#They always fall back on solution number one

[laundrypause]

AU where loscar are in high school, Oscar's quite popular and Logan is not as popular but just as much as well-liked. One thing about Logan is he is the most oblivious human to ever exist in the entirety of mankind. People flirting with him? Nah, they're just being nice. Getting chocolates for Valentine's? They must feel bad that he doesn't have one. Notes with hearts attached to phone numbers mysteriously finding their way into his locker? Must be the people he's been partnered with for their midterms. At first, Logan's secret admirers thought he was trying to reject them without outwardly saying no to their advances. And if that really was the case, they'd back off cause yk common decency. But then they find out he actually doesn't realise that these advances are essentially what they are. Advances. So they do what seemed like a perfectly reasonable solution and asked one of Logan's best friends to help them out because maybe their flirtations were too general. Too normal. They needed an insider who knew what Logan liked other than fishing and cars. Things that made his heart flutter, his cheeks blush. They wanted him to know that they were interested in him, not just being friendly. So who else to ask none other than Oscar to help them out.

Oscar wouldn't say he was Logan's bestest best closest friend who knew everything about him down to a T. That position was occupied. But Oscar thinks he knows Logan enough to try and be a Cupid-associate per say and help these poor souls who decided to fall for Oblivious Man™. He doesn't know what the tightening of his chest or the flood of fire trickling through his body means but it's probably the odd gloop of greens the cafeteria calls lunch he ate. Not for any other reason at all.

For about 2 weeks straight, Oscar's the designated Loge(Love) Guru, attempting to inconspicuously ask Logan questions and relaying pieces of said information to the admirers that fit the list of questions they'd emailed him. Yes, emailed him like social media didn't exist and this was the early 2000s or something. The list of questions include:

What's Logan's favourite color?

Is he a steak kinda guy?

His ideal type in 3 words?

Coach or Gucci?

And other questions Oscar deemed.... he'd rather not ask (let's leave it at that).

Logan's a little confused about the sudden influx of questions hurled at him by Oscar but deigns it harmless enough. If it meant he'd get to spend more time with Oscar, he'd take it. Who's there to judge him? Exactly. No one.

It's been weeks ever since the admirers have asked Oscar for help and still...no dice. It seemed like after they'd requested Oscar's expertise, Logan's become even more detached to their pursuits, which should definitely be impossible but it's Logan. He always somehow manages to defy the odds. But maybe this is a sign of some sort, that Logan will never manage to see through the fog and accept that it's possible for people to experience attraction towards him.

When they say this to Oscar, however, he's weirdly defensive. Saying how could they just give up that easily, if they're actually serious about Logan why are they not doing anything more, that actually they were asking the wrong questions. That did they not realize that Logan wasn't that much of a materialist? Their actions need to have meaning, their gifts need to convey a message. They can't just throw a designer watch at him expecting him to know their intentions. Hell, he wouldn't even accept the damn gift because oh why would you spend so much on me? I can't accept this.

Nor can they can't just give him flowers all willy-nilly, just grabbing them off a shelf because it's the most expensive. Purple so obviously clashes with him and didn't they remember when Oscar said Logan liked yellow? They should've gotten him a yellow bouquet with greens and blues complimenting it, yellow because he was as bright as the sun, always exuding warmth and blues and greens because they were the colors of his eyes and wrapped with delicate pink crêpe paper because that's the color of his cheeks whenever he flushes and-

Oh my God, they were dumbasses. Idiots, fools, blockheads. Of course Oscar's 'advice' didn't work. It didn't work because he liked him. He liked Logan. Shit, it was all starting to make sense now, why none of the help Oscar lent truly...helped. Because he didn't want to help them. Because he liked Logan and didn't want them to- God how were they so dumb? It's so obvious now, so clear. The way Oscar's eyes always managed to soften when Logan was in his radar, the immediate hardening of his body, muscles taut whenever someone says something less than friendly to the American, ready to jump into a fight like an aggravated cat or even the way he always seemed to be the first person in line to lend Logan a shoulder when he's tired out of his mind, staving off sleep just to do one more calc question.

Always the one forcing him to take care of himself whenever Logan forgets to. God, they were complaining about Logan being the oblivious one but how about them? Being completely blind to the obvious lovesick simp that was still going on about how the direction of the quirk of Logan's mouth could clearly tell you about the mood he's in.

Oscar, the most discreetly obvious about his feelings. So discreet, he managed to go unnoticed by the admirers until now. So discreet, he himself doesn't realize the extent of what he's feeling for Logan isn't just platonic.

[lygma-nygma]

How the Robins handle familial conflict:

Damian: Violence.

Stephanie: Violence.

Tim: Starts trying to have a conversation with- I’m just kidding. Violence.

Jason: Violence.

Dick: It doesn’t matter because eventually it’s going to end in violence.

[planetaryupscaled]

Disenchanted 3: Public Indecency

Male Reader x Karina

Tags: 3k, blackmail, cheating, creampie

The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.

Ever since the day at the carnival I sensed a change in Karina. It was almost as if her last few emotional links to Jaewook had finally fractured and torn. The consequence to this was our relationship, if you could call it that became stronger.

Karina was less concerned about being married, her go to line anytime we were about to part take in anything remotely physical. It got to the point that she removed her wedding ring every time we indulged ourselves in satisfying our desires for one another. Jaewook on the other hand began falling deeper and deeper into a downward spiral, we met at least once a week to talk through his issues with Karina. Every time his solutions for fixing his marriage became more and more desperate.

“I don’t know how long we can go on like this.” Jaewook said, as we sat at a random bar off the side of the highway.

“It feels like our marriage has turned into a set of a show, like it’s all smiles and waves for the public, but in private, we go our separate ways.” Jaewook followed up.

I sat back, knocking down a shot of whisky, placing my hands on his shoulders.

“Give her more time, it must be tough for both of you.” I replied.

Jaewook shrugged his shoulders, a solitary tear falling down his cheeks.

“We haven’t had sex in weeks, her answers are cold, I dunno how I can fix this...what do I do?” He asked, eyes pleading for an answer.

Hearing this, jabbed sharply at my conscience as it was only a few hours ago that Karina and I had fucked in her car after she dropped the kids off to school. I still had her peach-colored lipstick marks smeared along the length of my cock after sucked me to completion, taking my pent up load down her married throat. It was becoming her thing, swallowing was once a taboo, a no no, but ever since we got together, having me finish in her mouth had always hit the right spot. It gave me a sense of pride, knowing she only swallowed me, only my load satiated her hunger. Jaewook and I polished off another few rounds before I called him a cab to take him home. The situation was getting untenable in the Lee household, only pushing Karina further into my arms, it was the perfect situation form me yet little did I know, things were going to get much more complicated.

—

“Hey, so I had a chat with corporate, and they have green us the green light to roll some sample products out at the local businesses.” Nayoung said, handing me the paperwork granting us more budget for the final push marketing our new lines.

“Hmmm that is a great news...I was thinking, maybe we could do something along the lines of nature, maybe draw upon the ecological and environmentally friendly products we have.” I replied.

“I will run it past the team and get back to you.” Nayoung said with a smile before we heard a knock at the door.

It was Karina, her hair wrapped neatly in a bun, wearing a striking pink number, accentuating her flawless toned legs.

“Morning team.” She said smiling.

“Just spoke to Yeonjun outside, good work on securing more funds for our new lines. I was thinking perhaps, marketing some at the local aquarium, drawing upon our environmental packaging and natural ingredients. They have a save the ocean exhibit on at the moment.” Karina said.

Nayoung looked at me with a smile.

“Looks like you have got your answer Boss.” Nayoung said.

Karina looked at me a little perplexed.

“I was just saying we should link our products up with our local businesses, hammering down on our eco-friendly appeal.” I said smiling.

“Great minds.” Replied Karina, laughing.

“Great...team day it is.” I said.

“Gather the troops, maybe we can all go down there, perhaps get some contacts, throw some ideas around.” I replied.

“You free Karina? You can be our secret weapon in getting them to potentially work with us.” I said.

“Are you planning in using me to further your professional career.” She replied smirking.

“You hit the nail right on the head.” I replied, grabbing my coat and walking towards her.

Nayoung was outside with Sohye and Yeonjun getting ready to go. I took the opportunity to peck Karina on the lips quickly, getting another hit of her womanly scent.

“Minho! People...” She startled.

“Might see...” I finished, kissing her again causing Karina to break out in a smile.

“Cmon, let’s go.” I said, opening the door and leading us out.

The local aquarium was only ten minutes away. The entire walk, Sohye and Nayoung updated Karina on various ideas they had on ways to spread our new lines on social media. I caught Yeonjun checking Karina out on a number of occasions, his eyes flickering towards her long slender legs as we reached our destination. I couldn’t blame him she was a very attractive woman. Nevertheless, I felt myself grow ever more protective over her, as I slowly began to realize, what we had was more than just the physical, I was actually falling for her completely.

My musings of how deep my relationship with Karina was, were quickly interrupted by the murmuring of the public around us. She had been recognized and approached by a number of fans asking for her autograph and picture. Karina dealt with it like a pro, smiling and stopping for photos while I flagged the manager. We spoke for a few moments regarding our impromptu visit and plans we had. The brief chat actually going better than I expected as he invited Karina and I to discuss our ideas in more detail. Flagging down Nayoung, I gave her the company card and told her to take the team out for lunch while Karina and I talked to the manager of the aquarium for a bit longer. He seemed, not surprisingly infatuated with Karina’s beauty, nodding and agreeing with everything she said. It took around fifteen minutes flat to organize a small event in the early part of next week to coincide with the finale of their save the Oceans exhibit.

“And that is why I brought you...” I said, whispering in Karina’s ear.

She smiled, slapping me on the arm as we finished up the meeting.

“Do you guys want me to show you around, we have special piece we are doing on Sea Turtles at the moment, not available for the public yet.” The manager asked hopefully.

Karina paused, looking at me.

“Sure.” I said, seeing Karina glare her eyes at me.

“Was this not meant to be a team day?” Karina said, whispering in my ear.

“Nayoung can look after them, besides, I told them to go around and get some lunch, we can all meet up after.” I replied, as we followed the manager around to the back of the complex.

The rumble of the public gradually dissipated to a low murmur as we made our way into a large open space, surrounded my glass screens, behind which was an endless volume of blue. Giant sea turtles floated gently by, as if waving to us as they circled upwards to the surface flanked by numerous colorful fish zipping effortlessly in and out of the artificial coral reefs.

“This is it!” The manager said proudly.

His eyes still glued to Karina as she stared at the beautiful creatures swimming in the deep.

“So when is this exhibit open?” Karina asked in wonder.

“About two weeks, you guys are the first to see it.” He said smiling.

I could see his eyes travel the length of her body the moment she turned around before his visual perversions were disrupted by a loud bang. It came from the main area down the hallway, with some load shouts. It sounded like there was a bit of a scuffle going down from the sounds of the screaming.

“Shit...what now?” The manager said, in frustration.

“Guys...have a look around and come back the way we came...my team will be in contact with you later this week to tidy up the details.” He said.

“It was nice to meet you...both of you.” He followed up, his face showing disappointment at having to leave the company of the once famous Idol.

We watched him leave before sighing in relief.

“He had such the hots for you Karina!” I said chuckling.

“I could feel his eyes on me every time I turned around...it felt- ughh a little creepy.” She said with a frown.

“Why...does it make you jealous when other guys check me out?” Karina asked closing the gap, gently smiling.

“A little...” I replied, kissing her lips.

“That is kinda cute.” She said kissing me back.

“I know right, it’s a problem the jealousy that is, it causes this really bad pent up tension you know.” I replied sarcastically.

“Oh...really.” She said raising her eyebrows.

“Don’t- don’t even say it mister.” Karina said, placing her fingers on my lips.

I looked at her suggestively, wrapping my hands around her waist as I eased her gently onto the glass of the aquarium.

“Minho...seriously...people...might...uhm...see...ughh...us.” She replied, her voice fading into light moans as my hands caressed her tight body.

“Let’s not pretend you don’t secretly like it...” I replied, kissing her down her body as my hands drifted up her dress.

“I do...ughh but- ohh god...that feels- good.” She replied, her pussy creaming in my palm.

“Just a quick...pump and dump.” I said with a smirk.

“A what...? who do you think you are talking to?” Karina said going bright red.

I kissed her full lips, biting down on her lower lip as I continued feeling her up under her dress.

“Shit...seriously- we...ughhh...might...unhh...get...caught...” Karina moaned.

My hand continuing to squeeze and massage her rapidly dampening pussy, causing her to adjust her stance to allow me better access to her burning sex.

“Maybe- ughh…maybe- a quick...pump.” She whispered breathlessly smacking my arm smirking, as she eased her legs open for me, the pleasure emanating from her slit causing a long groan to leave her lips.

Her purring was getting louder as I pierced her wet folds with my fingers, stroking her deep inside her womanly cavern. She ran her fingers through my hair, gripping my head tightly as I slung one of her legs over my shoulders, pushing her standing leg onto her tip toes. My tongue buried into the far reach depths of her married cunt as she flexed her walls around my face, creaming profusely over my mouth.

“Minho- quick…I need you…inside me...” Karina moaned impatiently, her need to be filled spilling out at the surface, rocking her head back and shutting her eyes.

I gave her folds one long lick, the drool from her pussy now forming thick strands on my lips as I hoovered up her sex for the final time.

“I thought...you were afraid of getting caught?” I said, raising my eyebrows as I slipped my drenched fingers from her glistening slit.

“Ughhh- fuck...I still…am, ohh…i can’t believe I’m letting you do this to me...” Karina replied, her eyes now filling with lust.

“Do you want me to stop?” I asked, petting her throbbing clit with my lips.

“Don’t you dare!” Karina, replied gritting her teeth and pulling me up to my feet.

“You want it?” I asked, taking her slippery tongue into my mouth and sucking down hard.

I could feel the vibrations of Karina groaning into my mouth, spreading her legs for me as I hiked up her dress.

“I love it...” She replied, kissing me back and wrapping her left leg around my waist.

Her hands were searching down my torso, fumbling for my zipper as we kissed deeply, our tongues clashing, exchanging spit as she finally set me free. My cock springing out from my trousers, the top of my shaft rubbing tantalizingly along the bottom of her sex. I could feel the warmth of her slit through her now soaked underwear, a mixture of her sensual cream and my spit coating my length as I rubbed up against her.

“Put it in...” Karina whispered, rolling her head into my hands as I supported her upper back in my right arm.

It was a moment of raw passion as we locked eyes, her mouth agape as I thrust my hips forward, piercing her wet folds with my cock. There was no time to take her underwear off I just wanted to be in her, as deep and as hard as I could, fucking my length up to the hilt till I bottomed out inside her precious pussy. Karina was slick, her hands clawing at my back as we found our rhythm, each pump of my dick bringing her further off the ground as her standing leg struggled to reach the floor.

“Karina...you feel so fucking good...” I moaned into her hear.

“Ughhh- keep going...just...like- that.” She replied, eyes shut tight as I nailed her against the glass.

All you could hear each time I penetrated her married cunt were the slaps of our flesh and a deep thud of her rear slamming hard against the aquarium wall. The coolness of the glass rubbing on her back side as I continuously stuffed her with my meat, stretching her tight pussy with my girth as my tip smashed up on her cervix, deep within her womb.

Karina scratched at my back, her breath now ragged as she was losing control, I could feel the walls of her cunt gradually intensify its grip on my straining cock as I pierced her slick folds. The cream from her cunt now dripping down my thighs as I fucked her full of my cock in the dimly lit aquarium.

“Fuckk...deeper- fuck...me...deeper...” Karina whispered hurriedly in my ear.

She was close, her body was tensing as I cradled both arms around her upper back, protecting the back of her head from what was about to happen.

“You want it deep baby?” I asked, my eyes burning with desire.

She nodded, biting her lip as her orgasm began to build.

“Hold on...” I said, kissing her deeply one more time as the brunette braced her core.

Karina knew what was coming, opening her thighs wider for me to allow for my deeper strokes. Gripping the back of her head I mercilessly pumped my dick deep inside her cunt, assaulting her married pussy with my invading cock as I stuffed her wanting womb with my meat.

“ughh...anhh...fuckk...” Karina screamed, her wails reverberating off the glass as I pummeled her cunt for all I was worth.

“Karina...I can’t hold on much...much longer...” I said, my breath now haggard as I continued to pump her.

“Fuck...unghh- inside...cum…inside me.” Karina moaned, now finding it hard to catch her breath as I began to creampied her inside.

It was like breaking a dam, as a river of warm sticky spunk flowed from my tip, seeding Karina’s married pussy. Spurt after spurt coated her pink womb as her cunt walls sucked on my shaft like a hoover, her thighs shaking as we climaxed simultaneously. Holding me close in her grasp, she swayed her hips forward, fucking more of my spasming cock into her tight cavern, milking my meat to completion as I pumped her full of my pent up sperm. Our sweaty bodies slowed in tempo, my twitching dick still buried inside her as I lowered her legs back onto the floor, my warm sperm leaking from her slit and trickling down her toned thighs as we kissed deeply, my hips thrusting one last time to make sure she took all my load inside her womb.

In the thralls of passion, I thought I spotted another person’s reflection in the glass, turning around in a shock but to no avail.

“What...what’s the matter?” Karina asked breathlessly.

She continued to rock her hips, not letting me disengage as the she reveled in the feeling of my seed swimming around inside her.

“Nothing...thought I saw something that’s all.” I replied, still gathering my thoughts.

“I feel so full...you came a lot” she said smirking as I slipped my member from her depths.

A stream of my cum came pouring out, mixed with her womanly grool and cream. The milky substance leaving a trail of destruction down her legs as the rest splashed on the concrete floor.

“You are so bad...” She smiled seductively, hitting my arm.

She was right, we were a very risky pair indeed, seeking out dangerous situations to satisfy our darkest desires.

“Hey, are you guys still here?” The manager’s voice called out from behind us.

Startled, I quickly buttoned my cock back into my trousers, handing Karina a tissue to wipe up the mess I made down her inner legs. Slightly red faced I turned around waving to him as I approached.

“Lovely turtles.” I said, motioning to the deep blue.

Karina joining me by my side, like nothing happened smiled and thanked the man for showing us around. It seemed to work as he flushed red showing us back to the entrance. She still had a smudge of my spunk on her inner leg which she quickly dispatched before the manager noticed, taking it between her pink lips and swallowing it down discretely.

“Your friends have been waiting a while, they are just outside.” He said pointing to the door.

We shook hands once more and departed, meeting the team outside.

“Where were you guys?” Nayoung asked.

“Eh the manager was a bit of a fan, he insisted in showing us around the new exhibit, we figured it was the least we could do for allowing us to market some of our products here.” Karina replied smiling.

Nayoung smiled giving me a small post it.

“Hajoon our director was here, he left with Yeonjun and went back to the office, he says he wants to discuss something with you guys.” Nayoung said slightly concerned.

“Is everything ok?” She asked.

“I assume its to update him on our progress, but why did Yeonjun go?” I asked.

“Dunno Boss, they were talking about a proposal of some sort.” Nayoung said shrugging her shoulders.

Karina looked at me slightly confused as we made our way back to work. Back inside, Karina went ahead to Hajoon’s office while I fixed my sweaty appearance, washing my face with cold water to gather my thoughts. When I knocked on the director’s door and entered, Karina was already sitting down, her expression looked worried for some reason.

“Please, sit Minho.” Hajoon said, pointing at the chair next to Karina.

Yeonjun was sitting on the side his face slightly piqued at my entrance, taking a seat on the cool leather chair.

Hajoon sighed, pushing out a phone on the table.

“It has come to my attention, that a senior manager and an important member of the board have been...partaking in less than professional activities.” He said.

I gulped hard, sweat now forming on my brow as he continued to speak ushering Yeonjun over to us. Yeonjun air played the phone to the tv monitor on the wall, pressing play. It was hard to make out at first, but when the video came into focus there was no denying what we were watching. It was Karina and I, fucking in the aquarium, you could clearly see her face resting on my shoulder, moaning into my neck as I was thrusting my cock deep inside her.

Hajoon’s face was oddly stoic, like we were in a business deal as he wrapped his fingers.

“You both know what this means, if this was to get out.” He said.

“That sounds like a threat...” I replied, my anger building as I turned my attention to Yeonjun.

“Seriously, leverage?” I said to Yeonjun, who remained looking at the floor.

“Don’t blame him, he was in the right to come to me.” Hajoon said.

Karina was sitting quietly next to me, her hands pressed together as we both listened to how our fates would unravel.

“So, what now?” I asked curtly.

“I can make this go away, delete this video and we can all go about our lives.” Hajoon replied, his voice taking on a sinister tone.

“What’s the catch...?” I asked.

“The catch is… a night with me.” Karina replied, her face flushed in embarrassment.

“What? No, absolutely not.” I replied.

Hajoon smiled, silently surveying us both, he had us dead to rights as he wrote something on a piece of paper.

“As you both may know, I am stepping down soon, the rumors are true.” Hajoon said.

“Now, I like you, I really do Karina, you are hardworking and great for the company... you are also very beautiful.” He followed up.

“I was actually going to offer this in exchange for...your body, but Yeonjun with his evidence had made it too good not to accelerate.” Hajoon said calmly.

“When I retire, I will transfer my shares to you Karina, giving you 30% of the company...in return for a night with you.” He said.

“As part of this deal, Yeonjun will also want a night with you, in return, he will delete the video once we finish… our transaction.” Hajoon said coldly.

I nearly punched both of them right there, before Karina grasped my hand.

“Don’t...” She said exasperated.

“I’ll do it... I’ll do it as long as you are there with me.” She said, a tear tricking down her face.

There was a deft silence in the room, I had no idea how to react to that before Hajoon spoke up.

“See, an amicable solution.” Hajoon said.

“After this Yeonjun, I am firing your ass.” I said, my voice laced in venom.

He shrugged his shoulders smirking.

“It’s totally worth it.” He said, pointing at the television as Karina and I fucked on screen.

“See you both soon...” Hajoon said, showing us the door, a wry smile spread on his wrinkly old face...

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (9/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: oral sex, kissing, mutual masturbation, targcest stuff, smut, the angst, sexual tension, imprisonment, abuse of power, manipulation, violence ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

"The day is beautiful." He whispered in her ear, placing a gentle, little kiss on her neck a moment later.

Her flesh was hot under his fingers, and he savoured the taste of her sweat on his lips – he sighed as he felt his hard manhood, already sore and all swollen with impatience, push hard against her buttocks.

She moaned quietly, tilting her head back, her mouth parted wide in a heavy breath, her hands clenched on his arm – his palm, sunk between her silky, smooth thighs was soaked from her wetness, her thirsty cunt pulsed greedily around nothing.

"– focus –" He commanded, feeling that her hips sought involuntary fulfilment, rolling back and forth in a joint rhythm with his long fingers.

The last few evenings had blended into one for him, turning later into nights full of her moans, the loud clicks of her moisture, her lips leaking with desire, her fingers clenched on his manhood.

Every time it came for him too naturally, too easily.

"– tubis – mmm – tubis issa gevie –" She mumbled, and he took his hand away, sighing heavily.

She squirmed, turning in his arms, looking up at him pleadingly, sitting down on top of him with her hands around his neck.

"– please –" She whispered, pressing her bare breasts against his tunic, combing her fingers through his long hair.

He didn't stop her when she pulled at the black ribbon at the back of his head, letting the front strands of his hair fall over his face.

"– right words, wrong order –" He said coolly, embracing her with one hand around her waist, the other clamping down on the plump skin of her bottom, the only part of her body hidden under the thin material of her nightgown, letting them rub against each other with the motions of their hips.

"– tubis gevie issa –" She breathed out, and after a moment his mouth was already on hers, hearing with relief that she had finally used the correct grammar and conjugation.

He thought with satisfaction that, indeed, she deserved a reward, as did he for being such a patient and good teacher, so he twisted himself along with her and threw himself onto the bed on which they had been sitting until now, pressing her body against the sheets.

They purred and panted loudly, letting their mouths devour each other in loud, sticky kisses full of their saliva and slick tongues, their hands wandering blindly over each other's bodies, wanting nothing more than to simply feel each other.

Something like a smile flashed across his face when he heard her nimble fingers undo the belt and buckles of his tunic, the motion of his arms helping her to pull it off him.

His hands followed her example, revealing her naked, graceful body, slipping her nightgown off her legs – he always stopped at that moment, at the sight of her exposed, bare flesh, her gaze full of joyful, hot anticipation, her glistening lips parted in a loud, deep breath.

She was always so eager, he thought with appreciation.

"– gevie –" He sighed, leaning lower to see that her teeth bit into her lower lip at that word, her thighs parted, allowing him to lie between them – his fingers untied the small knot binding the fabric of his breeches as his tongue ran from her stomach upwards, between her sweet breasts.

Beautiful.

Her fingers combed gently through his hair as his nose ran over to the side, with her quiet moan of pleasure closing his lips around her hard, puffy nipple. He murmured when, with her help, he managed to slide his breeches off his hips and raised himself up on his elbows, releasing her nipple with a quiet plop.

He pulled his linen shirt over his head feeling that his eye patch exposed his eye socket and scar – his heart pounded harder in panic, his lips parted in horror as he reached up and corrected it, but the damage was already done.

He saw in the shocked expression on her face that she had seen it.

"– daor –" She begged, propping herself up on her elbows, her eyebrows arched in pain at the sight of him trying to cover himself from her again. "– kostilus, lēkia – tubī daor –"

He looked at her with his mouth open in ragged breath, feeling that he had completely frozen, not knowing what to do, wanting it at the same time as being afraid.

Please, big brother.

Not today.

Looking at her flushed face, at her long eyelashes and sweet, full lips, he caught himself thinking that if he had pretended that she had always lived in the Red Keep, there would have been nothing inappropriate about their closeness, their caresses and the nights they spent together.

Her eyes, though darker and bigger, as much as her hair could be inherited from his mother after all, similarly soft and smooth, her gaze as warm and tender – her calmness and thoughtfulness was much like his father's, and only when he was by her side did he realize how much resentment lay within him that his King had devoted so little attention to his own son.

Their fictional relationship, created by him only to subdue her, was slowly becoming a truth of which he himself became a victim.

He swallowed hard as she raised herself up on her hands and sat in front of him, looking him straight in the eye, his lips pressed together into a thin line as her fingers rose to his face, slowly pulling his eye patch off his head.

He looked at her, feeling that his face was stony – he didn't want her to see anything that was happening inside his mind – he felt that she had no right to reject him, no right to mock him or laugh at him, no right to look at him with compassion, but he dreaded it anyway.

Humiliation.

She, however, seemed to sense his tension – as soon as she put his eye patch aside her hand lifted uncertainly back to his scarred cheek, and her fingertips ran over the pale, long line that adorned it, looking at him intrigued, her doe eyes large and warm, full of some kind of understanding.

"– kasta –" She whispered with a sweet, gentle smile devoid of anything but tenderness.

He felt a squeeze in his throat.

Blue.

His sapphire.

He sighed quietly as she threw her arms around his neck, as she moved closer and let his long, swollen erection push against her abdomen, her hard nipples pressed against the bare skin of his torso. Their fingers sank into each other's soft hair as they leaned towards each other, and their swollen lips met in a strangely quiet, uncertain, gentle kiss.

It was a sweet kiss, he thought, and each kiss that followed was just as lazy and soft – their lips clicked from their saliva each time they became one, her breath hot and full of desire.

As his hand slid down her waist, hers slid down his chest, seeking the same thing.

They sighed quietly and stopped, not pulling their mouths away from each other, simply breathing as their fingers found what they wanted – he closed his eyes as her smooth hand clenched gently on his thick, throbbing manhood, dripping with desire, while his hand slid between her thighs from the side of her buttocks, meeting her soaked, hot womanhood.

He pushed her onto the bed, holding her in his arms, and lay on his side with her, throwing her thigh over his waist – their bodies clung to each other in an embrace close and full of affection, their lips meeting in the need for intimacy and understanding.

Her dark, long curls were wonderfully soft and smooth under his fingers, his hands seeming to sink into her warm, bare skin, the scent of her sweat and oils filling his lungs like a morning breeze.

Her body was different from Madam's – her curves were more girlish, her breasts wonderfully plump and swollen, her hips soft and silken to the touch, her lips and womanhood just as moist and delicate, thirsty for his caresses.

He twisted and forced her to lie on her back, brushing her sweet lips with his, panting louder and louder as her smooth hand caressed his cock, all sore with desire.

The touch of her hand on this intimate part was never perverse and animalistic – no – she squeezed his hard length with slow, gentle strokes, turning a simple, primitive reflex into something almost tender, as if she thought his manhood was not something dirty, a source of sin and embarrassment, but something she respected.

It was only by being with her that he understood the difference between caressing and satisfying.

Madam was satisfying his needs.

His little sister was caressing his body, almost embarrassing him with how pleasurable it was.

He pulled away from her lips, thinking that although they were usually limited to touching each other with their hands, now, this night, when she finally saw all of him, he wanted to reward her for her devotion, for not asking questions, for not demanding, for not commanding, for letting him touch her every night even though he had no right to do so.

"– ah – what –" She muttered as he lifted himself up on his knees and gently took her thighs in his hands, shamelessly spreading them wider.

Her lips parted as he leaned over her, already knowing subconsciously what he was trying to do, her hips wanted to move back involuntarily, but he didn't let her, pushing her close again.

"– daor, hāedar – your brother longs to taste you –" He said and before any word left her throat, he leaned lower and let his face sink into her warm, leaking cunt – he heard her loud, surprised moan, her spine arching in ecstasy as his lips ran shyly over her soft folds.

"– lēkia –" She mewled, clasping her fingers in his white hair as the tip of his tongue began to fondle with her swollen slit, teasing it lazily, while his thumb found her little bud, trailing around it, making her hips begin to roll back and forth, rubbing against his face.

He himself began to rock his hips, rubbing his painfully hard cock against the bed beneath him, trying to find any source for an escape from his tension, thinking only of how wonderful she tasted and looked – his lips and tongue swept over her thirsty cunt while his gaze was fixed on her face, her mouth wide open and her eyes closed, her cheeks red with exertion, glistening with sweat.

"– so needy – soaking wet for her big brother –" He hummed contentedly and felt her whole body tremble, her eyes opening, meeting his gaze – she started to pant, spreading her thighs wider, pressing his head closer, as if she wanted him to simply melt into one with her body – his short nails dug into the soft skin of her buttocks as she cried out loudly, throwing her head back, feeling his slick tongue suddenly burst deep inside her, mercilessly hitting the same wonderful spot within her again and again.

"– ah – mghmmm – f-fuck, gods –" She babbled, writhing before him in pleasure, surprisingly innocent and vulnerable now as he devoured her cunt like there was no tomorrow, feeling her sweet wetness melt on his tongue.

The tip of his nose along with his thumb traveled around her pearl, feeling her entire womanhood begin to pulsate, his tongue hitting her fleshy walls just above her opening, feeling the tiny bud that made her quiver with pleasure.

"– Aemond – Aemond, Aemond, Aemond, Aemond –" She panted as if she was pronouncing the words of a prayer.

A shudder shook them both as she came with a girlish cry of pleasure, rocking her hips so that they rubbed against his face, her fingers clenched in his hair as if she was never going to let him go again, her breath heavy and uneven, her thighs quivering all over in his hands.

"– please – please, no more –" She begged, trying to push him away as the last waves of pleasure surged through her body, while he continued to lick what was flowing out of her, teasing her over-sensitive, weeping cunt anew.

"– nothing can go to waste – it's all mine –" He cooed, and she sighed, giving in, trying to endure his treatments with quiet moans on the edge of pain and pleasure.

"– me too – I want – I want to kiss you there, lēkia – let me –" She mumbled, looking up at him with eyes hazy with disbelief at how pleasurable the experience was.

His cock pulsed painfully hard, leaving him with no resistance.

"– mmm – come here –" He exhaled, laying down beside her on his back, tossing his hair away so that it didn't bother him, thinking with shame that it was a feminine gesture, not a masculine one.

She, however, seemed not to mind, for the eagerness with which she shifted over to him and lay between his thighs amazed and embarrassed even him.

He sighed, tilting his head back, unable to get a word out when her hand gently grasped the base of his cock in her fingers, while her lips ran over the pink, fat head of it.

"– guide me –" She hummed sweetly, making the whole act seem absurdly innocent to him, despite the fact that his erection was so swollen that he felt like he was about to just reach his peak on her face.

There was something tempting about it, but he couldn't deny himself the warmth of her lips.

"– tease it –" He whispered, running his thumb over the tip of his cock, smooth and slick from his own wetness – he threw his head back and closed his eyes, surprised when she leaned in immediately, running her sticky, warm tongue over that part of him.

"– fuck –" He exhaled, feeling his heart pounding like mad in his chest – this time it was his hands that clenched in her hair, holding her close as her lips roamed and brushed over the tip of his erection, her palm squeezing its root.

This is too much, he thought with desperation, I'm about to come.

"– put it in – open your mouth –" He breathed out, forcing her head to lean lower and let him simply slide his erection deep into her lips – they both moaned loudly – she from exertion, feeling the head of his cock hit her throat, and he from pleasure, her palate warm and moist, safe, welcoming him home.

"– suck –" He commanded, panting and groaning loudly, with ruthless, sharp thrusts slamming deep into her throat, her squeal telling him that she was unable to keep up.

"– ah – breathe through your nose – mmm – just a moment longer – fuck, fuck, oh, gods, swallow, swallowswallowswallow –" He mumbled out and moaned like a little boy, throwing his head back when he felt his seed spilling over her tongue – he forced himself between convulsions of his body to look at her and saw her face red from exertion and tears, her closed eyes, the curls of her dark hair stuck to her sweaty face, the base of his throbbing erection in her hand, a trickle of his release dripping from the corner of her mouth.

"– gods, you look perfect like this –" He gasped, feeling completely relaxed, filled with nothing but relief and that wonderful, pulsing, tingling sensation that was spreading in final waves through his loins.

His fingers loosened their grip and she pulled away, sliding his half-soft length out of her mouth with its loud splat against his lower abdomen, gasping for air loudly, panting heavily, all drenched in tears.

"– māzigon kesīr, hāedar (come here, little sister) – māzigon kesīr (come here) –" He said, extending his hand to her, and she immediately fell into his arms, laying between his thighs, her womb and breasts pressed against his naked body, while her face, as usual, found refuge in the hollow of his neck.

"– gōntan nyke ōdrikagon ao, zaldrītsos? (did I hurt you, little dragon?) –" He asked softly, placing a warm, loud kiss on her forehead, wiping with his thumb the remains of his seed from the corner of her mouth, feeling her whole body tremble in his embrace.

She shook her head.

"– n-no – just – it was so much –" She mumbled, and he sighed in relief, running his fingers down her bare spine.

"– I know, sweet girl – you've satisfied me – now it's time to rest –" He said and leaned towards her face, allowing their lips to meet in the wettest, most tender, softest kiss he'd ever experienced in his life.

He thought it would have been every man's dream to be kissed like that by a woman as they spread out comfortably, his hand covering their naked bodies with thick furs, letting her lie on top of him as she had so far.

He knew he should send her away, he knew everyone was already gossiping about them spending nights together in his chamber, but he couldn't do it.

He could not, after what they had done, stay in the cold bed or condemn her to the same fate.

Each time, she would fall asleep and wake up in his arms.

"– you fight better than ever, my Prince –" Criston Cole exhaled after another round of their sparring together. "– you're more focused and precise –"

He nodded, turning his face to the side, thinking with shame that it was because ever since she'd stayed in his bed, ever since he'd fallen asleep sunk into the warmth of her body, listening to her calm breathing, he'd experienced true rest at night and only been awakened by birdsong at dawn.

"– however, your mother is concerned about the nature of your relationship with your cousin –" Cole began uncertainly, but fell silent seeing the grimace of displeasure on his face.

He thought with frustration that the last thing he needed was lecturing.

"– if Queen Alicent wants to tell me something, she should do it in person –" He said coolly and nodded, taking the right position to attack, wanting to end the subject and move on to the next duel.

They both swung, and their blades collided in the air with a loud clink of steel.

"– your mother is worried about her future marriage – about her dignity –" Criston continued between blows, causing him to push against him with even more fury.

Her peaceful, sleeping face snuggled into his chest in the morning, her soft hand lying on his heart, the warmth and smell of her bare body, her sex, her hair, the sound of her calm breathing and birdsong outside the walls of the keep, his fingers running lazily down her spine, watching her with serenity.

I am her future, he thought furiously, but he didn't dare say it out loud.

They both stopped in mid-step when they heard the swish of an arrow, which, a moment later, hit straight on target – his cousin was standing on the other side of the courtyard, pointing her bow again towards the big straw shield, and once again she hit the centre.

After the incident with Floris, Aegon had assigned her a larger chamber and agreed that she could move around the fortress without guards, and he had not objected.

She spent most of her day in his company anyway: in his bed, in the heavens or, as now, practising at a similar time to him.

She never interrupted him or approached to speak to him, respecting his private space and the fact that he preferred what went on between them to stay behind the closed doors of his chamber.

However, this did not prevent him from admiring her graceful figure from afar and sinking into his own fantasies, from which his manhood swelled all over in his breeches.

"– my Prince – this is a dangerous game – the Queen and I just wish to spare you disappointment –" He said, and he only pressed his lips together without answering him.

He decided that it was beneath his dignity to discuss it with him.

"It occurs to me that Criston Cole has no love for me. I can see it in his look full of disapproval cast in my direction." She said lightly, massaging his back with her soft hands after their intense pleasure that same night, his muscles all tense and sore from the physical exertion.

He hummed under his breath, hearing her smile, lying on his stomach while she straddled him – he opened his eyelids lazily, feeling himself begin to slowly fall asleep.

He thought more and more about how her touch, her closeness, her scent had subconsciously calmed and relaxed him.

"He and my mother are trying to lecture me. As if I'm a fool who doesn't understand the consequences of his actions." He murmured resentfully, feeling tired and uncomfortable at the thought that they both still saw him as nothing more than a little child who refused to submit to their rules.

"They are the last people who should be instructing anyone in these matters." She said amused, and he froze, wondering why she had said that.

"What do you mean?" He asked curiously, thinking that perhaps Cole had a mistress he didn't know about.

He figured that he could use it against him if he wanted to moralise him again.

He turned onto his back when silence answered him, wanting to look at her – he blinked when he saw that she was pale, her eyes open wide in horror.

"What is it? What is that look?" He asked anxiously, feeling his heart thump harder in his chest.

She swallowed heavily and shook her head, her lips parted slightly in a deep breath.

"– it's just gossip – I shouldn't have said that –" She muttered, trying to smile and turn it into a joke.

His hand slid into her hair and his fingers clenched warningly in her soft curls.

"– hāedar –" He said coldly, letting her know that he was about to lose his patience and it would not be pleasant for either of them.

"– you shouldn't have heard it from me – gods, I was convinced you knew –" She mumbled, and he swallowed hard, feeling the cold sweat on his back.

"– speak –"

She looked at him pleadingly, her eyes filled with warmth and a plea for him not to make her do it – he longed to kiss her, longed to sink into her lips with the thought that this was surely nothing, her naked body at his fingertips.

"– Ser Criston – he broke his vows of chastity with a woman who is close to you – and whom you hold in the highest regard for obvious reasons –" She whispered in a trembling voice, looking at him in pain, her lips parted in a loud, heavy breath.

He felt his lips press together in a thin line as his heart froze in his chest for a moment, his eye red from burning tears of rage and humiliation, cold disappointment and bitterness running through his veins.

His mother.

His mother had no words of understanding for him, no time to embrace him, to squeeze his hand, to comfort him and soothe his suffering after he returned from Storm's End, but she had time to take care of herself and her delight in the arms of her sworn protector.

A man he treated as a friend, as a role model, whom he trusted, with whom he spent long evenings in discussion, believing they shared a bond.

And he, as soon as he left his chamber, headed for his mother's quarters and fucked her, lecturing him brazenly the next day about the nature of his relationship with his cousin.

He felt himself grow sick at the thought, his stomach squeezed into a knot as if he was about to vomit.

"Get out." He said coldly and let her go, feeling himself quivering all over, his chest rising and falling in rage and pain. "I want to be alone."

He only saw out of the corner of his eye that she nodded, her hands trembling with nerves as she put on her nightgown and robe, looking at him once more, as if she hoped he would change his decision.

He, however, simply sat and looked at his fingers, pleading in his mind that she should just leave.

When he heard her get off his bed and quietly head towards the door, opening and closing it behind her, he broke out into a silent cry, burying his head between his knees.

Alicent had humiliated him, abandoned him, forgotten him, but she had time for her lover, found opportunities to give him her warm gaze and tenderness, her closeness, leaving him, her son, alone.

He swallowed hard, choking on his tears, and lifted his face as if he suddenly realised what he had done, horrified by the silence around him.

"– hāedar? – come back – come back, sleep in my bed –" He called out towards the door, for some reason believing that she was still there, that she had not left him.

He sobbed when no sound answered him and hid his face in his hands, thinking that he didn't want to sleep alone, wondering in a reflex of despair whether to flee to the brothel again, ready to find shelter anywhere as long as he could feel the warmth of another body beside him.

He shuddered and sighed when he heard the door open again, her head peeking in.

She stood in the corridor.

She had not left him, his little sister.

Never.

He held out his hand to her and she closed the door behind her and ran to him, throwing herself into his arms.

It was the first time he had burst out crying in front of someone – the warmth of her body, her familiar arms, her familiar scent made him feel so wonderfully relieved that tears began to run down his face on their own.

He was panting heavily when, with greedy, impatient movements, he tore her robe and nightdress from her shoulders, exposing before him her sweet, plump breasts, between which at last he dared to press his face, like a child seeking refuge, sinking his fingers into the soft skin of her naked back.

He struggled to catch air in his lungs as her arms enveloped him tenderly, pressing him against her warm, smooth skin – her fingertips combed through his hair, allowing him to calm down.

"– I'm so sorry –" She whispered, and he simply closed his eyes, thinking that it wasn't her fault after all.

"– all my life she's been telling me about the value of virtue – of sacrifice – instilling in me a belief in principles and morals – and she's fucking her own guard –" He howled regretfully, the touch of her fingers, her hands trailing over his body bringing him relief.

"– I know –" She whispered, sinking down onto the soft cushions along with his body – his hand found her sweet breast, wanting to touch something warm and pleasant that would give him comfort.

He closed his eyes as she locked him in the tight embrace of her arms, and he curled up, lifting his knees almost under his chin, wanting her to be able to give shelter to his whole body, being a little boy again.

"– no matter what I do – no matter how hard I try, what I sacrifice – I'm not able to please her –" He confessed in shame, his voice shaking with sadness and regret, feeling tear after tear run down his cheek without the participation of his will.

Everything he held inside just flowed out of him.

He sighed quietly, feeling relieved when she simply leaned over and kissed the top of his head with a sweet tenderness, running her fingers through his long, white hair without saying a word.

He thought he deeply appreciated that she didn't do what Madam did – every time he was vulnerable in her embrace, Sylvi showered him with advice and guidance, trying to manipulate and direct him, as if he didn't understand that she wanted him to simply do what would be better for her.

However, she, his little sister, was silent, coexisting with him in his suffering, focusing only on giving him solace, on gentle and innocent gestures full of affection, from which a pleasant warmth melted inside his chest.

He thought, nestled in the soft embrace of her familiar, sweet arms, that what his mother was doing didn't matter.

Now he had someone all to himself.

His little dragon.

His hāedar.

"You could hide better with your weakness for our cousin. The servants no longer even whisper but openly speak of her walking into your chamber in the evenings and leaving it only after sunrise." Said Aegon, pacing around his room while he sat comfortably in one of the chairs, feeling absolutely nothing at his words.

You'd be surprised to hear what our mother is doing, he thought, but didn't dare to say it out loud.

He decided that it was better to keep this information to himself.

It might have been useful to him at some point in the future.

"It takes her a long time to learn. She is making progress, but she is very…mmm, eager to bring the language of our ancestors to perfection." He said with a wide, cold grin, cocking his head to the side.

He didn't feel like confessing to him.

Aegon raised his eyebrows and walked over to the empty chair on the other side of the table, sitting down in it with a heavy sigh, reaching, of course, for the wine jug.

"I thought you hated bastards. Do you desire to beget your own now, brother?" He asked, and he smiled even wider.

"A maiden will not bear a child. Anyway. That's not why I invited you here." He said, unfolding one of the maps he had prepared earlier, feeling his heart thump harder in his chest.

His hāedar had begged him endlessly to tell him of his and Criston's plan, and as the battle of Rook's Rest was about to take place and possibly determine the fate of the war, he decided that this once he would yield to her, knowing that her fears were justified.

Aegon could not think that he was plotting behind his back.

She longed to participate in this conversation with him, but he did not agree to it.

These were matters between them.

Between brothers.

"Criston Cole and our army are not heading towards Harrenhal." He said, and his brother laughed, as if he had heard some foolishness.

"And where the fuck do you think he's heading? To his home in Dorne?" He asked amused, taking a loud sip from his cup.

He licked his lower lip, trying to remain calm and not show his frustration.

"To Rook's Rest."

Aegon looked at him in disbelief and shook his head, as if hoping his younger brother would tell him he had not meant it.

"WHAT?" He hissed and stood up, placing his hands on his hips, circling around the table, as usual unable to sit still.

"Why? That wasn't the plan. We wanted to destroy Daemon and take back Harrenhal. What has changed? Why don't I know anything about it?"

"Now you know. Cole and I thought it best to cut Rhaenyra off from the land first. To block her ability to support Daemon in the future with her army other than by sea. We must plan a few steps ahead. Be patient, brother. That is all." He said, raising his hand over the map of the Seven Kingdoms, recalling the words his little sister had used when suggesting what he should say to him. "What we are doing is for you. It's not hard to throw an army and lose – this map is a chessboard, and we need to plan well for the whole game, not just the end. I ask you to trust us and agree to our attack."

Aegon blinked and furrowed his brow, as if something in his words troubled him.

"Yours?"

He swallowed hard, not taking his eyes off him, wondering how he should convey this to him.

He decided he would just be honest.

"We're planning an ambush. This whore will surely send dragons to Rook's Rest to help defend the fortress. Then me and Vhagar will step onto the battlefield and take the lives of both the beast and its rider, whoever it may be." He said, and his brother pressed his lips together and nodded.

"Very well. I will fly with you then."

He looked at him dully, wondering if he was really such a fool.

"The King cannot die. You and Sunfyre will guard the Red Keep. Our cousin will accompany and support me." He said, and Aegon slammed his fist on the table, startling him and making him jump up in his seat.

"No. She is less experienced and she will protect our family in the Red Keep. I will fly by your side to fight like a man. I am the King and that is my final decision." He said, and he looked away, feeling his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

He thought that perhaps it would be better this way and closed his eyes.

Maybe this way his problems would solve themselves.

His brother had ordered a meeting of the Small Council later that afternoon, intending, as he understood it, to convey to the assembled members the change of plans and his decision.

He knew their mother would be furious.

They all turned their heads towards the door when their cousin walked in – he thought, looking at her, his little sister, at her warm gaze directed towards him, at her full, glistening lips, at her graceful, soft body hidden beneath her leather riding attire, that Aegon wanted to inform her that it was he who would be setting out at his side to fight.

"What is this important matter that could not wait any longer?" Their mother asked, looking at his brother with a weariness he knew well.

He wondered if she had prayed for Cole and his return before falling asleep, feeling discomfort and frustration in his chest at the thought.

Aegon nodded, ready to speak.

"I wish to relieve our subjects who live in hunger. This fucking blockade has gone on for too long and I have decided to take measures to remedy it. Greyjoys are tactically avoiding choosing sides in this conflict, and only their fleet could face the Velaryons. In such situations, things are usually resolved through marriage. Lord Greyjoy has two sons, Toron and Rodrick, who are looking for a suitable candidate to marry. My mother and I believe that our beautiful cousin and her dragon will meet all of their father's requirements."

Silence fell all around him; he had the feeling that his body, although frozen in stillness, inwardly fell into some kind of panic attack, his heart pounding so hard in his chest that he felt like he was dying.

My mother and I believe that our beautiful cousin and her dragon will meet all of their father's requirements.

They wanted to marry her off.

They wanted to take her away from him.

He looked at her, at the woman who had brought him into the world, feeling deceived, betrayed, abandoned.

Alicent shook her head, her brown eyes big with sadness and regret, her lips parted slightly, as if she herself was suffering.

"You knew it would end like this. Your irresponsible behaviour forced us to take the right steps." She whispered, lowering her gaze to her fingers, with which she scratched the cuticles around her nails.

He thought that in that case his brother should marry her off too, since she was so eager to open her thighs before men, but he was unable to say such words about his own mother.

How would that testify to him?

He was her son.

Her behaviour, her sins would be a burden and a humiliation to him, Aegon, Helaena and Daeron.

He heard his hāedar at his side inhale sharply, as devastated as he was.

"– here is my home, my King – please –" She mumbled pleadingly, but his brother interrupted her.

"It would happen sooner or later. Better sooner, given the rumours that reach our ears about where you've been spending the last nights. My brother did not deny it, conversing with me today, that he is taking advantage of your…kindness. I want to put an end to this sinful practice."

"No." He heard his own voice, feeling rage, fury, despair, regret, anger, shame, fear.

No.

Not her.

"She is a Targaryen. 'Tis I, as your younger brother, who, by all rights, have precedence to her hand." He said coldly, feeling his nostrils flutter in a heavy, deep breath.

His mother twisted in her seat, looking at him in disbelief as his brother smiled piteously at his words, making a drop of cold sweat run down his neck.

"You can bed whomever you want, brother. But it is I, as King and her protector, who will decide who she marries, and sooner Vhagar will fit into the Dragon's Pit than I'll give you her hand." He exclaimed.

"Why?" He asked like a little boy, feeling that the tone of his voice, the way the word suddenly ripped from his throat was just pathetic.

It made him want to cry.

Aegon froze, looking at him in disbelief.

"Good gods. Since when can the Kingdom afford marriages out of the need of the heart? Your subjects are starving. This agreement can make us break the blockade. Are your desires more important than the sake of the Realm?" His brother asked and he heard her loud sobs – out of the corner of his eye he saw that she hid her face in her hands.

"My decision is final. I will have the crow sent to the Iron Islands with our generous offer later today. That is all." He said and slammed his palms on the table, rising and left the room, leaving them with his words.

"– no – please, don't let him do it, don't send me away, don't send me away, don't send me away –" She wept like a little child as soon as he walked into her chamber, throwing herself into his arms – he cuddled her into himself as if he longed to merge with her into one, feeling his heart in his throat.

Don't send me away.

"– shhh – shhh, sweet girl – I won't –" He whispered, placing loud, soft kisses on her temple and cheekbone, stroking her back and neck with his hands, trying to calm her, to soothe her, her body trembling in his embrace.

"– you're lying – you're going to sell me, you're going to abandon me like he did –" She wailed, choking on her own tears, falling into complete hysteria, her fingers clenched painfully tight on his back.

He grabbed her by the hair and tilted her head back, wanting her to look at him, doing it, however, so as not to cause her pain.

"What did I tell you? Back then, when we were lying under the stars. What did I promise in return for you taming a dragon?" He asked, and she swallowed hard, her pretty face all swollen from tears, her dark eyes big from the sadness and grief that squeezed her heart, her lips parted wide.

"– that my place will always be by your side – that you will protect me – that I will be your little sister –" She mumbled out with difficulty, breathing loudly through her mouth, looking at him pleadingly.

She closed her eyes and sighed as his thumbs brushed the moisture from her red, hot cheeks, his forehead pressed against hers exactly as it had been then.

That night.

"– and you are –" He hissed, clamping his fingers in her hair. "– you are fucking mine –"

[rubycruzin4abruzin]

we can’t be friends

Summary: Hazel, who has a giant crush on you, gets paired with you for a class project. She’s convinced you could never like her back because she thinks you’re straight, what happens when she’s proven wrong?

Pairing: Hazel Callahan x Fem!reader

Contains: mature language and content, hurt/comfort, smut, fingering (both receiving), oral, scissoring kinda, floor sex, loser!hazel, dom!hazel, fem!reader, sub!reader, 18+, MDNI

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: (loosely) based off the song We Can’t Be Friends by Ariana Grande, and requested by anonymous. Requests are still open for Hazel Callahan and Kit Tanthalos! Enjoy!

———

Hazel stared at you from across the classroom, a deep longing in her eyes. Mr. G was rambling something about 9/11 and how it somehow pertained to his divorce but she wasn’t absorbing a word of his lecture. All her attention was focused on you.

PJ noticed Hazel’s obvious sense of distraction and rolled her eyes. “It’s never gonna happen, Hazel.”

Hazel’s face fell slightly as she looked down at her lap. “You don’t know that…” she mumbled.

“I do, actually. My gaydar is perfect, and she…” PJ motioned her head towards you. “…is not.”

Hazel's head shot straight up to look at PJ. “Weren’t you the one who thought Brittany was gay?”

PJ scoffed. “Ok? So my gaydar had a malfunction. It’s fine now, and trust me. You do not occupy that pretty little head of hers.” She shot a pointed look at Hazel. “She doesn’t want you. She wants a boyfriend. With a penis.”

A sad puppy dog look covered Hazel’s face as she turned back to look at you. You certainly did have a pretty little head, with long silky hair falling over your shoulders, perfectly framing your face. Maybe it was because Hazel had little to no experience with makeup, but she always thought yours was flawless, with your eyeshadow consistently color coordinated with your outfits. Today it was hot pink to match your miniskirt and pink pumps, paired with fishnets and a black tank top with writing on it that Hazel couldn’t quite make out.

You took a break from taking notes to reach into your backpack and find your lipgloss, carefully reapplying a layer. A dopey smile formed on Hazel’s face as she watched the sparkly pink solution trace your lips, wondering how it would taste against her own. PJ rolled her eyes once again. “Get over it, Hazel.”

Before Hazel could even open her mouth to respond, the sound of Mr. G’s voice echoed across the room, turning everyone’s attention to the front. He was going on about some new partner project, Hazel could barely focus. She soon, however, perked up when he mentioned your name.

“You’re partnered with Hazel.” He finished.

Hazel’s heart leapt into her throat. She turned to look at you, and you met her gaze with a bright smile. She offered an awkward nod back, and quickly looked away.

Mr. G soon finished with the list of partners and the bell rang to signify the end of class. PJ walked out with Josie, who could be heard panicking over being partnered with Isabel. Hazel was packing up her stuff for her next class when she saw a figure out of the corner of her eye. She looked up to see you standing over her desk, a glossy grin spread across your face. “Hey Hazel.”

Hazel tried to swallow, but found her mouth was completely dry. She managed to squeak out a low “…hey.”

“Looks like we’re partners for this assignment. I wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to work on it after school? Today?” You brushed a lock of hair out of your face, making Hazel wish she could do it for you.

She licked her dry lips and nodded enthusiastically. “Sure.”

You pressed your phone into Hazel’s shaking hands and you both exchanged numbers before “bye’s” and “see you later’s.” Throughout the rest of the day, it was agreed over text that you would meet at your locker after school before heading to Hazel’s house to work on the project. You had originally suggested your place, but after Hazel mentioned her mom being out of town on business, you were all for meeting at her’s instead.

When the last bell rang, Hazel ran to the bathroom and spent fifteen minutes fussing over her hair, trying to get it to swoop just the right way. Unfortunately, PJ’s voice saying “she’s not gay, it’s never gonna happen” rang through her head. After deciding it just wasn’t worth it then, she gave up and dejectedly made her way over to your locker.

You were already there waiting for her, and seeing you lean against your locker in the empty hallway made Hazel’s heart flutter. You looked just as perfect as you had earlier today (except Hazel could’ve sworn you had pulled your black tank top just a little farther down). You noticed her approaching you, and flashed her a bright smile.

“Hey Hazel, ready to go?” You asked. Hazel nodded. “Sure.”

“Great! I’m excited to be paired with you. I’m sure after this project we’ll become great friends.” You lifted your hand to squeeze Hazel’s upper arm, but she couldn’t feel it over the pang in her chest. Your words swam around in her mind.

“Great friends…” she didn’t want to be your friend. She wanted to be more. She wanted to be the one to laugh with you, and hold you when you cried. She wanted to take you out on dates, and slow dance with you at prom. She wanted you to look up at her with your big doe eyes right before you kiss her, and wrap your arms around her shoulders to pull her closer while she savored the taste of your signature lip gloss. She wanted to touch you. God how she wanted to touch you…

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t do any of that. Not if you were too busy making goo-goo eyes at some football player.

You wanted to be friends. Hazel wanted you… but more than anything she wanted you in her life. If being friends was the only way to do that, then so be it.

—————

The drive to Hazel’s house was pretty much silent, minus a few attempts at small talk from you. Hazel made a few attempts to respond, but mainly kept her focus on the grip of her steering wheel and the road ahead.

Hazel turned into her driveway, and walked you through her front door, up the stairs, and into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She motioned for you to sit next to her on the floor, and got out her pencils and the project rubric. After about five minutes of complete silence, Hazel’s head shot up. “Snacks!”

You looked up from the rubric in confusion. “What?”

“Snacks! I forgot to offer you snacks when we came in. Shit, I’m sorry! I’m a terrible host.” Hazel panicked. You had to stifle a giggle under your hand. Somehow, Hazel was being so adorable right now.

“It’s ok, Hazel. I’m not hungry. I promise.” Hazel rubbed the back of her neck as a faint shade of red crept up on her cheeks.

“Sorry. You just…” Hazel trailed off. You cocked your head in question. “I… what?”

“You just… sometimes you make me nervous…” Hazel mumbled, staring down at her lap.

Your lips parted slightly in shock at her confession. “I make you nervous?”

“Look… just forget I said anything.” Hazel picked the project rubric back up. “So, do you have any idea what this project is supposed to be on? I wasn’t really paying attention…”

You pulled the rubric out of Hazel’s hands and tossed it to the side, forcing her to look at you. “I’m not gonna forget what you said. Hazel, how do I make you nervous?”

A defeated sigh left Hazel’s lips as she realized you weren’t going to give this up. She squeezed her eyes shut, choking out your name before her next words. “I’m sorry but… we can’t be friends.”

It took a moment for you to process Hazel’s words, but as soon as you did, your face crumpled out of hurt. You were trying not to cry, but you couldn’t decide if it was from hurt or confusion. “What do you mean?”

“We can’t be friends.” Hazel repeated, refusing to make eye contact with you. “Whenever I’m around you, my hands get all sweaty and my mouth gets dry, and I can barely get any words out because… I don’t know. You do this thing to me. I can’t focus in class because all I can think about is how pretty you are and what flavor your lip gloss is and…”

Hazel’s incessant rambling was interrupted by the feeling of something wet and sticky against her cheek. She blinked, trying to process what just happened.

You kissed her. On the cheek.

A faint blush crept onto her face as she lifted her hand to feel where your kiss still lingered. She finally met your gaze to see you staring back at her, a giddy smile covering your face.

“You kissed me.”

You brushed another lock out of your face and smiled down at your lap. “Yeah. I did.”

“But I’m not a boy.”

You shot your head up and gaped at her, bewildered. Did you hear her correctly?

“Huh? I know…” you trailed off as realization set into you. “You think I’m straight?”

“Well, yeah. You’re all like… feminine and stuff…” Hazel mumbled, clearly embarrassed.

A thick silence filled the room as you stared at her, wide eyed. Hazel held her breath and refused to look at you. She thought for sure she fucked up before she heard… laughter?

Hazel looked up to see you in absolute stitches from laughing so hard. On one hand, she was glad you didn’t seem mad at her, but on the other… she really had no idea what you were laughing at.

After a moment, you calmed down, and stuck out one of your wrists to show Hazel a pink, white, and orange threaded bracelet. “Trust me, I’m not straight. And this…” you gestured to your outfit. “…is called hyperfem, and it’s actually meant to deter the male population.”

Several thoughts swirled around Hazel’s mind. Some “fuck PJ” or “how did I not notice the bracelet?” But mostly, all she could think about was how you were sitting in front of her, out and proud, in an empty house, and beaming from ear to ear.

You giggled at Hazel’s astonished expression and looked down at your lap. “I was kind of wondering why you had never talked to me before. Guess I know now.”

Hazel gulped. “I’m sorry, I…”

Suddenly, you decided to cut her off by tossing all the papers between you to the side, and crawling over to her lap. You put one hand on her knee and brought your face as close to hers as you could without touching. Hazel’s breath hitched at this new position, and you hummed as your eyes dropped to her lips. “Now that you know I’m gay… what do you plan to do about it?”

It took a moment for your words to settle into Hazel’s mind, but as soon as they did, she brought her face forward and kissed you, melting instantly at your touch. Her stomach filled with butterflies as she shivered from the pure adrenaline. She couldn’t believe how soft your lips were, and the taste of your lipgloss felt absolutely intoxicating.

You pulled away suddenly, smirking as Hazel whined at the loss of your touch. “So… what flavor is my lip gloss?”

Hazel hummed in thought, running the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip. “Watermelon?”

“Bingo.”

A devilish grin spread across Hazel’s face before she grabbed your jaw and pulled you back in, forcing you to tuck your knee into her lap to keep balance. Her tongue danced against your bottom lip, begging for entrance. A small giggle escaped from the back of your throat as you parted your lips and let her deepen the kiss.

Hazel’s hand left your jaw and slowly made its way down to gently caress the thigh you still had perched in her lap. You felt your body shiver at this new sensation, causing Hazel to pull away and survey your reaction.

“Is this ok?” She asked in a low voice. You nodded, your half-lidded eyes clouded with lust. “Please.”

Hazel caught your lips in hers again, and gripped at your fishnet-clad thigh. You moaned at the feeling of her fingertips caressing your nearly-bare skin. You had no idea your thighs could be so sensitive, but here you were, falling apart at her literal fingertips.

By now you were mentally begging Hazel to push her hand up just a little higher, so you grabbed the chain around her neck and pulled her close until you were on your back and she was hovering over you. Her big blue eyes looked like pools you were dying to swim in as she peered down at you with a look of nothing but content.

You dragged your top teeth against your bottom lip and giggled. “Tell me again how pretty I am?”

Hazel smirked as she continued to rub her thumb along the inside of your thigh. “So pretty. Like a princess.”

Your body involuntarily shivered at this new nickname, and Hazel found it impossible not to notice. “Oh, you like that? Princess?”

A muffled moan vibrated against your puffy pink lips in response. Fuck, when did Hazel get so… dominant?

She ran her hand just under the edge of your tank top, looking up at you for approval. You nodded, and she got to work pulling it up and over your head, leaving your stomach exposed and your chest covered with nothing but a black lace bralette. Hazel gulped at the sight of you, her spontaneous dominance momentarily leaving her. She swore she had never seen anything this beautiful. She leaned down again to kiss you once, softly and sweetly, before slowly leaving a trail of kisses to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, and down to the top of your breasts.

Hazel’s big blue eyes stared up at you as she ran her tongue across the top of one of your tits, gently testing the waters. You let out a gentle moan, purely from the eroticism of it all. You swore you could cum just from looking into Hazel’s fuck me eyes.

“Hazel,” you breathed out, sitting up slightly to lean on your elbows. “You can take it off.”

A nervous look clouded Hazel’s features for a brief moment before being replaced by one dark with desire. “Whatever you want, Princess.”

God, you could feel yourself get wetter every time she used that stupid nickname.

Getting your bra off wasn’t necessarily a fast and flawless task for Hazel, as she was used to the simplicity of sports bras rather than the confusing clasps of a bralette. Luckily, you both had a good sense of humor about it, which made the situation far less awkward. Eventually, Hazel opted to just pull it over your head like a t-shirt, tossing it over her shoulder immediately after.

Hazel never thought she’d see the day where she’d have the Popular Princess of Rockbridge High’s tits practically served to her on a silver platter, but here they were, exposed in all their glory, and hers for the taking. She took one of your nipples in her mouth, running her tongue along the erect bud as she used her hand to gently massage the other. It felt incredible, but as much as you loved watching Hazel Callahan play with your tits, there was another part of you that was much more desperate to be played with.

Your hips involuntarily bucked against Hazel’s stomach, forcing her to pull away and click her tongue disapprovingly. “So impatient. Never took you for a sub.”

“Never took you for a dom.” You fired back, surprisingly quickly considering how mushy your brain felt.

Hazel simply shrugged and flashed a wicked grin. “Guess you do something to me.”

She slipped one hand down to the waistband of your skirt and started to undo your belt buckle until it was loose enough for her to slide it down your legs. Her fingers danced along your now completely exposed fishnets while she plucked at the delicate little strings.

“Funny,” she started, gently pulling at the thin threads. “If you weren’t wearing anything under these, I would totally keep them on while I fucked you.”

Her blunt choice of words sent palpitations straight to your clit, forcing a shiver down the length of your entire body. She either didn’t notice or pretended not to because she just shrugged. “Too bad you are. Gotta take them off.”

In a way, you were grateful for the black panties you had worn under your fishnets. Watching Hazel undress you to any capacity was a bigger turn on than anything any porn site had to offer. You made a mental note to wear more clothes next time.

By now you were down to nothing but the aforementioned silky black panties. Hazel moved her hand back to your thigh, rubbing her thumb along the inside teasingly. She reached up and allowed her finger to gently brush over the tiny crease where your leg ended and your panties began, looking up at you for affirmation before continuing.

You sighed, rolling your bottom lip between your front teeth. “Please Hazel. Please touch me.”

Hazel’s stomach couldn’t help but flutter every time one of your desperate pleas hit her ears, but she tried not to let it show. Still, it was difficult to ignore the dampness in her boxers, thankfully still hidden by her shorts. On the other hand, your panties were on full display, the black color managing to hide your wet spot from Hazel’s vision, but failing to keep your secret when she dragged her finger up your clothed cunt.

“Holy shit.” Hazel muttered under her breath. “So fucking wet already?”

You were far too turned on to even begin to respond to her taunts, opting instead to raise your hips and signify Hazel to take off your panties. Hazel, however, had other plans. She continued to stroke the length of your covered cunt, enjoying watching your hips stutter every time she so much as grazed your clit.

As much as you loved the cloth friction rubbing against your slit, the growing pool of wetness that resulted was beginning to make you feel suffocated. You lifted your hips to chase her touch, moaning with desperation. Hazel smirked, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Patience, pretty girl. I can’t do anything until you tell me what you want.”

Hazel’s finger picked at the waistband of your panties, while her darkened eyes stared down at you. You struggled to speak, your brain far too mushy to form a complete sentence. How in the hell were you this fucked out, and Hazel had barely touched you?

“P-please Haze… I need you mph… take them off…”

Another wicked grin appeared on Hazel's face as she leaned down again to praise your obedience. “Such a good girl.”

Her mouth latched onto your jaw as her fingers curled over the top of your waistband. You raised your hips, and Hazel pulled off your panties in one quick motion.

Now that you were completely exposed, you felt completely exposed, which wasn’t necessarily the most comfortable feeling. Your legs began to shut involuntarily, catching the attention of the girl hovered above you.

Her eyes went wide as she crawled off of you and put her hands up. “Hey, woah, are you ok? Do you wanna stop? I’m sorry! I should have checked in more. We can stop if you want. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Hazel’s sudden transition out of her dominant alter ego caught you off guard. Still though, you couldn’t help but melt a little. She was being so sweet, making sure you were ok, you almost felt a little bad for her. You didn’t mean to freak her out.

You sheepishly smiled up at her, a little embarrassed. “I’m fine. Really. It’s just a little weird being the only one naked is all.”

Hazel blinked at you, processing your words. Almost like a lightbulb went off in her head, she jumped up and practically tore all the clothing off her body, throwing each piece over her shoulder as soon as it was off. You couldn’t help but notice a string of arousal momentarily connecting her slick to her boxers, breaking only after she slid them down her legs.

Hazel’s body read like a painting, with each brush stroke precisely positioned to perfect the masterpiece. Her wetness glistened from in between her legs, and you couldn’t help but admire the beauty standing before you. However, you didn’t get to admire for long, as Hazel was already repositioning herself over you.

“Better?” She asked.

You sighed. “Definitely.”

Hazel immediately got to work trailing kisses down your body while thumbing through the folds of your slit. Soft moans echoed from your lips every time she’d slightly dip into your entrance for some more lubricant, and then frustrated groans would roll out whenever she immediately pulled out. God, she had access to every part of you and still managed to be such a tease.

Eventually, Hazel kissed her way down to your pelvic bone, hovering her face just over where you wanted her the most. Her hot breath tickled your dripping wet folds, making you tremble with anticipation. She stuck out her tongue and gently kitten-licked your clit to gauge your reaction, staring up at you as she did. A soft whimper left your throat, causing a smug smirk to form on Hazel’s face. Starting to gain some confidence back, she locked eyes with you and slowly licked up the entire length of your cunt, from your entrance all the way to the hood of your clit. You whined, throwing your head back against the carpet.

“Feel good?” Hazel asked, not bothering to wait for your response as she already knew the answer.

Hazel dived into you like a starved woman, lapping up your slick like it contained the very thing she needed to survive. Broken moans fell from your parted lips as you desperately grasped at her hair, trying to keep her exactly where you wanted her. Your hips bucked against her face, a part of you dying to see her features covered in your juices.

Her name found its way out of your mouth, almost involuntarily. “Hazel I… mph… fuck…”

“Fuck yeah. I love it when you say my name, pretty girl.” Hazel exclaimed, eyes rolling in the back of her head. You groaned. Dominant Hazel could have very easily put you into cardiac arrest, you were pretty sure.

The feeling of Hazel’s tongue against your engorged clit was hypnotizing, but your entrance was also twitching for attention. You wanted, no, you needed her inside you.

You grabbed Hazel’s hair and pulled it to lift her off you. She started to whine at the loss of your taste, but quickly looked up at you to make sure you were alright. “Everything ok, princess?”

“Hazel, I… I wanna ride your fingers. Please.” You panted breathlessly.

Hazel’s body shifted at your bold choice of words before a dark desire clouded her face again. “Of course.”

She reached up and crashed her lips against yours again, the taste of your own pussy still lingering on her tongue and coating your mouth in the most arousing way. You both readjusted to where she was on her back and you were now hovering over top of her. She adjusted her right hand in the “come here” position with her middle and ring fingers standing, and rested it in the middle of her thigh.

“All yours, honey.” She looked up at you with a goofy smile and half lidded eyes.

You positioned your entrance over her fingertips, shifting slightly before sliding down onto her knuckles. Hazel's fingers curled to hit your g-spot, forcing your head to fall back with a throaty groan.

“Feel good, gorgeous?” Another one of Hazel’s praises fell from her lips.

“Fuck Hazel, those nicknames are gonna kill me…” you whined.

Hazel smirked. “Oh yeah, you like that? Gorgeous? Pretty girl? My princess?”

As you were drinking in Hazel’s sweet nothings and riding her long fingers, your eyes fell down to her lap. Her exposed cunt glistened with her own arousal, dripping down her thighs and onto your carpet. A wicked idea popped into your head, and you couldn’t help but smirk.

Your hand traveled down to the folds of Hazel's slick, forcing the brunette beauty underneath you to jump at the sudden touch. “Honey, what are you…”

“Is this ok?” You asked softly. Hazel nodded quickly, realizing what you were getting at. You hastily licked your fingers and slid them into her twitching cunt.

Hazel moaned at the feeling of your fingers inside her. “Fuck, baby. Feels so good. So good to me.”

The longer you bounced on Hazel’s hand, the more you felt that familiar tight feeling in your abdomen. “Hazel, I’m…”

“Yeah… mph… me too.” She managed to whisper under her breath.

Hazel positioned her thumb to rub against your clit, forcing your body to tremble in sputtered shocks. You curled your palm to stimulate her clit, and you could tell she was almost as close as you were.

“Hazel, can we… mph… cum together?” You asked, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth.

The brunette underneath you was already starting to fall apart. “Fuck baby… so close… let go… I’ll follow… yeah?”

You rolled your hips against her, using your free hand to position her wrist where you needed her to touch you. Your hips sputtered, your core tightened, your clit throbbed. “Hazel, I… mph fUCK!”

Your head rolled back as you let out a sound so primal, you weren’t even sure it was sexy. Hazel soon followed, her groans and whimpers reverberating around the room as her hips sputtered under you. You rode out your climaxes together, the erotic sounds of sex disappearing into the nearly empty house.

Hazel couldn’t believe it. Not only was her longtime crush gay, not only was she fucking you, but she had just given you a mind-blowing orgasm at the same time you gave her one. Fuck, the very thought almost made her cum a second time.

You rolled off of her, and snuggled into her chest while she wrapped her arm around you. “Wow…”

“That was… unexpected…” Hazel muttered breathlessly.

You giggled. “Yeah, no kidding.”

A comfortable silence filled the room, both of you just enjoying the presence of the other, the project from before long forgotten.

You looked up at her, planting a soft kiss on her jaw. “Still think we can’t be friends?”

“I think we’re a little more than friends now.” Hazel chuckled.

Your heart fluttered at her suggestion. “Yeah? You want to?”

“I mean, yeah, if you want to.”

You nodded, snuggling back into her chest, close to falling asleep after so much activity. Hazel continued to stare up at the ceiling, a goofy grin plastered across her features.

“PJ is gonna lose her mind after this.”

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗦𝗔𝗨𝗗𝗔𝗗𝗘

　　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N and Matt have a long-distance relationship. After months of not seeing each other, Y/N decides to surprise Matt in LA.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, from @lizziesx

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N sighed in relief as she left her last class of the day, closing her eyes momentarily and thanking that classes always ended early on Friday, before walking again, heading towards the Starbucks on the college campus.

A smile spread across her face when she saw her group of friends already waiting for her at their table, Julia already holding her usual, Caramel Machiatto.

"Oi meninas! (Hi girls!)" Y/N spoke with a smile in her voice, pulling out the reserved chair for herself, hanging her bag on the back of it, and sitting on the seat.

"Oi gatinha, como foi Direito Constitucional? (Hi kitty, how was Constitutional Law?)" Gabriela, who sat on her left, asked as Julia passed the drink to Y/N, who thanked her with a wink before taking a sip.

"Foi um porre, o professor adora pegar no meu pé, mas pelo menos eu tirei nota máxima no trabalho. (It was horrible. The teacher loves picking on me, but at least I got a perfect grade on my work.)" Y/N rolled her eyes, snorting at the mention of her teacher.

"Eu sei exatamente o que vai levantar o seu astral. (I know exactly what will lift your spirits.)" Anna, the third and last girl in the group, spoke as she raised her right hand, receiving everyones attention. "Achei um barzinho incrível na Vila Madalena, álcool é a solução pros nossos problemas. (I found an amazing bar in Vila Madalena, alcohol is the solution to our problems.)" She finished, a smile on her face, she was their typical Happy Hour organizer.

Julia and Gabriela smiled equally big, nodding their heads. By Brazilian tradition, Happy Hour always took place on Friday, so they were already looking forward to the idea through all day.

"Bora, amiga? (You coming, bestie?)" Anna turned to Y/N, waiting for confirmation after not seeing her react like she usually did.

"Não vou conseguir, meninas. Vou pra LA hoje. (I can't make it, girls. I'm going to LA today.)" She replied, unable to contain a smile when she mentioned the city.

"Hmm, vai visitar o boy? (Hmm, are you going to visit your boy?)" Julia said with a smile, stirring her drink with the straw.

"Sim, fazem meses que não nos vemos e não aguento mais só falar com ele por Facetime. Comprei passagem para ir hoje, e volto na segunda-feira, infelizmente. Se eu faltar mais uma aula, eu me fodo. (Yes, we haven't seen each other for months, and I can't stand just talking to him on Facetime. I bought a ticket to go today, and I'll be back on Monday, unfortunately. If I miss one more class, I'll get fucked.)" Y/N explained, taking a sip of her drink.

Y/N and Matt met on one of the girl's trips to Los Angeles years ago when she was still in her gap year, she and her parents had a house in the city and always went there on every vacation.

Their first meeting was an unusual one, but it caused the two to exchange numbers, keep contact, and, consequently, fall in love.

Because Y/N is Brazilian, lives with her mother in São Paulo and studies law at Mackenzie, she needed to travel back and forth from Brazil to be able to see her boyfriend in LA, since she wanted to finish her studies in her country.

The two agreed to continue their relationship in a long distance, and surprisingly, they handled that format very well. Their love for each other only intensified every day, and they felt like they fell in love all over again every time they saw each other in person, always reminding themselves that distance gave them a reason to love harder.

"Você vai de carro até o aeroporto? Ou sua mãe vai te levar? (Are you going to drive to the airport? Or is your mom going to take you there?)" Gabriela turned to her, seeing her shake her head.

"Nenhum, eu vou de Uber. O vôo é às 12pm e minha mãe tem plantão no hospital hoje, e eu não quero deixar meu carro no estacionamento do aeroporto. (None, I'm taking an Uber. The flight is at 12 pm, and my mom has a shift at the hospital today, and I don't want to leave my car in the airport parking lot.)"

"Eu te levo, amiga. (I'll take you, babes.)" Julia interrupted. "Depois eu me arrumo e vou direto pro tal bar que a Anna achou. (Then I'll get ready and go straight to that bar that Anna found.)"

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Aproveita o seu boy e manda atualizações no grupo, eu quero saber tudo. (Enjoy your boyfriend and send updates to the group, I want to know everything.)" Julia spoke as she closed the trunk of her car, helping Y/N place her bags onto the airport cart.

"Eu prometo que vou atualizar vocês todos os dias. (I promise I'll update you every day.)" Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, smirking. "Obrigada pela carona, amiga. (Thanks for the ride, babes.)" She added, pulling Julia into a tight hug.

"Não precisa agradecer, só mandar o pix. (No need to thank me, just send the pix.)" Julia responded jokingly, laughing when Y/N slapped her arm.

"Idiota. (Jerk.)" Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile on her face, walking up the sidewalk and starting to push the cart with her bags.

"Também te amo! (love you too!)" Julia shouted as she got into her car.

Y/N quickly entered the airport, fishing her phone out of her jeans pocket and unlocking the screen, searching for her flight information. Her eyes read the boarding gate before putting her phone away again and pushing the cart to the check-in counter.

The process didn't take long, and soon, Y/N was able to sit in one of the chairs near her gate, taking out her phone again and unlocking it. Her thumb searched for the messaging app, opening it and seeing some chats with new texts.

The girl ignored all of them, as usual, and clicked on her mom's one, reading the latest texts.

"Honey, Matt sent me a text, he said that you haven't spoken to him all day and he is worried, thinking that you died."

"I said you had a test today at college and you couldn't use your phone during it."

"I think it's a good idea for you to send him a text before he's the one to come to Brazil."

Y/N pressed her lips together, trying to hold back her laughter. They were both so dramatic.

The girl sent her mom a brief text letting her know that she was already at the airport and assuring her that she would talk to Matt.

Her thumb clicked the back button, and her eyes quickly found Matt's chat, seeing 10 new messages and 3 missed calls. Y/N rolled her eyes, not holding back a smile. She understood why he was so worried, since the two of them talked via messages and calls practically all day long, every day, her not sending anything other than a "good morning, my love" was worrying.

But it wasn't her fault that, after class, she had to go home quickly and pack her bags, which she obviously left to pack at the last minute.

Y/N briefly looked at the time, knowing that Los Angeles' time zone was different from Brazil's, before clicking the call button, waiting for her boyfriend to answer.

"Baby?" Matt's voice sounded on the other end.

"Hi my love, I'm sorry for not talking to you today. I had a test this morning, and I couldn't use my phone during it." The girl spoke, persisting in the lie created by her mother, as her eyes traveled across the space in front of her, seeing people walking back and forth with suitcases in their hands.

"It's okay, I was just worried." The boy spoke in a low tone. The sound of objects moving in the background echoed through the line. "How was the test? I'm sure you did well."

"It was-" Y/N looked up at the flight board, seeing that hers was taking off in 20 minutes, meaning they would soon announce it, and the girl would have to board. "It was great, baby. Honey, I need to go now, Julia is here at home doing some college work. I'll call you later. I love you, bye." She spoke quickly, cursing under her breath after hanging up the call.

She knew Matt would be sad about the way she acted, but she hoped that she going to LA would be enough for him to forgive her.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The sound of the plane pilot's voice coming through the speaker woke the girl from her sleep. Her eyes opened as her ears picked up the message that the landing would be made in a few minutes.

Y/N straightened up in her seat, her eyes going to the window on her side, seeing that the sky was almost completely dark. She took her jacket out of her purse, wanting to protect her bare arms from the cold of Los Angeles, since in Brazil was 40°C and here would be 9°C. She prepared her body for the thermal shock.

The shudder of the plane warned her that the landing was going to happen, her hands tightly gripping the arm rest as her eyes closed. She hated that feeling.

A few minutes later, passengers were allowed to leave. Y/N got up from her seat and grabbed her purse, following the line of people until she entered the airport. The girl unlocked her phone and saw that it was already 7 pm LA time. Her notification bar was full of messages from Matt, which made her heart sink. She could only imagine the anxiety her boyfriend was feeling.

Her eyes went over the last text he sent 10 minutes ago, warning her that he would film the car video with his brothers in 20 minutes. A smile spread across her face, her plan would work.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Matt, get rid of that ugly face right now." Nick spoke from the backseat, leaning on the side of Chris's seat as he looked at Matt's side profile.

"No can do. He's naturally ugly." Chris said, letting out a laugh followed by a yell when Nick slapped his forehead.

"Shut up, dumbass. we all look the same."

The oldest leaned away at lightning speed when he saw Chris quickly turn around with an angry expression, his right hand raised, ready to hit Nick back.

"Hey, stop!" Matt said, placing his left arm between the two of them.

"Then get rid of that angry face." Nick ordered again, leaning against the sides of the front seats, meeting Matt's eyes in the rearview mirror momentarily.

"He's like this because his little girlfriend has been ignoring him all day." Chris said as he looked at the camera, smiling when he saw Matt cross his arms and sigh deeply.

The two of them didn't know what was going on between Matt and Y/N, or if anything was going on at all, but Matt had been frowning since that morning, walking around the entire house while cleaning up all the messes he put his eyes on.

Nick had asked him what happened at one point in the day, but Matt just said that Y/N was acting weird before turning his back to his brother, going back to cleaning the video game equipment in the living room.

A knock on the window on the passenger side made the boys jump in fright; Nick let out a scream, pushing his own body onto the seat behind Chris's, while Chris bent down and covered his head with his hands, as if that would protect him from whatever that was. Matt turned abruptly towards the door on his side, moving his upper half away from it, almost lying on top of the car console.

It took a few seconds for Matt to register that whoever was knocking on his window was his girlfriend. His blue eyes widened, and his mouth opened in a perfect O, his heart racing a mile a minute as he felt his hands shake slightly.

"Are you really going to leave me standing out here?" Y/N's voice sounded muffled as she took some steps back and smiled, her right hand hidden behind her back.

"Y/N!" Nick shouted, jumping into his usual seat and pulling on his door handle repeatedly while begging Matt to unlock it.

"Y-Y/N?" Matt whispered, still in disbelief, ignoring his brother completely.

"If you don't open that door right now and give your girl a good kiss, I'm going to hit you." Chris spoke after straightening up in his seat, fixing the beanie on his head. "Go!" He spoke loudly, pushing Matt, who seemed to finally wake up from his trance.

The brunette's right hand flew to the button to unlock the doors, clicking there before pulling the handle, opening his door with a thud.

Matt had never gotten out of his car so fast, his feet running a few steps until he reached Y/N, pulling her into his arms in a tight hug, lifting her a few inches off the ground and spinning her in the air, a loud laugh escaping his mouth as he closed his eyes, praying in his mind that this wasn't just a dream, but that if it was, that he never had to wake up again.

"Baby, I... you..." Matt pulled away slightly, shaking his head as he tried to process that his girlfriend was actually there, right in front of him. His blue eyes ran over Y/N's face and body, recording her image in his mind, despite already having it drawn, painted, and stuck in his soul. "You are here." He whispered, his eyes burning with tears.

"I'm here, baby." Y/N spoke in the same tone. "Oh my love, don't cry." Her eyes filled with tears as well, and a laugh escaped her lips. God, she loved him so much.

"So that's why you were ignoring me." Matt sniffled. His right hand went up to his face, passing them over his eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I had to stop answering you for a while so I could prepare this surprise." She spoke, feeling her heart racing and butterflies in her stomach from the look in Matt's eyes. He looked so amazed. "But I have a present for you, as an apology." Y/N said slowly before taking her hand away from her back, showing the prettiest bouquet of tulips.

"Oh my-" Matt's eyes were wide, and his mouth was open, his heart freezing for a few seconds before speeding up like never before. Tears escaped his eyes without him even feeling them, while his cheeks burned with adrenaline. "This is for me?" He asked, perplexed.

"Of course, meu amor (my love). I saw it on the way here, and I thought: "Why not buy beautiful flowers for the prettiest boy in the world?"" She said softly, her eyes scanning his reactions closely.

"Thank you so much. I've never received flowers before." He sniffed, taking the bouquet delicately, as if any sudden movement could destroy it.

"They are so beautiful together." Chris commented a little away from them, his eyes also filled with tears. What they said was real. When a triplet cries, the other two cries as well.

Nick, who was next to Chris, nodded, a giant smile decorating his face as his hands held the camera, the lens focused on the couple, capturing the cute moment.

"This is true love, Y/N came all the way from Brazil just to see this idiot, and she brought flowers!" Chris continued to Nick in a low tone, not wanting to disturb the couple.

"At least now he'll be able to film today's video properly. He was worse than Grumpy from Snow White." The oldest triplet muttered from behind the camera loud enough for Matt to hear, letting out a laugh at the dirty look he gave him.

"Yes, but he's my Grumpy." Y/N spoke up, receiving grunts of disgust from Chris and Nick and a laugh from Matt.

The brunette took his free hand to Y/N's cheeks, pulling her lightly for a kiss, the first of that night. A contented sigh escaped the girl's mouth, who instantly relaxed and brought her hands to Matt's covered waist, squeezing the hoodie over her fingers while feeling like fireworks exploded inside her.

"Ew guys, that's enough love for one night." Chris said, covering his and Nick's eyes playfully.

Y/N pulled away from Matt, unable to contain her laughter, finally turning to the other two brothers.

"I think you have a video to film, don't you?" She asked wryly, smirking as she saw Chris roll his eyes and raise his arms in surrender, as if he hadn't been crying just seconds ago.

Nick turned, walking back to the car to put the camera in its place, and Chris followed, getting into the back seat next to the one Nick sits.

"I'll demand my hug later, Y/N." Nick shouted from inside the driver seat, trying to balance himself on it as he fiddled with the camera's focus.

"What do you think about being our guest on today's video?" Matt hugged her from behind, securely holding the bouquet, while resting his head in the crook of Y/N's neck, breathing in the scent of his girlfriend's perfume that he missed so much.

The girl smiled, even though he couldn't see it, stroking his left hand that rested on her waist while nodding her head.

Their fans would go crazy.

[reasonsforhope]

We’ve just taken a major step toward cleaning up space junk.

On Monday, October 2, the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) in the US issued its first fine for space debris, ordering the US TV provider Dish to pay $150,000 for failing to move one of its satellites into a safe orbit. 

“It is definitely a very big symbolic moment for debris mitigation,” says Michelle Hanlon, a space lawyer at the University of Mississippi. “It’s a great step in the right direction.”

But it might be more than just a symbolic gesture by the FCC. Not only does it set a precedent for tackling bad actors who leave dangerous junk orbiting Earth, but it could send shock waves through the industry as other satellite operators become wary of having their reputation tarnished. While the $150,000 FCC fine was modest, Dish’s share price fell by nearly 4% immediately following its announcement, pushing the company’s $3 billion valuation down about $100 million.

The FCC’s action could also help breathe new life into the still-small market for commercial removal of space debris, essentially setting a price—$150,000—for companies such as Astroscale in Japan and ClearSpace in Switzerland to aim for in providing services that use smaller spacecraft to sidle up to dead satellites or rockets and pull them back into the atmosphere...

Another hope is that the FCC’s fine will encourage other countries to follow suit with their own enforcement actions on space junk. “It sends a message out of America taking leadership in this area,” says Newman. “This is starting the ball rolling.”

Today there are more than 8,000 active satellites, nearly 2,000 dead satellites, and hundreds of empty rockets orbiting Earth. Managing these objects and preventing collisions is a huge task, and one that is becoming increasingly difficult as the number of satellites grows rapidly. The worsening situation is largely due to mega-constellations of hundreds or thousands of satellites from companies like SpaceX and Amazon, designed to beam the internet to any corner of the globe...

Hanlon says there are further measures that could be taken to discourage companies from failing to dispose of satellites properly. “Honestly, I would love to see that if you don’t meet your license requirements, you’re banned from launching for a number of years,” she says. “If you’re driving under the influence you can have your license revoked. These are the kinds of measures we need to see.”

Chris Johnson, a space law advisor at the Secure World Foundation in the US, says the loss of reputation for Dish about the satellite situation might be worse than any fine it could have received. “They promised to remove it and they didn’t,” he says. “It’s like the first operator of a car to get a speeding ticket.”

The fall in the company’s share price appears to be indicative of that reputational damage. The fine may not have been as severe as it could have been, but the FCC’s actions can be seen as a warning to other companies to tackle space junk. “This is going to be on their record and their reputation,” says Johnson. “It’s not trivial.”

-via MIT Technology Review, October 5, 2023

Always nice to see steps taken to tackle a problem BEFORE it causes incredibly massive issues

[periprose]

Priestess | Sayyadina

Faith is falling in Sietch Tabr. Reverend Mother Ramallo has a solution– marrying Naib Stilgar to one of the Sayyadina, in order to greater connect the people and the spiritual way, and enable Lisan Al Gaib’s journey to freedom, when he appears. This is your story as the chosen priestess.

Genre: arranged marriage to lovers, fluff, smut, (oral, piv, 18+) angst, lots of sci-fi Dune book references

Word count: 9.8k

Fremen Dictionary:

Sayyadina: Lower ranking priestess(es) who have not yet drank the Water of Life

Naib: Leader of a Sietch

Sietch: Cave/place of assembly by the Fremen

Sahar: Reader’s Sietch Name

Biet: Reader’s Fremen Name

Stilgar climbs up the rocky terrain, his fingers adeptly finding well-known grooves in the stone as he lifts himself to the absolute top of the cliff.

He needs some time to think over his conversation with Ramallo, Sietch Tabr’s Reverend Mother, before he heads back to the Sietch. Stilgar is not one to stay away from his people, his community— but for once in his life, it’s too close for comfort.

As Naib, there will be too many people coming to him at once, asking for his advice and input on things he is normally capable of answering. Friends and family will approach him closely, knowing too much about him to tell there’s something on his mind, and expecting him to be transparent as he typically is.

For this moment, though, he needs his head to be clear. He cannot be as jovial as he might’ve been in the past.

What Ramallo offered him is a subject matter he does not take lightly. 

The sun is setting as Stilgar remembers their conversation from the previous hour.

/

“As Sayyadina, as Reverend Mother, my honest recommendation is that the Northern Fremen need to replenish their numbers.” Ramallo speaks in hushed tones of Chakobsa, the native Fremen language.

Stilgar is slightly confused. The concept of child bearing is not one that he has to be concerned with, as he, despite his older age, has not been married yet.

Something he admonishes himself for.

“There are many of us, but we could always expand. I have already suggested to the South that they could send some of their people here, if they would like to be.” Stilgar frowns. “So many Fremen in the south, densely packed, is an easy way to be attacked. We could spread out more.”

“Save your war-speak for later, Stilgar.” Ramallo tuts, and then sighs a long, languid sigh that has Stilgar feeling much younger than he really is. “I don’t mean simply bringing people here.”

He’s never sure what the Reverend Mother wants, but he always gives her his full attention. Something about staying in his faith for so long has kept him here, grounded, seated in front of Ramallo, ready to do what needs to be done. Not just for the Mahdi, as he is often teased about, but so he doesn’t lose himself.   

“Please. Tell me.” He asks, kneeling his head down in a solemn movement, and Ramallo knows he’s ready for this.

“The youth of Sietch Tabr don’t believe in our faith anymore, do they?” Ramallo wraps a gnarled finger around her wrist, feeling a minor form of trepidation she is sure real Bene Gesserit have never felt. “They laugh when we speak of Lisan al Gaib.” 

“They have not read the prophecy.” Stilgar swallows, unsure if he can really speak on this, when he regards himself as a humble follower. “They laugh because they do not believe in the Mahdi to free us.”

Stilgar thinks of his niece, Chani, who suggests that a Fremen could be the Mahdi. He knows this can’t be true, because he believes his people are fed-up— it should have happened by now if one of them was truly possessed with that capability.

“Sietch Tabr is too worldly now. I worry that if we lose our faith, we cannot usher in Lisan al Gaib as he should be, and our promise to freedom.” Ramallo fixes her cold, foggy pupils on Stilgar, the cloudy whites making the typical Fremen-blue appear more teal. He shivers at the idea. 

“I want you, as Naib, our political leader, to take one of the Sayyadina as your wife. One of the lower priestesses.” 

Stilgar nearly protests instantly, feeling embarrassed to even think of desecrating a Sayyadina like this, but the old Reverend Mother knows what he thinks of this. 

“It would be a marriage between our religion and our people, a symbolic union. I believe our spirituality will be renewed.” Ramallo taps his hand. “I’m an old woman now. I cannot make as much as a difference as my younger sisters— and you and I both know it is written that we must keep bearing children.” 

Stilgar swallows. He only vaguely knows of the Bene Gesserit, but he can guess Ramallo was deeply inspired by their way, marrying into families, keeping a physical bloodline going. The only thing that troubles him, is that he’s unsure of what this has to do with having children with a Sayyadina in particular. 

“If you have children, especially with a Sayyadina, they are more likely to be faithful. Perhaps we cannot convert the others,” Ramallo grits her teeth. “But I believe we can start anew.”

/

Stilgar knows he cannot force himself on any of the Sayyadina. It’s bad enough that they cannot say no to the Reverend Mother’s command, especially with that shocking, unnerving Voice she uses, so he would much rather let one of them pick him. Yes, that’s what he’ll do— walk into the temple, and let them approach him.

He just hopes he’s not too old, too ugly, too entwined with his role as Naib. He wonders if that’s why women haven’t necessarily been interested in him— what with his constant vigilance to keep Sietch Tabr safe and with a good allocation of resources, which makes him rather unapproachable, not as dashing as a typical Feydakin.

He knows how Lady Jessica looked at him with reproach when he offered himself to her, to protect her and her son, Paul. Yes, even the name Paul suggests something more to him— he still thinks he could be Lisan al Gaib. But either way, Lady Jessica did not want to be connected to him like that— so Stilgar feels that he must admire how marriage exists in that intrinsic bond between two people, from afar.

On the other hand, he feels the slightest tinge of hope when he remembers that a Sayyadina would surely be impressed with his devotion. In fact, Stilgar feels a slight grin on his face, as he climbs down from his cliff, thinking of a veiled Fremen priestess, eyes of Ibad even bluer than his own, marking her commitment to the faith. Holy, but his, to see like no one else would, and to be devoutly loyal to.

Almost like a personal representation, an extension of their faith together. And suddenly Stilgar feels understanding to what the Reverend Mother said, as he walks through the night, back to his quarters, that there would be power in this.

/

You’re chewing on your bottom lip, knowing that it’s a needless thing to do— a waste of water, now, that a drop of blood has been drawn from where you have accidentally split your lip— and you can’t help yourself.

Reverend Mother Ramallo grasped you and your sisters’ hands during prayer this morning, and told you that Stilgar would choose one of you as his wife.

It’s a bit surprising. As a Sayyadina directly under a Reverend Mother, you simply expected to be on your own, until she died and one of you would have to take her place. Other Sayyadina marry, yes— but you’ve always studied under Ramallo and assumed that you would not have to.

You know the Bene Gesserit— as far away as they are to you— form alliances like this with men, and it’s an honourable thing, typically, to produce a child from a union and continue on a legacy of people. It’s with that line of thinking that you asked Ramallo if this is what you were meant to follow.

“Sahar.” Ramallo used your Sietch name, the one that is only known among your sisters for the most part, as most Sayyadina consider their Sietch name to be their sacred name. “Smarter than I sometimes give you credit for. Yes, like our fellow priestesses, we too can create children for the sacred purpose of replacement.”

You smiled, but Ramallo had a slightly weary look in her eyes.

“I don’t want you girls to forget the sacred duty. Continue the faith. Do not let others forget our long wait for the Lisan al Gaib. Pass this onto your children, if you have them.”

You nodded, and whispered a silent prayer that hopefully soon he would be found, and that in itself would be enough to push people.

/   

So now you wait. You know Stilgar— you’ve conversed with him before, in lunch circles, at the deathstill. He was kind enough— he always bowed when he greeted you, and you liked that, liked that he acknowledged your importance in your role here, however small it may be to you. And he always had a careful, leaning inwards glance, where he would be intently listening to whatever you had to say, even if you simply wished him well and hoped that the Maker would bless him and his passage.

It also significantly helped that he was so handsome to look at, too. You’ve heard women murmur about their surprise on his lack of a wife, and how they’d be grateful to take him, if they got the chance. You don’t disagree– you know you’ve spent many a moment glancing too much at him.

But Stilgar seems intensely busy, and you do not be the one to pull him away from his duties. You have had the privilege of being unaware of fighting, of battles and duels, and now to be potentially married to him, it feels like you’ll simply not fit into his life.

And, on the other hand, as you glumly sit on your bedding, rolling a pebble on the stone floor, you think about how you’ve had little-to-no experience with men.

It’s not that it wasn’t allowed, you’ve always been preoccupied with your faith. With the Reverend Mother.

You know how Fremen men, especially warrior men like Stilgar would be. They have appetites— your fellow Sayyadina sister Nezua tells you about all her crazy endeavours, while you listen somewhat enviously. There’s a reason why Fremen men take so many wives.

Your stomach lurches a little at that. Although multiple wives are common, to continue to reproduce as efficiently as possible, you dislike the notion for some reason— but you feel selfish and wonder if it is because, as a priestess, you’ve had special treatment until now.

Nezua walks into your quarters, and taps your shoulder. 

“Yes?”

“He’s outside.” She takes your hand. “Don’t worry, Sahar. I am sure he will not pick one of us— he will probably pick Ranira. She barely wants to be Sayyadina.”

“But isn’t that against the point?” You squeeze your hands together. “For a union between faith and people—” 

“C’mon, Sahar. Don’t tell me you really believe that.” She rolls her eyes. “Whoever ends up being Stilgar’s wife will probably be in his house most of the time, ‘praying’, but really just dutifully waiting for him.” 

“I suppose…” You don’t want to tell Nezua that she’s wrong. That Stilgar is more devout than she thinks, that he’s not a cheat looking for a free wife to use while pretending to care about the faith. 

Stilgar has always come to the temple to pray, even when it is not necessary for a man of his standing to do so— as he often speaks of needing to continue his worship towards the Maker, the One God, and Ramallo is always pleased to let him in. She wouldn’t do that if he had some sort of ulterior motive, as other less honourable men have in the past.

It’s with a jolt that you realize you already care for him on some level. At the very least, you think highly of him.

Nezua pulls you up off your bedding, and you adjust your veil before going off into the main prayer hall with her.

Upon seeing the arrival of all six Sayyadina sisters— the current number of high priestesses directly under Ramallo— Stilgar pushes himself into a deep, reverent bow, and as he arises again, his gaze seems to linger on you before coming across your sisters.

You feel both excited to potentially be picked, and terrified to leave the temple where you have lived your whole life.

/

Stilgar can’t help but have his eyes drawn towards to you. Not just because you’re beautiful— you are, though, with the eyes of Ibad, deep blue pupils, a wise, judicial expression upon your face— and he wonders why.

Not out of disrespect, but Stilgar often sees the Sayyadina as being sort of withdrawn, within themselves, perhaps solemn in the religious vows they have taken. Even now, your sisters don’t meet his glance as often as you do.

Stilgar thinks you may be defiant. Maybe a troublemaker of sorts. His heart has a sudden thrill at the idea, but his mind knows this isn’t what’s necessary for this arrangement.

“Hello, sisters.” He smiles in a firm, thin line, meant to be placating to those around him. “I believe you know why I’m here. I hope this will not be an uncomfortable process for us all.”

He takes another look at you. No, you’re simply… you’re taking him in. And Stilgar decides that’s overall better than being defiant. Closer to the values of a leader, not even in just a spiritual way as the Reverend Mother had suggested to him. 

You’re gauging his reactions, trying to read if he’s more of a rascal than he lets on— but he meets your previous idea of him, a reverent, kind man trying not to do harm, and your mouth settles into a assured, small smile.

Stilgar feels comforted, pleased even by your expression, and he knows he’s going to pick you.

”Sayyadina—” He points to you so there’s no confusion, and your sisters appear as neutral as they can, while you read micro-expressions of either relief or disappointment. “I would like to speak to you on this matter.”

You shuffle in silence as you leave with him to a different, quieter corridor, and as you turn and fix your veil, Nezua flashes a grin at you.

So your feelings were that obvious, you think.

/

Stilgar is a great deal taller than you. You have to peer upwards to really look at him, and you think he likes that— there’s a slight twinge in his eyes that makes you feel easily drawn to him.

“Why me, Naib?” You ask, and Stilgar stares at you for a moment longer, before tearing his eyes away to stare at the architecture of the temple. 

“You have a knowing look in your eyes, Sayyadina.” He responds in turn to your use of Naib— a term denoting him as Leader of the Sietch. You use it so not to be overly familiar with him, but you understand you both respect each other.

“So you picked the most shrewd of us, is that it?” You wrinkle your nose in a slight laugh, but then actually grin as Stilgar laughs.

“One could call it shrewdness. I simply see that you are not afraid, you look for what you know you must find. Only great leaders make the approach.” He explains this so clearly, you were not even entirely aware that you were doing such a thing. 

“It only makes sense to do so, Naib. I could not just stand there and allow you to do all the decision making.” You admit with tact, so not to drive him away.

He nods. “That is why you will be a great one.”

Stilgar seems comfortable with you already, and yet his expression takes a pained look for a moment. 

“It's for that reason I do not want to force you into this… uh, arrangement.” He admits, and you are taken aback for just a moment, just a slight gasp.

“What makes you think I don’t want to be your wife?” You speak too soon, maybe too boldly but Stilgar likes that. Despite not even being betrothed yet, you are so forward with him, so ready to be claimed by him.

And he's just as willing a participant to be claimed by you, so he smiles, watching you turn a little flustered, but you let your feelings for him stay apparent for a moment.

It's not like there's room for privacy in a marriage, you think.

An arranged marriage, you admonish yourself. He’s here only in the most professional of terms. Don’t complicate this with your idiotic feelings, you still have a job to do.

“I just meant that– it would be an honour to be associated with you, Naib.” You keep your head tilted downwards, trying your best to be the reverent Sayyadina you’re known as.

“Of course.” He swallows, unsure if you’ve suddenly become shy, or that you’ve decided to be more cunning– something he admires anyways. He thinks not many women would actually be attracted to him, what of the mug he calls a face, and so he decides to just be glad that you’re willing to be with him.

“Okay, Sayyadina. If you’ll have me as your husband, then,” He grasps your hands in both of his, and he has the kindest look in his eyes, and you look back up at him, feelings simmering on the inside as you maintain a peaceful facade. “We will have our engagement arranged soon.”

Then, ever so gently, he pushes back a part of your veil, wanting to see your face better.

/

You visit him more often after that. Usually in the hall, where there are other people, and you do this so people don’t think you’re too in love with him already– visiting him secretly would only prove that, suggest some sort of affair of a human connotation.

By being around the others, people feel that things are coming into place– religion and leaders are creating a strong, united front that will lead the Fremen to peace. More believers for the Lisan Al Gaib. And you are glad to already be pushing people along the path that Ramallo set out for you.

Stilgar has a stronger look at you, now. Not just the polite glances of before. With every conversation, he takes you in, drawing more and more conclusions. And with every moment, he learns more about you, and he likes what he learns, too.

He sees that you like your food spicy, as does he. And you especially enjoy tabara– the soft sweet cake made of tabaroot, honey, and spice, rich and sweet in flavour, adorned with fruit. It’s a rarity in Arrakis, since a few of the fruit come from offworld traders– so he gives you his portion and you two argue over this, before Stilgar eventually puts his foot down as Naib.

“You should accept. Extra portions go towards those who need it, not me.” Stilgar says, ever the humble one as you’ve come to know him.

“Except this isn’t an extra portion, is it? Sayyadina aren’t supposed to indulge so much, leaders like you may deserve it as you do such hard work.” You taunt him, knowing that you’re both so similar– you could argue forever with Stilgar because you’re equally as willing to sacrifice things for each other.

Great leaders, indeed.

“Sayyadina, don’t make me remind you how important your creed is.” He tuts, and you find yourself simmering with attraction to him– you are beginning to look forward to these conversations more and more everyday. “Your work is just as important– don’t do a disservice to your life just for me, okay?”

The people around you shift in their spots on the floor, to listen more closely, and you recognize that although you and Stilgar grow closer– the intended effect is taking place. People are supportive either way.

Maybe you don’t have to be distant, overly religious, to win support. Maybe, like what Ramallo said, they need to see how spirituality can touch people, and how you’re just a person as well.

He places the piece of cake in your bowl again. “Accept it as a gift, Sayyadina.”

You smile up at him, squeeze his hand without thinking. “Okay, Naib. Thank you.”

/

Stilgar cannot stop thinking of you, even when he is training Usul to fight in the Fremen way.

He remembers your last meeting, a few weeks after your initial one– and then how you said in two days time, after your faithful prayer that the Shai-Hulud would allow your union to be peaceful, you could begin the engagement ceremony. And Stilgar focused on how serious you were– how holy this approach was, how you seemed to glow from within, with some otherworldly energy, and even now he could tell he was enamoured with you. With that strong gaze, eyebrows tensed and purposeful in their thought.

Usul– Paul, at this moment, with his lack of focus– cannot stop staring at Chani while she practices sparring with her friend.

“Usul. Usul.” Stilgar shakes his shoulder, and Paul finally tears his gaze away. “You’re too distracted, my friend.”

“I’m sorry, Stilgar.” Ever the charming, young lad, Paul smiles placatingly towards Stilgar, and even he is too struck by his charisma to avoid it. “I’m here. I’m ready.”

“Please, tell me what bothers you.” Stilgar knows, already, as Paul stares down at his hands, that the boy has eyes for his overly tenacious niece. “Is it a matter of the heart?”

“Yes.” Paul exhales. “It’s not important right now. How did you know?”

Stilgar smiles reproachfully. “I… I suppose I should tell you honestly, before the others get to know.”

It strikes Paul that the Fremen trust him so readily– even Chani, with her misgivings about the prophecy, seems to be swayed towards him, and he does not know if he enjoys the attention, the privilege this grants him. Again, he is struck with that terrible purpose– that he will use these people for his own benefit.

Stilgar interrupts his line of thought. “Soon, I am to be married to one of the priestesses.”

Paul grins. “Ah, Stilgar, you rogue. You’re distracted, too.”

“Yes.” Stilgar admits, and he thinks of you with your deep blue eyes, your careful-yet-understanding glance, and he longs to see you again. To get to know you better. Yes, Stilgar may not truly know you, but he feels he has been on your side this whole time. Every glance at the temple, every cursory conversation at the deathstill, it has all been building up to something– perhaps not what he had imagined it to be, but he would never consider himself unlucky for this, or that Ramallo could ever be wrong about her plans.

As Naib, though, he still has his duties, and he tuts and tells Paul to get back on it. And Paul, strong young man wanting to prove himself, uses his Bene Gesserit training to imbue a level of focus that no woman could possibly break.

/

The engagement ceremony day is finally here.

You're excited, yet nervous to be known as Stilgar's wife. It feels more real with every approaching moment– it’s not just a silly, girlish fantasy, it’s something that everyone will see and know as a tangible union.

You haven't got any time to see him– Stilgar has been away with other Feydakin, no doubt unleashing hell on Harkonnen troops– and so you wait for his return.

The first of many waiting periods, you know that. You always knew this was going to be more of a political marriage– more in meaning for Sietch Tabr than really having to be around each other.

But you miss him, anyways. You like him, and despite your attempts to focus on praying to the Maker that he will be okay, you search for him on the sandy horizon every minute of this auspicious morning, the sun blearing into your eyes.

“You know he hasn’t come this far without his own talent.” Nezua reminds you, as she watches you peer up, blinking in the sunlight. “He’s not Naib for no reason, Sahar.”

All priestesses– both low and high– and other religious Fremen crowd around the outskirts of Sietch Tabr, hidden under cliffs in order to stay in the shade. Yet you reach outwards to look at the sun, risking your sweat even as you know you’re supposed to reserve it.

Lady Jessica, part of the sacred mother-and-son duo from the outer world, watches you with a gaze you cannot place. You know it is not simple curiosity– there is something new and malicious in her stare that has only heightened after Stilgar had asked to be betrothed to you.

A sudden gust of wind blows sand around you two, and Nezua tightens her veil, firmly jutting her jaw in a way that tells you she must be right, that you worry about nothing. 

Ten minutes later, after praying and hoping, Stilgar returns over the sunrise, victorious in battle, and you feel he looks exhausted– yet his face breaks into a smile when he sees you.

He is greeted by many Fremen, fellow family members, but Stilgar pushes them aside, making his way directly towards you.

And you let yourself be pulled upwards by him, as he grasps your hands.

There’s something sweet and endearing here– almost innocent in how he looks at you, as if he’s been waiting to see you again just as long as you have. But you quickly remind yourself that this moment is not just yours– it would be considered somewhat heartless by other Fremen if Stilgar did not appear to like you, and by extension, the whole marriage’s point would fail.

“Sayyadina–” He holds up the Water Rings, the metallic counters representing the volume of water a Fremen could release into the deathstill. Here, they mean that you will be tied to Stilgar, as you are now betrothed to him. “I ask you to be married to me, by nightfall.”

“So soon?” You ask, wondering why he would want to do it so early.

“It cannot wait much longer. Reverend Mother Ramallo is not well.” He tells you, and your heart sinks, wondering why your dear reverend mother has not told you about this.

You’ve seen the signs– she struggles with fine motor skills and often her cataracts make it difficult to see anything– but you are still surprised.

“Okay.” You swallow, and then smile up at him, and he squeezes your cheek in a fond gesture that makes you feel heat rise there.   

“We will be wed tonight.” He calls out in Chakobsa, and the Fremen around you rally with glee, and you feel that whatever this is, even if Ramallo does not live to watch it play out– it’s working.

/

The unmarried women of the tribe fix your hair with the rings Stilgar presented to you, and you feel ever the part of the blushing bride. You know it’s not wrong to genuinely have feelings in this arrangement– you just hope Stilgar feels the same way.

Chani grins at you. You know her well– you’re around the same age, you’ve grown up somewhat together– and you wonder if she feels odd about her uncle marrying you.

“No, if it means I can call you Auntie, I’m happy.” She jokes, and you shove her as she laughs.

Chani rarely laughs like this as of late. She’s always so hard on herself– she thinks she has to be because of how indoctrinated so many Fremen are to the faith. And despite your life as a Sayyadina, Chani has never let your conflicting beliefs stop her love for you.

You only wish she’d be more careful as a warrior. As a freedom fighter, Chani sometimes lacks restraint– so you’re grateful to see her happy.

“Well, maybe some day you’ll be married, too.” You squeeze her hand. “To a great warrior.”

“I don’t know, Biet.” Chani calls you your Fremen name, not your Sietch one, which will be used tonight at the wedding. “Let us focus on you for now.”

“I just… I don’t know if he feels the way I do.” You suddenly admit, and the fear that you’re still going to be lonely crops up. 

Chani shakes her head, that hard, tough scowl on her face back again. “If there’s one thing I know about my uncle, it’s that he’s not an idiot.” 

She presses her cheek to yours. “Don’t you understand how important you are, Biet? How special you are, not just to me and everyone here, but to him especially. Stilgar has not stopped speaking of you for the last couple of weeks.”

You smile softly at that, thinking of how ardently Stilgar looks at you now, how you’ve gotten to know each other over the last few weeks of basic conversation. More close than ever, and yet just far enough that you keep wondering. Is it admiration, gratitude that you’re willing to serve a greater purpose, or something more? You know it’s selfish, but you want him to like you. To love you. 

“Everybody knows, even Muad’Dib.”

At the mention of Muad’Dib, you can’t ignore the slight tension in your spine. Both you and Stilgar have discussed your belief in his abilities, his potential to be the one– but you know that Chani does not share that.

Still, you hear a slight shift in Chani’s tone as she says his name, and you give her a glance.

“You like him, I think.” You tease, and she tells you to shut up in Chakobsa.

You wonder if Muad’Dib was the one who shared this information to his mother, which would make her dislike of you understandable. You get the sense she’s power-hungry, terrifying– she would’ve been a greater candidate for this marriage, an otherworldly mother that fits the prophecy, representing not just the union of politics and religion, but with the power of the Bene Gesserit– and you find that you resist her, anyways. Resist the idea that everything must be for this one purpose.

You want to keep Stilgar to yourself, and it almost frightens you that you might be going against something that you’ve been taught to believe from a young age.

You’re no Chani.

/

The dark of the night spreads across Arrakis.

Stilgar begins the trek up the dune, where you wait, bathed in the moonlight– you’re wearing a different outfit, a dress with intricate beading marking your place as a bride, and instead of a veil, you are wearing a much thinner, transparent shawl that allows Stilgar to make out your silhouette. Your hair is interwoven with his Water Rings.

Stilgar has always known you are beautiful, but especially now of all times, with your blue eyes reflecting him in the silver moonlight as he meets you at the top of the hill– and it’s not a distraction, because he’s meant to be here with you.

He likes you a lot– there’s a taut feeling in his throat, as he realizes he’s watched countless friends and family members get married, but never thought of himself as one of them– and in the past, Stilgar had always felt there was something wrong with him for not marrying sooner. But now, he’s so thankful he waited, because it’s you. His holy, veiled priestess.

You share his faith, after all– but over the last few weeks he’s seen that you share his judgement, too. He only hopes that his feelings will be returned some day and that he won’t scare you off– Stilgar knows he can sometimes be too much.

Reverend Mother Ramallo approaches you two from the other side of the dune. She speaks in Ancient Chakobsa– old marriage passages from the faith, hymns that are sacred in their meaning– and the unmarried women below, begin their chanting and agreement with the hymns. They dance.

Then, Ramallo asks Stilgar in Chakobsa, if he is willing to take care of you, to entirely claim you in every way as the Fremen faith dictates– to not leave you behind. You know she cares for you so deeply, as she’s watched you grow up from a young girl, and you hear a slight twitch in her voice, giving her away as someone who will miss you.

Stilgar responds without hesitation that yes, he will always be there for you. And you believe him. You don’t hear a hint of irony or lying in his tone.

Maybe this isn’t just a marriage of political nature.

Ramallo yells in Chakobsa, using the Voice: “It is finished!”

/

Celebrations are loud, jovial, necessary after the Fremen endured hardship from the Harkonnen. People are dancing, eating, congratulating you.

You’re happy to receive their blessings, and give them back if they wish to hear it from you. You’re still a Sayyadina, and today of all days, you bring especially good luck to them.

Paul Atreides walks forward after Nezua dips– she’s kissed you on your cheek and solemnly stated she’ll miss you at the temple bedrooms– and you’re intrigued, as you’ve never spoken to him before.

“Muad’dib!” Stilgar is next to you, and he shakes his hands, clapping his shoulder, and Paul hugs him.

“Stilgar, Biet–” Paul’s eyes cross towards you, and you don’t sense the same plotting look his mother has. “Congratulations. It’s so interesting to witness a Fremen marriage. I feel like I’ve learned so much just watching. I did not know Sayyadina could use the Voice, as well. Impressive.”

You think he’s rather compassionate, but there’s no telling if it’s an act. You ignore that– you’re meant to be happy now.

“Thank you.” You gently squeeze his hand. “I don’t use it often– I believe it should necessitate a purpose.”

“As do I.” Paul agrees, and you are blown away by how casually he reveals that he can use it. Another sign, perhaps, that he is who you and Stilgar think he is.

“In coming times, maybe you too will marry in our way.” You make as an offhand comment, so not to overtly reveal your surprise.

Paul is mildly surprised by this, but he doesn’t look displeased with that. “Maybe. I think many women here are quite beautiful, they could probably pick a noble Feydakin than someone like me.”

“In time, Muad’dib, you may be a Feydakin too. You have the strength to be one.” Stilgar corrects him, and you like that your husband is so forthcoming, a true mentor that supports everyone.

“Besides, you’ll need to be one if you want to impress Chani.” You input, and Stilgar looks a little taken aback by this development, while Paul looks more interested.

“Really? You think Chani and I…” Paul swallows down whatever he’s going to say, looking suddenly a bit darker and worried. “I would be lucky if she considered me.”

Paul bids you two goodbye, while Stilgar laughs. “A humble one, isn’t he?”

“Better that than overly boastful.” You hum. “Either way, I hope he is not perpetuating a false image.”

Stilgar agrees. 

As the party dies down, he takes your hand, and together, you walk back to Stilgar’s quarters.

/

He’s rather quiet as he sits on his bedding, cracking his knuckles.

Stilgar is not afraid of you, exactly– he’s afraid of what your relationship should or should not be. He does not know the boundaries in which you two operate, and he’s afraid once he opens that conversation up, of your potential rejection. 

Other men would tell him that as your wife, there should be no confusion– that he should be able to bridge the gap, and you would accept it, no questions asked.

But Stilgar had not come this far by simply guessing at things. He knows as Naib, the general context you two have– and he needs to know if you feel the same way, if you don’t just want this marriage to be symbolic in nature.

“Sayyadina,” He calls you, and you sit next to him on his bedding, staying a short distance away, just for respect.

You laugh at that internally. You’re his wife, and you still call on some level of respect. Maybe because you’re afraid of acting on these feelings you have– a hunger for closeness– and you would rather use the excuse of respect instead of pushing him towards you.

Stilgar says Sayyadina with fondness in his tone, though. A formal, spiritual term has never sounded more husky, more inappropriately close than ever– you let yourself hope.

“I’ll ask you this once, and make your answer clear, so I do not bother you otherwise.” Stilgar pauses, wanting to be sensitive about this subject. He doesn’t know exactly what you’re comfortable with. “I want to know if you want to be more than wife in name, or if your heart is drawn to being within your faith.”

“Who says I can’t be both, Stilgar?” You bite your lip, and Stilgar’s face stiffens. “There’s nothing in our faith that says a priestess can’t have both.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He pauses, grappling with what to say.

“I don’t want to be a burden to you.” He says, and you laugh, for real this time, a louder laugh than he’s heard before, and he grins, liking the twinkling sound of it, but then frowns. “I’m being serious. You should not have to lie with me just for everyone else’s benefit. The marriage has brought people to greater spirits, already.”

“What if it’s for my benefit?” You speak in a hushed tone, but Stilgar listens to every word, inching closer to you. “What if I feel more spiritual when I’m next to you? I feel the Maker’s way flow through me whenever we speak, I feel like I can understand and interpret so much more because I know we are supposed to be with each other, not just metaphorically, but in all ways.”

Stilgar is taken aback by your boldness, and so are you to some degree, but you continue. “I’ve been ignoring this the last few weeks, but I think that’s what love is. What is faith without love? I think I love you, because you make me understand what I’ve been missing…” You smile up at him. “You’re my greater context, Stilgar.”

Ah, He thinks. This woman is too sweet to me. She understands.

“Sayyadina…” He sighs, a deep shuddering sigh revealing so much emotion; relief, really. You’ve never seen Stilgar like this, but it gives you a sense of how much he represses. “You feel like the missing piece I’ve been waiting for. You… you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for a woman that understands me.”

“I never thought I could have the chance to love anyone,” He admits with some reservation. “My appearance tends to ward women away.”

“But you’re beautiful.” You whisper, smiling up at him, and Stilgar feels your hands trace around his face, and he closes his eyes, listening to the sweetness of your voice. “You’re only intimidating because of who you are, Stilgar, but I promise, you’re beautiful. I’m not the only woman who thinks that.”

Before he can respond in turn, that you’re more beautiful than him, the stubbornness that you two share– you let that unspoken urge inside you, the one you’ve never acted on before, overtake you. And you pull his face downwards in a searing kiss, one where he can still taste the spice on your lips after what you ingested at your wedding dinner.

He honestly has not touched a woman in years– not out of some purposeful celibacy, but more because he has been so focused on maintaining Sietch Tabr. And whatever memories he has of that time, right now is easily trumping them.

You part your lips as Stilgar does, kissing him with abandon, again and again as your lips move with his, and he squeezes your waist before pulling you onto his lap.

He groans. There’s a hard bulge in his pants that you’re sitting squarely upon, you know what that is– you’re not entirely uncultured about this.

You experimentally roll your hips over his crotch, finding a sudden pleasure in your lower half as you do so, and he stutters, suddenly, pulling your face away from his, breaking the kiss.

“Sayyadina– wait, slow down.” He holds your wrists in his hands firmly, the heat of the moment causing both of you to sweat. The night air seeps through Stilgar’s window– hot and humid.

You’ve never wanted to be closer to him.

“I’m a little inexperienced. I don’t want to hurt you.” He explains, and you scoff.

“So am I.” You tell him. “Actually, I’ve never…”

“Oh.” Stilgar takes on a very judicial look, one that you’re determined to stop before he rejects you for the “greater good” or something like that. “I would’ve never guessed that. You gave me the impression of expertise.”

“Then let me gain it.” You proclaim, and you cut him off before he says what you know he will. “You’re not forcing me into anything. I want to do this, just like I wanted to marry you.”

He scoffs, now, but Stilgar likes the sound of that and he kisses you again, pulling your shawl off, feeling you wrap around his torso with your legs– he feels you moan and shudder when he squeezes your thighs. He loves this, and when he starts removing your dress– you don’t stop him.

He pulls it down and under you, and you’re bare underneath. Stilgar examines your breasts with admiration– they’re the perfect size, they fit you well– and he immediately takes to one of your nipples with his teeth, causing you to cry out.

As he continues these bites over your chest, squeezing your breasts and your behind, suckling on your neck, feeding off of your sweat, you feel yourself slicken, wetness catching on Stilgar’s pants– so much quicker than you’re used to, when you used to touch yourself in your room at the temple. A waste of water, maybe, but it was worth the relief occasionally.

Stilgar notices, and he wordlessly lays you across his bed, spreading your legs open, looking down at your pussy.

You’re not completely sure what he’s doing, and you feel slightly vulnerable like this– entirely on display for him.

“Let me drink from you, Sayyadina. I would be honoured by this blessing– I thirst, and it would not be a waste.” He says in hushed tones, as he kneels in front of you, and you feel yourself slicken more if that’s possible. The sacred overtones of worship are not lost on you, practically becoming a kink for you as he speaks.

You nod, and he grasps your thighs tightly, practically pushing down on them so you’ll stay with open legs for him– he strokes them a few times, and then dives in with his tongue, lapping and licking slowly upwards to your clitoris, then quickly a few times to taste you faster, which causes you to seize as feelings of warmth and white-hot sensitivity overtake you, and with your fluids, and his saliva, you’re quickly reaching the point of finishing. His beard tickles, and you squirm a little, and start writhing and sweating, moans ebbing out of your throat, but that only makes Stilgar pull you in closer, tighter, pushing his tongue closer, almost inside, refusing your escape.

You don’t want that, anyways. And you finish in his mouth with a flourish as Stilgar laps up what you’ve given him– a drink from a Sayyadina.

You think he’s done, but you lean back with another sigh– a near scream, really– as Stilgar begins to lick at your clitoris, suckling on it, until you’re wet and aching again– and then he uses his fingers to spread your pussy open, and begins to fuck you with his tongue. It’s amazing, wet and writhing and and filthy– it feels nothing like your own fingers and entirely more adept at getting you to another orgasm. The speed at which his tongue languishes inside you should be considered unholy, all things considered– but you feel high, you feel like you’re closer to the Maker than ever– and he suckles at you, his lips closing around your entrance as you moan again and orgasm directly into his mouth.

Stilgar groans. He’s in love with your taste– he thinks he might wake you up every morning like this, if you’ll let him. He’s also painfully hard now– his cock strains against his pants, and he quickly starts undressing.  

“Sorry. I needed a second taste.” Stilgar apologizes, standing up, but he’s not sheepish about anything as he continues to rub you, to stroke your pussy to keep you wet. Up, down, up, down, Stilgar could get addicted to this sensation around his fingers– you’re so warm, soft, wet– he needs to be in you.

You’re beginning to feel overstimulated– you’re covered in sweat, and in between your thighs you’re soaked, practically dripping all over Stilgar’s hand as he continues to work you– and you twitch as you sit up, Stilgar’s fingers prodding inside you.

His cock bobs upwards, shiny with pre-cum, and the tip, hard and redder, while the rest is a flattering tan brown. Although this is your first time viewing the male genitalia, you’re drawn to it. You like how he looks partially naked– vulnerable like you, but warmer, soft and hard in different places– and you reach to take his shirt off, letting his full self be unsheathed.

And you like this– you feel an animalistic draw to his body, his chest hair, the broad muscles under them, and he moans loudly when your finger prods at the tip of his cock. Stilgar lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, and spreads your ass, his cock nudging inside your pussy slowly, groaning as it does, gritting his teeth as every centimetre feels like another added pleasure of wetness, the bounds of which he does not know, but he is excited to be familiar with and do this again and again. 

You sink around him easily– you moan against his neck as you do– and Stilgar bottoms out, feeling you grip and tighten around him.  

After what feels like an eternity– both of you drunk on just being intertwined in such a way– he lifts you up again, thrusting outwards, and then back in, pushing you down on his cock, slamming into you. Stilgar’s warrior strength comes into play here– he fucks you relentlessly, and grips you so tightly you think you might be melting onto him. He begins to pound into you, your ass and thighs jiggling with the force of it all, and a severely perverted squelching and slapping sound builds up over time, over and over, his thighs and balls slapping against your thighs and ass, the sound of which you are sure is extremely loud.

You don’t care. You moan loudly, almost yelling as Stilgar’s cock twitches and catches inside you in a place so deep, you’ve never touched it yourself. 

You shake and twitch, barely holding onto him as you do, feeling an immense pressure build inside you, almost painfully, but with pleasure. Stilgar claims your mouth as he thrusts, kissing you, slipping his tongue inside as he drinks from you there– and he loves feeling you moan against his mouth as he does so.

He presses you against him tightly, rutting upwards, and then together he tips the both of you onto his bed again, him on top of you, this time using his fingers to play with your clitoris as you clench around his thrusting. You cum again, this time your fluids adding to Stilgar’s pleasure, and you moan as Stilgar’s hands tighten around your waist. The slap of his skin against yours is laden with sweat and your cum, but Stilgar is insatiable, and he thrusts harder.

You feel him inhale, moan, bite at your neck, and you feel his cock twitch again as he cums inside you, pulling out in a hazy stream, and you writhe against him, feeling the heat of the moment conjoining with the cooler air of the night.

He sighs, satisfied with what has happened, lying down next to you. “May Shai-Hulud allow us to do this again.”

/

Stilgar has to leave again, the next morning, as more Fremen are involved in fighting Harkonnen harvesters, and he wants to oversee this.

“I’m sorry, Sayyadina…” He swallows. He doesn’t want to leave you behind– if he could take you along on his back, he would. 

“Sahar.” You tell him.

“What was that?” He asks, and you wrap your arms around him and his stillsuit, dressed in your traditional Sayyadina dressings again.

“Sahar is my Sietch name. My sacred name, only for my sisters to know.” You explain, although you’re sure Stilgar knows this. He only knows your Fremen name, after all. “Since we’re married– I thought you should know my true name.”

“Sahar is a wonderful name… meaning morning.” Stilgar looks out the window with a slight smile. “But you outdo any of Arrakis’ sunrises, my dear.”

You laugh at that, as Stilgar knew you would. 

“You will still be Sayyadina to me, no matter what name you have.” He says, and there’s a warm feeling in your heart when you hear this, that he has a special name for you. You take his hands, and press your palm to his forehead.

“Oh Shai-Hulud… keep Stilgar safe from unwarranted danger today.” You whisper in Chakobsa, closing your eyes, and Stilgar closes his eyes too. “Do not risk his life.”

Your harsh, suddenly grating tone from using the Voice has Stilgar opening his eyes again. He has never heard you use it before.

“Thank you.” He pulls you up for a soft, parting kiss– and then after memories of last night echo inside his mind– he gives you a firmer, lingering kiss, laden with love for you.

/

Stilgar finds that despite his obvious devotion in his commitment to you– the women are more interested in him than ever.

And if he was a lesser man, perhaps he would act on this. But Stilgar has not forgotten the plan, and he certainly hasn’t forgotten you, not so soon. He knows you two are two sides of the same coin– meant to be.

This was not meant to be an outcome. He sees Feydakin women smiling at him, maybe a little too much– or maybe he has not noticed until now.

You said he was beautiful, and he had thought maybe that was just according to you. But seeing how Lady Jessica greets him, not impolitely but just with more… vulnerability, especially after her duke was killed, he thinks maybe you’re right. Maybe he has something.

Jessica stares at the deathstill, trembling over what Stilgar has told her. She must drink the Water of Life, she must take the place of a Reverend Mother– and she does not want this. She wants nothing more than to be comforted at this moment, because of what a tribulation this new order shall be on her.

Or at least, that’s the image she’s conveying, she hopes, and she believes she has Stilgar wrapped around her finger, her coying, Bene Gesserit way meant to coax people closer to her, and by extension, her wishes.

And Jessica can tell she’s done it right when Stilgar leans over, wipes away her tear, and licks it. Perhaps she can secure more support through playing the part of a sad widow.

/

It’s Nezua who saw what happened.

She interrupts your prayer, your first prayer after returning to the temple, sanctimonious as it is.

“Sahar, please don’t be upset. Just hear me out.” She pulls you into the main hall, where your sisters and Ramallo are reading ancient texts.

“What is it? What’s happened?” You look around wildly. 

Nezua’s deep blue eyes blink, as she wonders what to tell you, how to say it gracefully.

“I saw him. Naib. Standing close to that woman, to Lady Jessica– she cried about becoming a Reverend Mother– he stroked her face, licking a tear away.” Nezua admits, and you instantly blink back sudden tears.

“But he–”

“Men can be rascals, Sahar.” Nezua reprimands you, and you swallow, knowing you don’t know as much as her.

You do know about Jessica, though.

“She has been eyeing him for a while… I’ve watched it happen. She’s got her Bene Gesserit tactics, we know that. She wants to be a Mother, no matter what farce she applies in this moment to gain approval.” You shake your head. “He wouldn’t do that for no reason– she’s very convincing. And Stilgar supports everyone, why would he doubt her?”

Nezua calms down a bit.

“But if he wanted to marry her?” Ramallo suddenly chimes in, and you and your sisters watch as she speaks, suddenly convinced of something. “Would it not be the ultimate culmination of what we seek? The mother of the Lisan Al Gaib, integrated into our society… nothing could compare to how many Fremen this would convert. How many people would choose our way.”

“Great Mother, you picked me for that purpose.” You speak up, almost immediately, without fear. You don’t care if you’re speaking out of turn– you do not want to share Stilgar, lose him to some other woman– and here it seems everyone else is okay with it.

“Yes, and you’ve done well, but you of all people should want us to do better.” She remarks, not without a bit of bite in her tone. You hate that it has to be this way, that you stand in the way of something you used to wholeheartedly believe.

Just this once, you want to be selfish. You have faith that Paul will be Lisan Al Gaib, anyways, so why can’t it just be you and Stilgar?

“Once Jessica drinks the Water of Life, she will be a powerful Reverend Mother– all of Arrakis may be swayed by her.” Ramallo peers at your expression. “Don’t tell me you feel something as foolish as love, Sahar.”

“And if I do?” You state, blatantly.

“Then you must be loving enough to see that this would improve Stilgar’s life by far. Men may take multiple wives, you know that.” Ramallo tuts. “Perhaps you’re not as clever as I once thought.”

“He won’t do it. He knows that his love helps me, and as long as that’s in his priorities…” Your voice dies down, feeling like everything is falling apart as you speak.

“Yes, and how long will he care for a lower priestess when he can have a Reverend Mother? Especially one as faithful as him.” Ramallo shakes her head at your ignorance.

“Shut up! You’ve never felt love, you unspeakable witch–” You scream in Chakobsa, using the Voice, the full power of which seems to shake the temple.

Ramallo slaps you, hard enough that you fall back against the floor. Your skin hums with the stinging feel of a new bruise, sure to make it’s mark on your cheek– and she hisses at you.

“Insolent child. It was I that brought you here. It was I that even gave you the chance to be with Naib Stilgar. He would have never looked at you otherwise.” She mutters, and you feel your eyes glisten with tears.

She and your sisters leave, and you hold your breath, trying not to cry. Nezua strokes your arm.

“Perhaps, if he marries Jessica, it will only be a marriage in name.” She tries, but you shake your head. “You would be the one he really loves, Sahar.”

“Or I would be like a concubine– there to produce children, nothing more.” You think of how quickly you leapt into Stilgar’s waiting arms yesterday, and wonder if you were wrong. If his only intent was to have someone he could fuck on a ready basis.

You shake your head. “I need to speak to him.”

/

You sit on the ground of his quarters, stating a small prayer to stay calm, and when Stilgar walks in, he sounds pleased to see you.

“Sayyadina, I did not expect you back so soon.” He touches your hand, but based on how you draw yourself back, he knows something is wrong. “What is it?”

“You want Jessica. Right? To be your wife?” You say, and he shakes his head.

“We discussed it once–” and your stomach drops at that. “But it would have only been a marriage of convenience to protect her, long ago. Nothing more.”

“Then what happened today, in the deathstill?” You ask, and Stilgar furrows his brows.

“I only relayed Ramallo’s message to her. And she was a bit sad, so I comforted her, that’s all. She almost wasted some water by crying, so I drank it.” Stilgar sits down on the ground next to you. “I promise you, I do not want her.”

“Even if she’s a reverend mother? Closer to your faith? Easier to perpetuate our–” Here you stutter. “The mission?”

“Whoa, whoa.” He softens visibly. “Sayyadina, if you cannot see now that I love you, tell me how to right that wrong.”

“Tell me why you believe you’ll stick with me–” You tear up again and wipe it away. “Tell me you won’t leave me.” 

“I have no interest in Jessica– she is a conniving one, but whatever she thinks may happen, it will not.” He shrugs. “I don’t believe she loves me or wants me in that way, either– she still mourns her duke.”

Of course, you think. She might have only been staring at me that one time because she remembered when she used to be in love. Maybe she was even jealous… Jessica was a concubine.

You suddenly feel much more at peace. You don’t think you would’ve ever left Stilgar even if he had married Jessica– but you’re suddenly more understanding of her pain, to be the one not known in any collected record despite being loved.

“I only did anything I could to make her feel more comfortable with her new role.” Stilgar grins. “And if she succeeds– the faith will have more people interested in it, and there will be less pressure on us.”

“That’s true.” You finally tear your gaze from the floor to look at him, and he smiles at you before frowning at the bruise on your cheek.

“What’s this?” Stilgar gently touches you, and he gets angry hearing you hiss.

“Nothing, just a silly altercation.” You explain, but he’s not satisfied with that.

“With who?”

“Ah… Ramallo slapped me after I said she would never understand love.” Suddenly you’re ashamed, and you feel as if Stilgar would be disappointed in you. “She said the best thing would be if you married Jessica– and I guess I… I didn’t want to lose you, so I used the Voice on her.” “You did?” Stilgar raises his eyebrows, in surprise that you’d do such a thing, make a rash judgement like that against your elder. “I’m sorry you’re hurt.”

You lean into his touch, feeling better that he’s not angry at you.

“But I am sorry I wasn’t there to see you take ownership of me.” He laughs quietly. “You really love me that much? Then I’m only yours.”

You smile so hard at that– massive relief flowing through your nerves– and Stilgar kisses your bruise, before kissing your lips and making you feel whole again.

[gimmeyourlovepls]

Hiii idk if your requests are full or not, but if you're free can you write Miles Morales, where he was in love with the reader since they were kids, and now they're in their teens, but he doesn't know if she feels the same?

Doesn't matter which one, thanks! (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

Spider Senses

summary: miles wishes his spider senses showed him whether you liked him or not

a/n: i hope u like this :)) (p.s. my requests are very empty pls fill)

content warning: female reader, but it doesnt really affect the plot, hair described to smell like vanilla and cocoa butter, no texture described though, reader shown to wear makeup

a six year old was playing in the sandbox at a local playground, building a sandcastle. she giggled as she placed a small stick on the top of her sandcastle before some kids running as they played a game ran towards her. she managed to not get trampled by them, but her structure was ruin. tears started running down her cheeks.

"hey, are you ok?" a small child stood before her, his wide brown eyes staring down in concern. he had coily dark hair, and was holding a wrapped popsicle in his hand.

"my sandcastle..." she sputtered out, wiping her tears. it took her a while and she was disappointed that it was destroyed after all her hard work.

"don't cry! my mommy says that crying is bad, it gives you wrinkles," he spoke, looking around for a solution. "here! take my popsicle, and stop being sad, ok? you can't be all wrinkly!" handing her the package in her sandy little hands, her tears almost immediately stopped.

"yay! you're my friend now, come meet my mommy!" standing up on tiny legs, shaking so some sand falls off her already dirty dress, she took his hand and started walking to her mom, who was already staring at the scene with a smile, along with the boys mom, who was exchanging phone numbers with her for future playdates.

"mommy, this is my new friend!" letting go of his hand, she presented him to her mom, smiling brightly as the boy looked up at her with a nervous smile.

"aw, thats nice baby, do you know his name?" the mother asked, looking down at him with a kind smile.

the girl paused. did he ever tell her his name? "duh mommy, his name is..." she looked at the boy, whispering into his ear, "whats your name?" He whispered back to her, the two mothers laughing at the sight. "his name is miles, mommy! he gave me a popsicle!"

the mother glanced at miles. "well nice to meet you honey. i'm this little chipmunk's mom." she ticked the little girl gently as the child squirmed, giggling.

"mom, I'm not a chipmunk!" she pouted, looking up at the amused woman. "i'm a big girl now," she muttered, not wanting to be embarrassed in front of her new friend.

"i'm sorry honey, you're a big girl," her mom said, laughing softly. miles grabbed the girl's hand before pointing at the playground, where there was an empty pair of swings.

"look! the swings are free, lets go swing!" the duo ran through the woodchips towards the swings before they were taken, and luckily they made it before anyone else did.

as they started swinging, the girl opened the slightly melted popsicle, and gasped as she saw it was one of those double ones. with the most precision a six year old can muster, she split the popsicle and handed one side to him with a grin. "now we can share!"

the two mothers looked at the kids with a smile. they could tell this friendship was gonna be a good one.

---

flopping onto miles' bed, you take out your phone and show him a picture. "can we please go here miles? look how cute the food is!" on your phone screen, you were showing him picture after picture of a little cafe that opened not too far from his place.

"i dunno, the food looks cute for sure," he mutters, and you perk up. "but money..." you deflate immediately.

"c'mon, please? you know I get paid from ganke next week for helping him with homework, i'll pay you back!" staring at him with puppy dog eyes always broke down his (very small) defenses he held up against you. this little, ok well, not that little crush he held on you was making him basically silly puddy in your hands.

"you ain't gotta do that, i'll pay sunflower," he mumbles, sitting up. Seeing the smile that immediately lights up your face makes it worth the fact that those new markers and jordans he was saving up for would probably have to wait another month (or maybe two, since your birthday was coming up soon).

glancing at his floor as he looked for his shoes, he saw a drawing he had made of you about a week ago. he wasn't biased, but he thought it was one of his best works. you, surrounded in sunflowers and a smile shining from your face, he knew he was done for.

he was a broke boy in love.

---

you sat in front of miles, grabbing what looked like a torture device with a grin as you held his face still with one hand. "miles, hold still!"

"no, this is gonna kill me!"

you pouted, shifting closer to him. "its just my eyelash curler, now hold still!" you held it closer to his face as winced, trying to stay as still as possible. "there, almost done, last is the lips!"

as you scrambled to go get your lip gloss and lip liner, he wondered why he hadn't confessed yet. it was almost the 10 year anniversary of that playground meeting, and he swore he would tell you a year ago, but then again, he also said that the year before that one.

he looked down at the breakfast on his wrist, the black and red a perfect setting for the silver spider charm that sat perfectly in the middle. although you have (hopefully) not learned about secret alter ego, you said it fit his "vibe."

he just took your word for it with a nervous smile.

you came back with new supplies to decorate his face with, and as he saw the smile on your face, he swore he would tell you soon.

....maybe.

---

you hugged him tightly as you stood at the front door of his house, about to walk home. your hair smelled like vanilla and cocoa butter, and he wanted to bury his face into you (but in a non-creepy way, or course).

it was close to the last day of high school, and you and him were going separate ways, he wanted to go to one uni, and it wasn't the one for you. he was gonna miss your late night talks on the roof, splitting meat patties every friday, the way you dragged your fingers through his hair gently as you rambled about anything and everything.

he still hadn't told you he was spider-man, but now definitely wasn't the time. looking down at the well-worn bracelet on his wrist, he didn't know if he would even get around to it. maybe when he came to visit you?

kicking rocks on the sidewalk distracted him on his walk back home distracted him from his thoughts until-

bang!

he heard a clash of screams and destruction as he spun around to see a cloud of dust in the direction he just left from. whats going on?

thankful for the amount of alleyways in this side of town, he slipped off his normal clothes to reveal his suit and swung over buildings to assess before diving straight in, from his experience, not doing that normally led to a longer talk with the police.

ugh, some stupid new villain of the week. easy stuff. swing in, save citizens, then knock them out. as he webbed people out of the way, he spotted the one person he didn't want to be in the chaos.

"sunflower?" he gasped, and immediately as your face snapped to him, he knew he messed up. he'd play that off later, but for now, he had to act. quickly scooping you up in his arms, he dropped you on a roof of a building, quickly deepening his voice. "c-citizen, stay up here, ill... come back and get you, just-"

you grabbed his wrist with a stern look on your face. "you better not leave me up here, miles." he nodded quickly before running to go fight off the latest villain, who was apparently mad because the "love of her life" left her for university. 'join the club...' he thought before he dived down.

---

as he handed the lady to the police, he thought back to you on the roof, and your words.

'you better not leave me up here, miles.'

you had called him miles.... dammit, you knew. he groaned softly, before swinging back to the roof he left you on, seeing you play games on your phone. "took you long enough, bug-boy." you mumbled, slipping the device into your pocket.

"dont play me, sunflower. you know. you knew. how long?" he spoke, fiddling with his thumbs.

"um, lemme think... the day before i brought you that bracelet. i was waiting for you to tell me, but..." you look away from him with a small frown, biting the inside of your lip. he knew you only did that when u were thinking hard.

" 'm sorry, i was gonna but... i didn't."

"well... were you also gonna tell me that you like me?"

miles started choking on his spit, pulling up his mask to reveal his whole face. "w-what? y-you- what?"

"i saw the drawing on your floor. you made me look so... pretty." you stared at your shoes with that same smile as miles had captured in his drawing, suddenly finding your tangled laces interesting.

"you are pretty," he mumbled, staring at you, he could almost see the sunflowers blooming around you. "wish i said something before uni."

"yeah... but its not too late to do this, right?"

before he could ask what, your arms were wrapping around his shoulders as you met him in a sweet kiss, and damn it felt like everything he imagined and so much more.

"so... you like me?" miles looked at you with a boyish smile as you rolled your eyes.

"you're lucky i do," you said before you kissed him again, his arms finally moving to wrap around you. you were right though.

he was the luckiest boy he knew.

over 2 weeks on this i might jump 💀

[kazvha]

William helping you study maths

Another groan escapes you. You've been studying for the upcoming maths test, but the questions and even the solutions don't make any sense. How does one even come up with these approaches?

Frustrated, you bury your face in your palms, which stops you from the urge to bang your head against the table so that you don't have to look at these numbers anymore.

"If only Liam was here," you mutter. Your boyfriend would certainly be able to explain the topic to you. You would like to go and ask him, but he was surely still busy with work.

With your head lying on your desk now, you gaze into the void while hoping the papers beside you will disappear into nothingness.

Shortly after some minutes, someone knocks on your door and a familiar voice reaches your ears. "It's me, can I come in?"

It was William.

Immediately feeling energized again, you spring up to open the door for him. "Liam! What a pleasant surprise! What are you doing here so early?"

"I finished work earlier today," he smiled warmly, "What are you doing right now? I thought that we could take the lunch break together."

Your face falls. "Oh I would love to, but these math problems have been giving me a headache."

"Is that so? Let me help you then." His ruby-colored eyes take a look at your unorganized desk which is full of notes and exercises.

"I couldn't ask you to do that Liam, you can have your lunch break. I'll join you later maybe."

"No, it's alright darling." He walks up to your desk and pulls up another chair beside yours. "Spending time with you is much more enjoyable than taking my break alone. Besides, you know I love solving math problems."

Your heart melts and you decide to take a seat next to him. "I'll gladly accept your offer then. You're really helping me out here."

As you expected, you finally understand the topic after William takes his time to carefully explain each of your questions. You appreciate that he even answers your dumb questions without making fun of you for problems that should actually be crystal clear to you.

"It was really that obvious? How did I miss that..." you grumble, throwing your head back into the chair.

William chuckles as he pats your back. "Well, you know how it works now and that's what matters."

"You're... right. Thank you for helping me Liam, I was really desperate there. Honestly, I was one second away from burning everything down", you admit and hope that the look in your eyes conveys how grateful you are.

"I'm always glad to help, love", William answers with amusement in his voice. At the same time the sentence leaves his lips, his stomach growls.

You snicker and ask him, "What do you say about having our well-deserved lunch break now?"

To which William clears his throat and still tries to reply in a refined way despite his cheeks gaining a rosy tint. "Having it now would be more than alright for me."

[your-neighbor-in-the-northblue]

Zoro, Sanji, and Nami's Reactions To You Breaking Down In Their Arms

➼ Word Count » 0.7k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Genre » Hurt/Comfort, Platonic/Romantic

Zoro

His first instinct is to push you away but, for some reason, he can't find it in himself to do so. Instead, he just finds himself standing there in shock, uncertain of what to do or how to fix this.

He'll pat your back awkwardly as you sob into his chest. He feels horrible that he doesn't know what exactly he should be doing, but he also feels angry? Upset? Not at you, but at whatever it is that made you feel this way.

Eventually, he'll grab your shoulders firmly, pulling you away from him so that he can look you straight in the eyes and ask you what happened, racking his brain helplessly for any solution to your problem.

But you don't say anything, just sputter and shake as he keeps his hold on you. Just tell him how to fix it! Anything will do, he just wants to fix it!

"Oi, oi! Calm down! Just tell me what's wrong!"

The two of you end up standing alone on the deck until you tire yourself out and fall asleep on the grass.

He'll sit there with you in the dark, throwing a blanket over you as he leans against the rails of the ship.

He's a little harsh with how he comforts people, but he really is trying to find a way to help you out in your state of turmoil. His first thought is always to protect you and anyone else on his crew, and if he can't find a way to do that, he just gets antsy.

Sanji

Sanji freezes up the second he feels the tears staining his shirt. He's heartbroken and.. confused? Why are you crying?

He'll wrap his arms around you uncertainly as he brings you over to the kitchen table and sits you down, going to make you tea or anything else that's warm for you to drink.

He'll be so gentle in the way he treats you, both physically and with what he says. He can't count the number of times he's felt like this and feels as though he's an expert in what you need the most right now.

"Breath for me," He said, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders as he placed the mug on the table before you, "You'll be okay. Everything will work itself out, promise."

He'll sit there and listen to you and what you have to say for as long as you need, he'd even lock the kitchen door for you so that no one else could walk in on you at your lowest.

He'll reach out to rub your shoulders and whisper words of reassurance to you, promising you that nothing will ever harm you while he's around.

He hates seeing you this way and would gladly do everything in his power to make you happier. He'd stay right there in the kitchen with you forever if you asked.

Nami

She's quick to hug you back, shushing you as she runs her hands along your back. Her first thought is to comfort you, and then later, if you're ready, she'll ask you questions.

She'll guide you into the girls' quarters, sit you down on the bed, and let you sob into her lap as she pets your head, just allowing you to let it all out.

It's quiet and supportive, with no one to interrupt or walk in on you being so openly vulnerable, and you can bet that Nami wouldn't dare to tell a soul if you didn't want her to.

Once you begin to settle down, she'll begin to question if you're alright.

"Feeling better?" She'd smile as she played with your hair, "What happened?"

Afterward, she'd take you out shopping, her treat. A little retail therapy never hurt anyone, and you sure as hell deserved something nice after everything that's happened.

She has such a strong inclination to help whenever she sees anyone she cares about in a state such as this and would do anything in her power to make you feel better. She's so kind in how she approaches you and would gladly sit there and listen to everything that's been bothering you.

[yourdarkcherry]

Seducing Rafe Cameron || Ch. 3

Summary: You were blessed with an easy life since you were born, but it’s all threatened when your dad’s business fails and you find yourself with no prospects and no education and so your only solution is to marry rich. Who’s a better candidate than the older brother of your ex-best friend from high school? So you do everything in your power to seduce Rafe Cameron, not knowing he’s the root to all your problems.

Warnings: toxic relationship, spoiled reader, sexist elements, dark content, blackcoded reader, pregnancy, physical and emotional abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, death threats, eventual smut.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

You swear that this could’ve been the worst day of your entire life. From the start to the current moment it was all a series of unfortunate events. For some reason, you couldn’t wake up at the sound of your alarm, and you only awakened at the sound of your mother shaking you awake and asking you why you’re not attending your pilates class.

With wide eyes, you stare at your clock and find it’s displaying a 10:43 AM to you. Jumping from your bed, you rush to your bathroom with a continuous string of swear words at not attending your pilates class, or even finishing any of the errands you had to run.

The clock on your car shows 11:52 AM when you finally leave your house. You don’t even wait for the car to properly heat up and instantly begin your trip to the location Rafe sent you this morning, right after his good morning text that went ignored due to you oversleeping.

Then in your frenzy to reach the restaurant on time, you rear end someone. It was the last thing you wanted, and even when you exit the car you prepare yourself for the fight the other person would initiate. It was completely your fault, you were texting Rafe letting him know you will be late.

You inspect your car first, seeing the bumper threatening to fall any minute now, then you turn your head to the side and find the van you rear-ended was pretty damaged.

“Lady! Can’t you see where you were going?!” an irritated man comments, and it gets nearer to the back of the car to inspect the accident.

You try to put on your best sorry look, and then look at the person only to take a second look. You didn’t have to look at him three times to know who he was. With his long locks, and tan skin, then to the light blue van.

This is the man Sarah was dating, and currently dating according to what Wheezie told you last night. He recognizes you too, for some reason as he also does a look back and his eyes widen for a little.

“I’m sorry, I admit my fault I was pretty preoccupied.” you say, then move back to your car to take your phone, but when you return you’re shocked to find Sarah Cameron in the flesh, standing next to him.

You stop briefly in your tracks, taken back at seeing her for the first time in years. She looks exactly as you last seen her, you blame your complex emotions at seeing her on the fact that she looks like she’s always did, and not a single thing changed about her.

“(Y/N).” she calls your name first, you clear your throat and walk towards her and her boyfriend.

“Hello, Sarah.” you greet, and then take your gaze off her brown eyes and stare at the man, “my insurance can cover you, I’ll call them right now and let them know.” he nods, and you take a glance at Sarah one last time as you feel her stare on your face.

You turn around and dial in the insurance company number, although your phone glitches before you can call and then it vibrates as Rafe's name flashes in your phone. You don’t need to be a genius to know you weren’t late but you were very much unclassy late.

The kind of lateness that cannot be blamed on women’s vanity.

You answer immediately, and after your first “Hello?” he asks. “Is everything okay?”

“Uhm…” you cover your forehead as you look back on the accident. “Not really, rear-ended someone.” You answer honestly.

Rafe’s voice tightens with concern. “Where exactly are you right now? I need to know.”

You hesitate, glancing around at the scene. “I’m... just near the diner on Maple Street. But really, Rafe, you don’t have to come.”

“I’m coming over,” he insists. “I want to make sure you’re okay. Don’t move from where you are.”

You wince, knowing that Rafe’s presence would complicate things even more. Sarah Cameron, his disowned sister, is right here with her boyfriend. The last thing you want is for Rafe and Sarah to run into each other. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but—”

“No arguments. I’m on my way,” Rafe says firmly. “Just stay put and don’t try to handle this all on your own.”

Panic starts to set in. You know it’s a terrible idea to let Rafe come, but you also understand how stubborn he can be. “Okay, fine. But it’s really not a big deal, and I’m dealing with the insurance already. Maybe just... wait a bit before coming?”

“Just give me a few minutes, alright?” Rafe’s tone is insistent. “I’ll be there soon.”

As you hang up, you feel the weight of the situation press down on you. You glance over at Sarah and her boyfriend, trying to avoid making eye contact. This whole thing is turning into a mess you never anticipated

You take a deep breath, trying to focus on the silver lining of the situation. If Rafe shows up and helps you sort this out, he might feel useful, which you know is something he appreciates. Men often enjoy feeling like they’re making a difference, and this could be a way to turn a frustrating situation into a moment where he feels valued.

The call with the insurance company is short, you let them know of what happened abd they let you know of what to do.

When you walk closer to the van, you see Sarah lingering awkwardly close to you as she watches you take pictures of the accident. You pretend you don’t notice her while you text the pictures to the insurance company.

“So…how have you been?” she asks first.

You clear your throat, turning around to face her. “I’ve been good.” The awkward silence makes the heat of this summer feel even worse as your cheeks burn. “You?”

“I’ve been doing good too. I remember Wheezie told me that you uhm… you started this two year college in Charlotte town.” She says, shifting her weight from one leg to another.

“Yeah…the program was called hospitality excellence and etiquette.” you answer.

Her eyes widen slightly, then she tightens her lips into a tight line before she comments, “thought it was an english literature and writing program, you always did like that a whole a lot,” she then clears her throat. “You talked about it a lot back in high school.”

You nod, feeling a pang of discomfort. “Yeah, I changed direction. It seemed like a better fit.”

Sarah clears her throat, her gaze flickering between you and her boyfriend. “Well, it’s good you found something that works for you.”

Just then, your phone buzzes with a text from the insurance company: “We’ve reviewed the details and confirmed you are at fault. Please provide the contact information for the other party so we can proceed with covering the damage.”

Before you can respond, Rafe’s car pulls up, and you feel a rush of mixed emotions. You glance at Sarah, who seems equally tense, and then back at Rafe as he steps out of the car.

You manage a strained smile as you finish texting the insurance company. The weight of the awkward situation settles heavily on your shoulders. As Rafe approaches, you feel a knot tighten in your stomach.

Rafe’s eyes meet yours, and you see his expression shift from concern to confusion as he takes in the scene. Without needing any introductions, he asks, “Is everything okay?”

You try to sound calm. “Yeah. Just trying to get the insurance stuff sorted out.”

Rafe’s gaze flickers to Sarah, his tension palpable. He doesn’t need any introductions to understand the situation. Sarah’s discomfort is visible as she shifts her weight, unable to meet Rafe’s eyes. Then, Rafe steps close to inspect the accident.

When Sarah’s boyfriend comes closer, he asks, “you talk to insurance yet?”

Before you could answer him, Rafe shields your vision of the man. “Give me your phone. I need to talk to insurance,”

“Oh, yeah sure.” you hand him your phone. “But why?”

He steps so close to you, allowing you to take whiffs of his spicy cologne and the sight of his pretty blue eyes hitting the sun so perfectly. Then his voice drops lower, “I just don’t trust that pogue, maybe he saw your car and decided to break check.”

You blink at him in cluelessness, “why would he do that?”

“To take your money, of course.” Rafe answers. “But don’t worry, I’ll let insurance know how to handle it.”

He takes your phone from your palm, your fingers brushing ever so slightly but still sending shocks throughout the rest of your body nonetheless.

He starts speaking to the insurance company, his voice low and authoritative. You watch him handle the situation with a blend of relief and unease, his presence both a comfort and a complication.

Meanwhile, Sarah stands awkwardly, her gaze flicking between Rafe and the damaged van. Her boyfriend, clearly frustrated, starts to mutter under his breath, but he doesn’t press the issue further with Rafe present.

You can’t ignore the tension in the air. The silence stretches as Rafe talks on the phone, his tone firm and decisive. You can’t help but notice how effortlessly he takes control of the situation, and despite everything, you find yourself grateful for his intervention.

When Rafe finally hangs up, he hands your phone back to you, his expression serious. “I’ve given them the details and made sure they know about the potential for fraud. They’ll be in touch with you soon.”

“Fraud?!” Sarah and her boyfriend repeat in disbelief, and exchange a shocked look before Sarah steps closer to Rafe. Her hands on her hips as she glares at him, “why the fuck would there be a possibility for fraud?”

Rafe meets her gaze evenly, not backing down. “Because it’s not uncommon for people to stage accidents to make a quick buck. It’s better to be cautious and make sure everything is above board.”

Sarah’s eyes narrow, her face flushed with anger. “You don’t know that. You’re just making assumptions.”

Rafe’s tone remains calm, though there’s a hint of annoyance. “I’m just protecting (Y/N). It’s my job to ensure everything is handled properly.”

Sarah’s boyfriend, still simmering, steps forward. “Look, we don’t need any more complications. This is already a mess.”

Sarah only looks between you and Rafe with that look she used to get when she’s connecting dots in her head. You feel like you should avoid her gaze, and cower in shame should she find out. Except, you don’t.

You have nothing to feel shameful about. She did sleep with your boyfriend in high school and betrayed your trust and broke your friendship just like that. So you think she can handle the little discomfort she will get at finding out that you and her brother are dating.

Sarah looks detached, her gaze distant as she processes Rafe’s comments. She pulls her boyfriend away slightly, her voice tight with control. “Fine, we’ll discuss it. Just… (Y/N),” she calls and you look at her as she continues, “give me your number so I can contact you about it.”

Rafe shakes his head, his expression firm, “she’s not giving her number to you. I’ll give mine to your boyfriend instead. He can handle the details and get in touch with me if needed.”

Sarah’s frustration is palpable, but she holds back her retort. She gives a curt nod, accepting the compromise.

Her boyfriend takes out his phone, and Rafe quickly gives him his number. As they exchange contact information, Sarah’s eyes flicker with a mix of emotions—anger, resignation, and something else you can’t quite place.

When Sarah and her boyfriend walk to their van. Rafe looks at your car, “you cannot drive this till it gets fixed.”

“Yeah, it’s another accident asking to happen.” you answer sadly.

“It’s okay though, I’ll take it to the shop and get it fixed for you.” He said, a hand on your shoulder, his touch warm and grounding.

“Thank you, Rafe.” you tell him. A switch in your head flips, then you add, “you’re so helpful, I wouldn’t have known what to do without you.”

His eyes slightly widen, taken off-guard at your words and attitude but he doesn’t seem like he hates it. Trying to pretend that you don’t notice the effects your words had on him, you stare at the clock on your phone.

“Your lunch break ends at 1 right?” you ask, and he hums as he directs you to his car that’s parked haphazardly. You climb up to the passenger seat of his car, then buckle in your seatbelt. When he enters his car, you say, “I feel bad for wasting your lunch break.”

“You didn’t, I’m just glad to see you.” he says, and you resist the smile that’s forming on your face but you fail.

He doesn’t see you as he starts his car once again. “I have a little more than twenty five minutes left of my lunch break, so I’ll just drive you home.”

The ride back is quiet, a comfortable silence settling between the two of you. You can feel the tension from earlier slowly dissipating, replaced by a sense of calm. Rafe’s presence, while sometimes intense, has a way of grounding you. You sneak a glance at him, noticing the way his hands grip the steering wheel, his knuckles white.

Seeing Sarah must’ve affected him just as deeply as you—if not more.

You decide that not speaking about it is the best option. If he didn’t bring it up first, then you won’t utter a single word.

The memory of seeing his disowned sister and seeing your ex-best friend would be buried for now.

Thankfully, your house wasn’t that far from the accident place. As you approach your place, Rafe speaks up, breaking the silence. “You sure you’re okay? That was a lot back there.”

You nod, your eyes meeting his briefly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… a bit shaken up, I guess.”

Rafe pulls up into the driveway of your house and shifts the car into park. “Well, if you need anything, you know you can call me, right?”

His offer is genuine, but there’s something in the way he says it that makes your heart skip a beat. You nod again, feeling the weight of the day starting to lift. “Thanks, Rafe. I really appreciate it.”

He turns to face you fully, his expression softening, “you don’t have to thank me. I’m happy to help.”

For a moment, you both just sit there, the air between you charged with something unspoken. Then, before the moment can stretch too long, you reach for the door handle, “I should probably get inside.”

Rafe nods, he says as he’s watching you hold your purse, “I’ll check in with you later, okay? Make sure everything’s sorted out.”

You step out of the car, feeling a strange mix of emotions. Relief, gratitude, maybe even a bit of something more. Before you could close the door, you linger slightly as he watches you.

He was so helpful and reliable today, and you don’t really want to let him go just yet. You want to talk with him more, be around him. You try to pretend that it’s all for the plan, and not because of a deep want within you.

“Uhm…why…why don’t you come inside?” you ask.

His eyebrows almost raise up to his hairline comically. You look at the black leather of his seats, shyness taking over you. “I could make you a sandwich, I feel bad just for sending you to work like that.”

He opens his mouth to speak, and you fear that it’s a rejection, so you hastily interrupt him as you look at your fingers. “Something quick, I’ll take like one minute making it for you, and your break finishes in exactly twenty minutes.”

“Sure…I’d like that.” he says genuinely, and you finally look up to him to see him smiling.

He kills the engine, and then gets out of his car. You walk side by side to the door, your heart beats faster with each step.

When you reach the door, your fingers fumble slightly with the keys, but you manage to unlock it, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

“Make yourself at home,” you say, trying to sound casual, though your voice betrays a hint of nervousness.

You walk further inside to the kitchen, feeling his presence following you. As you enter the kitchen, you set your purse on the counter. Then you start gathering the things you need for a simple sandwich from the fridge, and you bring it all to the island.

He sits on one of the chairs facing the island. He looks around a little, taking in the clean kitchen then he asks, “is your mom home?”

You glance at him as you’re taking bread slices out. “Probably not, she might’ve gone out for the afternoon,” you reply, your voice a little quieter than usual as you focus on getting the sandwich together. You can feel Rafe's eyes on you, and it makes your movements slightly more deliberate, more aware of every little thing you’re doing.

He hums in response, leaning back in his chair, still watching you. “How was your pilates class?”

“Oh…I didn’t go, woke up late actually.” you answer honestly. Focusing on spreading the mayo on the other slice of bread.

Rafe’s gaze sharpens slightly as he listens to your response, though he maintains a relaxed posture in the chair. “Woke up late, huh?” His tone is casual, and you don’t think much of it as you focus on the sandwich. His eyes are still fixed on you, watching your every movement with a kind of intensity that you chalk up to concern.

“Yeah, just one of those mornings,” you say lightly, now spreading mustard on the bread. You glance up at him, catching his steady gaze, but it doesn’t faze you—if anything, it makes you feel like he’s paying attention, like he cares.

He hums again, the sound thoughtful. “You know,” he says slowly, “I could help with that. Making sure you don’t miss anything important.”

You look up at him, tilting your head in curiosity. “What do you mean?”

He leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on the island, his eyes still locked on yours. “Just thinking… I could check in on you in the mornings. Make sure you’re up and ready. We wouldn’t want you missing out on anything.”

You smile at the offer, feeling a warmth in your chest. “That’s really sweet of you, Rafe, but I think I just need a better alarm clock.”

Rafe’s lips curl into a small smile, and you take it as a sign that he’s just being his usual considerate self. “Yeah, maybe,” he says, and you hear a touch of amusement in his voice. “But, you know, I’m just a call away. For anything.”

“Thanks, Rafe,” you say, genuinely appreciating his concern. It feels good to have someone who’s so attentive, who seems to genuinely care about the little things in your life.

He watches you for a moment longer, and you assume he’s just making sure you’re okay after the stressful day you’ve had. When he finally leans back in his chair, he says, “No problem. Just looking out for you.”

You finish making the sandwich and place it on a plate, sliding it across the island to him.

“There you go,” you say, stepping back and leaning against the counter, trying to act nonchalant.

“Thanks,” he says, picking up the sandwich and taking a bite. While he’s eating you quickly take a clean cup from one of the upper cupboards, open the fridge and pour in orange juice in it. Then you slide it to him again.

You can feel him watching you as you move around the kitchen. You open the drawer and take a new ziploc bag, then head to the pantry and place in four cookies you made. You gasp as you recalled you didn’t even give him water. He watches you with curiosity as you walk once again to the drinks fridge and take a cold water bottle.

He’s halfway finished with his sandwich by the time you slide along the cookies and the water bottle to him.

“Uhm, I made those cookies…a new recipe so I’m proud of them.” You tell him while grinning as you sit next to him.

Rafe looks down at the cookies, then back at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “You didn’t have to do all this, you know,” he says, though there’s a hint of something warm in his voice, like he’s pleased by the attention.

You shrug, your grin widening. “I wanted to. You’ve been so helpful today, it’s the least I can do.”

He takes the bag of cookies, inspecting them for a moment before glancing back at you. “I’ll have to give these a try later. If they’re as good as this sandwich, I’m sure they’ll be great.” His tone is easygoing, but there’s a spark in his eyes, like he’s enjoying this little routine you’ve set up for him.

You beam at the compliment, feeling a flutter in your chest. “I hope you like them.”

“I think it’s safe to assume there will be a make-up date.” He says casually. You gulp nervously as you look away shyly. “Of course.”

“Tomorrow.” he says.

“I can’t, I have my girls' day plans with Wheezie, remember?” you say.

“Your car will be at the shop, who’s going to be taking you?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Probably call an Uber—”

“No Uber.” His tone is final and assertive, but it catches you off-guard as you watch him quietly. So he adds, “if you need someone to drive you anywhere, just call me.”

You fight the urge to refuse. It would be too much of a hassle, but your mother told you many times that men love feeling helpful. So you smile and nod, “sure.” you answer softly.

“Great. I’ll drive you and Wheezie tomorrow then.” He affirms while standing up, then washes his hands in the sink. He grabs the water bottle and the cookie bag and then heads to the front door. You follow him to his car.

Even though he barely has ten minutes to drive to work, he still cranks his window down as you approach it. His smile is soft. “Thanks for the food. I’ll update you later about your car.”

You nod at his words, smiling back too. “Drive safe.”

Rafe’s smile deepens as he hears your soft reply. “I will,” he says, his tone reassuring. He watches you for a moment longer, his gaze lingering on your face like he’s memorizing every detail.

You step back as he starts the car, waving at him as he pulls out of the driveway. There’s a strange warmth in your chest as you watch his car disappear down the street, a mix of emotions you’re not entirely sure how to process. He was so insistent, so protective—it’s nice to have someone who cares that much, you tell yourself.

Out of all your candidates, you know he’s the best. He’s always been responsible.

You don’t want to believe your mother’s theories, but she’s always been right. She did tell you that Kelce is a youngest child, so he’s pretty spoiled and probably hasn’t worked a day in his life and simply would deflect all his responsibilities. Topper is an only child, he’s selfish and stubborn and most likely wouldn’t even understand why you need help in the first place.

Meanwhile Rafe, he’s the oldest brother between his siblings. He’s always knew how to be responsible—even if Ward at first claimed otherwise. You knew that Rafe is a proactive person, he wouldn’t stand still if he knew you had a problem. He would help you if he could, and if he couldn’t, he would try everything to still help.

He's the best candidate, and you would be damned if you just let go of him.

[medusapelagia]

29 The Escape

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt:Future ) and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: Force into hiding) Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: Eddie shaving his head (I know!!!) Words: 1196

“We are leaving. Now.” Steve says, grabbing the duffle bag they always have ready under the bed.

“Who?”

“Suits.”

Fuck. Still better than Demogorgons, but not ideal.

“How many?”

“Eddie, I didn’t stay to introduce myself, ok? I just saw a couple waiting suspiciously outside the diner and I turned back before they saw me.”

“You’re not wanted. You could just go there and tell them I kidnapped you or some shit like that. Everyone will believe you and you will finally be free from hiding.”

“No fucking way. We’re in this together, did you forget it?”

Steve was the only other person at the trailer when Chrissy’s Cunningham body snapped into pieces like nothing. He knew about monsters, and creatures from other dimensions, and now that the big boys have invaded Hawkins, he’s Eddie’s only companion. Steve’s the one who can drive, go grocery shopping, book a stupid motel room, all of this while Eddie hides in the trunk or in the back seat covered by bags and moldy blankets. Because nobody suspects that Steve Harrington, Hawkins's golden boy, is friends with the suspected serial killer Eddie Munson.

Yeah, because after Chrissy other two teenagers died one after the other, Fred and Patrick, and even Max almost didn’t make it. But the danger is still lingering in Hawkins, waiting to find a way to get back to their dimension, and while Eleven, the super girl, and the Party do their best to find a possible solution with the help of Owens’ team, Eddie is still suspect number one so the only thing he can do is hide.

Canada doesn’t sound so bad after all. A little bit cold, maybe, but Steve told him his parents have a house somewhere in Canada and that’s exactly where they are going, traveling by night, driving always within the limits to avoid bad encounters.

Avoiding Hawkins’ checkpoints wasn’t that easy, but luckily the military was still busy coordinating the aid and it wasn’t that hard to pretend that Eddie died in the earthquake, but now that they are finally close it seems that the suit is following them. Maybe they didn’t find a body and so they have sent communication outside Indiana. For the first time ever Eddie saw his face on the television and it wasn’t a nice feeling. But Steve is optimistic, he keeps saying that they are almost there. Just a couple of days more and they’ll pass the border and then things will get better.

“Hey, big boy, need a place to rest?” Eddie asks, seeing Steve’s head fall down abruptly.

“I’m good. We’re almost there.”

“We are not, Steve. We can rest for a moment, you know that right?”

“We can’t keep spending money in motels, we have to save. Canada is expensive.”

“Let’s reach a parking area and rest for a bit, huh? Just half an hour, maybe less.” Eddie proposes, while he knows perfectly well that if Steve agrees he will let him sleep way more than half an hour. The boy has huge dark bags under his eyes, and they haven’t checked his wounds in hours. They surely need to be clean again. And that’s Eddie's second part of the plan. Get clean in a bathroom and maybe do something a little bit drastic but necessary.

“Ok. Just half an hour, ok?”

Eddie winks, fingers crossed behind his back.

Once they find a little rest area he helps Steve in the back of the car, it’s not comfortable enough, Steve is too tall and he’s sleeping all crumpled on the back seat, but it’s still better than sleeping on the driver seat.

Eddie turns on the radio, keeping it softly, listening to the night music. A dejay somewhere is talking to the night people, and Eddie never felt such a deep connection with someone he doesn't even know.

His life, his messy and complicated life, it’s gone. The only person who ever cared about him thinks he’s dead, or a murderer, or both. And he didn’t graduate. Not even on his third try.

The sun is starting to shine when Steve stirs in the back, coursing loudly when he notices how late it is, but Eddie simply shrugs.

“You needed to rest, Steve. We both know it, and a couple of hours will not fuck up our entire plan, ok? Now come on. I need to check your wounds and ask you a favor.

***

The bathroom next to the gas station is filthy, dirty and smelly. The walls that once were white are now yellowish and covered in pornographic graffiti and phone numbers. For a moment Eddie wonders if they should call one of those numbers, just to hear who will answer. Maybe Mary Ann, who seems to be ready to help everyone feel good, is just a nice granny baking cookies in California.

“You ready?” Eddie asks, grabbing the white bag with antiseptic and bandages Steve just bought.

“Be quick, I don’t want to lose more time.”

“Yes, captain,” Eddie chuckles, unwrapping Steve’s bandages while he holds his t-shirt and hisses between his teeth, “This might sting a little. Sorry.”

Steve nods and Eddie cleans the wounds that are still pouring some blood even after days.

“You should have those checked. Like professionally.” Eddie says, trying his best to patch him up.

“Once we’re in Canada I promise I will,” Steve replies, pulling down his t-shirt and covering his hairy chest that was already giving too many ideas to Eddie.

“Now what? You told me you needed a favor.” 

Eddie nods, grabbing his switchblade, “Cut my hair.”

“What?! No!”

“I’m too fucking recognizable, Steve. Cut my fucking hair, then I’ll shave my head.”

“I thought you wanted to shave your face! not your hair! I’m not going to let you.”

“So what? Are you telling me what I can do and what I can’t, Stevie?”

“No… it’s just… it’s your hair.”

“They’ll grow back.” and they will, the only thing Eddie doesn’t know is if they’ll grow back in prison or not.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I hate this!” Steve complains, but grabs the switchblade and starts to cut Eddie’s black curls. 

The more hair falls on the ground the more Eddie remembers that his father used to keep him with a buzzcut and that he hated it, but that’s not the moment to cry on some stupid hair.

“Do you want me… do you want me to shave you?” Steve asks softly.

“Please…” Eddie begs, unable to stare at the mirror.

Steve squeezes Eddie’s shoulder, trying to reassure him, and then he starts to shave his head. Once he’s done Eddie doesn’t seem the same person as he was when they first entered the bathroom. Even he as to stare at the mirror for a long time to realize that’s him. Once he’s finally convinced they leave the bathroom and get back in the car.

This time Eddie is sitting next to Steve, wearing Steve’s clothes and with a shaved head he keeps playing with.

“You ok?”

“Peachy.”

He freezes when they cross the border, but once they are safely in Canada Eddie takes a big breath of relief.

Maybe he’ll have a future after all.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook’s tattoos cure your winter blues and you paint his life with colors.

> fluff / wc: 2.3k

> warnings: brief mention of mother gothel being an abusive gaslighter lol you’ll seeeee, one (1) nipple pinch

note: reblogged this post with the tattoos mentioned in the drabble so you can check those out for better visualization if you want !! :D

my first post of year being about jungkook’s tattoos only feels right. hehe feedback is always appreciated <3

—

you breathe out another sigh as your peripheral vision catches the view of snow falling from the heavens yet again. you’re lying on the floor with a pillow and a blanket, only a few feet away from the glass door dividing the balcony and the living room.

“a penny for your thoughts?”

you tilt your head to peek through the book you’re reading. “what?”

“you’ve been sighing and pouting.” jungkook points out from the couch, dedicated to the task of folding the fresh laundry. two stacks of clothes, separated by yours and his, are sitting on his right, while the laundry basket is on his left.

“. . . and your octopus is mad.” referring to that famous reversible octopus plushie you bought for fun many months ago. it’s sitting behind your pillow, color blue and stitched with a displeased expression.

you lay down the book over your chest before sighing deeply. “i feel sad. i miss summer.”

your confession makes him quirk a curious eyebrow. “you miss summer? but you hate summer.”

unsure about how to explain yourself, you stick with silence, eyeing him intently with a frown you don’t even realize you’re making.

“what’s that look for?” he chuckles nervously while clutching a pair of your pajama shorts to his chest.

“you’re wearing a sweater.”

as if on cue, he looks down at the cream-colored sweater embracing his torso. “and? you got this for me.”

“it’s the reason i’m missing summer!” you sit up abruptly, the book stumbling over your lap before it finally lands on the floor. and before you can rethink the words you’ve been whining non-stop inside your head, they break free from the restraints on your tongue. “i miss seeing your tattoos.”

an amused grin paints his face. he throws his head back with his eyes closed and nose scrunched, laughing with no sound as he processes your revelation.

“that’s what this is about?”

“. . . yes.” you answer hesitantly, realizing how you just dug yourself a grave and pushed yourself in it.

he tuts as he tucks his long hair behind his ears, crossing his legs and stretching his tattooed arm on top of the couch’s backrest. you catch the tail of his snake tattoo peeking out of the sweater’s sleeve.

what an evil, sexy, sexy man.

“it’s your fault. you won’t let me turn up the heating so i’m always cold.”

“i woke up sweating yesterday when you turned it up again. this is a house, not a sauna.”

“and you make it too cold!” he interjects with a laugh. “want to meet halfway?”

it seems that the deal he just offered is the only possible solution to your winter blues. the holidays have come and gone. the decorations and lights are already being taken down, and you can’t stand to live a colorless life.

you act defeated, feigning your eagerness, but he doesn’t miss the small smile forming on your face. “fiiine.”

“okay!” he enthusiastically responds with that satisfied grin he makes when he gets his way.

he doesn’t waste any time. he instantly goes to adjust the temperature inside the house, going exactly between the numbers you stubbornly punch in behind each other’s backs. forced to come out of your little cocoon, you rip away the blanket from your body and toss it aside.

“i’ll get rid of the sweater now.” he clicks his tongue and sends a teasing wink your way as he walks to your shared bedroom.

you groan, burying your flustered face in the palm of your hands to hide. “i hate you sometimes.”

his melodic laughter echoes in the hallway.

—

jungkook enters the walk-in closet to replace the sweater with a classic white sleeveless shirt. on sunny days, he often wears this or go shirtless in your home. you’ve been especially happy with that since summer last year— after he got his faded tattoos colored, redesigned, and covered up.

of course, you’ve always shown plenty admiration to his first tattoos and the many more that came after them. he gradually filled up the space on his right arm with the ink and formed a tattoo sleeve. however, his new and improved tattoos seem to bring you a special kind of joy he must admit he doesn’t fully understand.

he’s been planning to get his arm fixed since he noticed the tattoos starting to fade, but he struggled to find the time to finalize his design ideas and get the job done. the truth is you were the one who inspired him to quit overthinking every little detail, and to finally carry on with his long overdue plans.

it all started with his birth flower.

—

“all those days watching from the windows, all those years outside looking in~” you sung along softly to tangled’s most beloved song.

jungkook diverted his attention from the television to observe you, unconsciously smiling to himself as he did so. your legs were draped over his lap, and your back was hunched forward as you entertained yourself with coloring his tiger lily tattoo as if it was a page on a coloring book.

it was seven minutes past midnight, and you like the room as dark as possible when you do movie date nights. that’s why you were practically using the lanterns during rapunzel and flynn rider’s ‘i see the light’ as your own lights of guidance as well.

when you paused the movie just before the song started, he thought you were just going to use the bathroom. but you quickly came back with the box of temporary tattoo markers he forgot that even existed. he bought it years ago and used the black marker to figure out the placements of his hand tattoos because he was scared that he’d end up not liking how they looked together. honestly, he doesn’t even remember packing it when he moved in with you. were you the one who saved it from the discard pile?

and as you held his arm close to you, you innocently asked him. “may i?”

“do whatever you want, baby.” he gave permission not only because your bewitching eyes were sparkling, but also because he knew how you find joy in doing little things like this.

you were most probably inspired by the sundrop flower mother gothel stole, he thought as he watched you bring his birth flower to life. you colored the anthers dark brown, and you were already halfway done with the orange petals.

he noticed that you kept on trying to move your head closer to his arm so you could see the details of his tattoo better, which caused your glasses to often slide down your nose bridge, so he took it upon himself to hang it suspended in the air to make things easier for you.

that was until you slapped his wrist lightly. “put it down. your arm will get sore.”

and he dropped it back down.

“thanks, baby boy.”

the pet name made him blush profusely, the rose tint that adorned the apple of his cheeks concealed by the light from the television screen reflecting on his face. its effect on him, never changing, because you only utter it occasionally and it catches him off guard every damn time.

when she successfully brought rapunzel back to the tower, you brought up how mother gothel is one of scariest disney villains for her realistic portrayal of an abusive gaslighter posing as a loving mother. jungkook didn’t even realize that you were still watching the movie. and then you obstructed his vision with the box of markers to briefly steal his attention away from the screen.

“pick two colors.”

“hmm, red and blue.”

“i’m doing this one next.” you pointed at the ‘WINNERS NEVER QUIT’ tattoo above the crease of his forearm. “should i use the colors interchangeably or like make a gradient?”

“gradient.” he responded, yawning sleepily right after.

“i sound like a real artist, don’t i?” you asked with a toothy grin.

“you are one. this looks pretty, love.” he talked about the tiger lily, stretching his forearm towards the television to shine light over it. “when did you get a glitter pen?”

you waved the gold glitter pen with a giggle. you used it to make the flower look like it was radiating magical star dust. “i brought it with the markers.”

and that’s when he decided to finally contact the tattoo artist he’s been meaning to meet up with since the year prior. you made him see the element of art that his tattoos dangerously lacked. colors.

if there was anyone on earth who would be able to open his eyes to that, it only made sense that it would be you.

—

“you finished showering?” you peeked into the walk-in closet, excitedly skipping your way to jungkook. he was standing infront of his underwear cabinet, fresh from the shower and only wearing a towel wrapped around his waist.

he chuckled straight away when he noticed you holding the tube of ointment. “wait. let me put on my boxers first.”

“okaaay.”

you eagerly waited for him on the bench from the other side of the small room. he swiftly slid on a pair of black boxers and sat next to you, offering his arm for your therapeutic indulgence. ever since jungkook started getting his cover-ups done, you already made it part of your routine to apply the prescribed ointment on his healing tattoos throughout the day.

some people meditate, some people solve puzzles. you? you sit down and take your sweet time admiring the glorious pieces of art inked on your boyfriend’s skin.

“they’re so itchy. i want to scratch.” he spoke through gritted teeth as you applied a thin layer of the ointment on top of the tattoos on the outside of his forearm.

“i’m practically scratching them, you know?”

you cautiously swiped your fingers across his ‘RATHER BE DEAD THAN COOL’ and ‘MAKE HAY WHILE THE SUN SHINES’ tattoos, connected by the letter T like they were the answers to a crossword puzzle. they were enhanced by giving them colored shadows: the former’s is red, and the latter blue. and because the letter T completes both tattoos, they mixed the two colors and gave it a purple shadow. oh god, it scratches your brain just right every time you see them. you love yourself some color theory.

the ones on the inside are almost completely healed, you’ve been through the itchiness and peeling off phase with them already. it never gets easier no matter how many times he has experienced it, always complaining about the itchy phase being worse than the pain of getting poked with the needles.

“no, you’re not. you’re so gentle that i feel like i’m being tickled. it makes it worse.” he cried out in frustration, head falling on your shoulder as he fought the excruciating urge to scratch his skin.

“so you want me to be rough and infect you?”

“. . . no.” his awkward voice came out muffled against your neck. “it actually makes me feel nice. like, inside my heart. thank you.”

—

“are you happy now, baby?”

jungkook’s mellifluous voice steals your focus from the purple sweater you’re folding over the table. he towers over you with his naked muscular arms crossed infront of his chest— the ravishing view you’ve dearly missed makes your lips slowly curve into a shy smile.

gone is the melancholia that visibly weighed you down, replaced by an aura he can only describe as the sunrise, but even the sunrise would hang its head in shame if challenged by your beauty and grace.

dear god, he wants to spend the rest of his waking days making you happy and learning what it means to be alive from the look on your face.

“very much.” you loop your hands around his forearms, and with a playful roll of his eyes, he lets you pull his weight down to the couch.

“you folded the rest of the clothes? how are you so fast?”

you reward his tattooed shoulder with lingering kisses before caging his face in your hands to give his lips a rather chaste one.

“i did. that’s the last one.” you pout at the direction of the sweater.

being your boyfriend’s diligent self, he scoots forward to fold it, excited to tick off the task of folding laundry from his to-do list. you seize this opportunity to trace the blue ‘BulletProof’ under his elbow, still finding the font super cool despite seeing it almost (fuck winter) everyday. knowing this all too well, jungkook smiles at the feeling of your delicate fingers caressing his skin. it’s almost as if you’re scared you could possibly erase the ink needled under it.

after carrying each of your own pile of folded clothes to the closet, jungkook voices out the idea that popped in his mind when he was changing his top. “let’s watch rapunzel. i’m in the mood for a disney movie today.”

you fail to bottle up a giggle, finding his little mistake so heartwarmingly endearing. “sure. but babe, the movie is called tangled.”

his doe eyes widen comically as if he was struck by headlights in the middle of the night. “that’s what i said!”

you lightly pinch his nipple. “you liar!”

“. . . was that supposed to be a punishment?”

you blink. “yes.”

his mischievous smile tells you everything that you need to know. “i said tangled the first time! cross my heart!”

“not gonna work anymore.” you stick your tongue out playfully, picking up the octopus plushie beside you and turning it inside out to reveal its yellow smiling face.

it’s his turn to sigh dramatically today.

as he starts typing ‘tangled’ on the television using the remote control, he mumbles to himself. “it was a nice try.”

—

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[pellelavellan]

@quiisquiliae from here

"There is always a lesser evil." The inquisitor insisted.

He expected backlash for the choices made at the masquerade ball from a number of people: his advisers, the people of Orlais, shit even people who weren't Orlesian. He'd done what he had to, and as far as he was concerned had done nothing he wasn't told to do. He was told to make a decision, and he did. The circumstances were not perfect, but he saw an opportunity fall in front of him and he took it.

He wasn't happy about cozying up to people who would certainly sell him for a crust of bread, doing them favors, smiling and thanking them for backhanded compliments. He hated every second of it. But that was the game had to be played. It was necessary to play people, get them to think he was on uninformed of their political squabble or they'd keep their mouths shut. If he knew anything about the sorts of people that wandered that ballroom, it was that they loved to talk about themselves, and thought their opinions and ambitions were the most interesting thing to be heard. So he let them think whatever they wanted if it got them babbling.

Truth was he had done his research, and he had actually hoped he might meet Briala at the ball. There were questions that needed answers. Some she could tell him herself and some her body language and inflections would tell for her.

He needed to know if somewhere down there she still cared for the Empress, or the Empress for her. He got that answer, and he used that information accordingly.

"I know what you must think. I acted with an agenda to impose. I manipulated two women who have no business together into forgiving each other, one of which as I see it has no right to forgiveness. I put in a precarious situation to prove a point, and used their affections for each other against them. But do you not think it is better this way for them to see that two people, and one who they would otherwise overlook can work together? Do you not see that men who will do anything to seize power are better off removed before they become a deeper problem?" He sighed. Talon wasn't really the person to argue this with.

It wasn't like Talon was deeply involved in the political turmoil that was the Orlesian court, or that he could perchance offer a better solution. He had asked a question, he hadn't accused him or anything.

"Listen, I don't know if I did the right thing. That's kind of the shitty part about all of this isn't it?" He was very stressed, visibly so. Pacing around the war room babbling all his concerns to no one in particular. The feelings he had were somewhere between anger and fear. Angry that he was certain some would see his actions as a threat, or a ploy to force his ideals onto an entire country, and afraid of the consequences those notions would create. "I don't think anyone knows really. We all just do things and hope they don't come back to bite us in the ass. This certainly will, and I know, I fucking know it will!"

[mvltisstuff]

could you do a jealous conrad fic?

don’t blame me - c.f

summary: request

conrad fisher x reader

a/n: thank you for the request <33

conrad felt bad for what he did, or he thought he felt bad. he knew it was for the best, but he saw how let down y/n was.

he had to, though. he new this new guy was bad news. y/n was just his new target, someone who didn’t know what he was all about. this guy just used girls left and right for his own gain. conrad just wanted her to be ok in the end. she’d be more hurt if conrad didn’t stop it.

she was trying to ignore everything in her mind that she had for conrad. y/n always admired him. he was always her favorite, and days were better when conrad was in them. she was scared to fall in love with him so fast, because her biggest fear is pushing him away. on the other hand, conrad was undoubtedly falling for y/n very quickly. he panicked, he didn’t know what to do but to stop whatever she’s doing.

it all rooted from jealousy, but it branched out into protection of y/n and her precious heart. he wouldn’t dare to watch it break when he could do something about it. so, he scouted for the phone number of the boy y/n was seeing. he tried so hard to force him to stay away from y/n, and just to leave her alone. but, of course, the stubbornness got the best of the other party, and he wanted more. y/n was an easy girl to just add to your body count and get things you need from her to him. to conrad, she was more. she could easily become his whole world.

that’s when the deal was made. conrad paid the guy to stop seeing y/n. conrad figured it would only last until he found another girl, so he obliged. even though y/n wasn’t head over heels for this guy, it still hurt watching him slowly get less interested. she watched as he stopped answering and started making excuses. naturally, y/n thought she was the problem, when that was the furthest from the truth. she wasn’t the problem, she was the solution.

she was dragged by the ear to this bonfire. all her friends were there, but belly was the one who truly wanted her to come. she slipped on a nice outfit, and went out anyway. she sipped at another truly and eyed conrad with his beer. he was doing the most simple task, talking and drinking with his friends. y/n swore she saw an angel in front of her, though. his short curl that came in front of his forehead, the shining of his gleaming eyes and smile. there was never a part of conrad, inside and out, that y/n didn’t praise in her mind.

her night was going smoothly, until he arrived. he walked in with a few others hanging off his shoulder, surrounded by his friends. he pushed the girls off and walked over to conrad. “hey, buddy!”

“listen, man-“

“uh-uh, where’s my money?” he asks conrad, making y/n’s face scrunch in confusion as she stands up.

“i already gave you what you asked for.”

“this was your fucking idea, fisher!” conrad stands up, leveling his eyes with the guy in front of him. he notices y/n to the side, looking almost fearful about what the two may be interacting about. “if you don’t want to pay me, that’s fine, just know that it’s now your name she’ll be screaming tonight.”

just then, something flicked on in conrad. his instinct to connect his fist with his face was awoken, carrying out the act. everyone heard the clean punch on the boys jaw, causing him to fall back into his friends arms. they push him to the side, stepping up to conrad, trying to make themselves seem taller. “yeah, let them fight your battles like a pussy. don’t even go near her again.”

conrad walks off the beach, disappearing into the grassy hills on the beach. y/n storms after him, tuning out the calls from her friends or anyone else shouting her name.

“conrad!” she yells.

“y/n, i’m just gonna go home-“

“what was that? and you’re not just walking away because you’ve been off around me for weeks. ever since he stopped seeing me,” she grabs his arm as he tries to turn away, looking at his reddening knuckles. “you’re explaining everything to me.”

she walks with him back to the fishers beach house, summoning away to a bathroom and closing the door. she takes out a first aid kit, and starts caring for his sore hand. “i’m sorry.”

“for what?” y/n asks.

“i never wanted to hurt you, and i need you to know that.”

“conrad,” she sighs. “i know you’d never hurt me. please just tell me what’s going on.”

“he’s not a good guy. at all. he was just using you. i didn’t want to break your heart by telling you so i tried to just let you down easy. so i told him to stay away from you, and he asked for money.”

y/n pauses, looking into his eyes feeling nothing but lost. she didn’t know if she should be pissed at conrad, or at anyone else. he could’ve just said something. she looks away, “oh.”

“no, no,” he says, putting his ok hand on her chin, bringing her eyes back up to meet his. “but i need you to know how much i’m falling for you. i wish i could take every second back that i never told you. but i’ve been falling deeper for you every single day. you can be pissed off or whatever you want but i needed you to know-“

she cuts of his blabbing by placing her lips against his, letting his words be cut off by the kiss. she lets his hand rest on the side of her face as he just moves deeper into the kiss. before anything progresses, she pulls away. “you’re an idiot if you think i haven’t been wanting you this whole time. i just wish you told me instead of bargaining behind my back.”

“you’ll never have to worry about that again. you’re mine now, and i’ll make sure of it.”