#i wish i would hate her even more than i do. or that i was indifferent about her

[superprincesspea]

Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 15 - Forfeit

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Masterlist

~~~

When your mother and sisters break away to join the queen in the wheelhouse, you’re taken to the stable where the horse waiting for you is a chestnut mare with a little white patch between her eyes. 

“Flare,” the groom calls her, and she does not look pleased to see you. 

In fact, she snorts when you offer her your hand, her foot stamping on the hay, and you think the only thing worse than a long ride to the Kingswood, was to do it on a horse that already hated you. 

Still, it wasn’t really the riding you minded so much as the company, Aemond’s company to be precise, though you had not yet seen him. 

“Your saddle, my lady,” the groom says, interrupting your thoughts before presenting you with a fine brown side-saddle, its leather work embossed with dragons and ivy. 

“I shall be riding astride this morning,” you tell him, deciding there was no way you would ride an untested horse without the complete control of both your legs. 

“But this saddle is a gift from the Queen!” The groom retorts, looking completely aghast at your suggestion, his brow knitted and his words curt despite your rank. 

A gift? Surely not.  

Yet , the brass work is all shiny and new, the leather without cracks or marks to sully the pattern. But the most startling detail, which you’re not quite sure how you’d missed before, is the pommel, where the first letter of your name entwines with a dragon. 

For a gift, it’s certainly an extravagant one and hardly fitting for the third daughter of Borros Baratheon.  

You’ve never even had your own saddle before and refusal feels so awfully rude you hardly dare to say it, yet, if Alicent wanted you to travel to the Kingswood with the men, then you should be free to ride like one too.  

“That may be so,” you say, chin up, defiant , “but I shall be riding astride or not at all.”  

And to be perfectly honest, you didn’t want to be riding around on a lavish gift detailed for a Targaryen either.  

What would people think?  

What was Alicent thinking? 

“You heard the Lady,” Aemond’s voice causes you to start as he appears by your side, his presence enough to force the groom to submit to your wishes without another word.  

But you don’t thank him, you’re too busy trying not to think about how he’d asked you to marry him the last time you’d spoke. Yet you can think of little else. 

“This is the horse they have given you?” he says, his foot easing onto the bottom rung of the fence, his tone enough to confirm your fears.   

“Is there something wrong with her?” you ask, a sinking feeling pulling at your stomach. 

“Not if you enjoy unruly beasts.” 

You meet his eye, and a smile twitches at his lips before he glances over your shoulder. 

“Boy ,” he calls to the stable hand hovering in the background, “is there no other horse to saddle for the lady?” 

The boy shrugs, his attention darting around nervously before finally admitting, “the queen requested Flare personally , my prince.” 

“Hmm ,” Aemond’s jaw tightens, his finger drumming on the fence as the groom returns with a new saddle. This one black with yet more dragons.  

“Have my lady saddled on Ōños and I shall ride Flare,” Aemond tells him. 

“But -” the groom half protests, neither wanting to disobey his queen or his prince. 

“You'd rather my lady was thrown from the horse?” Aemond says, and it's not a question, his tone is sharp, commanding.  

Aemond gets what Aemond wants. 

“You need not switch horses with me,” you tell him, when the groom scurries away again, thinking you do not wish to have a prince of the realm thrown from a horse on your account. 

But he shrugs, unconcerned, “I am the superior rider, so it only makes sense for you to have the easier horse.” 

You can’t help but laugh, amused by the utter certainty of the words coming from his mouth and, even if you were quite sure they were true, it was such an arrogant thing to say that you felt compelled to refute it. 

“Tell me,” you say, eyes wide, “is there a reason his grace already considers himself superior when he has never even seen me ride?” 

“You have seen my dragon, yes ?” 

“Briefly , but this is not a dragon, it's a horse.” 

His eye slides to Flare then back to you, “I trained on horseback every day of my childhood before acquiring Vhagar then three times a week after that. How often do you ride, my Lady?” 

"Six times a week, when I am home,” you answer, with so much confidence you almost believe it. But you would not be bested yet again, and you were certainly no novice since your father, who’d always longed for sons, had insisted on frequent practice.  

A fresh smile quivers at Aemond's lips, his brow raised, "is that so? Then perhaps my lady will need to come to my aid when I am struggling to keep up with her?” 

You picture Aemond on a wild bucking horse and can’t help but laugh, “I must say, it shall be difficult to aid his grace if I am too busy making fun of him.” 

“Oh, I have no doubt in that regard, Lady Baratheon,” he says, seeming to almost enjoy the prospect, before the groom returns with the new horse, all saddled and ready, and certainly not what you expected. 

The horse Aemond had ridden at the tourney was a destrier, strong, fierce and entirely black. But this one is smaller, a palfrey perhaps, with a pure white coat and mane, so bright and unblemished, he almost looks as though he cannot be real. 

“What did you say his name was?” you ask, words formed with a gasp. 

“Ōños.” 

“Is that Valyrian?” 

“It means ‘Light’,” he answers, his hand pressing to your lower back, guiding you closer, “he was a name day present from my Grandsire when I was a boy.” 

“Hello Ōños,” you whisper, stretching your arm to offer him the scent of your hand and he nuzzles into you, allowing you to stroke the spot right between his big dark eyes.   

“You’re so beautiful,” you tell him, moving to pet his neck and run your fingers through the wiry bristles of his glossy mane. “And such a good boy...” you add, admiring him more with each pet, “so gentle... so calm...” 

“You offer more praise to this horse than you have ever given your prince,” Aemond says and you’re not sure if he’s scolding you or teasing you, as he moves to ensure your saddle is tight around Ōños waist. 

“Are there not ladies enough at court who praise his grace?” 

“None that matter .” 

“Very well ,” you say, clearing your throat as though your heart isn’t fluttering, “I believe my prince has the most wonderful horse.” Then you laugh, petting Ōños again, “or is that just further praise for you, sweet boy?” 

Aemond snorts and you look back at him with yet more laughter. 

“If my lady offers crumbs, I shall eat them heartily,” he says, extending his hand to help you mount. 

“I have no need for assistance,” you decide, thinking you were finding his company unbearable enough without the touch of his hand, as you take the reins and secure your foot in the stirrup. 

But Aemond grasps your waist to help you anyway. Easing you up and over, the skirt of your gown rising to the very top of your thigh with the motion, so you feel the coolness of the air as it hits the bare skin above your stocking. 

Gods . 

You look down, just in time with Aemond, who reaches eagerly for your hem, as though he is a gentleman.  

Yet , as he pulls the skirt back down the length of your leg, his progress is marked with the delicate touch of his fingers in a way that cannot possibly be accidental.  

Gods. Gods. Gods.  

He meets your frozen stare, his eye dark, and you should say something.  

Anything !  

But your breath is trapped in your chest, and you can only give thought to the almost unbearable rush of tingles which have hurried excitedly to some deep, unreachable place in your core. 

Then he smiles, and it's not a wicked smile, its content , satisfied , and you hate it, almost as much as you hate the way he takes hold of Ōños’ bridle, leading you out into the yard as though nothing is amiss.  

Yet, what was the alternative? For him to gloat? Or worse, for him to say one of the thoughts which seemed to race behind the look in his eye?  

You didn’t want that . What you wanted, was for you to say something. To react. To scold him. To remind him you were a Lady of house Baratheon and not to be treated as such.  

With all of this in mind, and the tingles subsided enough for you to breathe,  you shift forward in the saddle, so your words can reach him despite your hushed tone.  

“Do not imagine you can take such liberties with me again,” you say, and Aemond stops before he turns to look at you, his smile more wicked than you have ever seen it. 

“You give me little credit, Lady Baratheon, my imagination is far more creative than that.” 

You frown, not quite understanding his meaning, then understanding it all at once and your gasp is quickly followed by a glare.  

“If I told my father what you just did, he would have your hand!” 

“If you told your father,” he begins, the wicked look on his face turning decidedly smug, “he would give me your hand, and I’m quite willing to test the theory if you are, my lady?” 

He's right, of course , and that only adds more fuel to your temper, though in a yard brimming with people, you can only seethe in silence. Looking at anything but the prince as the morning sun beams down so pleasantly you could scream. 

Seven Hells!  

You’re beyond grateful when the groom arrives with Flare, providing you momentary relief from Aemond’s unwavering attention, as he moves to inspect his own saddle, before mounting her in one smooth motion which she does not take kindly to.  

She stomps in protest, and Aemond pulls at her reins, his hand on her neck, his words low and inaudible in the busy yard, as he gets her under control. 

“We should leave before everyone else,” he says when she has calmed, reaching for Ōños’ bridle again and pulling him in time with Flare. 

“We should wait,” you insist, glancing to where Ser Maurin is talking with some of the other men, none of them yet mounted on horseback. 

"And get stuck trudging through the droppings of a dozen horses all morning?”  

Your nose crinkles at the idea and, when Aemond smiles, you imagine he’s thinking something along the lines of, ‘that’s what I thought’ , as he continues to lead you towards the open gates. 

When you make it as far as the wheelhouse, you peek in through the slatted windows, catching just a glimpse of your sisters talking excitedly with the queen before Aemond releases your bridle and kicks his horse into a trot. 

But you don’t follow, you pull on the reins, stopping Ōños since you’re in little doubt that following Aemond will be a mistake. 

Yet, you can’t deny the part of you that wants to do it anyway. Because despite what you like to think about yourself, or honour and decorum, there’s a thrill to Aemond’s company that you find irritatingly compelling. 

Why was that? You wonder, thinking how safe and easy a ride would be with Tyland Lannister by your side. But he isn’t even invited, you realise now. It’s only your family, Aemond’s family and the guards.  

Drawing your hand across the reins, you half-heartedly tell yourself to turn back towards Ser Maurin, where you will be safe from any further improprieties or proposals of marriage, but that’s not what you do.  

Perhaps you can blame Ōños, who reacts quickly to even the slightest hint of pressure from your feet. But that would be a lie.  

It's your decision to chase Aemond, and Ōños is only too happy to gallop through the yard, as you were sure he’d done countless times before. And it's reckless to ride like this, with so many people in your path, but you seem to have left all common sense in the stable, so why stop now? 

You jump a cart filled with apples, overtaking Aemond’s lead, and he was right . You didn’t want to spend the morning trudging behind the wheelhouse. You wanted to fly, and the Kings Road stretches ahead with barely an obstacle in your path. 

Ōños, seeming to sense your excitement, picks up speed with little encouragement, dashing through the gates, his hooves pounding the earth so hard you can feel your hair slipping from its pins.  

Your horse at Storms End could never run like this , he’s far too old and far too lazy. But Ōños is so powerful he feels unstoppable, yet you must stop, knowing you will quickly leave the procession behind entirely if you keep going. 

You tighten your legs, pulling at his reins and he comes to a halt quickly, obediently, turning when you pull the rein again, so you can look back, and see that Aemond’s horse has barely run half the length of yours.  

Instead, she’s picking at the brambled hedges which flank part of the path and Aemond is trying desperately to coax her back into his command. 

You stifle your laughter, trotting closer. 

“Does his grace require my aid so soon?” you tease, more than a little pleased by the look of frustration on his face. 

Aemond bites back a grimace, his words laced with exasperation and spoken in High Valyrian as he pulls tightly on the reins. But Flare gives into his insistence at her own pace, taking one last bite of the sun ripened fruits before moving on. 

“Perhaps you should ride at the back of the procession after all?” you tease again, noticing the wheelhouse is now ambling its path through the gate. 

“Or perhaps I should abandon Flare with a squire, and we can ride pillion as I’m sure my mother intended?” 

“Ha ,” you scoff, your eyes narrowing with a dare which should not be coming from your lips, yet you’re feeling so pleased with the situation that it sneaks out anyway, “you’ll have to catch us first.” 

Aemond’s eye darkens, his hand snatching to grab your wrist before missing entirely, “is that a promise?” 

You don’t answer but you enjoy the adrenaline which pumps in your veins. Yet, why not enjoy it? For once, you’re the one with the upper hand and it feels good, you want to toy with him like he always toys with everyone else. 

Unable to contain your smile, you lead Ōños in a circle around Flare, careful to keep just out of reach before you kick him into another gallop which Aemond tries, but fails, to keep up with.  

Yet, as always, Aemond is not interested in losing. So, instead of chasing you for miles of road, he turns, heading back to the gold cloaks who are leading the procession before dismounting to switch horses with what looks like Ser Willis. 

His new horse is a deep hazelnut brown and much more obedient than Flare, so now the chase is really on, as he seems to fly towards you without any hesitation on the horse's part.  

“Come on,” you say excitedly to Ōños, adrenaline still beating in your veins as you kick him into action, charging down the road and leaving Aemond to race through clouds of dust instead of the ones you’re sure he’s more accustomed to. 

You keep your lead, all the way to where the road splits into a fork, and you’re forced to slow into a trot, unsure of which route to take. 

“Caught you,” Aemond says, grabbing Ōños’ bridle so he can pull you both towards him and you roll your eyes. 

“You didn’t catch us,” you tell him, allowing yourself to feel as smug as Aemond usually is, “I stopped.” 

“A promise is a promise, Lady Baratheon,” he tries to remind you, your horses turning in a tight circle to keep you together. 

“I don’t recall promising you anything .” 

His jaw tightens, frustrated, but his eye smiles, “you’ll deny your prince his reward?” 

“I’ll deny a cheater ,” you retort, nodding to the horse between his legs, “you were supposed to be riding Flare.” 

He releases Ōños’ bridle, a long breath blowing through his nose, “I did not wish to lose.” 

“Nor have you won.” 

He laughs, his gaze scraping across your lips, “how about a race then? First to the camp shall choose a forfeit for the loser.” 

You scoff, feeling a little uneasy at the prospect.  

You were already too far ahead of the wheelhouse and feeling quietly certain that there would have been some raised brows at the way you and Aemond had raced ahead of the procession. 

Yet, that’s not what you say, or what’s really holding you back, “I do not know the route.”  

“It’s only one road from here to camp and Ōños has done it a hundred times.” 

You give him a pointed look, “as have you .” 

Aemond bites back whatever expression wants to grace his face, “you’re afraid I’ll win? You have the better horse.” 

If you refuse him, it would be as good as admitting you thought he was the superior rider after all, and you were not about to do that . “I’m not afraid.” 

“Then prove it.” 

“Well...” your heart pounds, “what exactly is the forfeit?” 

His smile fills his cheeks, his eye looking as blue as the sky behind him. 

“When you win, you can tell me,” he says, and you pretend you’re only half considering the bet as you line Ōños up, so it will be a straight shot when you kick him into action. 

“See you there! ” you call over your shoulder, racing ahead and unable to contain the burst of laughter which cackles mischievously from your chest. 

Now was your chance to best him once and for all and you were not going to squander it, except , Aemond doesn’t follow behind. He jumps the farmers fence, racing his horse through the field and you really should have known better.  

In Cyvasse he was always ten steps ahead, so why should this be any different? 

Yet, instead of giving up, you only push harder, pressing Ōños to go faster, leaning into every turn as tightly as possible and trying to keep your eyes ahead instead of searching for a dragon. Perhaps that's what he wanted, for you to lose focus, for you to assume his victory. But he wasn’t the only one who enjoyed winning. 

You can see the clearing in the distance, see white tents and staff already milling around to ensure everything is prepared for the queen’s arrival. But you can’t see Aemond and that makes you nervous. 

You shift your weight forward, almost crouching to gain momentum, just as Aemond’s horse jumps through the trees, landing mere paces ahead of you on the road. 

But, while his horse must slow to right itself after such a jump, you and Ōños are only moving faster.  

You speed ahead and you can feel him tight on your heels as you make it right into the centre of camp. 

“Woah,” you tell Ōños, who seems intent on charging straight through the clearing and beyond, and you're grinning from ear to ear when you circle back to meet the miserable expression on Aemond’s face. 

Victory had never felt sweeter, and you intended to gloat. 

“You look quite unhappy, your grace,” you say, panting as you try to catch your breath. 

Aemond doesn’t reply, and you suspect he is a sore loser of the worst variety, as he kicks his leg over the horse with a frown, before handing the reins to a groom whose probably been standing around since dawn. 

“I only wish everyone was here to see how I beat you,” you add, determined to salt the wound but Aemond’s frown is soon smoothed into a reluctant smile. 

"Congratulations,” he says, taking your waist and pulling you from the horse so you’re securely in his embrace.  

“Though I must admit,” he whispers, still holding you tightly, “I would much prefer my lady to be the one doing the forfeiting.” 

You’d forgotten about that part, winning had been pleasure enough alone but a fresh smile brightens your face before you push his arms away. 

“Hmm ,” you say teasingly, strolling through the small stretch of camp with Aemond as your shadow, “what's a good forfeit for the most repugnant man in the world?”  

He coughs out a laugh, and you already know precisely what his forfeit needs to be, if you are to make it through this picnic with any sense of decorum, but you don’t say it, not yet .  

You keep walking, and quickly make your way past the clearing, to where the forest grows beautifully lush and dense, and if you were to choose a picnic spot, it would be this . Not the cover of a tent with servants to bend to your every whim, but here, where the trees tangle with the undergrowth and the only thing you can hear is the unmistakable chorus of the woodland.  

“Are you going to tell me or not?” he says, and his impatience makes you want to hold your tongue for as long as possible, but you take small comfort in knowing you’re just about to annoy him. 

“Your forfeit,” you say, turning to look at him, “shall be to stay at least 20 paces away from me for the duration of the picnic.”  

It might not be very exciting, but it was the only forfeit which made any sense if you didn’t want to spend the entire day wrapped up in his company. 

His eye narrows, his head tilting, “and if I don’t?” 

You laugh, half amused, half annoyed, "then you shall be obliged to complete an even more humiliating feat!” 

Aemond’s jaw ticks, “such as?”  

You glance to where the river rolls lazily in the distance and think of all the times he’s mocked you for that day on the beach, “how about a dip in the water, since you like suggesting it so much?” 

Aemond snorts, moving closer, “my lady only wishes to punish me when I think she would have found her forfeit very enjoyable indeed.” 

Now it's your turn to snort, “if my forfeit was to marry you, then you are mistaken.” 

He grins, his eye meeting yours, “I cannot marry you in the Kingswood, but I do find it interesting that you would conjure the idea so readily.”

“I -” you start, your cheeks reddening but he was right. He hadn't said anything about marriage, that was all you .  

Seeming to eat up yet another portion of your embarrassment, he unclasps his cloak, letting it fall to a pile on the forest floor.  

“What are you doing?” you say, confused , though your gaze holds a keen interest in the way his long fingers begin loosening the buttons on his doublet. 

“You said so yourself, if I cannot stay away from you, then I must take a dip in the river.” 

The blood drains from your face, your heart stopping just as you meet the determined look in his eye.  

“Because I didn’t think you would do it!” you gasp, and the smile that fills his face is made up entirely of mischief. 

“Do you not take your bets seriously, Lady Baratheon?” 

“Apparently not as seriously as his grace!” you exclaim, reaching to swat his hands away from his chest and dissuade any further progress along the buttons.  

But Aemond is resolute and, as each button comes loose, he steps closer, forcing you to back away. 

“My lady must believe I would have ensured she took her forfeit very seriously indeed,” he says, his doublet falling open to reveal the stark white linen of his tunic, the strings bound tightly at his neck. 

You take another step away from him, your back colliding with the rough bark of a large tree. 

“Do you want to know what it was? Your forfeit?” he asks, slowly loosening the long strings with a single pull. 

“No.”  

A smile quivers at the edges of his lips, and he inches right into your personal space, while the tree holds you still. And you can’t move, only watch, as his tunic unravels enough for you to see there are no bandages across his chest, only the bruise. Faded to a bloom of green instead of purple and so striking against his alabaster skin that you inhale a sharp breath.  

Yet, you’re not looking at that . At least not for too long. You're staring at his hands, as they sink downwards to slide the end of his belt through its loops, each click of his buckle making your heart jump. 

“This is absurd,” you whisper, your body tensing. 

"Really ?” Aemond’s voice is low, seductive . “When I watched you undress, I found it quite mesmerizing.” 

Your eyes flick to meet his and he must see the puzzled look on your face.  

He had found you in the water, had he not?  

“I was on the clifftop, resting Vhagar,” he says, answering the question which had not yet left your lips, “and just before I turned to leave, there you were. Wearing the black and yellow of house Baratheon.”  

He pauses, letting the information sink into your bones, and you can hear the tightness in his breath before he laughs softly and continues, “I already thought it unusual for a high-born lady to be alone, so imagine my surprise when you began to take off all your clothes.” 

He watched you. From the very first moment. He watched you.   

You remember the way your chemise had billowed from your hands, forcing you to chase it down the beach. On the cliffs, he had certainly not been close enough to see every detail, but he had seen you. Your freedom, a moment that had felt so pure, so private . 

Your temper burns and you push him with all your might, the action not surmounting to much considering the man you’re trying to repel, and his strength only serves to frustrate you further.   

“You really are the worst man that ever lived!” You say and you mean it, but Aemond only smiles, enjoying the suggestion and possessing not an ounce of shame in his actions, past or present.  

“I'd say there’s hardly a man alive who could have resisted watching you.” 

Perhaps he was right. But he was the man who had been there that day and, though he could have left without saying a single word, he chose to fly closer, to stand where you could see him. To humiliate you.  

Still, that is the least of your concerns as his belt comes free and his hand moves to rest beside your head on the tree, the hairs on the back of your neck pricking to attention. 

“You’re out of your mind!” you tell him, thinking there was no way you were going to stand around while he took off all his clothes, and when you push him again, he doesn’t budge. He inches closer, his other hand tangling in your hair. 

“From the moment I saw you on that beach, yes, ” he concedes, a spark of warmth flickering across your chest, but you ignore it.  

“I hope you jump in the river, and it carries you out to sea!”  

Aemond bites back his laughter yet he’s so close you can feel the echo of it rippling across his chest, and smell that all too familiar scent of his skin.  

“It would be most unfortunate if I were to die without first kissing my lady, do you not agree?” 

“I am not your lady.” 

“But you have no objection to the kiss?” he shifts slightly, his nose brushing with yours. 

“Yes ,” you’re barely breathing, “I have an objection. I- ” 

But Aemond doesn’t want to hear what you’re about to say, he wants to kiss you, and you anticipate the touch of his lips with more desperation than you thought yourself capable of.  

Yet , as his head tilts, and you feel the heat of his lips searching for yours, you come to your senses and turn away, his kiss landing on your cheek with a low groan.  

Still, it is a kiss, Aemond’s kiss, and even if it hadn’t intended to land as such, it was still warm and delicate on your skin, and you couldn’t ignore the way your body reacted. Wanting more, wanting so much more that you were afraid of your own desires.  

“I think his grace is forgetting himself,” you scold, your words no louder than the flutter of a butterfly wing, but really, it is you who is forgetting yourself . 

“If I am forgetting anything,” he argues, his breath hot on your cheek, “it is why I did not kiss you sooner.” 

“I'd say it’s because I do not want you!”  

“Need I remind my lady that she has the most terrible face for deception?” His voice is strained, a single finger pushing along your jaw, forcing you to look at him. 

"Need I remind his grace that I still find him the most repugnant man in the entire world?”  

Or was that just another lie to crumble under his scrutiny? Surely not. No, you find his behaviour mostly smug and sometimes downright appalling. Yet that didn’t stop the way your skin ached for his touch; it didn't stop it for a heartbeat. 

“You can remind me every day when we are married,” he promises with a slow, easy smile and, just as you think he might try to kiss you again, you hear a noise. Both of your heads flicking towards the sound. 

It’s the wheelhouse, you realise, innocently ambling its way towards the clearing, while you’re standing hot and breathless, pushed up against a tree with Aemond’s clothes half undone and decorum fully discarded. 

This was madness! Complete and utter madness! And you only had yourself to blame. 

“I’m never marrying you!” you say, resolute , before his gaze returns to yours and he stares at you for a long moment. 

“Then my lady must allow me the honour of proving her wrong,” he vows, stepping back so he has room to refasten the strings on his tunic. 

You scoff, trying not to look at anything but his face, “I have quite made up my mind on the matter.” 

“As have I.” 

“This is not a game Aemond, you will not win.” 

He pauses, surprised, delighted , “ what did you say?” 

His name, you realise. You said his name. Not his grace or my prince or even Prince Aemond, just Aemond.  

Your fingers press across your traitorous lips but it's too late to take it back now. So you don’t try. You don’t even dare to say another word.  

You’re free to move and you do so assuredly, hurrying back towards camp with your hands brushing through your hair to hide any evidence from your little misadventure in the woods.  

Seven Hells!  

If Alicent had contrived to force you into Aemond’s company, then she had succeeded entirely.  

You’d made one bad decision after another from the moment you’d laid eyes on him in the stable, and if you were being completely honest, you didn't trust yourself not to make another one. 

No, what you needed to do was find Cassandra and stick to her ladylike manners for the rest of the day. Perhaps she would even switch places with you in the wheelhouse? Yet, as you think this, you remember how you’d insisted on riding without a side-saddle. Of course you had, because you were just as Septa Orella had always told you. A defiant, ill-tempered girl.  

~~~

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[wosoluver]

Cruel Summer

tw: suggestive content

Andrea x Real madrid player!reader

You and Andrea weren't foreign to each other.

You were a striker for Real Madrid, she was an Atletico de Madrid's defender.

So not foreign at all.

And every time you were around each other it was dangerous territory.

Very harsh attitude inside the pitch.

Never worried about meeting else where anyways.

But it was summer. And you and a group of other players settled on going to Mykonos. Hot weather, cold drinks, great parties. What could go wrong?

Everything.

You only realized Andrea was part of the group along with Lola and Cris, when you arrived at the airport.

You trusted Cardona and Misa to make good decisions, about where you were going and with whom.

You tried to keep calm. What's the worst that could happen? Well...

The first day was fine. Drinks by the pool, some catching up with tanning, and you, torturing yourself by staring down the girl you were sure hated your guts. But you couldn't help it. She was definitely your type. Taller than you, blonde, blue eyes. And an attitude.

At first you tried to be subtle, but soon realized two things.

One, everyone was too busy doing their own thing to even notice.

Two, it seemed you weren't the only one who was liking what they were seeing.

You were bathing in the sun by the pool, when you noticed her swim your way. She rested herself next to you, arms over the edge of the pool.

"Aren't you already hot enough?" - she questioned rhetorically in a low tone. But you had no reaction other than to stare at her handsome pair of blue eyes.

She slowly dropped some of the pool water over your back. And spread it out.

"Better?" - she asked with a smirk.

"Yeah." - what had got into you? Why did become so shy all of the sudden?

She was kissing your neck wildly. And you begged her for more. As she trailed down, passing in between your breasts, but stoping just below your belly button, teasing you.

Her kisses were delicious. And you were reveling in those hot breaths she would leave in between them.

"Andrea... pleas-"

And that's all it took for her to give you what you wanted most. You wished this night never ended.

But it did, as you woke up. Sweaty and warm, as you realized that was nothing more, than a dream over your desires.

'Fever dream high in the quiet of the night'

"Good morning sleeping beauty. Thought you weren't going to wake up." - Said Marta as she poured you a cup of coffee.

"You look like you slept well." - said Medina with a devilish smile on her face.

"I did actually. I slept very well." - there was the confidence you thought you had lost the day before.

"I can tell." - she replied like she knew.

But that was only a wet dream, right?

"Didn't know you needed a vacation that bad." - said Misa, chiming in innocently.

In truth, you were the only ones who were taking this down a different road.

"Lola and Cris are waiting for us at the beach. Get some breakfast and get ready, we leave soon."

"Yes, mom." - you said at the older woman.

As both Marta and Misa left the room, Andrea jumped at the opportunity of messing with you.

"Do you have a mommy kink?"

And you chocked on the bite you had taken from your toast.

"Andrea!"

"You didn't deny, so that's an yes." - she said walking out and leaving you with your thoughts.

And you thought you were managing your feelings well. Until you made your way back from a day at the beach, so you could get ready to go out at night.

You had failed to notice the bathroom's private balcony was connected to Andrea's. It was only while you were showering, you noticed her sitting down on a chair outside. She wasn't looking at you, she didn't want to be disrespectful. But she did steal a few glances.

"You don't need to pretend you're not looking, you know."

And this time it was you who caught her by surprise.

"Noted for next time." - she tried playing cool. Although it wasn't really working, as you left her there, mouth watering as you walked away to get ready.

'Killing me slow, out the window'

Arriving at the club you tried your best not to lose each other, the place was packed. But you failed, you were all basically divided into duos.

You weren't complaining about being stuck with Andrea either.

Unknown to you this had been planned by the other girls.

They had taken notice, it's not like you were being secretive about it, anyways.

They made sure you had plenty time together that night.

"Hey where did they go?" she asked through the loud noise.

"I don't know, they were right behind us, but I lost them."

"It's fine, let's just stick together. We'll probably come across them later."

"Drinks?"

"Drinks!"

You had both lost count over the many drinks you shared. By now you two were pretty handsy on the dance floor. As you danced against her and she held your body as close as she could. If questioned she would probably blame on not wanting to lose you in the crowd. Which would be such a good excuse to hide her feelings behind.

'And it's new, the shape of your body'

Just thinking about the fact that, after getting back to work, she would have to put that rivalry back up, it made her stress.

She tried her best to convince herself, this was only fun and she had the right to get loose and enjoy herself.

She was aways good at keeping business and pleasure separated. Little did she know that these lines would only blur more, as the days went on.

'It's a cruel summer

with you.'

And you, you didn't want to worry about the consequences right now.

As the two of you headed back to the place you were staying, after giving up on finding the girls, and decided to just text them you were heading back.

She took no time undressing you by her bed, as she whispered sweet nothings into your ears. You had never enjoyed this kind of sex before. It was raw but at the same time passionate. It felt like your souls had looked for each other, all eternity, to finally be together.

You walked into the bathroom to get a hand towel damp under warm water.

You only hoped, to wake up next to her in the morning.

But you knew what it would cost to have your hopes up, as you made your way back to get her cleaned up.

'So cut the headlights, summer's a knife

I'm always waiting for you just to cut to the bone'

You weren't surprised to wake up to an empty bed. But it still hurt.

"Where is everyone?" you asked walking into the kitchen.

"Good morning to you too. They are outside by the pool." Answered Misa.

"Sorry, good morning."

"I thought you had fun last night, why are you pouting like that?"

"What?"

"Does it have anything to do with you and Medina?"

"No, no, I just have a hangover."

"So your gonna pretend nothing happened?"

"I'm not. Just didn't think you were so interested in my love, well sex life."

"Why not love life?"

"Really? This is just for fun. Once we're back in Madrid, work comes first."

"And your fine with that?"

"Yeah."

You said trying to convince yourself more than her.

'It's cool, that's what I tell 'em

No rules in breakable heaven'

Last day rolled around. You made your way to the airport. You naturally decided to seat together on the way back. You had gotten comfortable in your seat. But your mind was racing. Trying to wrap around this summer coming to an end. And along with it, your relationship.

If it could even be called that.

She laid her head on your shoulder. Cuddling up to you, to take a nap until you got home.

"Ready to go back?"

"Uhum, are you?"

"Yeah."

You thought she had fallen asleep after spending so long quiet, just breathing peacefully.

"I don't believe you."

"What do you want from me Medina?"

"Just be honest."

"Are you going to do the same? To me? To yourself?"

You waited for an answer but it never came. But you were already so out of the reach of better judgment, that you just broke down.

"I like you. More than just this. Is that what you want me to say?"

'I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you

And I scream for whatever it's worth

I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?'

It's a cruel summer.

Special thanks to @pinkyqil for the help 🩷

There's just something about wlw + TS and I can't explain it.

#woso x reader #futfem #andrea medina #andrea medina x reader #atletico madrid femenino

[dreamfyre-beautiful]

Problems I have with HOTD so far:

• not letting Alicent be actually evil. Y’all already hate her for being a GOOD person, I can’t imagine how y’all would handle an actually evil queen. I wish she killed Viserys and made Aegon heir Herself!

• no perspective of small folk, closest we have is Criston who is still more well off then 90% of king’s landing. In GOT we got small folks perspectives on their rulers a lot and I hope we get that soon.

• taking away Helaena’s autonomy. Making her the cute autistic girl who does no wrong is such a bastardization of her that it’s laughable.

• casting with specifically Laena. Do not get me wrong, the actresses are gorgeous and Amazingly talented, but because they aged her up during Rhae’s wedding it makes her look even older than Rhae even tho they have at least a 3 year age gap.

• “and now they see you as you are” WHAT? They see a woman drop all decorum for her child? She their queen willing to personally handle situations? Like I genuinely do not know what this is suppose to mean.

• bulldozing the Velaryon family. Rhaenys does nothing when both her children die to the hands of the targs, no one does anything when Vaemon dies, even when Rhae tries to make Luke the lord of the tides no one brings up that his fiancee should be the true lord not him.

• the new promo saying “[team black] acts more like a family” maybe my family is weird but we don’t fuck each other or marry each other at all

• only truely giving team black’s dragon’s personality. We know Vhagar’s SLIGHTLY but Dreamfyre and Sunfyre are nothing right now

• no Alicent birth scene. We get multiple traumatizing birth scenes but the woman who was a mother of 3 before 20 doesn’t get one? Ok

Will add more as I think of them

#house of the dragon #hotd #game of thrones #alicent hightower #got #pro team green #hotd discourse #anti targaryen #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti daemon targaryen #house of the dragon season 2 #houseofthedragonedit #house hightower #house targaryen #house stark #aegon ii targaryen #helaena the dreamer #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #pro criston cole #ser criston

[redrum-alice]

ABA x Paracelsus HCs that live in my mind rent-free, even though I haven't played the game--

Some of these HCs include other characters involved in their arcade mode.

ABA is no stranger to stalking people. So when she came across a lookout point, she saw many couples, mostly teenagers, making out and going on romantic dates. She wonders what it would feel like to be young and in love, rather than just declaring someone whom she met first glance as a "husband"

ABA's collection of keys were hidden somewhere in the pocket dimension. She sometimes uses them as accessories to adorn herself, despite the like of knowledge in fashion (the girl wears pants as a top--)

There are many shades of blue that ABA can pick from. Since Paracelsus turned himself blue, the shiny surface reflected more colors than just blue, inspiring her to try and appreciate other colors near the blue gradient.

Added to the color stuff, she eventually tries variation of outfits with other colors, but with blue as the base.

Paracelsus knows when she's feeling fatigued. When she's at her limit, he opens the pocket dimension and lets her rest there until she wakes up. ABA sees this as his love language, but unintentional on his part

Both ABA and Paracelsus have no clue on how homonculi biology works, and Paracelsus hates to admit he feels bad that ABA may be at risk of getting herself hurt without him knowing what to do

Paracelsus wishes he knows more about human anatomy because its the closest one to ABA's physiology.

Since ABA is clairvoyant, she often hears the spirits of their victims which she tries to ignore, and probably because she doesnt know the correct response to a wailing dead person wanting justice. When its too much, she asks Paracelsus if what theyre doing was justified and that she begins to regret her rage filled jealousy directed at those that dont even bother them.

Paracelsus keeps telling ABA that she needn't to worry because it was a necessity for the both of them-- something he deeply regrets to say because he knows she has strong principles that she live by despite not being a human

Paracelsus, deep down, is ashamed of himself for tainting ABA for the purpose of tending to his bloodlust. He saw how genuine and pure hearted she is, but it turned into malice because of his demonic origin. He begins to wonder what ABA would be like if she found someone else years ago.

Just like ABA, Paracelsus has an unspoken fear of abandonment, but since he lacks capacity to feel other emotions, he doesnt notice this.

Ever since Elphelt and Testament approached her with good intentions, ABA wanted to make more friends like them, but is scared that others have ill intentions toward her and Paracelsus.

ABA's favorite book would be Alice in Wonderland when she was still in Frasco, specifically the part where Alice was trapped in a room or multiple doors with the smallest door being the exit. ABA admires this because of the concept of escaping, especially that there's a key involved. (Im biased bc my name's Alice and i like this story--)

Besides door keys, she also collects windup key and smaller keys for chests and compartments. She sees this as a symbol for discovering new things, especially music when she came across a music box that needed a key

Speaking of music boxes, she associates this object with Elphelt bc of her musical talent (and that she may as well look like the ballerina spinning on the music box)

Other than doors, music boxes, and compartments, she also came across a small doll that needed a key. After she winds it up, it began walking and talking towards her and freaks her out. But when it said "mama" in a robotic voice, ABA contemplates and wonders if she was ready to become a parent somewhere in the near future when Paracelsus has a body. An impossible thought, but one could never be sure, and it scares her.

Butterfly Pea tea with brown sugar, or sparkling butterfly pea lemonade with honey would probably her favorite drink because of its color. She shares this with her hubby 🥰😋

There comes a time that her bandanges would get uncomfortable and smell bad from blood stains and wounds, so Paracelsus tells her she needs to change them before she gets an infection. He does stop her midway because he realizes she isnt wearing any undergarments and proceeds to take her in the pocket dimension.

Elphelt offers ABA to shop with her to pick clothes suited for her. The first thing she sees at the boutique display was a wedding dress and begins to day dream a wedding with Paracelsus. Without her looking, Elphelt happily buys the wedding dress with matching tuxedo and gives it to ABA, despite Paracelsus' protests (the fact that he hears them chatting about setting up the wedding next day had him ded on the spot :P)

ABA watches home video tapes left in houses unoccupied by their owners (abandoned or they went on vacation; ABA is a home intruder lol). She finds a tape labeled "Happy Day" and it plays a recording of a newly wed couple dancing at their reception. The way the couple moved gracefully tickled an idea in her brain and insisted she and Paracelsus should dance. But since the large key doesnt have any legs, her attempts in waltzing with him went nowhere 😅 (and this gave more reason for ABA to find a body for Paracelsus)

At late nights when ABA is asleep, Paracelsus wonders that if he had a body, would ABA still be shorter or they would be in the same height? Either way, he was impressed that she can keep herself up with that low weight despite her tall stature, more so on how she was able to carry him around without much muscle mass.

When he sleeps beside her, her hair unwittingly falls on his bow and feels how soft it is. A very pleasant feeling he won't admit.

Everyday, Paracelsus keeps reminding ABA that she needed to eat to gather strength. ABA often forgets to eat because its not hard wired in hr system, nor that it was even natural for her to eat in the first place.

#aba and paracelsus headcanons #aba & paracelsus #aba x paracelsus #aba guilty gear #a.b.a x paracelsus #paracelsus guilty gear #paracelsus #guilty gear strive #a.b.a guilty gear #guilty gear

[rebelliousstories]

Ten Thousand Candles

Kiss Me You Animal

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Zylia “The Freak” Shelley

Fandom: Fallout

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Strong Language, Mentions of Death and Killing

Word Count: 711

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

//Chapter Two//

Kiss Me You Animal Masterlist: Here

Summary: Cooper is not too sure if he is impressed or fed up with this new girl. Probably both.

Have you ever seen someone who just looks like if you say the wrong thing, no matter how small, they would hurt you and everyone in the immediate vicinity? That was Cooper Howard right now. He was tearing through the town faster than a bat out of hell, trailing after a girl. Why was he following this girl? Because just a few minutes ago they met, as she stole his bounty that she was now cashing in on.

Walking into town, he just caught the trail of the unearthly colored hair disappearing into the shop where the bounty originated. He gritted his teeth, and waited outside until she was to return. Cooper found a rocking chair, and waited. He was a patient man, and that was being put to the test as he sat there. Most people passed by him without so much as a glance, but others took one look at him and scurried away. It did not much matter to him anymore. He had two hundred years to come to terms with his new state.

Seeing her white hair come through the door, he took note and noticed her shoving something in her bag. He stood up slowly, marching his way up to her while she was distracted.

“Well, gotta say, sure as shit been a long time since someone stole my bounty from right under me.” Howard drawled, almost jovial in his speech. The woman’s head whipped up to see The Ghoul in front of her once more.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so slow then, Ghoulie.” She teased, finding joy in annoying him.

“I wasn’t slow,” he growled, “you were just a sneaky little minx who can’t keep her sticky fingers away from what’s not hers.” Cooper stepped closer to the woman, assessing whether or not he needed to draw his gun. But she just laughed.

“That ain’t how I remember it.” The still unknown woman got even closer to Cooper, and toyed with the edge of his jacket. He snatched it away, and stepped away with a flourish.

“Now, only time Imma tell you. Give me the caps that you got paid for my bounty, and we’ll be on our way.” His hand rested on his pistol while the other was outstretched.

“And if I don’t give you my caps for my bounty?” She replied, brushing a hand through her hair nonchalantly.

“I’d hate to kill someone as pretty as you now darlin’.” Cooper smiled, and hoped she would do the right thing. As she stood there, contemplating, The Ghoul was steadily losing his patience. She came closer and closer to his outstretched gloved hand, until it was resting right against her stomach. Sifting through her bag, she placed a singular bottle cap in his hand and closed his fingers around it.

“For you troubles. Name’s Zylia, by the way. Next time don’t be so slow.” The now named woman patted Cooper on the shoulder, and began to walk away from him. However, he had different plans. Howard stood there with the cap in his hand, and a million thoughts running through his head. Pocketing the cap, he turned to where Zylia was walking away.

“Do you have a death wish?” He called, making her stop for a brief moment. Even from all this distance, the pink eyes she held pierced his very soul.

“Maybe. What’s it to you?” Zylia responded, toying with a strand of hair.

“Do you know who I am?” Cooper questioned again, fully turning his body to face her.

“No. Should I?” Once more, his patience was being tested. Cooper moved his duster out of the way and rested a hand on his pistol that was still holstered.

“Little girl, I’m really not in the mood for this. Give me the caps.” He repeated, fully ready for a shoot out.

“Little girl? Well, I might be little, but not young enough to be a girl. I’m just gonna be on my way if that’s alright with you, Ghoul.” Again, Zylia turned around and began to walk away from the man. He chuckled softly, before drawing his pistol and aiming it at the girl.

It all happened in a flash, but the sound was one that was an everyday occurrence in the Wastelands.

Bang!

#rebelliousstories #writing #cooper the ghoul howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard #cooper howard x oc #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul #the ghoul x oc #fallout imagine #fallout

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 23

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, smut, fluff, angst, quiet hurt & a touch of heartbreak

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Oh, you'll hate me again for ending it like this. Have fun, guys 😂

<< 22 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

23. Every Breath You Take

“More?” Dean offers the half-emptied wine bottle and holds it over Y/N’s glass as they sit around the dinner table. The actress throws him a raised look with a little smile playing on her lips.

“Are you trying to get me drunk? You don’t have to. I’m already sleeping here,” she points out in amusement.

“Yeah, but when you’re buzzed, you let me do more shit.” The green-eyed director smirks.

“Ew, Dad!” Claire groans next to him. “I’m right here. This is why I don’t wanna do family dinner with you guys.”

“This was actually a nice idea,” Y/N says with a smile so bright it shows her dimples. “Thanks for cooking tonight. Perfect way to start our last week of filming.”

Dean’s heart stings slightly at her words, but he covers it with a tight smile. The last three weeks passed by rather quickly, and each week, he grew more worried, more nervous, more depressed, and more anxious. This was it. Seven more days before it all imploded. Six more nights before he might not see her again.

He has been wracking his brain, trying to come up with solutions to save the show – to keep her. Cas and Jo are out on fairs, networking with networks and showing their tape to other producers in hopes of getting picked up by someone else, still without any success.

“So, uh, any plans so far? Heard some of the girls are going to auditions, looking for other jobs,” Dean notes and nurses his beer. He doesn’t hold it against them. It’s the business, after all, and everyone’s trying to survive and find their next paycheck.

Y/N bobs her head and sets her wine glass down. “Yeah, actually. I was thinking about taking your advice and going to New York for auditions. I like the idea of doing theater or maybe even a musical.”

Dean forces a supportive smile on his face and hides the heartbreak in his ribcage. “Yeah, you should. You’d be great at it.”

“But, uhm, for now, I’m actually driving to San Diego in a few days for an audition for a musical. I’m not gonna get it, but I figured it’d be fun,” she tells him, and even though she downplays it, Dean can see the excitement sparkling in her eyes.

“Oh, c’mon, why wouldn’t you get it?” he encourages her. He promised himself he’d always be her cheerleader, no matter his own feelings on the subject. He’s trying a new thing these days – it’s called being less selfish.

But God, he hopes she gets it. San Diego is a lot closer to LA than New York.

Y/N snorts into her glass, chuckling. “It’s a Sondheim musical, Dean. I’m not expecting to get it. It’s just good practice.”

“Aiming high, huh?” Dean laughs despondently and takes a big gulp of beer to choke down his tears.

Dammit, Dean thinks. He wishes he could call the dude and tell him what a great woman and actress Y/N is. He’d be lucky to have her in his production. Maybe the director could bribe him to hire her? Would that take things too far?

“How are you gonna get down there?” Dean’s eyes drift to the leg in a cast that rests on a chair next to him.

Y/N gives him a shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t know. Take the bus?”

“I’ll drive you,” he says with a swig of his beer. See? Supportive. He’s really proud of himself, although he wishes he were a lot drunker right now.

“Ooh, uh, Claire, I borrowed two dresses from Alex for you. I put them in your room. You need to pick one for your Winter Formal,” Y/N tells his daughter with a bright smile.

But Claire shakes her head with teenage defiance. “I don’t need a dress. Jack and I are going ironically.”

Dean’s brow furrows in confusion as he blinks at his kid. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Claire rolls her eyes in response and groans. “Ugh, Dad, you’d think for someone who lived through counterculture, you’d understand.” With that, she gets up from the dinner table and takes her empty plate to the kitchen sink.

“I know what she means,” Y/N mumbles nonchalantly.

Dean’s bewildered gaze darts to her. “Really? What?”

Y/N coolly shrugs her shoulders as she sips on her wine before she sighs defeatedly. “Fine, I don’t know. I just wanted to sound cooler than you,” she admits with a cute smile.

Dean snorts a laugh. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

“I’m going to bed. Good night! Don’t be too loud!” Claire yells before the door to her room slams shut.

Dean watches Y/N as she leans back in her chair with a blissful sigh and empties her glass. She has pretty much spent every night at his place since the hospital. At this point, the director has gotten so used to it that he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if one night she didn’t. Why can’t it stay this way?

He never thought he’d be someone who wants to have family dinners every night.

“Too tired for dessert?” he asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows and his signature smirk.

Y/N laughs lightly. “I wish one of these days you’d offer me actual dessert,” she quips.

“Like what? Chocolate cake? Pie? I’d actually love some pie. Maybe we should get one for tomorrow night,” Dean muses, chuckling.

Y/N grins mischievously at him and leans her elbows on the dinner table, resting her chin in her palms. “Maybe you can eat pie off of me.”

Dean curls his lips, his cheeks blushing at the idea alone. His dick seems to like it, too. “God, I love… your brain,” he quickly corrects his course before the wrong words slip out.

And it’s not like it isn’t true. While Y/N hasn’t been able to act and tumble around the ring, she’s been coming up with storylines and basically coordinated matches for the past three episodes. She’s also constantly by his side and mans the booth with him. If Dean didn’t sleep with her and like her, he’d actually be scared she’s coming for his job. She’s pretty much directing at this point, and he just lets her because, well, did he actually ever care?

But his declaration is only a small part of the truth, the full truth being that he loves more than just her damn brain and has for a long while. He’s been trying to say the words for weeks now, started and stopped a hundred times, and tried to pack his feelings into a coherent sentence that honestly shouldn’t be more than three words long.

However, those are some big three words. Monstrous for Y/N. And deep down, Dean knows she might feel like he does, too, but can’t admit it and doesn’t know what the hell to do with it. To her, this little arrangement between them is nothing more than friends who fuck. Only Dean’s aware that they’re actually in a deeply serious relationship, which is maddeningly ridiculous.

But hey, if he keeps his mouth shut, they might make it another five years like this without Y/N running away, so that’s something.

Dean then rises from his seat and offers his hands to Y/N. Her leg is still in a cast, so she has been wobbling around on crutches or hopping clumsily across a room. It’s pretty darn cute.

“Thank you,” Y/N says gratefully as Dean helps her up and slings her arm around his neck before he fully hoists her into his arms. She giggles as he carries her into the bedroom. “You don’t have to do this every night, you know. I can walk just fine.”

“Says you, but truth is, you’ve never seen yourself walk on these things. It’s pathetic,” he teases her and plops her carefully down on the bed.

He flings off his shirt and removes his jeans and underwear as Y/N unbuttons her blouse. The mattress dips as he climbs into the bed and helps her discard her pants. It’s routine at this point, but Dean has really started to cherish the stability. Every morning when he wakes up and smiles at her, he loves knowing that he’ll fall asleep right next to her at night all over again.

Gently, he spreads her legs and slots between them. His lips find hers in the moonlit dark and kiss her with deep affection and burning love, always pouring his whole heart into each kiss and hoping one of these days it’ll stick.

Grabbing a condom from the nightstand, he rolls it over his throbbing length and positions his dickhead at her entrance, slipping into her tight channel till she’s full of him. Her lips part as the same little gasp escapes her that he hears every time he enters her. He loves hearing that noise almost as much as he loves to hear the big one when she comes and the medium ones in-between.

Sometimes, Dean makes her come before, but on nights like these, when she’s already had half a bottle of wine, he rather works quick. While wine makes her louder and more daring, it also renders her quite sleepy.

“Fuck,” she sighs and closes her eyes with a euphoric smile, her pussy gripping his cock tight as she clenches around him. “You’re always so good at that.”

Dean smiles amusedly. Wine makes her chatty, too. “I haven’t even done anything yet, sweetheart,” he remarks.

“Well, I guess I just-… I just love your cock,” she says bluntly and grins up at him. “And those lips.”

See? Wine.

“These ones?” Dean asks teasingly and leans down, pulling one of her nipples between them till she squirms.

“Uh-huh, yes…” she moans softly and cards her hands through his hair, causing a groan to pass his lips. “And that tongue.”

“This one?” Dean lets his tongue roll over that same nipple till it peaks, feeling her arch her back underneath him.

“Yes, and God, those hands and fingers…” she almost whines.

“Those two?” Dean snakes a hand between their bodies, two of his fingers finding her clit and drawing tickling circles.

There’s no more strength left for words. She bites harshly down on her bottom lip and nods vividly. Her cunt clutches him tightly, eliciting a giddy chuckle from him. He loves making her squirm.

Three more squeezes, and he knows he has to move before she grows impatient. He knows her well by now, knows every little detail about her, and loves that he does. They haven’t even been able to do half the things he wants to do to her due to her current injury and inability to move (or bend) as freely.

And yet, he’s still not fucking bored, not in the slightest. He keeps waiting for it, but it never comes.

On the contrary, he appreciates the feeling of knowing someone so deeply and intimately as he knows Y/N. She has become a part of his soul, and he doesn’t know if he could ever cut her out without severely hurting himself. He’s not sure if he could survive a wound this deep.

“Dean, please…”

That was the fourth – like clockwork.

Dean manages to thrust twice before loud punk rock music shakes the walls and drowns out every noise in the entire house. Hell, the whole neighborhood can probably hear it.

Frustrated, his head drops momentarily to Y/N’s shoulder as the actress snorts a giggle. He can feel her body and cunt trembling around him, but not for the reason it should.

“Claire!” Dean shouts angrily. “Turn that fucking music down! Y/N’s trying to sleep!”

“No, she’s not!” his kid yells back through the wall and the unbearable music. “I know you guys are having sex! I don’t wanna hear anything!”

“We’re not having sex,” Dean barks and watches as Y/N gapes at him in sheer playfulness.

“Wow, you lie like that to your kid?” she teases him.

“What d’you want me to say? ‘I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m inside of her now’?” Dean retorts wryly, making Y/N burst into uncontrollable laughter as she snorts into his shoulder. “Can you please stop laughing while I’m trying to fuck you? My soldier’s already retreating.”

But Y/N only laughs harder at that, tears streaming down her cheeks as Dean’s lips purse with a sigh through his nose. She then exhales a deep, long breath, trying to calm herself. He’s seen her do this very move a hundred times during an acting scene.

She clears her throat and tries to force a more serious look onto her features. “How about a little Russian motivation?” she says in her infamous accent and smiles when his cock twitches in agreement. “Maybe some oral manipulation, yes?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.” Dean grins and leans down to capture her lips. “God, I love yo… your pussy,” he quickly corrects himself once more. That was a close one.

Alright, don’t look at him like that and don’t judge him. He’s trying. He really is.

But Jesus fucking Christ, he loves living these days. Who knew his forties would be the best time of his life?

With a big yawn, Y/N rubs her eyes and stretches her arms over her head. The shower in the main bathroom is running with Dean already in it. She grabs her crutches and hops to the window, opening the blinds to let some sunlight in.

She takes a deep breath and enjoys the morning silence for a moment, her gaze drifting out the quiet neighborhood. It has never been this peaceful in the motel. The last three weeks, she has really appreciated waking up in Dean’s bed. She knows she’s probably overstaying her welcome at this point, but he hasn’t kicked her to the curb yet, so she hasn’t been in a hurry to return to the motel, either.

He was right – the memory foam mattress is fucking heaven, especially with a broken ankle.

All in all, she imagined being benched for the show would be a lot worse than it is. Dean’s done a great job of incorporating her anywhere outside of the ring. She’s helping with storylines, training, directing, producing – really anything that could use a few tweaks. The green-eyed director is unfashionably nice to her. Maybe it’s the sex or their friendship or a combination of both. Either way, she’s grateful for him.

However, there’s this tiny voice inside her head that keeps telling her there’s a reason why Dean’s been so nice, and it’s not just the sex. It’s certain kisses and touches and looks – especially the looks – that make her believe there’s something lying underneath the surface. An iceberg so gigantic it could sink the Titanic. Whenever she catches his clandestine gazes from her periphery, there’s this inexplicable feeling that creeps through her veins.

Her peace is disturbed when excessive knocking and an uninterrupted ringing of the doorbell draw her attention to the front door. A part of her expects to find her best friend behind it. Only Jo could be this ruthless and obnoxious.

Y/N hurries to the door as fast as she can, which isn’t fast at all, considering she’s on crutches. Everything is just awkward and slow these days, but she’s been practicing moving around in hopes of joining the show again for the final episode. Billie and Donna have been helping her, too.

But as Y/N opens the door, she’s not greeted by the familiar blonde but by a brunette stranger instead. The only similarity the woman shares with Jo is that she’s incredibly hot and angry, too.

“Can I help you?” Y/N asks with a look of bewilderment, although she shouldn’t be surprised to find a mad woman on Dean’s doorstep.

“I’m Lisa Braeden. I’m looking for my daughter,” the woman says, somewhat impatiently.

Oh.

“Uh…”

Y/N stumps for a moment, eyeing the woman in front of her closely. So, this is Claire’s mother. Dean’s ex. She tries not to feel insecure around her, but it’s hard, considering the woman is a bombshell with perfect curves and flawless features. And if she looks like that now, Y/N wonders what she must’ve looked like seventeen years ago.

The actress suddenly feels very exposed in only the director’s flannel. Truthfully, she looks like she just crawled out of a gutter. Maybe it’s the fact she has just woken up and is sporting major bed-head, but Lisa probably thinks Dean took in a homeless person. The cast and crutches don’t help, either. And then, Y/N wonders why a part of her cares at all what the brunette thinks and reminds herself it’s not a competition.

“Dean? Dean!”

Her voice carries a certain amount of panic that’s probably uncalled for. Yet, it helps. The shower turns off, and not a minute later, Dean stands next to her with only a towel wrapped around his waist, his broad chest still glistening with droplets of water.

He does know how to make an entrance.

Dean’s brow is deeply creased when he takes in the woman at the door, lacking a sense of recognition, however. “What the fuck is all that noise?”

“I’m the fucking noise,” Lisa replies dryly. “I’m here for my kid.”

“Oh…” Dean stumps as well. Then, he swallows thickly and gives her a nervous smile. “Hi, uhm, I’m Dean Winchester.”

“I know who you fucking are, you moron,” Lisa huffs, shaking her head. “You got me pregnant. Where’s Claire?” When neither Dean nor Y/N answer, Lisa rolls her eyes and waltzes past the two inside the house. “Claire!”

“Sure, come on in,” Dean mutters under his breath and shares a wide-eyed look with Y/N, hoping for some guidance.

The actress eyes him up and down, pensively licking her lips. “Maybe you should get dressed.”

With some pants and a shirt on, Dean and Y/N have retreated to the kitchen and sip quietly on their cups of coffee while Lisa and Claire scream at each other. It’s a classic mother and teenage daughter battle. Claire fights for freedom, while Lisa fights for control.

“I had sex with that woman seventeen years ago. Now she’s in my house, yelling at my kid,” the director voices his thoughts out loud, a hint of trepidation shimmering in his green eyes.

“Yup, life has a way of catching up with you. Kinda learned that this year,” Y/N notes with pursed lips and sends him a smile. “But hey, they’re your family now. Kinda nice, right?”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking,” Dean huffs with a bitter look and watches Y/N place her mug in the sink.

“I should probably go. Leave you guys to figure this out,” Y/N announces, one hop on a healthy foot away from walking out the door. “I’ll call a cab.”

“No, don’t! You can’t leave me here alone with them,” Dean pleads, the sheer panic and desperation visible in his eyes and audible in his voice. His gaze bores into her. “C’mon, I need you. This is one of those, you know, friendship moments. Like abortions and getting over coke addictions.”

Y/N lets out a small sigh. How could she leave him after everything he’s done for her? She basically has no choice but to stay and help him through this. “What d’you want me to do? Mediate?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Dean shrugs helplessly. “I just know I’m gonna say all the wrong shit at the wrong time. Please. I don’t wanna lose my kid. Help me.”

As she catches his gaze, there’s that inexplicable feeling creeping through her veins again. This time, it even tugs on her heart.

“Okay, uhm, alright. I’ll stay,” she promises him, offering him a small smile of comfort.

Unbeknownst to her, though, Dean comes close to saying the three ominous words once more. It’s getting harder every day to keep them inside. How long does he have until he bursts? He feels like a ticking time bomb.

“Maybe we should all sit down and talk?” Y/N suggests as soon as Claire has stormed into her room and slammed the door in upset.

“About what?” Lisa barks, half-annoyed as she rests her hands on her squared-off hips. “She’s been lying to me for months.”

“Okay, in my defense, she told me you were crazy,” Dean explains with an innocent shrug.

“I don’t care if she told you I beat her and locked her into the basement. If a kid has run away from home, you call their mother,” Lisa retorts furiously.

Dean purses his lips in defeat for a moment, especially when Y/N seems to agree. She’s kind of his moral compass, but he’s not ready to accept his loss yet. “Well, you didn’t call me to tell me you were having a kid. My kid,” he argues and knows it’ll probably backfire. He can tell by Y/N’s frown.

“Oh, excuse me for not calling the guy who didn’t stay for breakfast,” Lisa counters with an eye roll.

Dean’s brow furrows, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s what happened.” Granted, he’s been high for two decades now.

“I asked if you wanted pancakes. You said, ‘No, thanks, but that was fun.’ And then you got into your car and bolted, never to be seen again,” Lisa recalls, frowning.

“Uhm, that sounds like it was a long time ago,” Y/N interjects in his defense, chuckling nervously. “He’s a different and more mature person now.”

Dean’s heart swells to twice its size. It’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about him. Although, he can tell she only said it to win Lisa over. She’s a good actress, making even him believe her words. But she’s helping him, so it’s the thought that counts.

“Thanks for the input. Who are you again? Are you his fucking maid?” Lisa arches a brow at her, eyeing her up and down.

“No, she’s not my maid,” Dean replies fiercely but then doesn’t know what else to say. Girlfriend? Lover? Friend? Nothing sounds right. “She’s my, uhm, she’s my actress. She’s my… You know, she’s… She’s Y/N.”

At that, Y/N’s brow draws together in the middle with a tilt of her head. Dean surmises that answer probably sounded even weirder.

“Yeah, I can see you’ve changed so much.” Lisa scoffs sarcastically and folds her arms over her chest, her patience running low.

Y/N subtly clears her throat, deciding to step in. God knows the director needs all the help he can get. “Okay, uhm, it doesn’t really matter who I am,” she says and shares a look with Dean, who anxiously chews his bottom lip raw. “What matters is that Dean has really connected with Claire over the last few months. He’s enrolled her in high school, she has joined AV club, she’s got a really nice and sweet boyfriend.” Dean grimaces at that last part, but Y/N skillfully ignores it and continues, “They’re going to Winter Formal tonight.”

“Yeah, I’m chaperoning,” Dean announces proudly. “This dance is very meaningful to her.”

Lisa snorts a laugh, clearly amused. “My kid does not go to dances.”

“Yes, I do!” Claire suddenly stands in the middle of the living room with the brightest smile. It’s freaky, really. She gleefully holds up the two dresses Y/N brought over last night, feigning her excitement. “Which one should I wear?”

Lisa and Dean disagree on the dress choice, but when Y/N sides with Lisa, Claire takes the hint and quickly disappears back into her room.

“It’s just one night, and it will give you two some time to catch up. Figure this out,” Y/N advocates suggestively.

“Yeah, what she said,” Dean agrees and clears his dry throat, wishing he had a bottle of booze in his hand to calm his nerves. Man, in stressful situations like these, he does miss coke sometimes. But fucking Y/N has been a great substitute, so maybe he’ll just do that as soon as that crazy woman leaves his house again. “Look, I get that you’re angry. But I’m really trying here, okay? She’s doing great at school, I gave her a curfew… I wanna make up for lost time,” he explains sincerely. Y/N sends him a proud smile.

“Fine, one night, but tomorrow we’re leaving,” Lisa relents with a sigh. “I’m not gonna indulge this fucking father-daughter fantasy,” she huffs and then finally storms out of the house.

Y/N exhales a long sigh of relief. “Well, that went better than expected.”

“You think?” Dean checks insecurely. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done if Y/N hadn’t been here to support him. “You’re coming tonight, right?”

Surprised by the request, Y/N’s brow meets her hairline. “You want me to go to your daughter’s Winter Formal with you?”

“Yes, obviously,” Dean states matter-of-factly and blinks at her. “You can’t leave me alone with that woman.”

Y/N heaves another sigh as she looks at him. “Okay, fine,” she surrenders.

Sitting on the bleachers of a fully decorated gym, Y/N realizes she has kind of missed high school. At least, everything used to be much simpler back then. Your crush would ask you to go steady, you’d say yes or no, and then you’d be broken up shortly after prom.

Adulthood is complicated. People are complicated. And love is goddamn unfathomably complicated.

“It’s so weird seeing her with her first high school boyfriend,” Lisa notes with a small sigh next to her. “I still remember her drawing with crayons. Now, she’s running miles away, lying, and making out with a boy.”

“Yeah, teenage romance is a lot more intense,” Y/N says, chuckling softly.

“She won’t wear a dress to my wedding. Refused to. Screamed bloody murder,” Lisa says thoughtfully. “But after spending a few months with her estranged father, she suddenly puts one on.”

“People are complicated,” Y/N reiterates her earlier sentiment.

Claire is complicated. Dean is complicated. And Y/N? She might be the most complicated of all.

“My fiancé is not,” Lisa says, a delicate smile playing across her lips. It’s enough to show her happiness. “I always used to date these guys that would run so hot and then completely cold the next minute. I never knew where I stood. It was exhausting.”

“Yeah, I get it…”

Y/N’s eyes drift to Dean as he chats with one of the other dads by the buffet. She doesn’t know what the director wants from her. She doesn’t know what their relationship even is. One minute, it feels epic, like a love so legendary it should only exist on the silver screen. And the next minute, it feels trivial, like it should’ve never existed at all.

But Dean’s not the problem. Deep down, she knows what that creeping feeling in the pits of her stomach is. And she knows she’s not ready for it. Truth is, Y/N has no idea what she wants and feels lost. Because if she admits one thing, it’d mean the end of another. If she stays in LA for a guy, what would that mean for her career? She doesn’t want to end up like Jo. She’s finally about to have it all, only to realize both at the same time are a mere dream.

And worst of all, even if she did know what she wanted, she’s doesn’t know if she deserves it.

“So, what d’you do, son?” an older man next to Dean asks. He’s already balding and gray, as is the scruffy beard he’s sporting. His suit jacket with a name tag that reads “Chaperone” looks a little worn and sleazy, too. The director figured he’d be one of the oldest dads here, so this guy comes as a pleasant surprise.

“I’m a director of a women’s wrestling show,” Dean replies and takes a sip from the fruit punch. None of the kids have spiked it yet, which is quite the disappointment. What’s happening to today’s youth, huh? “And you?”

“Oh, nice.” The man nods with a smile and pulls out a business card from his suit jacket, handing it to Dean. “Bobby Singer. I own a small chain of strip clubs, although my wife Ellen would probably like me to tell you I’m a small business owner.”

“Got it.” Dean chuckles and glances at the card in his hands. “Bobby’s Body Shop. Oh, hey, I know this one! ‘Where the girls are hotter than the asphalt,’” he quotes the club’s tagline proudly, grinning. “I’m there all the time! Actually got one of your girls in my show.”

Bobby chuckles. “Well, next time you’re there, ask for me. I’ll get you a discount.”

“Thanks.” Dean smirks. And Cas claims you can only network on the fucking golf course. “Oh, hey, you should catch one of our shows. It’s our last one this week. It’s pretty badass. We’re over at the old gym in Watts.”

“Alright, I’ll see you there,” Bobby says with a smile.

Dean’s eyes then drift to Y/N on the bleachers. Last time he checked on her, she was still chatting with Lisa, but the brunette has since left. And as he glances at her now, Y/N has found herself encircled by a group of horny teenage boys, causing his brows to draw together and meet in the middle. They’re like fucking vultures.

“Shoo!” Dean barks sternly at the young men as he approaches the group and watches them scurry away with their tails tugged between their scrawny legs.

With an amused smile, Y/N arches an eyebrow at him. “Glad you’ve decided to join me. It was getting crowded. I’ve turned down about twenty offers to dance.”

“Look at you, you little heartbreaking cougar,” Dean retorts with a teasing smile. “You’re gonna turn me down, too?”

“I have a broken ankle. Did you forget that part? I can’t dance,” Y/N replies.

“Oh, c’mon, that never stopped you before. ‘Sides, I’ve got two working legs and can’t dance, either. So, what d’you say, huh?” Dean holds out his hands for her to grasp.

“Fine,” Y/N relents and grabs his hands, hopping to her feet. “Let’s do some awkward swaying.”

“That’s the spirit.” Dean laughs and rests his palms on her hips, helping her stand as she locks her arms around his neck.

“Is that what you had in mind?” Y/N asks teasingly as she looks up and meets his gaze.

“Kinda.” Dean dips his head and catches her lips, deepening the kiss with his tongue slipping inside her mouth.

“Dean,” she scolds him softly with blushed cheeks and a giggle that surely won’t keep him from doing shit. “There’s people here. Teenagers.”

“So? It’s nothing they wouldn’t do,” Dean remarks mischievously. “And no one’s here that we know. Claire’s caught us like a million times already, and Lisa doesn’t care. C’mon, we never get to do those things in public,” he appeals with a wiggle of his brows.

“Alright,” Y/N surrenders with a small sigh and a smile, tiptoeing up on one foot to press her soft lips back on his. She feels him breath into the kiss, cherishing every second of it. His hands wander from her hips to cup her cheeks, causing her to almost topple over as he forgets that he’s been steadying her. “Whoa, Dean!”

Her giggle interrupts the kiss as she tightens her grip around his neck before he moves his hands back to their place on her hips, offering her support again. She leans her head against his chest, and he rests his chin on her crown.

“Sorry, got carried away there for a moment,” he apologizes with a snicker, pecking the top of her head gently.

“Yeah, that happens with you sometimes,” she teases and buries her head deeper into his shirt. “Your heart’s beating really fast. Are you on something again?”

Dean wants to say it’s love, but that sounds too fucking cheesy.

“Nope, still clean,” he replies instead and doesn’t take offense in her question. “Just nerves, I guess. There’s something I wanna tell you,” he says and licks his lips, swallowing thickly.

Y/N looks up and finds his green eyes, her brow knitting in curiosity. But there’s a perceptive shimmer in her orbs, and Dean knows she can already anticipate what’s coming next. Judging by her shift in weight, he can tell she doesn’t want him to say it out loud.

“Shit, uhm…” She squeezes her eyes shut and fumbles for an excuse. Dean gives her a plethora of time to find a believable one. “I have to go. I promised the girls we’d work out a plot for the finale together tonight, celebrate our last week.”

Dean’s lips quiver but manage to find a smile. “You sure?”

Reluctantly, Y/N still nods and lets out a tense breath. “Yeah.”

It feels like dancing around a big, pink elephant between them. Both of them pretend it’s invisible, although it’s painfully not. It’s even roaring or hooting or whatever the fuck elephants do.

“Alright, I’ll drive you to the motel,” Dean capitulates with a resigned nod.

“No, uh, stay,” she tells him and clumsily hops back to the bleachers to grab her crutches. “I’ll get a cab. You should spend your night with Claire. Figure things out with Lisa.”

“Okay,” Dean caves once more but then grabs hold of her, pulling her to his lips. The kiss is fervent and heated and desperate. So fucking desperate. “One for the road,” he says with a painful smile as he draws back. He doesn’t want to admit that it might be the last one they have shared.

Y/N’s look tells him she feels the finality, too. It’s the epilogue of the best book he’s ever read. The end credits of his favorite movie. The final episode of a show he loved.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly with a hesitant lip bite and a harrowing swallow.

“Don’t be. Have fun, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dean says and sends her one last weak smile before he watches her walk away with an aching heart.

24. Don't Dream It's Over – May 4

Honestly, even my cold, cold heart weeped at the end there. Poor Dean 😢💔 But as you can guess from next week's title, we're not done yet 😉

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus

Everything Dean: @SnowAyumi

#plastic hearts #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester imagine #director!dean winchester #director!dean winchester x actress!reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #jensen ackles #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles characters #dean winchester au #supernatural au #glow au #dean winchester reader insert

[talkfantasytome]

Glasses

A teeny, tiny drabble so that I could participate and do something for @nestaarcheronweek despite my crazy, hectic life. I've always imagined that Nesta wears glasses for work or reading or something, and that it drives Cassian absolutely nuts. I wish I had more time to make this more, maybe some day, but for now, I give you Cassian appreciating Nesta in glasses. 💕

Am I still good to swing by to bring your key back?

Yep! Working from home and have no more meetings today. Come by whenever you want, no need to knock.

Cassian smiled at the words flashing across his screen as he reached the windowed door that revealed the doors to the two apartments in Nesta's converted townhouse. Nesta had already told him twice that he could come by any time after noon today, but he let his nerves get the better of him and he had to check just one last time. Even if he was already on her street.

"How are you already here?" the silky sharp voice of his girlfriend asked, carrying easily down the stairs as he opened the door to her apartment.

Cassian chuckled, closing the door and locking it behind him. "Couldn't get to you fast enough, sweetheart," he called up as he began to climb. It was a steep staircase. And dark. He hated it. Nesta could really hurt herself on it, and that was something he wouldn't be able to handle. Cassian dreaded the day he got a call telling him she'd fallen down these damn stairs.

Reaching the main floor, he set the keys down on the tall table in front of him just as a large, cream furball let out a loud hiss.

"Even after feeding you for a week, you still hate me?" he muttered, bending down to see if Ataraxia would sniff at his fingers. The furry little beast lifted his nose up and sauntered away from Cassian like a little prince. "Your cat is a spoiled brat," he said, walking down the small hall toward where he knew Nesta would be working in her large living room.

"As he should be," she replied.

Cassian walked into the room and suddenly the world felt lighter as he laid his eyes on his girlfriend for the first time in a week. Staring intently at the computer screens in front of her, all he could really see was her delicate frame and the golden brown hair tied back in her typical coronet style.

He took a step toward her, going to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, and then paused in his tracks as Nesta turned in her chair to look at him.

There, resting on top of her perfect nose, was a pair of rounded-square glasses in a dark frame. They weren't exactly hipster glasses - too small for that - but they were a similar shape that sat perfectly in Nesta's face.

Nesta was always the most beautiful woman in the room, always sharp and stunning and obviously intelligent. So Casssian wasn't sure exactly what it was about these glasses, but they took his breath away. Perhaps he was more attracted to librarians than he realized. Or maybe it was just Nesta, looking absolutely stunning in everything, and adding new fantasies about glasses Cassian never thought he'd desire.

"Wh…what are those?" he asked like an idiot, pointing to her face.

Nesta let out a small laugh. "My glasses? I wear them for work. They're just blue-light lenses, they keep me from getting a headache when staring at a screen for a long time."

"They're-"

"A necessary nuisance."

"-phenomenal." Nesta blushed at Cassian's last word, turning back to the computer screen.

Cassian wanted to riot, just as he always did when Nesta looked away from him. It should be illegal, for him not to be able to look upon her face. But especially now. Who knew wen he'd get to see her in glasses again? He needed to find a way to save himself from this withdrawal, and he knew just the thing. "Don't you get a lunch hour?" he asked softly, stepping closer to Nesta and leaning his chin on her shoulder.

"Yes…" she answered slowly, turning her face to look at him.

He grinned. "Great. So why don't you log off but keep those glasses on and join me in the bedroom?"

Before Nesta could answer, Cassian left a kiss on her neck and sauntered to the back of the apartment, smirking as her heard soft footsteps following him.

#nessian #nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #cassian #just fluff #fluff #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

[katlyntheartist]

Knuckle series is out!! Any thoughts? Does it affect your Jojo and Gang au?

Spoilers for the Knuckles series people! Avert your eyes children!

First, let's talk about the things I liked:

- Sonic and Tails were great for as little screen time as they had. And Maddie trying to be patient with Knuckles while also not strangling him was great, haha. As someone who worked at a Daycare, I related to her dealing with kids like Knuckles and Maddie's facial expressions when she was grounding Knuckles were on point. Also THEY HAVE A PLAIN BED FOR TAILS AND A TRUCK BED FOR KNUCKLES AHHHHH!!!!!

-Pachacamac is a Jedi Force ghost? Alright then. I don't know much about this character outside of Sonic X but I thought that he was fine. And Christopher Lloyd does a great job as usual.

-Wade was not terrible. I like how he has some character growth through the series and at the end he isn't a master warrior/fighter. He's still a goofball but now he's thinking things through and using what he has and his current surroundings to his advantage in a fight, and isn't just hiding and waiting for Knuckles to save him. But him breaking out of the cage in episode 4 was a bit ridiculous. What was that cage made of, cardboard? He really should have broken his hand or something.

-I liked the villains but I wish that we got to see them more involved in the story, especially the buyer. Who was menacing for about five minutes and then was crushed to death like, dang 0-0

-NANA WHIPPLE AND KNUCKLES SPINOFF SHOW PLEASE!!

-Knuckles was the best part of the show. He's the strong tough warrior but with a big heart and good intentions, though a bit misguided at times. Idris did a great job, nothing new there.

And now let's get into the things I didn't like:

-The show is %70 Wade bowling story and %30 Knuckles adjusting to earth and his backstory with Pachacamac and his tribe and his connection to the master emerald and everything else that the show should have been about. The Wade sub plot takes up so much time that we don't get to explore Knuckles. I wished that we had gotten to see him learn to appreciate and call Earth his new home instead of him just accepting it at the end. It just felt so rushed.

-Episode four wasn't awful but I didn't care for it. Also you can NOT show us the Flames of Disaster from '06 and not have Silver or Blaze show up. You can't do that >:(

-Knuckles and Maddie didn't get to have a heart to heart conversation which is what I and many others thought that was what the show was building up to. Also he never gets in trouble for running way and we never cut back to seeing Maddie or Sonic and Tails realizing Knuckles is gone, or even Sonic and Tails trying to cover for Knuckles. I get that the CGI was expensive and voice actor and actor schedules might not have worked out for it to happen, but my point still stands.

-Wanda was useless and you could have cut her out and lost nothing. Don't get me wrong, the actress is good but she feels wasted here. Her character is so annoying and serves no purpose other than to be mean to Wade. And why do we have to have the "siblings who hate each other but make up at the end" cliche? I would have liked Wanda more if she was nicer to Wade from the start and if they had a fun sibling bond with each other. Also if she was able to actually use her skills as an FBI agent to at least hold her own against the gang when they attack Nanna Whipple's house. Also the dad needed to be more comedically villainous, he was too generic.

-Like I said the villains here are fine but the Buyer's whole character is to just show up, have a cool robot fight, and die. We don't get to see him be a threat to Knuckles at all, he just appears for the climax and then is offed in a snap. And the two agents were fun but a lot of their dialogue was graining.

-And that leads me to the main problem with the series. The writing. I'm aware that the writers for the main movies didn't work much on this series, except Jeff did do the first episode. Which is why it's the best one. There is no balance between the jokes and the emotional moments. The show is so focused on trying to make you laugh every five minutes that it sacrifices genuine emotional growth for the characters especially for Knuckles. You know, the whole reason for the show existing in the first place. It suffers the same problems that the live action Ton and Jerry movie had, where the main stars weren't allowed to be the main stars of their film. All of the screen time there went to the human characters who weren't interesting or just plain annoying and mean.

And the dialogue for the show teeters back and forth between actually funny/well written and being dangerously close to obnoxious. And kids shows having jokes all the time isn't a problem. Rottmnt and the Lego Movies are both kid properties that fire off a joke every minute but they knew when to cut back and let the emotional moments shine. The jokes in the Knuckles show felt more like they were pandering to four year old's then actually trying to be funny and the emotional moments felt kind of forced.

I don't want to give any of the writers or anyone who worked on this show a hard time. I can see that everyone worked hard and had fun with this. And I had fun too. There were some good moments between Knuckles and Wade and even a few jokes that got me. But the problems I listed above are just to hard for me to ignore. If you liked the Knuckles series then great for you! I'm happy you were able to have a great time! But for me it was just ok.

Not great. But not bad either. 5/10.

Now, about this affecting Jojo and Gang. I think what I'll do is have comic take place a month after the Knuckles series. And use my AU to focus on Knuckles getting accustomed to Earth and learning to call it home. Basically my AU will do what the Knuckles series didn't.

#katlyn talks #knuckles spoilers #knuckles tv show #knuckles series

[atopvisenyashill]

I think the point that a lot of people miss with Arya is that the approval she craves the most is of her mother. People call her pretty, including her father and Jon. But she still doesn't think she is pretty because she doesn't measure up to her mother's expectations. We know it hurts her that unlike her siblings, she doesn't look like Catelyn. Which is funny to me because Catelyn despaired that none of her children looked like Ned, except Arya. So no Catelyn did not hate that Arya didn't have Tully looks (believe me I have seen that take numerous times), rather she wanted her to take care of herself and be presentable.

Yeah like, I would say it’s even a pretty common dynamic in real life, where you have a daughter that doesn’t quite fit in and a mother who does and they talk past each other a lot of the times. It’s not to say that I don’t wish Catelyn had taken a more gentle approach to Arya, or that it’s like, an okay thing that the system they live in forces the toxicity of this situation but I think people really gloss over the fundamental aspect of this (and like,,, most) mother-daughter relationships which is that Arya wants her mother to be proud of her and Catelyn wants Arya to be prepared for adulthood. Neither of them is acting out of a bad place here and neither is motivated by anything hostile. Catelyn just feels, pragmatically, that there are certain things Arya needs to know and understand about the world and the life she’ll be expected to live. While Arya wishes her mother could conceive of a world where Arya can just be whomever she wants without being forced into a specific mold or role.

I kinda scrapped this part of that Cat & Arya meta I wrote, but I had like a whole section wherein like, Catelyn knows that The Rules Of Men allowed her a lot of power - she was presumptive heir, acting lady, and now a lady of a great seat with a husband who adores her in part because of her willfulness and fiery temper. What Catelyn wants for Arya is for Arya to have the tools she needs to succeed as a willful, fiery girl in a World Of Men, so that Arya can find a man who loves her for who she is and find freedom in her home & marriage. But because while Arya and Catelyn may share temperaments, they don’t have a lot of overlap in skills, I think Arya sees more clearly and much sooner than it’s simply ridiculous and unfair that Arya has to have this really specific skill set to be worth anything, and that what she’s “worth” to a man shouldn’t be as important as what she’s worth to herself. But like, how do you even verbalize a concept you’re only slightly aware if you’re Arya? How do you tell your mother that the skills she’s honed for her whole life in the hopes that her life as a woman in a feudal system is happy, are like, ~useless~ and have no moral value, it’s just something Cat is good at vs something Arya is good at?? I mean the whole reason i CUT that section was because i felt like i wasn’t hitting the balance of explaining and validating both WHAT IT IS Catelyn wants for Arya out of the system and also WHY IT IS that Arya chafes so badly.

Ultimately, Arya wants to want what her mother wants for her because that’s her mom, she wants to be like her mom, she wants her mom to be proud of her, and also ultimately, Catelyn wants Arya to be safe, and alive, and thinks to herself that Arya would be good at running a household, and since running a household gave Catelyn power, it’s a sweet wish that Catelyn wants to set Arya up to be someone who is great with the only power Catelyn feels she can give her. But they see the world so differently, because they are both stubborn and willful while being Incredibly different & living very different childhoods, and before Catelyn can hold Arya and assure her that she would have wanted her back no matter what, even if her hair is messy and she’s dressing like a boy, even if she never fits in and has killed people, because Catelyn loves her enough to fight against that system that has benefit Cat all those years……but it’s too late, and Catelyn is gone before she can ever say the words I know she wanted to say, the words that Arya needed to hear.

#like once again HOW DOES THAT NOT HIT FOR YOU #asks #anons #mothers and daughters

[hewwio]

#ive rewatched gonzo yesterday #gonzo hellsing #hellsing #seras victoria #i love the amount of attention paid to Seras #also all of her iconic looks! #ovas are nothing style-wise compared to the gonzo tbh #so i dont understand people hating on it; like it is even good that is doesnt follow the manga frame by frame #sure some moments were really stupid but the first half is so much cooler #idk despite all the silly stuff it feels more mature than the ovas #also i have a feeling that the rest of millenium as they are would seem kinda tasteless in gonzoverse #funny that at the same time millenium is like the only thing that interests me in the ovas ughhh #i wish i could make deep art analysis and stuff but my brain won't work that way #upd as ive re-read it a minute after posting: #maybe ovas are not 'nothing' but they surely arent as stylish #especially if we're talking about soundtrack; ive seen people saying ova has a good one but.. #well i do too like Carl Maria von Weber but they didn't even include the best part of the opera (Jägerchor) duh

[mymp3]

trailer talk

#compendiumnotebook #i probably articulated a lot of my trailer thoughts better to my mutuals and friends i was dming the other day #but the tldr of it is that im kind of disappointed they only seem to be adapting mostly movie and portable stuff #not that i hate hate portable or hate hate the movies #but saying that this is going to be a faithful remake of base 3 and having only portable events and options available + adding movie stuff #feels like a big slap in the face to fes and manga enjoyers. and dont get me started on the hammy lovers. #and also is just straight up incorrect. wish they would say what they're adapting rather than saying its a faithful remake #damn im so sorry yall. especially because if they wanted to do a portable adaptation she should be here. #even if im not her number 1 fan i get how dirty it feels #but tbh i am leaning more towards femc as dlc rather than the answer as dlc now #bc atp it just seems like they take fes for granted and brush it off #bc its not as popular #just feels kind of mean a bit #“manga and fes are there. but portable and movies seem to be popular so we can do more of that!” #minato being able to work a job is something i dont like. he's constantly overworked in every other department of his life. #now hes gotta work too? #it seems like this hero is less chronically ill tired angry and like theyre trying to give him more energy and “wipe away his wrongs”. #iddkkkkkk #im sure I'll warm up to it in game #and find a way to work this into my reading #but for now those are my thoughts #oh! i like his mp3 player saying hi to him. thats precious.

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Everyone's talking about Wish right now.... The only thing I can say about WISH.......let's hope it's like a Frozen 1 type thing. Where the trailers were ABSOLUTE ASS but then the film turned out really good. TT0TT

I mean.....there is a difference between the two. While the west got weird trailers that didn't matter for Frozen (Olaf vs Sven carrot thing), JPN and other countries got trailers that actually showcased the plot and drama in an interesting way.... And Wish.....well...... Wish at least gives us a villain and a part of an argument.....and I can't see that argument leading anywhere.....great tbh. So maybe not the best comparisons but let's hope for the Frozen 1 vibe!

Anyway I'm not liking what I'm seeing so far, but I'm hoping its better than the ass disaster Frozen 2 and Ralph 2 were. ;w;

#silly talks #disney #WISH #frozen #as frozen's first fan and the one that didn't care the trailers were ass......my heart goes out to Wish fans rn kldjsafkljsaf #'silly that's pretty bold of you to consider yourself THE FIRST frozen fan-" i drove that damn bandwagon y'all just jumped on later #no really around 2009-2010 i remember looking at the Snow Queen disney page wikipedia page to see if it finally got taken off of hiatus she #*off the hiatus shelf #i remember the damn day the announced Dinsey would take a crack a the Snow Queen adaptation again #then when they announced Kristen Bell for a character (super estatic cause i wanted to hear her singing even more after watching Veronica m #*after watching veronica mars) #The Snow Queen has been a fav fairy tale of mine since i was a baby so yeah I was excited to say the least TT0TT #and yeah 5 seconds into the movie (the day it released mind you! yes I was there I remember how dead the theater was) i was like 'I love it #I ended the movie and wanted to go back in too i loved it that much #safe to say I was BLOWN AWAY by how much OTHERS loved it esp after everyone was bitching abt it leading up to that film TT0TT #anyway love frozen 1 it's my fav #hate frozen 2 it's hot garbage I never felt more lied to by trailers than this movie holy shit #i'm like 8 rants away from writing a complete dissertation on how Frozen 2 completely misunderstood Frozen 1 in it's entirety #(note: I dont think F1 is perfect nor do I think it's a masterpiece I just happen to love it a lot uwu) #anyway I hope wish has a similar thing (sleeper hit release part....not a shitty sequel part)

[glindyupland]

I just think it’s silly that so many people complain about Villain Amaya as “wasted potential” and that “we were robbed” like-

My pals, post canon fan fiction is right there. The desire to free her husband is right there. Either by touching an evil book while being too eager to remember the obsidian oil, or being possessed by contact (ie what she believes is true loves kiss) when trying to reason with him in the dungeon.

We don’t need a rewrite, we can have a continuation. Both can be true. Amaya is a complex character, she can handle it.

#Wish #Queen Amaya #I assume I'm going to get hate for this but like #I know it's not store bought and you have to still make it yourself but also #I'm kind of just tired of seeing a lot of people sh*tting on Wish because it's not the concept art #And I'm kind of over here like how about we love it recognize it has flaws and THEN try to make something new without bashing the OG? #I just love Amaya and she definitely deserves more #but her good character is so interesting and complex #she still knows how to have fun. She still can be sassy or bite. #Like she's still Magnifico's perfect partner you know? and Magnifico isn't perfect? #A truly pure person wouldn't click with Magnifico the way Amaya does...? #I would rather build on Amaya's character than say she can only be good and boring or a villain? #Amaya is so smart yall. I know you can't see it all just on the movie but like she's read every magic book in Magnifico's library #THOUSANDS OF BOOKS. #And knows basic protection spells #She's a devoted leader. #Like. #Idk #She both loves her husband and recognizes that she has to go against him. #She doesn't /turn/ on him. She addresses his flaws and tells him that it's not okay? #She still jokes with him even though she has to put him in time out. She's complex and strong and wise and kind. #And I just hate seeing so many people so quick to just say 'the concept art was better' when like... the idea might be more appealing to yo #But I hate the level of cynicism and pretentiousness I see of people saying their personal ideas of what Wish should be- #-Is better than the piece of media they claim to care about? #Like their personal vision of Wish based exclusively off the concept art is somehow intellectually superior? #And I'm not saying stop doing your rewrites or AU's or anything! Like there's definitely beautiful creativity happening! #I just hate seeing people so negative and like honestly mean. It hurts my heart to see everyone calling Wish garbage? #It's not great but I really really dont think it's as bad as everyone is saying. Like its no like Oppenheimer but it's a children's movie.. #Like I personally love the Teens and Amaya #And everyone saying they stink makes me sad... Because they're just great characters?

[dirt-str1der]

Thinking nonstop and reflecting on my past and the people i have talked with whom i now hate. Badly

#Listen to my problems #this is a vent post -> #i cannot believe she had the gall to text me out of nowhere and then delete her text like girl now i am thinking of how much i dislike you #and how worthless you are. like ok. at least you knew to go away #like somewhere out there im certain you will be someones favourite person but i wish you were dead #theres always a word i use when talking about my least favourite person and it is worthless #crazy how a person in real life can have 0 redeeming qualities and not just negative rizz but also be pathetic beyond measure #do you ever think of people you talk to because of circumstance and you get kind of close and you have way more contact than you would like #and you end up hating them so much because you were kind of close. like yeah if we met in passing i would not have despised you #but now i know how its like to be your friend and it is the worst experience of my life #like if we really hadnt talked. if we hadnt shared minimum 2 interests that was a gateway to me learning about the rest of you that is #completely terrible. AND liking the things i like and making it bad is like 😟 how can you like this piece of media if you like it shittily #how do you like the same things as me but in a way completely divorced from the thing itself my god you dont even deserve to be gutted #i understand exile as a punishment now. like no way im using up my state’s resources and facilities for you just get out of here

[aviangrian]

thank god chappell roan didn’t release good luck babe in summer 22!

#i unfortunately had a homoerotic female friendship that ended abruptly and tragically #she was my best friend for YEARS like we met when we were 11 #i knew i was queer pretty early on but it’s so painfully obvious in hindsight how badly she was repressing everything #we fell asleep together she liked every guy i liked she was invested in every female situationship i had #like it was so painfully obvious what we were but we were just an undefined weird tension homoerotic pair of besties! #she always wanted to know every detail of my sex life w women refused to hear about the men i was w #she would hold me when we watched movies she wanted to do everything w me and she hated me after we graduated hs! #last conversation was on her birthday haven’t spoken to her once since #this song has sent me into a 3 day spiral session if you can’t tell 😭 #never fully gotten over her but i see her post w her new friends at her school 6 hours away like cool cool okay #you’re going to ignore i ever existed instead of confronting your feelings okay! don’t know why she wants nothing to do w me anymore tho #crazy stuff it’s been a year and a half since we stopped being friends but i think about her a lot and i wonder if she thinks about me #i have 2 playlists about her she still follows me on spotify but she didn’t even wish me a happy birthday #at the end of the day i hope she figures everything out. you’re nothing more than his wife and all that #this song THIS SONG SHE WONT LEAVE MY MIND #probably delete later. we’ll see cause all my friends are sick of hearing me talk about her but i can’t stop she’s been in my mind since #this song dropped so thanks chappell 🥹🥹🫡

[batri-jopa]

In heteronormative narrations a single-female-friend character is most often depicted as a threat for the couple/marriage. Threat for the girl that is. Like: beware, this bitch is single! so "obviously" her main goal is to steal your guy because, you know, she's a desperate selfish erotically-starving bitch...

Well, I can't speak for other single ladies but in the most couples I know - if I were to brake the relationship I'd rather run away with the girl🤷

#I'm aro and ace. but girls are just funnier #I like my male cousins but honestly? every each one of them I would give away for his wife #my cousins' wives are not ''related'' to me and yet they all feel more like family to me than my male cousins ever did #not to mention I secretly wish my best friend could finally break free from the toxic relationship #that she have with her lazy underappreciating partner #maybe then we could meet more often... or even live closer to each other again #I certainly don't hate guys! though if having one on my own - for the most part of the day I would not know what to do with him🤔 #unless he would be enormously talkative. like an average girl😜 #relationship goals #single #aroace #aromantic #asexual #heteronormativity #amatonormativity #relationship #''why would I want your man? I don't know why you want your man'' #EDIT: okey there's also my female-cousin's boyfriend. I love to talk with him #he's quite xenophobic conspiracy theories fan and YET he's intelligent enough to have a fascinating conversation with #but I also like to talk about movies with my best friend's boyfriend. even though I think she should get rid of him #no offence man - our shared interests don't change the fact that just don't deserve her at all👎