows he would be able to make up for those lost years and cruel parting words. Rain storms around him and soaked his thick black outer coat as he stands in front of the blue door. The thunder drowns out the sound of his blood pulsing in his ears as nerves start to take over him. Should he really be here? Would she open the door for him? Hell did she even live here anymore? All sorts of questions scatter any rational thought he has. However lucky for him, the door opens and reveals her standing there and everything completely leaves his brain at the sight. 

“What are you doing here?” her voice is calloused and devoid of all emotion as she stares up at him. 

“H… Hi,” he stutters, his chest constricting as it works to breathe. In and out, in and out. 

“What are you doing here?” she repeats. 

“Can I come in?”

“It depends. Is someone dead or are you just here to reminisce?”

His hand strays from his pocket to scratch the back of his neck, an old nervous habit his father had tried to break for years. 

“Either way, I don’t want you here so leave,” she says, going to close the door on him and everything that might blossom from this moment but the stray hand blocks that from happening. 

“Please, I just want to talk.”

“No. Just go,” she tries again to push on the wood alas she is no match for the strength he has built up over the years and she lets out a defeated sigh. 

“5 minutes. That’s all I ask.”

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

The smile she had only dreamt of for years finally becomes real again as it stretches across his short stubble covered face, “Not a chance in hell, honey.”

The woman steps back but only enough for him to squeeze past and invade her no longer safe space. She knew when the sleek silver car pulled up that any sense of safety would go. His showing up at her front door made her a target for any and all of his enemies after she’d spent years trying to erase any memory or sign of him from her life. 

He glances around the room, taking in every detail it had to offer from the various books that lined the brick walls to the pictures of family and friends on the countertops. One, in particular, halts him. It’s a small polaroid from the first night they’d since each other since childhood tucked into the corner of a mirror that’s amidst the books. In it are two much younger versions of them smiling drunkenly with fireworks in the background. 

It had been the fourth of July the year he moved back from college. Sarah, his mother, insisted that they throw a late welcome home of July party since this was the first time in four years he had been back. The college had been an escape from the greed and foulness of his father’s world but his tranquility had to be shattered when he was presented with the prophecy of him taking the Rogers family business. Sure he knew it was going to happen but being faced with the reality of it proved to be too much for him. He’d spent the afternoon sneaking away to take shots in between his beers because he needed to be drunk to not remember a thing to survive this night. 

It was probably around the 5th secret shot when his sweet honey had shown up, stumbling upon him looking for the bathroom. There she stood in her cutoff Levi shorts and white tank top that showed off the red bikini top she’d worn to the lake earlier. He should’ve heard her coming down the hallway given that she was wearing flip-flops but the deafening effect of the alcohol must’ve kicked in. 

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” she stutters, frozen with embarrassment, “I’m sorry but where is the bathroom?”

Coughing from nearly choking on his shot, he wipes at his mouth both physically and metaphorically, “Um it’s across the hall.”

“Thank you, Steve,” she whispers while closing the door. 

“Wait how do you know my name?” his voice halts her and she cringes when she hears it. 

“Oh uh… I guess you don’t recognize me,” she says, pushing her hair back, “I’m Y/N L/N.”

“Oh, OH,” it suddenly all clicks into place and he feels immensely guilty for all of the thoughts that had run through his head, “I should’ve known. It’s been uh… a crazy week.” “It’s all good. I’m sure your parents have paraded you around like a circus animal. Ya know, the prodigal son returns and all,” the sound of far-off laughter has her checking over her shoulder, “Anyways I should go. It was nice seeing you.”

“Yeah it was nice seeing you too,” he trails off, too caught up gawking at how short her cutoffs were and how if anyone dared to look her way, he’d been cut their eyes out. 

He’d made it his mission that night to watch over her and make sure that no one got close to her. Of course, this was unbeknownst to her and any attractive guy that showed up quickly disappeared, refusing to even go near her. About 4 guys in, she’d spotted the reason for her bad luck leaning against the sliding glass door with his arms crossed over his chest. Even though she couldn’t see his eyes from behind his sunglasses, she could tell by the way his jaw was set that his death glare had scared off any and all men that approached her. 

“Is there a reason why you’re ruining my chances at finding a guy?” she asked him as she came to stand at his side. 

He briefly glanced at her from the corner of his eye before readjusting his arms tighter over his chest, straining his white button-down.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he finally settled on but she doesn’t buy it for a second. 

“You know exactly what you’re doing and I want to know why.”

“And what do you think I’m doing?” “Being a bitch and not asking me out yourself so you’re resorting to giving everyone the stare-down.”

He scoffed at the suggestion but deep down he knew that she was right.

“The fact that you didn’t even try and defend yourself proves I’m right so are you going to man up or pout?”

“I’m not pouting,” he tried to defend himself but it was too late and she gives him an annoyed look, “Want to go inside?”

She pushed off the door, took his hand in hers, and dragged him inside, “I thought you’d never ask.”

She clears her throat, drawing his attention back to the present and he hesitantly looks at her through the mirror. She doesn’t look exactly pleased that he had seen the last photo she’d held onto but she doesn’t let her bothered attitude show and gestures for him to sit at the kitchen island. 

“Why are you here?” she asks him while getting things to make iced coffee. “I wanted to see how you were,” he lies, taking a seat in the tall wicker chair she’d thrifted a few months before. 

“You had 15 years to do that. Why are you really here?”

“We got divorced.”

She freezes for a moment but continues to make herself a cup and offers him one. He shakes his head, awaiting her response. 

“Oh?” is all that comes out of her as the rain drones on outside. 

“It had been a long time coming.”

“I’m sorry,” her body language tells another story that is the opposite of her words. The indifference is clear as she passes him a cup made to his exact preference anyways. Feeling his bright blue eyes burning holes into her skull, her own eyes flicker up and meet his, “You can’t expect me to care. You cheated on me with her and dumped me the same week you married her.”

“No, you’re right. I shouldn’t expect you to feel bad for me,” he says, taking the cup from her hands. 

“But here you are; showing up at my house and begging me to open the door to what? Talk? Talk about what? You didn’t come here just to tell me that so what is it?” she pries, leaning against the sink behind her to keep as much distance as she can between them. 

He takes a sip and savors the thought that she absentmindedly put into it before answering her question, “I wanted to set things straight.”

She merely raises an eyebrow but allows him to keep talking. 

“My dad arranged my marriage to Peggy and forced me to break it off with you. It was… I never…. I never cheated on you.”

Eyeing him from her place, she takes a long drink from her cup to think over his revelation. Half of her laughs at him and how stupid he must be if he thinks she is really going to believe that. The other part tenses at the idea that maybe they could have been together after all if they had run away like they planned. 

“I lied because I thought it would be easier than telling the truth but it made everything worse and I’m sorry, honey.” 

“Sorry doesn’t change anything regardless if you lied or not. Now you’ve said what you needed to, so leave,” she tells him, pointing at the door with the cup in her hand. He can see the scar on her hand from when she broke through a window after she’d locked herself out trying to sneak back in. A smile breaks onto his face which frustrates her even more. 

“Really, Steve, you need to go.”

“Is this it? Is this how it ends?”

“Are you being serious right now?”

He holds up his left hand in his defense and the carved-out space where his wedding band once sat causes her breath to hitch slightly. 

“I’ve spent the last 15 years thinking about YOU and what we could’ve had. You can’t tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind at least once?”

She drops her gaze to her cup, unable to look at him and the anguish clear on his beautiful features, “What does it matter? It didn’t happen. You got your perfect life and I had to make my own way.”

“You were always a part of what I wanted my life to look like and what I got with Peggy was all fake. I never wanted her or any of it for a second, I just wanted you,” the lull of his voice tempts her to look up again but if she does that, she’ll break. She can only imagine the way his brows pull together from stress or how his jaw clenches to stop the emotions from overtaking his senses. She can only imagine how he’d slowly blink with that sad smile of his when she would make eye contact or how he’d lower his voice to say her name in the softest tone he could manage. 

“Go.”

“Honey please look at me.”

“Go,” she tries a little louder, her grip on the cup growing tighter as she struggles to keep her composure.

“Look at me first.”

“Go,” she says one more time, “Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go” 

Each go grows more and more desperate as her composure slips away from her and everything she’s suppressed from the night he left comes rushing to the surface as lava does when its volcano starts to erupt. The cup shatters under her death grip, sending pieces of glass and iced coffee everywhere. Neither of them flinch at the sound, having grown used to much worse noises thanks to his business. However, the dam within breaks, and tears slip down her nose as she spaces out on the wreckage of her anger at her feet. Steve quietly stands from the island and gathers her into his arms, pulling her away from the mess on the floor. She doesn’t fight it, wrapping her arms around his bicep as she cries into it. The comforting words he whispers into her hair go unheard but she can feel the rumble of his voice in her chest and that provides all the comfort her body craves. 

Feelings of fulfillment and joy fill him as he finally holds her in his arms again but it doesn’t last long when she starts to speak. 

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

“What?”

“You shouldn’t have come here.” He pulls away a little to look down at her, “I don’t understand.”

“You shouldn’t have come here,” she repeats for the third time, “Things were different when we were kids but we’re grown now and too much has happened. You’ve done too much, I’ve done too much for us to be together. This won’t work.”

“We weren’t kids though,” disbelief fills his voice with uncertainty causing it to wobble. 

“Yes we are,” she persists, “You were 22 and I was barely 18. We were stupid to think it was anything more than a fling.”

“A fling?” he drops his arms from her and takes a staggered step back as if she shoved him. 

She turns her back to him to spare herself the look of utter hurt he wears, “Please. Just go.”

Receding footsteps mix in with the rain as he does what she asked and leaves. Her front door slams shut and the shutter shakes the house as well as her. Dropping down to her knees on the sticky floor, the tears fall now like a tidal wave and the sobs rack through her body as she blindly tries to clean up the glass shards. 

Love is not meant to feel this way.

#mob au #mafia steve rogers x reader #mob steve rogers #mafia! steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #mafia steve rogers #marvel imagine #marvel #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #mafia au #fine line steve rogers

[arioloyal]

[[Sepandarmazgan ]]

(King baldwin iv x reader

Part 3)

Warnings: none

Reblogs are appreciated

:"The Saracen say that this disease is God's vengeance against the vanity of our kingdom.

as wretched as I am, this Arabs belive that the chastisement that awaits me in hell is far more severe and lasting." then he came closer and tilted his head a little.

:"...if that's true, I call it unfair." ended his sentence with a chuckle.

: "Instead of really worshiping and loving God and fighting with their personal feelings, these fanatics always fight with others and from generation to generation, sow the seeds of hatred and scare everyone. If a pessimistic person Wherever he looks, it is natural that he sees everywhere full of evil. Whenever there is an earthquake or a drought somewhere, they consider it a sign of God's wrath, even though God said: "My mercy is always greater than my wrath." However, they sit and They wait. They want to take their revenge. Their lives are full of hatred and enmity. Unkindness is a black cloud that always covers their faces,though it's not true about all of them. There are good and bad people everywhere. " said y/n .

Fanatics, whatever their religion and cult, choose only those sentences from their scriptures that are compatible with their anti-human nature. Don't let the details make you forget the generalities. " y/n then looked her king in the eyes with a motherly smile and said, " Don't worry about your appearance. God is always forgiving and I don't see you like others at all. A beautiful essence is always superior to a beautiful appearance."

King baldwin iv happily took y/n's right hand in both of his hands. It is as if she is an angel who came from God, took the form of a human and is here only to guide and comfort him.

:"Just don't look for heaven and hell in the future," Lady y/n continued in a beautiful tone :" Whenever we can love someone without expectations, calculations, and transactions, we are in heaven. Whenever we quarrel with someone and infect our soul with hatred and jealousy, that is the moment when we have made our own hell."

The leper king stated decisively while tilting his head: "So with that said, I am now in the highest level of heaven." Their laughter broke the silence of the room.

Many days passed and the king changed a little every day as if his body was here but his soul wasn't. Others, especially Princeess Sibylla, believed that this was just a passing excitement and eventually, no matter what, they would get tired of each other, but on the contrary, they became more intimate and close everyday. Their privacy was just for two people and there was no room for a third person. How much did they say to each other?

Finally, these forty days of solitude ended.

:"We have never seen such dishonor! Have you heard the news, my lord?"

The person who asked this question was called jerrard, who was one of the closest friends and supporters of lord Lusignan. he added: "A few nights ago, King Baldwin was seen in a tavern in the Jewish quarter. Raymond was with him!"

lord Guy said: "Of course I've heard, how could I not have heard? But I wasn't as surprised as you. It is not unlikely that someone who decided to make peace out of fear of Saladin's attack would surrender to the wishes of a strange woman."

jerrard shook his head and said: "You're right. It was obvious from the beginning that this would happen. We weren't aware. I wish we had known sooner."

:" Notify all the templars immediately. We must hold a secret meeting. That snake of Persia... We must get rid of her, or she will get rid of us....

:"it's Obeyed my lord."

(Guy de Lusignan pov:)

From the very beginning, the king was soft with non-Christians, until now he's in peace with Saladin. He's friends with all the infidels, or even with vagrants and travelers like y/n. This woman, whose origin is not known at all and where she came from, let her get into his chamber, causing him to deviate completely from the right path. This was enough for me to not trusting them anymore and take an important step to start a big change. Every day I warn my dear wife and my knights to be vigilant against this devil who has assumed the face of a woman. she may deceive them at any moment and turn them away from the God's path."

Lady y/n is the devil herself. It must have been her own doing to send Baldwin IV to the pub. God knows how she convinced that helpless leper to do this

It is good that the people have finally realized the truth. The number of people talking about lady y/n is increasing day by day. They have even made rumors about her forty days of solitude with Baldwin IV, which if she hears, I'm sure she'll pass out right there. From the beginning, I knew that this woman is an infidel beast. she's a fire worshiper. a witch who subjugated the king with spell and magic.

I was walking and thinking about these things. I arrived late for the meeting. All the knights must now wait in the secret hall.

When I entered the hall, I hadn't taken a single step before I felt that the situation was different from usual. All the knights and templars were sitting on two sides. All of them were pale and staring at the ground. Absolute silence ruled the space.

I suddenly realized what was happening. a person was leaning by the window at the end of the hall. A woman with long black hair who had her arms crossed in front of her chest and was standing in front of me with a sweet rude smile at a distance. It was none other than Lady y/n.

she raised her voice from the end of the hall and said, "Greetings to you, lord Guy de Lusignan! We've been waiting for you. You're late."

I hesitated for a moment. Should I answer her or not? In the end I didn't answer. Instead, I turned to the knights and questioned them.

:"What is this infidel woman doing here? Why did you let her interrup this meeting? Didn't I say that this meeting should be private?!"

No one answered me. Everyone was surprised and worried. Y/n broke the silence again. She looked into my eyes again and said: "Don't blame your soldiers, Lord Lusignan. This was my idea. I was walking in the palace this morning when I suddenly thought of coming here and see the person who hates me more than anyone in this land with my own eyes.i had to see if he can tell me the things he says behind me and the king's back face to face?"

(Pictures are not mine. Thanks for reading.)

#baldwin iv x reader #kingdom of heaven #baldwin iv #king baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven 2005 #fandom #the leper king #imagine #kingdom of heaven fandom #fanfic #kingdom of heaven fanfic #pov #romance #medieval #writers on tumblr

[allbuthuman]

BSD and loneliness

Loneliness and what it does to a person, as well as how far the attempts to counteract it can go, what they can and can't do, is an overarching theme in Asagiri's writing, and many of the stories portrayed can basically boil down to "this person is suffering because they are really, really lonely", which I love. Here I want to focus more on loneliness of the "existential" type, the one that's almost intrinsic to someone and stems from who they are rather than whom they do or don't have around them, because, in my mind, it makes for great tragic stories.

Dazai

He is the most obvious example, and probably one of the loneliest characters I've ever come across. Able to comprehend everything, yet unable and from a point onward unwilling to be comprehended, no one can understand his mind, and even those "like him" who might, like Fyodor, won't understand his emotions. First of all, of course, he controls them too well. Secondly, although I do think there are moments he shows a need for connection, he does that from the safety of his usual persona (for example, hiding behind his usual teasing), so that, in the mind of others, there is no clear distinction between the two. Thirdly, the awareness he has of his own emotions is probably very low, since he's learned that the only way to survive and make sense of himself and the world is to rationalise. There are meagre chances for Dazai the human being with emotions to be less lonely, until he chooses to let himself be seen and be vulnerable, and, at this point, it would probably be extremely hard for him to actually practice that, even if he did make the decision.

Dazai does understand that it's better for people to be with one another rather than alone. It's clear even in Stormbringer, when his mental health is arguably at its lowest. It's clear in Dark Era, when he says that if everyone around him died, it would be a form of suicide (I'm using these examples even though there are clearer ones because these are probably the times he was doing the worst). But he doesn't believe that he can have true companionship, and is also being taught to believe that attachment is a weakness, that loneliness is where he belongs.

And then there's Oda, who, while admittedly unable to understand his mind, comprehended exactly this loneliness of his. He and Ango both did, and, as per the light novel, they could not manage to interfere, but were by him as he experienced it. And yet he barely knew that was the case, until Oda made it clear, and then the one person who he now knew could see him died.

But what people rarely comment on is how much capacity to care for someone Dazai had. There was one person, the first person who saw beyond the unpredictable Demon Prodigy, the first person who acknowledged his loneliness - didn't even manage to break through it, just acknowledged it and treated him with care, and that was enough for Dazai to care about him as much as he did, and that is heartbreaking in itself.

Lastly, but perhaps the most telling point of all is Asagiri himself admitting that he never knows what Dazai is thinking. I don't want to get too into meta, but being the creation of someone, and still not being understood by your own creator is possibly the loneliest position I can think of.

Verlaine

My second favourite example, because here we have someone who was loved, and he knew that he was loved, but it wasn't enough to change things.

Verlaine's loneliness is objective, in the sense that he really is fundamentally different than those around him, he really is not biologically human. That loneliness of his, combined with the hatred that it fostered, was what led him to seek Chuuya - he thought that the only person who could understand him was one who shared that nature, and incorrectly believed that Chuuya would think so as well. He needed Chuuya, and thought that Chuuya would need him in he same way. He was, however, wrong, because Chuuya, being uncertain of his humanity instead of certain of his inhumanity, put great effort into being among other people instead of discarding them.

Rimbaud knew Verlaine's nature since the beginning. He accepted it, he cared for him and loved him regardless. He knew that it made him suffer and was there for him, and he did try to empathise with him, while knowing that it was impossible, because the gap was not one that could be mended. In Verlaine's case, no love could be enough to change his nature, a nature that made him look at the world with hate, including the person who loved him. To a person who feels like they should never have been born, even the sincerest "I'm glad you were born" would only cause pain, until it was too late.

Of course, that's not to say that he actually hated Rimbaud - it's very apparent from the ending of Stormbringer that he cared about him, and that he did appreciate all the efforts he made for him. I don't know if you want to call it love, but it's the closest thing he had the capacity for. But, at the end of the day, nothing that Rimbaud would do could change the fact that Verlaine perceived the gap between himself and the world as unbridgeable. Yet still, he was affected. Nothing could really change, but Rimbaud reached him somehow, although the ending couldn't have been different.

Shibusawa

Here we have an example of someone who shared a similar kind of loneliness, but never had anything to counteract it. He's portrayed as comparable to Dazai and Fyodor: smarter than everyone around him, detached and bored. But, in contrary to Dazai, he isn't shown having any meaningful relationship that could challenge that. This difference is recognised by Dazai, who tells him to his face that he wouldn't think like that if he had any friends. This is a "playful" way to put it, but in reality Dazai simultaneously empathises with his point of view and discards it, because he now knows better than to view people the way Shibusawa does.

I haven't read the light novel, I'm just basing this on the movie, so I can't say much more, but I think his character works as a good point of contrast between people who still try to find "meaning" and those like him, who have decided it's not worth it.

Curious to see where Fyodor, the other so-called superhuman, will fall in regards to this loneliness, but I think we don't know enough about him and how he actually feels in order not to grasp in the dark.

(part 2 about the less existential type of loneliness if i gather enough coherent thoughts)

#this is long i'm sorry #there are honestly so many characters like even side characters #for example verne and even more so gab in 55 mins #i think ranpo is more of an example of the ''regular'' kind of loneliness but kind of in between #oda is in between too based mostly on what we know about his teen self #me obsessed with loneliness as a theme? never #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd analysis #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #bsd verlaine #paul verlaine #verlaine bsd #bsd dead apple #dead apple #bsd shibusawa #shibusawa tatsuhiko

[magicalbats]

Kinktober Day 16: Public

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 6763

Warnings: Afab!reader, a few sprinklings of gendered language, public sex, exhibitionism, vaginal fingering, piv sex, creampie, talk of cum eating 

A/N: Heizou is actually one of my faves btw 🥴 I haven’t acted right since he called us dreamy in his hangout xmdkxkdnd I’m so sorry

⭐

The streets are jam packed with milling bodies and temporarily erected stalls hocking various wares, foods and trinkets from one end of the city to the next. Most everyone had gotten dressed up to some degree, many of the girls wearing their best summer kimonos and the men donning fancy outer coats of their own to mark the festivities. Even those that couldn’t afford to buy nice clothes managed to splurge on masks carved to look like any number of creature, from the real to the imagined, or on festival headbands knotted at the back of their head in big, woven bows. 

It had been a long, long time since you last saw Inazuma looking so lively and full of such simple joy. A hope for the future that its people hadn’t had not all that long ago. It was the first fall festival celebrating the changing of seasons since both the unjust Vision hunt decree and the equally tyrannical Sakoku decree were abolished, and the excitement in the air was very nearly palpable. Like the newly granted freedom to simply live again had stirred the love and passion everyone held for the world, and it was exceptionally hard not to find yourself swept up in it too. 

Smiling over at Heizou as the two of you make your way down the crowded road together, hand in hand, you try very hard not to let the bubbling thrill of it all show on your face. Not because it was something to hide from him or anything to be ashamed of, but because you simply didn’t know what to do with all this vibrating energy making you feel like an ignited firework just waiting for the fuse to run out so you could shoot off into the sky and join the stars there. You’d never experienced anything quite like it before, at least not to this extent. 

But, to your relief, Heizou seems to be in the same boat and he gives your fingers a tight squeeze to accompany the big, boyish grin he fixes you with in return. “Having a good time I take it?” 

“The best.” 

And that wasn’t an understatement. He’d gotten off work a few hours ago, late in the afternoon, and you’d spent every minute together since, just slowly making your way through the festival at your own pace and checking everything out. It was well past dark now, and so far he’d won you a water balloon yo-yo at a fishing game stall, bested you in a match of ping pong (no surprise to you there), sampled different flavors of sake that were being offered by restaurant vendors, eaten taiyaki and cotton candy, tried your hand at shooting pellets from a toy gun just to receive a consolation prize in the form of a solitary tissue packet, and you’d even walked out to the shrine offering box located in the city to make wishes for the future. It was the most fun you’d had in a long while, and getting to do it all with him just made everything so much better. 

Honestly, you didn’t want this night to ever end. 

“What should we do next?” He wonders aloud, sparkling green eyes eagerly scanning the newest stretch of road you’d wandered into. You do the same, thinking on his question, but he abruptly gives your hand an excitable jolt before you can reach a decision. “Oh! Look, look! There’s a mask stall!” 

Just like that, he’s pulling you in the direction of the stand where you spend a long time deliberating over which to choose from when so many of them had their appeal. True to nature, Heizou teases your taste and playfully tries to psychoanalyze your reasoning behind picking out what you do but you stand firm even in the face of his sly little smiles. You wanted the woodcut cat face with its bold, blocky color scheme. He then picked out a white fox mask for himself, much quicker and with far less agonizing over the decision than you had. Both of you don your new trinkets — yours at a slanted angle on your head to keep your face uncovered while Heizou ties his to the belt at his waist — and the two of you are soon off again. 

“I’m really glad you were able to come with me today.” You tell him softly under the constant murmur of the bustling crowd, for his ears only. Like a closely guarded secret between you and your lover. 

“Hey, me too. I wasn’t going to miss it if I could help it. And y’know,” His smile takes on a mischievous edge as he sidles closer to lightly bump your hip with his. “You look so nice tonight it’s a wonder I can even keep my hands off you right now. I hope you know you’ll be in for a real treat when we get home later.” 

Giggling, you pin him with a playfully wry look. “Oh? Are you sure you can wait that long, mister detective?” 

The new gleam in his eyes tells you he’s strongly considering taking on that challenge, and it makes your blood pump a little faster. “I’m not so sure about that,” He murmurs with a slow, easy drawl. “Do you think you can?” 

You quickly bring your sleeve up to hide the lower half of your face and avert your gaze elsewhere. Of course he would see the change in your expression and recognize it for what it was. Heizou was nothing if not astute and his mastery of body language made him just as dangerous to play these sorts of games with now as he’d been the first day you met him. A rascal, that’s what he was. 

“We’ll have to. Even if we wanted to rent a room for an hour or two you know as well as I do that there won’t be any available during the festival.” 

Humming a soft, knowing tune, Heizou tugs on your hand to pull you in against his side. The firm press of unwavering muscle mass against you just makes your heart beat even quicker, and your cheeks start to grow warm with the first curling tendril of desire. Whatever he may have lacked in overall height was more than made up for in his physical strength and you were regrettably weak for it. Something else that hadn’t changed much at all in the time you’d known him. 

“I’m sure we could find a relatively private place somewhere nearby,” He tells you, blunt thumb caressing circles over your knuckle as if to further entice you. “And my intuition tells me you’re much more keen on the idea than you want to let on right now so … what do you say? I'd be lying if I said talking like this doesn’t have me a little excited. It’s the same for you, right?” 

You steal a quick, surreptitious glance at the front of his pants but the hakama are too loose fitted for you to make out much of anything that might be amiss. That doesn’t stop you from picturing it in your head though, familiar enough with how he looked naked and hard with arousal to see it right then and there in your mind's eye, and even more heat quickly crawls up your face to settle there. It was shameful and embarrassing in equal measure but you did indeed want him. Now, not later. But … but — 

“Is that really okay? If we get caught you might get into trouble. What if you can’t be a Doushin anymore?” 

Heizou’s expression softens, his affection for you visibly warming his face like the first rays of morning light cresting over the horizon. “Don’t worry. I won’t let us get caught. If I’m being honest I don’t really care all that much about my job title anyway, but I’m the only one lucky enough to get the privilege of seeing you turned into a mess …” 

Pausing there on the street, he leans close to press his mouth against yours in what would have been an altogether chaste kiss if your loins hadn’t already been curling at the thought of having him. Instead the slow, coaxing pull of his lips seems to pluck at your growing need, pulling you into his pace with a stilted sigh, and you gradually find yourself leaning further into him. The height difference between you is not so great that you even have to tip your head back to look at him when he pulls back a few moments later, the silent exchange heated with static energy for as short as it lasts. 

Then, he pulls on your hand again. “Come on. I have a place in mind.” 

You follow him, excited and jittery with nerves, off the main road and down a series of small side streets until you finally end up in a cramped little alley. Down to the end where the lip opens up to a picture perfect view of the ocean stretching endlessly into the distance. This is where he stops and turns to you, his hands already coming up to take possessive hold of your hips, but you startle instead. 

“Here?” You gasp, wide eyed with genuine surprise. You’d expected something a bit more out of the way, something more hidden and isolated, not just on the edge of another busy street where anyone could wander by. 

Laughing, he drags you against him to press your front flush to his, and you stiffen at the shudder that tears through you when you feel the pointed nudge of his cock against your stomach. He really was ready to have you, here and now. And not a moment later. 

“Relax. Most everyone will be headed further up the island to watch the fireworks at this time of night which means there shouldn’t be too many stragglers left. This is on the opposite side, away from the best viewing spots, so we’ll be fine.” 

You understood his reasoning. Couldn’t exactly find  fault in it either, but that didn’t do much to quell your nervous anxiety on the matter. “But what if someone does come by? Public indecency is still a thing, Heizou! Shouldn’t we find a better place?” 

Giving your hips a reassuring squeeze, he drags his broad palms up your sides to leave wrinkles in your kimono where he’d rucked it slightly. “Don’t worry so much, sweetheart. I’ve got you. Just trust me, okay?” 

You draw a breath to volley back with but it gets caught in your throat when his thumbs smooth over your chest in such a slow, stilted pass you feel it in high definition even through your clothes. Abruptly forgetting what you were going to say, you slowly glance down at yourself to watch him knead at your chest and a low whine promptly tumbles out of your mouth. You wanted him to keep touching you like that, you were dully horrified to realize. 

No, you didn’t just want it. You needed it. 

Your pussy was already becoming wet for him as if the taboo of this, the thrill of having him grope at you in public was making the sensation even more potent than it otherwise would have been behind closed doors. You could feel it all in startling clarity, how blocky and masculine his fingers feel squeezing around your ribcage. The slow curling of your nipples to leave them stiff and seeking under the thin layer of cotton separating you from him. The way he looks at you, how he draws a deep inhale as if to breathe you in. The not so subtle nudge of his cock twitching against your lower belly … 

Archons, even if you’d wanted to put your foot down about finding another spot you really didn’t think you could wait that long. 

“Heizou,” You say his name like a prayer, an oath, as you bring your hands up to brace them along his muscular shoulders. “I trust you.” 

Green eyes glimmering even under the shroud of night, he leans in to put his face close to yours. “That’s my girl.” 

Your lips meet again, with urgency this time. He kisses you like he’s hungry, a starving man finally finding his salvation in a barren wasteland, and you gladly allow yourself to get swept up in it. Your own need doubles and then triples, making you press your body more tightly to his in a desperation that is as sudden as it is powerful. His silky soft hair brushes your cheek and your nose when he tilts his head to deepen the exchange, kissing you deeply now as his hands shift forward to center over your breasts so he can squeeze them in his palms. A soft, shuddering sigh rises in you at the sensation and you let it out against his mouth when he tugs at the top of your kimono. 

Slowly, the fabric starts to loosen around your shoulders, falling open in the front to expose your flushed, heated skin to the cool night air. It was still early into fall and yet warm enough not to need a jacket, but you were so close to the ocean now that the breeze coming in off the crashing waves below carries with it a chill. It has you trembling slightly, eagerly seeking out the always stifling warmth of his body, but it is an inner heat that starts to make you feel like you’re burning up. It stokes inside you with each demanding press of his full lips, every single brush of roughened fingertips on your body, and even the ever present threat of getting caught is not enough to truly smother it. 

Finally pulling away when the need for air becomes much too great, you send a quick look over his shoulder to glance out at the street. You were still jittery with nerves even though no one had walked by since you’d gotten here but it just seemed to further emphasize how very turned on you were to be doing something like this with him. It was arguably wrong to have sex in a public space — there were laws prohibiting it for a reason — but any concern over it seems to be the farthest thing from his mind right now. 

Bending his head close, Heizou latches onto your neck and kisses deeply at your thundering pulse at the same time he reaches back to grab tight, pinching handfuls of your ass, very nearly hauling you up against him. Your head lolls back when he grinds his hips forward, digging his stiff cock into your belly, but he doesn’t lift you. He could, all too easily. Had done it many times in the past and you’d half expected him to take you like that, against the wall, with your legs wrapped around his narrow waist. Instead, he merely rucks up the length of your kimono until you eventually feel a waft of cold air on your bare backside, and you give a tiny little jolt of surprise. 

“Heizou!” You hiss, reaching back with one hand to grip his wrist. He remains undeterred though, mouthing at your throat even while he almost idly tucks your kimono up around your waist as if you weren’t even clutching his arm so fiercely the knuckles ache in protest. Yelping softly, you twist in his hold to send a wide eyed look down the opposite end of the alley, frantically searching for any signs of other people. “Someone is going to see! I - I don’t have anything on underneath!” 

“I know.” He practically growls against your neck, sliding both hands back down to cup the bare swell of your ass now. The kneading pinch he applies to the skin sends you to the tips of your toes and you waver unsteadily in your dainty little sandals but he easily keeps you upright and balanced without much effort. 

Giving the fleshy swell a rough, possessive jostle, he then slips one of his hands lower to dip between your thighs. The other slides forward, squeezing the meat of your hip along the way, and bullies it into the tight space to attack you from both ends. One set of calloused fingers finds your clit to rub firm, steady circles over the sensitive nub while the opposite digits press up into your slit to tease at your entrance from behind and draw more sticky slick out of you. Shuddering so hard your legs almost give right out from under you, you carefully shuffle them further apart to brace against the onslaught of sensation hitting you all at once. It was overwhelming and mind numbing at the same time but, still, you can’t quite stop yourself from fearfully glancing around. 

It had been one thing when you thought he would just move your clothes out of the way and take you like that, with the important bits hidden out of sight from anyone that might happen to wander by. It wouldn’t have done much to actually conceal what you were doing but at least you would have some dignity left to you. He was practically undressing you right there on the street though, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to any curious onlookers, and you’re more than a little ashamed at how much that makes your cunt slick for him. 

“Are you really sure we should be doing this here? This is so risky — aahn!” 

One of his thick fingers sinking up into your body cuts off the nervous fretting that spills from your mouth, back bowing at the hot sear of penetration. Your pussy squeezes around the intrusion, tries to milk him dry, but he just sedately fucks into you even as he laughs, low and breathy, into the crook of your neck. 

“It might be risky but gods, you’re enjoying this. You’re already this wet for me, baby. Can you hear yourself?” 

Heizou pumps his finger a bit more quickly and you loose a faltering groan at both the delicious drag against your inner sleeve as much as the soft, sticky click that rises in the air. It seems to punctuate your labored breathing, highlighting just how frazzled and aroused you were in that moment, and you finally allow yourself a slow, stilted grind of your hips. His own excitement visibly increases as you fuck your cunt on his finger, moaning when he adds a second to the gripping heat of your body. Attentively, he watches the way you twitch at the increased stretch, pelvis stuttering over his hand before falling back into that stiff, rolling motion again. 

“Not to state the obvious here,” He pants out, strained and thin. “But this just might be the hottest thing I’ve ever been lucky enough to experience. You look so beautiful like this, and all mine for the taking too ...” 

You force your constricting lungs to expand with a tremulous breath while he nudges the top of your kimono further open with his nose to finally expose your breast. He has to bend at the knee to reach without the use of his hands, but he still manages to latch onto the stiffened bud and he suckles with great enthusiasm. Sliding your fingers up the back of his neck and into his hair, you clutch him to your chest and try not to cry out in pleasure even when every fiber of your being was screaming at you to do just that. Between his fingers pumping in and out of you, the others stroking your clit and now his hot, wet mouth on your teat, you felt like you were going to shatter into a million, fleeting pieces. 

“Ooh, H - Heizou! Bless the electro archon, you’re going to make me cum!” You wheeze, legs trembling so hard his probing fingers felt like the only thing keeping you balanced anymore. 

Humming a muffled, encouraging sound into the meat of your breast, he briefly opens his mouth just to latch on again, sucking your nipple straight towards the back of his throat now. The rhythmic suction on your chest paired with the steady pressure on your clit makes you go cross eyed, and they start to roll up into the back of your head as a powerful orgasm bears down on you. You can feel it in your tingling toes, straight up your shaking legs to settle hot and heavy in your pelvis. It has your juddering hips stumbling over the needy pace they’d settled into and you lurch against him, sucking in one ragged breath after another. The digits stuffed in your cunt work a little faster, harder. Your cotton stuffed head begins to spin at a truly dizzying rate, your entire body on fire and — and the coil snaps, so abruptly it sends you reeling in his hold. 

Mouth dropping open on a high pitched, keening wail you just barely manage to keep hushed and soft, you quake through your release so violently Heizou has to shift and adjust the position of his feet to keep you from toppling right over. Luckily, though, he is sturdy and solid against you, and you’re free to spasm wildly even as you force your jaw to clench shut so you can seethe through your teeth instead of crying out.  

You come down from it one little piece of you at a time some moments later, legs trembling like a newborn doe’s even when he carefully removes his sticky fingers from your cunt. The tremors were still so fresh in your mind that just the lingering waves now lapping at your consciousness causes you to sensitively twitch and groan low in your throat at the loss of him. You were floating somewhere far outside your body, intoxicated on the rush of endorphins and dopamine that blankets over your body to leave you warm and comfortable in the aftermath. And, still, you almost couldn’t believe you’d actually been able to cum like that in public … 

Pulling up off your wet teat with a rumbling groan, Heizou finally straightens up to look at you. His strong hands squeeze at your hips and waist with wanting tugs that pull you right up against him, and you try very hard not to think about the sticky trail some of his fingers leave on your skin. 

“I hope your post-climax clarity doesn’t make you change your mind about doing this,” He whispers into the scant space separating your mouth from his, those lovely, heavy lidded eyes fixated on your own. “Because I’m really not sure if I can wait until we get home to finish.” 

He rolls his hips forward to nudge his cock into you for emphasis, and you smile at him. Grin, from ear to ear. “Of course I’m not going to do that to you.” Reaching up to brush some of those long forelocks back from his handsome face, you lower your tone to a sultry whisper. “How do you want me, Heizou?” 

A weak, faltering sound puffs out of him to accompany the shudder that works through his body. Lashes fluttering in sensitive bliss, he closes the distance to kiss you again even as his hands maneuver you back against the wall. You think he’s going to finally pick you up like you’d initially thought he would but, to your surprise, when he disengages another moment later he just gently turns you around. 

“Lean forward,” He murmurs, thick and quiet. “I want to look at your pussy while I’m fucking it.” 

Your knees turn wobbly at that but you oblige, and slowly bend at the waist with your hands braced on the wall. Craning your neck back, you look at him with a small frown of uncertainty while he quickly works to unfasten the tie around his waist. “Are you sure about this? If someone comes by it’ll be pretty obvious what we’re doing …” 

“Like it wasn’t before?” He snorts a quiet laugh that promptly morphs into a soft groan of relief when he gets his cock out. Biting down on his bottom lip, Heizou shuffles closer and places one palm on the swell of your hip while the other reaches between the two of you to guide himself in. 

The nudge against your wet, puffy slit chases away your last remaining doubts and, turning back to face the wall, you issue a stuttering groan when he starts to sink in. Your guts are so soft and pliant that the glide is very nearly seamless, his thick length stretching you much more than his fingers had. But it was so incredibly satisfying on a bone deep level and you moan when your pussy eagerly spasms around him. Hungrily rearing back, you try to take him in quicker and the responding grunt from him rushes straight to your spinning head. 

Panting again, you hang your head between your arms to peer down at yourself — at the shockingly erotic sight of your tits spilling out of your kimono, the shameless spread of your thighs. Heizou’s own wide legged stance behind you that seems to falter when he finally settles against you with a tiny, wet little click from your cunt. It was like something out of the hottest wet dream ever conceived, and your breath catches in your throat when he immediately falls into a moderate pace. 

His thrusts are quick and snappy but flawlessly controlled to jab up into your body right where you needed him the most. You rock back and forth between him and the wall, gasping and groaning as softly as you could manage, while the steady plap, plap, plap of skin meeting skin rises to dominate the space inside the alley. The sway of your tits feels heavy in this position, stiff nipples cutting through the air with each pendulous swing, further highlighting just how stark your nudity truly felt out in the open like this. You’d never felt quite so exposed, so vulnerable, and it was quite possibly the most singularly arousing experience of your life. 

“You look amazing like this.” He hisses behind you, reaching up to shove the back of your kimono higher to leave the full curve of your ass on display. Issuing a ruffled, almost bestial growl of pleasure, he brings both palms to your cheeks so he can grope and squeeze them, pinching tight to spread them and get a good long look at your cunt clinging to him. A flustered sound of protest rises in your throat when you realize he can see an uninterrupted shot of your puckered ass hole as well but you can’t quite seem to find the wherewithal to give it voice. 

“I don’t know how long I can last right now, baby. You’re squeezing me so good and your pussy looks incredible … ooh — dammit!” Groaning, he hunches further over you to press his mouth against the sweat dampened jut of your shoulder in a sloppy kiss. “Want me to cum in you, sweetheart? Want me to fill you up now and make you walk home with me dripping out of you … want me to eat it out of you in bed later? Wanna’ sit on my face when we get back? Huh? Is that what you want?” 

“Gods, yes, Heizou!” You frantically whisper back. “Please stuff me and - -“ 

The approaching sound of distant laughter brings you to a sudden, screeching halt. Your stomach lurches with the cold icy fist that grips you all at once and nearly stops your heart altogether. He moans, haggard and frazzled, when you subconsciously clamp down on his cock but you hardly have the presence of mind to think about that right now — or how hot and heavy he feels pulsing inside your cunt. The only semi coherent thought running through your head in that moment was that there were people coming. And there would be no hiding or excusing away this lurid scene. 

Jolting, you try to pull from him and straighten up but, much to your gasping surprise, he just wraps those lean, muscular arms around your middle to keep you pinned against the front of him. Your heart very nearly jackhammers straight through your chest and you quickly twist your neck back to look at him with wide, wild eyes. 

“What are you doing?” You demand in a harsh, caustic whisper. 

“Don’t worry. They probably won’t even notice us here.” He tells you rather matter of factly for someone wedged balls deep inside your cunt. That he didn’t even have the decency to talk at a hushed, lower register almost makes you scream.  

“Are you out of your mind? I think it’d be a little hard not to notice two people screwing in an alley!” 

Lifting his head from your shoulder, Heizou pins you with a frustratingly innocent look. “What do you think is going to happen even if they do catch a glimpse of us? Send for the shogun to come execute us herself?” 

Your pulse sputters and threatens to give out entirely when another burst of laughter rings out through the night, closer now. Much too close for comfort as far as you were concerned. “They could call the Doushin on us! You would lose your job if you got arrested over something like this!” 

He pretends to think about that for a moment before giving his hips a stilted roll, grinding up into your cunt forcefully enough to make stars erupt in your eyes. “I say it’s well worth it. You feel way too good right now for me to care about any of that.” 

“Heizou!” You could make out shuffling footsteps now, coming down the road just to your left by the sounds of it. The stumbling footfalls and tittering giggles seemed to suggest whoever it was was drunk, possibly even too intoxicated to notice much of anything around them including the two of you. But that doesn’t exactly make you feel much better about it though. Reaching down to blindly grasp at the forearm locked around your middle, you sink your nails in to try and get his attention. “Okay, so they don’t call the Doushin on us. What are we going to do if they recognize us later on? Do you really want to be known as that guy who fucked his girlfriend in the middle of a public street?” 

Looking at you from under the heavy fall of his thick, pretty lashes, Heizou offers up a thoughtful hum of consideration. “If it’s being recognized you’re so worried about, I think I might have a solution for that.” 

“Wha - -“ 

Before you can even get the whole word out he unwinds one of his arms from around you so he can reach up and slip your mask around over your face. You squawk and choke on a laundry list of protests but you can’t quite seem to form a coherent sentence anymore. All the frantic, now muffled, noises coming out of you sound like gibberish to your own ears and even trying to turn your head doesn’t work. He just follows you with his hand, keeping the calico cat mask in place while the other squeezes tight around your stomach to stop you from scuttling away. You’re about to twist your arm back to snatch a fistful of his hair when he abruptly thrusts against your ass, digging his cock so deep inside you it nearly sends you lurching into a free fall. The pressure on your guts is immense, damn near blinding, and your mouth falls open with a stuttering moan so soft and weak it almost gets lost under the pounding blood in your ears. 

You have to force yourself to suck in a haggard, gasping breath of air as he picks back up his abandoned rhythm, narrow hips mutedly slapping your upturned ass again. Heizou’s cock seems to punch the protest right out of you along with a series of high pitched, mewling groans though, and you wildly claw at the wall in your distress. On one hand it felt good … amazing, even. The nervous tension thrumming through your body just made him feel even bigger, hotter, more rigid against your squirming guts. But on the other it sounded like whoever was approaching was almost right on top of you now, the muddled sound of their voices swimming nauseatingly in your head. If they just glanced over into the alley they’d see you. They would know you were getting pounded within an inch of your life and there was no telling how they’d react. 

At this point you weren’t even sure how you were going to react. 

Gasping just to keep back the wounded sounds of ecstasy trying to claw their way up your throat, you fretfully shudder when Heizou turns his head away from the lip of the alley and rests his cheek across your trembling shoulder instead. Hiding his face from view but still not stopping his insistent thrusting for even a second. As if sensing your grudging resignation, his hand finally falls away from the mask to grasp your neck and he holds you like that, by the throat in that loose grip, while he continues to rut into you even when those voices finally spill into the space that only the two of you had occupied up until now. A startled beat seems to punctuate the dreaded moment and then a quiet gasp echoes off the walls. Screwing your eyes shut, you hang your head between your outstretched arms and subtly arch your spine to push back on him and better take his plunging cock. 

You were beyond horrified to realize it but you felt like you were going to cum again. Soon. With or without an audience watching on. 

A flood of relief washes over you when the resulting rush of embarrassed footsteps quickly hurries on down the street, leaving you to it for the time being.  There was no telling how long it would last though if they decided to seek out a Doushin and you desperately rock back against Heizou in an attempt to spurn him on. The two of you needed to finish up and be on your way, but you didn’t want to stop now … couldn’t bring yourself to stop when it felt like you were teetering dangerously close to the edge again.

“Want your cum, Heizou,” You mewl against the inside of the mask, trusting he would still be able to make out what you were saying even with it muffling your voice. “Want you to fill me up and take me home — ah - ahhn! Please, I need it, Heizou, I need it!” 

Grunting roughly against your shoulder, his thrusts start to falter and become sloppy, more desperate. Needy. “I’m close, sweetheart, I’m cumming … I’m cumming, archons, I’m cumming!” 

The noise that bursts out of him is strained and frantic, his usually soft toned voice rising another octave in his heightened bliss. He finally gives up on maintaining his pace altogether and simply slams himself into you, again and again, the harsh plap! plap! of your ass bouncing off his solid stomach growing even louder until it seems deafening in your ringing ears. You start to go cross eyed, mouth hanging open in a doped out stupor while you cling to the wall as his cock spears you straight down the middle; again and again, and again. 

Fingers digging into the skin they’ve latched onto, hard enough to bruise, he at last gives one final, lurching thrust into the pulpy heat of your cunt. He grows immediately stiff and still behind you, letting out tiny little whimpers of pleasure while his cock shoots thick, heavy ropes deep into your body. Just standing there, panting, you bask in the sensation of his seed settling against your guts, so warm and creamy inside your gummy sleeve that a fresh tremor tears through you at the sensation. It was addictive and intoxicating in the worst possible way … 

Some moments later he finally goes slack against you with a thin, heaving sigh of relief. At first you assume he’s just giving you a moment to recover while his cock slowly softens inside you, just warming it for the time being. But then he startles you when he slides the hand on your neck down to smooth over your flexing stomach and then dips between your spread thighs, making you go ramrod stiff. 

And right on cue the fireworks start to go off overhead. 

You’d never been more thankful to hear them in your entire life as you writhe and shriek in wordless delight when those blunt fingers find your swollen clit and start to rub hasty, demanding circles against it. You very nearly collapse on the spot but he keeps you upright with the sturdy arm locked around your waist, and you wildly buck and rear back on him in a blind search for release. The pressure of it quickly bears down on you, only emphasized by the cooling discharge deep inside your cunt, while he lets you grind yourself on him even when he hisses in oversensitized discomfort. You’re practically mindless with it though, hardly even having the presence of mind to understand that you were subconsciously milking his already spent cock for all it was worth. 

You couldn’t stop it though, much too caught up in the violently cresting waves that seem to slam the air right out of your lungs. Tears spring up in your eyes as you twist in his hold, thighs quaking uncontrollably and, finally, with a sudden wrench that leaves you stumbling against him, you cum hard. Wailing at the top of your lungs, thankfully drowned out in the continuous boom, boom, boom of exploding fireworks, you spasm so wildly through your second release that it seems to make your teeth rattle before finally — finally! Going limp in his arms an eternity later. 

Gingerly, Heizou starts to ease out of you and you outright hiss at the dull drag of him slipping loose of your hold. You’re still wheezing when he gently helps you straighten up and gets you turned around so you can lean against the wall for support. He takes a moment to push the mask up to perch on top of your head and then puts his face close to yours, speaking loud enough for you to hear over the near constant racket in the sky. 

“Can I trust you not to collapse for a moment?” 

You shoot him a slow, halfhearted look of warning. “You have a lot of nerve talking to me about trust right now.” 

“Hey, hey, everything turned out fine, didn’t it?” 

Forcefully shaking off your post-orgasm stupor, you reach up to shove at his shoulder. “How are you so sure of that, Heizou? For all you know they could be talking to a Doushin right now! How are we possibly going to explain ourselves if we get - -“ 

He suddenly swoops in, silencing you with a kiss that makes you squawk in surprise and outrage alike. You try to push him again, determined to stand your ground on this, but you soon find yourself grudgingly softening under the coaxing pull of his mouth. Far be it that you wanted to let it go so easily but … well, this was a pretty convincing argument. 

Feeling your resolve start to weaken and then crumble, Heizou finally pulls back a moment later with a big, boyish smile that makes your heart skip a beat. You still try to cling to your anger though and look away from him with a huff, but he just leans close to press his forehead against yours, effectively taking up your entire field of vision so that you can’t avoid his attention. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about a thing. I’ll take care of it if anything happens. Promise.” 

Pausing, he tips his head to brush the tips of your noses in a decidedly puppy-like nuzzle, and you find yourself smiling even though you try very hard to keep it at bay. He was frustratingly hard to stay mad at. 

“Come on, let’s get you sorted out and taken home.” He murmurs softly as he tugs the top of your kimono back into place, but you don’t quite miss the sly inflection in his voice. Not by a long shot, and his grin just widens when you give him a questioning look. “If we don’t hurry back there won’t be anything left for me to eat out of you.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #shikanoin heizou #heizou x reader #self insert bullshit

[theprinceandthewitch]

Hmm... it's interesting how they made Luz wear a witch's cloak in Hunting Palisman - the episode where she introduces Flapjack to Hunter. This is also the episode where Hunter defies Belos by choosing Luz over him. He goes back to his palace empty-handed and he doesn't hand over Flapjack to Belos. Unbeknownst to Hunter, he is following Caleb's footsteps.

But then, in Hollow Mind, they made the choice to have Luz not wear her witches cloak - instead they made Luz wear a jacket with a giant "E" on it. They could have given Luz a completely different outfit like they did in Hunting Palisman. But they don't... they make her wear this specific jacket...

...They also make Hunter wear Caleb's symbol in Hollow Mind... an episode where Luz and Hunter are trapped in Philip's mind... where we can see paintings of the two most important characters in Philip's life - his brother and a witch from another world.

But I'm sure this is all unintentional.

You know, like this is:

oh, nbd, just a painting being paralleled with the scene happening right before our eyes

here's a more high def image of the painting

Oh, hmm, okay, this is a painting of Caleb standing next to a witch with short dark brown hair and who just so happens to be a witch from another world. Both of them are startled by Philip...

Hunter, the Grimwalker who looks the most like Caleb, is standing next to someone who ALSO just so happens to be a witch from another world with short dark brown hair... both are startled by Philip's monster form...

Hmm, must be unintentional I guess.

there's also this:

Mhm, okay, I see... I see, very interesting. Here we have Caleb being lead away from Philip by a witch from another world after the brother's have a fall out. This fall out marks the point of no return for them, as Philip later kills Caleb out of anger.

Hunter and Philip's relationship completely deteriorates because of Luz, which leads to Philip's decision to kill Hunter. She shows Hunter Belos' true nature and she offers Hunter sanctuary at The Owl House right after he finds out Belos has been lying to him his whole life... Luz saves Hunter's life and changes it forever.

Hmmm... very interesting

But I'm sure this is unintentional [I'm being sarcastic]

#lunter #there is literally no way they didn't have a name for Evelyn at this point bc they already had a final design for her character. #Hunter also saves himself using wild magic - the thing he was taught to fear - in this episode. #i like the implication - regardless if it was intentional or not - that wild magic saved Hunter from meeting the same fate of Caleb. #Once In Hollow Mind and the second time in TTT - Flapjack is made of wild magic #hm. interesting. #I also like how Flapjack is the one who brought Hunter back looking like Caleb... in an episode where he asks Luz #-who is dressed like a witch and is #a witch from another world - to help him avenge the physical representation of Caleb and Evelyn's love #interesting. Since TOH was canceled right after TTT i guess we'll know how the ending would play out :( #but yeah TOH has an audacity abt it where it thinks it can just eff around for a full season #without ever letting the protagonist and main antagonistic force intereact UNTIL the end of season 1 #so crazy #speaking of TTT I still can't believe they made Hunter's fav animal wolves knowing Luz's school team is called wolves #then they color coded his wolf shirt and made that one lady say Luz must have been raised by wolves #hm yes. unintentional. whatever helps the antis sleep at night #like how that lunter kiss in SAI was unintentional teehee

[eloeloanna]

Hey! Happy Valentine’s Day ❤️❤️❤️

Lately I’ve been very tired, I have worked a lot but didn’t want to forget about this day.

I wanted to do these questions because everything seemed so hopeful in 1980, right?

So let’s go! I hope you like this 😍

This is for entertainment purposes only.

-

Check my readings! here

-

What were John’s plans with Paul in 1980, what did he expect?

Energy: This was so heartwarming…like I really loved John’s energy here. I wanted to give him a hug 😭.

The cards start telling me about John trying to be as careful as possible, to be mindful of every action and word about Paul, because he was planning to get back to him. He tried his best to be as good as possible.

John thought a lot about being sure about his decision, but then he realised he wanted to be with Paul again, no matter what would happen. The thing is, what stopped John was the fact that maybe, Paul wouldn’t want more than work opportunities - to collaborate as songwriters, and for him it was more of a sentimental matter. Eventually he decided to give in to Paul’s proposal (I have read many times that they planned to work on Ringo’s album. I think that is true). For John it was a lot of effort to do this, but he really wanted to see him, to be near him, even when it was just because of work. But the true nature of his desires was to “be” with Paul. He took this chance because it was a great opportunity, even if it didn’t 100% satisfy his true desires. When the proposal was 100% confirmed, John felt so much peace. He felt powerful again, full of love. Time to time he would think of the past, the good and nasty parts, he would wonder why he would do this if he was through so much shit, but then he would realise how much they changed and grew, so this was a good decision. I think Yoko (or someone near with feminine energy) questioned him about this, but he really didn’t care (😭), he knew that he was “sacrificing” something to get back to Paul, but he was so sure about this guys…😢. It’s heartbreaking.

So yeah, in 1980 100% John wanted to be back with Paul. In any form.

What were Paul’s plans with John in 1980, what did he expect?

The cards start telling me about the feelings that Paul had for a long time and wanted to change.

Paul thought almost always about John, about how he lost him, because he had to have other things. For a long time he thought about everything that he had constructed, how that would tear into pieces If he really tried to be with John again. So he couldn’t reach him how he wanted, and that was torturing him.

So when he thought of changing that mindset, he, in fact, didn’t digest it at all 😭. It was like one day he was thinking about the beautiful things from the past and took the phone. In that feeling of happiness he proposed something to John, something that he regretted IMMEDIATELY. It was like this could go very wrong. But the “damage” was done. He initiated something. When he did this proposal, he didn’t realise that this was like a fuel to John, he only thought about trying to do this the most impartially possible, even when he thought this wasn’t very good because he wouldn’t be able to meet his own expectations (more of the sentimental, emotional type). So he tried to work very hard in making this experience a good one. He was very keen in writing these songs. Even when he knew they wouldn’t be like he wanted them to be (probably because they were Ringo songs?) but he knew anyways that they would be very successful. There was a part of him that was VERY excited for this to happen, but also very worried about Linda and the children. He thought about why he was doing this, then he would convince himself that it was because it was his job. He was going to be responsible. He was going to be impartial. He was going to follow the rules. But the other side of him knew what was going on, he was that expectant of this moment because he was going to see John, he was going to be near him, his mind would be sparkling with new ideas. But this would confuse him, this probably would lend him to “remember” that he loved him. And that was a very depressing thought. Because he was okay with Linda, so he thought that when that would happen, when he would be writing with John, he wouldn’t do anything. It would just be business. But he was scared of John’s “manipulative” moves, it’s like he knew if John would do something, he would “fall”.

#mclennon #john and paul #1980 #tarot readings #my gift to mclennon fandom 💋

[generalhumancloudalmond2]

Blindness

Platonic!Yandere!Paul Verlaine x Blind! Fem!Child!Reader

Going against his own plans, against his own nature, was unbearable for Verlaine, and yet that's exactly what he did to you. He planned to kill you in order to free his younger brother from the shackles of humanity and allow him to accept his true identity. However, this plan failed miserably when he saw you: a blind, defenseless child. You couldn't even figure out where to look because he roughly broke through the wall of the underground factory where you worked.

The way you looked around that day reminded him of himself. After all, in the past he was also blind in some sense, but even so, unlike you, he had power. That was the first time he made concessions to himself.

"If you obey me and voluntarily come with me, then I won't kill you."

Finally your eyes found him and your gaze was directed at him. You were shaking all over, and your ears were still buzzing, but afraid of losing your opportunity for life, you tried to keep the last pieces of calm and respond as quickly as possible. But your throat turned out to be dry, you coughed, and tears flowed from your eyes.

"Al...alrig...ht"

Suddenly you were grabbed by the arm just above the elbow and your first desire was to escape, but for your own good, you had to suppress this desire.

To date, you've been living in his hideout with him. You understood his presence by the smell of men's perfume, since Verlaine walked soundlessly, even for you. During this short period of time you have been here, you have practically not allowed yourself to walk around a new place. To be honest, you were even afraid to breathe loudly in front of him. Who knows what might come into his head?

He usually didn't talk to you much and only on business. However, everything changed dramatically when he made his decision and you don't like what he told you at all. After all, even knowing that it was a lie, you could not completely refute it, and his confident and at the same time soothing tone made you doubt everything that was obvious before.

"That's not true... Stop it... Please..."

"There's nothing shameful about it, Y/n, it can be sad to you, but it's true. You're just like me, like Chuuya, just not as successful."

"No... I have parents... There were parents... It seems to me...I don't have the ability and I... I..."

So many discrepancies, so many inconsistencies, and you still succumbed to his influence. First because you were afraid to contradict him, now because, knowing nothing about ability-derived life-form people, you stop to believe yourself.

"Y/n, I just want you to know your true face."

You feel his gloved hand touching your cheek and you shudder. It's not true, he's doing it on purpose.

You unsuccessfully try to pull away, but your cheek seems rooted to his palm, and even through the panic and emotions that overwhelmed you, you feel his heavy gaze very well.

"Please..."

"Y/n, you are my dear little sister and I will take care of you."

And if he can't be a part of your world, then he can force you to become a part of his lonely world.

#child reader #platonic yandere #yandere platonic #platonic bsd #bungou stray dogs #Paul Verlaine #yandere bsd #platonic #yandere #yandere Paul Verlaine #platonic Paul Verlaine #platonic yandere Paul Verlaine #platonic bungou stray dogs #yandere bungou stray dogs

[lemonluvgirl]

The Miner's Wife by MockingJayFlyingFree (Review)

Hello Hunger Games fanfic readers, this week I am reviewing the wonderful and compelling tale of The Miner's Wife written by MockingJayFlyingFree. (Trigger warnings for  Drug abuse, alcohol abuse, forced prostitution, non-con, and mention of abortion.)

I picked this story first to review because it's at the top of Everlark Fic Questions Top Ten Fics by Statistics and because I've read it before so I figured reviewing it would be easier since I was familiar with the story. So with that reasoning explained let's get down to the review.

The story is set in Single Victor AU where Prim was never reaped but Peeta Mellark was. Peeta went on to win the 74th Hunger Games by himself and Katniss stayed in the Seam and married Gale at age 18. She had two children with him before a mine accident killed Gale and left her financially ruined and starving. In a last-ditch effort to feed her children, she turns to prostitution and finds some unlikely help in the form of the two District 12 victors.

One thing I really liked about this story was the setting felt a lot like the original trilogy. There's a certain grimness and desperation that makes it feel very authentic but the stakes are more adult in nature. There is also some extra world-building. We get to see the before-unseen shady dealings of the Capitol Elite who were not as prominent as in the original trilogy, as well as more of the Vicors/Mentors (from the Quarter Quell) who were previously one-dimensional characters in the original trilogy. By changing the timeline when the story takes place, 12 years after the 74th Hunger Games we get a different view of some very familiar characters, and different perspectives on some characters who were never fleshed out in Suzanne's Catching Fire.

Like the original books, the story starts in District 12 which is a microcosm of what is happening to Panem at large.

Peeta Mellark is back home after weeks of mandatory attendance at festivities in the Capitol. The district is dirty and grey, the people struggling even more than usual. There has been another large mine accident and many families have been affected. Including one familiar protagonist.

Katniss is all grown up with a family. She is once again thrust into the role of sole provider and head of her household. Except this time going beyond the fence to hunt won't save her family in time. She is forced to make the hard decision between her family's survival, staying true to her own values, and holding onto her dignity. Once again she chooses to do whatever is necessary to ensure her loved ones can live another day, which echoes back to the part of Katniss' character we saw in the original trilogy on the night before the start of the Hunger Games where Katniss said she couldn't afford to think about the moral quandies of killing other children because she had her sister to consider. The meaning implied is that Katniss' mindset going into the Games was doing whatever it took to win to get back home to her family because they were counting on her.

On the other side of the equation, we have Peeta Mellark. The story actually starts with his point of view and right off the bat we see that this story's version of Peeta Mellark is more in line with the hijacked version we became familiar with in the Mockingjay novel. Peeta is worn out and barely hanging on. It's been over a decade since he won his games. He's been mentoring children and watching them die for years and he's been sold as a prostitute in the Capitol for almost as long. The story delves into his depression and his alcoholism, as well as his dependence on drugs. It also touches on his past suicide attempts and his suicidal ideation. Yet through all of that, his desire to protect the people that are important to him is still there.

We see from the get-go that even though Katniss never had to go into the arena and Peeta made it out alive, they are still fighting a battle for survival mentally and physically every day. They have both been exploited in different ways and are dealing with the lingering effects of trauma. Katniss with the trauma and grief of losing both her father and the father of her children to the same mine that has killed so many Seam people, and Peeta with having to endure the horrors of being a young and desirable victor sought after by the Capitol elite, as well as mentoring a new crop of tributes every year.

The human tragedies playing out in District 12 set the stage for Katniss and Peeta's paths to cross again merge in new ways and evolve from what we saw in Collins' books. The struggles they face may be slightly different from their teenage counterparts in the original trilogy but one thing I think MockingJayFlyingFree does well is stay true to the inner core of these characters. Katniss is still a consummate survivor who in the right circumstances with the right people is won over by compassion and empathy. While Peeta goes through a horrible ordeal of having his humanity stripped away and becoming a ghost of himself, he is brought back by those who understand his pain, and his mission of trying to save the girl he threw bread to when he was eleven.

Their struggle to stay true to themselves, and find freedom and peace under an oppressive totalitarian regime is very inspiring and at moments heartbreaking. While this story does not have a clear-cut happily ever after it does end on a hopeful note and readers walk away with a very authentic and thought-provoking experience.

I enjoyed reading this story immensely and I can completely see why it's on the list of top ten Huger Games fanfiction stories. I highly recommend this fic to readers who enjoy the grittiness and high stakes of the Hunger Games.

#thg #everlark #fanfiction #lemonluvreviews #LLreviews #THG reviews

[auphelia]

Memento Mori - Chapter 1

*Super nice banner once I make it*

One tragedy never arrives alone Two crows never a bore Three meetings never a coincidence Doubt takes root when one decision comes at a price no one could hope to pay. And when praying and pleading with the divine does nothing to dull the ache, it's only natural that curious eyes will look to other means. When an opportunity at redemption presents itself in the shape of a Harbinger, you're all too willing to cast aside reservations and take him up on his word. Dottore laughs in the face of adversity, yet all he can manage with his newest research assistant is a burning rage gnawing away as everything is derailed. Info/tags: Il Dottore x fem reader, research assistant!reader, nuisances to lovers, eventual angst, eventual smut, eventual ending, fem reader with backstory and personality, possibly not very likeable MC, mostly canon compliant, former amurta student reader, slow burn, tags subject to change as I write MDNI - I mean it

The evenings in Sumeru had always been breathtaking, the serenity as the sun settled provided a constant in the busy city. Golden light streamed through the canopy, bathing everything in a warmth that lingered throughout the serene nights. The bustling sounds from the bazaar barely reached your ears as you leaned against the side of one of the little pavilions scattered outside The Akademiya. Your fingers were deftly working to pick apart the flower in your hand, ripping petals out and letting them fall to the ground.

Suspended.

"As if that old fool even has the authority to issue such an order," your voice came out louder than intended, the few students still scattered around the gardens no doubt glancing in your direction. You slumped forward for a moment, focusing on breathing through it as you hoped no one would approach.

It wasn't like you'd hurt anyone or broken any rules. The Akademiya technically had nothing stating someone couldn't use themselves as a subject. Getting the clearance to conduct human studies was a long and tedious process, especially with how busy the sages seemed lately. All of that valuable time could be much better spent on research into cures and remedies for other ailments.

It had certainly been a bit of a careless decision to inject yourself with something you knew was harmful. Your fingers squashed the center of the flower, it's petals strewn about the ground. But honestly, you'd had it under control. You couldn't help but grin to yourself as you toss the naked stem aside.

The antidote you'd made had worked flawlessly, ridding your body of the toxin within mere minutes. It didn't contain any pricey ingredients, and creating it wasn't as labor intensive as you'd feared, overall it was the most satisfying result you'd managed to produce after obtaining your degree. White light danced across the inside of your eyelids as your palms pressed firmly against your closed eyes.

Progress would always sit at the outskirts of acceptability, the moral consensus always shifting to accommodate what turned out to be useful. At least this held true to some degree, some boundaries were not to be crossed, not even in the name of advancement. The six cardinal sins flashed through your mind, the words beaten into your consciousness in every class you'd followed.

You shifted slightly, leaning back to lay on the soft grass. The stained glass mosaics in the top of the pavilion created a swirling display of colors, the sight almost too much as your eyes closed. Was the act of making medicine not conflicting with one of the sins if taken in it's purest form? Bringing life to that which would've otherwise perished, surely it could be argued that anything could be conflicting with the Sages' views if they willed it enough.

The thought made bile rise in your throat, maybe if things had been different, the rules a little more loose… A sigh escaped your lips, it was most likely a system established by Greater Lord Rukkhadevata when she was still around. And questioning the God of Wisdom seemed like a foolish endeavor. Especially when your mind felt all but clear.

There wasn't any real reason for you to stay, lingering behind was only bringing about thoughts of new experiments to plan, mind already working tirelessly to figure out the next medical problem to throw yourself at. The groan you let out as you got on your feet was downright pitiful, hands massaging your lower back. Doubt bubbled right beneath the surface, your next move from here completely up in the air.

It wasn't exactly a matter of lacking options, it had been almost a full year since you'd taken more than two days off. Shops passed by in a blur, chatter and all the tantalizing scent blending together to provide a dull background to the thoughts amassing in your head. They were pressing uncomfortably behind your eyes, throbbing with every step you took, only becoming more evident as you reached the outskirts of the city.

The door creaked on it's hinges as you pushed it open, crossing the threshold into the modest apartment. The corridor was always dark these days, the door to the adjoining room on your right remaining closed out of sheer reluctance to touch it. Your fingertips grazed the wall as you pushed straight ahead to the living room, convincing yourself as so many times before that nothing good would come from lingering.

The couch was soft, phantom warmth still lingering in the pillows and blankets that had been carelessly thrown around. Eyelids already heavy from exhaustion, you chanced a look at the opposite wall, goosebumps already spreading before the image was fully formed. Same as always, two picture frames. Two diplomas.

You removed your glasses, willing the lines to blur before you turned away, as if that would somehow erase the knowledge. A heavy sigh left your lips, tears stinging the corner of your eyes before you could bury your head into the plush fabric below. Keeping them on the wall was stupid, but your mother had insisted. Teeth sunk into the pillow as the memory of hanging them flooded your mind.

There was a soft thud as a pillow collided with the wall, your body shaking in time with the wooden frames. The scream you'd let out was still ringing in your ears, foreign and ugly.

"I can't look mum and dad in the eyes like this," every word felt like glass, throat constricting a little further with each syllable that passed.

"But there's no reason to stay as long as they won't let me into the lab," the words stung more than expected when they passed your own lips. The reality beginning to settle.

Your profe- employer, had forced you to take at least a week away, insisting that it would be beneficial for everyone. You could only scoff at the thought, as if he wasn't partially responsible for this in the first place, always urging his students towards perfection. He was a fool if he thought a mindset like that would just vanish once the degree was obtained.

Not bothering to eat or move from the couch, thoughts about possible solutions began to form. There were too many variables with this, even without taking social obligations into consideration. Turning to lay face down helped a bit, blissful darkness enveloping your senses. Feeling unable to justify to friends and colleagues that a week as a shut-in would be good meant you'd have to leave. Being unable to tell family about this meant you had nowhere proper to go. It'd have to be either somewhere secluded or foreign, and risking a trip to somewhere new seemed silly with only one week available.

As sleep began to settle, thoughts of locating old hiking gear, packing food, and something to make camp took your mind back to the time you'd spent as a student. Field trips were always the highlight of the year, a small hope blossoming that this might still be the case. Memories of vast caverns filled with glowing fungi merged brought to mind a hulking colossus made from moss and vines, it's leather boots adorned with yellow crystals as it trudged on. Everything soon turned to nothingness as sleep claimed you, the Archon's gift granting peaceful darkness as the fantasy was forgotten alongside the rest of your dreams.

#Memento Mori series #il dottore x reader #il dottore genshin #il dottore #zandik x reader #genshin impact

[celestial-specter]

Once more, it’s time for:

Aftermath’s battle simulation: How one scene reintroduces us to Clone Force 99, and possibly foreshadows later events in the series.

(Part 3)

Following the realization that their training blasters are useless against the live-fire droids, Hunter instructs the group to improvise, as is their talent.

This moment is an interesting contradiction to how Hunter behaves over the remaining course if the first and second seasons - once Omega joins their group and Crosshair leaves it, he becomes intensely focused on protecting the family he has left, thinking through and intensely questioning each decision he makes. This first becomes obvious in the very next episode, Cut and Run, when Hunter doubts his ability to provide for Omega and believes it is best to leave her with Cut’s family.

As the squd leader, Hunter likely feels individually responsible for the loss of Crosshair, and we see him become increasingly risk-averse in an attempt to prevent losing anyone else. He believes the best way to keep his family safe and together is to stay out of Rex’s clone rebellion, a decision which brings about further fallout after Echo chooses to leave anyway.

Hunter, despite his care and trust for his family, has become very individualistic, attempting to take sole responsibility for his family and shouldering all the blame when things go wrong. He has become very wary of the influence of outsiders, as shown by the early stages of his friendship with Phee. He has seemingly forgotten that the core strength of his squad is their unique ability to adapt to changing circumstances, and the trust they have in each other to improvise and work in sync.

Hunter then says ‘If Tarkin wants to test us, let’s not disappoint him.’ While this statement is obviously applicable to the very real test that Tarkin is putting the group through in this scene, I believe that this statement also applies to the batch’s continuing story arc. As genetically defective clones, they have always been separate from their fellow brothers, and have developed a very close bond as a result. The real ‘test’ that the batch undergoes throughout the show is their relationships with each other coming under intense strain, and their squad splitting apart as a result.

Hunter once again lifts his helmet, and whistles to gain the attention of Wrecker and Tech from across the training ground. He could have caught their attention through a number of other ways, but chooses this method specifically. To me, this references how Hunter’s best leadership quality is his human nature - he is naturally caring and unafraid of his squads differences, including the differences he himself exhibits - they are a strength, and not a weakness.

Moving on to Wrecker and Tech, Hunter’s use of hand signals here highlights the key difference between the pair. Tech easily understands the complex signals which Wrecker struggles to learn. This shows that Tech is far more comfortable with a different style of communication than speech - he prefers gestures which clearly indicate what he is required to do, with no room for misunderstanding.

In contrast, Wrecker struggles to understand these gestures. He prefers to keep things simple, preferring a method of communication which is universal for all. While Tech’s intelligence wins out in this scene, the opposite is true when the audience see each of the brothers try to form bonds with other characters. Wrecker quickly forms a close relationship with Omega, while she and Tech struggle to find a common ground due to their alternating attachment and communication styles. Wrecker becomes fast friends with Shep, while Tech struggles to connect with Phee. Even Tech’s interactions with Romar in Ruins of War are an example of how he has to put in more work to find meaningful connection with those outside of his brothers.

However, in this scene, Tech clearly exhibits care and understanding of Wrecker, simplifying Hunter’s plan down to ‘What we did on Felucia’.

When they begin their new battle strategy, Echo splits off from Hunter and Crosshair, running along the outside of the training ground. As his training blaster is useless against the droids, it can be assumed he is only doing this to distract them. This change in position shows that Echo has his own path, separate from the rest of the batch. This movement puts him out in the open at an increased risk of being hit, and running along tilted, uneven ground, representing the danger of his choice to join Rex’s rebellion.

Due to Echo’s distraction, Wrecker is able to take down one of the droids, and Echo returns to take down another. Tech then arrives, utilizing his own skills to begin reprogramming one of the droids. This could foreshadow Tech, Echo, and Wrecker being the three members of the team focused on fixing the Eriadu railcar once it sustains damage. In that moment, Echo uses his scomp arm to try and override the system, Tech climbs on top of the railcar to fix it from above, and Wrecker attempts to physically hold the railcar together when it begins to fall apart.

In my opinion, Tech climbing on top of the reprogrammed droid is also direct foreshadowing of him climbing atop the railcar - both are instances of him attempting to use his own skillset to reprogram imperial technology to save his family.

During this time, Hunter and Crosshair have remained together, but are pinned down behind a barrier taking heavy fire from the droids. To me, this moment represents not physical closeness, but a shared desperation as they realize the severity of their circumstances by the end of series two. They are both trapped in their own situations - Crosshair in Mount Tantiss, and Hunter on the outside with no way to get to him or to Omega. By the beginning of season three, I believe both of them will have reached a state of despondency in their respective fights - Crosshair definitely seems to be exhibiting this in the few clips we have seen of him in the trailer, but I believe Hunter may deal with his emotional fallout internally, and refuse to accept help from others. Either way, they are both stuck, with no ideas on how to move forward.

#the bad batch theory #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch theories #the bad batch spoilers #the bad batch #star wars tbb #star wars analysis #star wars #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #sw tbb #tbb #tbb spoilers

[the-amazing-wonderss]

Save me ROMEO!!

Inspo from the song 'Romeo and Cinderella' but not actually going with the meaning behind it, or maybe it does?? (Nothing smut related to it obviously) But it's however you want to see it honestly, so enjoy! ⎯ ☠️

Content: Hurt/comfort, Royal AU, Female reader, rushed and not properly proofread Summary: In which the reader is running away from an arrange marriage and needs saving!

Characters: Kou, Nene, Tsukasa

When there's something you don't know, It's only natural to want to find out. ⎯ I'm scared. Afraid that this marriage will take me away from you, my loyal knight. If only we could run away from this place and start anew, no titles or riches. Just you and me in this lone world, my dear Romeo.

[A knight in love with the Princess]

KOU is very dedicated and loyal to what he believes is right. Fighting and bringing justice to those who've committed any wrongdoings, while also leaning towards being a mediator when it comes to disputes breaking out. Thus, why he's your special knight, your only knight that you've kept by your side that you truly trust and can call a friend when you're both alone.

So to hear about the engagement? An arrange marriage decided on a whim by your parents? Kou wanted nothing more than to hold you right then and there as a way to protect you from their decision, but couldn't. That is, until you both went back to your room where you cried your woes to him.

It was hard to see the person he cared so, so much for, crying in his arms and having to accept you'd be taken away from him... After all, he was just a knight to you and nothing more.

But what if the story had changed? What if there was some sort of miracle where you didn't need to be married off? What if... You could be called his instead?

It was but a faint thought that only crossed his mind for a moment, but the way you shot up and agreed voluntarily? Immediately? He didn't know what else to say to you after hearing you'd jump on board with the idea.

Needless to say that there was already a plan formed out. A plan for you both to run away and start anew... A story, where the fairytale ended with an ending you decided for yourselves instead.

I'm a Juliet who wants to run away but don't call me by that name, we have to live happily ever after otherwise where's the fun? ⎯ My friend, my soulmate, whatever shall I do? I can't stand to be apart from you nor can I see myself being with someone who isn't you. Isn't that so odd? Are friends suppose to feel this way for each other? What shall I do, oh my sweet Romeo...

[A childhood friend in love with the Princess]

You've known your dear childhood friend, NENE, to be quite the romantic when it comes to love and marriage in general. Whenever you'd meet up with her, there was always something she had brewing ⎯ perhaps it was some sort of gossip she heard amongst the noble ladies, or another story she found and loved? But for once... The one time where you had invited her over for a cup of tea, she didn't have anything to say other than⎯

"Is it true... You're getting married?" Her face was downcast as she muttered out the question. When you answered her, you swore it drooped down even more.

But that's just how it is, is it not? An arrange marriage is nothing more than common knowledge to unite families together, a clear act with no meaning behind it whatsoever, but even so... Yourself and Nene couldn't help but still feel at a loss for words, even when coming to the conclusion that that's just how it is.

Days had turned into weeks and soon, you found yourself already in your wedding gown ⎯ ready for the ceremony to commence and for your life to change completely. And right by your side stood your dear maid of honour. Nene... Who complimented how gorgeous you looked in your dress, can only hope that your husband will treat you right.

But only just after saying that, you immediately broke down into tears, shocking the poor girl who tried her best to comfort you while also tearing up as well. Being a complete and utter mess in each other's arms, not wanting this to be your fate ⎯ you both had planned last minute to ditch the wedding entirely to run away. Far away, where no one can tell you two what to do anymore.

And even though it does end up a bit rocky, with how you both ran in dresses that soon became ruined with tears and mud splattered on them, the happy ending you've both been imagining since you were kids... Is finally coming true now, now that you both had each other.

Enough for you to bite me, enough to make me hurt. I'm the one you fell in love with, right? ⎯ I made a deal with the devil. He promised he'd get me out and take me far away from this place... That i'll finally be free from all my worries and tears, but can I really trust him? Sadly enough, I do. For he is my Romeo in wolf's clothing after all.

[A devil in love with the Princess]

This sly little devil was someone you met after getting married. Coming to your aid only later when he saw how miserable you were with your S/O. Arriving in your room late at night when you stood out in your balcony, by yourself, with no one around to even protect you (from him).

And even though he did come off as creepy at first and a bit insensitive when you told him about your situation, he surprisingly didn't leave. Instead, he actually stayed and listened to you rant your heart out at how terrible it was to even live in this foreign place with no one you knew by your side. He stayed, while others didn't.

Maybe you were a fool for actually trusting him that night and the next few nights after that, but he had always came without you even needing to call for him, and when he did come ⎯ he had always tried cheering you up, even if its in the most bizarre ways.

Though on one particular night, everything had quickly changed for you. Your S/O had found out you were talking with someone in secret and confronted you about it. Yelling and screaming were all heard from your chambers ⎯ but then suddenly stopped... Outsiders would've thought you both had finally settled down, but that was not the case whatsoever.

TSUKASA had made an appearance during the midst of the fight and wasn't at all bother by your S/O's confused shouting at who or what he is, Tsukasa's sole focus was all on you, just you. Eyes looking directly at you, to silently tell you to take the leap of fate and come with him. To make a deal with the devil himself to escape what was already hell for you.

That's what you wanted, right? To leave and be free, right? So why not take the chance with him? After all, he is your Romeo.

#☠️ #tbhk x reader #toilet bound hanako kun x reader #Kou x reader #Minamoto Kou x reader #Nene x reader #Yashiro Nene x reader #Tsukasa x reader #Yugi Tsukasa x reader

[weepinwriter]

“In the realm of betrayal, you played your part, but remember this: Karma is a patient hunter, and its aim is true.”

Name : Gael (m.) | Gwendolyn (f.)

Age : They're in their late twenties

Height : 5’9

Appearance : G. stands at 5’9”. Despite the fact that their clothes are often in muted shades of black and red, it can’t hide the fact that they are undoubtedly muscled and thus very very hot thank you very much. However, their clothes – often sturdy and made out of materials such as black leather – hide a myriad of scars and burns from an innocent onlooker’s prying eyes, while their hood does well to conceal their scarred face. Male G. possess long silver grey hair that falls into their eyes and trails down past their nape, while Female G.’s hair reaches her lower chest with sharp, calculating features and glassy gray eyes. They are often dressed for a upending of the social hierarchy for combat or simply just practically, in form-fitting combat wear. Combat boots are of course a must, along with gloves. They have one particularly nasty scar on their chest, beginning from sternum to their lower abdomen, along with one on their neck. (ahem, credits for the thirst comments goes to my partner in crime @headdaze once again cough cough)

Personality : G., initially appearing as a quiet observer, is often misunderstood and stigmatized by others. People perceive them as shifty, cunning, and cruel, categorizing him as a villain. However, whether these assumptions are mere rumors or the cold truth, G. pays no heed to any. On the positive side, G. possesses exceptional intelligence, ranking high on the IQ scale, and demonstrates keen observation skills. They adapt easily to their surroundings and crafts effective strategies for various situations. Additionally, their loyalty to family and the Legion is unwavering, and they stand up for and support those they care about, even risking their own well-being. While they can be intimidating, G. exercises their "scary wolf" persona to protect their loved ones, berating and throwing shades at those who threaten them. Their friends understand his true nature and appreciate their loyalty, allowing them to be themselves. However, G. also exhibits negative traits. Their preference for staying silent and wearing a blank expression can make them appear detached or unapproachable. Some may find their intimidating presence and tendency to violence unsettling and downright frightening, further fueling the rumors surrounding them. G’s decision to give up on changing others' perceptions may lead to a sense of apathy or indifference, as they choose to do whatever they want without concern for how others perceive them. Despite their loyalty, they may come across as harsh, cold and confrontational when defending their beliefs, using berating and shading as tactics to assert their presence.

Background : [CLASSIFIED] The Subject's background is shrouded in mystery, with no available data within official government systems. Extensive efforts have been made to uncover information regarding their origins, but all attempts have proven futile. It is believed that the subject intentionally erased or manipulated their past records to maintain anonymity and evade detection. The subject is the enigmatic leader of the Legion, an underground anti-government terrorist organization notorious for its activities against the established authorities. The subject is regarded as an extremely dangerous individual due to their position as the leader of the Legion. Despite their failed revolt against the Hightable three years ago, the subject is believed to have survived the subsequent purge. The details surrounding their survival and escape remain unknown, further adding to their enigmatic persona. Given the subject's status as a high-value target and the imminent threat they pose to national security, all authorized authorities, including military personnel, are granted permission to execute the subject on sight. It is imperative to neutralize their influence and disrupt Legion activities to safeguard national stability.

This file is considered highly sensitive and is exclusively intended for authorized government personnel with appropriate clearance levels. Unauthorized access, duplication, or dissemination of this information is strictly prohibited. [END OF FILE]

Likes : hoarding (anything really), tortoises, apples, eating metals (without rust of course), fighting, being understood, daydreaming, meat (especially smoked meat with no seasoning), lilies (especially the white ones), smoking whenever stressed or in a bad mood in general

Dislikes : liars, rats, their lactose intolerance, winter, overly salty food, rust (it ruins the taste), social injustice, getting wet, rainy days (those bring back terrible memories), excessive questions

Pet peeves : dusty surfaces, one uppers, sidewalk hoggers, being questioned for their decisions

Trivia :

has anginophobia i.e. the fear of being choked

Is allergic to the sun, staying under it for longer than a couple of minutes will leave them with angry red rashes, which itch a lot, like a LOT. it's not fatal, but inconvenient? Yes.

Smoking is their ideal sin, and they gladly embrace it.

During the Battle of Stellaris when the rebel forces were gaining ground in the [REDACTED) District, but the tides turned when the Master appeared. Consequently the rebel forces were completely crushed and the remaining forces, including G. had to retreat. The scar on their neck and chest is from that encounter, but to give them credit, they did return the favor.

#interactive fiction #if game #current wip #road to heaven if #interactive game #ro's #ro gael/gwendolyn #original character