#i'm gonna stop tagging character there's too many of them

[give-me-a-minute-to-think]

i went ahead and reuploaded the video i posted a few months ago, since it got marked as 18+ content for some reason. here you go.

[papermonkeyism]

Don't know that one. What's it about? What genre? Is it fun?

[xoxoavenger]

How to Break a Heart

pairing: Luke Castellan x Fem!Aphrodite!Reader

summary: Y/N's mother gives her a deadline on when she needs to break her first love's heart, but Y/N isn't in love. Luckily Luke has a plan to fool the goddess; they'll pretend to be in love, and Y/N can break his heart. But these plans never go accordingly.

word count: 4341

warnings: betrayal, no comfort but there is still fluff for most of it

notes: luke castellan has taken over my life i have like 9 drafts so we'll see how this goes (i'm always scared to post for a new character so any love is appreciated greatly)

part 2

masterlist

"How did it go?" Luke asked as Y/N walked out of the Aphrodite cabin. Her mother had requested an IM with her, and Luke had waited outside for her. Y/N didn't look too happy, but she never did after a talk with her mom.

"She thinks it's time." Y/N said, and as much as he wished he could read her mind, he had no idea what she was talking about.

"For what?" He asks, following as she begins to walk into the woods. It's clear she just needs to be on a walk to be away from everyone else, but she's letting him tag along.

"She said it's an embarrassment that I'd become an adult and still hadn't broken my love's heart." She says. "But I haven't fallen in love with anyone yet, and I don't wanna break some innocent person's heart." She stops talking when they reach the river, sitting on the wet ground. He thinks about his pants real quick and then sits next to her, wanting to give her his support.

"She gave you a time limit?" Luke asks, knowing the answer. The Aphrodite kids didn't usually go on quests, but this was a quest of its own. She knew the gods couldn't resist making things more difficult.

"Yeah. Four months. As if I could fall in love with someone in that time, let alone here." She grabs a rock and throws it into the current, the splash barely touching them.

"Maybe you don't have to." Luke whispered, looking at her. She turned to him, brows furrowed as she rested her head against her bent knees.

"I don't think my mom is gonna let it slide any further than she already has. The truth is, I've been putting this off for years. She's wanted me to break some pour soul's heart for two years now. Every time she's visited me, it's always 'what about that Hephestas boy?' or 'that Apollo kid looks so nice now.' I don't wanna know what she'll do if I disobey." Y/N admits, taking a deep breath.

"That's not what I meant." Luke smirked, causing Y/N to frown.

"What are you talking about, then?" She asks, sitting up and looking at him face on.

"If we pretend that we're in love - I mean, put on a whole show that convinces the whole camp," Luke says it quietly, as if Aphrodite may be listening to them right now.

"Then I can 'break' your heart and please my mom without actually hurting anyone!" She says excitedly, watching as Luke nods. "You're a genius!" She cried, throwing her arms around Luke. She was so happy to have this weight lifted off her shoulders. He held her back, and it felt nice for a moment.

"So, what's the story?" Y/N asked, leaning back and pulling her knees up and leaning on them gently now, instead of hiding behind them.

"We just have to pretend to be dating. I invited you over here to ask you out, so we'll walk back to camp holding hands." He said it so simply, she just nodded.

"What about kissing? Won't they get suspicious?" She asked, making Luke chuckle.

"We can figure that out later." He told her, and she just nodded. "For now, we only have to convince our friends."

"And the olympians." She shrugged.

"Only your mom. The rest of them won't care." Luke told her, standing up. He reached out a hand to help her up, and she took it. He then switched hands to hold her's, interlacing their fingers. Y/N had held hands with many boys, being a daughter of Aphrodite, but for some reason Luke's felt different. She was holding the hand he used to fight with his sword, calloused but somehow smooth. She looked at him, and for a moment she wondered if this would work. It was crazy to lie to a god, even if the goddess was her mother. Could she really pretend to be in love and break his heart? Would they still be friends afterward?

Luke squeezed her hand and smiled, and she felt relief flow through her. If there was anyone who could pull this off, it was Luke.

"We got this." He told her, and she nodded.

They walked to camp, hand in hand, and Y/N knew immediately that this idea would work.

"Oh my God!" Her sister Silena called, immediately seeing Luke and Y/N. "Uh, I knew it!" And Y/N pushed down the urge to roll her eyes. She could have come out of the woods with anyone and Silena would have claimed to have seen it coming.

And just like that, everyone knew they were together.

For about a month, they got away with just hand holding, hanging out a little more than regular, going on a couple night walks. But on one of their night walks, Luke brought up what she had been thinking.

"We have to kick it up. If we want people to think we really fell in love in four months, we have to be inseparable." He told her.

"Silena has already caught on. We have to make it look like we got caught doing something." She had been thinking about it, not wanting to go there, but they both knew there was no way around this. They had to make it believable. Everyone had to believe them for this to work.

"The Hermes cabin." Luke nodded, but Y/N furrowed her brows.

"But your cabin is like, never empty." She told him, concerned.

"Anyone who finds us in the Hermes cabin will tell everyone immediately. And we will get found basically as soon as we're in there." He had definitely thought about this.

"We'll get in trouble." She tells him, looking to the side at the water.

"Us getting in trouble for getting caught in a cabin alone together?" He smirks, squeezing her hand. "Yeah, I'm sure your mom will be really angry." When she turned to him he was smiling, and she couldn't help but smile back.

"You're a genius." She almost kisses him, because that's what she would do in the situation, but then she remembered they're not actually dating. She was almost embarrassed, but then she realized.

"We can't do this without ramping our relationship up a bit." She tells him, and he thinks for a second. He turns to the trees, and the smile is on his face once more.

"The younger kids are watching." He whispered, making her blush. Of course their younger siblings would be watching their romantic walk. "If it's okay with you," He mutters stopping and turning to her. He takes her other hand. "I can kiss your cheek. Or we," She drops is hands and grabs his face, bringing his lips to hers. She knew they'd have to kiss in front of everyone sooner or later, and clearly Luke was freaking out a little bit. She felt his hands go to her torso, high above her waist but just a little below her bra line. It made her heart race just a little bit.

Their lips moved in tandem, much more than any first kiss she's ever had before. She forgot everything as one of her hands slipped from his face to his chest. One of his slipped to her lower back, the other going to the back of her head. They broke for one second to reposition, but for some reason it was too much for her. She curled her fingers into his orange Camp Half-Blood shirt and brought him closer once more. She could feel him smile as he curled his fingers in her hair to position her better.

All too quickly, they separated. Y/N blinked a couple times, trying to clear her brain.

"I think they got the hint." He tells her, and she could only stare at him and try to figure out what he just said.

"Yeah," She whispered, realizing he was talking about their rouse. Of course, the only reason they had kissed was to get the camp talking. "They'll definitely be talking about that."

She didn't want to think about how upset she was, or why she was upset. This was fake - everything with Luke was fake.

"We should head back before Chiron comes and puts us on probation or something." She said, watching him nod. She let him lead her back to her cabin, where he gave her a kiss and a wink outside her door.

She was in trouble.

~

The next day, they met up to watch the kids make friendship bracelets. Luke had already made a deal with Travis, and no one noticed when the two left.

"We have a couple minutes until everyone comes in." He tells her, and she nods. He walks over to his bed, the single one in the corner of the huge cabin. Y/N has never seen it completely empty, and when she looks around it seems too quiet.

"How do you wanna," She mutters, heart pounding. She's nervous, and it's obvious.

"Hey," His voice is quiet, and she looks over at him. "We don't have to do anything that you don't wanna do." His hand goes to her har, pushing her hair out of her face a little bit. She had to force herself not to look away.

"We have to." She mutters, a sad frown on her face. They both knew she didn't have a choice for this.

"But we can just get caught alone." He assures her, sitting back on his bed. Y/N stays where she is.

"No, it has to be more. We have to convince everyone." She is convincing herself too, that she has to do this. She doesn't go on quests, and this isn't even courageous. This is something her siblings do for fun. She can do it for her mother.

"Okay," He tells her, grabbing her hands. She's about to ask how they should be set up, but then there's footsteps on the stairs. Before she can think, she practically pounces on Luke. She's straddling him, pressing him against the bed. Their hands became untangled and his go to her waist, lower than their first kiss. She hears the door open, and her heart freezes.

What are they doing?

Before she can mess up the entire plan, Luke leans up and presses their lips together. She doesn't know what to do with her hands, just letting them hold her up while Luke's venture under her shirt.

"Oh my gods!" Y/N and Luke separate with wide eyes. They were planning on getting caught, but not by her.

"Annabeth?" Luke whispers, turning to see his sister in the doorway, hand over her eyes.

"Shit," Y/N curses, getting up. She realizes her shirt is all scrunched, so she pulls it down.

"What a weird camp." The kid next to Annabeth says. Y/N notices him for the first time, a short kid that looked like he was enjoying this drama. He has to be new, because she's never seen him around and definitely never with Annabeth.

"This is strange." Ananbeth crosses her arms and squints. Y/N feels like she can see right through them.

"Oh, Chiron is not gonna be happy." The kid says, smiling. Before Y/N can argue that neither of them would tell the centaur, he walks up behind them.

"That assumption would be correct, Mr. Jackson." She has to remind herself that this was the plan, that they wanted to get caught.

"Chiron," Y/N says, looking up at him as he walks into the wide door frame. Annabeth and the kid move to let him in, also showing Y/N and Luke the amount of people behind him, waiting to see the

"This is unexpected from you two." He says, and Y/N can feel herself second guessing this plan. She doesn't like to be scolded by Chiron. Luke grabs her hand as if he knew what she was thinking.

"We're sorry, Chiron." Luke started, taking a deep breath.

"But we're not kids anymore," Y/N starts, the confidence coming from no where. "And sometimes we need time on our own." She can feel everyone's eyes on her, including Luke's.

"We can talk about this in the Big House." Chiron was clearly peeved, but she knew he couldn't get that mad. Everyone knew why Luke and Y/N stayed even though they were the oldest campers; they would be dead in the real world.

"You're up to something." Annabeth says as everyone leaves.

"I'm always up to something." Luke smirks before looking at the new kid. "I'm Luke."

"I'm Percy." The kid says, looking over at Y/N.

"Y/N." She nods, a small smile on her face. She looked at Annabeth, who knew something was up. She had to ramp it up.

She put a hand on Luke's shoulder and kissed his cheek, squeezing his hand and leaving. It had to be enough for now.

~

As it turned out, Annabeth went on a quest a couple weeks later, so they didn't need to worry about convincing her. But Luke was practically sick with worry for her wellbeing, and Y/N wasn't much better. Her deadline was coming up, and she was actually dreading it.

She was enjoying Luke's presence, enjoying the touches and the attention. She knew it was her mother's powers making her feel this way, but part of it was just her. She actually looked forward to waking up and going to see Luke. She thought about the night that they had fallen asleep in the warm sand, his chest cushioning her head. His arms were around her, and when they were caught in the morning she didn't even care about Chiron's second warning. Luke had snuck them desert anyway.

It helped calm her down from worrying about the kids on a quest, the fate of which would in turn decide the fate of Camp Half-Blood. She hated the feeling of war in the air, the campers fighting. Luke's comfort helped that situation as well. He would always grab her close, making her anxiety calm down and her mind quiet. She had taken to hanging out with him away from everyone's eyes, aside from plans to get caught. They would lay in the strawberry fields, looking at the clouds. Sometimes she would fall asleep, giving away the fact that she couldn't sleep in her own bed at night. As soon as Luke realized this, he made the Aphrodite cabin swear to secrecy when he would sneak in. They were great at keeping secrets when it helped their sister's love life, and her health. She had gotten so used to Luke sleeping in her bed, it was weird to think there was a time when he wasn't.

The first time it happened, she had almost jumped out of her skin.

It was right before the kids left, when everyone started to get uneasy about the Lightning Bolt. She had made a random comment that day when her and Luke were sitting on the dock, because she was too tried from her lack of sleep. They had been 'dating' for two months now, and even before she would tell him these things as his best friend. She had almost fallen asleep with her head resting against his shoulder, and he had shaken her awake. She stumbled to her cabin, not even wanting to tell her siblings about the night, but she couldn't sleep.

Everyone knew she had problems sleeping, so they tried to be as quiet as possible. They let her keep her window open, even though it dried their skin. And though her body was absolutely begging her to sleep, her mind wouldn't turn off.

She jumped out of her skin when she heard Luke's low voice.

"Thank the gods your window is already open." She shot up, heart racing. She looked over to see Luke climbing in. "And also thank the gods you live on the bottom bunk." His voice was so quiet she could barely hear, but at least she knew her siblings wouldn't hear. She knew they would never tell Chiron, since they loved a good relationship.

"What are you doing?" She asked, eyes wide and a smile playing on her face. His scar shown in the moonlight as he sat on the windowsill, taking off his shoes. He handed them to her, and she put them down gently on the ground before lowering himself down on her bed.

"I'm gonna help you sleep." He told her, looking at her in a way that made her heart race just a little. Even in the little privacy, where no one could see them, he was caring for her.

"You don't have to." She turned her head down, feeling self conscious in her bonnet. He smiled at her.

"I want to."

The two settled in, Y/N lifting up the covers for Luke to come under. They switched positions so she could sleep next to the wall, his arms around her immediately. She felt so secure and safe in his arms, more relaxed than she had felt in weeks. He settled his face against her head, giving the softest kiss to her forehead. So soft she was questioning it as her mind drifted away.

When she woke up, she was in his arms. The sun was up, and it was much later than she had woken up in the past month.

"Tell him I went on a walk. And she's sick." Luke was whispering, his voice rumbling in his chest that Y/N was laying against. Given the small size of the bed, they were entangled. Her legs were fused with his, her torso stuck between the wall and Luke's body. Her hand was entangled into his sleep shirt, and she didn't untangle it because that would have given up that she was awake. And she wanted to stay like this a little longer.

And she was enjoying the warm light and the nice morning.

"You know he'll come in here anyway." A boy was saying, but Y/N didn't want to listen. Without thinking, she rubbed her face into Luke's shirt, trying to get more comfortable. She rubbed a leg against his, shifting and sighing.

"If you wake her up," Luke's voice sounded venomous, and it made her start to smile a little. Her head felt so light but also so heavy in a good way. She didn't think she could feel that way.

"Fine, I'm gone." The guy said, and Y/N heard his footsteps walk away. She stretched for a second, settling down so that her leg was thrown over his and she was more on top of him than against the wall. Her hand relaxed, still holding onto his shirt but not as tightly.

"You awake?" Luke whispered so quietly for a moment he didn't think she heard him.

"No." She said quietly, feeling her breathing even out.

"Alright." He brushes his hand against her back, soothing her even more. "Let me know when you're awake."

~

All the Aphrodite kids were working overtime to make sure that Chiron never found out that Luke was sneaking into the cabin and also to keep the Hermes cabin from snitching. And also from keeping the harpies from killing Luke. 

It was a full-time job. 

They usually slept in Y/N's bunk, because her siblings just wanted her to be happy. They all knew that she was supposed to break someone's heart, but they tried not to talk about it. No one else knew about the deadline. 

"Can you tell me how you got your scar?" Y/N asked one night, tracing the mark as they laid in bed. She had been getting so much sleep with him that she was able to stay up a little bit with him now and whisper low enough that no one else could hear.

"You don't wanna hear about it before it before you go to bed." He whispers, eyes going dark and hand grabbing hers, stopping her from touching it. Her heart drops, and she feels like a little kid scolded. 

"You never told me." She mutters, not wanting to push but wanting to know. They'd gotten so close now that she wanted to know everything about him before she no longer had an excuse to be around him all the time. 

Oh gods, how was she going to sleep without him? 

"You're already overthinking." He whispers, and she just huffs and tries her hardest to turn from him while his arms are around her and she's also stuck between him and the wall. For a moment she thought about throwing herself over him and getting up, just to prove a point, but she knew that was taking things a little too far. 

"I just wanted to be there for you like you are for me." She knew that didn't have nightmares like most demigods did; at least, if he got them, he hadn't had any since he'd been with her. But she also knew no one could deal with everything on their own, and if he wasn't telling her, who else was he telling? 

"I'm okay." He tells her, settling in and making her start to get comfortable again. She stretched, leaned against him and let her eyes close, trying to forget about his scar. 

Something about the conversation rubbed her the wrong way. 

~

The kids returned and the war was avoided, and now Annabeth seemed to have her own relationship problems. It made Y/N relieved, then sad, because she remembered that her own relationship was fake. In a few short weeks, she would have to 'break' Luke's heart. But that was in the future, and she could put it off as long as she could. She didn't want to have to break his heart, because she had a feeling it would only break her's.

Everything had been going great until her mother showed up.

This time, it hadn't been an IM. This time, her mother was waiting for her in the strawberry fields where she was supposed to meet with Luke.

"Mom?" Y/N asked, not sure if she was seeing correctly. Her mother's beautiful face brightened, and Y/N just blinked. She had never met her mother in person.

"My favorite child." Her mother said, making Y/N's eyes widen. She thought Silena was her favorite child. "I am so proud of you."

"What?" Y/N had been planning on talking to Luke about their breakup tonight, but her mother thew her off.

"You've broken the most talented swordsman's heart! The pain, oh, it almost breaks my own heart." Aphrodite put her hands over her own heart, and Y/N just furrowed her eyebrows.

"But, I haven't broken Luke's heart yet." Y/N says, thinking about how weird Luke had been acting when he asked to meet her there. She thought it was about them breaking up, but what if it was something else. Could he tell that she had fallen?

"No?" Her mother looked genuinely confused. "I sense such distress, such a hole of love in his heart." Y/N had never seen a god confused, and she didn't like this.

"Something's wrong." Y/N muttered, flinching when fireworks began to be set off.

"Yes," Her mother said gravely, grabbing her daughter's hand. "I will help you find him and set this right." She said it as if Y/N was supposed to break his heart over the pain he must've been feeling. Before she could protest, her mother was teleporting her. She ended up in front of Luke in the forest, her mother no where to be found. Luke looked angry, his sword was pointing right at her. It was actually pressing lightly into her chest, which made no sense. Luke would never do that.

"Y/N?" He asked, eyes widening. The anger melted away a little bit, but he still didn't look like the version of him she knew.

"What are you doing?" She asked, watching him lower his sword but not his guard. His eyes caught on something behind her, and she turned.

Percy was standing there, eyes wide and scared. He had his own sword in his hand, arms lifted in defense.

"Get out of the way, Y/N." Percy said, sounding older than his twelve years. It scared her, seeing this kid forced to mature.

"What are you doing?" She repeated, turning back to Luke. His expression had hardened slightly, but it still wasn't as angry as he had been when she first showed up.

"You don't want any part of this." Luke's voice was deep and dark, and Y/N felt her heart drop to her stomach.

"What have you done?" She rephrased, eyes wide as the fear sprinkled through her body in cold waves.

"What I had to." Luke said, as if that explained everything. "The gods are against us. They need us, but they don't care about us. I mean, have you ever even spoke with your mom is person?" He was trying to use her, and it hurt her feelings.

"I just did." She said quietly, turning fully to Luke. "And she told me you were heartbroken." She reveled at the shock that washed over his face.

"She must have been feeling someone else." Luke answered, and Y/N just shook her head.

"Luke, please." She walked toward him, grabbing his free hand. "We had something. We were pretending to date but you can't tell me you were acting the whole time." She felt tears in her eyes now. "Luke, I love you." She whispered finally. Filling the silence was the wind in the trees, the distant sound of fireworks. But not Luke's voice. He stayed quiet for a moment.

"It'll pass." He tells her quietly, tilting his head.

He might as well have stabbed her, the words hurt so bad. Using her shock, he threw his sword up, and not even letting go of her hand he caught it the opposite way, using the bottom to hit her head and send her to the ground.

"Goodbye," He muttered as he let her hand slip from his, stepping over her to face Percy.

Y/N could hear the breaking of her heart as she let her eyes close. 

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Shh!

Summary: Y/N and Dean have been overserved...what truths may come from it? Shh! Don't tell.

Pairing/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warnings: None. All fluffy silliness. Little bit of crack. Drunk!Dean and Drunk!Reader. Some mutual pining (sort of).

Word Count: 1,379

A/N: Okay, so I'm trying really hard to catch up with my requests. Thank you all for your patience. This fun request came from a lovely anon:

omgomgomg can you please do the giggly smut space with a drunk!dean and reader?? i love your work sm!

This bingo square was already filled, but I said I'd try to write something fun for them anyway. So, I had lots of fun with the silly antics of these goofballs, hope you enjoy. ❤️

Edit: This little one shot has turned into a two part mini-series.

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag List

“Shh!” Y/N hissed with her finger to her lips as she and Dean stumbled drunkenly through the bunker door. She tried to frown at her best friend and meant to scold him for his noisiness, but he was making a goofy face as he pretended to be tiptoeing towards the stairs and she just ended up giggling loudly.

“Shh!” Dean scolded her. 

“Me shush? You shush!” She said, laughing as she followed him down the stairs. As they neared the bottom, Y/N lost her footing in the grating on the steps and pitched forward. Dean turned to try and steady her, but it was too late and she knocked them both to the ground. 

Dean landed on his back and Y/N landed directly on top of him.

“Oof!” Dean grunted as his fall and Y/N's weight knocked the wind out of him. 

“Oh my god! Dean, I'm so sorry!” Y/N felt terrible, but her drunken mind couldn't stop laughing at the way they'd plummeted to the floor.

When he could breathe again Dean groaned and started laughing too.

“Shh!” He cautioned as he rolled Y/N beneath him. “You're gonna wake up Sam.” He said in a voice that he thought was a whisper. It wasn't.

Y/N nodded and then caught Dean's eye as her giggling subsided. For a moment their gazes connected as their laughter died away slowly, so that they were left pressed close together and staring at each other.

“You know, you're so pretty.” Dean said, his words slightly slurred. “I don't think you know that, you don't know that I think that. You are.”

Y/N shook her head. “No, YOU don't know. I told you so many times, Dean. I told you that time when there was the baseball bat, and then too, where when we were at the drive-in, and…” Y/N frowned and then shook her head. “I told you all of those times. And then more.”

Dean was nodding along with her words as though he knew what she was talking about but then he burst into laughter and Y/N joined him.

“What were we talking about?” He asked as he stood up and pulled Y/N to her feet. They leaned on each other for balance. 

Y/N shook her head. “I don't actually know.” She cackled, and then shushed herself. Dean joined her. 

“Shh!”

“Shh!” 

They were both holding a finger to their lips and giggling like idiots as Sam walked into the war room from the direction of his bedroom. 

“Shhh-ut up. Both of you.” He said, barefooted and scowling. He was wearing pajama bottoms and a dark blue t-shirt and had obviously been sleeping. 

He was also obviously very annoyed. He ran a tired hand over his cheeks. “It's three in the morning, you two. What the hell are you doing coming home at this hour?”

Y/N snorted and then covered her mouth. “Sorry!” She said when Sam's frown landed on her. “You just…my mom said that when I was like fifteen. You sounded like her, for a second.”

“It's the long hair.” Dean said in a stage whisper, making Sam roll his eyes and Y/N nearly fall over laughing. 

“Was your mom a really tall lady?” Dean asked as both of them fell onto each other again, and landed on their asses on the floor - the extreme hilarity taking them both out. 

“Oh, Jesus.” Sam said in sleepy irritation. “I'm going back to bed. Can you both shut up and just pass out on the floor?”

“Aye aye, Captain!” Dean called with salute and Y/N followed suit.

“Drunken idiots.” Sam mumbled lovingly as he padded back down the hallway to his bedroom.

Eventually Dean and Y/N stood each other up and then wandered down the other hallway towards Dean's room. When they got there, Y/N's eyes lit up when she saw Dean's vinyl collection.

“We have to play some Black Sabbath.”

She fumbled pulling the record out of its sleeve and almost dropped it. 

“Hey! Careful!” Dean protested as he took the precious vinyl out of her hands. 

In the end though, it took both of them to get the record on the turntable properly, and then all of their combined coordination to successfully put the needle down without scratching it. But soon Paranoid was blasting through Dean's room, and down the hallways to Sam's as well, where the youngest Winchester growled and slammed his pillow down tight over his ears.

As the song continued, Y/N grabbed Dean's hands and got him to share in a little drunken headbanging along with the wailing guitars, pounding drums and Ozzy’s slightly monotone voice. Eventually though, he let go so he could crash onto his bed. 

Y/N kept dancing, offbeat and slightly awkward. Dean watched her and smiled deeply.

“This is the other time!” He called over the music.

Y/N shook her head and turned down the volume a little. “What?”

“This is the other time.” Dean repeated.

“The other time of what?” Y/N asked, scrunching up her nose and furrowing her brow in that adorable way she had.

“The other time when you're so pretty and I'm telling you, but you're not listening.” Dean sighed, suddenly sad.

Y/N stumbled over to the bed and climbed up beside him. “Why’re you…what's wrong?” 

Dean shook his head. “No, you never listen to me when I'm trying to tell you. You don't get it.” His mouth dipped into a pout and Y/N was instantly contrite.

“Oh, I wanna listen to you. I do listen. You don't listen.”

Dean stared at her for a moment and then nodded resolutely. “We should write it down. Our things, our listening things. So we don't forget. Then we have to listen to both of ourselves.” Dean's eyes were wide, amazed by his incredible idea. 

Y/N nodded and wobbled over for pens and paper from his desk. She brought them back and slumped onto the bed, passing out the writing materials and grabbing two hardcover books from the bedside table. 

“For writing on.” She explained as she handed Dean a book.

“M’kay. Do you wanna go first?” Dean asked. ��Cause…ladies? Y’know?”

But Y/N shook her head. “We could both go though.” She pointed at their separate pieces of paper. 

“Oh right!” Dean said as though finally figuring out her ever-so-complicated plan.

Then they both bent their heads to their task, but after only a few minutes, their pens stilled and their heads drooped towards each other and then banged together gently as they both fell into drunken oblivion.

Twenty minutes later Sam barged into Dean's room no longer able to take the screaming Black Sabbath. He immediately noticed that both of his drunken idiots were sound asleep and snoring, and he sighed, giving his head a shake. 

He took the needle off the record and shut off the record player before he walked quietly up to the bed and rolled his eyes indulgently as he saw Y/N with her head on Dean's shoulder and Dean with his head laying on top of her head.

They’re both gonna have such stuff necks in the morning. He thought.

He picked up the papers and books from their laps. He was about to throw the pages away but then he read them. His smile grew wider and wider as he read what they'd each written. 

Neither had actually finished, but they were both saying the same thing:

“Finally.” Sam whispered with an affectionate eye roll. “Friggin’ idiots.”

He took the papers and walked to the kitchen. Grabbing two strong magnets he posted the letters in plain sight where they couldn't be missed, even by two fools with raging hangovers, before he shut off the lights and went back to bed.

__

Part 2

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @alwaystiredandconfused @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

[jhoneybees]

Special gift

Hello Hello! I'm back dollies :) Here's a cute little fic! It's been a while since I've posted a fic so I do apologise😬 and with the desire part 2 I am writing it! but I'm gonna be shelving that for a bit because I'm not in that thirsty mood at the moment lol I've been craving some sweet fluffy Elvis! Enjoy!

Tags: @elvisalltheway101 my doll!

Characters: Highschool 50s!Elvis X reader

Warnings/triggers: I'd say nothing but if you spot something, please comment!

_____________________________________________

Gosh. His eyes, the waves of deep blue rippling into that icy blue around those dark pupils, increasing and decreasing in size. You really could get lost in them, you have to be careful though, you wouldn't want to fall in love…would you?

Well for your case, yes. You're in love, you're madly in love with a pretty boy. With how he skillfully combs back his hair into a duck tail and how his bottom lip juts out just a bit when he's deep in concentration, you're just melting at just the thought of him, of Elvis Presley.

He's everything you're looking for in a man, a future husband you hope and dream. He’s kind, caring, funny, generous, courteous, and humble. It goes on and on and on and you wouldn’t be panting by the endless list at all because you'll be too busy listing off every praise in the universe. Your mind is just filled with everything Elvis, in every single nook and cranny.

_____________________________________________

Closing the locker door with a tinny slam, your eyes drift to the boy of your dreams. Just standing there with nobody accompanying him, you take the chance to admire him, admiring how his ever growing chest hairs peek out from behind his white short sleeved button up, his lean biceps fill out those sleeves so nicely and his simple black slacks just had to make you hitch a breath, they compliment his long legs so well.

You really do dream of approaching Elvis someday, to finally confess your love that you've been bottling up ever since the first day you saw him but you're shy, so shy that you'd be a shaking leaf just asking a teacher for directions to the art classroom and not only that, you're scared of rejection, you know everyone else is too but it still doesn't change your mind to have the courage to walk up to Elvis Presley and blurt out the three words.

As you sigh and grip your books closer to your chest in longing, his eyes pierce into yours. You didn't know he could stop time because the brief moment of the both of you staring feels like the bustling crowds around you just freeze.

Trying to take an even deep breath, you swallow thickly as he strides towards you. Your wrists ache at the growing pressure against the edges of the books but you don't care because all you're thinking is if your knees are about to collapse at the blessing of seeing Elvis' shy but also charming grin.

“You're Y/n, right?” he asks.

You nod quietly and he breathes out a shy chuckle, stuffing his hand into his pocket, he nods back and you're guessing, out of nervous habit, he scratches the back of his neck.

“I-I’m Elvis…and uh- This m-m-might sound crazy but uh- I've seen you around these places and thought you're real pretty” he states.

He thought you're pretty? No. Real pretty? Oh your dreams must be having a real good time, you can't bring yourself to believe that, he couldn't possibly think that, he's got so many other girls who are far prettier than you that he could choose from, right?

“And uh- ah can't keep my head f’om shuttin’ up to ask ya if ya..uh.. w-w-wanted to go on a date with me?” his eyebrows raise just the slightest bit.

A date?! You? He’s asking you on a date? You swear, you're hearing wedding bells in your head and not the ones from the church a few blocks down that you'd willingly get married in if he asked you to or you're preferred choice, wanted to.

This can't be real, right?

“Y-you don't gotta say yes if ya don't wanna but just thought ah’d better take someone like you out before I regret myself”

He stammers with his head lowering towards his chest and rubbing the back of his neck with a small crooked smile.

Your overly religious parents would scold you for using his name in vain but…

Oh God

Gulping again for- you think, the 20th time. You clutch your books even tighter than before, fully aware that it would definitely leave red marks on your skin. Trying your best to not appear overly shy, you grip at that ounce of courage and give Elvis a small smile.

You've been dreaming of this.

“I-I’d love to”

_____________________________________________

Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, OH. MY. GOSH.

You're going on a date with Elvis Presley…

You're going on a date with Elvis Presley!

As you close your bedroom door and plop your books down on your desk, you gasp softly in your hands in absolute shock. How did you land on such luck? Or whatever it is. Turning yourself around, you sit at the end of bed and dig your face deeper into your hands.

Trying to process your thoughts but of course, all you could ‘process’ is the image of Elvis, the guy that walked up to you. The boy who asked you on a date!

“Ah!!” You squeal, slamming yourself back on the bed, kicking your feet in the air with so much excitement.

Your hands dragging down your face don't do anything to your big smile, you're just amazed, in awe, so in love.

Then a thought comes into your head. What are you gonna give to Elvis as a token of appreciation?

Others might not think of anything like that but to you, it feels necessary. Elvis is taking time out of his day to take you out so why wouldn't you give him something for such a kind gesture?

_____________________________________________

“Thank you…”

You smile as Elvis helps you out of the car, your small hands held by his large ones, you feel calluses on his fingertips from what you know and saw, playing his guitar during lunch breaks and occasionally at the local park on weekends. Their firmness slightly nudges at the back of your hand, the warmth just engulfing your hand cosily. You couldn't be more satisfied at just the slightest touch from him.

Then as he leads you down the wide dirt and grassy track, you grip your knuckles together.

He didn't tell you where you were both going in Riverside Park for this date and as much as you adore and love Elvis, you're a little concerned but as you two near the riverbank and Elvis turns to you with a sweet boyish smile on his face. Your concerns wash away instantly.

“M’sorry this date ain't shiny and lavish…” he chuckles nervously.

“No, this is lovely, Elvis” you say softly, returning a smile.

You wouldn’t have this date any other way, it’s everything you’ve been dreaming of. Getting to sit beside the river with him, being in each other’s company, it’s perfect to you.

You have seen him with other girls at school before and when you saw how much of a gentleman he was to them just makes your heart stab itself with an arrow and you thought you know every kind gesture he does but he’s full of surprises because when he started taking off his jacket and laying it down on the grass, he had the audacity to melt your heart for the 100th time in the span of just 2 weeks.

“Don’t wanna get your pretty skirt dirty”

Of course with that little grin that you have memorised every detail from.

He is just…everything.

The conversation just flows so effortlessly and after some time it begins to fizzle out and you both sit in pleasant silence, you look out at the slow moving, crisp water and when you don’t expect it you both breathe in the fresh air at the same time. Whipping your heads around and bursting into a fit of giggles.

You want to spend your life with him.

Your mind runs with thoughts of how lovely this simple date is and when you turn to look at Elvis’ face, you accidentally let out a tiny gasp which you hope Elvis didn’t hear but of course he did. Turning to look at you with a slow growing smile and piercing blue eyes that ping through into your heart. You wouldn’t be surprised if he started laughing at your poor little heart thumping a thousand miles per hour.

Panting so much that its cheeks would flush a brighter red than it already is.

“Enjoyin’ yer time?” he asks with raised eyebrows, creating those cute little wrinkles on his forehead.

You nod with a small smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice how your cheeks grow a bit pink, almost like the same colour as his socks that are slightly exposed under his brown slacks.

He looks back at the water and you do the same. After a little while, you remember the thing you made for him. Quietly moving your arm, you dig in your skirt pocket and pull out a beaded bracelet with a colour scheme that you hope Elvis would like. Baby blue and gold. Finishing off with a white bead in the middle with a little gold encrusted heart on it.

“Um..Elvis?”

Your heart sighs at how he softly hums in response, turning to look at you with slow wandering eyes.

“Yeah?”

Holding in your breath, you close your eyes for a brief moment. You really do hope he’ll like it, you did work very hard on this little bracelet but if you had to be honest, you wouldn’t complain if he just throws it into the water and yells at you because it’s not much, It’s really not much compared to him using the fuel in his daddy’s car to drive you here and take time out of his precious day but you still like to hope.

Holding the small token in your hands, you lower your chin towards your chest. Gulping nervously at the non existent saliva in your desert-dry mouth.

“I-It’s not much but uh… I made you this a-as a thank you gift for- bringing me here a-and taking time o-out of your day- uhmp-” you stutter and with a bit of bravery and courage, you thrust your hands out more towards his chest.

Your heart almost jumps at the unexpected chuckle and your hands begin to tremble as you feel his fingertips brush your palm, picking up the homemade gift with a crooked grin on his handsome face. Your hands fall onto your lap, your brain shivering in delight. He’s so delicate and gentle at how he’s holding the bracelet and you just melt at how he takes the time to admire every single little bead that you know damn well costed you $1.50 for a small pack and the small gold encrusted heart being your only special bead that you didn’t want to use for anything that isn’t special, yes it’s not actual gold but you just thought a while ago that there could be a possible chance of a real special moment that this little bead would fit perfectly in which this moment is just that.

“Aw Y/n…that’s real sweet of ya, thank you” he drawls, still looking at the bracelet in hand. Shaking his head with a bigger grin, you quietly watch as he shimmies his hand through the bracelet, starting to doubt if it’s even going to fit, but it snaps in place and moulds around his wrist perfectly and as he looks up at you, you swear you felt your nerves in your body shut down for a split second.

Then your breath hitches as his hand softly and gently picks up your hand. This can’t be happening. Watching his hand lift yours up to his lips, his baby blues peering up at you, he places a delicate kiss on the back.

“...I love you”

[linskywords]

Hockey RPF Recs from 2023

I realized recently that I haven't done a great job keeping up with hockey fic beyond the authors I was already subscribed to, so I did some reading in the tag for the past year (and of course fell in a hole and neglected other parts of my life, you know the drill). Mattdrai is even bigger than I thought?? (She said, having been living under a rock.) Also, wow, *amazing* writers out there I had no idea about! Here are my favorites of the stories I've read so far:

so is the longing by dogjuice (mattdrai): This one might win as my favorite fic of the year. You know how sometimes you read something that's not quite as well written as you want it to be but it's doing the thing you want so you read it anyway? This is NOT that fic. It hits such good juicy trope buttons and also is clever and hilariously written. Top marks.

i'll tell you when to stop by dogjuice (mcmattdrai): Sadly this is the only other fic dogjuice has posted, but it is also excellent. The premise could be ridiculous in someone else's hands but rings so true. I was on tenterhooks for it all to work out.

In From the Cold by makeit_takeit (TK/Patty): FERAL. OVER. THIS. All three stories in this (loosely related) series are impeccable, but this one gave me the most feels. I am weak for a repressed closeted character gradually discovering happiness, and the depth of characterization is breathtaking.

Baby, I'm a Wildcard by wearemany (mattdrai): The writing!! This fic is mostly developing/established relationship, which is not usually my fave, but somehow I loved the entire thing?? Just really compelling character-focused writing that had me completely absorbed without needing to rely on angst or drama (much as I love those in other stories).

Edmonton 10 by Helenish (mattdrai): Helenish is incomparable. I cannot express how happy I am that they've (she's?) gotten into hockey lately. Read everything; I don't even know if this is the best one because I *am* subscribed to them so I read the stories as they came out and didn't rank them or anything, but this one is excellent and also you can't go wrong.

this must be the place by rafting (Jamie/Trevor): Love me some sexuality exploration. The USNTDP ensemble was so vividly and delightfully present in this one. Also, Trevor is so dumb. How can you not love it.

let me look at you by isozyme (mattdrai, mcmattdrai): This one is emotionally ROUGH but so well done. Heed the warnings, but there's plenty of emotional satisfaction as well. I read it several weeks ago and it's still living in my head.

roughed up in the afterglow by notthequiettype (mattdrai): This one is pretty short but gets a lot done in not too many words. Really excellent character interactions and dialogue.

linger by bropunzeling (mattdrai): Top-notch A/B/O content. Sometimes you just want Matthew to have heat sex with Leon and pretend not to have feelings until he can't anymore.

in the honey by donderwalk (Jamie/Trevor): Okay it's been a while since I read this one but I remember it as the highlight of my Jamie/Trevor tag search at the time, so I'm gonna say it's probably great. 😄

Serenity in Those Deep Waters by angry_geno_is_score (larsdunn): This mashes the D/s buttons sooooo good. Has it inspired me to write more D/s? Oh yes. Check it out; You Will Have Feels.

how lovely are thy branches by quadratics (mattdrai, Brady/Tim): Hilarious premise, charming execution. This isn't even about characters getting together and yet I loved it.

Hourglass Theory by puckedup (mattdrai): So short, and totally managed to punch me in the chest (in the best way).

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  Pricklywhicket/@messessentialist ! Prickleywhicket has four fics published to AO3 -- All in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by pricklywhicket:

so let's sneak in from the cheap seats, honey

it's supposed to be fun (turning twenty-one)

start by pulling him out of the fire

"Sadie is so super talented in the way she describes literally everything. She is so good at writing and it's a shame that she's flown under the radar because she's not the quickest at putting things out there." -- Anonymous

Below the cut, Pricklywhicket answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Why do any of us write anything? Because we want the story to exist in the world, and it doesn’t yet, so we gotta hike up our pants and do it ourselves!

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Hurt/Comfort. I’m always a sucker for the blorbos taking care of one another, in whatever form that takes. This has always been true, across a truly astronomical number of fandoms I’ve found myself dabbling in over the years.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

…actually, probably hurt/comfort! I just need to get those little dudes some validation and unconditional positive regard, okay?

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I’m sure I won’t be the first one to say this, but: I HAVE TO PICK ONE????? Okay, alright. I can do this. I’m gonna say…Sanctuary by SpicedSage.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’ve only written canon or canon-adjacent fic so far, so I’m eager to work on something that’s completely AU. I think there’s a unique challenge to keeping characters recognizable as themselves in a world that might not have all the same contexts that made them into that person.

What is your writing process like?

I would love to say it’s super organized and well-planned, but the truth is it’s mostly about routine and responsibility. I set aside time to do it every day, even if I can only tap out a few sentences. I’m not very strict about writing in a straight line - I can stop a scene if it’s giving me trouble, write a note about what I think happens in some [brackets], and move on to something that I have more fully fleshed-out ideas for. Sometimes writing the next scene helps you know more about what needs to happen in the current one. 

Do you have any writing quirks?

I'm sure my betas would say yes 🙃 I tend to write a lot of dialogue - a lot of my revision process is going back through and realizing I have two pages of a conversation with no indication of what’s physically happening in the world around the speakers.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Definitely when I’m finished. Prior to my ‘23 bang fic, I had never written anything chaptered. I knew going in that I could NOT start posting if it wasn’t finished, because I’ve been burned too many times by abandoned works. I didn’t want to do that to people reading my fic, and the best way to avoid it is to finish before you post.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Easily start by pulling him out of the fire. The biggest, most ambitious thing I’ve ever attempted - I still kind of can’t believe I wrote 85k.

How did you get the idea for start by pulling him out of the fire?

Like most terrible ideas, it was spawned in a fandom discord chat. We were discussing the tendency of Steddie fics to centralize the party at Steve’s house, because his parents are never there anyway. And then someone mentioned what if the parents came home and found their house occupied, and someone else mentioned Wayne being there, and it just sort of…spiraled out from there.

When writing start by pulling him out of the fire, what was something you didn’t expect?

I had no idea, going in, that I was going to write a comprehensive history of the Wayne and Eddie Munson relationship. I started writing it where I did to give some background on Wayne’s existing distaste for the elder Harrington, and then I just…kept writing. Over the course of a month or two I wrote 20k of WayneAndEddie that I had no idea was in me - it just kept coming.

What inspired it's supposed to be fun (turning twenty-one)?

@wynnyfryd. It was a gift for her birthday. We were talking about our mutual love of Letterkenny, and she mentioned that the episode was her favorite and wouldn’t it be funny if someone wrote… and the rest is history.

What was your favorite part to write from it's supposed to be fun (turning twenty-one)?

I had an unreasonable amount of fun with that one in general. But I think my favorite part was Eddie polling the party about what Steve means to them all. It was fun to sort of put myself in each character’s shoes and think about how they would answer. Plus y’know, any excuse to unironically love on Steve Harrington.

How do/did you feel writing so let's sneak in from the cheap seats, honey?

I believe my exact words upon deciding to write it were “jingles miserably to a blank google doc.” This was a classic case of saying “god I wish there was a fic where—” and having friends tell me that it was now my responsibility to write it. I’m glad I did, though. I love that story, and it proved to me that I could write sex and publish it and not burst into flames. I also just really, really love summer storms. And Wayne’s use of the singular ‘herpe.’

What was the most difficult part of writing so let's sneak in from the cheap seats honey?

Getting over the fear of publishing something E-rated. It was just something I hadn’t done, and I had a lot of anxiety that people were not going to respond well to it. I made three people individually review the sex scenes before I even asked anyone to beta the full fic. Of course I was worried for nothing, the reception for that fic was super lovely and gave me the confidence boost I needed to attempt start by pulling him out of the fire!

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

This is like asking me to pick a favorite child. I’ll say this: most of my favorite lines in start by pulling him out of the fire were taken directly from conversations @wormdebut and I had about the fic. She’s my number one cheerleader and sounding board, and sometimes she’s so goddamn funny that I just have to include it. You have her to thank, for instance, for Steve quite literally dropping his croissant when he first sees Eddie in glasses.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I have a couple of irons in the fire, but nothing I’m ready to share just yet! I’ve been taking a breather from writing (blame baldur’s gate 3, okay) but my WIPs are still very much IP. Stay tuned!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Not that I can think of!

Thank you to our author, Pricklywhicket, and our anonymous nominator! See more of pricklywhicket's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[mono-dot-jpeg]

stop playing league - k. kenma

summary; a callout to me and my fellow league players. (not league enjoyers. players.)

genre/extra tags; one shot(?)/drabble, fluff, comedy, slight crack, kenma (kind of) slanders riot games and you, relationship unestablished and unmentioned, if you know the games cool (i hate valorant), self indulgent

[can be interpreted as romantic or platonic] [gender never mentioned] [i make many references to different games and use game terms, sorry]

word count; 489

a/n; no one except for league players can make fun of league in this post now, i make the rules and enforce them. (/hj) you ever think abt the difference between making fun of your favorite things and someone else doing it? yeah it's like that basically. i genuinely like the characters league has to offer, but people always think i like the game. (i play it but i usually end up hating most sessions)

"don't you dare hit that button."

your cursor hovers over the fated "find match" button. the button that has been torturing you for at least a few hours now. your dying urge to play "one more game" has you in a chokehold when you just want to win once.

"kenma..." you whine. the pudding head is playing a much more chill game compared to yours, which was slime rancher. it was a little bit nerve-wracking with how easily he almost slipped off ledges, deal with the occasional tarr slime, or the adorably angry slimes in certain paths. but nonetheless, it's a much healthier game to play than league. "it's not like i can even play slime rancher with you, it's not multi-player. just let me have this. i'm gonna win this time. surely. i'll switch to val after this, promise."

"you still won't be playing with me because i don't play valorant." you can imagine his cat-like glare staring at you through the screen. "and you rarely play tft and legends of runeterra."

"it gets me dizzy, alright?! and also you should know how painful it is to get those annoying people who hold my three stars from me!" you pause when he mentions the card game, "the card game isn't that bad. just not my favorite. what about overwatch?"

"isn't the new hog rework annoying?"

"that's... it's something. what about plate up?"

"you're gonna rage."

"stardew?"

"you're too lazy to update your mods."

"shut the fuck up, actually." you hissed at him as he huffs out a laugh. "i'm waiting for the next update. i think everyone is at this point."

"literally play anything but league for fucks sake, y/n."

"but cute neeko skin.." you pretend to cry, "i just want to play my sillies. maybe even win a game, dare i say." you angrily wave your mouse over your screen. kenma watches your screen share, unamused.

"you spent money on that skin."

"WRONG, I SPENT MONEY ON ONE OVERWATCH SKIN AND TWO BATTLEPASSES."

"still spent money."

"that's a lot of backtalk coming from you. you buy skins and dlc too. you're not clean either." despite kenma trying to prolong the inevitable, you click "find match" and sit back and wait as kenma groans in annoyance. "your signs can't stop me because i can't read." you read the burst of notifications in discord of kenma and your friends making fun of you for even playing league willingly. "fuck y'all. god forbid, i have a hobby." you huffed.

"it's league."

"just let me play my silly champions in peace, kenma! you don't see me judging you for picking sebastian every stardew save!"

"he's not even that bad!"

"you always steal him from me!"

"you don't deserve him!"

"fuck you!"

"fuck you!"

a blanket of silence falls over you both as you end your silly bickering.

"you wanna play a pokemon soul link run after your match?"

"fuck you, yeah i do."

[loserdiaz]

seven-ish sentences sunday! 📜🎥

tagged by @prince-buck-diaz @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @panbuckley @wildlife4life <33

here's more from author!buck and actor!eddie au, plus another moodboard bc i cannot stop.

(also, if you wanna be tagged on this fic once i post, interact with this post)

"Can you read for Gabriel in Scene 23, where he's talking to officer Blake Scatorccio?" Chimney says, looking up from his notes. "Buck will read opposite to you." 

"Yeah, okay." Eddie swallows thickly. In the first books, Gabriel and Blake only have a few scenes, but in the second book their relationship grows stronger. 

Some fans even think the author might be building up to a romantic relationship, claiming it's a slow burn. Eddie isn't sure and he hasn't asked Buck, but just the idea of doing this scene with him makes his nerves set on fire. 

He'll be acting out Buck's words, words the man took time and effort and that he created oh so carefully, so masterfully. Eddie will be telling them to him, looking him in the eye and thinking— what exactly? 

"Eddie? Are you ready?" Buck raises an eyebrow at him. 

"Yeah, Ready." 

Buck clears his throat and starts the scene. 

"Gabe? What are you doing here?" 

"I'm dropping all of the evidence I gathered with Pipe in these last few months." He sighs, feeling as defeated as Gabriel does in the scene. "I just— I can't do it anymore." 

Buck frowns at him, just like he pictures Blake would be doing in the book. "What? You're just gonna give up?" 

"I can't keep going like this! Chasing after some psycho, being haunted by my wife's ghost. I—" Eddie runs a hand through his hair and pulls back. "I need to think of my son, okay? I can't keep doing your job for you, Officer Scatorccio." He sneers. He evokes every feeling of grief and frustration he felt when Shannon first left him with no warning, except for a note. He brings up every feeling of insecurity and of not being good enough to the surface, every feeling of rage and fury that's been simmering under the surface for longer than Eddie is willing to admit, and he pours them all into Gabriel's character. 

In the book and in the script, Blake gets impossibly closer to Gabriel, grabbing him by the arm and stopping him from walking away. In real life, Buck remains seated a few feet away from him. 

Eddie tries not to be disappointed. This is an audition after all and Buck is just reading the lines to move Eddie through the scene, that's how it goes. It's just business. 

"My hands are tied and you know it. The whole police department can't go after just one person, Gabe. You know that. We have too many cases and—" 

Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie can see Chimney. The director held in a rare thrall, the tip of his glasses inserted between his full, dreamy lips, that ankle crossed over the opposite knee, jiggling, jiggling. He looks impressed, Eddie thinks. Maybe. 

"And what?" 

"I think you're close. I think you are stronger and smarter than any one of us— You're extraordinary, Gabriel Alvarez and I am in awe of you every single day. You can't just give up." Buck gazes up at him, a smile gracing his lips, a small and barely there thing that doesn't really match the scene but Eddie can't bring himself to mind. 

"You are too good with words, Officer Scatorccio. But I don't know if I can trust them." Eddie looks down at the script, and then back up at Buck. "I don't know if I can trust you."

"Gabe, I—" And that's the end of the scene. Blake's partner interrupts them, claiming they need to go and Gabriel is left alone at the station. Confused and hopeless. 

Eddie takes a deep breath, telling himself it's over and he gave the scene the best he had. And he thinks he did pretty well— He thinks he did amazing, losing himself in the scene and in Buck's eyes, and hope sizzles under his skin, strong and powerful. 

"That was amazing, Eddie. You really seem to get the character." Chimney smiles at him, forcing him to look away from Buck. "It's really a beautiful thing to see." 

"Thanks." Eddie fidgets with the script. He knows they won't make a decision right then and there, and certainly not in front of him, but something keeps him frozen in place. 

His feet refuse to walk away. 

Hope inside of him moves and weaves through his system like a hurricane, not wanting to leave. 

"You really do understand Gabriel, Eddie." Buck speaks. "That was— Well, I guess Blake Scatorccio said it. Extraordinary." Buck says softly, maybe too soft for what the moment calls. "Thank you." 

Thank God it's dark in the rear of the studio. No one can see the tomato-colored tidal wave surging up Eddie's neck.

"Again, thanks so much for the opportunity." Eddie says, feeling his lips dry up. "I, uh— Yeah. Thanks." He awkwardly waves and turns away, hope trailing behind him like a neon sign showing how much he needs, how much he wants this. He wonders if they can see it. He wonders if they care. 

He thinks Buck might. 

tagging (no pressure): @monsterrae1 @alyxmastershipper @buddierights @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @honestlydarkprincess @bigfootsmom @bucktalias @maygrantgf @messyhairdiaz @ebdaydreamer @bekkachaos @cowboy-buddie @911onabc @shortsighted-owl @the-likesofus @elvensorceress @transbuck @transboybuckley @buckitup @prettyboybuckley @starlingbite

[strange-destinations]

Kitty can I please request the Mysterious Benedict Society squad (all of them, not just the main four) as to ''who will survive castle dracula''?

(......I initially meant ''the Benedict twins and Rhonda and Number Two and Milligan and SQ'' when I said ''all of them,'' but ngl a hilarious bonus question is ''if the ten men got trapped there too what chaos would ensue'' so I'm gonna add that on as well XD)

sigh, here we go. @canyourfavesurvivecastledracula, tell me if you want me to stop tagging you.

Overall, I don't think many of the characters in the Mysterious Benedict Society series have a really huge belief in the supernatural regarding vampires and things that go bump in the night.... but then again, a lot of the plot revolves around a machine that influences everybody with subliminal psychic messages, and also there's a toddler who's inexplicably naturally psychic. And everyone pretty much takes all of this as 'a bit strange! But okay, I'll believe it!' So in general let's assume a baseline of, 'sure, vampires, why not' from the entire cast.

okay, let's go kids first. That's right, we're subjecting children to the horrors of Castle Dracula.

Reynie Muldoon - is very much a Jonathan Harker-like kid to start with, actually. May accept the crucifix out of politeness. Most likely to be able to hold Dracula's attention in conversation. I feel like Dracula is like Mr Curtain in a lot of respects, and the vibes between Reynie and him would be similar. Many tense, charged games of chess may occur. I believe in his ability to survive the psychological torment, because he's got a hell of a strong will, but I don't believe in his physical ability to escape. Either the GFs get him or Dracula himself does.

Kate Wetherall - would accept the crucifix, not out of any particular politeness or religious belief, but just because you never know when you might need a handy cross-shaped trinket! Into the bucket it goes! Least likely to hold Dracula's attention, she's way too ADHD and not really the sort of person who'd interest him apart from being an adrenaline-filled bloodbag. MOST likely to stage a daring escape using the contents of her bucket, which Dracula will not be able to steal or throw out the window because of the crucifix handily concealed within. Most likely of all the kids to survive this.

Sticky Washington - oh boy, Sticky. His encyclopedic knowledge of vampire lore will probably give him a bit of an edge... but not much. Sticky on-his-own isn't brave enough to go exploring/sneaking around extensively unless things get really dire. And Dracula himself would scare the shit out of Sticky to the point of near-nonresponsiveness, to the point where I don't think Sticky would seem that interesting to Drac after a while. Would a photographic memory and lots of vampire trivia help him survive? Probably, for a while. Would it help him escape? Probably not. Sticky's only sticking around in Castle Dracula for a little bit. Also Dracula would smash his glasses 'by accident' as a power play.

Constance Contraire - grumpy toddler showing up to Castle Dracula?Cool, it's basically vampire DoorDash! ...would be Dracula's first thought - before he realizes that she's psychic. Constance doesn't have a lot going for her, all things told. She's not particularly physically able, she's obstinate and stubborn and not a great conversationalist, I doubt she'd take the crucifix out of that same stubbornness, and also she'd compose some really unflattering slam poetry about Dracula, Dracula's castle, Dracula's girlfriends, etc etc etc. Escape isn't really an option here. It would all come down to a battle of wills between Dracula and Constance.... which I'm not sure Constance would win, on her own. Sorry, the baby's dying here without help.

To nobody's surprise, the Society would be able to survive Castle Dracula if they were all trapped in it together, and in fact that's an incredible fic idea that I don't have time or energy to write. However, on their own... they're just a bunch of kids. They're not going to do so great.

What about the others?

Mr Benedict - is most certainly accepting the crucifix, but his good luck ends there. Everything about Castle Dracula is designed to heighten anxiety and make your emotions go into overdrive. And it's definitely not a good place to go around falling asleep in random places because you get upset or overwhelmed. The moment Dracula twigs to the narcolepsy situation, Mr Benedict's pretty much fully screwed. The one thing that might save him is the fact that he's an incredibly intelligent and brilliant man, and Dracula might want to pick his brain a bit.

Mr Curtain - would most certainly NOT accept the crucifix, he's too proud for that. Assuming he somehow manages to get his wheelchair up the mountain - or going by TV!Curtain, where he doesn't have a wheelchair at all - he's immediately going to set about trying to strike up a business deal with Dracula to expand his global reach. Either the Count kills Curtain, or they make each other worse and everybody else is going to have a bad time. It's kind of up in the air on that one.

Number Two - has an incredible advantage over literally everyone else here in almost never needing to sleep. I don't think she's going to be especially happy about it, but having the full run of the castle during the daytime despite Dracula's best efforts (and, if we go by the TV show, being a completely unhinged force of destructive chaos) is going to mean that she'll probably manage to sneak out using an inventive and clever strategy.

Rhonda Kazembe - I can't think of anything that gives Rhonda more or less of an advantage than your average person - would probably take a similar approach to Number Two in escaping, with a bit more social skills re: talking to Dracula.

Milligan - doesn't need a crucifix. Beats up Dracula singlehandedly and throws him out a window because he left Kate down in the town and promised he'd be back for her. Does the same for the vampire GFs, no problem, not even a moment of hesitation. Rips up his own clothes to fashion a rope to climb down out of the castle, treks by foot all the way down the mountain. Rocks up to town several weeks later, heavily injured and looking awful but still alive.

SQ - there's no easy way to say this: SQ doesn't have anything at all going for him in this situation. He is, unfortunately, not particularly smart and not particularly agile. He's a great artist, but that's not helpful here. I think he's just a handy snack to Drac unless someone shows up to help him.

[alelelesimz]

here are my favorite things i did this year :) thank you for tagging me @madeofcc <3

i was just gonna make a simple post and for some reason i decided to make this whole thing i guess, even features my stupid handwriting lol. everything written above + some more thoughts down below so you don't have to decipher whatever i wrote, also links to everything. thanks for following my messy blog and allowing me to rant about splatoon every other day lmao love u friends

harmony my beloved

i love splatoon ok! i've tried to recreate a few different splatoon characters before but they don't really translate well to sims. however i love how my harmony turned out! she's my fav character in the game and i'm quite proud of this funky little edit :)

leaf carrying a plant she stole

as soon as i saw that pose i knew i had to use it with my girl leaf! simple edit, but very cute <3 i wanna post more about my nymph!!!!!

what is this? a crossover episode????????

bojack horseman is my fav show ever. when i saw the horse pack trailer i KNEW i had to make this silly joke :p i didn't expect it to get so much attention but i'm glad it did! fun facts: 1) i painted bojack's face in game but basically redid the whole thing in photoshop bc sims textures are uh bad. 2) i recolored pc's dress and god i wish i could've made something better lmao. 3) i converted mr. pb's glasses and i SUFFERED. they actually look terrible ingame but ✨photoshop magic✨

this edit of an alien oc that i need to name still

i don't really use alpha hairs but ain't this one cute?! and i love this edit! if you read this give me a name suggestion for this sim please

YES THAT'S HAPPENING

I LOVE JUNO BIRCH!!! i literally need to stop myself from making another juno post every time she posts anything online lol. but that hot dog costume is iconic, what can i say.

sims in the city, baby + everything i made about them

i've been wanting to recreate these guys ever since i joined simblr back in 2019 (jesus christ) and i finally did! i'm very proud of them and happy so many people like them :) i loved this game growing up but none of my friends played it, so it's really cool to see more people who played it too!

also, that roxanna moxie lookbook i did? peak fashion

GRAP3FRUIT!

these guys!!!!!!!!! i really wanted to make a silly little band since forever and kari's edgewave fest finally pushed me to make them and I LOVE THEM! i can't wait to keep making more stuff with them babyyyyyyyyaskldjalskhdfklasj

[j-l-kepler]

I Turned My BG3 Tavs into Fake Origin Characters

CUZ NOBODY'S STOPPED ME YET

So here I was, scrolling through the BG3 tag when I come across a fantastic BG3 Template made by the extraordinary @dvgsart! Couldn't mcfreakin' help myself, I tell you.

So I took my 5 active non-Durge playthroughs (3 of which are 2-Tav saves) and slapped them in! Had a blast doing this, I tell you. All the beautiful Tavs I keep seeing just make me wanna gush about my own silly Tavs. Life's too short to not have fun.

[Putting the ART and everything below the cut because this is gonna be loooooong and y'all should get to opt out]

Yeah okay maybe I've written Companion Guides for 6/7 of these guys. I've had a lot of time at work lately, okay.

I call these guys the Stacked Seven because all of them have massive badonkadonks and I'm in desperate need of a new hobby. I can't help the fact drawing tits is very fun and I am horrendously bisexual.

ANYWAY lil bit of preamble you can skip -- I based their stats and weapons on what they'd be as Companions or Origin runs, not what their actual in-game stats are. Romantic Partners / Besties / Weapons are who and what they'd probably default to if they were just in ya party. I also put them in their Companion fits, not their in-game fits. AIGHT LET'S KICK IT OFF, IN ORDER

Eckhart Markolac

The Infernal Twins

Ayyy it's my guy, you might've seen my guy before! We're starting off in familiar territory. Also he's the only twunk here. RIP.

Eckhart is one roguish half of the whole known as the infamous Markolac Twins. He and his sister Emerleigh have spent years of their lives dedicated to paying off a debt they owe to the Undercellar through smuggling, cons and other life-threatening crimes. Now that the Nautiloid has picked them up and dumped them a long ways away from the Gate, he's faced with the consequences of his actions and the kind of freedom he never expected to grasp in his lifetime.

Eckhart shares a companion quest with Emerleigh - get these tadpoles outta their skulls and get back to Baldur's Gate! But will he return to face his debtor, go on the run for the rest of his life, or forsake a future he doesn't think he's good enough for?

For those who haven't met my angst machine of a rogue, Eckhart is a sarcastic, witty and vaguely sleazy guy who's basically your classic rogue. He comes complete with a detached attitude, lower (but not too low) moral standards, and a heart of gold under layers and layers of self sabotage and emotional dysfunction. He's just bad at hiding it.

Eck and Em would be recruited at the exact same time, and their tadpoles would make it so they cannot live for very long without the other. How? Why? Because I don't wanna write a whole freaking branch where one of the twins dies and the other just has to deal with that. Game branch logic is HARD TO WRITE, DAMN YOU.

Emerleigh Markolac

The Infernal Twins

Heyyy girl, it's Em, it's my girl!

Emerleigh is one bardic half of the whole known as the infamous Markolac Twins. She and her brother Eckhart have spent years of their lives dedicated to paying off a debt they owe to the Undercellar through smuggling, cons and other life-threatening crimes. Now that the Nautiloid has picked them up and dumped them a long ways away from the Gate, she's more determined than ever to hold onto this newfound freedom... more terrified of returning than she ever thought she could be.

Emerleigh shares a companion quest with Eckhart - get these tadpoles outta their skulls and get back to Baldur's Gate! But will she return to face her debtor, go on the run for the rest of her life, or deny herself the future she so desperately wants for her and her brother?

If you haven't met Em, she's your classic dramatic bard who speaks in poetry, prose and academia! She's friendly, mischievous, and has so so so many things she hasn't given herself the space to contend with emotionally. She's a pretty lady used to having a perfect mask demanded of her, craving a chance to speak bluntly and openly instead of wrapping herself up in layers upon layers of what other people want from her.

I've already written plenty about Em and Eck. The twins' stories are very interconnected, with the quest playing out the same beats from the perspective of whichever twin the player is playing/romancing/keeping in their party.

Canary Highfall

Child of Light

My other major 2-Tav playthrough I have yet to mention, and the first modded class I've played!

Canary's life has been dedicated to the pursuit of truth -- consequences be damned. Reuniting with her possessive estranged father has caused a lot of roadblocks for her, but her divine heritage won't stop her from her latest fascination: Mind Flayers. Specifically, the strange tadpole specimen she intercepted in her father's study. Her pursuits, assisted by her bodyguard and trusted friend Leryk, have resulted in the two of them playing host to those very same tadpoles! The questions are piling up, with one weighing heaviest on her mind: why did her father of all people have this specimen to begin with? And what does that mean for her and Leryk?

Canary's quest is separate from Leryk, as the first part of her companion quest is finding him. If the player completes the grove or tries to move to the next region without him while keeping Canary in the party or at camp, he'll just show up at their camp. They're a package deal from Act 2 onwards, so the player can either dismiss them both or keep them both. She's not going anywhere without her closest friend!

Canary is a feverously academic person with a focus on abnormal biology. Her noble position and all the restrictions that come with it are a recent development in her life, and one she only engages with for the resources it affords her when possible. She's extremely distrustful of authority and how nobility has a chokehold on academia, so finding out her estranged father is a hyper-paranoid aasimar descended from Lathander himself doesn't exactly help her faith in higher powers -- be they the divine or the political. She's a bit of a smartass and gets wrapped up in what she's doing so completely that she often doesn't consider the consequences. Despite her outward confidence, it's very easy to get her to start rambling or turn her into an absolute mess. Though she hates when Leryk treats her like a princess, she trusts him with her life and would do just about anything for him.

With Canary, I liked the idea of a Companion with a specific interest in Mind Flayers and a personal stake in the conspiracy much like Wyll does. She wouldn't be able to tell the player anything Halsin can't already say in much more detail since she hasn't made a lot of headway in her tadpole-specific research, though.

Leryk Coppperlot

Knight of the Dawn

He's the only one of my active saves that has a skin tone other than "human". Good job, Keps.

Leryk's life hasn't been very long so far, but very little of it has been uneventful until recently. Saved from his life as a ruthless mercenary at the age of 19, he's devoted himself to the Son of Lathander. When his savior's recently-discovered estranged daughter was placed in his care, Leryk then devoted his life to her. Duty blossomed into friendship, but Leryk's blind faith in Canary's father persists despite what Canary has to say about it. Now that they've both been tadpoled and whisked far away from the safety of the Gate, Leryk is determined to get Canary home no matter the cost. But can he face the horrific truth Canary is on the cusp of uncovering...? And what about the truths she's been hiding from him?

Leryk has that frantic "rookie soldier" energy. He's extremely combat-experienced, but he's terrible at wrangling in Canary since he's very easy to sway through enthusiasm alone. He's blindly devoted to Canary and even moreso to her father, but otherwise can be quite shrewd and cautious of others. Misjudging one's character used to mean death for him, and he learned that when his old mentor tried to turn him in for a bounty on his head. Leryk, despite this, has learned a lot from the kindness afforded to him and does his best to repay it. "Caution, but not discourtesy" is his motto.

Leryk's quest is separate from Canary, as the first part of his companion quest is finding her. If the player completes the grove or tries to move to the next region without her, she'll just show up at their camp. Since they're a package deal Act 2 onwards, the player can either dismiss them both or keep them both. Canary's his best friend and he is literally her bodyguard, after all.

I love devoted bodyguards. I love him so much. I like the idea of some Companions knowing each other or having pre-existing relationships. You know he's having a panic attack and is going to find her just chilling in the Goblin Camp like it's no big deal.

Briar Lockren

The Weary Ranger

okay so Briar was actually a fan companion BEFORE she was a Tav. I recently restarted her run in a 2-Tav where the other Tav is actually Default Dark Urge because this girl's perception proficiency is worthless if she hasn't slept enough. And she never sleeps enough.

After three years of wandering the Sword Coast, Briar has settled in Cloak Wood in hopes of outrunning her terrible luck. Her past involvement with one of Cyric's cults has left her branded with supernatural-levels of misfortune and nightmares plaguing her every time she falls asleep. She's basically a walking-talking tempest. Having fallen in and out of the Feywild and caused towns to burn without her say, Briar thought being picked up by the Nautiloid was simply another instance of her shit luck. So imagine her surprise when she got the first nightmare-free rest in three years. Free from the eyes of the one who cursed her, Briar's luck has suddenly changed.

Briar is a somewhat ditsy individual prone to taking inopportune naps just about anywhere. Originally from Luskan, Briar's time wandering and falling into ridiculously terrible situations has made her a pretty difficult person to rattle. She's kind and gentle despite all she's suffered, but blames herself for wandering around the way she does and causing trouble (settling down with her luck is impossible). Her passivity is what led to her situation, however, as the one who cursed her was her childhood friend-turned cult leader-turned Chosen of Cyric-turned ex-boyfriend. It's messy. Briar's very used to messy life situations.

Briar's probably my most developed Tav in terms of a Companion story since she was originally written to be one. I also will acknowledge her being half-drow but not LOOKING half-drow is partly due to my own personal cowardice, but it's also the result of her complicated heritage. Lotta drow in Luskan. The fact she doesn't look like her full-drow father should tip you off as to why he might not have especially liked his child, therefore neglecting her and giving her very few chances to adopt the cult's teachings for herself. Kinda hard to teach a child to become a religious narcissist when you keep telling her she's just inherently inferior.

Scarlet

The Scarlet Scourge

My longest-lived Tav... heeeey girl, hiiii~ I'm probably gonna play her in a campaign one of these days. Siiigh.

The Scarlet Scourge strikes fear into the hearts of the greedy aristocrats that call Baldur's Gate home. A street urchin whose life was ruined time and time again by those who have far too much money, Scarlet's dedicated her life to taking from those who won't miss it and giving to those who need it. But Scarlet's been stopping the plans of the corrupt for a long time, and it all began with some dangerous blueprints. Blueprints she quite literally carries within her soul. Now that she's crashed far beyond the anonymity the Gates afford her, the one she stole the plans from has a chance to find her all over again.

Scarlet is a highly confident and highly competent master thief. She takes great pride in her ingenuity and artificing skill, and won't let you forget it. She's fiercely independent and keeps people at a distance, even hiding her real name from those she gets close to. However, like every Robin Hood figure, she revels in her legend and genuinely adores the people she does it for. Scarlet may act arrogant, but she has the skill to back up her confidence and risks her life for altruism. Get her in front of a gadget, however, and her brain goes a mile a minute. (She's going to be fucking pissed when she sees how cool the Steel Defenders are and the awful ways they're being utilized)

Who doesn't love a Phantom Thief? I think she and Wyll would absolutely be besties if they didn't already know each other before the events of the game - they both love the people of Baldur's Gate, have super hero names, and are archetypes of a class they don't belong to (Wyll is a Paladin in a Warlock's body while Scarlet is a Rogue in an Artificer's body).

Rohku Eddervyn

The Oathbroken

My OTHER longest-lived Tav, and the oldest character of my active Tavs. He's the oldest of them as well in terms of character age.

Rohku has been given many titles over the years, but none of which he's found suit him. After awakening to his Oath in the wake of a Sharran attack during his time as an Acolyte, Rohku was once known as The Sun of the Seventh Dawn for reasons he'll spare you for now. But years of tracking down and slaughtering Dark Justiciars began to take their toll. When grief and rage gave way to emptiness, he understood the pull of Shar. Unable to hunt down those he now saw as victims, his Oath shattered. But his devotion remains. Now, as he searches for new meaning under the Moonmaiden's gaze, he tracks down an artifact said to have fallen into Sharran hands...

Rohku is a mature and quiet man, jaded by the world around him. He's tired of battles between good and evil, and now lives for what is kind -- in any form that takes. He's patient with people and thinks very little of what others think of him. His wisdom and experiences make him an excellent leader, and an even better listener. He often chooses to resolve conflict through his words rather than his blade, but his deadpan demeanor makes that difficult. But he can handle that when it's his own ass on the line. But Zweihanders aren't shields.

Rohku was the first masculine character I played in BG3 and I fell in love. He's so tired and sweet. He's kind of Halsin-esque in that he was thrust into leadership without his say and acts as a calming presence for those he makes camp with. And big. He's a big boy.

~~

Hee hee hee self call-out time! Yes I have noticed 3 of them have black hair, 3 of them are tieflings, 5 have a different hair color streaked in there (with 2 of them specifically graying at a young age), and only 1 of them is above the age of 30. Because I Am A Coward. Pobody's Nerfect.

Hope you kinda enjoyed my little Tav sound-off! If you have questions about them or wanna see more of them or, heck, even draw or write about them yourself, go craaaazy! I don't know how much of these ideas are, like, solidified. IDK I'm still playing around with them.

God I put too much work into these. I can't believe I do fan fiction now. Wild.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

'DON'T BLAME ME, [PART TWO]

-GOTHAM!JERVIS TETCH X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; You meet the man from the club again.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!jervis x female reader. SLOW BURN!!! Not sure how many chapters this will be yet! LOTS OF PLOT SET-UP!! AGE GAP ROMANCE! (reader is Jim and Barbara's daughter) Jervis and reader are lowkey Hamilton and Burr parallels. She fell first, he fell harder. Writing this kind of artistically and as character studies for everyone. Reader's still reminiscing. Daddy issues. Jervis being an obsessive freak, per usual. More reader lore is dropped. I'm taking canon out back and beating it with a stick until it stops twitching. Jim Gordon is...Jim Gordoning.

⋆ tag list (tell me if you want to be removed!) @adalwolfgang @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @honestmrdual @moonlightnyx

⋆ 'PART ONE, - 'PART TWO, - ‘PART THREE, - ‘PART FOUR, - ‘PART FIVE, - ‘PART SIX, - 'PART SEVEN, - 'PART EIGHT, - 'PART NINE, -'PART TEN, - 'PART ELEVEN, - 'PART TWELVE, - 'PART THIRTEEN,

♫ “Something happened for the first time, in the darkest little paradise.” Don't Blame Me by Taylor Swift

Everything feels cold on mornings like these.

The light bleeds in through the venetian blinds, gray and gloomy. You huddle into the blankets, clinging to any warmth you can find. It's your dads house, or rather, apartment. You remember waking up in a king-sized bed years prior.

Your thoughts drift back to old memories again. You wish you could push them out.

"Dad, I'm scared." You say, seven years old, middle of the night, clutching a rabbit stuffed animal. Your mom rubs her face, still groggy and half-awake.

"Hey, hey. It's okay." He whispers through his own fatigue, stretching out his arms for you to join them on the bed. "Why are you scared?"

You hop on the bed, crawling into him. Your mother tosses, turning over with a lazy hum before drifting back to sleep. You squeeze your rabbit, Mr. Marbles, and bury yourself in the covers.

"What if they get me?" You ask, voice small. You can't see your fathers eyes soften through the darkness.

"Who?" He seems to sober up from sleep at your question, clearing his throat. His voice becomes a bit clearer.

"The bad guys." You say the words like they're sacred. It feels hard to get them out, and it feels swallowing salt-water.

Silence.

"I won't let them, I swear to you." Your dads voice speaks, and in his arms, you feel sleep slowly return to you. "I'm gonna protect you. And mommy."

"What about you?"

Silence.

"Go to sleep, Y/N. Everything's going to be okay."

You fell asleep that night, quiet, waking up to pancakes, and light that was much warmer than what you have now.

You sit up in your own bed, cramped. You heave a sigh, rubbing your temples. You're not tired like you should be. You stayed up the previous night, jumping roof-tops with Selina. It was a welcome distraction, the adrenaline that pooled in your blood at night. Mornings in Gotham were worse.

You hear whispers in the room over. Thin walls. You don't care to listen as you get dressed, but you do wonder who exactly your father could be talking too.

"How'd you find me?"

"Oh, you're famous, sir. You're names in the papers. The famous bounty hunter." You wince. Jim Gordon. Your father. The bounty hunter.

You walk to the room quietly, before stopping. You see the two men sitting down, and you piece together just who exactly is on the couch.

Both men turn to face you at the interruption, and Mr. Tetch looks equally as surprised as you are. His eyebrows pull together, and your dad looks like he's been caught doing something. He knows you don't approve of this bounty hunter bullshit.

"Ms. Y/N?" Mr. Tetch calls, and Jim picks his head up at this. He gives you a look.

"You two have met...?" Your dad speaks, sizing up the situation in concerned curiosity.

Before you can answer, Mr. Tetch does for you.

"Yes, sir. We've met at the Siren's club. Your daughter, I presume?" He asks, inquisitively. He looks as though gears are turning in his head. Jim simply nods, a bit uncertainly.

"Hi." You give a small wave. Mr. Tetch brightens up at this, somehow fascinated.

"Right." Jim says, slowly. He looks back between the two of you.

That familiar feeling of silence sounds out again. It tastes bitter.

"...I want you to find my dear friend." Mr. Tetch speaks up. "We're very close. But...her condition proved too much for me. I sought help, the worst kind, the fiend. Professor Strange." He hisses the insult with venom. You watch your dad raise a brow as he sips his coffee.

"Her condition?" He asks, and you marvel at the words. How odd.

"Some poison, in her blood." The man responds, like it's casual. "very rare, unique, in fact. He took her in. Said she needed constant supervision. He wouldn't let me see her."

There's an edge to his voice. The way he talks about this friend of his. Poisoned blood, you think, curious. For some reason it embitters you. You hate this fucking city sometimes.

"You go to the police?" Your dad asks. Of course he'd ask that.

"Useless." Mr. Tetch says, solemnly. "This is Gotham, after all."

You let out a soft chuckle at that, which makes both of them look at you. Both sets of eyes zone in on you. Your dad looks disappointed.

"Well, he's not wrong." You nip, and Mr. Tetch cocks his head up. "The GCPD is a shit show."

Mr. Tetch looks surprised at your audacity, and a bit amused. Your father reprimands you.

"Y/N." He says, and you bite back a retort. He sighs, dragging a hand along his face. "Indian Hill escapees get five grand from the GCPD. You able to top that?"

You remember when all the money in the world couldn't have swayed the famous Jim Gordon from his duty.

Mr. Tetch pulls out a wide wad of cash from his pocket, "I'll double it." He speaks. Woah. Did your mom give him that much for just one show? No way in hell. He must have gotten this money somewhere else.

"I'll see what I can do." Jim says, without question. You want to roll your eyes.

"Thank you, very much." The man responds. Polite, isn't he?

You watch as your dad pockets the money, and how he's handed a photo of a beautiful woman. In a strange way, it makes you feel a bit insecure.

"Leave your number-" Jim goes to speak, when Mr. Tetch interrupts him, handing a business card. Eager much.

The man leaves without a word, sending you a final glance before he turns. Those dark eyes...they startle you. He sends a small, intrigued smile. Again, it feels like the world stops. Your breath catches in your throat.

When he's gone, you stand on your toes to hover over your dads shoulder. You two stare at the business card in synonymous silence.

"The Great Jervis Tetch" Hah. So that's his first name. Jervis.

You suddenly feel warm. Maybe this house isn't that cold after all.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Want You Dead

Daemon Targaryen x Pirate!Reader | Part 1 2 3

Summary: It was a classic case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time that lead to the Rogue Prince's capture to a ship of pirates. Had it not been for the cunning lady of the ship, he would have been killed. Yet, upon his relief of capture, he told himself it was only right if he captures the very lady that thought to capture him in the first place.

Word Count: 14k+

Warnings: graphic mentions of assault/rape, smut [oral (m receiving), degradation kink, impregnation kink, binding kink, fingering, vaginal penetration], fem!reader, super slow burn (i hate myself for doing this to myself), some made up characters and lore, time skips, bisexual reader, super thirsty reader, super major kinky reader, everyone onboard is her playmate fr, curse words because I'm tired, angst, misogyny, parts with fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: HELLO I MADE A FUCKING SPIN OFF????????? WHY????? IT'S SO LONG I CRASHED THE EDITOR SO MANY TIMES ?????? WHICH IS WHY I AM CUTTING THIS IN HALF OR POSSIBLY MORE T_T I really did not want to do this but tumblr decided for me with the amount of times it refused to cooperate. It's far from done T_T but i hope it's just gonna be two very long chapters. Anyway pls reblog and comment if you so desire me to get that next chapter finished quickly T_T also, if you would like to be tagged pls tell me.

"STOP!"

The 3 pair of ears in the room ring at the sound of the shriek.

He, who was bound on the floor, didn't care for it though, as there was another more pressing matter at hand. He awaited the piercing sensation of a blade to his neck. He realized though that shriek had halted his impending doom as no painful sensation came. He opens his eyes just as a sound of someone galloping over resounded on the wooden floors.

"What are you morons doing?" I demand, turning to the silver haired man on his knees with a sword to his neck. He raised his eyes up at me, then down to the weapon in my own hand.

I hit the sword by his neck away, metal clashing against metal. The blood my blade was still slick in splattered onto man's cheeks in the process.

I make a face at that, crouching down after wiping my weapon on my dress shirt, uncaring if it stains the already stained off-white cloth.

I take in his features-- violet eyes, strong jaw, pointed nose, just as it seems he is taking in mine. I do not fail to catch the fact his pupils linger on the loose ties of my top by my cleavage where a single, largish, encrusted ruby dangled from my neck.

My own eyes travel down to his armor, and it seems we both silently examine the crests we bore. I lick my lips before speaking, "apologies. May I?" I raise a hand to his face.

The man looks at me darkly. I knit my brows, holding in a chuckle at his lack of response, tongue darting out yet again to my lower lip. I pull my hand away. I stand straight then turn to the two men behind me, "did you cut his tongue off?"

For a moment, the two look at each other. The tall, red haired man widens his eyes at the shorter, yet still tall, blonde, mentally asking him if he, indeed, cut off his tongue.

I roll my eyes after a moment passed with no response, "how could you lot forget so quickly? I was literally here with you less than an hour ago, not a whole day!"

I dust off my dirty, leather trousers and stomp my leather boots as I listen to them make excuses.

"It's not me! I caught Gorm hacking at him and I came to help," Ahern replies with his thick Gaelic accent, "I do not ken if he managed to chop his tongue of in the meantime."

I turn to Gorm, placing my hands on my hips, exasperated, "well?"

"I don't remember, if I'm being honest," he replies under his breath, muttering something about drinking too much ale in his Norse mother tongue.

"Fine!" I sigh, turning back to the man on the floor, "shall I check?" I lean down, piping softly, "could you be a dear and just," I bring my thumb by his lower lip, barely ghosting it on his skin, "open your mouth for me? It's truly more for you, if I'm being frank."

For the prolonged while I exchange looks with him, the man seems half compelled to do as I asked out of sheer intrigue. His eyes were still dark, and I yet could tell there was a curious glint behind them, curious and predatory.

"Who's he anyhow? Why can't we kill 'im?" Ahern asks.

Immediately, the prisoner turns away and stares at the large oaf with a look of daggers.

I huff and look over to said oaf, shooting him a similar expression. Ahern's annoyed face, once finding mine, melts into regret.

I roll my eyes, walking towards the discarded weapon on the floor, picking it up, "this is yours, correct?" I turn to our captive, earning silence still.

Ahern answers instead, "that's his alright."

I turn to Ahern, "This is Valyrian steel," I start to explain, turning back to its owner, "and his hair is whiter than your arse cheeks," I hand him the weapon. "He's a Valyrian."

"Hmp," Gorm tilts his head, "I thought he was just old."

I roll my eyes and shake my head, "this is why you should leave the politics to the masters, captain." I turn from Gorm to our prisoner, "and as said master, I say we take him onboard and bring him to our next stop... use him for show."

For a moment, my two shipmates are silent.

"No offence," the ginger rubs his fingers down from his chin to his beard, "but this one would've nearly killed our bright ol' captain if I hadn't stepped in," Ahern says.

"And you would suggest what? We leave him here? We kill him?" I inquired, "you do know that being a Valyrian means he is not only a high born, but a royal, right? And even it were that he is not the most beloved of his line, make no mistake his line will come for whomever made him unable return."

I steal a look from the Valyrian, "we don't even know why he's here, clad in armour."

"Yeah, well no one's gonna know why he ended up missing," Gorm says, yet again making me roll my eyes.

Ahern agrees, "yeah, we've done it once before-"

"Yeah! With that rat and his stupid cunty right hand-"

"And that old geezer! Gods, with the awful beard-"

The two continue to bicker amongst themselves of the exploits we've accomplished, but they all fall deaf to my ears.

"I beg your pardon," I turn to the man who had yet to speak, "they're not very creative and it's impossible for even I to help them with that."

Finally, after a few moments of struggle on the behalf of the captive wanting to break free, we got on board Jocelyn. We had to knock him out and have Ahern carry him over his shoulder to do so though. We tied him up, starboard side, with rope on poles meant for the very job of keeping prisoners.

Right now, I was patiently awaiting his return to consciousness.

I fiddled with my necklace, retracing the emblem on the reflective red rock with my fingers. I was sat by the edge of the ship, watching as the salty waves crashed against the hull.

I couldn't help but break into a smile upon hearing the man behind me curse and groan. It was nearing the sunset now, so he was lucky the sun was not too bright for his newly opened eyes.

I turn from where I sat, and hop in front of him, slightly raising my head to meet his face, as he was taller than I, "so you do have a tongue."

His head shakes as the ship hits a particularly rough wave.

I blink at the bloodied side of his head and purse my lips before telling him, "if you hadn't been so difficult, I wouldn't have had to hit you with my hilt."

He grinds his teeth then clenches his jaw, clearly not in the mood for my shenanigans, evident in his attempts to pierce me with his glare.

I place my hands behind my back and lean forward, "you're bleeding. Just say the word and I'll clean you up," I raise a finger, "and even feed you. Supper is almost ready."

He speaks nothing still.

I narrow my eyes at him, anticipating some sort of bite in his vernacular, since he did hold the looks of someone who basks in chaos.

Gorm especially made it a point to whine about how confrontational and short tempered he had had been, and how they quickly escalated into a fight because of the silver haired man's brazen words. Of course, Gorm omitted mentions of any sort of offence he did to our captive. He didn't have to say anything for me to know he's most definitely guilty of riling the Valyrian up just as much though.

I make an exaggerated expression, "I am afraid I'm being quite serious about asking for your permission before doing anything to you," I lean closer, "before touching you. Consent, to me, is important, for anyone who touches me without it loses their fingers one at a time."

The man's expression is blank, yet I could see a fire building in his violet eyes. I chuckle, excited over his brewing vexation.

Upon the impact of another crash of waves, I bend my knees and rock with the movement to remain upright. My hair flies up to the man's face as a gust of wind accompanies us. I push the strands behind my ears, exposing my collarbones further, practically drawing in the man's gaze to the area. I bite my lower lip as I watch him examine my skin and the necklace laid upon it, "perhaps you'd be more willing to speak of another topic? Shall you prefer to ask me something about myself?"

I move back and sit on the side of the ship again, this time facing him.

He was stretched out like a starfish, arms and legs in thick rope, and I could only imagine how uncomfortable he must be, especially since he was still clad in his armor. Oh, how I wonder, with how good he looks in it, how much better he would look without.

After another moment passed with only silence, I decide to speak instead, "your crest. It is similar to the king's." I think of how badly I want to retrace it with my fingers.

His head wobbles again because of the waves.

"I reckon you could be a prince, considering your attire. It would make sense, considering how much gold Ahern got out of you. But then again," I take a moment before continuing. He seemed exasperated and awfully done with it all. Though he had an air of composure around him, with how he was clenching his fists and possibly curling his toes underneath his shoes, he looked like he was about to snap. I smirk deliciously, thinking of nothing else than a way to make him burst, "perhaps you are just so desperate to pass off as a Targaryen."

"Not as desperate as you are to converse with me," he finally responds, though in High Valyrian.

I purse my lips in a small, thoughtful smile, and cross my arms, "I am not the desperate one on Jocelyn," says I in the same language.

He conceals it well, but I could tell he was not expecting me to understand, let alone respond.

For a moment, the two of us stare each other down. If he could, he probably would have lit me on fire with his gaze by now.

"Supper is here," chirps Aldora, walking towards me with a hot dish of food. She dreamily smiles ear to ear as she hands me a bowl.

I smirk back at the shorter woman as I take the food from her, "thank you, my love."

"May I?" she peers up at me with a longing expression.

"You may," I offer my hand, "but what of our Targaryen scum?" My eyes flick over to the said man as Aldora takes my hand and hops up next to me, "what shall he eat?"

Aldora frowns, seating herself snugly close to me, "he's a Targaryen?" She pulls her lips in disgust as I nod. She then presses her lips in an uninterested pout, "matters not. He is our prisoner and dangles on our mercy."

I click my tongue at that, "now, my love, I taught you better than to leave your bed pets hungry," I retort, hopping off in front of the said Targaryen, managing not to spill a drop of food.

Aldora is offended, "you cannot bed him!" She whines, "you are promised to me tonight."

I chuckle, "I jest, love," I turn back to her and give her a quick flying kiss, "still," I turn back to the man and scoop up some food, "I would enjoy it if he joined."

I bring a spoon up to his lips. His jaw clenches slightly as he looks down on me.

"I WOULD NOT!" Aldora exclaims, jumping down behind me. Swiftly, I turn to her, seeing her cross her arms with teary yet angry eyes. She roughly stomps off, thunder and lightning following her.

I can't help but chuckle in amusement, calling out, "Aldora, my love! Do not be cross!"

Ahern, who Aldora shoved right past, huffs at the contact then bellows out, "it'd do you good to get used to it!" He then turns and makes eye contact with me, "she's got a thirst that not even all seven seas can quench."

After a moment tension, Ahern snaps out of his trance and turns back to the direction of my quarters where Aldora locked herself up in, "last time, she left me for you! Imagine how I felt."

"AT LEAST IT WASN'T FOR A PRISONER!" Aldora screams.

"Aye, and a prisoner one time," Ahern mutters, walking off somewhere else in the ship.

"My arm is starting to tire," I speak to the prisoner.

"Both mine are," he quips back, making me chuckle in excitement over his harsh tone.

I put the spoon down on the bowl and raise a brow, "what would you have me do?" I watch his expression then decide to take a bite of food myself. He reverts back into his silence. A brow of mine quirks up in expectation.

When he does nothing but glare, I lose interest, "right."

I crouch down and place the bowl in front of him, nudging it back in place with my boot when it moved around the floor, "tell me when you're finally interested. Then, I can keep you locked up in my quarters instead of here." I stand up and give him a smile, "til then, Targaryen scum, I must pacify Aldora, lest she threaten to throw herself into the sea again."

The said Targaryen only watches as his unhinged captor walks away and enters her quarters. It was not long until the seas calmed, the sun set, and his, along with everyone else's ears were filled with lewd, loud, and wanton groans and cries of womanly pleasure.

His eye twitches as he looks down at the bowl of food in front of him.

The next day, I am munching an apple in front of the silver haired man, yet again waiting for him to wake up, only this time from his sleep.

Our captain, Gorm, who had been watching me watch the prisoner finally decides to walk over.

"Might I?" he asks me before coming closer. I, who was leaning against the side of the ship reach my hand out to him, and take another bite of my apple, wordlessly allowing him to approach me.

He takes my hand and firmly pulls me against him, wrapping his arm around me, securing them under my breasts. I place my arm over his and I continue to finish the rest of my apple.

Gorm leans against me, bending down to match my height, muttering in his mother tongue against my ears, "I don't understand your intrigue. He is hideous compared to me."

I chuckle as I chew before responding in Norse, "you vikings made sure to steal all the pretty women from their husbands," I lean against his chest and crane my neck up to look at his face, "you're wrongfully boasting about your good looks." I take a moment to examine in his blonde hair, blue eyes, and thick lashes, giving his lips a quick peck, then turning away, taking another bite of my snack, "and, he's not so bad. Much more cunning than you could ever be."

Gorm huffs at that, face sinking to my shoulder, pressing a rough kiss on my skin, "he doesn't know what you like."

I giggle at the ticklish feeling, "and I wager he'll learn much quicker than you ever could."

He is fully offended, and releases me abruptly. He then spits at the Targaryen's direction. Lucky for the latter, it misses his face by a hair and lands in front of him with a disgusting splat sound.

It was in this moment, I realize that man was already awake. I excitedly perk up at the sight of his open eyes, "good morn, Targaryen scum!"

He only looks at me again, completely annoyed, face wound in tension, ready to kill.

I smirk at him, "oh don't be so grumpy. If you must know, you are not special to the title scum," I walk over to him, clarifying as I get on my toes and move back and forth, "I think all monarchs and nobles are such."

He watches me as I take another bite of my apple, "hungry, my pet?" I ask as I move the fruit to his lips.

As if on cue, I hear his stomach growl. I decide to ignore it for his sake, although I am sure the involuntary act his body betrayed him with only added much more to his sour awakening.

I instead explain, "I will not feed you if you do not ask me to, for why should I force you when I know how much more effective it'd be to persuade you," I turn between him and my apple, "especially since I, too, am a master of that craft."

The Targaryen scum does not respond in the manner in which I wanted, "where did you steal that?"

My lips quirk at the accusation as I watch his eyes lock on my ruby necklace, "you think so lowly of me, Targaryen scum. This is the only thing on Jocelyn that is truly mine."

Jocelyn? He huffs, asking again "where are you taking me, insolent wench?"

I huff, rolling my eyes, "boring." I release a sigh, "still, if you must know, we're heading west. It's quite pleasant there in this time of year."

The man seems a bit pacified with my answer and I detest it. I click my tongue, "you are too eager to escape, yet you've no idea whose ship you are aboard."

He tilts his head, "you called that nitwit captain."

I cross my arms and shrug, turning to Gorm for a second then back to him.

"It's his ship," he decides.

I bite my apple, then reply, muffled, "does the captain normally own the ship?"

He quips back with his own question, "does the king own the castle?"

I give him a look, "well, that doesn't matter," I reply, "he's the king."

The Targaryen decides to speak to me again in his native tongue, "my sword holds the strength of his king's army behind it."

I chuckle at that, looking down to his hips, where his sword would have been, had I not locked it up with the rest of my spoils, "I see no sword, nor army behind you at all," I look back up to him and step forward, replying in High Valyrian, "you are nameless to me."

His face contorts at that.

I am awfully excited by this. I swirl my tongue across my lips and chuckle.

"Untie me and I will name myself," he responds.

I can't help but throw my head back in laughter, fully amused by how much weight he puts on the revelation of his mere name. Still, the spark behind his eyes makes my stomach churn deliciously, so I say, "I will untie you, if you swear not to touch me without my approval."

He weighs the seriousness of my words. He does not respond, and I am honestly surprised he did not just lie to me just to get what he wanted. I was not stupid enough to think his silence as agreement, and yet I was so eager to see what he would do, to feel him against me, even though I knew his touch would be nothing but attempts to hurt me as hard as he possibly could. It however set a ripple of excitement down to my core. I quickly decided I was ready to be hurt and began to bring my hands up to his left arm. I quirk a brow up, asking, "may I then?"

He again does not respond, but this time, I say, "I will assume you agreed with me, darling."

It work on untying one of his hands. His arm tenses under my touch.

It does not take long before someone catches me in the act and scolds harshly, "OI! DO NOT UNTIE HIM!"

"Or what, Fredson? You'll kill me? He'll kill me?" I chuckle, "good. I cannot stand your snoring."

"Captain!" someone tattles.

There is a moment of commotion then Gorm, fuming, shouts, "YOU WILL NOT UNTIE HIM!" He begins to storm over from the far end of the ship, "I will cut his arm off if you do!"

Continuing to work on the bind, almost fully untying it, I mutter, mostly to myself, "I don't understand how that is a threat to me."

By the time Gorm manages to get here, it's too late. The Targaryen scum already darted his hand to me and struck me across the face with all his might, or at least what was left of it from being tied up so long. Make no mistake he was still strong though, as I literally went spinning on my heels, seeing stars.

Next thing I knew, I was barely conscious yet conscious enough to feel his hot breath against my cheekbone. He had me pressed against him, his arm was around me, choking my neck.

I whine, breathless, bothered, increasingly turned on. I lick my lips and taste blood. I moan after I hear him mutter in High Valyrian, "you are a fool in thinking I would not hurt you."

I barely manage to wheeze out a chuckle, "I wanted you to hurt me."

He does not respond to this as Gorm is barking out multiple long threads of threats, demanding his attention. The rest of the crew is circled around the us, ready to watch whatever is going down next.

The man holding me captive barks, "do you doubt that I could break her neck?"

"No, but think she would enjoy it," Gorm retorts, face contorting.

I choke out a chuckle but it ends with a cough. The blood on my philtrum sprinkles in front of me because of it.

"I may not be bright, but neither are you for thinking you can get anything out of killing her other than yourself getting killed right after," Gorm states.

The Targaryen quickly realizes the rashness of his actions, agreeing internally he was getting nothing out of this. It was especially clear to him or, perhaps the exact opposite of clear, when he was hit from behind, effectively getting knocked out again.

Instantly, my chokehold is freed and I inhale sharply, coughing out in my hasty attempts to catch my breath.

After my lightheadedness faded a bit, I look up and find Aldora to be my savior. With her angry expression, she heaves as she grips a rock, knelt atop of a barrel. She drops the stone to the floor and makes a face at me, "still into him, love?"

I straighten myself up and watch as blood drips form the Targaryen's forehead, "are you doubting me?"

Aldora growls in annoyance and storms off yet again.

I lick what's left of the blood on my lips and turn to Gorm, who is glaring at me in distaste. I tilt my head to the the other light haired man, "unbind him."

"You fucking-"

"We're nearing our destination. We can't possibly leave him tied up, bleeding, and dirty," I retort, "and as you said just now, you are not bright enough to understand most things, so instead of using your head, use your hands to do as I say."

Gorm grips his fists tightly and clenches his jaw. I stare at him, awaiting his compliance. He does just that, albeit begrudgingly, and once he moves, I walk off and mutter, "by the way, tell Ahern it's his turn to be captain now."

When the captive finally woke up after yet another brutalizing, he was met with darkness, or rather, he quickly gathered, a dark prison cell.

"Good, you're awake," I smiled, looking over to him from the other side of the cell where I sat, "again."

The man that was sitting with his arms on his lap when realized he had something on his head.

"It's the last of the ice that hadn't melted yet," I tell him, hand through the wooden bars, holding a wrapped chunk of ice to his skull, "it helps with these injuries. Though since you're supposedly a dragon, perhaps this is uncomfortable for you."

He groans, slowly turning to me.

I pull my hand away, only to bring the ice down to his lap, "once again, you tired my arm."

He turns to the ice and places it back on his head as he moves to stand. I rise too, much quicker than he, then purse my lips in a small smile, "come now. Honor our deal. I should like know what to moan out next time you think to choke me."

He finally stands, his free hand slamming on the bars as he got his footing, "I am a prince of house Targaryen, you mad wench!"

I knit my brows at him, "I'm thinking you might not be as smart as I gave you credit for. I asked for your name, not your title."

"Let me out of this cell and I swear I will spare you to annoy another sorry bloke on your next expedition," he grunts.

I make a sound in thought, half faux-thinking about it, half enjoying how quickly his lips loosened after taking another hit, "I don't like that deal," I decide, instead showing him the elixir I had in hand, "how about you tell me your name and I give you this."

He leans against the bars, looking out at me.

"It's moonshine."

He pulls away, instantly uninterested.

"Mėnulio distira," I mutter, renaming it, or rather calling it for what it is, "it's used now to help women with labor pains, but it was first made-"

"Made to help warriors heal from their battle wounds," he continues, interested again, "where did you get that?"

"You have no sense for bartering, Targaryen scum," I reply to him in his mother tongue.

He discards the melted block he held, and leans both his hands on the bars, peering down at me, "Daemon Targaryen," he starts, "Prince of Dragonstone."

I raise my brows at that, chuckling, "an ambitious title to covet, Daemon."

He words out carefully, as if each syllable that left his was laced in flames, "I am heir to the iron throne."

"Ooooh," I blow out and end with a giggle, "that would have been true had the king not named his daughter, Rhaenyra, successor."

Daemon's face darkens at that. His ears ring upon realizing there was knowledge of this on the ship, and yet nothing of him. He suddenly felt as though he was toyed with.

I coo at him, "find no offence in my lack of knowledge of you, Daemon. -"

"I am your prince!"

"- I only know of this news because it was so exciting that a woman would succeed after a long line of raggedy old fucks."

Daemon seethes with venom, yet a sardonic smirk adorns his lips, "and you think my niece will empower impertinent, common whores like you?"

My jaw tightens at that. I lick my lips, pressing my tongue on my top front teeth, "it's funny how you wish to taint me by calling me a whore, and yet," I release an airy chuckle, "it's men like you that degrade women to be perceived as such. It's your filthy, little cock that is devaluing."

It's his turn to laugh, "you act as if," he steps closer, hands going to his side, "you were not so eagerly lusting after my" he raises his brows, "filthy, little cock moments ago."

I choke on my saliva as I laugh.

Daemon watches me and cannot hold back the curving of his lips.

I slap my hand on my chest as I attempt to catch my breath, "you are the most amusing man I have ever met."

"I am closer to the gods than man," he retorts, "you'd be wise to remember, bitch."

"You know," I raise a hand at him, "out of all the kinks and the thousand ones I have, this is the only one I don't."

The man smirks, leaning down to see my face clearer, "worry not, I'll break it into you."

I smile back at him, raising the vial in my hand, "I like a challenge," then throw the object to him.

He catches it with ease and looks up at me with a calculating gaze.

Before I could tell him anything else though, Gorm comes thundering down towards us, "that bastard better be alive, or else he'll be food for the kraken."

"Gorm!" I chirp, smiling at the blonde man stomping over, "he's well awake, but just to make sure everything goes smoothly during dinner, I gave him the elixir."

"You fucking what?" Gorm does a double take, raising a hand.

Daemon, in this moment, looks at the bottle in his hand and begins to waive his doubts on it.

I shake my head and shrug, "we can't really use him if he's fucked up in the head, now can we?"

Gorm breaks into a fit and releases a string of Norse cusses. I raise my hands in an attempt to calm him. I don't manage to place my palms on his shoulder as he raises his own and fists them, growling in frustration. He darts his hands to the bars and growls, "give me the vial!"

Daemon, at this point, uncorked the vial and downs the liquid in one go.

In that moment, Gorm sighs, releasing all the tension in his body, defeated. "May I?" I mutter as he nods on instinct. I place a hand on his shoulder and smile up at him, "I told you. There's nothing to worry about."

Gorm takes a moment to respond before breaking into a chuckle, "you're too cunning for your own good. What if he dies before we manage to break into Suston's treasury?"

Daemon knits his brows upon hearing that.

"I'm pretty sure he won't cause delay since he's adamant about being a prince and all. It's his death anyway."

"His death?" Daemon repeats, "who's death?"

Gorm looks over to him, as do I, then knits his brows, "what? Was I the one that drank the poison willingly?"

Daemon's eyes quickly dart to me. I turn to Gorm, chuckling, "stop pretending to be witty when you're nervous this dinner will last half a day long."

"Well it could!" he whines and groans simultaneously.

I make a face at that, just as Daemon asks in High Valyrian, "did you fucking feed me poison?"

Gorm looks at him, stupidly and annoyed, "what did he say?"

"He asked me if I fed him poison."

Gorm scoffs, "you drank the poison yourself, Targaryen scum."

Daemon's eyes flicker over to Gorm, tenfold not enjoying how the insult rolled off his tongue. It was poison all along. Daemon shoots me a look, sighing, releasing an angry string of curses, to which I give a soft smile and shrug.

"Calm yourself, pet. As you've overheard you have half a day until it actually does anything. In the meantime, you can help us if you want to get the antidote."

He replies in his native language, "what makes you think I'd be willing to do anything you tell me to do?"

I blink at him and shrug again, "then die."

Gorm begins breaking a sweat, "but you said the King-"

"There'll be no way for the King to know who poisoned him. Unless he gets smart and finds something on this ship distinct enough to bind to us."

"Like your pretty necklace," Daemon notes, eyeing the jewelry around my neck. He leans on the bars.

I look down to my chest and find myself chuckling, "but you said it was stolen."

"But you said it wasn't," he retorts, "regardless, at this point, many have seen you in your flashy accessory." The prince sticks his hand out through the bars and I smile. He is more cunning than what he let on.

I don't hesitate and yank the jewelry off me, throwing it over to him. He again catches the object easily and observes the rock on a golden chain, swearing to himself for the nth time since first seeing it on the piece of jewelry that he's seen it before, and yet he cannot recall where.

"Now that all's fair," I sigh, "I'll let you out of your cage and-"

"Wait, how is all fair?!" Gorm asks, face souring in confusion.

"Gorm!" I sigh, "He just agreed to help us, since he can't do anything anyway. I gave him the necklace so that if we let him die, the king will find a way to find us," I turn to Daemon, "if they manage to find his body."

"But we won't let him die!" Gorm retorts, "he's got too much leverage on us!"

I roll my eyes, exasperated, moving to unlock his cell, "I'll explain it to you when you're older."

"Do not be so comfortable with the idea of riding with her," Ahern says, arms crossed, as he adjusts the straps on the horse Daemon is mounted on.

He, who was on the steed, now clean and in fresh, noble attire, looks down at the man and gives nothing but a blank expression, "don't be so bothered by the idea of me riding her."

Ahern snaps his gaze onto him, "you fucking cunt-"

"Why is he on the horse?" I ask, dropping the skirt I held, giving both men a look of annoyance.

Daemon, in this moment, became acutely aware of the scenery. The ship, Daemon learned was named Jocelyn, was resting in the dock. The sun was setting yet again, creating this warm orange atmosphere. I was no longer in trousers and a dress, instead, I was in a deep red dress, with the neckline dipping teasingly, deliciously low. Usually, my necklace would be the cynosure of my outfit, but it was currently in the Targaryen scum's pocket.

"I am your husband," Daemon recounts that detail of the plans we made, "I would not insult my lady wife by letting her do all the work."

I narrow my eyes, ignoring him, "where is my carriage, Ahern?" I ask the red head, making him avert his gaze elsewhere. He clears his throat and starts, "well..."

"Well?"

"We lost it."

"You lost my fucking carriage?"

Ahern finally turns to me and bursts, "it was Gorm's fault! I've only just been captain today! He said there was an issue in the stables and some thieves came and-"

My sigh cuts him off. Rolling my eyes, I turn to the man propped on the horse, observing the careful look he had, "I should do the work since my husband and my men have no idea what they're doing."

Daemon's lips smirk as he extends his hand out to me, "you need only tell me where to steer my steed."

I stare at him for a long moment, shaking my head as his lips curve deeper, "pull me up, my lord husband."

His stomach ignites at that, twice as much as arms wrapped around him. In fact, his entire body was churning ever since that moment.

When we arrived to our destination, a private banquet held by Magnus of house Suston in his estate, I changed character, holding my head up with grace, practically skating instead of walking.

Daemon could not mask his astonishment of me, though he was trying quite hard to. From the way I unmounted the horse, to how I casually greeted every servant we passed, it was clear to me he was taken aback by how easily I played the part.

And so dramatically, just before we entered the banquet hall, Daemon grabs my arm and pulls me close to him to a stop, "who the in the name of the gods are you?"

I look up at him then to the hand he had on me. Daemon turns to the skin he was holding then releases me. I clench my jaw, clicking my tongue, bringing my hands to his face, "may I, husband?"

He knits his brows, still seemingly unable to understand my need to continuously ask for permission before touching him. Still, his face softens, then he says, "I am yours, wife."

I brush my hands on his cheeks, gently, tracing the curve of his jaw, "I told you as we recounted our plans for tonight on the ship that I was invited as a lady of an esteemed house. Once I put a dress on such as this, I am just that," I pull a smile, "which is why I will not cut your finger off."

Daemon is not satisfied with the answer.

I sigh, pulling my hand away, "I thought perhaps you would have figured out by now, since you have my necklace in your pocket," I begin to walk off, eyes still locked in Daemon's, "I am the heir of house Rubin."

Daemon's jaw loosens at that, that's why the crest looked familiar.

I smirk, knowing well that his shocked expression was due to the fact the very house I was speaking of has not stood for about as long as I have been alive. Or at least, not in any way that counts.

"Lady Rubin!" the man, who was seated at the head of the table exclaims the moment we walk in the banquet hall.

I smile at him, "sir Magnus Suston!"

I walk over to him, forcing back a look of disgust at his eagerness. I stop a few steps early since he took it upon himself to walk over and raise his hand out to me.

Daemon watches as I uncomfortably take his hand. Magnus places a kiss on my skin a second too long that I rip my hand away.

He is unbothered as his eyes dart to the man by my side, "and who might this be?"

I turn over to Daemon, "this, sir Magnus," I turn back to him, "is my prince husband," I pull my smile wider, "of house Targaryen."

Magnus' face falls as he releases a gasp, utterly baffled, "y-your grace! Your majesty!" He breaks into a loud and nervous chuckle, "I was unaware you would be gracing our company tonight. I-I-I am honored by your presence."

Daemon hums, annoyed by his squeaking, "yes. My lady insisted on honoring her visit to your," he looks around the place, "dwelling. Yet it was beneath me to allow my wife visit a man in these hours by herself. Impertinent of you to ask for her presence at this time, don't you agree?"

"Ye-yes, of course," he starts, fidgeting, "I was completely unaware the lady was wed, I-"

"Thought you had a chance with her?" Daemon blurts, raising a brow.

"I- I-" Magnus attempts to start but could not possibly continue with how absolutely petrified he was under the prince's gaze.

The prince turns to me, uncaring of the other person, "shall we sit?"

I give him a smile as he pulls the chair out for me.

Magnus mutters something about us sitting and making ourselves comfortable but it's all incoherent, and his words only become clear once Daemon is sat down next to me, "tis not Marcus, your eminence... but Magnus."

Daemon turns man across him, face completely uninterested and annoyed.

Magnus tugs on his collar with his finger, clarifying, "my name, your grace."

"Does it matter how I refer to a low born?" Daemon asks, leaning against the chair, raising his nose.

I purse my lips at that, turning to my side, crooning out, "my love."

The sound is ineffable and absolutely delicate to Daemon's ears. He was unable to hold in his surprise, nor the chuckles that came after. He clears his throat in an attempt to calm himself, "my apologies, my love," he continues in High Valyrian, "but he's got his head too far up his arse for a peasant, no?"

"He is not a peasant since he now owns a large expanse of land," I retort in the same tongue.

"Well, he won't for much longer anyway," Daemon replies, turning to the empty cups before him. He reverts back to our common language, "will you not serve me wine, Mark?"

Magnus shoots up from his chair, taking a jar of wine and circling over to pour Daemon a cup. He then moves to pour me a drink, but Daemon promptly blocks him, hand covering the cup, "will you not even ask her if she wants wine? She could be with bearing my child for all you know."

I turn to Daemon's enraged look, pressing my thighs together under my skirt before consequently crossing them over each other.

"I- ah," Magnus starts, reeling backward, "apologies my lady, I-"

"She is not your lady," Daemon retorts, face twisting at the man's trembling squeaks. The prince lowers his gaze upon me, expression calming but a fraction, "would you like a glass of wine, my love?"

I break into a smile, "might I just drink from your cup instead?"

He wastes no time. He grabs his cup and hands it over to me. With my lips curved in a smile, I take the object from him, and after taking a sip, handed it back to Daemon, who promptly downed it contents. Upon placing the cup back on the table, he looks over his shoulder, annoyed by the lingering presence, "you stand there and yet we have no food on the table still."

Magnus' eye twitches as he grips the pitcher with much force. He scurries off back to his seat and paces back and forth, unknowing if he should sit or run off somewhere, "my deepest apologies, your grace. Usually my servants do not take this long."

And as if on cue, there is a piercing shriek from the distance.

Magnus gasps, already on edge, completely taken aback by the noise. He stutters, sitting down tensely, "wha-t- what was that?"

Daemon takes his cowardly expression, noticing him shiver. He raises his brows, "is that not one of your help? Are you so stupid to not even know where the sound is coming from?"

Magnus covers his head in fear as there is a loud crashing sound followed by grunts and more shouts. He turns to us, looking for some sort of comfort, but is met by only my stoic gaze and Daemon's vexed one.

All at once then, the banquet hall's doors burst open with a loud sound, and Gorm, followed by the rest of our crew walks in with plates of food. The tall blonde stills when he sees the shriveled up man of the house, "you still haven't killed him yet?"

Magnus grips his chest as he involuntarily stands and screams, "WHO ARE YOU!? What have you done to Helena?!"

Gorm, who was holding an entire pot of what I assume was stew, moves to place the food on the table and draw his sword. Upon doing so, Magnus runs over to the wall in fear. He halts where a sword was mounted. He grabs it and screams, holding it up in his defense, "get out of my house! All of you! GET OUT!"

Gorm walks over to the terrified man, ready to behead him, but he is stopped my Daemon, who quickly stands, "no." The Targaryen turns to him and raises his hand, wordlessly asking for Gorm's weapon.

Gorm looks down on the shorter prince, then scoffs.

"Give it to him, Gorm," I say.

Magnus' breath hitches, seemingly only now realizing what was happening, "you treacherous whore! You brought them here?!"

Daemon turns to Magnus as the latter screams with tears staining his face, "and, what? This is the prince of the realm? You lying piece of-" he is unable to end his words, as he broke into a shriek as Daemon went upon him. Magnus attempts to swing at him, but Daemon quickly knocks the sword out of his hand and promptly ends the squeaks by beheading.

Blood splutters as the body drops to the floor. Daemon makes a disgusted face as he turns back to me. He walks over, handing Gorm his bloody sword. Once he's sat back down, he looks around the room and calls, "where's the fucking food?"

The crew trickle in, laying the food that was prepared by the now dead servants onto the table. Daemon wastes no time in digging in.

I watch as he stuffs his mouth with chicken and say, "you enjoyed that."

"He's a squeaky son of a bitch," he responds in High Valyrian, ripping off a leg of chicken with his hands, placing it on my empty plate.

I look at the food and break into a smile, "thank you."

"Eat up, for I will tire you tonight, wife," he continues in his native tongue, nonchalant, not even looking at me.

I chuckle, propping my hands on the table, ignoring everything else but the eating prince beside me, "I was under the impression you would be leaving the moment we were done."

Daemon swallows the food in his mouth then grabs a piece of cloth on the table, wiping his fingers on it, "I did this much as your lord husband," he turns to me, "might as well claim all that's left of mine."

"I belong to no one, Targaryen scum," I smirk, responding in High Valyrian. He mirrors my expression as I continue, "you will find that your armor and your sword is on the horse we rode on a while ago," I then reach into my top, fingers slipping between my breasts.

Daemon watches my actions intently, hands tightening into a fist.

"All that's left is this," I say, pulling out a vial, "it's a bit warm, having stayed under my breast all night. I hope you don't mind."

He watches as I place the object in front of him, speaking again in his native tongue, "dragons prefer warmth." Daemon stares at the small thing for a moment, then turns back to me, wordlessly examining my face.

After a few moments pass, he brings his hands up, then mutters, in the same language, "may I?"

I nod.

Daemon brushes the back of his hand on my collarbones, making me release a breath at the gentle action. His eyes are stuck on my skin, my own are stuck on his lips. I feel my body burn in warmth as his hands make it to my nape, where his fingers begin to dig into the root of my hair, "you should be more cautions."

I lean against his hand, silently looking at him, as he continues, "House Rubin has fallen decades ago."

The forming smile on my lips falter as he suddenly withdraws from me.

He thinks I'm an imposter. How daft of him.

Still, I cannot help but release an airy chuckle at the look he gives me. I push my shoulders back, "does it matter if a pirate falsifies claims?"

He smirks, then tuts, "oh doe. Any wolf would know you are the very ruby of that house," he brushes the back of his hand on my cheek, making my stomach swirl, "how many souls must have perished to ensure your survival." His hands then move down my neck. He presses his palms flush against my throat, fingers fiddling with my jaw, "and how many more will follow in attempts to covet the very ruby in my hands."

Daemon grows excited, feeling the pulse under his thumb quicken.

Swiftly then, he pulls away then inquires in High Valyrian, "how do I know this won't finish the job?"

Skin still so aware of the feeling of his hand on my neck, I take a moment to realize what he means. I turn to where he was looking and let out a hmp, "how do you know if I even poisoned you truly to begin with?"

Daemon smiles, drawing his hand out again. I anticipated his touch, and yet the tease places it on the table, "you remind me of Caraxes."

"Your dragon?" I ask, just as he moves for the elixir and hands it over to me. He does not speak a word and only stares at me.

I knit my brows, "what? Do you want me to drink it?"

He purses his lips at that, seemingly agreeing.

I raise my brows, taking the object, uncorking it, "and then what? There'll be nothing left for you, moron," I then break into a chuckle, "unless you want me to put it in my mouth and spit it into yours."

Daemon smirks, leaning onto the table as he continues in High Valyrian, "then at least we'll be poisoned together."

I am unable to hold in my laughter, "you're fucking crazy."

Daemon raises his brows.

I stand and step forward, "may I then?"

"So long as I keep getting to touch you," he responds, pushing his chair back. He spreads his legs and rubs his hands on his lap, beckoning me over. I respond my pulling my skirt up and placing a knee on his lap. I bring a hand to his neck and push his head up to me. His hands go to sides and grip tightly on my waist.

I throw my head back, pouring the liquid in my mouth. I close my lips as I lower my head to meet Daemon's. I press my mouth against his, slowly allowing the antidote to trickle onto his tongue. Daemon pulls me down on him and I adjust my legs atop his. He laps his tongue out to my lips, taking in the liquid greedily until there's nothing left but moans in me. It's all very messy as the liquid surely does not all go into his mouth, yet it was so very scrumptious.

"Oh for fuck's sake, get a room," someone calls angrily.

I am abruptly pulled off after this. I barely manage to look at Daemon as he suddenly stands and grabs me, bending down and throwing me over his shoulder.

"They're all fools to think you would not be heard from here," Daemon says, kicking the doors of a room open. It was a great stroke of luck that he found the master bedroom. Not that it mattered, I would let him have me wherever he wanted. And judging by how he threw me onto the bed, I’m certain he thinks the same way.

I sit up on the cushions and watch him as he crawls over to me. His brows quirk at the sight of the blankets, "that squeaky moron has horrible taste."

I waste no time in grabbing his face once he is close enough, placing heated kisses onto his lips. He leans into me, body pressing against mine, hands scratching at the fabric on my back in an attempt to undo my dress.

He pulls away from me so he could work on getting me naked.

I can’t help but laugh at his fervor, “easy, boy, you might hurt yourself.”

I manage to see him clench his jaw before he stands up from the bed and yanks at my corset. He effectively shoves me face down onto the cushion and rips my skirt back so my folded legs were now flat on the surface. He then climbs atop me, groin on my bum, and undoes my laces, ripping it all the way open. Once he’s finished, he digs his nails firmly into my skin in an upward motion, “you will know your place, bitch.”

He moves off me, only to flip me over and climb atop me again. This time around though, he bunches my skirt up and brings his hands in between my thighs, making way for himself in between them.

“I should ruin your pretty little dress, so you won’t be able to use it anymore,” he mutters, pressing his pants on my bare core, earning a moan from me.

I reach my arms out for him as I grunt, “ruin me with your Targaryen seed.”

Daemon brings his hands on either side of my thighs and roughly kneads on my flesh, “you would enjoy that won’t you, little come slut?”

His hands dart to the collar of my dress and he roughly rips it off, causing me to grunt. I shift in my spot, raising my arms, wriggling out of the fabric as he pulls it over my head. For a moment, I am caught in the expanse of my own skirt, then I am fully stripped beneath him. Right after throwing my dress off to the side, my hands work on undoing his breeches, but I am so rudely slapped away.

I give him a pointed look, but it falters after he catches my wrists and pins it over my head with his hands, “I am your prince husband. You are subservient to my mercy.”

His face is close to mine when he says this and so I give an open-mouthed moan, “fuck me good, prince husband, I beg.”

He chuckles. He keeps my wrists under one hand and brings his free one down my face, “so eager,” his palm rests on the side of my neck, “perhaps I shall take you back with me and wife you in Dragonstone.”

Taking this moment of tenderness to my advantage, I attempt to free my hands under his. However, I find that I underestimated his strength. His one hand on my wrists pull my limbs upward, making me whine. He clicks his tongue, “you don’t like that?” Daemon’s other hand runs firmly down from my neck to my core where he then rubs on my soaking folds, “you would prefer to be my come whore, hmm? Such a lowly dream”

He hisses, as do I, when he pushes two fingers in me, “your cunt belongs to me now. You will not be able to have anyone else’s cock but mine.”

I chuckle at his words, “you’re a lot of talk for someone so opposed to the idea of me undressing him.”

Daemon’s eyes darken. He shoves himself off me and kneels, “undress me, then, whore.”

I take in his looks, his expectant gaze, the hardened length beneath his trousers, and yet I cross my arms, “no.”

“No?” he repeats harshly, although there was no trace of anger in his voice. It was in fact of excitement.

“I will not submit to a man who perceives me to be a lesser version of him.”

“Ah,” he chuckles, removing his shirt by himself, “I remember your distaste for this, my dear ruby,” he throws his shirt aside and I lick my lips at the sight of his toned chest, “you are right not to enjoy these words when they came out of the mouths of all the trolls that fucked you before me.

“But like I said,” he grabs my hand from my chest, continuing in High Valyrian, “I’ll break it into you.” He pulls me up, bringing my palms to his waist, “strip me, while you still can.”

I sit up, fingers digging into his garment, replying in his language as I lick my lips, “or else what, Targaryen scum?”

“Or else you won’t be able to do anything with your hands at all.”

I groan at the thought, feeling my stomach roll. My hands then dart up to his face and I heatedly kiss him, savoring the taste of his tongue. My fingers travel back down, fiddling with the string of his clothes. I take a moment to nibble on his lower lip before I pull away and lie back down with my arms over my chest again, “do your worst.”

“You insufferable minx,” he quips proceeding then to climb off the bed. For a moment, I am confused and a little concerned, but then I see him rip at the tassel of the drapes, carelessly bringing the window’s cover to the floor. He winds the rope in his hand as he draws closer to me, “turn over.”

I bite my lips and cross my legs, “no.”

Daemon laughs, darting for my ankle, yanking me towards him, “turn over, my pretty little whore.”

“Fuck you,” I retort.

He wastes no time and roughly grabs me, flipping me over himself. My body is buzzing at the feeling of his rough hands on my bum.

“Not at this rate, you’re not,” Daemon replies, hands grabbing my arms, forcing them behind me, tying them with the rope still attached to the curtain that was dangling near the bed helplessly. He then pulls my hips up, bringing me on my knees. My face pressed on the bed as he climbs behind me and fiddles with my heat, “so deviant for no reason,” he notes in his language.

His fingers tease my entrance, and my voice betrays me because of it, “you—enjoy it.”

He laughs again, pumping two digits in and out of me, “not as much as you.”

Daemon feasts on the lewd sounds, absolutely basking in the slickness dripping from his fingers. He positions his free hand on my hip, digging his nails in my flesh roughly. He focuses on my heat around his fingers and quickly eases in an orgasm. I let out a pained grunt when he withdraws before I could come though. Although I was expecting it from him, I still bark in anger, “Targaryen scum.”

He tuts, rubbing my back, “come now…” he teases, “you didn’t expect to be rewarded for your insolence.”

“I can fuck myself better with my fingers."

Daemon laughs, “I’m sure from now on you’ll imagine they were mine.” He then brings his wet fingers to my mouth, wanting me to lick them clean. For the most part, I do, but he yelps when I bite down. I lick my lips after he pulls away, smirking in victory.

He grabs me by the hair, pulling me all the way until I'm upright. I whine in pain, yet feeling my body burn in excitement. He mutters hotly against my ear, “let’s put that mouth of yours to good use.”

He shoves me down and I hear him work on his pants. I roll over, grunting as with my arms still bound behind me. I chuckle, “who’s eager now?”

Daemon’s length springs free. The idea of him burying himself in me makes my breath hitch. He discards his pants to the side, “you won’t be so verbose after I burn my seed down your throat.”

I stick my tongue out and giggle.

In all his strength, he rearranges me like a doll. He gets me on my knees and sits in front of me, wordlessly commanding me to do his bidding. I obey and take him in my mouth eagerly. His hand is controlling the bobbing of my head and I feel utterly pleased with myself upon hearing his satisfied grunts. After relishing in his profanities, I begin to constrict him in my teeth.

He whines, “less teeth, viper.”

I use more teeth.

His grip on my hair tightens but his arm movement still.

I begin to laugh, but he’s so big that I can’t, so I begin to choke.

Daemon revels in the feeling for a moment, pushing himself deeper into my mouth before ripping me off him, allowing me to catch my breath. I heave as he brings my ruined face up to meet him eye to eye. His other hand grips my jaw, “if you will not obey, I will come in your cunt and leave you bound and unsatisfied.”

I lick my lips, head banging at the pain he was eliciting from all the hair pulling, “you would risk leaving a baby dragon inside me?”

I smirk at him, whining as he pulls my head back slowly. It seems I hit a chord as Daemon’s face is unreadable. Suddenly, he releases his grip and shoves me down. He claws at my legs then presses my knees to my breast. All at once, I am a loud moaning mess as he enters me without another word and beats into me without a break of pace.

The sound of skin hammering against each other is overpowered by my screams of pleasure. If I had known that what it took to get him going, I would have lead with that.

Daemon pistons himself in an angle so sweet that I can feel a fire so hot build in my belly. His lips are latched on my neck, sucking, biting, licking. Overly sensitive already, it doesn't take long until I uncoil beneath him and his brutality.

I am reeling, absolutely spent, utterly boneless beneath him, loosing my breath all over again.

He does not relent however, and I whine in a mix of both pain and pleasure at his lack of courtesy for me to come down from my high. I quake beneath him, repeating his name like a prayer, unsure if I wanted him to stop or keep fucking me raw.

My throat begins to burn at my obscene sounds that left my lips. I barely manage to hear him as he speaks to me

“They say a pleasured wife brings forth a male heir,” Daemon jaggedly mumbles, “will you be a dutiful lady wife and spawn me a son?”

My head is spinning at his words. Too keen on chasing this rebuilding high however, I spew out words in the heat of moment, “yes. Fuck yes. Burn your seed into me. Put a child in me, Daemon.”

“Good girl,” he praises, kissing my jaw, “your cunt is so eager for me, wife, do you feel it?”

My only response is my filthy groans.

My eyes are flooded by tears when I finally come around him for the second time. Daemon wastes no time and follows. He digs himself balls deep into me, shooting out every bit of himself inside. The feeling is so hot, I could barely feel my legs around him nor how my toes curl.

I relish in the feeling of his weight on top me. My arms behind me hurt twice as much as I remember I cannot even touch him.

“You will not move an inch, slut,” he mutters after catching his breath. He pulls away from me and I whine at the action, not enjoying the emptiness that came after. I watch him as he goes about the room and collects his clothes. He begins to dress himself and I stupidly look at him as he mutters, “if you do not fall with child, I will consider it treason.”

Once he is clothed, he walks over to me and turns to my legs. He pushes them together. I squeak when he digs his hands on my leaking core and presses a kiss on my belly, “you’re wasting my seed.”

With that, he gives me one last look and walks away.

Many moons had passed since then. It was almost as long as the years since the prince has been away from his home.

Daemon decided not to recount this encounter with pirates to a single soul, not even to Lord Corlys, who was enraged by his absence and began to believe he had forsaken him in their battle in The Stepstones. He played off his lack of appearance as with vague reasons of failed outsourcing, already irritated by the idea of people gossiping about how he was captured by a bunch of slow witted pirates had he told him the truth. Corlys obviously did not buy it, but he had no time to press on about the matter as the issue with the Crab Feeder was more imminent.

Daemon wonders what became of his captor after killing that Suston man. He would look at the ruby necklace he kept on him from time to time, wondering when he could use it to his capture his captor in return. He had yet to also make use of the fact the pirate claimed to be a Rubin, a house that was dissolved during the height of a war in their region. That, and he was owed a son.

"You look deep in thought, uncle," Rhaenyra notes walking over to him. Daemon had his feet up in the table and his back slumped on the chair as he chewed on some grapes.

He responds to the princess in High Valyrian, "I'm merely enjoying my time back home."

Rhaenyra chuckles, walking closer, "I did not know you were fond of this place."

Daemon watches as she sits down next to him and asks, "tell me about your adventures in the Stepstones."

He shakes his head, "what is there to tell but the fact there was blood and loss, before our eventual victory."

"Come now," she smirks leaning in, "they sing your name great praises and even gave you a title, yet you cannot think to tell me much more than that?"

"War is not a dazzling story, princess," he turns to her, giving a smirk, "you would be wise to be a benevolent Queen."

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes and shakes her head, muttering in her native speech, "the irony of my uncle telling me this."

"But you enjoy my irony, don't you, my niece," Daemon chuckles in response in the same tongue, bringing his hand to her head, ruffling her hair playfully.

She swats at his hand and shoves Daemon off with narrowed eyes, "well if you will not speak to me of your battles, tell me then if it is true you had an encounter with pirates."

Rhaenyra watches his face grows stoic as he mutters, "they were all pirate, girl."

"No," she shakes her head, "I overheard the servants speak about you dealing with a crew who had women onboard. They say you were turned away after asking them for help."

Daemon straightens up as he laughs, not even taking a moment to wonder how anyone even knew this, "more like I turned from them after they'd forced help out of me."

"So it's true, then!" her voice goes a pitch higher in excitement, "you had encounters with women pirates."

Daemon takes her expression in, "does that please you, Rhaenyra?"

"I think it's exciting to know there are fearsome individuals out there who bleed every month just as I."

Daemon blows out a breath that bubbles out into a fit of chuckles. He grabs a few more grapes, eating some, throwing one at his companion, "you're all fucking mad."

Rhaenyra narrows her eyes at her uncle yet again, "you mean all women? We're all mad?"

"Yes," he stands, smoothing out his pants, "but then again if I bled every month I think I would be so as well."

"My Prince," a voice calls, and Daemon turns to the guard who interrupt the laugh he was sharing with his niece, "Lord Corlys has requested your presence."

Daemon's mood does a total 180, "he is aware I am not entertaining anyone."

"My apologies your grace, but he insisted that it was urgent. He says it's about House Rubin."

Rhaenyra watches his uncle's face shift. Daemon's mood does yet another 180 and promptly decided to answer to the call.

He quickly regards his niece and heads off right after.

"Lord Corlys," Daemon nods upon entering his chambers, "you have news for me."

"Nothing that either of us don't already know," says Corlys, arms crossed as he stood by the table where the necklace Daemon had lent him was laid out, "the house of Rubin and all its heirs died during a skirmish, leaving their wealth and land ripe for the pickings of whoever stake their claim."

The prince nods, eyes going to the necklace on the table, "and what of this?"

"I've had a jeweler inspect it and he said he knew exactly who designed this and who had it commissioned."

Corlys and Daemon turn to each other as the former says, "it was made in the north by the request of the Lannisters as a gift for the Rubins."

"And yet I found it on the neck of a pirate," Daemon smirks, picking the ruby necklace up.

"It is not surprising, considering house Rubin was most definitely looted after its fall. They were also situated close to sea folk. Our houses once joined hands in the expeditions of the sea. Hearing of their demise was a sad day even for us."

Funny, Daemon thinks.

"Now, tell me what this has to do with the pirate ship that robbed 2 more of my ships blind."

Daemon's lips quirk, "that makes 14," he releases a chuckle, much to Corlys' annoyance. "What if I told you, Lord Corlys, that capturing the captain of that pirate crew could not only grant you satisfaction but could reignite your alliance with the house of Rubin."

Lord Corlys shakes his head, "and why would I want an alliance with a dead house?"

"Perhaps since it was that house that robbed your countless ships blind."

Corlys does not follow. Daemon raised his brows, "the captain is the remaining heir. Why snuff out the last of its remains when you could built it up and use it as an extension of your power. Your men have seen the might of Jocelyn first hand, did they not?"

For a moment, Corlys wonders who Jocelyn is, until he remembers that was the name of the ship. "What makes you think this Rubin-turned-pirate would swear fealty to me?" he raises a brow.

"Willingly? Perhaps not," Daemon smirks, "but is it not so much more fun to break it in?"

"That is not their captain," Daemon speaks.

Corlys instantly gives the order to execute the man with a simple hand gesture. "Yes," he responds, "yet it seems like they're not running out of captains any time soon as each time we capture someone who knows anything about that ship, Jocelyn, they claim to be the captain. Still, that fucking ship is still lurking the sea."

Daemon's lips curve upward, "perhaps they were captain for a while."

The other white haired man knits his brows, "what?"

The prince ignores this, "your error is in assuming their captain would be an ugly man."

"Are you saying the captain is a beautiful woman?"

"I'm saying the captain of the ship is the remaining heir of the house Rubin," he retorts, "you ought to be more careful of how quickly you kill your captives."

Corlys narrows his eyes at this, "does it matter if we restore this supposed 'true heir' when no one would be the wiser if I hailed a stable boy as a Rubin."

"It matters if you want an alliance with a fiery strategist who managed to steal from your ship, not once, but 18 times now, was it-- in broad daylight, or--" Daemon turns to the dead body that was being dragged out, "you want one with a smelly imbecile that's walking dead weight."

"Then what do you suggest I do, my prince," he asks, voice growing irritated.

"Nothing more," Daemon nods, "I'll do it myself."

"Targaryen scum," I smile, voice genuinely excited upon seeing the face of the man walking over to me. "You got a haircut," I say baring the blood on my teeth as I smile, "I am impressed to tell you that it suits you, even though I prefer long hair."

Daemon takes in my appearance, eyes raking over the blood that was on my face and clothes. He turns over to one of the guards, barking, "did you do this to her?"

The guard quickly shakes his head, "n-no, your grace. But I was told she did attack and injure multiple men."

Daemon's anger is calmed after this, though his face makes no change, "leave us."

Once it was only him, I, and the chains on the wall that I was bound to, he steps forward, licking his lips as he brings his hands up to my face, "may I?"

I look up at him, lips curving into a smile, "you may."

Daemon pushes back the hair that was stuck on my skin with sweat, tucking it behind my ears. He then begins in High Valyrian, "you could not resist me, could you?"

I lean against his hand as he places both of them on my cheeks. I pout, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Daemon chuckles, fingers gently pulling away from my face, "did you not hear about my presence in the Stepstones and purposefully hijacked those Velaryon ships..." he hums, "perhaps out of spite?"

I screw my eyes shut as I break into a hearty laugh, "out of spite over what, pray tell?"

"Leaving you tied up in bed," he mutters, placing his hands behind his back.

"And I am bound now as we speak, yet I share laughter with you," I raise my brows, "must a pirate really explain their motive for stealing?"

"Perhaps not," Daemon responds, turning down to my belly. He presses a hand on it, "how has your womb been?"

I chuckle, "it seems your seed is defective," I narrow my eyes, "there was so much of it in me, and yet nothing came forth from it."

He grabs my face with both hands again, "worry not. I will wife you up again soon enough."

Upon his mention, I recall a detail I learned that angered me. I clench my jaw, replying in High Valyrian, "perhaps it was precisely because you had an actual lady wife at the time that your own seed was against your wishes to get me pregnant."

Daemon chuckles, pulling his hands away, "jealous?"

"No." I respond, "I pity your bride that you treated so poorly."

The prince rolls his eyes, "oh, don't worry, my dear ruby, for the ugly beast has since been relieved of her duties upon her trip to the underworld."

"Fucking Targaryen scum."

Daemon watches my expression grow dark then chuckles, "are you not excited to perform your duties to me?"

"That's why you had my crew gutted?" I bark back, "were you to stupid that you not have tried to get me yourself?"

"It was not my failed attempts to capture the captain, but Corlys Velaryon. He did not take kindly to the fact you stole a handsome sum from him, which is why he made sport of killing Jocelyn's crew."

"Well, he's got the captain now," I say.

Daemon nods, "Indeed, she is here."

"Whatever he wants, I'll do, so long as you spare my remaining crew."

For a moment, Daemon is a bit disappointed by the admittance to defeat, however he understands soon enough.

"There's not much of us left," I mumble, "Aldora, Ahern, Gorm, Fredson, Charles, Th--" I cut myself off as my throat begins to tighten. "There's not point in fighting if we all end up dead."

"Smart," Daemon nods, "Lord Corlys will be delighted to know this." He then begins to walk off, "in the meantime, pay your dues here until I come for you."

I let out a soft chuckle, replying to him in his mother tongue, "petty scum."

"Targaryen scum," Demon corrects before walking out.

I hadn't expected him to come so soon that night, but then again, if I recall, I did have him out of his chains after sunset.

"Miss me already?" I ask in a teasing tone in High Valyrian, "will you lock me with your dragon next?"

It was a bit too dark for me to make out the figure coming closer, but there was something very off with him. There was something about the slowness and suspicious manner in which he stalked over, apart from the hood he was wearing.

I figured then Daemon would not act like this at all. So it begs the question, why would a guard have to come here dressed like that?

My heart began to quicken as I began to think of what this man's motives were. Still, unwilling to accept the worst, I spoke out in the Prince's language, falsely hoping it was him pulling a twisted joke, "is this your way of getting back at me?"

"What kind of demon language is that supposed to be, you cunt?" the man growls, darting forward, heaving heavily in front of me. He grabs my face, and I see him along with the cut he had going down his cheek to his lips, "remember me, bitch?"

I merely look at him as he forces my jaw open with the intensity of his grip on me.

"You're not so tough now that you're under the Prince's thumb," he seethes, hands coming down my neck, choking me, "since you scarred my face, you whore," one of his hands leaves my throat to go down to my thighs, "I'll make you regret the day you drew your blade."

My wrists and ankles were bound but that did not make me cease my attempts to fight back, though futile. And even though he was choking me, I made it a point to still scream, not caring if he asphyxiates me in the process. Better that than to be docile.

He was basks in my failed attempts to fight him off as he rips my top open and forces my trousers down.

Prince Daemon did not want Lord Corlys to join him on his way to the prison cell today for he so wanted all the attention to himself, especially since he couldn't speak in the privacy of High Valyrian, since Corlys could speak it.

And so together, begrudgingly, the two were making their way to the cell. Daemon had a spring in his step. He was so excited that even before entering the prison, he called out in the other language, "rise and shine, beautiful."

Lord Corlys averted his eyes from the guard who was unlocking the door, giving the prince a questioning look. He truly didn't think much of it however, knowing the prince's irritating nature.

Honestly, Daemon was half expecting an answer, an annoyed retort, and so he received none, he pressed his lips together in disappointment. He added once the door was open, "not in the mood to tease today?"

Corlys walks in first, face dropping in shock at the sight before him.

For but a moment, Daemon feels a rush of possessiveness, thinking Corlys must have been enchanted. He thinks of how he would easily cut off his hand if he so laid a finger on you. However, his own anger dissipated, then doubled upon his entrance to the cell.

I look at the two men, wondering how they were related to distract from how exposed I was. My assaulter did not possibly think to cover my chest nor pull my pants up. There was also a burning feeling between my thighs that I could not bare to look at. Anything other than thinking of how my flesh was surely torn was welcomed.

The prince is beyond livid. The lord beside him appears to be disturbed as well.

"Did you have your men do this to her?!" Daemon barks, turning to Corlys, raising an accusing finger as he pressed so close to him in anger that their chests slammed against the other's.

Corlys throws him an incredulous and angry look, shoving him off, "why would I when you were so clear on making sure the lady came here in one piece?!"

He heaves heavily, ready to attack Corlys, but the sound of my uncontained whine makes him avert his attention to me. Daemon then walks over to me instead, raising his hand out, but the sentiment is so uninvited that I bark out even through my hoarse and broken voice. It was so loud I even surprised myself, "DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME!"

Daemon halts in his tracks before he could go near. His hand drops, tightly turning into a fist, he mutters, "unshackle her."

Corlys does not do anything.

"UNSHAKLE HER NOW!" Daemon shouts, turning to the door, where a guard quickly came running in. The moment the guard nears however, the prince shouts again, "STOP."

The guard freezes, turning over to him with a look of confusion and anxiousness.

"Give me the keys," he demands, pulling the man over to him by his shoulder, then extending his hand out to him. The guard wastes no time in handing the prince the object. Right after, Daemon walks over to me, carefully as if his whole life depended on it. His fingers work on the lock without touching my skin.

Corlys watches as he does this.

The moment one of my arms were free, I crumple, dangling on the other arm that was still bound. Daemon looks down on me as I muffle the whine that comes as I force myself to stand. He quickly moves to the other side, undoing the lock, then crouches down, working on the bounds on my ankles. Once he is done, he rises in front of me, expression hard.

I look up at him before pulling up my pants that were left by my ankles then covered my breasts with what remained of my ragged shirt. He looks like his mind is running with a thousand different things and yet he cannot even bring himself to speak one word to me.

I croak out, hoarse and tired, "now you know why I don't like being touched without consent, Targaryen scum."

Daemon's jaw clenches. His anger multiplies at the notion this has happened once before.

"Lady Rubin," the other man in the room speaks, walking forward.

I turn to him, lips curving in a farce of a smile, "Lord Velaryon." I swallow roughly before muttering, "you, too, were convinced over my characterization yet you have not even seen me in action."

The man looks at me for a moment, examining my expression. He steps forward, untying his cloak, handing it over to me, "will you be able to walk over to the ward to the seen by a maester?"

I look at his extended hand and feel my smile fade, tears building in the corner of my eyes, "of course." I raise my hand to his cloak, gently pushing it away, "lead the way, my lord."

He watches me and withdraws his hand before nodding and tying his cloak back on, "I'm afraid the way there includes an unavoidable flight of many stairs."

"I was not defeated last night, nor will I be defeated by mere steps."

Lord Corlys seems to appreciate my response, and so he turns to prince Daemon, speaking in High Valyrian, "You were right about her fire. She's different from the rest of her crew."

"Thank you, my lord," I reply in the same language, making the man turn to me in slight shock, "I would have appreciated the compliment more had it been directed towards me."

With this, Corlys turns to me, shocked, but impressed. He then shifts where he stood and motioned to the door, then walking off.

I clench my jaw before taking a step. I falter in my actions and am unable to withhold a pained grunt as I do so. It enrages me. I heave heavily. The incident of last night replays in my head uninvited. I will the tears forming in my eyes back where they came and I force through the pain with each step I make.

By the time I make it out of the cell, I see Corlys there, waiting for me. I draw closer to him and it is then I hear a voice behind me, "I will destroy whoever did this to you."

I turn over my shoulder, expecting to see Daemon, but I find no one. When I do manage to spot him, he is already far off in the other side of the hallway.

"The prince was keen on bring you to me," Corlys starts, extending his hand to the direction we needed to travel, "his personal motives are now more apparent to me after seeing how he reacted to you." He begins to walk slowly and I follow after him.

He continues in High Valyrian, "he insisted that instilling you in House Rubin and re-forging an alliance with you as its head will be more beneficial than beheading the captain of ship Jocelyn, who stole ten thousands worth of goods from my vessels."

"It's clear to me the prince does what he wants all the time, but that does not equate to him always getting away with it," I retort, taking a moment to continue, lest I let out a pained whimper, "whether his influence on you will allow me to keep my head or not, all I ask is that you no longer harm whoever's left of my crew. They were only following my orders."

Corlys watches me as I limp in my short strides, then raises a brow, "following the order merits the same punishment of whoever gave it." He places his hands behind him, "they also lied when they confessed to be the captain when they were clearly not."

"I did not ask them to do so."

"A lie is a lie," he says, "Prince Daemon however said that you allowed your crew to take turns giving the order, being the captain for a time."

I clench my jaw, turning to my feet, "they were all born without... it was my way of giving them a taste of power."

I turn to Corlys, but I instantly regret it, for his gaze upon me was most scrutinizing. I turn away just as he tells, "I knew him, the man who you claim to be your father. Estephan Rubin. I would like to say we were friends years ago when he was still alive."

I rub my eyes that were watering in pain.

He continues, "I knew of his four sons and how each of them died in battle, though I repent of not remembering their names. However, my memory does not fail me enough not to know about Rubin having a daughter."

"That makes two of you." I press my lips, turning back to him, "I was told my father died well before I was born. My mother died of child birth."

"Who raised you then?"

"The remaining servants of my house, Agnes, Douglas. They married each other and had children of their own. For a while, I acted like I was their eldest child, but then some lords found out about the origin of birth, and then they--" I shudder, unable to bear the pain of the memory on top of the physical pain I was feeling now. I turn back to my feet, "I was 13 when I ran away and lived off of whatever I could pickpocket."

"Who taught you how to speak this language then?" he asks in High Valyrian.

"You tend to get around when the world is out to get you," I respond, hand coming up to my chest, "what remained of my house, my ruby necklace, it bore the crest of Rubin. I realized all I had to do was be shameless enough when wearing it and people would be willing to do whatever you want."

I turn to Corlys when he halts in his tracks.

"Keep your head then, Lady Rubin," he says, "go forth with your banner, not as a pirate, but as the last of house Rubin and bring me back all twice the amount of which you stole. I swear then I will spare your crew."

I nod, "consider it done," I reply in his mother tongue, extending my hand out to him. He shakes it firmly, beginning to talk about his plans for me as we continue our travel to the maester's room.

[yuyan]

The art of love

Kaveh x gn!reader (highschool au)

Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Tags: artistic/academic reader, bickering, academic rivals to lovers (but art class), Kaveh can't write essays, sumeru classes = honour classes, mild swearing

"Her nose is a little off-centre," you said absentmindedly.

"I know!" Kaveh said, "I'm fixing it."

"Just saying," you said in a sing-song voice.

"Shut up and focus on your own painting."

You let out a laugh and continued painting the hair of your character. Art class would be a peaceful class with the lo-fi music the teacher plays and quiet chattering as ambient noise, if it wasn't for the two of you's constant bickering.

"Thats not how you paint hair," Kaveh said, side-eyeing your piece.

"I'm literally blocking in the shadows. It's nowhere near done," you replied, agitation seeping into your voice.

"Weeeeeeeell, if you ever need help, I'm always here," Kaveh said. The light and cheery tone was clearly mocking you and made you want to pluck his hair out. "After all, I am the only one here who truly likes art," he added, swiping baby pink paint on your right cheek and leaning in so close, you'd kiss if you moved even a millimetre in the wrong direction.

Suddenly, he fell back, off his chair and many eyes gazed at the two of you. You still had your arm extended from when you shoved him away from you and Kaveh was on the ground, a little stunned.

"Aww are you blushing?" Kaveh mocked, referring to the paint still on your cheeks. "You know it's quite rude to push someone, believe it or not, this elite academy's uniform is quite expensive. Though it probably isn't worth a dime in your eyes," he mumbled the last part.

You wiped the paint off your cheeks aggressively while Kaveh picked himself up from the floor.

"You too!" the teacher yelled,"I don't care what's going on between the two of you but it needs to stop, you're both sumeru students for archon's sake!"

"But-" Kaveh dropped his head and just nodded, stopping himself while you simply ignored the teacher and turned to face your painting.

The two of you were the only sumeru students in your art class. Your other "scholarly" classmates had left when they got chance, talking about how "art's a waste of time anyways" or "I have other more important things to do." They probably gave your head teacher so much of a headache that she just let them change. Poor Ms Nahida. Most of the students in your art class were from the mondstat and Inazuma stream with some from Fontaine as well.

"You know you can just quit like all of our other academic classmates, are you just doing art to prove you're better or more cultured than them?" Kaveh asked. "It's no point, they think it's useless and I hate people like you who do it even though they don't like it. Go back to them and receive praise for being top of the class like a dog again." ("Class" refers to the sumeru stream which has roughly 150 students—your grade alone—and is the top 14.29%)

"Who says I don't like art?" you replied coldly.

"Well-"

"If you payed attention in language arts, you'd know it's a rhetorical question," you cut him off. "Anyways, why would I want to go back to them? They're stupid anyways."

"After you finish your painting, please write an essay on it, it'll be 50% of you final grade," the teacher announced.

Kaveh groaned. Hearing the bell ring you packed up and left for lunch.

The cafeteria was bustling with noise. Everyone excitedly talking to their friends, exchanging gossip or complaining about the huge load of work they had. Most sumeru students came into the cafeteria and left, too busy perfecting their assignments or doing an extra research project either for fun or extra credit. It wasn't uncommon to see students score above 95% in the sumeru stream so to be the top of the class

"I'm gonna fail," Kaveh said, slumping across the table.

"I'm sure you won't, art is your best subject after all," Tighnari reassured, eating his lunch.

"We have to write and essay and last time we did that, I just passed!" Kaveh shouted. "It dragged my overall grade to a B!"

"Stop shouting, you're so loud," Alhaithem said, turning the next page if his textbook.

Kaveh's biggest weakness were essays, analytical essays. He could analyse just fine and find the meaning easily but his structure, poor vocab and ability to never know how to write and explain something, led to him only just passing because of his analysing skills. To anyone else in the elite academy, Teyvat high, his skills would actually be quite good but he was in the sumeru stream and to get into a special architecture degree in the university of teyvat, he'd have to suffer in the sumeru stream. Unfortunate.

"Just ask (name), they're in your art class and is top of our grade," Cyno said. "And-"

"If you say one more horrible joke, I'm going to throw you out of this cafeteria," Tighnari warned.

"Fine..." Cyno said.

"Like they'd ever want to help," Kaveh said, "plus, I hate them."

"Don't you have a crush on them?" Alhaithem said.

"Shut up!" Kaveh shouted, "as if!"

Cyno raised one of his eyebrows while Tighnari mumbled a "whatever you say."

"I don't like them like that, they're just..."

~

"Cute? I guess but," you pondered, trying to find the right words.

"Oh so you do like him," Dehya smirked.

"Omg! (Name) has a crush on Kaveh!" Nilou squealed, all giddy. "How cute!"

"As if," you said, rolling your eyes. "And you didn't even let me finish my sentence! I can't find the right words for it," you said, the memory of this morning flashing in your mind. "Annoying? Yes but no...Dumb? No not really...Ah! Obnoxious!"

Your friends' eyes slightly widened, their eyes fixated on whatever or whoever was behind you. Swiftly, you turned around, only to see kaveh.

"Well hello to you too," he huffed.

"What is it?" you asked.

"Could you help me with the art essay and in return I'll... I'll leave you alone?" His heart ached at the sight of the twinkle in your eyes when he mentioned the last part.

You thought back to art class. You had left in such a hurry when the bell rang, you forgot your pencil case. When you had went back to go get it, you heard voices coming from inside the classroom.

"Kaveh, you have to lift your grades," your teacher said. Kaveh merely nodded. "You have so much potential but your writing grade keeps dragging you down, please put an effort to improve it this time?" You saw Kaveh clench his fists as his whole body stiffened. You couldn't see his face but the look on your teacher's was a disappointed one.

You'd seen Kaveh poor his heart into every essay whether in art class or not and he'd always just pass. It was like nothing he did could get him over that C. Stepping back from the doorway, you watched Kaveh come out with hot, angry tear in his eyes. He hadn't even notice you and just stormed off to the cafeteria. As soon as he came out, you went in, greeting the teacher, took your pencil case and left.

The journey to the cafeteria wasn't long but it had you thinking. Should you ask if Kaveh wants help? Or would he see it as condescending? You two clearly weren't on the best terms.

Coming back to reality, you nodded and you saw a soft smile grace Kaveh's lips. "You have my number, does the library after school work for you?" you asked.

"Ah yes," Kaveh said, smiling like an idiot.

You had Kavehs's number since he was friends with your friends and you all exchanged numbers but the encounters after that weren't the most pleasent to say the least.

The day went by fast and with the final ring of the bell, you made your way to the library, shooting Kaveh a text when you reached there. The library was two stories and with endless categories and books from fantasy to ancient languages. You secured a small booth in the corner of the library. It has a whiteboard to the left, a decent table that had a comfortable booth seat on each side.

"Hi," Kaveh greeted.

"Hi, let's start?" you asked.

Kaveh nodded in response.

You two started to plan each of your essays, discussing the meaning behind both you and kaveh's painting. The atmosphere was tense and you held you tongue for the sake of a civil study session. Kaveh accepted each tip you gave him, begrudgingly.

The study break ended 20 minutes ago. Refining your plan, you scribbled notes down to the sound of kaveh's typing. You looked up, only to see Kaveh still texting away. He'd been text for half an hour now and each time you told him to stop, he'd just say "I'm almost done."

"What is so important that has you texting for the last half an hour?" you asked, rather impatiently.

"Nothing, just heard that Sam got her hair pulled out." Kaveh said, putting his phone down. (I'm sorry if your name is Sam)

"She got into ankther fight?"

"Yep."

"Serves her right, she's always been a bitch."

Kaveh laughed and you tilted your head to the side, a smile creeping onto your own face.

"Would you like to hear how it happened?" Kaveh asked.

"Yeah, that girl has been causing drama since her first day. Of course I want to know how karma caught up with her," you said.

"Ok, so..."

Time pasted fast as the two of you gossiped and chatted, work casted aside. Playful insults were thrown carelessly and eventually the librarian had to kick the two of you out because it was closing time.

The next day rolled around and both of you found yourself working on your essays, starting the first draft. Typing away, words flowed as you wrote about the composition, line quality and colours used in your piece. Finishing the first draft, you sighed as you saved it and glanced over to Kaveh who was dead asleep.

"I knew this would happend," you muttered. Your grey cotton blanket covered him while you snuck a small pillow under his head, careful not to wake him.

In return, you took his laptop and found he'd finish your first draft before you so you started editing it. Making little notes with the comments feature and giving feedback to pass the time.

"Hmm...how long have I been asleep for?" Kaveh asked, sturing from his slumber.

"Good morning sleeping beauty, you've been sleeping for just over an hour," you said, neatly placing your books and pencil case back into your bag. Kaveh watched you pack up intently. His eyes were still droopy with exhausten and his hair was fluffy and messed up. "I was going to wake you after I finished packing up but I guess there's no need."

You gave a sweet smile that made Kaveh melt into a puddle of water. He couldn't stand how adorable and innocent your smile was and how your eyes reflected it. The slight rosy tint to your cheeks was all it took for Kaveh to want to squish them and pepper them with kisses. He swore over and over again that he wouldn't fall in love with you no matter what he did yet here he was, completely whipped. Simp was an understatement.

"I also finished editing your essay and made notes on what I changed gave feedback so you can refer to it in the future," you said,"if you don't understand it, I can explain it tomorrow but I have to go now so bye." You saved and took your leave.

"Oh, oh ok, bye," Kaveh said, waving back with one hand while the other rubbed his sleepy eye.

Two weeks had gone by, the two of you either meeting everyday after school or the day after if it one couldn't make it. A week after your final meeting, all assignments and exams had been completed and handed in. Everyone let out a sigh of relief as the final week before summer holidays arrived. The final week was mostly preparation for next semester's topics, cleaning up and receiving marks back.

It'd been a week since Kaveh last spoke or argued with you. With the two of you sharing every class except one elective, it was easy to spot the two of you arguing with each other. Whether it was malicious or playful, no one really knew. The two of you didn't even know but an unsettling peace had made itself home in your classes. One that unsettled everyone because it must've meant something really bad happend, right?

You saw Kaveh receive his score on his essay, the look on his face showed he was estatic. In an instant he looked at you with a big heart-warming smile that made you smile even on your worst days but then he shut his mouth as if he remembered something and reluctantly turned away. It made your heart ache and all you wanted to do was scream at him that he didn't have to ignore you, despite the promise he made.

Kaveh: I got a full score!

Tighnari: Congrats!

Cyno: Nice, did you tell (name)?

Kaveh: Oh um...

Alhaithem: Did you forget Kaveh said he'd leave (name) alone if they helped them?

Alhaithem: Good job on your essay Kaveh.

Kaveh: Thanks

Cyno: Sorry, it slipped my mind.

Kaveh: Its fine.

Alhaithem: Well if that's all, stop texting in class, there's still ten minutes left.

Kaveh: Art teacher doesn't care and you're texting in class too!

(Read by Alhaithem, cyno and tighnari)

Kaveh: Don't leave me on read! Urgh!

Throughout the day, you caught Kaveh glance at you from across the class multiple times. Each time, his eyes would widened slightly and he'd whip his head back so fast you thought it might fall off one day. What you didn't notice was the small pout on his lips as he continued taking notes and the bright red that dusted his cheeks and ears.

Everytime you approached, he'd walk away. If you walked in the same room as him and he couldn't escape, he'd talk to someone, making small talk.

"What if he's seeing someone else and moved on already!" Nilou shouted from you left.

"Thats not helping nilou and I doubt that loverboy would move on so quickly," Dehya said from your right while you shrunk.

"Sorry," Nilou said.

"Its fine," you said, pressing the button underneath the traffic light. "This is where I part," you said with a smile,"Ill see you two tomorrow."

"Oh ok bye (name)!" Nilou said.

"See ya," Dehya called out, already walking the other direction.

"Hey wait Dehya! Wait for me!" Nilou shouted, chasing after her.

You looked to the ground and wondered for a moment. Kaveh had been ignoring you purposely and you even tried leaving a note one time on his desk saying you wanted to talk. Perhaps he really didn't like you and just said he'd leave you alone because he thought itd been a win-win for the both of you. Killing two birds with one stone. Getting a high score and also never having to talk to you ever again. Before you knew it, small tears escaped your eyes and you sniffed while furiously wiping the tears away. "No, no that can't be true. I-" words got caught in your throat. Words that wouldn't have been spoken to anyone in particular. The traffic lights beeping went off signalling for you to cross. You looked up staring at the green man start to flash red as you finished crossing.

"Whatever! Its fine!" a voice yelled. "Its not like I love them anyways!" a very familiar voice yelled.

You turned the corner, to see a blonde man standing next to his silver haired friend. Never would you have expected to fall in love University or that kaveh's words would hurt you so much but as you stood there and watched Kaveh's and alhaithem's retreating figure, as you watched Kaveh list all the things he hated about you, small cracks turned into big cracks as your heart started to fall apart and you couldn't be bothered to pick the pieces up.

Part 2 || Dont read part 2 if you don't want comfort and just want an angsty ending. || Requests: open

[not-goldy]

Sometimes I wish Jimin stop being so secretive on cam and basically a wallflower. I wish he speaks up more and calls out BS immediately, especially during lives like JK/Tae or Joon does or is it because he doesn't get much wierd comments 🤔. Also stop being so fucking humble.. like sir you are a history maker, everything you release are organic hits, have a huge fanbase, your bdays are celebrated as Christmas day, why tf would you think you don't even deserve a music show win ?????? Own your success and skills please 🤧

And I also wish JK stop being so impulsive, saying and doing absolute dumbest things 🤧 sometimes he sounds like those cocky boys who will say they'll make you come thrice in a row and will climax within 2 seconds lol. He's so cocky; knows he's hot and his impact but at the same time he still don't know what he really needs. So I wish he becomes more mature and get his shit together asap

Maybe if they use share these qualities a bit with each other it will be fine lol. JK sharing some of his cockiness with Jimin so he can go 'yeah that me, Park Jimin' bitches 💅' and Jimin sharing some of his level headness with JK, so he can think before doing and saying some things 🥲

Idk how they are even navigating through their relationship when both are on opposite ends of attitude and lifestyles, like is that even possible ? Won't both parties get sick of each other soon? ... or maybe like you said JK is the freedom Jimin is craving for and Jimin is the leash JK very much needed 🤷‍♀️

Set me free was liberating for me and I think Jungkook too cos he stamped his approval on it like you could tell Jimin frustrates him sometimes with the kill them with kindness vibes he has going on.

And I know Jimin is not a push over too cos there's some really hard core ghettoness buried deep inside his slytherine heart- he is the master of self control cos I'll be getting canceled every second if I were him🥲🥲🥲

I'll be dropping mid night rants talking bout yall could never be me😭😭😭😭🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Hash tag jealous

Hash tag up in your man's arms 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

And he lowkey be shading too but we don't talk about that🥲

He's constantly trolling haters posting Jungkook shirtless, leaning on him kissing up on him daring yall to come for Kook if he's your mans💔💔💔💔

This literally him on these streets he eats and wink

Shade is cool Jimin but throw the damn tree too🤣

They are both fascinating.

Oh lord not 2 seconds 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

You is going to hell for that😭😭😭🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Not gonna lie, I do enjoy his chaotic character most times. I'm big on diversity. If everyone acted the same way they'd be boring as hell plus I like my BTS a tad crackheads🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

JUNGKOOK'S a vibe. Not many idols like him. He be be tanking on the idol part sometimes- I don't think he even sees or thinks of himself as an idol😭😭🤣🤣

An idol is a whole personna carefully curated to appeal to an audience- when I tell you Jungkook ain't curating shit for no one and to please no one😭😭😭😭😭

Tell him to do aigoo I dare ya🤣🤣🤣😭😭😭😭

Sometimes I just play his memes and sleep. It's the new Netflix and chill for me.

Doesn't take himself too too serious, easy going non judgemental, quirky😭😭😭

And he is very relatable. We all don't say the right things all the time, or do the right things and overthink everything.

Some people don't find that attractive in Idols but I like it. That that I like that

Im a bit of a crack head myself so.... anywho

For an idol, yea perhaps he could be a bit more controlled and polished but not too much cos then he'd lose relatability and seem outta touch.

Frankly I think they are both perfect as they are💀

I wouldn't change much but you are right they both could influence eachother a bit and they do TRUST. 💜