lasciella

[knaveofmogadore]

Kfkdks

[bvidzsoo]

Stern, but sweet

✎ Teacher!San ✎

TW: nothing, just San being soft and hansome

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: Helleur, lovelies! As you can see, those pictures are from San's latest YouTube live, which means I was inspired by it (dies). Also, it's the first time San bias wrecked me and I sincerely hope it stays that way, I've already got 3 official wreckers (dies again). Idk what this is, but he gave me cute aggression and at the same time the need to crawl up a wall...how is that possible? Anyways, enjoy, feedback is always welcomed!

so, you had been working at this school for a year now and you absolutely loved your job

the kids are lovely and you happened to grow attached to them quite fast, wanting to ensure they got the adequate education

but when it comes to your colleagues, well, they are quite boring

most of them are well past the age of 40 and they prefer going straight home after work, most of times refusing your invitations for a dinner between co-workers

and it also doesn't help much that you're a lot younger than most, making you feel left out when you hear them conversing about topics that you're either not interested in or just simply don't understand, like: raising children and maintaining a family at home

but when one of the homeroom teacher moves away and the school is in a frenzy to find someone fit for the job, a man around your age seems to confidently accept the challenge

Choi San, is his name

and my lord, when I tell you he's absolutely ravishing with his sharp eyes and soft looking skin

he looks like someone who would discipline you at the slightest misbehavior, and you don't know how to feel about it at first

but then he smiles and those cute dimples in his cheeks make you absolutely swoon over him, his aura so warm and lovely

you've come to know that Choi San is a man with a colorful personality

in his own class, he's very authoritative and stern, he doesn't allow his students to slack, and he doesn't accept any excuses as to why they haven't done their math homework

but San is an amazing teacher, and despite his subject being math, which many students tend to hate, those who he teaches just simply can't wait for his class to come

despite being stern and quite serious, he always cracks harmless jokes while explaining the hardest equations and theories, lightening the mood, and also helping the students focus

they love San in and outside of the classroom

whenever they have a problem, they know they can go to him as he will listen, giving them smart advice instead of rolling his eyes at them and telling them to get lost (like their last homeroom teacher had done so many times)

when there's a conflict, he first listens to both sides and then comes up with a solution (or punishment) that is fair and doesn't favor a student (like their previous homeroom teacher had done quite often)

but San, with his positive and warm energy, seems to also light up your office, the grumpy older teachers laughing a bit more often, a lot more open-minded with San here now

and well, you're a simple woman and you can't really help yourself when you start swooning over him (of course, when he's not watching you or paying attention to you) about just how perfect, and dreamy, he actually is

San was the one to approach you, and you quite liked that as he talked to you freely as if you had known each other for ages

you feel your most authentic self around him, never having to worry that he'll judge you or make fun of you behind your back (like you have caught a few of your fellow co-workers doing so before)

and seriously, San is just so good with children, that you can't help yourself as you develop a crush on him rapidly

and you hope he doesn't notice the way you gaze at him longingly when he's explaining something thoroughly to his students, or pats them on the head as encouragement, or even brings them candy so he can give it as a reward when they excel on their tests

and you certainly hope he doesn't see the way you stare at him for minutes at a time when you're both in your office, your cubicles next to each other, him busy typing on his computer and you busy...well staring at San

and you definitely do not absolutely die when one Friday he asks if you're doing anything later that night, eager to go to the new Amusement Park, saying he was thinking of inviting a few other colleagues as well since he's on good terms with them

you hate Amusement Parks, but if San loves them, well...you might grow to dislike them a little less

and so you definitely do not dress up all cute and spend two hours on your makeup and hair just because San invited you (and your colleagues, but you tend to ignore that part) out

what the two of you absolutely do not expect is for your colleagues to bail on you last minute, all of them saying the same excuse, "something came up, but we should go next time"

and perhaps you die a little on the inside, because you suddenly realize just how of an awkward person the both of you are, blushing and quickly avoiding eye contact when you catch the other one already looking

you don't want to tell San that you're afraid of heights and anything that goes with high speed when he points excitedly at the large roller-coaster, telling you how he's been waiting all day to go on it

you say nothing, you suck it up, because you're an adult and this is your work crush, and perhaps because the way San has been paying attention to you all evening, keeping people away from your body in the crowd as you moved around, or how without touching you, would hold his arm out behind your back when someone walked too close, made you feel rather comfortable in his presence

so, you brace yourself for the ride and certainly don't tremble as San helps you inside the cabin, sitting down next to you

once you're tied up and secured inside of it, is when you start praying to all Gods to give you strength so that you don't lose your mind during the ride

what you don't expect is San noticing how nervous and pale you are, grabbing your hand and interlacing your fingers with his as the ride takes off, making you clutch onto his hand for dear life

and the ride is so much fun that you're surprised how much you're enjoying it, but perhaps it's also because San keeps making you laugh and keeps talking to you, holding onto you

what you don't expect, once again, is him not letting go of your hand once you get off the ride, and instead he pulls you towards a photobooth, saying he wants to commemorate tonight's 'date'

oh, and you certainly don't faint when San decides to press a kiss against your cheek as the camera goes off for the last photo

seems like your work crush was crushing back on you, huh?

(seems like all of your coworkers knew about it and cancelled last minute on purpose as they've been secretly shipping the two of you and making bets about when you'd finally start dating)

Masterlist

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[flemingsfreckles]

Physio’s Daughter pt 3

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Read part 1, and part 2

Warnings: some arguing, some cursing

WC: 3.2k

A/N: hi, I think this is going to have 1 more part, maybe 2 if I end up with enough writing for it.

“Am I really that bad of a flirt that you thought all those conversations we had were strictly professional?”

“What?” Sounding like a stuck record you repeat yourself. You couldn’t believe the sentence you had just heard come from Jessie’s mouth.

“Do your other coworkers offer you their jacket? And stay late to talk with you?” She’s staring at you like you’re an idiot, like you should have known she had a crush on you. She’s acting as if she was walking around with a sign with it spelled out for you and you were in the wrong for not knowing.

You’re skeptical, there was no way she was actually interested in you. Your Mom was right, you didn’t have a career yet, you were so much younger than her, you were her physio, she was a professional athlete with her whole life sorted out. Maybe this was a test, maybe your Mom had sent her in here to see what you would do. Maybe she was joking with you, maybe she knew you had a crush and she was teasing you. Seeing if she could make a fool of you. You’re so lost in your own thoughts you lose track of time.

“I’m going to go. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, pretend I didn’t.” Jessie’s soft voice breaks your mental spiral. She pushes her chair back starting to stand up.

“No, wait.” You put out a hand to stop her. “Sorry, I just, it's a lot to process.” You’re not sure what to say next, she sits back down and you both sit there looking at each other.

“Why didn’t you just say something before?” The question comes out of your mouth as nearly a whisper.

“Because like you, I've also been told it’s unprofessional to date a teammate, let alone a staff member, my whole life.” She adds a small sigh, her breath moving some of the hairs that had fallen in front of her face out of the way. “Plus I couldn’t tell if you were feeling the same. You spent a lot of time with me but I couldn’t tell if you were just doing your job or if you were too nervous to tell me to shut my mouth and leave you alone.”

“I was, I do feel the same, it’s just, it’s complicated.” You sigh, you know you’re about to open yourself to the complexity of having mutual feelings, when you both know you shouldn’t. “It’s just, this is my job and you’re Jessie Fleming.” Your hands gesture up and down her body. You notice a small blush come across her face. “Plus, like you I figured this is your job, you were forced to spend time with me, how was I supposed to know it was by choice? I’m just a student trainer, so I thought why would you have any interest in me when you can have anyone.”

“Because, in the best way possible, you treat me like I’m not Jessie Fleming.” She puts air quotes up when she says her own name. “You just treat me like a regular person. You ask about my family, you ask about my aspirations, you ask about my favorite places to visit and where I want to go. Most people ask me about soccer and sure it’s nice but what’s even nicer is not feeling like I have to be a professional athlete all the time for someone to be interested in me.”

Not sure what to say, you stand up to throw out your coffee cup that you had essentially chugged in the past few minutes using sips of the drink to calm your nerves. Instead of returning to your seat you take a place leaning against the wall, off to the side of Jessie, looking down at her as she remains in her seat. You were too restless to sit back down.

You let out a sigh as you let your back hit the wall. Conflicted between the two sides of the situation. You could tell her you can’t see her, tell her it’s unprofessional, inappropriate. Or you could tell her you want to try this. You let your head fall back gently against the wall, you shut your eyes trying to get a clear thought through your head. Your hands are balled into tight fists at your side, both out of nerves and frustration, unsure of what to do.

When you lower your head back down and open your eyes you come face to face with Jessie. While your brain was screaming between your choices she had abandoned her chair to stand in front of you. You jump a bit, startled by her presence.

“Hi.” Her smile is infectious, she says hello as if she’s just greeting you, as if she hadn’t just confessed to having feelings for you.

“Hi.” It’s a breathless response to her but you’re at a loss for any other words. You do exactly what you know you shouldn’t, you subtly ask her to kiss you, breaking your eye contact to look down at her lips, your own tongue coming out to wet your lips. By the time you go to make eye contact with her again she’s already moving in toward you.

Her lips are on yours, your brain is short circuiting, her body is gently pressed to yours, your back against the wall of your office. The kiss was gentle, her lips softly melting into yours, it couldn't have been more perfect. You could taste her coffee on her lips, as she could likely taste yours. She smelled sweet, her hair, not pulled back like usual, softly brushed against your cheek as if bounced from her forward movement. Your hands found themselves placed on her hips where you could feel her shirt was tucked into her joggers. You couldn’t tell if the kiss lasted 2 seconds or 20 minutes, your concept of time completely thrown by her actions.

“Hey we need you upstairs-” the door opens, the voice of your Mom coming through as she comes to grab you for an impromptu meeting. She was expecting to see you at your desk finishing paperwork, or just on your phone. Not expecting to see the team captain pinning her daughter to the wall of the office.

Jessie pulls away out of surprise, turning toward the door, taking a couple of steps back from you so your bodies are no longer up against each other. You do the same, only you’re against the wall and unable to back up from her, you stumble slightly as you try to move, cursing yourself for not previously locking the door. If she hadn’t already seen the two of you, from the way you scattered from each other it was obvious what you both had previously been doing.

“Are you kidding me?” Your Mom shouts. She’s only looking at you, not acknowledging Jessie’s presence. You knew she wasn’t going to yell at Jessie, but you knew you were about to wish you had called in sick today.

“I’m going to go.” Jessie mutters under her breath before awkwardly rushing to grab her coffee off your desk and passing around your Mom to leave, she doesn’t look back as she turns the corner.

You can’t bring yourself to look anywhere but your feet. You can feel the anger radiating off of your Mom.

“Sit down.” She instructs you, she’s talking through her teeth, pointing at your desk chair. You obey, keeping your head pointed at the floor. She stands across from you. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You don’t know what to say or what to do besides sit unresponsive to her. Blinking rapidly you try to comprehend that Jessie had just kissed you, and also that your Mom had walked in seeing her kissing you.

“Fucking look at me when I’m talking to you.” Slowly lifting your eyes, your Mom is standing glaring, arms crossed, face red. “What the fuck are you doing? I just told you, you can’t be messing with her and you said there was nothing going on! Now I walk into her practically defiling you against the wall? So what, did you fucking lie to me before? You know how I feel about lying.”

“I didn’t lie before.” Lying was the one thing your Mom hated the most, you learned that as a kid. You didn’t lie to her, you didn’t lie to anyone, you were often honest to a fault. In this case it was the truth, or at least your truth, before it hadn’t crossed a completely unprofessional line, when your Mom had questioned you in the car, nothing had been going on. Now it had, you had kissed, that crossed the line into unprofessional.

“It’s one thing to have a little crush, you cannot be having sex in your work office.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” You couldn’t believe you had to be having this conversation with your Mom, you had hardly been able to wrap your brain around the fact that Jessie had feelings for you and that she had just kissed you. “It was just a kiss.”

“She had you against the wall. So help me god, if you fuck up this opportunity, I will be so pissed.” Her hands come down hard on your desk. You know that if Jessie or any other player was in the training room they’re hearing every word that she was screaming at you. “I’ve worked my ass off to get to where I am, and I was able to get you this job, if you mess up, it’ll come back on me!”

“I’m not going to fuck up this opportunity. You are so fixated on Jessie and I that you ignore all the good work I do! You don’t acknowledge that I’ve been helpful, that I was able to get Jessie back to playing, I help out the team, but you’re so fucking focused on my personal life you don’t see it! Mark sees it! He likes my work, he acknowledges me. He actually appreciates me, you don’t!” Now you’re yelling back, adding to your list of unprofessional actions today. You know you shouldn’t be yelling at her, she was looking out for you.

“I see the work you do but I’m not going to congratulate you when you clean up, that’s your job. But yes I’m focused on your inappropriate work relationship. I don’t want to see you ruin your life because you want to kiss a pretty girl.”

“She’s not going to ruin my life Mom.”

“She can. She’s the captain of this team. You realize that's a huge deal right? Do you know what it’ll look like if it came out that she was sleeping with the student on the training staff? That’ll ruin your future and tarnish her reputation.”

“I’m a student but I’m an adult mom, it’s not like I’m a 17 year old student. I’m an adult! I can make my own decisions.”

“Yes you’re an adult but this is work! You don’t get to make any choice you want, there are rules and paperwork and protocols you have to go through to do what you’re doing. It’s not as easy as the two of you deciding to make out. There are rules to protect you and to protect her, you two need to respect that. I have half a brain to drag her back in here and give her the same talk, but I won’t. You’re lucky I’m not up in Mark's office telling him to reconsider the offer you’ll be getting to take you to Paris with the team. You cannot be seeing her while you work on this team.”

“Okay.” Agreeing to your Mom’s statement but also not wanting to. You didn’t want to have to ignore Jessie again. You wanted to sit by her, talk with her, share smiles across the room, and you definitely were interested in kissing her more. But you also knew she was right, it was unprofessional, at least while you were still working for the team as a temporary student, regardless of age. There were policies, it was only right that you, and Jessie both follow them and odds are the Captain of the team isn’t about to go marching into the HR office to declare that she just made out with you in your office.

“Just so you know, I didn’t lie before. I promise, that was the first time.” Hoping it’ll ease your Mom’s anger a bit you try and explain the situation.

“Now, we’re both going to be late, thanks for that. We have a quick meeting upstairs.” She ignores your statement, and turns to leave. You follow her out of the room, thankful to see no one was in the training room and hopefully no one else had heard your screaming match.

When you walk into the conference room it’s both a mix of team and staff. You can feel Jessie’s eyes on you and your Mom as you both walk in. Even though no one knew what had just happened in your office, you couldn’t help but feel like somehow everyone knew. You could feel your cheeks turning red, taking a quick glance in Jessie’s direction she gives you a sympathetic smile.

You’re not even sure what the meeting was all about, talks of Paris, talks of getting enough sleep, talks of staying in communication with each other, all go in one ear out the other. It’s like a fog has covered your head, you’re unable to grasp anything being said by the coaching staff, by the training staff, by the players. After a couple of hours the meeting is dismissed. Everyone begins to clear out of the room. You stay sitting, drawing circles onto your notepad, not a single note from the meeting written down. A couple of the players say goodbye to you on their way out of the room, you give them a quick acknowledgment and well wishes, Jessie leaves without saying anything to you.

Mark makes his way over to you, placing his hand on the top of your pen, stopping your mindless scribbling.

“Do you have a minute?”

“Yeah, I’ve got to help finish packing up but yes, I have a second.”

“I want you to come with the team to Paris. Is that something you’d be interested in? I understand it’s a large commitment, about two months of your time.”

“That would be incredible, I’d love the opportunity.” You’d get to travel, just like Jessie had said.

“That’s great, there’s some paperwork that’ll come with that, I’ll have the administration send it over for you to look at and sign. Since youlll be staying with us, I’d like you to continue your check-ins with Fleming. Keeping her up to date with the girls statuses as they have a few weeks away from camp. Is that something you can do?”

It takes everything in you to not immediately say yes, of course you wanted the excuse to talk to the girl but you shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t be given the chance to have private conversations with her anymore.

“I can, I think it would maybe be beneficial to have someone more senior on the team involved though, just since I’ve never seen how things operate not in the camp setting.” Making the mature choice, you try to incorporate someone else into your chats to make them professional.

“That’s fine with me, I’ll check with some of the team and see who can help you out getting comfortable with that. We really appreciated your help at this camp, it was nice having you, a lot of the girls were appreciative of you too.”

“Thank you, Mark. I learned a lot. I’m looking forward to Paris.” You stand up and shake his hand before he heads out of the room. You grab your note pad tearing off the top page with scribbling across it and you toss it into the trash as you walk out of the conference room.

“Hey.” You hear and feel her as Jessie grabs your wrist. She had been waiting against the wall outside the door. Looking around nervously at who might see you two you shake your wrist from her grip.

She doesn’t even begin to talk before you start, “Jessie we can’t, what happened in my office cannot happen again.” You try and keep your voice low, not wanting to alert anyone around you.

“I know. I crossed a line, it won’t happen again. I’m sorry. I’m also really sorry your Mom saw and I’m really sorry for whatever happened after I walked out.”

“Just a lot of yelling.” You kick your left shoe with your right, feeling uncomfortable at the mix of tension and guilt sitting in the air between the two of you. “She was mad, especially after I told you what she had told me already.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, it’s on me. I’m the older person here, I’ve been around this team longer, I should know better. I can tell your Mom that, if that’ll help. I can tell her it was all me.”

“I’d maybe avoid her, if you can help it. She thinks you were trying to ‘defile’ me against the office wall. And naturally she isn’t too happy about walking in on that.” A small laugh escapes as you quote your Mom’s words back to Jessie. Now that the initial fear of your Mom’s wrath is gone you found slight humor in the situation.

“Oh no.” Jessie’s hand comes to cover her mouth and the blush on her cheeks spreads.

“Yeah. At least you’ll be able to avoid her for a couple weeks until preparation for Paris starts.” Trying to make light of the situation. You can see Jessie is still a little uneasy about it.

“I guess.”

A silence falls between the two of you. Both standing in the hallway looking at each other. Knowing you both wanted each other but also both knowing you couldn’t have each other.

“I should go, have some packing up to do.” You point in the direction of the stairs that lead to the training room.

“Okay, so are we friends?” She asks you. The question is so innocent but it tugs at your heartstrings. You want to be able to tell her you’re friends but you can’t.

“I mean, maybe just coworkers for now? We can figure out if friendship is an option later. Once this all settles.”

“Right, that’s smart. So I’ll see you at the next camp then?” You can tell she looks a bit upset at your answer, but she accepts it.

“See you then Jessie.” You turn from her, it felt sad leaving her, knowing it would be weeks before you saw her in person again.

“Bye.” You hear her shout after you as you turn to go down the staircase. Hearing her call after you makes a smile break across your face. You knew you’d see her soon but you knew it wouldn’t feel nearly soon enough.

[samberrybay]

This part in 32 chp always felt kind of odd to me and this is the reason why:

The coward wolf boy, Lock. Until Choi Han found him, Lock had been hiding as the chief had told him. The Lock at that point is very much a coward, a weakling, and kind of slow. In simple terms, Lock easily took the position of the character that readers found to be extremely frustrating.

This has bothered me since I first read the novel, and to this day, even after several rereads, it still haunts me.

Cale simply isn't the type of a person to actually call a kid, no matter how they behave, to be "frustrating".

(When the text said "readers" it's damn well obvious of Cale being the one to think so.)

Pondering for some time I can roughly guess why the wording was so unexpected for his character.

At the time of the assassination/kindaping in the village, Lock was only thirteen years old. He also hasn't had his first berserk transformation yet. Therefore it is not surprising that Lock's uncle hid him and told not to go out, saying that everything was fine and he should continue to hide.

Now let's look at the situation realistically.

Lock (in tcf) jumps out of his hiding to protect his younger siblings. The adrenaline and inner Blue Wolf Tribe's instincts to protect turned on his berserk transportation one year beforehand, however if not Rosalyn and Choi Han, who came earlier than in the actual novel, i don't think it would help much.

Lock would possibly be able to kill a few people or at least seriously injure them, but CMON. They killed an ENTIRE village full of berserk Blue Wolf's and with almost-Wolf King (Lock's uncle). Do you really believe that a thirteen years old boy jumping into his first berserk transformation would be able to fight properly against strong organization that had holy water or some sort of holy artefact on their hands?

Again, if not for Choi Han's and Rosalyn's arrival... it would have definitely ended pretty bad.

In TBOAH Lock for some reason didn't jump out. Different circumstances, wrong wroted part in the novel, idk, but the fact is stated: Lock stayed hidden. He also most likely survived only because of Choi Han's help. Just with much worse scenario where he was left alone from the whole village.

And it wasn't Lock's fault yet again. He was a child. No matter if a Beastman one or not, the boy was just an innocent, naive and weak child.

So why would Cale, Kim Rok Soo at the time, find him frustrating? Extremely so even!

The answer is much easier if you think about it.

Because it wasn't Kim Rok Soo blaming a kid for being weak and cowardly in a fearful situation, it was a man who saw his own past that he hated so much.

A coward, a weakling and kind of slow.

For Rok Soo, who blamed himself for half of his life for the deaths of team one members, Lock was like a salt for still open, but ignored wounds.

KRS greatly disliked and maybe even envied Lock for a bit. The boy got a new family, he got friends and some sort of guidance from them even after facing so much despair.

While he was all alone, trying to understand what to do on his own.

It sure is irritating for Rok Soo.

Yet Team Leader Kim Rok Soo was probably unable to fully hate Lock for his weakness, because while the latter was still a kid, the same forgiveness can't be used on him. At least in his own head.

So with conflicting feelings Cale settled on "Extremely frustrating" description.

[henrycangelbaby]

In which: “It's not that the amount of love I had changed, but I feel so proud about it now, like that I want to shout from the rooftops and tell everyone of my loved ones how much I love my wife, MY wife, ya know?”

Or

An interview gives unique insight into Pedro Pascal and his vast amount of love for his wife

I make my way through meeting the cast of HBO's unexpected hit “The Last Of Us” rather easily.

Bella Ramsey lives in a far nicer apartment in London than anything I would have been able to afford at the same age. Despite their fame and talent, they remain settled and down to earth, dressed in an outfit a little too cool for me to understand and eager to show me around their lovely apartment that is decorated in a way that I quite liked but I'm sure my baby boomer father would find offensive. I even end up meeting Ramsey's girlfriend, a fellow actor (who I admittedly had never heard of) who is equally as young and pretty as Ramsey is. They are both lovely and down to earth, a sentiment I don't often find relatable working with celebrities.

Kaitlin Denver is in her late 20s and still looks like she could be in high school. She lives in a shared house with her sister, whom she also shares a music career with. Despite the controversy surrounding her character in the show, she seems to remain completely unfazed by the backlash and threats that surround Abby Anderson. Denver merley shrugs when I ask her how she deals with it, leaving me to assume her vices when it comes to dealing with unprecedented hate.

I meet other stars of the show too. Gabriel Luna has all the southern charm of Tommy Miller and more, making me question whether he really does any acting when playing the sweeter, younger Texan brother. Isabela Merced is very beautiful in person and is also far shorter than I had imagined. What she lacks in height she makes up for in personality and charm.

Of course, when you think of the stars of The Last Of Us, there is probably someone else that comes to mind. Securing an interview with Pedro Pascal is probably one of the harder things I have had to do in recent years. It's not that Pacal is hard to come by; in fact, in recent years we haven't been able to escape him. I originally doubted that I would even be able to secure an interview with the internet's "daddy." Pascal has had a busy few years, and this one is no different. With multiple projects coming out this year, including the new season of The Last Of Us and his highly anticipated entry into the MCU as the iconic Richard Reed, it seems that everyone wants a piece of him. While all the other actors on this list do have notable careers outside of the show, the point of this interview series was to be able to interview the main cast members of the show in anticipation for the new season; however, I found that same sentiment hard to carry across when interviewing Pascal. I don't want to spoil the show for anyone, but I will just say that he won't be back next season. Whether that's due to internal conflicts or simply being too booked, we’ll never know.

I was rather ecstatic to receive a phone call from someone on his team letting me know the time and date for our interview. Like normal, I'm given an NDA to sign before receiving any personal information, such as his address (which I did require for the purpose of the interview). But everything else seems to go off without a hitch. 

I was admittedly nervous to meet him. In the best way possible, his reputation definitely proceeds him. Pascal is only ever described as kind, loving, funny, and any other positive synonyms for a massive sweetheart that you can think of. I personally have been a big fan of his work since he played forever thirsted over narcos agent Javier Paner. I know they say you shouldn't meet your idols (and trust me, I've had my fair share of heartbreaking realizations that someone I once admired is actually a piece of shit), but I had high hopes for meeting Pedro. And I am happy to report that it did not disappoint. 

I arrived at his home in Los Angeles ten minutes earlier than I should have. Not that I'm kept waiting, as before I can get a second knock in on the door, a young woman flings it open, smiling at me tightly. She quickly lets me in, introducing herself as Pascal's assistant, offering me tea or coffee, and ushering me to sit down on the comfy-looking couch while I wait for her boss to arrive (which she insists should not be too long). I take a moment to look around the room while I'm waiting. The room is sweet and welcoming, much like the rest of the home, which feels very well... homely (like stepping into your best friend's house and chatting with their parents at the dinner table). It's a hard feeling to describe, such a sense of nostalgia from a place that I had never been in before. It feels fitting though that a man so beloved as Pedro Pascal should have a home that feels so nice. I snoop to get a closer look at the photos that hang up on the walls and sit on cabinets. Most of them seem normal. There are a few faces I recognize within the photos; Oscar Iscac can be spotted alongside a younger-looking Pascal in one of the photos on the wall. I spot John Favro amongst a few people in a photo that looks to have been taken on the set of The Mandelorian, but apart from that, the photos seem normal. They depict family and friends in various places over various years; it appears that Pascal cherishes his relationships with loved ones above all else. 

I'm stopped in my snooping by another face in one of the photos, a face I recognize instantly, a face that has been all over the internet and tabloids for some time now. Pedro's wife. The photo is the first one in which she features prominently, sitting alongside what I can only assume to be one of her husband's sisters. It's a sweet photo, one that I can imagine Pedro was on the other side of, grinning wildly while taking. Y/N Pascal is an elusive figure that the media and her husband's fans have been trying to know better for a few years now. She is what is best described as a "normie," that is to say that she is just like you and me; that is perhaps what makes her so interesting to fans. She doesn't appear to have any ties to the industry; she isn't some big-wig producer's daughter; in fact, despite their insistence, fans have been unable to find anything on her. She has no public social media accounts, no company profiles online, and no one she went to high school with has come forward with a tik tok horror story (yet!). The couple are shrouded in mystery; no one seems to know how they met, where Y/N is from, or even the highly shrouded question of her age. She certainly appears younger than Pascal by a good few years, and I'm sure that I could find thousands of posts online speculating (or being downright nasty) about how young she is. But out of respect for the happy couple, I leave it a mystery. 

The sharp heels of the sensible shoes that Pascal's assistant is wearing suddenly come back into earshot. She warns me to be ready with my stuff as “they” will be home soon. I don't think twice about her words before hauling ass back to the couch and trying to pull myself together. It's not long before I hear the front door open. Amy (Pascal's assistant that I had only just remembered the name of) runs to the door. I walk slower behind awkwardly, not wanting to intrude (despite the fact that I had spent the last ten minutes snooping around what was essentially a stranger's house). I peek round the corner to be greeted with Pascal's broad back. He is facing away from me, talking to his assistant lowly. His assistant finishes speaking and moves past me, wishing me luck in passing. Pascal doesn't turn around to greet me yet; in fact, he drops down onto one knee to reveal to my utmost shock his wife. Neither of them pay me any mind as he begins untying her shoes for her, ever the gentleman everyone believes he is. 

It's not a second later that the man of the hour turns around to greet me. He smiles widely at me, and I find myself blushing slightly at his unwavering eye contact as he introduces himself. He only introduces himself by his first name, not something I find often when meeting famous people; they are often eager to give me the name that everyone knows and loves them by. It seems a bit of a strange phenomenon in Hollywood that has missed Pascal. His wife then steps forward to introduce herself. I hate to be the bearer of bad news to the millions of jealous fans, but Y/N Pascal is strikingly beautiful; even as I meet her in her own home with no makeup, she glows ethereally with a striking smile that looks like it belongs on the cover of a magazine. In that moment meeting her I quickly see why Pascal holds her in such admiration.

Much to my disappointment, that is the first and last time I see her during the interview. Pedro ushers her away somewhere out of sight with a protective arm around her shoulder. I can hear him mutter to her lowly, promising to be quick. Before kissing her goodbye with an "I love you." It makes my heart ache with a longing. Much like the rest of the internet, I wish I had a man like Pedro Pascal. We chat for a while, while exploring his house, he speaks passionately about his career, which he clearly loves. He has a flame behind his eyes as he speaks about his long-winded love for the cinema. He tells me stories of his famous friends that are featured on his walls. We laugh together, and he very much reminds me of an old friend. Even though I should be interviewing him, I let him talk, rambling on about things that I didn't find important enough to put in this interview, but they certainly put a smile on my face. 

The house is beautiful; it's decorated nicely and feels authentic and homely. It's not massive, not overly obnoxious in the way many celebrity houses are; it's still big, the kind of size that screams loving family. I don't mean to make assumptions, but it almost feels like it's been brought with the idea of a growing family in mind. I complement the house easily. Pedro smiles at me. For the first time in the interview, he refers to his wife. He tells me that he hadn't cared where they lived; “anywhere is home when you are with someone that you love,” but insists that she had loved the house the moment they first saw it. "She has better taste than me,” he tells me with a loving glint in his eye. "She did a good job.” I compliment, he nods and smiles, "always thought I was biased 'cause I’m married to her, but glad to know it's not just me." I feel awfully privileged to get an insight into Pedro's fondness of his wife. It's not often that he speaks about her publicly; she gets mentioned in passing during interviews and is often spotted at events with him, safely away from the cameras, but it's clear to the general public that his marriage is a part of his life that he wishes to keep away from public scrutiny. 

Its towards the end of the interview that I do ask him about his marriage. We walk past a wedding photo that depicts him and his lovely bride squashed together on one seat, smiling widely at the camera. He doesn't say anything when he notices me peering at the photo. I ask him carefully if he thinks being a married man has changed him. He ponders for a second. "Probably,” he answers me carefully. It's not the response I had expected from him, so I quickly encourage him to go on. "I suppose it has in a way,” he continues. “It's not that the amount of love I had changed, but I feel so proud about it now, like that I want to shout from the rooftops and tell everyone of my loved ones how much I love my wife, MY wife, ya know?” I smile and nod at his explanation. I understand what he is saying—such a sweet sentiment that it makes my heart warm. 

We don't speak for much longer after that; he briefly mentions a few upcoming projects, which he seems excited for. I ask him what he has planned next, after his next few big projects are done. He hesitates for a second. “Truthfully,” he says, “I plan on taking a step away for a bit.” I ask if he wants to settle down more. “Yeah, that's part of it; I mean, I’m not getting any younger.” He tells me, “Things are changing soon, and I just want to be settled with my family.” He finishes. I wonder for a moment what he is referring to when he mentions these soon changes; I don't ponder on it too long; much like a crazed fan, I have a few theories floating around in my head. 

We wrap up the interview from there; he is as polite and gracious as he has been the entire time, shaking my hand and thanking me for my time. I try to thank him for the interview and for letting me into his house, but he simply shakes his head at me, insisting it was his pleasure. He disappears soon after that, saying he has something to attend to (and speed walking in the direction that his wife disappeared to). I'm left to see myself out; I don’t snoop too much after I’m left alone. I make my way back to the front of the house, peering around as I go. I peek inside one room that appears to be in the middle of some kind of renovation or do-over. There are multiple pieces of yet-to-be put together furniture on the ground as the walls look to be in the middle of being painted a pastel purple color. 

I’m about to leave when something catches my eye—on the table by the front door, which has various bits and bobs scattered over it, but none of these catch my eye. I step closer to get a clearer view of what appears to be a small black and white photo. I quickly realize what it is: tucked beneath the wallet I had seen Pedro place down before our interview began is an ultrasound. I smile knowingly as my theory is proven correct; the Pascal family is about to be adding another member. 

Congratulations to Pedro as his wife on the upcoming addition to their family.

[grimrester]

i love farcille but i have Thoughts

i don't think marcille is even close to accepting any romantic feelings towards OR from falin by the end of the manga, or even in the supplemental comics set after the manga.

marcille has huge issues and misconceptions around age. part of her still sees falin as the young girl she met in school. when she hears about falin and laios's parents' age, she immediately calls them "those kids." she's objectively wrong here, but her perception of time and maturity is totally warped. she uses her own numerical age as a benchmark for maturity - with her own current age representing "totally 100% mature." anyone younger than her is "a kid." this is completely flawed thinking in two ways. firstly, half-elves age differently and inconsistently, so her numerical benchmarks don't make sense for literally any other race. secondly, marcille is NOT MATURE.

she spends half the manga whining about what she has to eat to survive. she repeatedly endangers her teammates to selfishly prove her worth. she clings to doing things by the book to the detriment of her own growth and her relationships with other people. she pouts when people don't want to do things her way. hell, just in day-to-day personal interactions, falin is more mature than marcille by a long shot. and yet she sees herself as more "adult" than falin.

falin, who understood early on that her parents did their best to protect her with the resources they had, even if they didn't always communicate it well. falin, who rejects shuro's second attempt at a proposal with such nuance, kindness, and grace that he smiles afterwards. falin, who withstood bullying from her peers at school and from adults in her village for years and came out of it with kindness that can exorcize zombies with a hug.

in order to accept any feelings she has for falin or vice versa, marcille would first have to recognize that falin is not a child compared to her. and there are times she comes close. falin, in her eyes, is almost superhumanly kind to the point of near worship. but she still sees falin as silly or childish because falin doesn't make the same practical choices that marcille would. ironically, those choices are typically driven by falin's kindness or love of all things living. and falin is too conflict-avoidant to tell marcille directly that she's wrong.

i don't think that a romance is impossible between them, though. i think it'd just take either emotional growth on marcille's part, or possibly even growth on falin's. while falin canonically doesn't push back on marcille's assumptions at all, she's also not so passive that she couldn't ever push back. we see pretty early on in the story that she's willing to hurt others if it means protecting her friends, she'd just prefer not to. i could see a situation arising where marcille makes selfish or damaging choices and falin has to put her in her place about it, and marcille finally comes to a revelation about her own or falin's maturity.

from there i think would essentially be an emotional floodgate. the groundwork for her having feelings is there, as they're obviously very affectionate with each other, but the revelation "falin is not an ickle babby i have to look out for" would have her recontextualizing a lot of their interactions. marcille would have to spend a while wrestling with suddenly feeling "wrong" about sharing a bed with falin, something she used to do easily. when falin gets cuddly, she'd struggle with the feeling of "this used to seem platonic to me but now it doesn't."

actually, it'd probably be a lot like realizing you're a lesbian and that your relationship with a friend was kind of weirdly homoerotic, and not knowing if that was "okay" or not.

[sunofpandora]

Authors note:

AYEEEE CHAPTER TWO

Wow! I was not expecting all the kind comments and the taglist requests from chapter 1. I’m genuinely in shock, still. The comments and reposts got me teary eyed. 

                                                                   V I R A G O            

Word count: 6k       

Chapter 2

The son sun made of stone  

words.

𝓭𝓮𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓵𝓼/𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼/𝓼𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼/

‘Y/n was made of fire. Oh, a goddess girl with lips of lightning and a caged Phoenix under her skin. Neteyam is just the ashes and remains of the heavens she crushed under her heel.’

General Warnings: na’vi reader/ reader is a war orphan/ as always, spider, the reader, and Lo’ak are a trio/ Lo’ak and Reader being platonic soulmates?/ Spider and Reader being trauma twins/ Neteyam being lovesic/ Neteyam being nervous and shy around reader/ Neytiri being mother/ Jake being the husband i wish i had/ Tuk being a little sister and looking up to y/n/ Mentions of grace’s school./ reader fell first but Neteyam fell way harder/ sun x moon relationship 

Chapter 2 warnings: jealous neteyam/ mentions or anxiousness/ mentions of war and death/flirting/ mentions of dead animals/ mentions of grief and injuries/

Extra info:

Y/n is one year younger than neteyam, she is 18 and he is 19.

Lo’ak is 18 and Kiri is also 19. Tuk is 7-8 and spider is 19.

Extra characters: 

Ka’lik (y/ns father. A deceased warrior of the Omaticaya clan)

Zensira (y/n’s mother. deceased best singer and head songstress of the Omaticaya clan)

Makeyo (a warrior of the omaticaya clan. The same age as neteyam and went through iknimiya the same day as well. A filthy simp for y/n)

Kailo (Y/n’s ikran. Your ikran is a male ya’ll. sorry.)

Popiti (tuk’s best friend according to the visual dictionary)

Chapter two synopsis:

Neteyam comes to return y/n’s bracelet and has some internal conflict about his feelings towards her. Makeyo attempts to make a move on y/n and Neteyam experiences a different type of burning in his heart.

Neteyams Pov (trying something new by writing from neteyams pov as a little experiment. Lemme know how yall like it.)

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

“Neteyam”

For a moment the sound of my name leaving her lips in a breath is almost enough to forget myself and drop to my knees. 

The tuft of my tail thwacks the back of my head gently and i force my heartbeat to endure boundaries.

 I clear my throat, finding the words.

My eyes fan over her figure.

The moonlight contours the crevices of her curves. Her eyes, an amorous gold, spark themselves luminous. Almost Neon in the darkness of night. 

There's a bandage around her torso, and one around her left bicep. Her skin smells of grandmother's salves and wooden bowls.

It’s funny how fast the memories flood back. 

There was a time before she was made of fire.

Well, actually, I don't think that’s a fair statement.

There was always a spark. Always that small flicker refusing to perish even in strong winds.

I have memories of playing in the stream with my siblings and Y/n, and occasionally spider.  

She’d chase me. Her feet assaulted the shin deep water with the harsh sloshing of her feet. She tackled me and pulled on my tail. The sunburst air is sweet like nectar against our glistening skin and shrieks of laughter and springtime memories. 

Her laughter challenges the brightness of the sugared sun rays that danced through the canopy, it shakes the stars with its loud singing.

The scattered droplets of water seize on her skin as she chases lo’ak, carrying a smaller spider on her back.

Now she stands before me. Taller, stronger, a warrior in all its forms. 

I clear my throat once again, my eyes flickering over her body.

“How are you? Grandmother was able to treat you?”

She nods, leaning lightly against the wooden entrance frame of the marui.

“The wounds could have been worse. Mo’at was able to clean up the wounds just fine. Tsahik suggested i rest here for the night..’

She trials off, clicking her tongue as she gently taps her finger against the bandage.

The dwindling echoes of our breaths gently keep the silence afloat.

My eyes flicker up when her voice catches my ears.

“You? Any injuries?”

I shrug. “A few scratches. Nothing Serious. Lo’ak has a small bruise on his head but he’ll be fine. Mother treated us earlier.”

Something somber in her irises flickers. It’s small, but its not quiet. I open my mouth to speak but like most other things between us, she beats me to it.

“Why did you fly down there today? You could have been killed.”

There’s a hiss at the endnotes of her voice. And I don't blame her for being pissed. Not for a second.

I frown, I can feel my tail thump lightly against the ground.

“Lo’ak flew his way down there first. I wet after him.”

My confession trails a veil of blankness behind it that lingers in the air. She shakes her head, staring down.

“It’s not a thing of fault. I should have been more responsible. Im the older brother, after all-”

“Bullshit.”

The suddenness of her words make me pause. It wasn’t unexpected, but it seems a bit more vague than usual. Even for her.

“Y/n i-”

“No. No, Neteyam this has to come to an end. You can’t keep taking the fall for him. How many times will you let yourself fall off a cliff before you learn not to justify the one who pushed you off the ledge?”

I’m quiet for a moment. I feel another frown etch itself onto my lips.

“I must hold myself accountable as well. I am the future leader of this clan. If i cannot even keep my siblings out of trouble, how will I protect my people?” 

I’m sure loak had told her of the scolding we received from my father.

She takes a step closer, the fire in her gaze challenges all it sees. My heartbeat speeds up its sympathy.

“Then who protects you, Neteyam?”

I’m still for a moment. My throat hitches quietly and my words come up short.

She takes a breath and shifts herself back a bit, rubbing two fingers to her temple.

Her eyes creased with exhaust. I can tell the day has drained her.

“I’m sorry. I spoke out of line.”

“You never have to apologize to me.”

I can tell it surprises her a bit. How fast my words chased after her own.

My hesitation creeps its way through the blanket of gray that treads along the silence.

I clear my throat once again, averting my gaze.

“I’m glad you returned safely. I was worried sick.”

She chuckles and gently flips the small spiral in her hand.

“Had my lucky charm on my bow today. I guess i have you to thank.”

I cannot help but feel an ache every time I see that damned spiral. Iv’e tormented myself with an object so small it's pathetic. Really. A substitution for the words i couldn't speak.

I force a smile, a gentle chuckle to follow along.

“Well. I see its made some sort of use.”

She nods and places it gently back into the pocket of her loincloth.

I find myself doing the same, fishing around my own pocket until i hear the small clatter of beads.

Ihold her bracelet out to her.

“Here. You lost this today.”

She gasps softly. My heart beckons for my unspoken yearning whenever i saw her eyes light up like that. And fuck, I curse myself for looking away.

She placed it back on her wrist.

“Thank you, Neteyam. I would have been looking for days.”

When her fingers brush my palm a new wave of sun-streaked warmth swallows my chest in the pale moonlight.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

I would do anything for you.

She chuckles softly and I swear I feel my knees buckle at the sound.

All I can do is stare at her for a moment. My eyes tracing her curves and imagine it’s my fingertips, kissing my small apologies onto her skin.

The small breeze wisps at the small loose hairs that edged at her forehead, scattered out of her braids. Her scent is sweet. Her eyes are wondrously doe-like. 

I wish i could pocket the sounds of her laughter. I wish i could reach for her and brush her skin against mine if it meant even a second of her warmth is relished in. 

I want her. All of her. I want her fire even if it burns me. I want her wild high-tide seas even if they drown me. I want her heart even if I must beg for it. I want her lips, and her hands. I want every rough edge and every smooth surface.

It finds a way to bind me in its threshold of longing before I even register what I've done.

My hand reaches out. The planes in the lines of my palm rest against her cheek and the pad of my thumb rubs small circles on the small temple of a space in front of her ear.

I’d forget I ever existed if it was convenient for her.

There was a time I pretended she didn’t exist. Where fear and thought collided with my panic.

Years ago. After I gave her that spiral.

I made her mere presence become a voidance in my life. A small patch of blankness that traced her shape.

There’s a reason this void stands between us. I hurt her. And I will never forgive myself for it.

I was afraid. I was afraid of what my feelings would do to me. Of what it would do to the future olo’eyktan of this clan. I feared distraction. I feared devotion. And now i yearn for it. Call it a punishment, call it karma or something more. All I know is that I pushed her away. It of my arms, out of my circle, and I thought giving her that spiral would fix my mistakes.

It hurts me. The look in her eyes when I avoided her around the village. The way her gaze chased after me when i walked away

I was 15, afraid and stupid. I still haven’t forgiven myself from keeping her out of my circle.

Now I stand before her. This woman I may never deserve. This beautiful woman who will forever hold my heart in her hands.

She stares at me. But it's full of a sour memory that resonates on the edge of her tongue.

“Neteyam..”

There it is. How she says my name.

Fuck.

Fuck, why did I ever think, even for a mere moment my heart wasn’t hers?

Say it again.

Say it again,y/n please i beg you.

But I don't dare say it aloud.

Instead I whisper to her, my thumb stopping its movements for a moment as i cradle her head.

“Y/n, yawne. I am so, so sorry I didn't protect you today. I couldn't bare the thought of you in danger. “

She pushes my hand away, and for a moment the moonlight feels bitter.

“I don’t need your protection.”

It’s not that I think I don't deserve that.

But is it wrong for it to still ache?

“Y/n. please-”

“It is late, neteyam. I wish to rest now. Please.”

Theres a small tremble in the endnotes of her voice.

And i want to strangle the one who caused her this.

But what more can i do when i caused it myself?

I take a step back, gently bowing my head.

My eyes linger on her for a moment longer.

“Good night, Y/n.”

“Good night, Neteyam.”

As the tent flap closes, I take a step back. Staring up at the moon through the large crevices that topped the mountain of highcamp.

Maybe she doesn't belong in my arms.

I ache for her at night. I dream of holding her. I beg for the figment of her not to feebly collapse into  stardust and watch her wither out of my grasp. Her arrow aims at my heart and I tell her of my heartache.

She says nothing as I’m on my knees for her. Her glare is a cryptic mockery. She weakens me. Every moment of this fleeting moment within my reverie is a punishment. The morning sunset is bitter and the sky feels skeletal. 

To her my devotion is a joke and all I can think of is how fucking beautiful she is when she laughs.

I had a dream once that I kissed her. I kissed her until I couldn’t breathe. She tasted dark and delicate. 

I am hers. I was always hers. 

I’d let her ruin me.

Unravel every piece of me and stitch back together what left is salvaged of those small fragments and watch as they spell out her name.

Y/n.

Y/n.

Y/n.

Y/n.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ 

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ 

The next morning was calmer than yesterday to say the least.

Lo’ak went with my father to hunt.

Kiri went with my grandmother to help in the Tsahik tent.

Y/n was off with her own duties, and that left me to help my mother in our family's marui.

Oh yeah, did I mention Tuk?

It wasn’t abnormal that I often found myself conversing with Tuk.

She sits in with her smaller legs tucked under her body. Her hands are much like mine and my mothers, but small and juvenile. They lack gracefulness as they scramble with my braids, slipping the beads she made all by herself (Kiri helped) into my braids. She giggles when I tell her about my hunts. She smacks my forehead with her palm when I tilt my head the wrong way. She climbs over me in all sorts of odd ways while I wince every now and then at the occasional stepping on of my tail.

“Teyam. Stop looking down!”

Tuktirey huffs and my head snaps up, all my attention shifting to my youngest sibling.

“Ah. sorry tuk-tuk.”

She sighs dramatically and continues stringing the beads into my hair.

I smile at my youngest sister. I was close with Tuk. me and her being the only two children out of my siblings that closely resembled my mother’s na’vi features. I don’t credit myself completely. I don’t think it's fair to say that my mother and fathers genes are divided narrowly. Lo’ak my have my fathers appearance but he wields my mothers rebelliousness with pride. Her survival instincts. Her thrill for a chase. Her fire and her wind. Grandmother always found herself amused whenever my mother found herself annoyed with Lo’aks antics. Apparently my mother was no different when she was his age. Chasing rainstorms and dancing through fire. Grandmother always says lo’ak is my mothers shadow.

Me, on the other hand? i've always strived to be like my father. I still do. I remember sitting around a fire as a small child, listening to stories of his days of battle and heroicness. I don’t glorify my father as much as I did then. But he’s still the same man to me, all the same.

Tuk is in the middle of rambling about her morning gossip she gathered from Popiti, as she strings another bead onto my braids.

It's a bit of a guilty pleasure, I suppose. Being entertained by other’s conflicts.  Certainly not proper behavior for the eldest son of toruk makto. Alas, what kind of big brother would I be if I didn't let Tuk carry herself away with her words without worry?

I can’t hide that I enjoy it. But telling myself its for tuk helps a bit.

“And then what?” I query Tuk softly, urging her to continue her story.

She giggles before placing a green colored bead on my braids.

“Well, Popiti’s big sister, Kyuna, didn’t take Takuk’s courting gift!”

I gasp, over-exaggerating my shock to amuse my younger sister, she nods, equally as shocked.

“I know, right!?”

I shake my head, feining disappointment as Tuk giggles.

“My eywa. Poor Takuk.”

Tuk nods, patting down my braids gently.

I try to look over to my right side at where she sat without turning my head.

“Did she say why?”

Tuk shrugged.

“Popiti heard her mom and Kyuna talking. Kyuna said that she didnt want Takuk for a mate.”

I nod, fidgeting with my beaded choker.

“Huh. Well then, good for Kyuna. She knows what she wants, i guess.”

I trail off with my own internal theories.

I knew Kyuna. She was a young healer in the clan. I didn’t care for her much. She was a bit cocky. Always had some excuse for getting out of tasks she didn’t feel like completing.

I also knew Takuk.

I had been in hunting groups with him. We went through iknimaya training together. He was smart. A fine huner. A decent provider. He seemed like a fine mate for anyone. 

Tuk suddenly gasped, her ears twitching as she stared up at me with her big eyes.

“Teyam! You could be Kyuna’s mate!”

I still at her revelation, she blinks at me with baited breath for  response.

I cant help but chuckle as i ruffle the smaller girl’s braids.

“It's a kind offer, Tuk. But I'm not ready to mate yet. Remember what I told father?” 

Who could forget? The most awkward family dinner in the world where i pleaded with my father to give me more time before I choose a mate. My siblings watching as me and my father bickered for a good hour. I think its really the only time iv’e stood up to him. Disagreed with him. My father has been patient since then when it comes to finding my tsahik. But the only reason he is because of my mother finally convinced him to give it a rest.

Finding a mate can be a long process for some.

I already knew who i wanted my mate to be. There wasn’t any debate. And I will wait for her. I will wait to earn her trust back. For as long as it takes. I will be hers for when shes ready. I am hers even when she’s not. That is a promise I refuse to break.

Tuk huffs.

“But whyyyy? Kyuna is pretty. Not as pretty as mama or kiri or y/n-

But she’s not mated.”

I sigh and gently rub Tuk’s back.

“You’ll understand when you’re older. I promise.”

She huffs again but nods, going back to braiding my hair.

Shes in the middle of telling me about the big fish she caught when my father took her to the creek the other day when my mother enters the tent, a basket of fruits under her arm.

I straighten up a bit and Tuk gasps happily, standing to her feet and jogging over to my mother.

“Mama! You’re back!”

She hugs my mothers waist, and my mother places a hand on tuks head while trying to balance the basket filled to the brim with yovo fruits.

I stand up, gently taking the basket from under her arm, chuckling softly.

“Here, Sa’nok. (mother) Let me take that for you.”

She sighs in releif, nodding at me, now fully embracing tuk with two free arms.

“Irayo (thank you) Neteyam.”

Tuk sits back down in her previous spot and i carry the basket to the small wooden table, placing it down.

“Nice haul today?”

She smiles at me. “The new grove has almost completed its growth cycle. It's almost time for a new harvest.”

I nod, making a mental reminder to tell my father that later so he can organize more foraging groups. 

“Mama, look at how pretty Neteyam is.”

My mother gently examines my newly beaded braids with her fingers, gently taking each braid between her thumb and her palm.

“Very good work, tuktirey. You should help me do mine later. Why don’t you go to your grandmothers tent, hm? I left a large bowl of new beads on the far side corner, near her salve pouch.

Her eyes sparkle and before my mother can say another word, Tuk is racing out of the tent flap.

I laugh along with my mother, and she sits, starting to cut up some fruits.

“Ma’itan, could you help me with this?”

I nod, unsheathing my knife and sitting down next to her, helping her peel some fruits.

A silence fills the air for a moment, until my mothers soft, accented voice breaks through the gray.

“What troubles you, Neteyam?”

Of course she knew.

I was born from the pieces of my mothers ash-littered broken promises and my father’s guilt-ridden internal death sentence. 

My mother and i were tapestries weaved from the same colors.

I am my mother’s son.

She knew me like the back of her hand. She doesn’t have to recognize me by face. I know my father and my mother both love me. But when my mask cracks like this, my mother isn’t like my father. He tries to tighten it to ensure it doesn’t fall down again. My mother tries to mend the cracks.

I sigh, avoiding her gaze.

“Nothing Sa’nok. I am fine.”

I’m a shit liar. That’s just a known fact about me. She knows i’m lying. And maybe thats a good thing. Maybe she knows to just leave it be.

She chucks another fruit skin peel to the side as it forms a small pile with the other discadrded peels. 

“Is it because of your fathers words, yesterday? He was harsh, I know..But he is just afraid, Neteyam.”

That’s not what’s wrong, but I decide it's better than saying ‘hey ma i’m helplessly in love with a woman who probably hates my guts’

Daddy issues it is.

I nod, still avoiding her gaze.

“Yes. I know. Father just wants what's best for us.”

My mother sighs for a moment, pausing her movements, her knife ceasing its carving into the new fruit.

She looks over at me and she smiles.

There’s something about that smile. It’s like an echo that beckons your name. It’s like a face with lines scribbled over it. Sometimes when my mother looks at me I feel as if she’s seeing someone else. Flesh wrapped around the stories foretold under my bones. 

She see’s someone else’s shadow in my place. As if a ghost welcomes itselfinto the sequence of a wreckage of memories unknown to me. 

She speaks quietly.

“Your father and you are more alike than you may think, Neteyam.”

I can’t hep but smile at her words. Theres fanned flowers that grow under the gray cast of gilded clouds under the garden of her irises. She smiles too.

“I mean it, Neteyam. I see more of him in you every day, my son.”

I’m quiet for a moment, but my smile only falters slightly.

“What was he like, my father? When you first met him?”

My mother sighs, the infinite memories flickering past her eyes.

“When I first met your father, I was trying to kill him.”

I can’t help but chuckle. The story all too familiar to me from being told countless times as a child. But it’s not quite what im looking for.

“No, no- i know how you met but-

What was he like? Really?..”

My mother thinks for a moment, not sparing me a glance as she continues cutting her fruit.

“He was stupid. An idiot. I did not think he would survive a single day out here in the forest.”

I hum in agreement trying to visualize everything from her eyes.

“But he was..”

She sighs.

“He was persistent. Like a weak animal with no hope of survival. But it just refuses to die. Sometimes I thought the world moved twice as fast for him..he was eager. To learn, to live. To taste the wind and the sky..”

For a moment, I see a secondary shadow behind the  fragments of my parents love story.

My father told me he felt drawn to my mother from the first moment he saw her.

I see something else in place of the ghost behind the path of stars that led my mother to my father.

I see a man who yearns for a woman. I see a man on his knees, I see his devotion. I see his heart in his hands, i see his stained fingertips of an unfamiliar sleepless skin.

I see a woman so beautiful she might as well be a figment of the moonlight, and i’m jealous of the wind and the air and the breeze because of how easily it touches her skin.

I see her arrow aimed at his heart and the distrust in her eyes. I see her anger, and her betrayal as it echoes through a bitter blue heinous flame.

I see y/n. And I see her wall that kept me out.

I look at my mother, a shell of something that once was taking a new shape.

Was it possible? For history to rhyme?

“How..how long did it take you to love him? Even though he was an enemy.. Even though you didn;t trust him?”

My mother is silent for another moment.

She gently places her knife down, placing her hands on her thighs as she stared at the blank tented wall infront of her.

“I think it was foretold by the stars, ma’itan.

I hated him. I hated him because of what he was and where he came from. I hated his false demon body and i hated the way he walked, and talked. I hated his hair and his hands and his eyes. 

I hated him because of what his people took from me. I hated him because of the pain they caused my people..

The day I found him in the forest i was going to kill him. My arrow was aimed at his heart. But when the great mother spoke to me I knew better than not to listen.

I think i was always meant to meet him. To teach him my people’s ways..Because it led me to loving him. 

That morning when I returned from the tree of souls with him, 

My mother had told me if i choose this path, to be his mate, i could never be tsahik.

I told her, "He was my path.”

I’m still as i take in my mother’s words. But the clouds still creep behind my uncertain heartbeat.

“But hometree. And the war. How did you forgive him?”

My mother gently takes my hand in hers, and she takes a breath

“Ma’itan. You will someday learn that love is not easy. It is hungry. It is impatient. It is loud and it is often hidden.

Love gave me many gifts. You, your siblings, my home and my family.

But it has taken much from me all the same. 

Love is like swimming in the ocean at night. It's deep, it's dark, the shallows far from reach. But Within that darkness I found your father. I found my light, and someday you will find yours.”

Love is sacrificial. My mother was right. Love isnt easy. Love is sometimes caged and flightless, thick with bitter scents and tearstained starlight. Its bare, and its real, its bruised and blemished and its beautiful because its her. Its Y/n. My y/n. Her name is a hymn of scattered prayers lost to a dreaded dawn and a coppered colored sun. She’s made of every broken and perfect piece of the universe and the stars stumble over their words to describe her beauty

She’s the moon and i’m the sun. Withering myself away every night to allow her to shine. 

I will sacrifice. I will work. 

She has weakened me. The night sky canvases her skin while the bleakness of sunlight mosaics mine. Famined for her touch, I refuse to look away. I refuse to blink. The sky is a game of chance and the sunset swallows me whole. The scarlet screams in the hellish hues of cerise ablaze under her skin.

I will not settle for anything less than her.

Love is sacrificial. Then i will steal the night sky for her.

I softly smile at my mother before squeezing her hand.

“Thank you, mother.”

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ 

(Y/n’s pov) 

Love was a funny thing.

You used to think your love for neteyam was forged from heartbeat-rhythmed nightskies and dripping orange soaked sunsets.

It was dreamlike. Bleeding through every crevice and hidden place with its incandescence. 

He was a part of you. Apart of everything you were and everything you did.

He was in your dreams when you closed your eyes at night.

He was in the shied morning sun rays that crept over the mountain tops. He was in the wild winds and draped under midnight melodies.

Its the memories of smaller things you remember most. 

Giggling while he fumbled with an arrow when he noticed you were watching him practice. 

Helping Neytiri stitch together his cummerbund to gift to him when he had completed his iknimiya. You remember the look of pride in his eyes when he wore a piece of your handiwork to represent this new chapter in his life. Concluding his training as a hunter, and becoming a warrior.

You remember taking walks with him through the forest, and the way he would hold a branch back out of your way.

You remember hunting with him, and racing him down the trailed path. 

You remember perching on a branch and watching the stars with him. You remember his warmth as he whispered to you all the constellations his father taught him. You remember his hands gently guiding yours to trace the patterns scattered among the stars.

You remember a spark.

And then, you remember a gust of wind that dulled the warmth.

Distance. You can recall distance.

It started out small.

Frequent training with his father.

Watching his siblings.

Hunting. Preparing. Working. 

His touch became something you started to crave. Not something that came granted. You remember waiting for him. Waiting for him to return from his hunt, waiting to go stargazing. Liek he promised. You remember checking the sky, the scarlet and blue collide to signify the subduing trials of daylight making its exit.

You remember your mother asking you what you were doing outside.

“Waiting.”

Is all you responded.

You didn’t tell her what you waited for.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

He never showed up.

As the sky darkened, it started to rain.

There weren't any stars that night anyways. spider dragged you back inside. Complaining about how he wasn’t taking care of you if you got sick. 

Maybe it wasn't rain at all. Maybe the stars didn't come out that night because they were too busy falling through the cracks left in your heart.

You felt forgotten. Unloved. Unwanted.

Lo’ak told you that Jake was always on Neteyam’s ass about his training, and thats why he was so distant.

But it wasn’t just the distance.

His eyes no longer brightened when he looked at you. Its the gaze you give someone when they’re speaking to you, and you aren’t really listening. You’re just waiting for them to be done talking.

Spider watched you come home and cry one night, listened to you scream into your palms and rant angrily for hours about the boy who broke your heart.

Then, the night the sky turned red, a new kind of broken was born.

You remember hearing the whooshing of wings and panicked shrieks of stray ikrans, The unfamiliar scent of something metallic and sulfured. 

You remember running into the morning that barely crept ist light over the canopy tips, the still dark sky like a cloak encased the world.

You remember finding your mothers songcord on the ground. You remember finding her body. You remember seeing your fathers not but a few feet away.

You remember the feeling of the air being mercilessly ripped from your lungs.

You remember Jake running towards you, his own panic flooding your ears as he begged you to leave with him. That it wasn’t safe there.

He had to drag you away, holding you tight to him as you practically collapsed into his chest in the front of his ikran. 

You remember stumbling into the village upon return, Neytiri catching you in her arms and the blurred sight of her own tear stained face as she cupped your face in her hands. You screamed and cried and fell to your knees as Lo’ak rushed to your side, shushing you gently and rubbing your back.

You remember showing spider the song chord.

You think he cried harder than you did. You both lost your family that day.

You remember the hollowness in the cup of your palm as neteyam held your hand. 

You remember when he gifted you that spiral under the starlight.

You always thought he was the sun. And now you know for sure.

Forever out of your reach. Aching for the stretches of salvageable warmth blessed upon your finger tips. You could chase it to the ends of Pandora but every night it would abandon you. 

You loved him even if you didn’t know what he was.

Like the sky he was a mystery. Endless but in the midst of the universe it held many treasures he swore he kept just for you. Songs of starlight and supernovas.

You reached for nothing. Hoping to grab the sky and pull yourself into his light. Feel the sunlight on your palm and chase it like the golden hour was a game of chance. 

But now, you knew for sure he was the sun.

But he wasn’t your sun.

This sun was made of stone. It was heavy and roughed. 

The sky was no longer a mystery. The sun no longer honeyed your skin in favor. Tragedy prevailed the night sky and when his blanket of warmth tried to regain its sanctuary of safety to encase your tainted trust, all you saw was a trail of falling stars you called rain and broken promises.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ 

One of your tasks is to teach the younger children of the clan.

You didn’t mind it much. You often found it quite enjoyable.

You beat out most of the young warriors in your group when the clan was discussing who would train the young warriors. Only the best archer of your age group would have such a role.

It was down to you and a girl named Kyuna. She was skilled, but you were better

You chuckle as the little ones scurry past you, little shrieking giggles as they place their practice bows in a pile. 

You doubted yourself. You doubted your ability to train those younger than you.  What reasons can you give them for fighting when your own was grief?

Seeing the children and watching them learn gave you hope. Hope for a better future. 

The lessons today seemed to drag on. The thought of Neteyams words had lingered in your mind since last night. 

You sighed to yourself softly as you started to gather all the bows in a basket. Letting your thoughts run free.

“Need help with that?”

You swung yourself around, a hand instinctively resting on the top of your knife sheath, 

You found yourself face to face with a slightly taller na’vi boy. His braids to his shoulders. His smile hatched itself on baited breath, his white freckles that scattered across his face.

“Makeyo. For eywa’s sake don’t sneak up on me like that.”

He chuckled in mock surrender, throwing his hands up.

“I know better than to mess with the mighty Y/n. Don’t want to end up with an arrow in my neck.”

You roll your eyes and shoved him playfully.

Makeyo was one of your fathers students. He was a skilled archer, often competing with Neteyam. You grew closer after your parents death. Makeyo was your partner when lt came to training the younger children of the clan. Having already completed his iknimiya, and being a strong piece of the people, he was perfect for assisting you with your role.

“Great practice today, huh?”

The two of you found yourselves chatting while you walked back to the supply tent to return the arrows.

You nodded.

“Ya’here is getting better. Her form has improved.”

He smiled at you, his tail gently brushing your thigh.

“She’ll make a fine warrior one day. She always tells me she wants to be just like you?”

You try to hide the small shock that jolted through you at the sudden contact, with an awkward smile.

“Well, thats scary as shit.”

He raised a brow.

“Why?”

You shrugged.

“Knowing she wants to be just like me? I’m a wreck.”

He sighs, holding the tent flap open for you.

“Well, I think you’re perfect.”

The world seems to still for a moment, and your body feels stiff.

“You’re brave. And strong, and honorable…”

He took a step forward. 

“You’re passionate, and you care for others. Especially those kids.”

He gently places a hand on your arm, its firm, but its not demanding.

You feel your breath hitch, and your tail flicks behind you.

“Makeyo. We shouldn’t-”

“Are we intruding?”

You turn to see spider and Lo’ak.

Lo’ak glares at Makeyo, and spider marches in between the two of you, his smaller frame seemingly less intimidating, but you appreciate the effort.

“All right back it up lover boy.

No no, farther than that. far enough that i don’t smell your lack of personal space.”

Spider tugs at your wrist, shooing Makeyo away.

You groan, smacking  spider with your tail.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Makeyo.”

Makeyo nods, waving awkwardly to spider and lo’ak before making his exit.

“Uh huh. Keep it moving.”

Lo’ak ushers him away and you hiss at both of them.

“Hey. Dumb and dumber. what the fuck?”

You glare.

Spider throws his hands up in surrender, shaking his head.

“I don’t like that guy, sis.”

The three of you start making your way back towards the sully tent for the night.

You bickered the whole way.

Spider sighs,pointing his thumb in the opposite direction. 

“All i’m saying is, big mac over there-”

“His name is Makeyo.”

Spider shrugs.

“Same thing-

But anyways. I don’t like him.”

Lo’ak nods.

“He’s desperate. He wants you bad.”

You roll your eyes.

“Makeyo was just being nice.”

Lo’ak scoffs.

“Y/n, I love you. I really do. But if that’s nice, then flirting might mean getting you pregnant.”

Spider jumps and smacks the back of Lo’ak’s head, making him stumble and wince.

“Son of a bitch-

What was that for!?”

Spider glares at the taller blue boy. 

“Don’t jinx it! I’m not ready to be an uncle!?”

“Who’s going to be an uncle?”

Its the moment you hear Jake’s voice the three of you realize you’ve stumbled into the Sully's tent.

The three of you look at one another, then back at Jake.

Spider whistles, pointing to an imaginary watch.

“Oh boy. Would you look at the time? Time for me to go meet norm for dinner…I’ll catch you guys later.”

Lo’ak calls spider a bitch under his breath for abandoning the two of you two deal with the heap of awkwardness.

Jake resumes his task and Neytiri’s voice calls from inside.

“Lo’ak, Y/n. come on, its time to eat.”

You make your way inside, and Neytiri and Kiri come into view, steaming some meat over a fire.

Kiri waves and jogs her way over to give you a hug, her only slightly taller frame pressed against yours.

“Hey. how was your day?” She hums, tucking a braid behind your ear.

Kiri’s voice was melodic and soothing. It drips like the dew drops onto morning grass, kissed by the forest scent.

You go to answer, but before you can you’re body slammed by a smaller na’vi.

“Y/n! You’re back!”

It only takes a blink of an eye for you to open your arms for her, picking her up and putting her on your hip.

“Hey Tuk! How’s my sweet girl?”

Tuk giggles and nuzzles her head onto your neck.

Lo’ak rudley pushes his way between you and kiri.

“Excuse me, don’t i get a hug?”

He huffs dramatically, flipping his braids like some sort of diva.

“Of course you can, Ma’itan.” Neytiri appears behind him and kisses his head. You and the girls giggle and Lo’ak groans.

“Maaa. come on-”

He swats neytiri away and she chuckles, giving you a quick shoulder squeeze next.

“Did your lessons go okay today? How were the children?”

You take a seat next to Kiri, Lo’ak on your other side as Neteyam takes a seat next to Tuk, 

You nod in response to Neytiri as Jake hands everyone a piece of meat.

“Doing well. They are making progress. They are learning faster every day. I think they will be ready to try larger arrows soon. Possibly farther targets.”

Jake pats your back.

“Nice work, kiddo.”

“Speaking of targets...”

Lo’ak mumbles under his breath,you respond by smacking him with your tail.

“What?”

Kiri raises an eyebrow.

Lo’ak shrugs.

“Makino or whatever his name is was flirting with Y/n.”

Kiri smiles at you, gently shaking your shoulder.

“Makeyo? He is a fine warrior.”

You groan, not noticing how Neteyams ears pinned back slightly.

“Makeyo?”

His deep, accented voice pulls your focus towards where the boy sat.

All the sudden the space arounds you feels a bit shallow. Lo’ak answers for you.

“Oh yeah. He was really quite brave. He wouldn't have been so brave if he knew me and spider were planning to feed him to a thanator.”

Jake sighs.

“Must we plot a murder at the dinner table?”

Neytiri nods, swallowing her food and handing a piece of her fruit to Tuk.

“Your father is right. Besides, There is no rush for any of you to mate. Y/n, Makeyo would make a fine life partner but you need not decide anytime soon, my sweet.”

Tuk pipes up suddenly.

“Teyam is gonna be mated with kyuna!”

Neteyam nearly spits out his water, going into a coughing fit as he repeatedly brings his fist to his chest to attempt to stop it.

Jake immediately started patting his back, concerned.

“Jesus christ boy! Easy now, don’t forget to swallow.”

“You have chosen Kyuna?”

It comes out more bitter than you thought. The mere thought of another woman in his arms stinging an unfamiliar scorch in your chest,

Or maybe..it wasn’t so unfamiliar.

Neteyam finally breathes normally again and shake his head frantically.

‘“What? No! Of course not.”

“Kyuna? Really bro? Shes kinda a bitch…”

Lo’ak says, attempting to mask it with his own fake cough.

“Hey. Language.”

Jake scolds, pointing his knife he was using to cut Tuk’s meat with at Lo’ak.

“Its true though! She’s always hustling me to do her chores!”

Neytiri raises her eyebrow.

“If it happens repeatedly why do you keep falling for it?”

Lo’ak had no answer.

Kiri clicked her tongue.

“Y/n, didn’t you overrun Kyuna’s role for training the younger children.”

“Oh yeah! That's right! Y/n made her eat dust in that archery trial. No surprise there.”

You felt a small heat spread to your cheeks out of embarrassment.

“It wasn’t that big of a deal…”

Neytiri chuckles and Neteyam speaks up.

“so..Makeyo. You work with him?’

You nod.

“He helps me train the younger group of children. He’s actually quite helpful.

You didn’t notice the way neteyams ears pinned back slightly.

But Lo’ak did.

“Yeah. But he sucks at Ikran riding.” 

You raised your eyebrow. 

Come to think of it, You don’t think you ever saw him ride his ikran.

“He is?”

Lo’ak nods.

“He and Neteyam went hunting one time. The idiot crashed into a tree while neteyam swerved it easily.”

You can’t help but laugh at the image, and Lo’ak winked at neteyam.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ 

Authors note:

HOLY FUCKKKK! I’m finally done! This actually did not take as long as i thought it would. 

It’s not as long as the last chapter ya’ll i’m sorry. But hopefully the close times in which both were posted makes up for it?

We’re gonna get some kiri and y/n bonding time in next chapter and hopefully some more jealous neteyam. Btw what did we think of the neteyam pov? Leave some comments about it so i can know whether to add it in later.

Taglist:

@mntx666

@isnt-itstrange

@thebestrouge

@bay7let

@fairuzwhat

@jackiehollanderr

@6423btw

@satesatesate2009

[httpiastri]

PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER ONE (BAHRAIN)

genre: fluff, angst, etc.

warnings: hmmm nothing i think

word count: 5.3k

author's note: aaaa first chapter !! i don't rlly like it but still !!!! a very much opener/get-to-know-the-characters/intro chapter, so maybe boring at times idk. still so excited, thanks to everyone who's contributed. love u all <333

author's note pt2: when i write about the different drivers and their living situations, i know it's not all accurate to how they actually live irl. ik i wrote modena instead of maranello here for ollie although idk exactly when he moved, but there are mentions of milton keynes for the rbj drivers bcs it made it easier for me. anyways, just go with whatever i say about how they live lol. also !!!! i changed yn's team from mp to campos hehe. okay now let's start :)

series masterlist

the winter break coming to an end is always a bittersweet feeling.

having a lot of free time to catch up with friends and family is always greatly appreciated, but at the same time, it doesn't take many days before you miss racing after the last race of the season. especially when the season is as short as the f3 season is, and especially when you don't partake in any of the winter-season races.

this year, though, coming back to the paddock doesn't feel as complicated as it most often does. your heart is light and your smile is big as you enter through the gates after the long taxi ride from your hotel, and you already can't wait to get started.

as you make your way toward the campos truck, you greet a few people you meet here and there, but it's the sight of a head full of dark, curly hair that makes you stop in your tracks. "jak!"

the american turns around when he hears your voice, grin taking over his face already. you strut all the way over to him, practically throwing yourself into his arms. "hey there," he chuckles, giving you a big hug.

"oh, i've missed you so much!" you exclaim, giving him one last squeeze before pulling away. "it feels like i haven't seen you in ages."

"right? the break was way too long."

juan pokes his head through the door to the truck when he hears your voices, making some kind of comment about all of these loud teenagers always causing a commotion, before coming down to greet you with a hug as well. "how was your break?" he asks.

"wonderful, really. i spent most of it at home, catching up with family and friends. then me and ollie-" your eyes widen at your own words. you clear your throat, looking away from both of the boys for a second. "well, i went to italy."

your relationship with ollie isn't exactly a secret around the paddock, but it's a bit of an unspoken rule not to mention it too much. both because you all want to separate your personal lives from your racing ones – you don't wish to crash into a close friend like jak any more than you'd like to crash into ollie, after all – and because a certain other driver might be around to hear.

someone who's quite the conflict of interest in this specific topic.

your break truly was wonderful. it felt like the only things on your schedule were skiing in the italian mountains, gym-and sim-training, and just relaxing at home in england to recharge for the next season. you had spent a lot of it with ollie, getting to know both him and his family better. it hadn't taken you long before you were best friends with his little sister, sharing little inside jokes and spending time cheering her on at the stable. and you'd even grown surprisingly close with ollie's younger brother, and you loved seeing the three siblings interact.

they all made you feel truly at home with them, like an extended family. you couldn't have asked for anything more.

ollie was well-known in your family even before the break, especially considering how he was one of the first drivers your father picked out for the academy. and during the break, he only further impressed them; he always helped out with household tasks, he did his best to create connections to every relative of yours that he met, and he even bought the sweetest little christmas presents for your parents and grandparents. however, just the mention of italy in your current conversation is enough to make the dams drivers understand. no other detail is necessary.

when you're done talking about your break, it's juan's turn, and then jak's. during the catchup, more and more people drop by to say hello, and it doesn't take long before there's a full-on gathering outside the dams truck. dennis, another one of your former academy members, and pepe, your new teammate and newly found platonic soulmate, both listen in as jak tells you all about how jetlagged he is after coming back from the states just two days ago. "have you gotten properly settled in with aston?" you ask with a smile.

"totally. it's been great, honestly. even the apartment they found for me is top-notch."

"oh? better than milton keynes?"

jak raises his eyebrows at you, and then he bursts out laughing. "duh." throughout the many years of living next-door from each other, there wasn't a single day when the two of you didn't complain about something the apartment complex. the smell, the noise, the trails of blood in the staircase; not exactly things you'll miss when you move out one day.

"i still can't really believe we're not neighbors anymore," you complain, jutting out your bottom lip as you speak. "i've been so close to knocking on your old door so many times, but now some other freak lives there-"

"hey!" pepe shoves your shoulder, and the whole group laughs. "you're much worse than i am!"

"i'm so glad i finally moved out of there," dennis chimes in. "if i had been neighbors with y/n and pepe at the same time… i don't think i would've gotten any sleep at all, man."

"i didn't get any sleep for four years when i lived there..." jak groans.

"is this your first time in a series together?" juan jumps in, looking between you and jak, but seems surprised when you both nod. "best friends but you've never raced each other? maybe this season is what forces you apart."

"yeah, what will you do if i crash into you when you're in the lead?" jak teases, pressing an elbow into your side.

"then i think a few compromising pictures of you might make their way to the aston martin headquarters..."

when it's like this, being on the same grid with all of these people is so easy. you're all friends, not opponents. all in the same boat with the same excitement and expectations for the season. unfortunately, you know it won't stay this uncomplicated for long. when you're actually out on track in a few weeks, forcing each other into the walls and swearing at each other over the team radios, there won't be any more happy faces.

but for now, you enjoy smiling with the people who are just as much your friends as they are your enemies. that is, until you spot someone else joining your little group.

paul.

suddenly, the smile feels much more forced; the air is thicker and harder to breathe in. and when he makes his way over to you, a lump forms in your throat.

a lump you understand probably won't disappear all season.

the second you're back in your hotel room, you reach for the little dark blue book you've hidden in your bedside drawer. the pen in your hand is one you've had for years, one you always bring with you to every race weekend. the ink has been refilled possibly hundreds of times, but the plastic body has remained the same ever since you bought it.

the journal itself is torn; it's been used and loved for many years, too. it's like an extra best friend, a second home. when you're writing in it, it's one of the few times you feel like you can actually be your true, authentic self – it's one of the few times when you're not afraid that someone will judge your emotions or thoughts.

today, you know what you want to write about instantly.

i saw paul for the first time since abu dhabi.

i haven't been able to stop thinking about him. no matter how hard, i couldn't get him out of my mind. i've been wondering what he looks like now, how his voice has changed, if his smile is still as bright. and suddenly, he was there and i saw him.

the answer? he's just as he always was. and i can't tell if that makes me feel alright or awful.

you're pulled out of your head by the sound of a knock on your door, and you instantly scramble to hide your journal in the drawer again. the second you pull the door open and ollie's gaze meets yours, it's like all of your previous thoughts disappear. it's just you and him again; no one else even exists.

especially not paul.

"are you ready to go?" ollie asks, hands finding your sides as he leans in to press a quick kiss to your cheek. "i found the address of some good pasta place, it's just a few blocks from here."

you nod, your hands landing on top of his and giving them a quick squeeze before pulling away. "i just need to put on some earrings," you start, backing into the room. "will you help me choose?"

"of course."

"carlos set a stunning lap today. did you see it?"

the question makes you roll your eyes, letting out a sigh as you bring out three plates from the cupboard above the stove. your dad has always been quick to comment on anything good regarding ferrari; to anyone living in the max verstappen era, even a sliver of a good result is enough to spark some hope, so you aren't exactly surprised. "yes, dad. of course i saw it."

"i reckon this will be our year," your dad continues as you walk past him cooking by the stove, carrying the plates to the dinner table. "carlos will make them regret getting lewis instead of him."

you can't help the chuckle that leaves your mouth. your mom gives you a knowing glare over her newspaper – don't start anything. you choose to ignore it. "you really think this is how it's going to look next week during the actual race?" you ask. "you don't think max is sandbagging the slightest?"

"i'm just telling you," your dad starts, giving his stew a good stir. the snarky tone in his voice is unmistakable. "don't come home crying to me when you realize red bull isn't going to cut it anymore. if you regret your choices, go somewhere else."

even like this, when you're back home for a few days to catch up with your family, neither of you can stay away from this bickering. your dad is always pestering you about sticking with the red bull junior team, and you never can back down from a fight. you're way too stubborn.

"are you saying that i wouldn't have a place in ferrari if i wanted to?" you set the plates down with a thud, the sound making your mother flinch in her seat by the table. "you would say no to your only daughter, huh?"

"i'm just saying that you'd need to prove yourself to get into the academy."

despite your harsh tones, most people around you think you're just joking around when you act like this; some family-mockery can never hurt, right? however, there's always a hint of seriousness behind it. it's been like this between the two of you forever, and especially ever since your dad became the head of the ferrari driver academy – the rivalry between you two is stronger than ever.

you've always been sure of your choice; you've always felt like the red bull family is perfect for you. but recently, you've started to wonder if staying with the team actually was the right thing for you. what really is your future in the team? it's not like you haven't got great drivers ahead of you, drivers who will be called in for a possible f1 seat before you.

and it's not like red bull has a stellar record of keeping all of their drivers. they only have four seats in formula one, after all.

your dad wants you in ferrari, that much is clear. you may have joined the red bull junior team because of his past with the team; he did win their first ever championship, after all. accepting was the only option when you got the offer to join. however... your dad really wants you in ferrari. there's just something about the brand, the colors and the history that obviously is intriguing for everyone. even lewis hamilton couldn't stay away, for god's sake.

you can't admit it, though. not here, not right now.

so instead, you choose to fight fire with fire. "bullshit," you mumble under your breath before speaking clearly again. "second in the championship last year wasn't proof enough?"

"stop this," your mom says, folding up her newspaper and placing it on the table. you roll your eyes yet again but look back at her when she speaks again. "new subject: how is our dear ollie doing?"

you visibly relax at the question, your heart softening in your chest. "he's good. he's back in modena now, so..."

if it had been your dad asking about ollie, you know it would've been because he's interested in how the academy is doing. but since your mom is the one asking, you know it's real concern and curiosity. "how did he find the new car? did he enjoy testing?"

"not really," you say, slipping into the seat opposite your mum as your dad places the pot of stew in front of you on the table. "though, you know, the prema cars are never that good in bahrain. but he assumes they'll bounce back."

there's something in your dad's tone when he speaks again that makes you stop in the middle of your reach for the ladle. "yeah, so i've heard..." it's almost sarcastic, maybe a bit... irritated?

you turn towards him, a frown on your face. "what?"

"william," your mom says with a shake of her head. she knows something. "let's not go there." but just as you're about to call them out on how strange they're acting, she speaks again: "what do your upcoming weeks look like? for how long will you be back in england?"

anyone with eyes – or even without, to be fair – can tell that they're hiding something. and while your curiosity is killing you, you're not in the mood for a full-fledged fight at this time. you take the high road, which isn't your most familiar way of handling things like this, and try your best to push away any wishes to question your parents. you answer, engage in polite conversations and chat about your upcoming season. then, you thank them for dinner and leave the house after giving them their respective kisses on their cheeks.

but all evening, your mind is on something else. and when you get back home to your apartment, your fingers itch to send ollie a text asking if he knows anything. but instead, you go to bed with a knot in your stomach. maybe it's a topic for another day.

being back in the car for testing was great, but it was nothing compared to being back on the track for an actual race weekend. the first round of the championship was something you'd looked forward to for what felt like years, and now it was finally time. you've never been more excited, or nervous, for any race weekend.

you weren't off to the best of starts, though. qualifying has always been one of your stronger suits, so coming 13th was not a result you had anticipated. thankfully, it meant you had time to practice overtaking and had a good chance of improving your place. having to start right behind pepe and paul in both races was an interesting coincidence, but you were obviously not going to let any of it affect your racing.

though p8 is not the best place to finish, you are actually quite pleased with having gained several positions in the sprint race and taking your first point of the year. the car was, as you knew it would be, very different from the f3 car, although you were surprisingly confident and managed it well despite the circumstances.

paul, too, handled it all very well – p12 to p5 is a great record. and when he sees the timing board and realizes that you also did well considering the circumstances, he's overjoyed. he's practically bouncing down the paddock when he finally gets out of his car, accepting the fans' cheers and the handshakes from his engineers with a big grin. and when he sees you further down the paddock, his mind is filled with memories of the two of you celebrating your good placements in all other categories.

just because you aren't a couple now doesn't mean you can't honor these results together, right?

but just a second later, he realizes that you're surrounded by the familiar red-clad staff members instead of your own campos staff, and you're standing right by that red prema car he knows so well. and, sure enough, soon the person he'd forgotten about steps up to you.

paul watches as you wrap your arms around ollie's shoulders, and his heart sinks in his chest. your boyfriend hides his face in your shoulder and your hand comes up to stroke the skin on the back of his neck. paul can tell how your lips are moving, and the pout you're showing off tells him enough about what's going on even though he can't actually hear what you're saying. you aren't prioritizing being happy about your own race – it's more important to comfort ollie.

to paul, there's something so unsettling about the sight. he's seen the two of you together many times before – besides, he gets tagged in pretty much every picture a fan takes of you with your boyfriend – but it isn't your proximity that he has issues with.

the thing that upsets him is the fact that there's a frown stretched across your features; one that doesn't leave even when you part from ollie, or when you're cheered on by your mechanics, or when you leave for your post-race interviews. a frown that any other time would be replaced with a big, proud smile because of your accomplishments.

the music blasting into your ears from your airpods cuts out the rest of the world, the usually so busy and loud paddock all gone the second you pressed the play button on your phone. it's been your favorite way of getting in the race mood for years; you're not superstitious in many other ways, but your playlist has stayed the same since your first season in f4. walking around the garage, doing your warmups, or even just sitting around and waiting to get in the car like you are right now, you listen to the exact same songs on repeat. it's one of the few things that makes you truly focus on the race ahead of you.

so when you feel two hands on your shoulders from behind, you jump in your seat. turning your head, you're relieved to see the big smile of pepe shining down at you. "did i scare you?" he asks loudly enough to cut through the music, and you barely have time to nod and take one airpod out before he speaks again. "good, that was my intention."

you slide your airpods into their case as pepe plops into the seat next to you, eyes zoning in on the f3 feature race on the screen in front of you. "i'm so upset," you huff, shaking your head. "did you see the start?"

"i heard," he answers just as dino's red car appears on the screen, and he crosses his arms over his chest. "but he's made up ten places already, right?"

"yeah..." you lean your head onto his shoulder with a sigh. "we should focus on the positives. like chris!"

"and like our upcoming race." you can practically hear his grin when he speaks. "i have a good feeling about it."

when you found out that jak was leaving the red bull junior academy last fall, you were heartbroken. he's been one of your closest friends ever since you first met; the two of you have always been joined by the hip, despite how you've never raced in the same series before, and you spent most of your free time either training together or just hanging out. how would you ever get over him leaving you all alone in the academy?

thankfully, pepe joined in the late summer. at first, you were just acquaintances, but something about his personality was too good not to fall for. it didn't take long for him to become one of your closest friends, too. another boy your age, another boy with crazy energy and amazing potential �� he filled the void in your heart quite well.

as well as jak's old apartment.

you'd raced each other in f3 last season, though barely ever crossed paths or talked. but living next to each other, doing all of your sim work together, and now even being on the same team meant that your relationship went from zero to one hundred in just days.

this season is your first with campos, while he's been with the team for several years already, and so far he's been very good at helping you get used to everything off track. they took a big chance choosing two rookies for their lineup, and the two of you promised each other to do your best to make them satisfied with their choice. so far, you've gotten one third and eight place in your first-ever f2 race – and you're just getting started.

"i do, too," you hum. "let's go out there and show them today."

paul is beaming when you see him stroll back to the paddock after his media duties. his cap is perched on top of his head – the right cap, finally – and his fingers are still tightly wrapped around the neck of his champagne bottle. when he notices you leaning against the doorframe leading into the f2 hospitality, his smile grows even bigger.

you meet him halfway, arms wrapping around his shoulders easily, just like they have so many times before. one of his arms drapes around your waist and he holds you close, a hum vibrating from his chest. finally, he thinks to himself; this definitely makes up for all of the things he felt yesterday.

"congrats, paul," you tell him. "that was amazing. you were amazing."

"thank you," he says before pausing. then, he lets out a chuckle. "to be honest, i wasn't sure if you would care."

you frown at him when you pull slightly away from him, just enough to look into his eyes. is that what he really thought? that you wouldn't care about his driving? "oh, please. you still mean a lot to me, okay?" your hand moves down to his upper arm, giving it a soft squeeze. "i still consider you to be one of my closest friends."

friends. the word stings like a knife in his heart. it's been months since you broke up, and yet, it still feels like a raw wound.

paul forces a smile. he understands that despite how painful it is, there's something good in it. there's still a place for him in your heart, even if he's forced to share it with someone else.

he pulls you in again, and the hug is even tighter now than before. it's a comforting feeling; you're both at peace, with a good weekend behind you, in the arms of someone so close to you. after everything you've gone through together, but especially everything he has gone through these last few months with the mercedes academy and prema, you're finally through to the other side. "it all worked out in the end, huh?" you ask after a few moments of silence.

"i guess it did." you part from each other to leave that oh-so-familiar gap between you yet again. "will you be celebrating with us tonight? i think pepe had something planned. you know how he is."

you snort. "yeah, i do know. maybe i will." you shift uncomfortably, crossing your arms over your chest as your eyes dart to the ground. "but, um... i'll have to check with..."

you don't even say his name – you don't have to. ollie's entire weekend has been so far from everyone's expectations, and if you know him correctly, he will not be in the mood for celebrations tonight.

paul nods slowly, pressing his lips into a thin line. "right."

the silence that follows is so awkward you can't help but chew on your bottom lip, a tiny sigh escaping through your mouth. he must be hating this, you think – today is supposed to be only a good day for him, he shouldn't have his ex's new relationship pushed up in his face.

"well, i have a debrief to get to," you make up, flashing him a quick smile. "congrats again, paul."

"thank you." he gives you another nod, before turning away and making his way towards the paddock. "pepe will text you!"

and just like that, he's off, and your mind wanders to the thought of actually going out to celebrate. ollie will definitely not join you, though you're not sure why you don't want to go without him. is it because you'd rather stay and comfort him?

or is it because you're scared of what you'll do, or feel, when you're alone with paul for the first time since you broke up?

"p5 is still good, my dear." your mom's voice booms out from the speakers of your phone as you drop it onto the desk, and you can't help but let out a sigh, taking a step back.

"of course, but... i feel like i could've done more." it was both true and not; with paul's five-second penalty, you definitely could've gained at least one more position if only you had stayed within that gap. but then again, a fifth position and ten more points was a great result for a rookie.

"but you'll still be going out to celebrate with your friends, right?"

you ended up telling pepe you weren't in the mood to party, despite his persistent complaints, and decided to instead use the evening for relaxation and recovery. your entire body, especially your neck, has really suffered this weekend – you were already sore after the shakedown, but this is on another level – so a bubble bath and a good night's sleep in your hotel room seemed like a much better choice.

"no, i'm just going to rest a little..." you hum, flopping down on the chair by the desk. "maybe grab something to eat with ollie."

weirdly enough, you haven't been able to get in contact with him all evening. you were told that he hurried back to his hotel room right after the race, not in the mood to talk to anyone on the team at all, so you chose to give him some time alone to cool down before you'll eventually go over there. still, you thought he would've answered at least one of your many texts by now.

thinking about your boyfriend, you suddenly remember something. "hey, mum?" she lets out an affirmative sound. "you remember when i was home last time, and dad said something about ollie and the car? and he acted all weird?" you pause for a moment, but when she doesn't say anything, you keep going. "what was that all about?"

"well darling, we..." you take the sudden silence as a sign that she might not be sure how honest she wants to be right now, and it makes you frown instinctively. she sighs. "we're just a little worried about him, that's all."

your confusion only grows. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"we're worried he's feeling too pressured to impress us." you hear her take a deep breath. "of course, your father is his boss, so it is natural in that way. but we wish he would just see us as any regular parents. he's always talking about racing like there's nothing else in the world, and..."

"that's not fair." you shake your head despite the fact that she can't see it. "that isn't him. he isn't all racing and no fun."

"oh love, i'm sure he is loads of fun, but-"

"i really have to go," you cut her off, standing from your seat. "talk to you later."

you hang up before she can even answer, the guilt in your head from treating your mother like that already pushed away by the anger growing inside of you.

you always assumed your parents loved ollie. sure, you knew they adored having paul over when you were still a couple, too, but ollie is every mother-in-law's dream son. he's from your country, he's a pure sweetheart, he's even in the fda for god's sake. how could they not love him?

and so what if he tries to impress them? who wouldn't do the same?

when ollie opens his door for you, he looks like he's just woken up from a bad night's sleep. bed head, bags under his eyes, and just a general aura of tiredness. if you didn't know better, you'd think he was an insomniac. but thinking back to how badly his race went, the sight of him just makes your stomach churn.

your arms wrap around his neck in an instant, pulling him into your warm embrace. you feel the tension in his upper back release right away, and ollie's hands find your sides, giving you a light squeeze. you refrain the urge to pull away when he nuzzles his nose into your neck, standing strong against your usual ticklishness, and your heart softens slightly when he lets out a deep sigh into your skin.

"you okay?" you finally manage to get out, and his answer comes in the form of a nod against your shoulder. "is there anything i can do for you?"

he pulls away but stays so close that you feel his breath against your face; so close that you're both slightly cross-eyed when your gazes meet. "stay with me?"

your answer is expressed through the fleeting kiss you press to his lips, your way of saying of course. ollie doesn't waste any time pulling you into his hotel room, and you flop down onto the bed with him. he sits up and watches you lie down against the covers, your head nestling into the pillow. "tell me about your race," he says as he reaches down to take your hand, his fingers slipping in between yours. "eight positions gained, huh?"

of course he doesn't want to talk about his own race. but the fact that he's willing to think about racing at all, just to let you have a chance to talk about how well you did and boast a little; it all makes your heart flutter.

and you're sure, you're so sure that he is so much more than just a racing driver. he's not what your parents think he is. he's an incredible racer, sure, but he's also the sweetest man you've ever met. the perfect boyfriend.

even when he's feeling like this, he takes his time to still pay attention to you and ask questions. and then he listens, he really listens, because he wants to understand every inch of your mind just as well as he geeks out about every detail of apexes and tyre degradation. and then he says just the right things, the things to sweep you off your feet yet again.

he's so perfect that he's incredibly easy to love.

so why is there a knot in your stomach at the thought of the race – and more specifically, the person on the last step of the podium?

why does your mind keep running back to how he's celebrating, and what it would be like if you'd been there with him?

yourusername just posted!

yourusername double pookie podiums & good points in the bag! thanks camposracing for a great car ❤️ we go again in a week!

show all 81 comments

user top job this weekend!!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user i will stop hating on red bull if either of these get into f1

→ user red bull juniors >>> anyone else

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user what happened to ollie though 😭

→ user it's just the first round, calm your horses

→ user why always bring up ollie on her posts... is that all she is, ollie's gf? 😐

→ user forreeaaalll

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

redbulljuniorteam y/n and pepe making us proud 🥺

→ user pls admin you're making me cry

→ yourusername me too 😭

[anatheapple]

Okay, so this is an idea I’ve had floating around in my head for awhile now as a DPxDC crossover! However, I acknowledge that my DC knowledge is still a bit lacking, but hear me out though!

So, Jason was raised by Willis & Cathy/Catherine Todd, who he believed to be his birth parents, right? Unfortunately, for him, that’s only half right as his birth mother wasn’t Cathy, but a Dr. Sheila Haywood (who betrays him to Joker & gets him killed). However, while Cathy did raise Jason as her son, imagine if she actually did have a biological child with Willis, but sent him away?? And this child maybe got adopted by a pair of crazy Ghost Scientists with a child of their own already?

I imagine, in this scenario, Jason might’ve found both his and Danny’s birth certificates at the same time, instead of just his own! Gives him some more conflict during this time when Bruce has benched him as Robin & he now finds out he has a half brother somewhere out there and his bio mom is (possibly) still alive! So many fun plots to explore! Maybe he chooses to not find Danny, as he believes this life is too dangerous and doesn’t want to drag him in? Or, maybe, that’s the first person he wants to find! The last biological piece of Catherine, the mother who loved and raised him as her own! (Also, imagine the feelings Danny would feel about his birth mother giving him away but raising Jason instead??)

But even more tragically… imagine Jason and Danny both kick the bucket within a year of each other… like, Danny would have to be younger than Jason, but depending on how you have the timelines line up, they could both have their deaths happen pretty soon after each other!

The angst Jason would feel after finding out his brother died and came back like he did?? (Well, kinda, depends if you view Ectoplasm and Lazarus Water as the same/similar.) That he also is forever changed and put through hell because of their “accidents”?? Maybe he could’ve saved Danny if he tried harder to look for him. Maybe he could’ve saved them both! Imagine his conflict when being reunited!

Anyways, that’s the main details I’ve come up with for this idea, so I hope it makes sense! Don’t know if someone has already written something like this (if so, please share with me 🙏). But I don’t think I’ll actually write anything with this but I needed it out there and out of my head! (Also, I’m not on here often so idk how this app works, hope the right people find this & enjoy it. If you know me irl, no you don’t.)

[rachelfloof]

Caramel Arrow being Dark Cacao’s daughter is a bad headcanon.

I’ve been keeping this to myself for a long time, but there are so many things about this headcanon that bother me, both obvious and less obvious things. There’s certain things about it that I’m surprised people don’t consider and don't realize. I can tolerate it because I can totally understand why people would hc this, but the more I thought about it, the more problems I found with it. I feel like they need to finally be pointed out because, in my opinion, this headcanon does not deserve the popularity it has.

Before I start explaining my thoughts, I want to emphasize that this is JUST MY OPINION. you DO NOT have to change your own opinion after reading this. These are simply my PERSONAL thoughts on this, and you DO NOT have to agree with me. Also, if you DO agree, I DO NOT condone sending hate to or attacking those who disagree with me and/or continue to use this headcanon.

The family headcanon directly conflicts with Caramel Arrow’s character in two major ways. The first is in regard to her ancestors. Following in her ancestors footsteps and honoring their legacy is one of Caramel Arrow’s main motivations. Caramel Arrow currently has one piece of cutscene art, depicting her praying to her fallen ancestors, as well as several quotes where she mentions defending the kingdom, just like her ancestors did (1 star promotion quote). If Dark Cacao is her father, then what ancestors is she talking about? because I know damn well it’s not Mystic Flour.

The only way this headcanon works without conflicting with the canon is if you ship Dark Cacao with a mortal who has a long history of serving the Dark Cacao kingdom (like the Second Watcher, for example). Despite this, Caramel Arrow being biologically related to Dark Cacao in any way brings up the second major issue and, in my opinion, the most damaging issue.

Caramel Arrow’s loading screen trivia states, "Caramel Arrow Cookie became the First Watcher at a young age…" Which is something I feel like has to be one of Caramel Arrow’s biggest achievements in her life. First Watcher is a really highly esteemed role; she’s essentially the top general of Dark Cacao’s most elite troops. Therefore, she likely had to work really hard to be able to become First Watcher, especially at so young.

However, with the added context of Dark Cacao being her father, I feel that it heavily reduces the gravity of this achievement. Dark Cacao is the king; he could’ve easily been biased in Caramel Arrow’s favor when deciding who to make First Watcher since she’d be his daughter. Dark Cacao’s kid being in such a high position at such a young age makes the earning of that role seem like a blatant display of nepotism.

Yesss, why not add taking away positions from people who actually deserve it more to the list of reasons why Dark Cacao is a bad person? /s

By making Caramel Arrow seem more undeserving of her position, you’re essentially weakening the strong woman character. Turning her from “hard-working girl boss” into “daddy’s girl.”

Speaking of Dark Cacao being a bad person, Dark Cacao treating Caramel Arrow like a daughter makes him look even worse when you factor in what he did to Dark Choco. So essentially, what’s happening is that Dark Cacao emotionally neglects Dark Choco while at the same time treating his younger child with the love that Dark Choco originally deserved.

All of the previously mentioned problems go away if you just interpret Dark Cacao and Caramel Arrow’s relationship for what it is. Which is NOT BIOLOGICALLY RELATED. By making them family, you’re heavily simplifying her character; her motivations for standing by the king and the prince go from “this is my sworn duty, and I want to honor my ancestors.” to “oh, it’s because the royal family is my family too.” So it makes her motives seem more like an empty obligation and expectation rather than something she’s worked for and voluntarily committed to because she’s genuinely just that passionate and dedicated about the homeland that her ancestors have fought and died for over generations.

The only way this headcanon works is if Caramel Arrow becomes Dark Cacao’s daughter AFTER everything is said and done with her becoming First Watcher and Dark Choco taking the sword. Which can only really happen if you ship Dark Cacao x Second Watcher or Dark Cacao x Dark Cacaoian OC while having the two characters fall in love AFTER Dark Choco leaves, making Caramel Arrow his stepdaughter. Or if you headcanon Caramel Arrow as his ADOPTED daughter rather than biological, of course with the adoption happening after Dark Choco leaves.

Even then, Dark Cacao adopting his First watcher after everything already happens would just be super random and weird. That’s like if a worker climbs the ranks in the company they work at, becomes COO, and then the CEO just decides to adopt their COO because they become close. Based on the Cookies of Darkness flashback, Caramel Arrow would likely be a full-grown adult by the time Dark Choco leaves with the sword, so Dark Cacao adopting this grown woman would just be kind of weird and unnecessary.

Despite everything I just said, Dark Cacao CAN still see Caramel Arrow like a daughter, and Caramel Arrow CAN still see Crunchy Chip like a brother WITHOUT any of them actually being on each other’s family tree. They can just have a close platonic relationship with each other where they kind of see each other as like a second family, except, of course, they’re not actually related. Rather, they're almost like a family-like friend group or in other words, a friend group with a family-like bond.

This is the end of my little ramble, in case you forgot about the disclaimer at the top, this is just my opinion. Re-read the disclaimer in big red text if you need to. you don't need to agree with me. and I hope everyone has a good day. <3

Also, remember to never be a hater to anyone, hating is cringe ngl.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hey! could i get an imagine/oneshot fluff nsfw Daemon x fem!reader where they are married and have a very good, even envied relationship (they totally trust each other and are complicit in everything) but the reader is extremely (at exorbitant levels indeed) touch hungry and soooo needy for him, (but not in a bad way) with a lot of fluff please? (sorry for my english)

Ten & One

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: As the 11th child out of 14 kids, all you knew was chaos. The pros of being one of the youngest from such a big family meant most of the duties were already fulfilled by your elder siblings, and yet the unavoidable con of having to marry well still lingered. So one can only imagine how wild your house was when you first brought home the Targaryen prince as your husband. It's even worse now that the endless supply of children hailed them as their new playmate.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: the way I said this would be short 🤡, smut (impregnation kink, praise kink, choking, riding, oral [f receiving], vaginal penetration), trash talking older sisters (trust me), fem!reader, wife!reader, so so so many kids, soft!daemon, scared by kids!daemon HAHA, girl dad energy!daemon, reader has baby fever ig, flufffffffff, typos, etc.

A/N: YO IVE NEVER WRITTEN A REQUEST SO FAST I THINK yeah so this turned into.... whatever this is. it started out with when I thought of a conflict for the prompt, but then it spiraled like it always does. 🤠 I hope you like it though nonnie!!! And don't even worry about your english. i still cant spell after all the years ive spoken it. 😪 we bilinguals gotta stick together Here's kinda a part 2 to it "Mine"!!!!

In all his years of life, Daemon faced an immense volume of angst, treachery, death, and pain. He was far from a coward and did not even waver under the gaze of dragons. Yet as he sat in the middle of a what he realized was a sacrificing room, only then did he know true fear.

They were surrounding him, filthy, loud, concerning moist-

"Why the fuck are your hands wet, Silas?" Daemon cringed as he grabbed the red haired toddler's hand before it landed on his cheek.

One of the nannies present in the nursery looked to the other and exchanged knowing and amused looks.

One blonde haired boy began to cry as one brown haired boy yanked the toy from his hand. Daemon turns, instinctively needing to hush the child, that was until the brunette begins to cry as well, because a raven haired boy steals the toy he had stolen.

The nannies don't even need to go to the crying kids as one of the older children present, their sister, Daemon thinks, worked to calm them down.

The twin brother of the boy in Daemon's grip with the same burning red hair looked over to whom spoke from the other side of the room, halting his game with his much, much younger brother inside the crib he was not supposed to be in. Silas' lips purse into a soft thoughtful line, brows furrowing against each other as he looks to his small palms, "my hands are not wet, uncle!"

The boy says this in such a sweet tone, with not hint of malice, that Daemon actually feels bad for cursing.

Upon catching where the boy was, one of the nannies move to remove him from the crib. It's futile though, the moment the woman is distracted with the other children, he climbs right back in.

Silas' twin, Oliver, the one with the actual wet hand, vindicates his brother by slapping the prince's lips with his free one, "don't say bad words!"

Daemon looks at the child-he-did-not-know-the-name-of. His only thought was at least the hand that slapped to his face wasn't wet.

"Go to your mother," Daemon commands.

Had it been anyone else, it would have struck fear in them, but the child does not recognize the threat at all, especially not when three of his female cousins come running to Daemon, making the man himself reel back in some semblance of fear.

It seems they finally found the comb and clips they needed to fix his hair with.

Fuck.

"PRINCE UNCLE!" one girl excitedly screams, shooing Oliver from away from Daemon. Oliver gleefully runs towards his darker haired cousins and engage in combat with pillows.

One nanny promptly scolds them when feathers explode everywhere.

Rebecca, or so he thinks that's her name, grins as she makes her way to Daemon's lap. Her older sister, Annaliese (?), runs behind him. The youngest among the three, Constance, he knew, sat on the other side of his lap next to her cousin.

All at once, Rebecca throws her curly, golden-brown locks behind her, making it splash against Daemon's face, adding to injury when her elbow hits the prince' jaw. Annaliese rips at Daemon's scalp, undoing the tie he had in his own silver-white hair, causing a groan to leave his lips. Constance bounces up and down Daemon's lap as she wraps her small arms around his torso and looked up at him with an adoring look.

Verdict, Daemon didn't know what to feel.

Meanwhile.

"Oh, I honestly thought you'd have kids by now!" my eldest sister, Elise nudges me, "with how hotly your prince eyes you-"

"You should have come back pregnant," our fifth born sibling, Catherine, cuts in scolding me, "I already bragged about your fertile womb to those stupid, big mouthed ladies at court."

"Sissy!" I cry out.

"They fucking deserved to be put in their place," Catherine growls, "don't they know how many children our mother sired?" she scoffs, "the audacity of those rats to call you barren just because you haven't gotten pregnant after a few months of marriage."

Elise rolls her eyes, "they're just jealous because their breast milk comes out like sand."

My jaw drops.

"Their cunts are probably drier than sandpaper," Catherine says in agreement.

Our youngest sibling, Gretta, and the only other girl amongst our siblings, makes a face and tries to halt the vulgar insults by telling me, "they're probably just jealous you snagged the prince and they didn't."

"Probably?!" Elise quips.

Catherine throws her head back in laughter, "those smelly cunts are maddened by the very idea."

My older sisters begin to fall into more trash talk. Gretta and I exchange knowing looks and take each other's hand before slowly walking away.

After we flee, I decide I am wholly ready to leave my house and all it's chaos.

"My love, I'm ready to- oh," my perky voice falls in shock when I see my husband's hair tangled up in multiple clips and ribbons. It seems the sneaky girls also got their hands on a bit of rouge, judging by the smeared red on his face.

"AUNTIE LOOK!" Frances (Rebecca) cries in joy as she stood beside her captive, affectionately hugging him, "WE MADE PRINCE UNCLE SO PRETTY!"

"FRANCES, DON'T!" Bethany (Annaliese) scolds her younger sister when she messes up her work, "YOU'RE RUINING MY RIBBONNNNNSSSS!"

"Girls, please, your cousin is asleep!" Daemon scolds weakly, cradling the little girl, Constance, in his arms.

Frances looks down on her cousin, "Oh," she leans down, "prince uncle, I can carry her into the crib if you like."

Daemon turns to Frances, bringing a finger to her face, stroking her cheek sweetly, "I'll do that myself," he turns to the other girl, "if," he drags out, "my lady sets me free."

Bethany takes Daemon's hollow cheeks into her warm hands. Daemon smiles at the sight of her gleaming eyes.

My lips pull into a pout and my hear soars at their exchange.

Bethany, then nodding to herself, turns to Frances, "we did good, sister!"

Frances squeals yet again, nearly choking Daemon as she embraces him tightly.

"Frances!" I finally intervene, amused face falling into concern, "you will behead the poor man at this point."

Frances turns to the said man and releases him slowly. Daemon catches his breath, smiling at the girl, impressed by her strength. He finally stands and brings Constance to the occupied crib where Silas and a baby he-did-not-know were napping.

Frances runs over to me, arms snaking around my skirt as much as her little limbs could, "auntie," she coos, "will you be staying for supper?"

I steal a look at Daemon who is now rubbing his face, unknowingly ruining the rouge he must have forgot he had on. This promptly triggers Bethany as she falls to her knees and mourns her craft, shrieking so loudly she could probably wake the dead.

Daemon, in his panic, promptly picks the girl up, like one would a bag, then runs out of the room, as not to make trigger the rest of the kids into similar shrieks. I watch as Bethany dangles horizontally by her torso in my husband's strong arm as she weeps into her hands.

I finally turn back to Frances after Daemon leaves the room, "sorry, little bug. Your prince uncle and I have to leave now if we wish to return to our home before dark."

Frances pouts at that. I lean down and kiss the girl's nose before leaving her in the nursery with the rest of the kids and their nannies.

I find Daemon in the hall, handing his weeping niece to her teenage brother, who was biting his lip for dear life, trying to hold back his laughter. He makes sure not to forfeit a dirty look at Thomas, but that does not hinder the giggles that still manage to escape his mouth.

Thomas walks away, carrying his sister in her arms, shushing her as he giggled.

Daemon jolts, hand instinctively reaching out for the absent sword in his belt when I come up to him with a grin. He melts against my touch when my thumbs begin to wipe away the redness on his face.

He pulls me close to him by my waist, hands rubbing my back to soothe me, though he actually does so to soothe himself. I giggle, "you would make a fine father."

"They make me eager to pull out," he notes, closing his eyes.

I lightly slap his cheek in a scolding manner.

I was still not done evening out the color on his face when he pushes past me and crushes me into an exasperated embrace, "I thought once I wanted many children after growing up with only one brother," he strokes my hair as he bends down and nuzzles on my neck, "now I cannot even bare the idea of having one."

I scrunch my face in distaste, "I will not be left childless, husband," I begin to take notice of the paraphernalia in his hair, "but," I decide to tease, "if you will not have me, then I shall ma-"

He squeezes me in his arms, lifting me up, causing me to squeak, "who says I will not have you?"

"My prince," a servant calls, making me crane my neck over to whom spoke.

Daemon begrudedly pulls away, giving the man an uninterested expression with a voice that matches, "yes?"

The prince's face contort tighter in annoyance when the servant's face tenses in reaction to what he saw. I see how his lips fight back laughter and the whole incident make me break into a giggle.

Daemon is wholly unamused, and shows it to the servant boy in particular, "it will hurt no less if I slit your throat in this moment," he barks, stepping forward without hesitation.

The servant flinches back.

I bring my hand up to his chest, giving him an annoyed look, "Daemon please."

He clenches his jaw and grips his hands but does not take another step.

"The boat is ready for you and your lady wife," the servant quickly tells, promptly bowing then rushing away.

"You should have let me bruised him at least," Daemon says scornfully.

I roll my eyes at his pouty face, "come now," I say working on removing the clips in his hair, "we must leave before Bethany sees your hair without her embellishments."

Daemon's brows knit as he looks down on me, "who's Bethany?"

The moment we arrive to our home, I finally feel the effects of entertaining the many members of my house the whole day.

I am unbelievably tired when I finally lie in bed in my favorite night gown. I am in fact too tired to even rise from my place and pull the covers over me.

"Pretty girl," I hear him before I see him. In fact I feel his hand climbing up my thigh before I see his face.

I lift my head up along with a brow as Daemon climbs up next to me only in his breeches. I lick my lips at the sight of his exposed skin and clean face. His mouth meets the skin beneath his hands.

"I thought you were exhausted, husband?"

He only hums as he positions himself between my legs, "never too tired for a good fuck, wife."

I allow my head to fall back on the bed as I laugh. I encourage him to do as he pleases when my hand scratches lightly at the roots of his freshly washed hair. Daemon kisses my supple flesh as he lifts my thighs over his shoulders.

He takes his time teasing me, lips gnawing at my skin. I release a sigh and rest my hands to my side, "you know my sisters were cross that I was not pregnant."

He chuckles, pushing my short skirt up, "I'm sure they were."

I moan when his lips meet my core. My body ignites after this.

I grip at the sheets when I feel his tongue dart out. I let out a breath, basking in the sensation. A thought however lands in my head and I cannot stop from asking it, "do you think perhaps something is a matter?"

Daemon stills, head rising from where it was tucked.

I, myself, rise on my elbows and pout, the expression further concerns the face between my legs. It however fades once I say, "maybe we're doing something wrong when we share company."

Daemon rolls his eyes, "you can just ask me to fuck you harder."

I yelp when his face sinks and he nibbles on my sensitive nub. I moan out his name like gospel, and as much as I don't want it to end, I wriggle in his grasp when I think of something else I need to say.

He uses his strength to force me still, wanting nothing but to devour me. I nearly cave and halt my actions, but I catch his attention when I whine his name out in a plea, "Daemon stop."

He is utterly irritated by this, "what is it now?"

I pout in annoyance, "maybe it's because you're too rough!"

Daemon rolls his eyes yet again.

"Daem-" I whine when his lips begin to move against me again, "think about it!"

Daemon's had enough.

He shoves my legs off him and heaves angrily. I move to sit up and give my husband a cautious look. He however manages to get on his knees and quickly yanks me back down, "shall I give you a lesson, my naïve little wife?"

I purse my lips together as he crawls over me, "I am not naïve. I am only saying that-"

Daemon sighs as he undoes his pants.

"- don't you think I should have been pregnant by now -"

He manages to rip them down while hovering over me.

"- considering how often you bed me?"

He throws his clothes off to the side and pulls my legs apart. We simultaneously moan when he enters me and I bring my hands to his nape, digging my nails into his skin.

Daemon presses a kiss on my lips as he adjusts my legs around him.

I expect him to give me a talking as he pounds into me, but I am only met with stillness and silence. And as much as I love the feeling of him in me like this, I begin to get impatient, "well?"

Daemon chuckles, "I'm teaching you a lesson, wife."

I narrow my eyes at him.

He relishes the deviant expression. He bucks his lips slowly, drawing out a moan from me. Daemon is utterly pleased.

He kisses my neck, hands going to my sides, "if you think my fucking is why you haven't fallen with child-"

I yelp when he quickly spins and rips me over him. I brace myself, hands ending up on his chest. I shift above him, making the both of us groan.

Daemon rubs my arms affectionately, taking in how the loose nightgown wrapped on my body. He fiddles with the lace, "fuck yourself on me then."

For a moment, his words make my belly roll in a wave of hot desire. But something else dawns on me when I see Daemon's hooded eyes. I break into a chuckle, he groans out as a consequence to it, "you're just tired, aren't you?"

His eyes darken. I chuckle yet again. I no longer laugh when he flicks his hips into to me roughly, "fucking move."

I hiss and lean into him, shooting him a glare of my own.

Unappreciative of my disobedience, he grabs my hips and glides me the opposite way of his thrusts, "if you do not move, I'll leave you restless and come all over your pretty face."

I whine at obscene notion.

"You wouldn't want my seed to go to waste, now, would you?" he croons, "don't you want me to get you pregnant?"

I moan as I push myself up and grab on his wrists, following his movements with my own thrusts.

He hisses, melting at my actions. Eventually he is still beneath me as I bounce on him. He praises me for finally listening, "that's it," he exhales, "up and down like a good girl."

I mewl at the sound of his deep voice. He digs at the sides of waist when I quicken my pace. At some point, he is unable too hold back from snapping himself into me. He groans as he does so and I reposition myself, allowing him to reach my sweet spot. I nearly drool when he does. I rip at my lower lip with my teeth and release a guttural sound, "Daemon."

He grunts, "yes, my love." His hands sneak under my dress and rubs my bare skin, "you're doing so good. Such a sweet, pretty girl."

I feel his hands on my belly. I roll my head back when his thumb circles on my wet nub.

His fingers dig into me, "you'll look so pretty carrying my child," he grunts, "mmm, fuck, always so ready for me."

My hands climb to his neck when he says this and I screw my eyes shut focusing on the feeling of him sliding in and out of me.

"Fuck," he drawls, absolutely aroused by the pressure on his throat, "harder," he commands.

Daemon awaits the added pressure but curses when there is none. He calls out my name, making me look down at him. I release a gasp when his hands press down on mine as he repeats, "harder, pretty girl."

I bite my lip and nod, constricting my hands on his throat just a fraction.

It seems to be enough as Daemon releases string of profanities before his hands come back to my hips. He pulls his legs up behind me and fucks into me with a renewed sense of vigor.

My voice bounces the same way my body does. I'm pretty sure I don't even move anymore as Daemon does all the work of slamming into me.

"Fuck, Daemon, don't stop," I whine, as I regain the brain to move against him.

Our own bed whines in distress over actions. The entire room is filled with lewd noises.

It's all a matter of time before it's all over.

I find myself pressing down on him when I come with a loud cry. I release such a breathy shudder that after, I lose my breath. I dig my fingers into his shoulders when I feel him follow after me the next second. I absolutely revel in the heat he burns into me, at the idea I could be carrying his seed soon.

Daemon's hands are ripping roughly at my flesh so hard, I practically feel them bruise. I couldn't care less though.

Yelps and moans continue to leave my lips up until we both crash against each other.

I gasp when I hear Daemon pant heavily after I release him from my grip. He is heaving for literal dear life.

"Daemon, are you alright?" I whine in concern.

He looks lightheaded and yet his lips curve into a smirk, "don't worry, my love, I'm more than alright."

I let out a sight of relief, pressing a kiss on his jaw. I rub my hands onto his face, his own rake my dress up and down my back.

"I do hope I get you pregnant this time," he mutters, pulling me close to press a kiss on my forehead, "I will not stop until I do." He rubs his cheek against my head, "we should go again for good measure."

I grunt at the thought at maneuver off him.

He growls, pressing a kiss on whatever he could get his lips on, unwilling to release me.

"Daemon," I warn emptily.

"What?" he mutters, finding my neck. He licks my skin before biting down, "you enjoy this."

I moan and push him off, "that's the point! You're tired."

When I'm off him, laying to his side, he chuckles darkly and climbs over me.

"Daemo-"

"I'm never too tired for a good fuck."

[more-mara]

Omg what tag is that. My favorite writer matching my freak.

Cockwarming Oscarmark 🫣 Oscar being horny and Mark’s like yeah if u want it that much then don’t let him come! Oops who said that.

Erm…anyways 🫶

Mark knew that morally this was wrong. That fucking a guy half your age who you're supposed to be managing was somewhat a conflict of interest but Oscar was addictive- so beautiful and pliant as he lay under Mark, cock hanging heavy between his legs as he got fucked within an inch of his life. Soft moans falling from his lips with every harsh thrust as he begged for release, eyes a little glassy and unfocused. Mark was only a weak man, who could blame him with such a sight underneath him.

But Oscar was, for lack of a better word, insatiable. It felt like he was horny all the time and maybe Mark was just getting old, his body not cut out to go at it for three rounds anymore despite how beautiful and compelling Oscar looked every time he begged for Marks cock.

It was often that Mark would get cornered in the garage, have Oscar leaning in to whisper something nasty in his ear before looking at him with big innocent doe eyes as if he hadn’t just asked if Mark would fuck him over his car despite the rather large number of engineers around them. Or sometimes, after a good race, Oscar wouldn’t give Mark a choice, would just show up at his hotel with a condom and a bottle of lube and bend over the nearest piece of furniture- stretching himself with careful fingers as Mark watched on, mouth agape as he wondered for the millionth time how he, of all people was able to bag a gorgeous 23 year old who, all consumingly wanted him.

Mark often wondered if he was even able to give Oscar what he wanted, his body was not as spry and flexible as it used to be and sex had become something more like a workout- he couldn’t fuck Oscar the same way he would have been able to if he was 20 years younger.

“Mark, I did well, didn’t I?” Oscar asked, and the question was innocent enough but the glint in Oscar’s eyes as he leaned in to rest his chin on Marks shoulder was an indication otherwise.

“Yes…you did,” Mark said suspiciously, not taking his attention away from the television as he tried to ignore the weight of Oscar’s dainty hand as it came to rest on his thigh.

“Don’t I deserve a reward? For driving so good?” Oscar asked, his voice sultry in tone as he placed a small kiss on Marks neck. Mark sighed, closing his eyes momentarily to try and steady himself.

“Hm, maybe you do,” Mark replied, still not looking at Oscar who was starting to squirm a little where he sat, clearly riled up- desperate to be fucked.

“I fingered myself already, you wanna take me? You can just slide right in, I’ve already done the hard part,” Oscar said, his voice quiet but steady and Mark didn’t bother to argue that the hard part for him was the actual sex- particularly when Oscar only ever wanted it rough, moaning ‘faster’ or ‘harder’ despite Mark pounding him as fast as he could.

“Mark, please,” Oscar whined impatiently, ghosting his hand over Marks crotch. Mark could feel his cock twitching in interest as Oscar placed another sloppy kiss on his neck.

“If you want it so bad, come and take it,” Mark grunted, watching as Oscar scrambled to remove both his own and Marks jeans, exposing Marks now half hard cock. Oscar clambered into his lap, all limbs as his ass started to grind down on Marks cock. Mark let out an oof as Oscar sat down on him with force. He gave a sheepish apology before guiding the leaking tip of Marks cock to his already stretched hole.

The picture as he sank down was something so beautiful that mark was sure he could die right now and be content, watching as Oscar’s face scrunched up as he took him inch by inch, sweet little moans falling from his reddened lips. Once Oscar had take his full length, he lay his head on marks shoulder, panting heavily with a small whine as he got used to the stretch. Mark felt when Oscar’s thighs started to flex- an indication that he was ready to move. Hands were gripping Oscar’s waist immediately, holding him down on his cock.

“M-mark?,” Oscar stuttered, both confused and incredibly turned on from being held down on Marks length.

“Stay still, my good boy,” Mark whispered, holding him firm. Oscar wriggled in his hold, grinding himself down on marks cock. Mark tutted at him which halted the younger boys movements immediately.

“Mark?” He questioned again, his beautiful brown eyes misting with lust as he stared at Mark, in all his gorgeous glory.

“My boy, my beautiful beautiful boy,” Mark whispered as he dragged a hand along Oscar’s jaw- Oscar leaned into the touch, his eyes slipping closed.

“Please, Mark, want you to fuck me,” Oscar said, eyes still screwed closed as his thighs shifted a little- cramp starting to build in them.

“If you can sit here and not cum, I’ll give you what you need,” Mark said and Oscar had to bite down his moan of complaint- he knew mark wouldn’t change his mind, the stubborn old man.

Oscar breathed in deep, settling himself into Marks hold as he huddled into his chest, his face in Marks neck. Marks arms wrapped around him, cuddling him close.

“That’s my boy,”

[waywardsou2]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ General Bad Batch Head Canons ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Hunter

He was secretly always jealous of Cut getting to settle down, have a life, a family, getting away from all the war and bloodshed. Hunter had wanted that but never thought it was possible

Hunter cried, fully cried to himself the night after Crosshair, despite everything that had just happened on Kamino, had still chosen the Empire over his brothers. Despite all he had seen on the battlefield all of the people he had failed to save, nothing hurt more than losing his brother.

When he was young, and ever since then Hunter has only ever let his brothers trim his hair. And he helps them cut theirs too. Hunter is very particular about his hair being a certain length and usually only trims his hair a few inches at best.

Hunter's face tattoo is actually to cover a birthmark. His other brothers (not the batch) used to tease him about it when they were cadets. He eventually got the tattoo to cover it up. These days he regrets it and doesn't understand why he folded to their teasing but he's still happy with it anyway. He doesn't regret the tattoo perse more the reason he felt the need to get it in the first place

Wrecker

Wrecker got Lula from a kid he helped on Ryloth when the Separatists were attempting to invade the planet, he loved it and was very attached to the toy. But he knew how important it was to the kid and he kept it with him for years until he gave it to Omega. He thought it made sense to give it to her, a young kid he had helped gave it to him and now he had passed it on to the next kid who needed it

Wrecker used to place fake bombs or stink bombs under his brother's bunks as pranks. He was always so obvious whenever he was doing this because he would be over-eager and giggle to himself, but he did manage to jump his brothers a few times with the prank

When Wrecker was caught in a bombing accident that messed up his eye and scared his face, he had a hard time adjusting to the way he looked, he didn't recognize part of himself now. And he especially hated when his hair didn't grow back the same way, and because of that he decided to shave it all off and continue to keep his head bald

In addition to that I think that when Wrecker was younger, he had hair a similar length to Hunter, and he liked it, despite the Kaminoans telling him to cut it several times. He does miss his hair at times, but he does like it better without hair hindering him.

Tech

Techs goggles function the same as prescription glasses, he's actually far sighted, this is why his helmet was built to fit around his goggles because he basically cannot see without them

(less of a head canon more of a canon fact with my personal twist) Tech is the youngest of his brothers but he was the quickest to mature and grow, which he likes reminding them about constantly.

(this one is gonna hurt, sorry in advance) When he fell off of the rail car into the ravine below, he didn't instantly but have some very fatal wounds and wasn't far off, Hemlock and his men found him and Hemlock took his goggles from off of his dying body and left. Leaving his men to dispose of him (I don't know what my mind was thinking when I wrote this, I guess I just love angst too much)

Tech had feelings for Phee but he never knew if she was being polite or flirting with him. He never said anything about it to her or his brothers because he figured that there was never going to be a time for him to ever act on those feelings so he never did anything about them.

Echo

(keep in mind I haven't seen any pre Bad Batch content of Echo so some of this stuff might conflict with his canon)

When Echo got blown up and had to have his face reconstructed he was awake for most of the procedure because if he slept or if they induced him it wasn't likely that he would wake up again, especially considering all of the damage done to his body and brain.

(Idk why but this one is super random but just feels right to me) Echo really likes butterflies, he likes the delicacy and beauty that comes from the creature's existence, the first time he saw one he was taken aback and had stopped to admire it. His Commander scolded him for getting left behind at the time

Echo used to pick at his head implants, they made him really uncomfortable and self-conscious, and his brothers used to have to stop him from damaging them and endangering himself. It was a really big issue of his for a while.

Crosshair

Crosshair's tattoo is also a cover-up for a scar, it's the right side of the crosshair that touches his nose. That line is actually a healed over scar underneath. He thought considering his nickname that the tattoo wasn't a bad idea. He was also secretly just copying his big brother Hunter, not that he would ever admit that

This guy can nap anywhere, and I mean anywhere. He doesn't sleep so he naps when he can. In trees, standing up, in the cockpit literally any where.

Adding onto the head canon from before I think Crosshair would have insomnia. But as he would do he never told the Kaminoans because he didn't want them to "fix him"

Crosshair has a nervous/general tick where he chews on his lip, he used to chew it so often that he often had cuts all over them. In place of cutting up his lips he decided to try and alternative - toothpicks. This was a good way to hide it but to still be able to tick when he needed to, plus the toothpicks were easy to access because he could collect them from the mess hall on Kamino

I realised at the end that I hadn't written any for Omega. How dare I? I promise I'll upload some soon

Hope you enjoyed these! Tell me your head canons below!

[bra1nw0rmz]

Hello!! A question for you, not in a offensive light at all but I wanna ask why you like pavlevi so much and how come it doesn't make you uncomfortable with the age gap? We don't know pavs age which is fair enough but.. You get my point! I still love em tho. Maybe I'm a bit conflicted

I’m so sorry but you made a fatal mistake of giving me an opportunity to yap about them ( but thank you for being very nice abt the question, it means a lot :3 )

Slight rant under more… tried my hardest to keep it short but I have so much to say abt these fuckass losers 😔

For the reasons why I like Pavlevi so much. It’s because they are my two favourite characters, I need to psychoanalyse them and make them trauma bond or I’ll DIE.

Levi has the solitary soul, he’s been alone for most of his life. What he seriously needs is connection. And I think most of the cast just can’t fundamentally understand him. (I’m not sure if I’m being biased and self projecting here because of my experiences being autistic but yeah 😭) And I genuinely think most of that cast would look at Levi with pity. Almost as if he can’t think for himself. And I think Levi hates it. It’s really a hard feeling to pin down, but it feels weirdly dehumanising?? Like say Karin or smth would mean well but it still feels like you’re being hang up to dry? And I think Levi fucking hates it when everyone is looking at him like that. And the pity ppl have for him comes from a place of being so disconnected from him. Most of them can’t really understand him or what he’s gone through I suppose?? It’s not their faults, it’s just how it is. Society has literally thrown him to wolves. His government striped him of his autonomy, has used him for it’s benefit and now it’s people look at him like this couldn’t have been avoided, that it’s something so sad, to be pitied. Which is also why I love pavlevi bc Pav is the only person that Levi can truely connect with. Someone else who’s gone through the same bullshit, torn apart by the same world. They are both cut from the same stone, just at different stages and coping in different ways which I think is interesting. And it’s so sad because why the hell does it have to be some Bremen fuck that actually treats him like a person and not just something to pity.

As for Pav’s side of the coin. I just really like to torture him. Due to what he’s gone through and seen, being in the army around the same age as Levi, if not younger. I feel like he’d see Levi as being fit to make his own damn decisions. It’s none of Pav’s business, Levi can do whatever and he honestly does not give a shit. But as they get closer I feel like I think Levi brings out all the guilt and shame Pav bottled up and pushed far down in his psyche. Like… he’s had to kill so many just like Levi, all to even get a chance at killing Kaiser. All of it being a glorified elaborate destructive suicide mission. And he’s very fucked up about it. Dread sets in for Pav because??? He’s a terrible person??? He’s had to wear this mask for so long, he doesn’t even know who he really is. Levi is just troubled and has been put in one unfair situation after another. Pav couldn’t move forward and purposely put himself in those situations and did those fucked up things. I also think it’s interesting to think of them as like an intimacy of convenience. Bc they both know they have no future and might die at any second, but it’s better to hold someone’s hand than be alone when you die.

Other tidbits!!

They are fucking funny, like c’mon getting bossed around by the enemy, and a LIEUTENANT on top of that, is fucking hilarious

I feel like you got this from the rant b4 but the Angst potential is crazyyyyy

Pav teasing Levi and making him all flustered, HELLOO??? I love blushy levi

Pav traversing caring for someone else that isn’t himself bc he’s fundamentally a self serving person gggghhh

IFUCKING LOVE DOOMED RELATIONSHIPS RAHHHHHHHHHHH

The way their heavily different personalities clash would be fun

Having someone there who's gone through what you've suffered through is so comforting. you're not alone anymore….. IM SICK IN THE HEAD

I think Levi should be allowed to kiss boys as a treat

I also think he should be allowed to shoot Pav in the head as a treat

As for the age gap.. I don’t like it at all ofc. 😭😭 It’s definitely not ideal. And I can 100% understand how that can be a deal breaker….. but I also feel like people baby Levi too much? He has 1 breakdown because he just got back from war, is going through heroin withdrawals, everyone in his home town has been turned into violent monsters, he’s hearing voices and someone just tried to kill him and he gets labeled a wimp. You put a guy in the worst situation ever and he cries ONCE and ppl call him a crybaby and infantilise him 💀 He’s stronger than people give him credit for… but that’s more of a problem with fandom than anything.

Also like… I tried….. I really tried to not like pavlevi….. But I’m way too fucking autistic abt them. It’s so bad that when I see them I get an adrenaline rush and do laps around my kitchen. I’m so serious. These guys are like pseudo drugs to me, I need to chop my head off.

And ofc I wouldn’t support 18 and 30 smth irl, that’s fucking gross……… And I would say the same for a stalker and her victim.. because look, I love S4marina, but it’s basically in the same boat as Pavlevi to me..

This being a fandom that should primarily be adults, I feel like ppl should understand that. Yk, having better common sense and media literacy to understand this stuff ain’t okay irl. I still realise it’s not everyone’s thing and I’m not trying to convince ppl to like it, just explain why I like it (NO ONE UNDERSTANDS THEM LIKE I DO, I NEED TO DIE)…. Anyway uuhm I understand it makes some ppl uncomfy, which is valid! Just don’t go into spaces where you’ll be exposed to it ig??? If you seriously don’t like it, the block button/blocking tags is right there. I do that too !!

[anthurak]

Something I’ve started noticing upon rewatching Unhappy Campers is that there is an interesting thematic parallel and contrast between the respective conflicts between Moxxie/Millie and Blitzo-Barbie, and how those conflicts resolve by the end of the episode:

First we have Moxxie and Millie pretending to be siblings while Blitzo and Barbie are actual siblings, setting up the parallels. Then towards the end of the episode, we have Moxxie and Millie getting into a big fight, and we learn that something bad happened in the past between Blitzo and Barbie.

And here’s where we get the interesting contrast: After the fight with Millie, Moxxie effectively immediately owns up to his mistake and fully commits to patching things up between them. Ditching everything else and wholeheartedly supporting his wife in her performance just as much as she’s supported him. And thanks to this, the pair end the episode with their bond and relationship just as strong and close as it was before.

By contrast, Blitzo’s attempts to reconnect with Barbie after what happened between them long in the past get thrown right back in his face. Making it clear that this bridge between them has been thoroughly burned by this point.

I think the implication here is that like Moxxie with Millie, Blitzo hurt his sister somehow at some point in the past. Unlike Moxxie however, Blitzo didn’t own up to his mistake and work to try and patch things up between them. At least not before their relationship deteriorated long past any hope of repair. Note also that despite his concern for and wanting to reconnect with his sister, at NO point while talking to Barbie this episode does Blitzo try to apologize or otherwise take ownership for whatever he did. Again in sharp contrast to what we see from Moxxie.

In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if it turns out that the whole conflict between Moxxie and Millie this episode is hinting at whatever happened between Blitzo and Barbie. We know that Barbie Wire was the more talented/capable performer between the two, given how she had a successful acting career while Blitzo’s own attempts crashed and burned. So I think it’s no stretch to assume that a younger Blitzo developed a petty resentment towards his sister much as Moxxie develops towards Millie in this episode.

Though I think we can also assume that what happened between Blitzo and Barbie was much BIGGER than what we saw between the M&Ms this episode. Both in terms of how long Blitzo’s resentment was festering, and in terms of WHAT he actually ended up doing. For as much of a dick Moxxie may have wound up acting this episode, he didn’t actually do anything worse than some petulant whining about it.

By contrast, I have a feeling that whatever Blitzo wound up doing to his sister, even if it wasn’t entirely intentional, was a WHOLE lot worse. I mean, something had to end Barbie’s performance career and drive her into substance abuse. How much does anyone want to bet that Blitzo was responsible for that? Certainly it was something bad enough for Barbie to cut off ALL contact with Blitzo and put as much distance between them as she possibly can.

In addition, something else that this train of thought has gotten me thinking about is how Fizzerolli might fit into all this. We know he was in the circus with Blitzo and Barbie, and from the flashbacks in the Season 2 premier, we know they’re all about the same age.

Consider: In the past, Blitzo was part of a close-knit trio with two other imps during his childhood. And in the present he is trying to form a close-knit trio with two other imps.

I don’t think it’s at all a stretch to assume that we are going to end up seeing some major thematic/dramatic parallels between the past trio of Blitzo-Barbie-Fizzerolli, and the present trio of Blitzo-Moxxie-Millie. And that Blitzo isn’t just trying to create a family dynamic with his two employees/co-workers, but specifically (consciously or otherwise) trying to recreate the family dynamic he once had. The family unit he very likely destroyed…

Consider some of the things we already know about Barb’s and Fizz’s past with Blitzo: All three were in the circus together, but both Barb and Fizz were/are clearly MUCH more talented and capable performers than Blitzo, and each went on to have successful solo careers while Blitzo’s own attempts crashed and burned.

Now, this happens to line up surprisingly well with the M&Ms: Despite his neuroses and other hangups, Moxxie is a pretty capable and skilled musician and performer, certainly way moreso than what we’ve seen of Blitzo. And from this latest episode, we know that Millie is actually a VERY talented singer and general performer herself. While we don’t know enough about Barb and Fizz to determine whether Moxxie and Millie are specifically paralleling one or the other, I think taken together the similarities line up very well.

Consider also the hints we’ve gotten that Blitzo and Fizz may have been a couple at one point, which could provide yet another parallel to the M&Ms. As well as the surprising amount of sexual tension we’ve gotten between Moxxie and Blitzo.

Now obviously, I don’t think there are going to be any straight ‘one-to-one’ parallels like Moxxie being directly paralleled to Fizzerolli or Millie being directly paralleled to Barbie. But I definitely think Vivzie and the team are setting up some kind of ‘history repeats’ narrative with Blitzo, Moxxie and Millie in order to explore and confront Blitzo’s deep-seated family trauma.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

I love Egg/chubby Aegon. I feel that it is so attractive. 😭 But hey, this morning at university I came up with a TOTALLY DISTURBING AND GROSS idea. I would love for you to accept this request and write to my tough, horny, BIG DICK Aegon together with a young wife (Helaena lives happily in the country with a man who loves her) redhead and "fragile" high on Dornish herbs begging her husband totally horrified at the idea of ​​sharing a bed with her husband's brother in the face of his lord's infertility. ‼️I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE.

I'm so sorry for my English, it's horrible.

we are the same, chubby Egg is god-tier to me 😫🥵 getting flustered just thinking of him!!

apologies this took me forever to respond to, I appreciate you sending in the request (& your English is fine) 💖 hope you enjoy x

Splendid Husband, Obedient Wife.

PAIRING: chubby!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader x Aemond Targaryen.

WORDS: 3,864.

WARNINGS: mentions of infertility, oral (female) receiving, p in v sexual intercourse, swearing, hint of cheating (?), mentions of alcohol abuse, NSFW.

A/N - gosh I hope you really like this, I got sooo carried away in the fic so apologies it turned out long, but I found my way back!!! idk why but since having a mini hiatus, I feel a little nervous writing, but here we are!! enjoy lovely x

These past few, joyous months had been memorable yet fleeting. Betrothed to the Prince himself, Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name, neither of you could've imagined how overly satisfied you would have been with each other upon meeting. Aegon was breath-taken by you the moment he caught you lonesomely wandering through the stony, ancient castle corridors, meeting you hours before the scheduled feast. You were taken aback by your husband to be, having heard viper-quick whispers, his notorious reputation preceding him, initially made you doubtful the union would survive prior to having met the man. Although, Aegon had quashed such vile allegations with much determination.

He was tender when it came matters relating to you, not wishing to cause unnecessary haste and spectacle, he was surprisingly quite grounded. If he could avoid conflict, he would, you both rarely got into arguments since he always listened to your opinions, always probing and advocating for your to speak and voice your concerns or judgements. His persona quite charming and meek with you, exterior wise, he did impose more of an oppposing effect, which also could've explained why you remained so guarded during the initial acquaintance stage. He seemed rather ruggard and rough, his Targaryen blonde hair remained short and unkempt, unlike his younger brothers. The Prince over the years had also developed a larger frame, despite having kept up with regular combat training, his gluttonous appetite to feast and drink was far more impressive, than any other young man in court. If you were being frank, it was actually appealing to you: it made him look brute, convincing you he was a force not to be reckoned with, and it seemed many shared this mutual belief, for no one dared to openly spare with Aegon in the training yard nor during council meetings.

He was rather a splendid husband, and an even more seasoned lover.

He did confess, during his youth and prior to meeting you, he did spend most of his lonely nights in the carnal company of whores and prostitutes. Hearing widespread rumours, even before your betrothal, of the Prince having sired bastards with these unknown women, you'd never come to see of any 'proof' for Aegon did not relish in speaking nor rekindling of such desolate memories.

"I was in a terrible place, my dearest. And I know, that is no valid excuse for how I acted nor carried myself, and yet I somehow ended up so lucky... With you."

He was not proud of such dark endeavours, upon thorough reflection and now being a married man devoted to his wife, Aegon was regretful of his youthful decisions. Although, during such a dark time in his life, he did not think it possible for someone to love him. To genuinely love him, without any political agenda nor catch to the arrangement. And despite, your betrothal being arranged between two highborn houses, undeniably, your love naturally blossomed like a lily in the spring.

However, unsurprisingly, people often spoke quietly, amongst themselves, yet harshly of your union. Always eager to stir the pot, and with time having passed since the exquisite marriage ceremony, the target was you.

"It has been three long months, Aegon, and your wife is still not yet with child." His discerning mother provoked: Alicent conditioned from a young age, believed this to be a serious concern that she'd often expressed amongst you three in private.

Since the viscous rumours began to spread like sprouts of weed amongst the court, Alicent had been even more persistent with her eldest son to conceive an heir with you. And although, the sex with Aegon was far from scarce, you had not yet fallen pregnant, which eventually made you anxious, as to whether your body was capable to breed. The question that poisoned your mind, was whether the culprit of infertility was Aegon, himself, or you…

“And how are we to figure this out, Aegon? For all I know, I may be the rotten spouse, useless in performing her wifely duties. They’ll have you marry another, more vibrant, more fertile lady, as you toss me aside out of sight and mind,” You tensely spat, carefully seating yourself down by the foot of the king-sized bed, your mind anxiously pondering over your dreaded future. You had an awful habit of picking and biting your nails, and Aegon had grown familiar with this, a blatant sign of distress.

Hastily he knelt before you, his large, rough hands gripped over yours, to stop you from picking at yourself, his touch halting your haste train of thought.

“We shall figure this out, my dearest. Trust… I will find a solution. You need not to worry of what others think, nor would I ever think to discard you in such a way. You are mine, as I am yours. I am bound to you till the end of time.”

A faint, half-hearted smile beams against your tender face, as you focus and cup Aegon’s portly, familiar face. To think of the possibility, that you might be the reason hindering Aegon from having children of his own, pains your heart achingly and yet, through the adversity, he remains still unfalteringly by your side. The fears settle for now, as a warm calm washes over your body, tears that had initially swelled in your eyes from sadness, now shed with the relief of joy, as you plant a soft kiss on Aegon’s forehead. You have faith in your husband, as he remains devoted to you. You trust that Aegon’s determined nature, he will find a way to give you a child, whether the Gods deemed it natural or not…

****

“Aegon, dearest, you cannot be serious? I truly hope you realise, what you are asking of me!” You frustratingly shout, as Aegon storms towards you in a haste, his hands gesturing for you to quieten down, as he takes a quick glance towards the main door, before focusing his attention solely on you.

“Y/N, you and I both know this is the only way we could ever really know if either I am the problem or there may be something hindering you from carrying. It’s either this or I sleep with another woman. And I swore even before our marriage, I would never even think to look at another... And besides, if you happen to fall with child, the resemblance would be uncanny! No one would ever know besides us three, and it shall remain that way, right brother?-”

Instinctively, both Aegon and yourself gradually turned to face Aemond, who remained silently and comfortably seated on the opposing end of the room, near the active fireplace. He seemed distracted in his own deep thoughts, as his gaze lingered across the dancing orange flames, the shadows and light perfectly outlining the sharp details and silhouette of his face. Aegon called for him again, managing to snap the younger back to reality facing your direction. A stoic look remained donned across his handsome face, although his eye remained fixated on you.

"Yes. Of course. Not a living should shall hear of such... Treason," Aemond teasingly uttered, a sly smirk appearing on his face, as he playfully fiddled with some sort of stone in his long fingers. His eye turned from Aegon, to you before resuming the direction of the flames once more. He seemed unphased and yet he did not disagree to such an unlawful scheme.

Why that was, you could not say with certainty. Perhaps this could be something he could hold over Aegon's head, which only infuriated you more. Potentially passing his bastard son as Aegon's rightful heir... It was dangerous, although the only viable option. The pressure of the realm, the tiresome burden of the expectations felt all too real these past few weeks, and this option was the only source of relief.

"And what if I do not fall pregnant, then what, Aegon? You would have no use of me, I would mean nothing to you. You have sired bastards before with unknown women, why not yet with me-"

"Don't say that-" One hand immediately stretched out reaching over towards yours that dangled hopelessly by your side, and his other reaching over towards your flustered cheek, his thumb grazing over your soft skin.

His height, although not as tall as his youngest, still towered over your polite frame. The distance now closed, you could examine the heartache struck across his face, as his glistening, lilac eyes lingered over you.

"Don't you ever speak those words again. You mean everything to me. With or without a child, Y/N, I shall love you always. You are mine. Mayhaps I have had a few children, although that was when I was young and futile, perhaps the drinking has rendered me impotent..."

You remain defeated in silence, engraining Aegon's sincere words into the core of your troubled mind, although feel another lingering gaze peering towards you. Hesitantly you turn ever so slightly towards Aemond direction, only to notice he'd been observing you both intently the entire time, his head slightly tilted in your direction, you'd caught him watching from his peripheral vision. You couldn't help but notice a sorrowful hint across his face, the smirk that had once eagerly occupied his lips, now disappeared, remaining pursed, before his eye dropped towards the view of the stony, cold floor.

"Y-You promise you'll stay with me," Your voice softly broke, as you choked against your words. Hot tears began to swell in your eyes, for you felt the guilt of betrayal fester in the pit of your stomach. Aegon would argue that this be a lesson for his past transgressions, and yet he did not disprove nor fight... He accepted what needed to be done.

"I promise, baby. It'll just be like how we always do it, okay?" His hand that cupped your face, now gently gripped your chin, as his thumb traced over your bottom lip. His sweet, upturned smile gleaming on his face, as he stroked away the few tears that managed to stream down.

"You may prepare yourself however you need to brother, I'll get her ready."

****

Aegon stayed true to his word, he mindfully eased you into the act. Wanting to warm your body up for the hopeful conception, undressing you, soothing you into the mindset to fuck.

"Such a good, good girl for me, so obedient."

He breathlessly whispered, in between each passionate kiss. His larger frame hovered atop of yours sprawled against the wide, soft bed. His trousers remained on, however his chest bare, his fleshy tummy pressed against your own, weighing you down as one hand glid gently across the sides of thigh, whilst the other supported your neck, shoving your face deeper into his as you kissed. Aegon being slightly heavier, he often succumbed to his weight, pinning himself down even more against your smaller body, and in this precise moment, you could feel his throbbing cock hardening against your exposed cunt.

"Hmm, Aegon-" You carelessly moan, the heat of your breath leaving a small, fade of moisture against his plump skin, as his lips escape yours.

He begins to leave a soft, wet trail of kisses down your neck line, making his way slowly towards the cleavage of your breasts, causing your body to eagerly shudder against his suckling motion. Hitting your sensitive spot, a small giggle escaped your lips, and moments after, you could feel Aegon's smile appearing against your skin in response.

"That's it baby, be the good girl that I know you are for me-"

As he repositioned his body further down, aligning his face towards the entrance of your now moist cunt, your gaze from the ceiling, as you opened your lustful eyes, down towards Aegon, you momentarily glimpsed as he gestured for his brother to join, tilting towards your direction.

Aemond now stripped naked, his body far more slimmer and lean than his older brother, you easily noticed the trace and outline of his prominent muscles. Although you greatly favoured Aegon's body and layer of fat that molded against his muscles, you could not deny that Aemond was a handsome figure also. It seemed the image of the Targaryens, regardless of shape nor size, were created authentically and yet so perfectly, by the favour of the Gods.

Laying himself cautiously down by your side, as though not to tease the risk of startling you, your unphased focus remained reciprocated towards each other, and yet there was no hesitation on Aemond's part, as his hand reaching over towards your face, as his long fingers gently seeped their way into the strands of your hair.

"Do not fret, Y/N. I am only here to perform my duty to the realm-"

And without a second to spare, Aemond's defined lips plummeted down against yours, where Aegon's once met. You felt that dreadful feeling beginning to entice in the depths of your stomach, an uneasy feeling churning as his tongue managed to peak its way through the gap of your mouth. Although, the sudden, reassuring squeeze of Aegon's hand in yours, as he looked up towards you, a small, warm smile reappearing on his face, your felt yourself beginning to give into the kiss.

"My sweet, sweet girl," Aegon's familiar, deep voice proclaimed, before his face began to comfortably nestle between your inner thighs. His mouth now agape at your entrance, his warm, wet tongue now began to lap at your wet folds, licking up the wetness that began to seep through, shoving himself deeper and deeper as he ate you out.

"Hmm", a low growl escaped your beloved husband's ravenous mouth, as Aegon's hands each snaked around your soft thighs, firmly pulling your legs further and further apart, in an attempt to widen the space to accomodate for his broad frame. Although he also felt the primal urge to widen your entrance more, as he delved his thick tongue deeper into your cunt, burying his face into the sensitive crevice of your wet entrance. He was known for his large appetite and that never stopped with feasts, he was always starving for your sweet, delicate taste.

As Aegon remained occupied below, Aemond found himself beginning to gain confidence and familiarity up top. Remaining by your side, slightly higher above you, his lean arms now snaked around your waist, in a poor and slight attempt to turn your body more towards him, as his lips remained encased against yours. Although, with Aegon's weight below, pinning you down from turning completely, your upper body remained slightly tilted towards him, one of his hands supporting your back from beneath as to not strain you, whilst the other began to firmly massage the swollen cup of your breast.

"A-Aemond-" You pleasantly whisper, uncertain of whether you wished for the moment to cease nor continue, you could not say. Aegon's tongue encircling your clit, whilst Aemond massaged the sweet spots of your tender breast, you lost the power of your own consciousness, helpless against the actions of the Targaryen brothers.

"Say it, Princess. Say my name, just like that-"

"Aemond" You moaned again, obedient to the younger brother's stern words, that he growled against your ear, it naturally sent a thrill of shivers coursing down your spine. Instinctively, a visceral reaction to the electrifying licking of Aegon's tongue between your inner folds, often grazing over your clit, your hips thrust forward, as your back arched, craving for more.

The oozing remnants of your cum that escaped Aegon's eager, ravenous mouth, would drip through the gaps and crevices down your inner thighs. Traces smothering against Aegon's plump cheeks form the jerky movements the sprung between you two.

"Okay brother, she's ready when you are-" And without a minute to spare, as though the brothers miraculously communicated telepathically, they jumped into action. Aegon breathless, stood himself up from the bed, leaving his younger brother to finish his mess. He attended to himself, hastily wiping his mouth clean with his hand, licking your sweet aftertaste from his fingers, as though he'd just devoured a succulent roast, savouring the moment, as he seated himself by the vacant seat near the dim fireplace. Aemond on the other hand, now positioned himself swiftly over you, his tip hovering over your entrance, before easing himself in. You'd closely noticed he was not as thick as his brother, as you easily took his mass between your folds, he did not stretch you out as his eldest brother would, however his cock was long and veiny, able to bury himself deeper into you.

"Are you okay?" He uttered, his eye fleeting over your tender, flustered face. You hadn't realised the precise moment he'd removed the notorious black, leather eye patch, as now a sapphire gem glistened back at you, in replacement of his lost eye.

"Y-Yes, I'm okay."

Slowly, ever so carefully, Aemond began to pace his thrusts, adjusting to your walls naturally clenching around his cock, you were unaware of whether Aemond had previously laid with a woman or not, although he seemed knowledgable enough to know what was required of him and how it needed to be done...

"Fuck-" He lowly moaned, as he shut his eyes instinctively, gradually beginning to fasten his pace. Aegon was often sloppy and slow when it came to fucking you, occasionally when he was close to his climax did he manage to gather some speed, although being a larger man, his endurance was easily exhausted, and he required periods of rest. Otherwise, he much preferred you working for it.

Aemond on the other hand, was eager to gain momentum himself, rather him putting in the effort. His body began to weight itself down against the forces of gravity, shoving and readjusting himself between your legs. Your arms had instinctively wrapped around Aemond's back, clinging to his muscular shoulders, for steadiness. You took his readjusting as a sign to bend them further up, bringing your knees up forward, as many woman had advised you in private councils, this to be an effective method to successfully take a man's seed.

You ashamedly couldn't bring yourself to turn to face Aegon, uncertain if he watched on closely as his younger brother fucked himself inside his own wife, or if he dared not burn the image into his memory. Regardless, it was happening, and if he wanted to he could've stopped it in a heartbeat, although no protest came from his end.

"Ugh, fuck-" Aemond repeatedly uttered, his breathing more shallow and fast, his head now resting against the side of your head, his grip on your hip and the other behind the crook of your sweaty neck tightened naturally. You mustered all the possible strength and will power you could, to not moan in response to Aemond's penetration, your lips pressed and pursed tightly, against the feeling of his cock throbbing intensely from within, occasionally managing to hit your sweet spot. His long, platinum hair had been he'd tied back into a low ponytail, as to keep it away from irritating your face, although your fingers found their way towards the back of his scalp, eagerly tugging at its roots.

"I'm so fucking close-" He panted, before groaning audibly, you were certain Aegon heard... Almost a bashful look struck across his chiseled, sweaty face, as he failed to maintain eye contact with you, turning to look up towards the head of the bed. It made you blush to think that you were causing such a visceral, feral reaction from the younger Prince.

The feeling of his warm load coating your insides, caused a much anticipated exhale of breath to escape your moist mouth, leaving your chest to heave in exhaustion, as your tits jiggled with each breath. Aemond's remained inside for a few minutes, making sure you took all of his seed well enough, he took the moment to compose his breathing too, as his hands stretched out on each side, cowering over you.

"The deed is done, brother-" Aemond breathlessly, uttered, as now he removed himself from within you, standing himself up off the bed, whilst Aegon returned to your side.

Hastily, he grabbed a set of fluffed pillows, from the head of the bed, positioning them just below your hips and bottom, causing your lower body to incline.

"Stay like this baby, it will help let the seed travel through you." He'd also managed to gather a blanket for you, as he covered your naked self, seating himself by your side, as he prepared a wet cloth to wipe over your forehead.

Still slightly breathless, you couldn't help though feel the hot tears begin to swell and fall from your eyes, as you examined what you had assumed was a dejected look on Aegon's face. You felt immensely guilty, and had wished he had not witnessed what he'd witnessed.

"I-I'm so sorry Aegon, how could you ever look at me the same."

His brows furrowed in haste, saddened once more by your words, he edged himself closer towards you, shushing you easily like a babe.

"Don't you ever think that, Y/N. This was my plan, my decision. I need to know if I am truly the problem, and if so what is to be done. This had to happen baby, do not think otherwise... Be thankful, Aemond was a willing candidate, he will not speak a word of this rest assured."

You stifle your cries, as Aegon parallel wipes away your fallen tears, and the strands of mottled hair. Aemond in the meantime, remains quiet and reserved, occupied with redressing himself, perhaps he too, feels ashamed.

"You promise to stop the drinking, no more ale, or wine or beer. And that you'll see the maester for some cure or remedy?" You persist, as you reach to grab Aegon's hand in yours.

"I promise I will," Aegon utters, leaning down towards you as he plants a soft kiss on your warm forehead, exchanging soft smiles with one another.

You turn to face Aemond with a thankful look, although he immediately cowers his gaze towards the floor.

"Perhaps I should leave-" Aemond awkwardly suggests, his focus fleeting from his brother to you, only to return back towards the ground, the faint sounds of his feet shuffling anxiously.

"Aemond-" You stretch out a hand over towards the mattress, and hesitantly Aemond returns the favour, holding your hand in his.

"I, well- We both do genuinely appreciate you for doing this. I understand it's an unimaginable thing to ask of someone, especially the secrecy that is to come with it, but rest assured... If the Gods do bless me with a child, I shall be honoured for you to remain present in the babe's life."

Aemond slowly nods his head in agreement to your words, a shy smile forming over his handsome, young face as your grip of him tightens reassuringly.

"The honour was mine, that you both entrusted me with this responsibility. I would wish for nothing more than that, thank you, Y/N. Although, I trust you both shall make dutiful, happy parents, by the efforts you both have gone to... The babe shall be blessed with a loving family, indeed."