#look like me and trying to avoid being near me the whole time I'm there

[radderthan]

Stolas and Valentino are the same character

Hear me out.

Warning: Long text. Also hot take?

Disclaimer: I don't hate HH or HB, or any real person involved. While I'm not shy to criticize, at the end of the day it's still a fictional world and not worth getting too mad over.

So, I'm one of the people who had never heard of the Hellaverse before HH dropped earlier this year. Never seen either pilots, never heard of Hazbin or Helluva, never seen or known anything of the characters, and thus had 0 attachment to any of it. This year I watched HH after it released in whole before knowing what a helluva boss was. Now, Valentino deserves the bullet, we all know that and most people would agree. So when I got around to HB, I was shocked to see the Valentino archetype....being adored and a fan favorite? Unironically, too?

Like... They're so similar in both how they look, act and feel towards those around them and their version of AngelDust/Blitz.

Let's compare; 1. Rich, high on the social hierarchy, with an authority that's difficult or impossible to challenge: Check.

Valentino is a rich, famous overlord pimp who uses souls and substances to control and exploit people beneath him.

Stolas, demon royalty, filthy rich and so powerful he ranks only below Charlie. Has entire legions and a palace-full of (imp) servants at his beck and call.

2. Tall, red eyed, twink with effeminate gestures, pleasant voice and distinct manner of speech. Also dark purple/grey -ish.

Like come on, check.

3. Obsessed with a low rank, underprivileged poor sack/object of desire.

Check.

4. Gone out of their way to acquire control over their object of desire.

Valentino, through means unknown so far, bought AngelDust's soul, keeping him bound to him. This leaves AngelDust unable to leave or refuse him.

Stolas had his book stolen by Blitz, but instead of reporting him or simply getting it back, waited long enough for the latter to build his business depending on the Grimoire, and only after it became essental to his job, Stolas set inappropriate demands, knowing Blitz would do anything for the book he now relies on.

5. Their objects of desire are expected to perform sexual acts whether they want/like them or not, and are bound to suffer negative consequences for not complying.

AngelDust has to do porn and prostitution work to make Valentino money and afford his addiction. He gets physically abused, belittled/insulted, and verbally/emotionally abused and manipulated for not doing so.

Blitz is expected to sexually please Stolas each full moon however the prince desires, to keep his (very difficult to make and keep for his low rank in society) business afloat, pay his employees, and financially support his adoptive daughter. Failing to keep Stolas happy means putting himself and especially his loved ones at risk or significant disadvantage.

6. On top of their transactional relationships with their OoD, romantic/romance-coded feelings or behaviours are one-sidedly involved.

AngelDust is Valentino's number one star/moneymaker, perhaps favourite employee, yet Valentino throws jealous tantrums when he's ignored/not suckered up to, and feels entitled to Angel's time, attention, availability, and texts him like a clingy boyfriend.

Stolas, not satifsfied with their arrangement, began expecting Blitz to fullfill a romantic role in his life and deliberately tries to have him perform this fantasy; by trying to get him to be his knight in shining armor, dropping everything and coming to his rescue when he's in danger that Stolas could have easily avoided/gotten out of if he didn't want to be a damsel in distress in the romcom in his head. Is shown to be upset/dissapointed when Blitz doens't want to do anything with him outside of their deal; not staying over after sex, not visiting him in the hospital, not wanting to be near him anymore than he has to. Acts wronged, petty, belittling/mocking and ghaslights/guilttrips Blitz when the latter doesn't act like a devoted boyfriend, when in reality Stolas has made him essentially an indebted prostitute.

7. They treat those they see beneath them poorly.

Valentino is sadistic and exploits, physically assaults, emotionally/verbally and psychologically abuses his contracts and coworkers. Is creepy and predatory to those who aren't bound to him yet.

Stolas, less sadistic than Valentino, yet he exploits and physically abuses his palace servants. Is entirely indifferent to seeing his staff mistreated by his wife. Outside his castle, he's classist and racist, belittling imps, feeling entitled to their services showing no gratitude, or straight up ignoring their existance. He only sexually abuses one imp, though :))

8. They treat those on the same level as them poorly or are neglectful.

Valentino is shitty to Vox and Velvette, breaking their stuff, yelling, insulting and being petulant around them. Even to Charlie, who is above him, he assaults and insults her all the same.

Stolas publicly cheated on his wife, flaunts it with no shame, has no concern or care for how this affects his daughter, who he claims is his reason for living and the only one he actually cares about. Doesn't assume any responsibility for his actions, expects everyone to accommodate to him. Carelessly leans out his daughter's inheritance and seemingly her studies, which are his responsibility, are subpar. Also forgets about his daughter constantly, stayed hours in the human world watching a shitty sitcom rather than go look for his missing daughter in a place she's never been in and, as far as he thought, was in danger. Is happy ditching/neglecting his family and princely duties to pursue his OoD with no care for the consequences and harm on others.

9. They often display sexually charged speech and actions that are inapprioriate to the people they're with or the situation.

Valentino is a creep and sexual predator off the go to pretty much anyone, specially vulnerable/gullible people or straight up people who don't want/like it.

Stolas speaks openly of his sexual desires in front of his family, reads imp erotica at the dinner table in front of his wife and teenage daughter. Speaks of Blitz sexually in public despite his protests.

I'm tired of typing at this point lol, sorry for any mispellings, but come on, genuinely asking, why are these two so differently received by the fans?

It's not even about which one is worse, because they way I see it they portray different versions of an abuser; Valentino is the more overt "textbook" type, the one everyone recognizes as abusive, and Stolas is the more covert one that everyone sees as the victim instead and paint the actual victim as the bad guy for not acting like a regular textbook victim. I get that everyone was iffy about Stolas at first, as it's reasonable, but I truly don't get how everyone grew to adore him so much?

Personally, I don't even find him neither funny or charming. At least Valentino has some funny moments/lines, but Stolas is just so whiny and annoying to me, which is a shame because I really wanted to like him and his owl design is cool. I love good villains, and I would like Stolas more if they treated him accordingly, like a villain, instead of a poor uwu sad gay babyboy who's crush doesn't call him back.

If you read this far; first of all, ur cool

I welcome any thoughts and additions as long as you're polite and respectful about it. <3

[femmeidiot]

being fat is literally so annoying and it's not even like the being fat part it's the stupid ass comments people make like as much as I struggle with body image I've pretty much accepted that this is just how my body is and how it is going to look but I am so tired of having people bring up stupid shit or feel like I owe them explanations about my body it's exhausting everyone should shut the fuck up and leave fat people alone forever cause we could absolutely destroy most of y'all's skinny asses if we needed to and I'm about to start physically fighting the next person who says any sort of bullshit to me

[rennalaqotfm]

𖤓 DRAGONSPEAR | J.V (PART IV)

Pairing: Prince Jacaerys Velaryon x Martell Princess! Reader

Synopsys: Upon discovering Aemond Targaryen's alliance with the Triarchy, the Blacks are pushed to the point of desperation. With the war looming over the horizon, they have no choice but to turn to an unlikely ally: House Martell.

Content Warning: Sexual content (but MDNI 18+ just to be safe), dry humping (-ish?), violence, alcohol consumption, toxic dynamics, swearing, themes of prejudice and misogynism, and a lot of 'fucking politicking,' as King Viserys said, (not proofread).

WC: 5.6k

Series Masterlist

(A/N and taglist at the end of the chapter)

As the winds guided Ser Tyland's ship to the Free Cities, the excitement regarding the wedding of the future Princess of Dorne and the Crown Prince buzzed in the air. No ravens had to be sent, for the whispers began within the palace walls, spread through the bustling streets of Sunspear, and were carried by the desert winds across the dunes, reaching the furthest Dornish houses.

Princess Y/n sat before her mirror, watching her handmaiden, Melynda, fasten the back of her dress. A sweet girl of one-and-twenty, Melynda had been brought from Pentos on a cramped boat, a former slave traded by her master for coin. Ever since she had served the Princess with quiet devotion, her nimble fingers always making a masterpiece out of her.

Despite being draped in the finest fabrics of deep sapphire, adorned with intricate golden swirls and beads of amber, Y/n stared blankly at her reflection. The celebrations leading to the wedding were set to last a fortnight, a long stretch filled with feasts, ceremonies, and endless politicking. In mere hours, she would be facing the guests, forced to smile and charm as she and the Velaryon boy persuaded them to align with Rhaenyra's cause. She didn't even know where to begin looking for the strength and willpower she had to gather to convince those lords to join a war she herself didn't fully believe in.

“Is it too tight, Princess?” Melynda asked meekly, noting how Y/n had remained quiet the whole time she had been preparing her. "Princess?"

Suddenly, Y/n's bottom lip began to quiver as she felt a knot forming in her throat. 

“Gods be damned…” she muttered, feeling her tears pooling in her eyes. “How did it all come to this?” 

“If it's too tight, mayhaps I could—”

“Of course, it’s bloody tight! It’s damn near crushing my guts!” the Princess burst out, causing her handmaiden to stumble backward, her hands trembling. “I apologise, Melynda,” she sniffed, feeling the guilt pool in her chest. It wasn’t the first time she had taken her anger and frustration out on the younger girl. Of all the people in the palace, she was the least deserving of such crude treatment. “It’s just—”

“I understand, Princess,” Melynda smiled sadly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Y/n held her hand softly, holding back her cries. “To be betrothed to someone who you don't truly love must be a punishment for the soul.”

“I’ve been trying to avoid this all these years. Gods forbid a woman who wants to live a life free from all this nonsense," she muttered bitterly.

“You are to be the Princess of Dorne. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“But not with a Targaryen… someone who sees us as nothing more than goatfuckers.”

“Once you get to acquainted with one another, I’m certain he’ll see past the veil of prejudice that blinds the rest of Westeros.”

“Oh, we’re well past the point of acquaintances, and I’m certain we’ve both made it clear that we’d rather kill each other than push forward with this betrothal.”

“And yet, you've hardly spent a moment alone together, away from prying eyes. Forgive me if I'm wrong, my Princess, but this hostility you feel towards one another... it feels more like the weight of your houses than your own. He’s not truly wronged you, nor have you wronged him... well, apart from the few wounds you’ve exchanged.”

“I wish it were as simple as you say, but the hatred between our houses runs deeper than that trial. We’re talking about years of bloodshed, of lives torn apart by their desire to conquer what was never theirs. How can we ever forget that? If anything, those Targaryens are only reaping what they've sown.”

“I understand, Princess, but is it truly fair to place the sins of the forefathers upon their children? Yes, the Targaryens once sought to conquer Dorne, but they failed. And since then, they’ve left us to rule our lands. Why should Prince Jacaerys suffer for the wrongdoings of his ancestors when he himself hasn't harmed you?”

“You speak the truth, Melynda. But do you truly think the rest of the Dorne will see it that way?” She stared at her handmaiden's reflection. “The pain the Targaryens have caused... it’s not just written in our histories, it’s engraved into the souls of our people.”

“I’m not saying that your betrothal to Prince Jacaerys will reconcile your houses overnight, Princess. In fact, it may take generations to heal these wounds. However, if Queen Rhaenyra proves to be the rightful and just ruler she claims to be, and honours your demands... and you and Prince Jacaerys unite the Seven Kingdoms as promised, then mayhaps it could be the beginning of something.” 

Suddenly, both women were startled by a knock on the door.

“Yes?” Y/n cleared her throat.

“My Princess,” Ser Domeric's said from the other side. “The guests have begun to arrive, and your presence is expected shortly.”

Princess Y/n quickly composed herself, ensuring that any trace of sorrow had vanished from her face, and replaced her semblance with a mask of indifference.

The late afternoon breeze crept through the palace windows, stirring the heavy air in the Hall but doing little to lift the mood. Spirits were low and the lingering music was drowned out by the quiet murmurs of the guests. Lords and ladies from House Yronwood to House Qorgyle had traversed across the arid deserts to Sunspear, not out of enthusiasm, but out of duty, their gazes shifting warily as they gathered to pay tribute to the Princess. Even Y/n herself, appeared as though she wished to be anywhere else.

At the high table, the Martells sat alongside the Targaryens, not able to look one another eye to eye. They faced the great houses, whose semblance didn’t hide their disdain for the dragonriders. They showed no efforts for forced pleasantries, bracing themselves for the next chapter of conflict rather than celebrating a wedding that would unite the Seven Kingdoms.

Before anything, Prince Qoren stood up, ready to speak before his people.

“It is truly an honour to welcome you all this evening, and I thank each and every one of you for making the long journey to Sunspear. Tonight, we gather not only to celebrate the betrothal of my beloved daughter, Princess Y/n Martell, to the Crown Prince Jacaerys Velaryon... but also, the union between House Martell and House Targaryen,” he spoke, the enthusiasm fading in his voice. 

The crowd fell into an immediate hush, the lords and ladies exchanging uncertain glances, some full of resentment, and some full of disgust. Y/n felt each pressing gaze suffocating her and tried to hide her discomfort behind the rim of her cup, already expecting those pessimistic reactions. After all, who in their right mind would willingly wed a Targaryen?

“Out of all of the suitors that have lost their lives willing to serve you and our realm, you chose to spare the one whose ancestors sought to conquer our lands?” Lady Liara from House Briar’s voice trembled, barely able to hold back her anger. “Could you not have shown mercy to my sweet boy Eldritch instead?”

The Princess had always been taught to hold back in such moments, especially in front of such a large audience, but before she could stop herself, the words were already spilling out of her mouth.

“My Lady,” Y/n began, trying to push down the feeling of irritation rising up her chest. “Remind me… who sent your son, alone, to seek my hand? As far as I know, someone that young shouldn’t be burdened with ‘providing me a strong heir’ or ‘making Dorne more prosperous than it already is.’ Those aren’t words a boy of three-and-ten should be speaking.” 

Lady Liara sank back to her seat with a scowl. The Princess’ gaze swept across the Hall, their faces etched with grief and bitterness, never forgetting the lives lost in pursuit of her hand. 

Whilst the guests sat in silence, waiting for either Prince Qoren or Princess Y/n to justify such a decision, Rhaenyra seized the moment to capture the crowd’s attention. She cleared her throat and rose slowly, her lilac eyes lingering on each guest, meeting the same eyes that had carried pent-up hatred for generations.

“By coming here, we are not denying the sins of House Targaryen,” she paused, allowing her words to settle, her gaze never leaving the crowd.  “I understand that to many of you, we are still the enemy. I am aware of the blood that was spilled and the pain that has lingered for generations. But the true enemies now are the Greens, who have usurped the Throne and seek to bring all of Westeros to its knees. And I know Dorne will not bend without a fight. Join us, and we will stand together. We can prevent the war that the Greens will bring to your lands.”

Despite Rhaenyra's words, the guests still mumbled with one another and her plea fell on indifferent ears. She clasped her hands together, holding her composure.

“So, the Greens are the enemies now, eh?" A voice echoing across the hall finally broke through the whispers. “To them, you are the usurper. And as far as we are concerned, they have yet to come to our lands to pester us with this petty war of yours.”

“Do not mistake their silence for mercy, my Lord. When they come, they will not ask. They will take. And by then, it may be too late to decide where your loyalties lie,” Daemon retorted.

“They have left us with no other choice,” Lord Lysander Dayne scowled. “Is this why you brought these beasts? So they can burn us if we refuse to join?”

Upon the mere mention of the dragons, the fear of the crowd became palpable. Prince Qoren’s face was flushed with anger, seeing that the celebration had somehow turned into a council meeting.

“Enough of this nonsense!” Prince Qoren bellowed, rising to his feet and jabbing his fist to the table. "We are here to celebrate the upcoming wedding of my daughter, not to squabble over this bloody war! If I hear more of it tonight, I’ll throw you in a pit of scorpions myself," his voice cut through the crowd, making the lords shrink back into their seats as he glared at Rhaenyra.

The music, which had momentarily ceased, began to play again. Princess Y/n exhaled deeply, gripping her cup as she swirled the crimson liquid. If she was going to endure the remainder of this night and persuade those thick-skulled lords to support Rhaenyra, she would need wine. A lot of it. She downed the first cup, the sweet taste lingering on her palate as her gaze shifted across the room, spotting the lords she had to sway.

Lord Lysander of House Dayne sat with his lady wife, his stern face etched with displeasure. He had made it clear where he stood, opposing any involvement in the war. Yet, he was infamously known for his ambition; he was the sort of man who would bend the knee for the right price, advancing his own house in exchange for his formidable army. Then there was Lord Thaddeus of House Yronwood, head of the second-most powerful house in Dorne, capable of providing enough supplies to sustain the armies at sea; a practical man, loyal to tradition, but always open to negotiation. On the other side of the Hall, she spotted Lord Ander of House Jordayne, who owned the largest fleet in Dorne.

Ser Domeric, being part of House Uller and their loyal informant, would provide whatever support was asked. And lastly, House Santagar, though not enthusiastic, had always been fiercely loyal to the Martells and would stand by their house regardless.

Despite the collective disappointment lingering in the air, as the feast came to an end, the guests stood up to salvage what remained of the evening. Jacaerys’ eyes followed Y/n as she rose from her seat, weaving through the multitude and making her way to Lord Lysander. The man bowed his head and extended his hand, offering the Princess a dance which she accepted with a smile that seemed far too charming than she would normally allow herself to be. Jacaerys couldn’t tear his gaze from Y/n, watching how she leaned towards Lord Lysander, her lips closely brushing his ear, as he nodded eagerly so as not to disappoint her.

“A celebration of our upcoming betrothal?” Jacaerys scoffed, already feeling his blood boil at the sight of the Princess with another man. Had they been at the Red Keep, the whispers would have already circled around, rumours of the Princess enjoying the company of other men, even while bound by a betrothal to him, that would call into question not only her honour but the legitimacy of their future children. He could already hear the council’s scandalous whispers behind closed doors–whispers that had been haunting him all his life.

“She’s quite gifted, isn’t she, my dear sister?” Elyas remarked, turning to Jacaerys. “She has a way of making men dance in the palm of her hand.”

“Only if one is foolish enough to fall for whatever games she is playing,” Jacaerys muttered.

Jacaerys and Elyas watched how Lord Lysander placed a kiss on top of her hand. With one final whisper, she slipped away from his arms and disappeared into the crowd, only to be seen again; that time with Lord Ander, who offered the Princess his hand without hesitation. 

“There are a couple of things you should know about her,” Elyas said with a sneer, glancing at the Princess. “One of them is… you’ll never be her only one.”

“You need not tell me what I can already see. It seems your sister is not familiar with the notion of faithfulness.”

“Faithfulness? As far as I’m aware, neither of you are bound by vows just yet,”  Elyas grinned, noting how Jacaerys clearly wasn’t enjoying the conversation. "But listen, this celebration isn’t meant for you to sulk in a corner, watching my sister dance with every lord in Dorne. It's for indulging. There’s a place not too far from the palace, where we know how to truly celebrate. Who knows? You might not even survive this war you’re throwing yourself into. You may as well enjoy the finest pleasures our land has to offer before it’s too late," Jacaerys’s knuckles whitened around his cup, his repulsion palpable, but Elyas only leaned in closer. 

As much as Jacaerys despised watching Princess Y/n flit from lord to lord, he wasn’t about to lower himself to her games. What was she trying to prove? Was she testing him, daring him to show any signs of jealousy or anger? Or mayhaps she was simply making it clear, once again, how much she misliked him?

Jacaerys refused to give Elyas the satisfaction of a response and merely shook his head. Elyas smirked, amused by Jacaerys' restraint, and stood up, ensuring he ruined the evening even more before leaving.

“Oh, and just so you know… whatever illusions you have about loyalty and honour, you'd best cast them aside. If you think my sister will suddenly change her ways after this betrothal of yours, then you’re completely wrong. I’m telling you now, she won’t. She’s as Dornish as they come… untamable and always chasing trouble. The more you tighten the leash, the more she’ll struggle to break free. And she’ll keep playing her games, whether you like them or not... so you better learn how to play them if you don't wish to end up as another one of her playthings,” Elyas said, slapping Jacaerys’ shoulder playfully before walking away.

Jacaerys hadn’t even realised how tightly he was clenching his jaw until the sound of Elyas and his sworn protector’s fading footsteps pulled him back to reality. He let out a breath, trying to shake off the bitterness away, and downed a gulp of wine.

But what he hadn’t noticed was a pair of dark wide eyes watching him from the other end of the table. It was Farien, whose gaze had been flickering between him and Elyas the whole time. When Jacaerys caught the boy's gaze, his expression softened. He set down his cup, watching how the little boy stood up and made his way over to him.

“If you marry my sister, does that mean you’ll become my brother?” Farien asked. 

“I suppose,” he forced a smile, though he wasn’t sure if the little boy was particularly glad about that.

Farien climbed on to the empty seat beside Jacaerys, glancing around the nearly deserted table and making sure none of his family members were nearby. All of the Martells were tending their own business, leaving the Targaryens seated in silence. The boy leaned in close, cupping his small hands around Jacaerys’s ear, scared that someone might hear what he had to say.

“So, does that mean I get to ride your dragon?” He whispered. 

Jacaerys looked at him, his eyes widening in surprise. 

“If your father allows you, then I suppose you could… but are you not afraid?” He asked.

“I’m really, really scared. But I wonder what it must feel like to see the world from up above. The closest I’ve ever gotten to flying is in my dreams, you know? It feels like I’m one of Father’s falcons, soaring high in the skies. Father says I have the gift to turn into one of them at night and watch over the desert,” he glanced up, his eyes gleaming in wonder.

Jacaerys looked at the boy and allowed himself to smile, as Farien somehow reminded him of his younger brother, Joffrey, whom he hadn't seen in a long time.

“Anyway,” Farien continued, “I think we could be brothers, you and I. We even look alike, see?” He pointed at Jacaerys’ curls. “It would be nice to have another brother... because, well, Elyas... he’s nice, sometimes. But not always.”

Jacaerys held back a scoff, figuring as much. 

“And what about your sister?” 

“We like sneaking sweets from the kitchens and feeding them to the horses,” Farien’s eyes suddenly lit up. “And she loves fighting, too. But not the angry, shouting kind, no. She says that sometimes, fighting feels like dancing, and that’s why she enjoys it. She’s really good at it. And I think you are too. But my sister is better.”

Just as he was about to ask Farien what other things his sister enjoyed, one of the little boy’s servants approached them. 

“My Prince, your father has sent me to take you back to your chambers to rest,” she smiled at the little boy, who had no choice but to accept dejectedly.

As the servant took him in her arms, Farien waved at Jacaerys with a small smile. He nodded at the little boy, unable to stop himself from smiling back.

“At least the little one is not as irritating as the rest of his family,” Rhaenyra said as her gaze softened, noticing how the little boy never tore his eyes from them as he got further and further.

“Give him a couple of years. He will turn out exactly like his older brother,” Daemon muttered. 

Then, Jacaerys' gaze trailed back to the Princess once again, who was still locked in a dance with Lord Ander. The exchange of whispers seemed to grow more intense, as his lips lingered on the shell of her ear, making her nod as her smile never left her lips.

“Jacaerys,” Daemon’s sharp voice cut through his thoughts. “Do you not have a duty to fulfil?”

“I have been fulfilling them since the moment we arrived,” he muttered, his voice laced with irritation. As Jacaerys had been doing everything he could to uphold his duties, Daemon merely sat back, watching the spectacle he had set in motion unravel before him. 

“You have, but sitting and watching the Princess be courted by every lord in Dorne is not one of them. Listen to me, these men are doing everything in their power to pull her away from our alliance since they can see she does not favour you,” he paused leaning in closer. “You are no stranger to this. If you two are to rule the Seven Kingdoms, she needs to be seen by your side.”

Jacaerys rose from his seat as he exhaled, growing frustrated by the second. It was all in the name of duty, after all. He headed towards the Princess with steady steps, disappearing into the crowd and dodging every drunken lord and lady that stood in his way. Lord Ander, who seemed to have more intentions than just dancing with the Princess, held her close, too close, his hands lingering on her waist. 

“My Lord,” Jacaerys cleared his throat, barely containing himself. Lord Ander snapped his head towards his direction. “I would hate to interrupt your conversation, but the hour is quite late, and Princess Y/n needs to rest.”

“Is that so?” He pulled Y/n even closer to him, making Jacaerys’ blood boil. “How come the Princess seems to be enjoying herself?”

Jacaerys’ eyes flicked to the cup in her hand, the liquid threatening to spill from the rim. He wasn’t a stranger to that dazed look and that loose smirk playing on her lips. 

“The Princess seems to have indulged in one too many cups. You may continue whatever… conversation you were having on the morrow, my Lord,” Jacaerys forced his words through his teeth. 

“Is that an order from the Crown Prince? Or from a boy who is still learning how to hold a woman’s interest?” Lord Ander raised a brow, sliding his hand even lower on her waist. 

The Princess’ gaze flicked between the two men, unaware of the escalating tension. She took another sip from her cup, her eyes landing on Jacaerys, finally acknowledging how dashing he looked in a Dornish ensemble of deep blues and golds.

“Gods, spare me,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “You two sound like you’re ready to start another war.”

“If it means winning your favour, Princess,” Lord Ander said with a grin.

“Mayhaps that's a battle for another day. Besides, the Prince is right, the hour is quite late,” she said softly, growing tired at the show of bravado between the two men. She moved away from Lord Ander and took a step towards Jacaerys.

Jacerys, whose heart was pounding with both anger and relief, offered her his arm. Y/n would’ve hesitated at first, but under the effects of wine, any qualms were long gone. She noted how he tensed his arm uncomfortably, unaware that she was putting pressure on the wound she had given him not too long ago. 

Casymir leaned against one of the pillars with a hint of amusement on his face, watching the whole scene unfold before his eyes. Once Jacaerys and Y/n were away from the crowd, he finally pushed himself off the pillar, approaching Jacaerys, who was struggling to keep her in place.

“Allow me, my Prince. The Princess is in good hands with me,” he said, extending his arm. 

Jacaerys glared at Casymir as he adjusted her weight in his arm, wondering what he was smiling for.

“You are the Princess’ sworn protector, are you not?” He raised his brow. 

“Yes, my Prince,” he smiled proudly.

“Yet all you did was stand and watch how the Princess wandered into the clutches of men with less than noble intentions,” Jacaerys tried to keep his composure, though his anger simmered beneath the surface.

“Do you question my service to the Princess, my Prince?” He chuckled, brushing the Prince’s concerns aside. “The Princess was in no immediate danger. And as far as I’m aware, a dance with a lord hardly constitutes a threat.”

“If you think a man whose ulterior motives are clearly written in his face not to be dangerous, then mayhaps we have very different understandings of the word danger,” Jacaerys said. 

“You greatly misunderstand the Princess. Lord Ander was eager, but he knew better than to cross the line. And besides, she would’ve ended his attempts long before you stepped in. As you might have already… experienced, the Princess knows how to handle herself and hardly needs to be coddled,” his blue eyes trailed at the way their arms were intertwined. “Though, it seems she doesn’t mind letting you try.”

“So, what are you here for, then? Just for decoration?”  

“Is picking fights with other men a favourite pastime of yours, my Prince?” The Princess laughed, poking fun at Jacaerys as she unconsciously tightened her grip around his injured arm. “You do seem to have a talent for making enemies wherever you go.”

Jacaerys hesitated, unsure if replying to the Princess was even worth the efforts given her current state, so he merely scoffed, shaking his head in defeat. However, one thing he couldn’t ignore was the feeling of having her so close as she mindlessly ran her hand up and down the length of his arm. He tried to calm his heart, but he couldn’t keep his composure with each stroke of her fingers that made him lean into her touch ever so slightly.   

Once they reached the Princess’ chambers, Casymir leaned on the door, his arms crossed with an infuriatingly calm expression on his face. 

“If you wish to be escorted back to your chambers, my Prince, I can call for a servant,” Casymir offered, implying that Jacaerys had overstayed his welcome.

“No. I wish to stay. The Princess and I have a few words to exchange,” he said.

“I’ll be fine, Cas,” the Princess slurred, assuring her sworn protector with a slow nod.

“As you wish, my Princess. I'll be just outside, should you require any assistance.”

Jacaerys stood by the door, unsure of what to do now that he was inside the Princess’ chambers. It wasn’t improper of him, as her soon-to-be husband, to be seen there, so he found himself leaning against the wall, trying to regain the composure that he had repeatedly lost throughout the night. His eyes trailed around the intricately carved golden statues that adorned the corners and the colourful tapestries that swayed slightly, catching the faint breeze that slipped through the windows and bringing with it the distant murmurs of the ongoing celebration. 

Only when he heard a soft clink and the steady stream of wine being poured into a cup, he snapped out of his thoughts. Before he could even think, he turned to Y/n, walking towards her and snatching the cup and jug from her hands, causing her mouth to hang open in disbelief and indignation. 

“You will not drink any more tonight,” he ordered, pouring the liquid out of the window and slamming the cup aside.  

“Well, isn’t this absolutely perfect?” She spat, throwing her arms in the air in defeat. “Not only will you take away my freedom, but now you wish to take away one of the few things that bring me joy?”

“You must live a very miserable life, Princess, if wine and men are the few things in life that bring you joy,” Jacaerys burst out, no longer able to contain the pent-up anger that had been brewing all night.

“Oh, believe me, I’ll have a miserable life once I marry you.”

“And what makes you think I want to marry you? That behaviour of yours… is unacceptable,” he wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I do not wish to marry someone who is a slave to their desires.”

“A slave to my desires? Is that what you think of me?” Y/n shouted, unable to control the fury taking over her voice.

“What else am I supposed to think when you go from lord to lord like a marionette whose strings had been cut?” He paused, taking in her dishevelled appearance. “I was not aware how these Dornishmen could name someone so ruthless and so debauched as their Princess.” 

“And I didn’t know you Targaryens go around crowning bastards just to keep your house on the Throne,” she spat, making sure to rest her gaze on his dark eyes and on his brown locks long enough.

“You whore–!”

Before Jacaerys could finish his sentence, Y/n's palm collided with his cheek in a stinging slap, his head snapping to the side. His eyes widened, more in shock than pain, as his hand instinctively rose to the reddening mark on his face.

“A whore? A savage? A goatfucker?” Y/n's voice trembled with fury. “Is that all you see me as?” She shoved him hard, sending him stumbling backward until his back hit the wall. Her finger jabbed into his chest with every word. “You,” she spat, “should be thanking me for getting my hands dirty, persuading those lords to join your petty war!”

Jacaerys was stunned into silence momentarily, feeling every ounce of her rage bleeding through her words.

“And who told you to do that on your own?” Jacaerys shot back. “You could have asked me, we could have gone together and spoken to them like it is expected of us!”

“You overestimate yourself,” she scoffed, narrowing her eyes at him. “Do you even know what those lords think of you? Of your family? If it weren’t for our betrothal, they would have driven a spear through your chests without a second thought. Because to them, you Targaryens are nothing but bloodthirsty murderers who’ve come to take our lands all over again.”

“Enough!” Jacaerys grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her, slamming her against the wall. “You think I do not know that? You think I do not feel it every time I step into a room? The way they look at me? At my family? You think I enjoy being the enemy?” He seethed, feeling his throat grow raw with each word. “Gods, you are infuriating,” he grunted, realising how close their faces were to one another. 

The Princess’ lips curled into a smirk, a flicker of satisfaction lingering in her eyes. She had struck a nerve, realising how Jacaerys was always quick to react to whatever blasphemous speech she had to say about his family, and once again, she had managed to unleash the dormant wrath that blinded his actions. 

As the Princess found herself cornered between his arms and the wall, she crouched low, slipping beneath his arms in a fluid motion and spinning around to pin Jacaerys against the wall, pressing her chest to his back. Jacaerys reacted instinctively, kicking off the wall to shove her back. The sudden force sent her stumbling as she crashed on the ground, and he followed, landing on top of her in a tangle of limbs.

Just as he was about to stand up, Y/n yanked him back down and rolled on top of him, keeping him in place by locking her thighs around his waist and pinning his arms on the floor with one swift movement. Truth be told, Jacaerys could have easily pushed her away as her usual strength was halved by the wine; yet he remained still, feeling the warmth of Y/n’s body pressed into his, and how their faces were inches apart yet again, her breath hot on his skin.

Once again, he found himself under her mercy.

She stared down at him with half-lidded eyes and lips slightly open as she breathed lightly, taking in the sight of Jacaerys’ flushed face and his gaze clouded by desire. Jacerys looked up at her and gulped, feeling his erection stirring uncomfortably beneath his breeches.

His eyes locked onto her plump lips and trailed towards to the hollow of her neck, down to her chest. He stared hungrily as she leaned towards him, his fingertips itching to explore the skin hidden beneath the fabric of her dress. As she got closer and closer to his face, Jacaerys’ breath hitched, and without realising it, his lips parted slightly as his eyes fluttered shut in anticipation. His pulse quickened, waiting for the warmth of her lips pressing against his.

But instead of the kiss he craved, he felt the hot caress of her breath graze the shell of his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. Her voice, low and smooth, held him captive with each honeyed word.

“If you want to win this little war of yours, you better start by respecting me,” she whispered as she let go of one of his wrists and began tracing delicate patterns with her finger. “Just because I’ve chosen you as my betrothed doesn’t mean I won’t change my mind,” she bucked her hips against his hardened cock, causing Jacaerys to groan at the sudden spark of pleasure coursing in his veins. 

In that very moment, Y/n had uncovered yet another emotion—the primal desire that, despite her infuriating attitude, she had managed to set ablaze. If Jacaerys had to ask himself how it happened, he wouldn’t know where to begin answering. Had it all started when they first met, when she held little regard for him? Was it in the arena, when she brazenly humiliated him in front of everyone? Or was it the fact that they always seemed to find themselves pointing a blade at each other’s throats? Behind all that anger and hatred, and the prejudice that blinded him from seeing the Princess as she truly was, lay a spark of curiosity. Something he knew that once he began to explore, that spark would turn into wildfire.

With each passing second, he fought against the temptation to place his hands on the curve of her hips and make her grind herself against his cock.

“Remember, my Prince,” she purred in his ear, bucking her hips once again. “The wedding has not taken place yet, and anything could happen.” 

A/N: For some reason, i keep beating my wordcount record. istg my fanfic wc is way bigger than all of my uni papers combined, and bare in mind i was a humanities student lmfaooo.

anyway, i feel like this chapter was a mess. jace's patience continuously getting tested by everyone, and our reader making things even harder for him. i actually feel sorry for those two but the way they are handling things is not very demure, mindful or cutesy. we got the exact opposite.

Taglist: @happinessinthebeing @deltamoon666 @dark1paradise @elz-zalarrr @v0dka4a (continued in comments)

[hurtblossom]

You belong with me L.N.4 (part II)

Part 2 of You belong with me

Pairing : Lando Norris x Driver!reader (female)

Summary : Maybe they do belong to each other after all

Warnings : ANGST + Terrible english + Short + swearing

IT'S JUST FICTION ! NO HATE TOWARD MAGUI !

Masterlist

It's been a week since you last spoke to Lando. You have been avoiding him successfully, though he made it hard for you. Every time he was around, you'd try to get out of the room or stay as far as possible from him. You no longer spare him a glace, nor did you exchange a word with him.  

Lando was left confused after you last conversation. Some of the words that you used struck him, and he couldn't stop thinking about you red puffy eyes, and the look on your face. You were so sad, and you seemed heartbroken, which was something he rarely saw on your face.  

⁕ 

Lando was scrolling on Tiktok, trying to get his mind off of you, but the universe seemed to be against him, throwing edits of you every two TikTok's, and even like that, he couldn't take his eyes off you. You were just so beautiful. One of those videos caught his attention. It was the both of you, in an interview, Lando was reading something out of a flashcard, while you were looking at him.  

His eyes softened at that sight. He went to the comments and started to read some of them; "If my partner doesn't look at me the way Y/N looks at Lando, i don't want it", "she's so in love with him it's painful", "the guy is so oblivious. Somebody goes wake him up, I'm begging".  

"What are you doing baby?" Magui asked, entering the bedroom.  

"Nothing, just thinking" Lando said, almost whispering.  

"About what?" She questioned, sitting next to him.  

"Y/N." He simply answered, not noticing how his girlfriend's eyes darkened.  

"That girl really can't take a fucking hint." Magui exclaimed, sitting up. Lando looked at her confused. 

"What do you mean?" He asked. "What did you do Magui?" 

"Nothing. I just talked to her. Told her to stop being so weird with you." The girl explained.  

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Lando scoffed. "Did you tell her to stop bothering me?" Magui nodded. "Why did you do that?" 

"She's in love with you! She's all over you! You have a girlfriend Lando!" Magui yelled, throwing her arms up.  

"When has she ever been all over me?" Lando yelled too.  

"She was always looking for you, laughing at your jokes, trying to comfort you. Always trying to be near you, encouraging you. She has no limits." Magui said.  

"That's because she's a good person. Because she has compassion and because she cares." Lando replied, fed up. "You're fucking insane." He finished, standing up, going to the door.  

"Where are you going?" Magui asked, watching him go.  

"Far away from you." He said, grabbing the handle. "And by the way, we're done. It's over." He slammed the door.  

Lando took his phone out, going directly to your contact and sent you a simple "We have to talk", to which you only replied with a thumbs up.  

⁕ 

You were sitting in your living room, looking at Lando's text, which he sent you about thirty minutes ago. You didn't know how to reply, you didn't feel ready to talk to him still not over the humiliation you went through. What you really weren't expecting, was someone knocking at your door, at almost 11pm. And you really didn't expect the person on the other side of the door to be the man you've been avoiding.  

"What on earth are you doing here?" You asked him, letting him come in.  

"I had to talk to you. And you can't escape from me in here. So, i came." He explained, looking right at you.  

"What do you want to talk about?" You said, sitting on your sofa.  

"I don't want you to stop bothering me" he said. "All of what she said to you, none of it is true."  

"So, I'm not a creep who won't leave you alone?" You asked 

"I'd never say anything like that about you. Never in my whole life" He whispered, kneeling in front of you, so you'd look at him. "You never bothered me. I love it when we talk. I love it when you're next to me. I love it when you laugh at my jokes, and when you comfort me. And I can't even begin to tell you how much I love when you're looking at me."  

"Why?" You asked, your eyes finally meeting his. 

"Because it's only when your eyes are on me that I feel seen, that I feel understood. You get me Y/N." He explained, taking your hand in his. 

"I get you?" He nodded. "I feel seen too, when you look at me."  

"I broke up with Magui." He suddenly said, making you frown. 

"Weren't you happy with her?" You asked.  

"We argued a lot. She isn't the one for me." He replied, looking right at you. "I'd like to take you out."  

"Oh. Really?" Now, you were confused.  

"Yeah." He simply said.  

"Okay. Yeah, I'd like to go out with you." You said, smiling.  

liked by landonorris, carlorssainz and 14'879'665 others

tagged : landonorris

ynusername i guess he does belong with me

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username i'm dying

landonorris you belong with me love ❤️

ynusername my love ❤️ carlossainz okay first of, i feel hurt and betrayed landonorris don't. you're my baby too carlos ynusername #carlando4evah

THE END

taglist : @itsjustfranzi , @horseymchorse3 , @dontworryboutitokie , @random-bouts-of-randomness , @f1fantasys, @yawn-zi , @littlementalpolaroids , @cmleitora , @f85hxo , @prettypink11 ,

[woewriting]

amae (ii)

pairing: cairo sweet | reader summary: cairo's actions continue to frustrate you, but when unspoken words are finally said out loud, you understand her. word count: 4619 warnings: mdni, +18 only! jumpscare: mr. miller, sexual tension, a bit of angst, jealous cairo, small reader x winnie situation, scisorring, face riding (reader receiving), language, smut in general, brief softness.

part 1 . part 2 | masterlist

Apparently, college parties were a bit different in Tennessee, which was a sweet surprise to you. Different from the ones you were used to back in your hometown, this one was hosted at the English professor’s house  — you noticed as soon as you opened the front door, a picture of him with his wife near the entrance.

You raised your eyebrows when you bumped into your professor, an apologetic smile on his face.

“I didn't see you there, I'm sorry.” He touched your arm in a weak squeeze before placing his hand back in his pocket, the other holding a red mug.

“It's okay, Mr. Miller. I didn't know you would be here.” 

“I always host this reading before the actual party. My wife and I will go on a weekend trip and Winnie asked if she could host a ‘small’ gathering; apparently, the house they usually go to for the party is unavailable. Beatrice left after noon. Smart decision of hers.” You laughed at his expression, knowing damn well it would be anything but small. You could tell by the faces around you that you never saw in any of his classes or readings before. They didn’t exactly fit the ‘tortured-poet’ profile “Are you joining us for the reading? It started a few minutes ago, I just came to the kitchen to get some more coffee. Cairo should start at any moment.”

At the mention of her name, you felt a bitter taste in your mouth and you took a deep breath. 

A week had passed since the girl sat on your lap, kissed you, allowed you to touch her and then started acting as if nothing happened. During classes, you could feel her eyes on you, that uncomfortable feeling of being watched taking over your senses every five minutes, as if she was waiting for you to turn around and smile at her.

But you didn't. You avoided her like the plague. As soon as the class ended, you gathered your materials, plugged in your earphones and left without looking back. 

Winnie complained a few times about your sudden avoidance of her and Cairo, asking non stop what had happened, if she did something that got you upset, but all you could do was apologize and say you had a lot on your mind with finals and assignments with a short deadline. It wasn't a full lie, but the girl could see the change in your expressions.

And now, all that hard work to avoid the brunette would go downhill as she was waiting a couple steps away from where you were standing, waiting for Mr. Miller's returnal so she could read what she had prepared for tonight.

“Cairo and I aren't in the best place right now, if I'm being honest. I didn't know she would be here.” 

“Oh…” The man scratched his chin. “I didn't know that, I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do to help, don't hesitate in asking. I know Cairo, she can be… stubborn.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks at the statement. During your first days in Mr. Miller's class, Winnie kept you updated on the strange relationship Cairo had with your now professor; on how starstruck the young writer was at being close to someone she admires and looks up to. It was uncomfortable seeing how close he would be to her, making your stomach twist inside you with anxiety, yet there was nothing you could do as she seemed happy to be noticed by him. 

When you asked about this whole situation to Cairo, trying to disguise your reactions, she told you: “he is someone I admire and I know he can help me with my writing. I look forward to our meetings as I have his attention all to myself.” You gave her a small smile that nearly made your eyes shake. Just like now.

You blinked a few times, pursing your lips together. 

“We'll be fine.” You decided to answer, not truly believing in that. “But I appreciate the offering, Mr. Miller.”

“Anytime.” 

“Does your wife know that soon her house will have drunk people stumbling against the walls?” You asked in an attempt to ease the sudden awkward silence.

“God, no.” He laughed.

“I’ll try to keep the glass decoration in one piece.” Once again his hand rested on your arm for a few seconds in a silent ‘thank you’ before he checked the silvery watch on his wrist. 

“The reading is almost finished. Walk with me?”

Unable to deny the request, you simply nodded, walking in front of the professor as he motioned to you. 

The second you arrived in the living room, your eyes landed on her like a magnet. It might be because she was standing in the improvised stage by the window, or because of the deadly stare she locked on you when you walked in with Mr. Miller by your side. If she had a laser in her eyes, you'd be a sieve by now with thick blood covering the dark wood floor. 

A hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you to the corner. Winnie smiled at you, saying she saved you a seat by her side on the couch even though she wasn’t sure you'd be here for the reading. The childish side of yours screamed for you to answer her with: “if I knew she would be here, I wouldn't have come” in a very annoying voice, but you only smiled at her, squirming in the leather couch. 

The room was in complete silence, waiting for the girl staring at you to start her reading. Cairo took a deep breath, licking her dry lips to start. The sun was starting to descend on the window behind her, transforming that whole scene into a beautiful portrait that your mind would keep for as long as you could remember.

“And as I witness her most intense intentions through dark eyes, with hands marking mine own peachy skin in a bruising grasp, I fall asunder above her. My body; weak, begging, pleading for her merciless touch as I watch her slam the door shut. The smell of something burning fills the walls, yet it's not the smoke that leaves my lungs, it's the fog that fills as I turn, fated to fall and fated to fail, and wish for her gaze, my resolute resistance scrawled in sand, tumbling through her open hands just as through the neck of our hourglass.

From the high, the grayness takes form; thick, lascivious, dangerous. The unsureness of faith buries words that one day I aim to say. Miserable thing, watching with tearful eyes as she leaves. The tree branches knock on the window, witnessing the whole pitiful scene engraved in my memory.”

You paid attention to every word she enunciated with a strong, determined voice, it felt like she was trying to open your skull and carve each one onto your brain matter. You felt dizzy at them, heart beating fast against your ribcage. While everyone applauded the young writer, you clenched your jaw, swallowing nothing that would help your sudden dry mouth. 

Cairo smiled, the type of smile that would make anyone drop to their knees and pray for her. Winnie was excited by your side, the subtle scent of alcohol you smelled on her made you laugh. The girl was loud and, at the moment, when all eyes turned to you two, you regretted sitting by her side. From across the living room, your eyes met hers again, now sat beside Mr. Miller while he whispered something in her ear to which she smiled wide, turning to him. 

As another student took over the stage, you couldn’t absorb any words that were said, disappearing into thin air. All you could focus on was Cairo’s hand occasionally touching his forearm when she leaned to say something in his ear, earning a quiet laugh from the professor, the urge to stand up and drag her away from that bothering situation, instead you walked to the kitchen in hopes to find a single drop of alcohol that would make that tension vanish from your body. Soon, Winnie joined you. 

“This is so boring, my God!” She whined, sitting up on the kitchen island while eyeing you up and down in the bright light for the first time. “You’re  overdressed as usual, I see.”

“Your underwear as usual, I see.” Winnie spread her legs as long as the short leather skirt allowed her to, giving you the high quality view of a lacy underwear as she takes the vodka bottle from your hands, taking a long sip, feeling the burning spreading over her chest with a satisfied hum.

“You like?”

You let out a huff, looking away. “You wish.”

“I will kiss you one day.” She said more to herself than to you, like a secret promise that escaped due to the lack of inhibition — not that she had any, even in her sober moments that word didn't exist in her vocabulary.

Shaking your head at her statement, you pulled the sleeves of your sweater, taking the half empty bottle from her hands and getting ready to prepare yourself a drink that didn’t taste like a slow death. 

The reading kept on until the sun was completely set in the horizon, turning the living room into a dark scenario, lit only by the yellowish color from the table lamps. Slowly, the students started leaving while others arrived, walking in the house with bottles and bottles of alcohol, storing them in the kitchen’s fridge.

While you paid attention to the cup in your hands, wondering how long it would take for you to detach from the reality that was drowning you, you felt a bump on your shoulder.

“What is it?” 

Winnie signalized with her head, making you look over your shoulder, witnessing Cairo and Mr. Miller talking near the stairwell that would lead to the second floor of the house. 

“I think he wants to take her upstairs.”

“She can do whatever she wants, Winnie.” You mumbled, trying not to squeeze the cup in your hand when taking a sip. The bitterness making you frown. “Cairo is a big girl.”

“Are you sure about that?” 

“What do you mean?” Turning back to her, your eyebrows sewn together in confusion.

“Because she won’t stop looking at us.” You shrugged, finishing your drink in one long sip. You felt your stomach complain at the big wave of alcohol. 

“She can disappear with him for all I care.”

Winnie tilted her head, still looking at the two of them with narrowed eyes. “Oh, so I shouldn’t say they’re going upstairs and she seems pretty excited about it?”

“Yup, not a single thought about it is on my mind right now.” Grabbing the bottle again from her hands, less subtle and emptier than the first time, you poured yourself a very generous sip on your cup, drowsy smiling to Winnie when you handed over the, now completely empty, bottle. 

As the minutes went by and the alcohol went in, your control over your senses were slowly losing its grip and you started to worry about Cairo against your will. Controlling the impulse to run upstairs as you weren’t drunk enough to blame on the booze, you shook your head, leaning your body against Winnie’s while the girl talked excitedly to a random boy from the football team, your mind too caught up analyzing the things the young writer said earlier to pay attention to any conversation around you. 

The music wasn't loud enough as the professor still hadn't left, but you could feel every beat of it synchronized with the beat of your heart. 

Your fingers found the skin of Winnie's thigh, starting to draw random lines out of boredom. Other than the girl, and Cairo, you weren't familiar with the faces that kept on surging from the front door every five minutes.

“If you keep doing that, I'll drag you upstairs too.” Black whispered, making you tilt your chin up at her.

“Maybe you should.” 

Winnie was beautiful, you couldn't deny that. From the hazel eyes to the plump lips that looked so attractive at that moment, getting closer and closer, making a tingling feeling crawl over your legs like a spider. You wanted to kiss her, and you would have, if it weren't for the footsteps coming from behind you, making Black pull away. You knew it was Mr. Miller, the strong perfume making your nose burn. 

The older man stood in front of you, looking at Winnie who was still seated on the marble island, an innocent glow in her eyes that almost made you laugh, but a hand wrapping around your wrist pulled you away from that situation. All you could hear as you were being dragged to the — now empty — living room was Mr. Miller asking the girl to behave and to not destroy his house or he would fail her. You laughed to yourself.

“Did you seriously allowed Mr. Miller to take me upstairs?” Cairo asked, pulling at the sleeves of your sweater like a spoiled kid when you refused to look at her, waving at the professor when he turned around to leave, leaving the house and a bunch of teenagers and new-adults unsupervised.

Your eyes were dark and your body a little soft when you stared at her, yet you still were in control of your actions, the drinks just diminished the worry of doing or saying something wrong. At that point, you didn't care about what left your mouth. You wanted to curse the young writer.

“He's our English teacher, not a serial killer.”

“He could've forced me to do something!”

“You seemed pretty excited to go with him. Now, excuse me, I'm gonna find Winnie so we can finish what we were about to start.” Before you could walk past a furious Cairo, her hand, once again, glued to your chest.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You blew me off, Cairo. What did you expect? That I would run after you and beg for your attention?"

"Yes!"

You let out a breathy sigh, the corner of your lips up in disbelief. "You really are so self-centered, you don't care about anyone other than yourself. You're a fucking bitch!"

"And you're dying to fuck this self-centered bitch."

"Not after Mr. Miller, thank you." You scolf sarcastically.

"He didn't fuck me, you idiot.” The hand in your chest grabbed the fabric of your sweater, pulling you down to her so she could whisper with lips nearly pressing on yours. “He wasn't you." 

Her eyes softened as well as the fist that held you in place, moving it to the back of your head. 

Staring at her eyes, you didn't know what to find. You didn't even know what you wanted to find. Maybe a sincere answer.

“Cairo…” You started, sighing against her lips, closing your eyes for a brief moment, trying to gather cohesive words to form a sentence. You blamed the alcohol for this pathetic lack of senses. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to care. I want you to show how desperate you are to have me, how you crave my body in your hands.” You swallowed hard, carefully listening to the whispery confession, the soft motion of her lips grabbing your attention. Once again, you wanted to steal that small freckle from her upper lip. “I want you to burn my skin with your fingers and bruise me with your mouth. And if you really wanted me to be yours, you would've turned around, thrown me on that fucking bed and taken me.” The strong pronunciation of that last part got your body heating up, the urge in your chest spreading in your veins and mixing with the existing alcohol. 

“You’re not very clear in your intentions, Cairo. You’re good at saying everything and nothing.”

Taking your hand, the writer pressed it against her chest. She took a deep breath, goosebumps covering her body at the warm feeling of having your hand touching her again.

“Can you feel that?” You nodded, letting your forehead gently fall against hers. “Do you understand now or do I have to draw it for you?”

Suddenly, your brain became fogged and you were getting lost again. You saw dark brown eyes. You felt a strong bumping in your hands. You smelled woody cologne and cinnamon. Yet, you didn't know where to go. 

“I want you to draw for me.” You said, desperately trying to find the right path.

Cairo nodded her head, pulling you with her once again, but this time, with her fingers intertwined on yours and more gentle than the first time. You trailed behind, careful to not trip on the stairs as she led the both of you somewhere you didn't know, the lights were off on the second floor, making impossible for you to see anything that wasn't right in front of you.

You heard the sound of a door opening and being locked once closed. The moonlight was invading the room through the open curtains. Blinking a few times to adjust the blurred vision, you felt your body being pushed against a soft mattress and a lightweight on top of you.

“I'll draw it for you.” Cairo whispered, pressing her lips on yours in a chaste kiss. “Do you have any idea of what you do to me?” She asked while kissing down your neck, your hands squeezing her waist over the cotton fabric. You shook your head, licking your dry lips, still tasting her lip balm on them. “Here, let me show it to you.” 

Cairo sat on your hips, guiding one of your hands under the white dress, in between her legs. Flashbacks returned and your heart stopped beating for a second while she moved herself on your fingertips, eyes locked on yours, a smirk surging in the darkness. When you moaned at the warmth that embraced your fingers, she did the same.

You breathed out the air that was stuck in your lungs, affected by the scene that unwrapped in front of your eyes. It was a erotic, alluring view, slowly burning itself into your brain like a polaroid. A flash of smile drew on Cairo’s face, satisfied with the reactions coming from you, with the way your eyes stared at her with a dark, flame of desire, lips parted as you struggled to breath.

The cold touch of her rings sent shivers down your spine when her hand wrapped itself around your neck, pressing the sides of it, feeling the pulsating vein under her fingertips. A sob escaping her throat when your fingers easily slipped into her, burying themselves in the warmth of her velvety walls, clenching around you, while the heel of your hand pressed against her swollen clit.

A vile glow shining in the dark brown eyes when she leaned down, squeezing the sides of neck harder as she felt the knot inside her getting tighter. That feeling of desperation growing impatient in her chest.

“Have I lost myself, or have I gained you?” You asked in a soft voice, following a steady pace with your fingers as she moved herself on you. Even when you were the one carrying her in your hands, it was hers that controlled the air in your lungs. 

You’ve always seen Cairo as a spoiled girl that grew up in a big house, having all her wishes wrapped in a pretty paper waiting for her on her bed when she came home from school. But now, as she falls apart in your hands, saying your name like a sacred mantra, you saw beyond words and actions, you saw the urge to be held and cared for, like a little girl that didn’t get a hug after they wake up.  

Staring at her in awe, you felt tears coming to the brim of your eyes, the squeeze cutting every small space for the air to bring you life, but you didn't care, not when you saw the vision of what heaven must be like; the curly brown hair falling over her right shoulder, the soft strands tickling the skin of your neck as she fell over you, hiding on your chest.

Coming down from her high, Cairo carried a sly smile when she looked at you. Her kiss tasted like ashes, bitter, against your tongue. 

“You taste sweet.” The writer whispered in between kisses, sucking your tongue into her mouth over and over, sighing in pleasure at the fingers that slid off of her. Carefully bringing your coated fingers to your mouth, you wrapped your lips around them, being watched with full blown eyes every movement of yours.

“And you taste divine.” 

It only took a millisecond for her lips to meet yours once again, the softness of the act long forgotten as she bit your lower lip, tasting the iron in her tongue with a sadistic smile at the painful cry you let out, squeezing her ass in your hands; burning the peachy skin with your fingertips. The words of her writing echoing inside your brain, spreading it on your blood flow. 

“I like this sweater, you look charming in dark blue.” Her hand found the collar of it, tip of her fingers tracing the skin underneath, making the fabric itch around your neck. “Take it off.” Despite the sweet tone in her voice, you obeyed the breathy order, pulling it over your head and tossing it somewhere in the unknown bedroom. Cairo stood up, removing the brown leather boots and her own dress, the white lacey set that remained on her body making you gulp. 

The writer stood in between your legs, her hands on your hair while yours held her by her waist, goosebumps all over her body as you kissed the toned abs, softly biting the skin.

Cairo looked down at you with curious eyes, the tip of her tongue trapped between her teeth, admiring the small galaxies your mouth left all over her like she was an empty canvas that needed some color. And you were doing the perfect job, painting an universe on her skin as you knelt down, bringing her underwear along with it. The writer kicked the useless cloth, putting her leg over your shoulder and hooking it behind your head; you salivated at the view of her cunt glistening in front of you. 

One of her hands caressed your face with gentleness, her thumb sliding over your bottom lip before she made you open your mouth, pushing her hips closer to your lips. She was dripping on your tongue, the taste of her filling your mouth as you hummed in pleasure, licking what escaped your agape mouth. 

The big brown eyes stared at you in flames, burning your skin into a bright scarlet crimson. You nudge your nose closer to her, inhaling the intoxicating smell; everything about Cairo was sweet, from her last name, to her voice that could recite the most beautiful poem by core, to the honey flavor slick that dripped from her aching hole, running down her thighs at the view of you ready to worship her, and when your tongue slid in between her folds in a long, slow lick, her head fell back and a shiver went down her spine. 

Pressing your tongue flat over her hardened nub, you closed your eyes, the grip on your hair pulling you impossibly closer. You circled her clit with the tip of your tongue, drawing random patterns with precision on the sensitive nerve, earning yourself a praise that came with a smile when she looked down on you. 

Moving your hands up her thigh, you squeezed the muscle, making her ride on your tongue, aggressively and delicious. The sounds escaping your open mouth reverberated all over her sensitive flesh. 

Cairo was an exhibitionist, she adored having eyes on her all the time, paying attention to every admirable detail that was attached to her. And having you on your knees praying against her cunt was filthy, enticing and agonizing, that heat wave scorching her insides and melting on your tongue, and you made sure to swallow it with a gratifying smile.

You could suffocate in between her legs and it would be a heavenly death. 

Kissing your way up, you brought her body closer, circling her waist as she hooked both legs around you, sliding her tongue over your shiny lips before you dropped her on the bed. Cairo was about to complain at the lack of care, but she soon shut her mouth, watching you kick your converse to the side and unbuttoning the tailored pants that hugged your curves in the right places.

Taking a deep breath, you slid the fabric down, taking your underwear with you, the shyness taking over you once you were free from any cloth covering your body; all this being watched with lustful eyes. 

The young writer’s eyes pierced your soul, engraving in her brain every mole you had around your shoulders, silently choosing her favorite one to add to the list of small details of your body she loved and kept fresh in her memories, always making sure to add ‘em in her writing. It amazes her how you never noticed the importance you had in her work, you were her muse. 

“Come to me.”

She didn’t have to ask twice, at the sound of her sweet voice your feet led your body closer to hers, moving according to her words, your knees sinking in the mattress only to find balance on top of her.  Her hands on your back brought you closer and you fell, once again, into that piquant feeling where it felt like you were about to drown, but her lips on your neck got you breathing in fervor. 

It was easy for the brunette to take control, reversing positions and sitting atop your abdomen, gripping one of your legs and casting one of hers in between them, fitting herself against you. 

“Fuck, Cairo.” You mewl, closing your eyes at the aggressive way she pressed herself down, easily gliding on you. One of your hands found her thigh, squeezing the flesh until it blemished under your fingertips, moving your hips according to the pace she set. It was cruel, desperate, the dark brown eyes fluttering closed. 

The bed slammed against the wall, the old wood-frame fated to snap at any moment; you didn’t care, it was impossible to focus on anything that wasn’t the girl in between your legs, rubbing herself on you with an inner desire to split you in half. You dazed at her, the angelical aura surrounding her like an armor, preventing the sins from escaping the walls of the still unknown bedroom like the squelching noises were, the lewd sounds from the both of you echoing around the hallway for anyone that dared to come closer and press their ears against the locked door. 

When the impetuous climax hit you like a jolt of electricity spreading in your veins, Cairo fell on top of you, exhaustion taking over her senses as well as the tired muscles complaining from all the spasms. 

The writer looked at you, tearful eyes as you soothed her bare back with an equally pleasured expression. Your bodies were weak, relying on each other at such a delicate and overwhelming moment, marked in black and blue by your hands and mouth, a greedy memory that will last. And if it ever vanishes, like the galaxies made out of bruises, all you needed to do is knock on her window.

[urlocaldesertdweller]

His Ego (Stanford x Reader, PART 2)

(PART 1)

(Suggestive/borderline smut)

By request of an anon for a hate sex continuation of the link above! Also, this is a different ending from the first part!!!

(I tried rlly hard to make it something close to hate sex so I hope you can enjoy it either way)

You only can take so much from an egotistical asshole who thinks so highly of themselves. It frustrated you all the more that Stanford seemingly deemed you unworthy of his time from the say he came out of the portal.

You always had your own ways of fighting back, though, from "evidently" disturbing his private studies in the basement to inviting yourself to his outside adventures. You did this for many reasons, one to annoy him and two to discover why he hates you.

So, of course, when Dipper and Mabel told you that he was planning to return to the buried UFO behind town for further investigations. An idea of yours had struck your mind.

Self-invites were already a common thing between Ford and you. He would only tolerate you because the rest of the family would never let go of this odd, one-sided rivalry. He would mainly avoid you at all costs, even his own life, just to keep away from his own research.

But this time, you thought confidently to yourself on the hike. Things were going to be different, and that was a promise.

He handed you an extra magnet gun without making eye contact, so you'll live on the way down. He knew how much the twins and Stanley loved you. He knew that they would never forgive him if he let you die on purpose.

By the time you both finally landed in the large and dark hallways of the ship. You quickly followed behind him since he didn't care to bring a second light source for you. He had his limits, and you were, for some reason, at the top of the list (next to Bill).

A thick tension sticks between you as he stops in the room with the control room, setting his equipment, and starts to get to work. You watch him for a moment sucking a breath and gaining the courage.

As you step up next to him, you open your mouth to speak. But the moment catches up to you, and you make an awful mix of quiet screech and squeal, which makes Ford glare at you and sidestep away, still staring at you. You cover your mouth, close your eyes, cough, and gather your thoughts. You open your eyes as they harden on Ford.

Before he steps away, you grab his wrist. He is clearly confused, as you now have his full attention, and he turns his body towards you instead of the console.

"If you don't mind, can you let go of my wrist? Surely you have your own reasons for being here than to bother me."

Ford snarkily comments on your odd behavior. He looks at your hand, almost disgusted, and attempts to wiggle his lim away. But your surprising strength keeps him there. You finally speak up quickly, hushing Ford before he can comment on you again.

"Ford. You are nearing your 60s."

You grit your teeth as you think about how such an intelligent man like Ford can act bitterly to someone like yourself for some petty reason.

"What's the point of keeping up with this whole... Hate thing for me? Like, I'm actually confused about you! Why spend so much time and effort to hate on one person and have it be me?"

You are trying hard to shout as you break into a rant about all of the times he has treated you differently and how much it has affected you negatively. Your grip on his wrist goes into both of your hands on the lapels of his coat, nearly shaking him.

Ford is growing irritated not only by you putting your hands on him but also by you asking why he hates you so much. He roughly grabs your arms.

"Get a hold of yourself! You will activate something hazardous; it will all be your fault because you can't bear the fact that I strongly dislike you!"

He steps close, pushing a finger into your chest, and makes you step into the console. You chuckle as his response feels more like an excuse than anything. Your face hardens as you laugh, even in between the console and Ford. You push closer to Ford in an attempt to at least win by making him uncomfortable.

"Oh, it's going to be my fault? Of course, to you, everything is my fault when a small inconvenience happens to you!"

You are chest to chest, having to look up at Ford with his height. A finger raises to push to the tip of his nose mockingly.

"Because you think nothing bad ever comes from you, doesn't it? Isn't that right, little Mister Perfect?"

He pulls back as your finger lingers on his nose, his cheeks dust a warm pink.

"You always make assumptions about me. It's insane!"

Perhaps it's something in the aged air, but it only brings you more confidence. You stomp on his foot, and before you let him react, you take fistfuls of his coat, sweeping him to the console. He groans in pain and gasps at the suddenness of everything.

"What is it, Ford? Do you think that you are too good to even give me an answer to my question?"

He coughs as you push yourself against him. A determined look paints your expression, and he stares into your eyes, unsure of what to do. He does the occasional shift and shuffle, but your iron grip keeps him pinned and leaning comfortably on the console.

"It's anything but that! God forbid I can't be unrealistically nice to everyone on this doomed planet!"

He moves enough to leave him heaving. Eventually, it seems that the tension churns between you as you stare into each other eyes with an odd passion. You smirk until you peek at his lips; if force doesn't get the answer out, maybe being unpredictable could.

The silence speaks for itself as you roughly mash your lips into his. He gasps into the rough kiss, and he keeps his eyes open. You know how little experience Ford has in kissing and other spicy stuff, but you are more than willing to let him take on the challenge.

After a long minute or three, you tempt them to pry his soft lips with your warm tongue, and he resists, but with a hand to push his jawline, he becomes putty.

He can't help but gasp and feel his hips naturally move into yours as he steps into new foreign territory, making out. His reactions make you smirk; it encourages you to push him more as a hand rubs tenderly into the fat of his hip through his pants.

He pulls away, desperate for air; you chuckle, watching his turtleneck stretch and shift with his heaving chest. You don't wait for him; a sneaky finger finds its way to drag the turtle's neck down to reveal his delicious neck. You peck his skin from his shivering lips and strong jaw to, finally, his pale neck.

He mutters through his breath, asking you to be careful. You start with soft kisses to rough bites, making him yelp, which you shoot up, covering his mouth; you lean in close to his ear in a ticklish whisper to his ear.

"Who's going to activate something now, hm? Better hang on, Know it All, because I'm just starting."

He hums in slight confusion into your hand as he isn't prepared for your hand going from his hip to his growing bulge. You message it, pressing, twisting, poking it. His cock quickly wets the fabric making a notable stain.

He gasps and bites down on your hand. You keep it there for him; his reaction is worth every tooth mark on your hand.

He wriths under you, spitting out your hand. You expected a more suitable expression, but you were pleasantly surprised when he glared at you; he leaned to you in a raspy growl.

"I hate you... So much."

You giggle with evident delight enjoying him being pissed off. That is until you feel a hand snake around your back and push you into his hips. Catching you off guard and yelp.

Now, he is the one to smirk, and he starts to fall into an addicting rhythm between you and him. You are not happy to be caught, so off guard, your eyes twitch, and you feel your pride falter just a little.

"Don't make an old man like me all riled up and expect me to finish the job all by myself."

You sit up in one more attempt to roughly kiss him, hands, tongue, and all. He isn't surprised this time. He is a quick learner, after all. And a mix of tounges and saliva as Ford fights against you again, even during the long kiss.

He lasts longer, leaving you to pull away. You catch your breath, and listening to his comment makes you click in your brain.

"I thought you hated me. But don't you hate me nearly enough to keep me from being pushed away during intimacy?"

He stays quiet and stares at you unamused; his silence is up to you whether he truly feels about you.

Nevertheless, this is progress between you and Ford. Besides, you had a long "investigation" session with Ford in the UFO.

[trueangel420]

dealer!kai ୨ৎ, fem reader, (srry) degradation, p in v , rough kai era (omg i cant with this guysforgive me) , wc 1702

You had no business being in Kai's home. You knew better, and Winter had warned you to stay away from her brother. Part of you knew not to go near him—he was a drug dealer, older than you, and surrounded by too many taboos. It made your brain hurt. You didn't want to betray Winter, so you promised. You promised not to get involved with Winter's brother.

And now, here you were sitting stiffly on his living room couch. Winter was gone for a few days, off with her girlfriend, so you thought you'd just get a free joint or two from Kai. That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a smoke sesh, and then straight home.

Kai glanced at you as he grabbed what he needed, placing everything on the tray on his lap. “Relax,” he said, his eyes tracing the outline of your figure. “I don't bite.” You wished you could believe that, but you shrugged, trying not to seem so uptight. It was hard with Kai. He had an intensity about him, even when he wasn't doing anything—it drove you crazy. His thick veiny fingers began filling the cones with weed, stuffing it in gently.

You cocked your head, watching him. Lewd thoughts crossed your mind, but you pushed them away. you wish he would bite—you were actually dizzy at the thought imagine him, latching his mouth on you like it was his last meal? like…you shook your head a bit straightening up in the seat trying to shift further away from him.

This was Winter's brother, and you promised. Your eyes traced the shape of his nose as he continued, licking the wrapping paper and folding it together. Was he doing that on purpose? He had to be. “You're staring,” he pointed out, breaking your trance. You quickly avoided his eye contact—had he been watching you the whole time?

“Sorry,” you murmured shyly. God, this was pitiful. You could feel your underwear dampening, and he hadn't done anything except make you a pre-roll. Yet here you were, practically drooling over him in your mind.

“Here,” he said, lighting it for you. He brought it to his own lips first, taking a long, slow drag from the joint. The smoke swirled around him. “You don't talk much, do you?” he asked, passing the joint to you. His voice was low and smooth, sending shivers down your spine. You struggled to control yourself, feeling like a rabid dog every time you stared at him too long. Clearing your throat, you brought the joint to your lips and inhaled. “I do, it's just... I don't know, I'm uptight right now.”

He nodded, his intense gaze never leaving yours. “I can tell,” he said, his voice low. His presence was overwhelming, and you could feel the heat radiating off him as if he was reading your every thought. He moved closer, turning his body facing you. “Let me guess,” he said, his eyes narrowing as if peering into your soul. Oh no, you didn't like where this was going. You just wanted to smoke, go home, and maybe daydream about him, not have him unravel your thoughts right here.

“Be honest with me”

You looked at him for a moment, bringing the joint to your lips again. A calm, fuzzy feeling was starting to kick in, relaxing your tense muscles. “About what? I have nothing to hide…” you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady, but it faltered. You'd already said too much. He noted the way you smoked nervously, the way you coughed out the words quickly, he was savoring it like a predator savoring the fear of its prey.

“I know Winter told you to stay away from me. She told me the same thing,” he said casually, moving closer as he spoke. “And to be honest, I don't listen to Winter,” he added, now putting his arm behind your shoulders.

“You... you don't?” Your eyes were wide as he smiled at you.

“I don't, baby,” he replied, grabbing the joint back and bringing it to his lips, inhaling slowly. A smirk tugged at his lips as he watched you gawk at him, looking like a deer in headlights.

“So what does that mean?” you whispered.

He exhaled the smoke in your face, his eyes never leaving yours. “It means I want you, and I'm gonna ask if you want me too. It's a yes or no question, but if you say yes, you might like what I've been thinking about doing all night.”

You blinked slowly, processing his words. Did he mean what you thought he did? He couldn't have.

“Yes,” that simple word made him smile wider.. He was prepared for this; he put out the joint between his lips on the ashtray as he shifted up off of the couch, looking down at your wide-eyed appearance. “Shorts off,” he demanded, unbuckling his belt, waiting for you to follow his demand. Of course, you obliged, maybe faster than he expected, but you managed to shuffle them off and stand in front of him. “I always thought you were desperate for me. Guess I was right?” He cooed, and you felt your cheeks burn as he finally tugged his belt off. “was i? Answer me,” you nodded, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth. God, this was embarrassing.

“Floor, ass up, face down,” he demanded, pulling you into his chest as he slid off his sweats. “do it”

The floor was cold and hard; you could feel his fingers running down the slit of your underwear—he was savoring every moment of this. “Soaked,” he mumbled, his fingers swiping back and forth on your clothed clit. “You’ve been like this for a while, huh?” You didn’t reply; your head was fuzzy and your body was aching. “Slut,” he whispered, taking his cock out of his boxers, pressing his pink tip against you, and rubbing it up and down your sticky folds.

You were so brain dead by now; you’d let him do anything he wanted, and he planned on it. He could tell by that glazed-over look in your eyes that he could get away with as much as he wanted. “Pull them to the side for me,” he said, tugging on your underwear. You nodded frantically, pulling it to the side as your body sank further onto the floor, your face flushing and your skin tingling as he pressed his cock between the folds again, this time the warmth of it making you arch back further for him. Kai thought you never looked more beautiful; he’d never seen you so relaxed and so thoughtless. He wasn’t even in you, and you couldn’t help but whine, but he didn’t have that much restraint; he didn’t need to.

His hands snaked around your body, feeling you up, squeezing you, and playing around with your tits for a moment. He could hear you panting; the position was almost humiliating; you were on the ground, back arched with his chest pressed against you. He was so close now, his breath hitting your ear as he grunted out a sentence. “I’m not going to be gentle.”

“Wha-” You tried to get out, but he interrupted you, plunging his cock into you and not letting you adjust to his size. You practically hissed at the size of him, the feeling of him forcing your lower stomach to poke out slightly, his bulge, and he knew it; he knew how well endowed he was—that’s why he chose this position so you wouldn’t know how much you had to take, so you wouldn’t be scared. Your brain was foggy; he kept one hand gripping the fat of your ass as he pounded into you and the other tightly holding a fist full of your hair, pulling you towards him. His breaths were heavy, and he couldn’t help but stare down at you—at your body. Some days he would pray to have you like this, all disheveled—sweaty—loud. When he figured out you wanted the same, all restraint was gone.

Your eyes were closed tightly; you were too foggy, too fuzzy, and all he could do was bury himself inside of you roughly. His eyes were focused; he’d let out grunts and strangled moans. He didn’t need you to know the effect or the desperation he held for you.

“So,” He thrust harder into you, his breath deep and low. “Messy.” he continued, his bicep now resting under your neck. He had you in a headlock, still moving against you. You shuddered at the fact that you were actually letting him do anything to you; you forgot all about your promise. He was slamming into you, and you were squealing, the sensation was all too much, you started to squirm. He tightened his arm around your neck.

The sounds of your pussy squeezing around him filled the living room. “You’ll have a limp,” he groaned into your ear, speeding up, shutting his eyes momentarily—he was so close. You can only whimper at his words, the lack of oxygen making you clench around him. “You like that? the idea of limping because of me?” He tightened his bicep around your neck, silencing you completely, and your face flushed a deep shade of red. “Slut.” You felt your eyes rolling back as he spoke, still grinding deep inside you. He watched as you neared fainting, then released you, pressing your face against the cold floor. Gasping for breath, you struggled to steady yourself.

“C’mon, breathe, breathe baby,” he teased, laughing at you as he maintained his pace. He grabbed your hips, his voice dripping with faux concern. “Did I make you stupid? You look so fucked out right now,” he said, his grip tightening. you clench around him more, Letting out a pant as your body tensed, you found yourself suddenly finishing around him. The shock was so intense you couldn't even choke out a response, feeling a tingling sensation spread through your brain and stomach. “Look at my slut—fuck” his stomach tightened as he pumped into you spilling his cum inside of you letting your body collapse weakly, he stayed inside you plugging you up in hopes—you’d get pregnant.

[schoenpepper]

Isekai'd Chronicles 7

Intro: Diasomnia in an isekai AU.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, proofread by quillbot, ankle injury in Silver's part, Malleus being a cutie, also Silver's a fae

A/N: Diasomnia isn't my favorite dorm in the whole entire world, that's for sure. I tried though, but the ooc might be worse than usual. Enjoy.

Masterlist

You've made up with your friends, hurray! In exchange for some space, you fill out your calendar to hang out with them because they don't seem to want to do it as a group. Tonight, you've decided to take a stroll into the woods near the human dormitory to clear your mind. Things have just been far too hectic lately, and you don't really understand why the capture targets seem a bit overly fond of you, if not possessive. There seem to be fireflies in the distance, and you chase after it subconsciously, your feet leading you deeper into the forest. The lights coalesce into an intimidating figure with horns and one of the most beautiful faces you've ever seen. Malleus Draconia, right, the fae prince likes to walk around randomly in the middle of the night.

For all you've done to try and avoid the male leads, you sure haven't done a very good job.

He greets you and calls you 'Child of Man'. When you take a step back, you see a flash of hurt on his face, and it makes you take a few more steps forward to give him a rather shaky greeting back. You've promised yourself not to get closer to the love interests more than you already have, but he's rather pitiful like this, isn't he? You lend him an ear and talk quietly in the woods with him, and you think maybe it's time to give up your 'avoid the male leads to avoid the bad endings' thing, since it very clearly does not work. Malleus is rather eloquent, so conversation comes easily even though he starts talking about gargoyles. You don't mind gargoyles, and you've gotten really good at dealing with infodumps because of Jade, so you let him rant his endless amount of gargoyle knowledge while occasionally chipping in your own thoughts. And before you know it, it's somehow become a nightly thing, and he's teleporting you both to all sorts of random places so he can talk about ancient architecture. You find his infodumping to be rather relaxing, actually, as are your nightly walks, so you're not too against it. You even manage to rant to him about your own hyperfixations.

He's a very good listener and a very good friend, and at this point, you don't care about that stupid otome game anymore. No, seriously, it's almost been a full year and those main characters that are supposed to be flirting left and right aren't anywhere in sight.

One more male lead that's not going to kill you, yay! Though at this point, there's only one love interest left. Maybe, if you're real lucky, you won't meet him.

"Child of Man?"

You're a little nervous when you hand over the ticket for the culture festival. Sure he probably has a seat in the VIP section but, you hoped the ones you have are good enough for him. "Uh, Tsunotarou, you can use this to get a seat in that play I'm on. I know they're not the best seats in the house, but they're the show's family tickets, and I'd really rather not have my family see me like that." He looks expressionlessly at the ticket in his hands.

"I don't think any of my friends are too interested in the tickets, and you said you're upset you're never invited so—" You cut off your rambling with a defeated sigh. Maybe you're not as close to him as you'd thought.

"Thank you, Child of Man." At least, until he gives you the sweetest smile you've ever seen as he clutches the ticket close to his heart. "For inviting me."

Of course you're not lucky. If you were lucky, you wouldn't have gotten reincarnated into this game. You walk into the garden to try to find that pesky ingredient you were missing for Crewel's class, and you stumble right onto the last target. Literally.

You trip over Silver Vanrouge and fall very ungracefully to the ground, wincing in pain before the pretty man holds out a hand to you. You take his offer and stand up, and congratulate yourself for successfully managing to sprain an ankle. He's apologizing and offering to carry you to the infirmary which you initially decline. If any of your very clingy friends see you in the arms of Malleus' knight, they'll have very different reactions, but you just know none of them will be good! Still, you don't have much of a choice when you try to walk to prove to him that you can, and fall right back to the ground.

He's kind enough to lend you his shoulder once you explain about your friends, and you hop over to the infirmary while cracking stupid jokes that makes a pretty smile crop up on his pretty face. Why is this school just so chock full of pretty boys? He spends the better part of a week helping you because he insists that the injury is his fault. Though you try to tell him that he was just sleeping and had nothing to do with your own stupidity, he claps back with a 'I shouldn't have been sleeping in the gardens anyway', and you just can't argue with that. He's really good with a knife as he cuts you up some fruit that he bought for you, and you do your homework with him as company. Your first year friends gave you very unamused looks when you tried to ask them to help keep your senpais out of your room for fear of what they'd do when they found out you were injured, but they do it begrudgingly once you promise to make some treats for them once your ankle got all better. Even as your injury's all healed up, Silver doesn't seem too keen on leaving you be, and eventually, he's another friend to you.

Aren't you happy? Now all the capture targets are very unlikely to kill you.

The air is quiet, which isn't too unusual when you're with Silver. What is unusual, is the low, slightly sad mood he seems to be in. He looks at you when he asks a question. "Do you think that...humans and fae can be together?"

You shrug. This world's a romance video game after all, who are you to judge people's racial preferences?

"I think it doesn't matter who you want to be with. Especially when your lifespans are uneven. You already have such a short amount of time to be together, so you might as well make the most of it." You comment offhandedly. He doesn't respond, and when you look in his direction, he has an expression of shock and realization on his face.

"Right. What matters should be that they make the most of it..." He repeats in a soft whisper. "Love is a little less complicated than I thought it would be." 

[somethingjustsouthofbrilliance]

Phileas Fogg and Touch Aversion

I'm going to try to resurrect a post I had written on twitter a while ago when I still had an account there (and when it was still called twitter). It's long, so bear with me, and do keep in mind that these are just my hc's and there's always room for interpretation.

***

So one thing that becomes clear about Phileas from the start is how much he tries to avoid physical touch. Even with those he knows well, like Grayson. Look at how stiff he is here, how he avoids eye contact, how he leans back a tiniest bit.

This physical discomfort is even more obvious with strangers, of course. Especially with strangers who threatened and intimidated him only hours earlier. Even when the contact is no longer a threatening one (you all remember senor Moretti, yes?)

Remember the aborted hugs? The man is so excited to see Passepartout alive that he forgets himself for a moment....

...only to remember at the last minute and have the hug become nothing more than an awkward (safe?) handshake

or, in Abigail's case, a near-pat on the arms

But it's something deeper than just simple intimacy avoidance. There seems to be a discomfort, a fear almost of physical closeness with ADULTS. I'm going to veer onto a slight tangent here that ties into my hc about Fogg's childhood and take a look at this scene in the desert:

Remember how incredulous Passepartout was when Fogg asked him to move because he, ostensibly, couldn't pee otherwise? "I thought you went to boarding school" he said, the implication being "why are you so afraid of having someone stand next to you when you pee?"

The whole situation is funny to Passepartout (and meant to be so to us as well), but Fogg doesn't appear to be amused in the slightest. He pleads, actually pleads with Passepartout to move. And look at how uncomfortable he is. How he tries to block out Passepartout's presence.

And look at this moment here. This is where Passepartout whips out his joystick &starts watering the sand. Look at that cringe, that nervous swallow. I'm not saying this man was definitely traumatized in boarding school, but... he was definitely traumatized at boarding school

This is not to say that he can't handle physical contact at all. He can and does when the situation demands it. When it's a matter of life or death, for instance.

But notice the reluctance, the uncertainty even here.

The only time he DOESN'T hesitate? When someone else needs it, needs HIM.

When it's him alone however? Even when the touch isn't remotely threatening?

He freaks out and tries to run.

And when running is not an option? Freezes like a deer in the headlights.

This moment here shocked him so completely that he drew a blank on all thought, and it wasn't until the lieutenant had uttered the word "coward" - the word that keeps driving him forward - that he snapped out of it

It's different, of course, when it's Estella.

He doesn't shy away from her touch. Welcomes it instead.

Initiates the hug and follows through

Estella is safe. Estella cares about him. Estella would never hurt him. But that kind of safety, that kind of certainty - it doesn't exist where other adults are concerned. Not yet. So he errs on the side of caution and stays back when everyone around him is hugging and celebrating

Doesn't respond to enthusiastic shoulder pats and friendly arm squeezes when he makes his triumphant return home. He looks uncomfortable. Lost. Wary.

Compare that to Abigail's reaction in the same scene

But there are also others whom Phileas is comfortable with, in addition to Estella. Those whom he doesn't view as a threat: kids.

Look here at Alberto plopping to sit down right next to him. Phileas doesn't even flinch. Accepts his presence easily with no discomfort shown

Smiles at Alberto just as easily, too.

Look at Noori here. She grabs him by the hand, drags him behind her. He doesn't mind one bit.

Look at Fogg's reaction when that girl runs out to hug him. He is surprised but not frightened. He goes soft and maybe even a little happy. He hugs her back. He thanks her.

Now look at the difference when Abigail goes to do the same. He stiffens immediately. Pulls back. His whole posture screams "get away".

It doesn't mean he doesn't WANT the physical touch. He does. Longs for it, in fact.

But he believes he lost his chance for this closeness, he mourns the loss of it, and he doesn't think it's for him anymore. He's also likely afraid to test if what he believes is true.

BUT... But... There's a silver lining to all this. Because there IS character growth for him in more ways than one, and he DOES become braver and stronger in more ways than one. And in the end he DOES dare to reach out and he DOES find the courage to NOT pull away.

If you've gotten this far, thank you for reading :) And please come check out my ATWI80D fics where all of this is explored in greater (and angstier) detail. ;)

[lizzieisright]

Moon peppers (3)

(2)

Palestine: what can you do

were!Abby x witch!reader

Summary: Abby runs away from her (former) pack and into your forest. You're not happy with your new (woods?)mate.

Tags: fantasy au, sloppy worldbuilding (fuck it we ball), fem!reader, alpha!abby, witch!reader (so not an omega), sentient forest, stubborn idiots in love who annoy each other.

Notes: near-death experience, Caitvi being the cutest.

Taglist: @abbysbae @poxismind @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @pjmispunk @herdelreydear @lmaoo-spiderman (if you want me to tag/untag you for the whole series dm me please)

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Annoyance prickles you all the way home. You feel a little exhausted after having your shields around yourself for so long, and if it wasn't for the stupid wolf, you'd be fine. You can't shake your irritation: you even offered the wolf peace, and it still attacked you! You keep in mind that the wolf might not be lucid - like it was with the bear, and you had to bring it back to the human form while avoiding getting killed - but on the other hand, it moved away when you threatened it with magic. 

“Fucking weres.” You spit and trip on a root. “Ouch. What, you have a soft spot for them?” 

The woods don't answer and you huff. You're used to the forest’s weirdness and mood swings, but sometimes you don't understand them. Who would have thought you can have an argument with a forest? But you had, on multiple occasions, and it showed that the forest remarkably worse at communicating than an emotionally stunned man.

When you see your hut, you let your shields down and take a long, tired breath. The wolf destroyed your sense of safety in the woods, and it makes your blood boil from fury, but you take another breath and try to calm down.

After all these years your anger is still the hardest to control. You still shake with the desire to just hit something, but it is still better than the desire to choke someone until they go cold and stiff. But it's hard to let go of this irritation and you haven't found a way to let it out-

Oh. Actually, you know a way. 

You sigh and slump on your porch to take a small break and recharge. The shields around the hut are not powered by your flow of magic, rather than by the bunch of stones and threads underground that you have to charge from time to time, so at least this is not draining you right now.

Fucking werewolf. 

You look over the edge of your shields and get angry again at the wolf. Your anger springs you into action, and you go inside your hut to get your things together. You take the fish out and put it in the chest full of ice - you're not cooking dinner today, you have no patience for it. 

You put another bottle of special tincture and head out, eager to go somewhere where there's no crazy werewolves. You're grim and the woods feel it, and they're rightfully offended by your attitude, but you can't bring yourself to care right now. Your mood is not directed at them rather than at one furry monster, and you know the forest knows it too, so you don't bother with sorries or excuses: you are not going to lie about your feelings, and you're tired from bottling up your anger.

As if not feeling anger is a goddamn requirement to be a good person.

When you're out of the forest, the sun gets closer to the horizon, and the evening's lights are beautiful enough for you to forget your spite for a moment. 

Then you continue stomping your way down the path and past the village, until you reach the odd house. 

You knock, shifting from foot to foot, and wait for someone to open the door. It takes a moment, but then Vi opens the door and the suspicion on her face turns into surprise when she sees you. 

“Damn, what happened to you?” 

“Can you spar with me?” You ask impatiently and come inside when Vi lets you in. 

“Is it a bottle in your sac, witch?” The dwarf grins and you roll your eyes. “I'm always happy to kick your ass, don't worry.”

“Thanks.”

Vi leads you to the kitchen where Caitlyn is cooking something and you shiver when you feel her magic: elven magic comes from stars, so it always feels cold. It's unnerving and makes you feel deep loneliness, and you don't know how Caitlyn deals with it. Do all elves feel as lonely as her magic makes you feel? 

But then Vi leaves a quick kiss on Caitlyn’s cheek and you chuckle. Vi, as any other dwarf, works with fire and metal, she always runs hot or is covered in coal, so you guess she balances Caitlyn and keeps her warm. 

“Darling!” Caitlyn smiles and hugs you, sending another wave of shivers down your spine. “You came back earlier than I expected.”

“She is going through some shit.” Vi immediately tells on you and you throw her a nasty look. “Listen, I didn't come here and ask to spar instead of saying hello.”

You huff and sit down on a soft chair, unloading your sac on the table. Vi grabs the bottle right away, but Caitlyn gently takes it and places it on the shelf. 

“Did anything happen?” The elf asks carefully and you let out a depressed snort. Caitlyn pours tea for all of you while Vi grumbles that she wanted her booze, but she still takes a sip.

“Another fucking were.” You say, defeated.

“No fucking way.” Vi groans. She was the one who had to deal with the bear after you brought it back and let's just say, they both didn't enjoy the experience, cursing and cussing at each other nonstop.

“It chased me to the hut, tried to jump me at least five times, refused to change back into human form and took Sevika's den. And when I warned it that she will come back and kill it, it made me walk backwards until I was out of its territory, growling and snarling at me. Un-fucking-believable.” You sigh. “And I'm so anxious my magic became unstable. I almost boiled myself alive.”

Caitlyn's face is so full of sympathy and concern it's hard to look at, so you look at Vi instead. She looks puzzled and just as annoyed as you are. 

“Is it a bear? Again?” Vi asks and it's almost funny how she is still full of spite after the werebear. “Why do you always get the crazy ones?”

“They fucking sense my own crazy.” You grump. “It's a wolf. A giant one, I've never seen them this big.”

“Probably an alpha, then.” Caitlyn says. “It's strange. Wolves live in packs.”

“Well, this explains the aggression.” You try to joke, but you sound more anxious than before. “I fell into the river today because of it.”

Vi cackles and you want to punch her. 

“So I'm angry. This is why I want to spar.”

“I think it is not wise for you to spar with Vi when your magic is unstable. I much prefer my starlight healthy and happy.”

Vi is clearly embarrassed by being called starlight - as always - but Caitlyn's loving look stops her from complaining and you from teasing. Elves are infinite and their love is too big and encompassing for mortals, however long they can live (Vi has another 500 years ahead of her, you think), and it's too much sometimes. 

“Have you been meditating like I showed you before?”

You feel stupid. 

“No.” You sound embarrassed, as you should be, but again - your anger management is still work in progress. 

“Well then. Let us go to the garden and I will guide you through it. Then you can spar with Vi, if you still wish to.”

You nod and follow Caitlyn. 

It's dark when Abby wakes up, and she feels better. The food and sleep helped her recover, and now she can finally change into human form to treat the rest of her wounds. 

The problem is, she doesn't have any supplies, since you took all of the moon peppers. So she will have to find something that will help her before she returns to her human form. 

For a brief moment she considers talking to you, since you are too weak to be a threat, when she gets better, but then she remembers you standing next to her blood stains near the den and the consideration is forgotten. 

So Abby cautiously shows her nose out of her den and takes a long sniff. Thankfully there is no one around who can hurt her, so Abby gets to her feet and goes for her search. 

Her wolf nose is more sensitive and she can smell more plants and animals around her than when she is a human, and it takes her less time to get to a comfrey bush. It's not in bloom, but Abby can still use it on her injuries to help with some of them that still bleed. 

Abby takes a breath and turns into her human form. She stands on her fours, shaking and grunting as the new level of pain washes over her body, but it slowly subsides. Abby is breathing deeply through it until her head stops spinning and the shaking goes away. Then she is able to sit down and check herself. 

Abby slowly raises her shirt up and winces in pain. Her right side has three deep long scratches that have been closing but not fully, so her shirt is soaked in blood, but that is what comfrey can help with. Her left thigh and calf have seen better days, and the hole from the claws stings painfully when Abby tries to move. It might be infected already, and this thought terrifies Abby. She thinks about going into the village to see their healer, but she might give herself away, so she will have to deal with it herself. 

Abby slowly breaks a few stems and starts turning them into mush - it would have been easier if she actually had a mortar, but alas, she has to adapt to her current situation, so she just kneads the stems in her hands until it's as gooey as it could get. Then she applies it to her side and moans in pain. 

“Fuck.” Abby whispers, but the mush helps immediately: her werewolf healing is way faster than anyone's in the world and her wounds finally close for good. It doesn't mean it's healed fully, but at least Abby stopped losing blood and avoided infections. 

Abby smells her former packmates one second, and the next second she is back into her wolf form. They're surrounding her from every direction and Abby tries her best not to panic, but somewhere deep in herself she knows she is not going to make it this time. There are obviously more wolves than before, hell, did Isaac bring the whole pack just to end her?

Abby hears growling from behind and turns around to face her threat, but the blow comes from the side, and Abby falls. She expects them to immediately go for her throat, but the wolves step away, clearly waiting for her to get up. 

Oh, so this is going to be a whole humiliation party, Abby thinks, but stands up anyway. They want to make an example of her - well, she is not going to let it happen. If Abby is going down, someone will go down with her. 

Abby narrows her eyes and tries to pick up Isaac’s scent and attack him, but he is nowhere to be found. Abby then moves to her closest target and attacks the wolf, going straight for their neck - it's a weaker one and Abby is sure she is going to kill it, but they're quick and Abby misses, falls on her feet again.

Someone jumps on top of her and bites into her shoulder, but Abby throws them off and leaves a nasty bite on their stomach - even if they escape, they will die on their way home. That brings her some satisfaction, but it's short-lived: another wolf jumps and bites her scruff. It hurts, but Abby throws them off again.

Then they're relentless: she throws off one wolf and another attacks her. Abby is getting exhausted and it's hard to get up now, but she still does. Her hind legs are shaking and her just closed wounds are open, but she snarls at her previous packmates, not giving up. 

Abby is happy she doesn't pick up Manny's scent among them. 

Suddenly wolves stop and step away, and Abby smells Isaac. Fucking coward waited until his wolves tired Abby out so he would stand a chance against her. He'd never win in an alpha on alpha fight, and everyone knows it. It makes him look pathetic and Abby knows wolves can smell her contempt and feel how Isaac's presence triggers her alpha’s pheromones. Some wolves whine, scared of her even when Abby is so weak she takes two tries to stand up, and Abby's smells like boasting. 

Isaac growls and shows off his own pheromones, but Abby overpowers him by a mile, which in return pisses him off and he lunges at Abby. 

They clash and Abby puts all her strength into most fatal attacks, clawing at his most vulnerable spots, but Isaac gets away from her.

Abby is panting and shaking, she is getting dizzy as her body starts to give up, and Isaac feels it. He lunges again with more force and keeps biting and clawing, waiting for Abby to slip up. 

And Abby slips up. 

Fangs sink into her throat and Abby whines as a piece of meat gets ripped out of her. She can't breathe, she is choking on her own blood as everything starts to fade away. 

Her former pack leaves only when all of them are sure Abby is dead and her heartbeat can't be heard and her scent can't be smelled. 

Isaac huffs in triumph at Abby's lifeless body and leads his pack out of the woods.

“So, do you still wish to spar with Vi?” Caitlyn asks after you finished your meditation. It's not the most comfortable experience and you'd really like to have some hot tea now, but you feel calmer and the flow of magic in your body is more stable. 

“No. Thank you, Caitlyn.”

The elf smiles gently and leads you back to the kitchen where Vi is already sipping your tincture. 

“You can't be left alone, can you?” Caitlyn sighs lovingly and Vi grins. 

“Try it. It's great. Not to your posh elven standards, your majesty, but you will like it anyway.”

Caitlyn huffs, embarrassed, and lightly slaps Vi's bicep. She just chuckles, catches her hand and leaves a gentle kiss on her palm. 

“You're adorable.” You coo and Caitlyn smiles at you. “I think I'll be going now. The forest wasn't happy with me.”

“Just like that?” Vi complains. “Next time bring two bottles.”

You laugh and leave after saying your goodbyes to the odd couple. 

It's dark outside now, and you come back to the forest with a lighter heart than before. The forest is silent, but you don't feel any anger towards yourself, so you're a little puzzled. 

And then your path suddenly makes a wrong turn. You don't question it and just follow wherever the forest leads you: it happens from time to time and you're always happy to help, especially now, when you're in such a good mood. You get suspicious when you recognise the path leading to Sevika’s den, but then it takes a different turn and you calm down. This is the way to comfrey and you walk confidently since it's familiar.

You reach the bushes and then you see blood on the ground. Oh, this is not good.

You follow the blood and you see the big shadow of the wolf on the ground. You flinch, scared it will attack you again, but it doesn't make a sound and it doesn't move. You come closer and now you can see it’s covered in blood and its back doesn't rise like it's supposed to if it was breathing.

“Fuck." You whisper. "Hey!” You call, but the wolf doesn't react. 

You make a few steps closer and then you run to the wolf when you exactly how much blood is there. There's a giant hole where its throat is supposed to be and you feel the cold dread crawl on your back. 

“Fuck. Fuck! What do you want me to do?” You ask the forest angrily. “I'm not powerful enough, I can't do shit!” You're on the verge of tears: yes, the wolf is annoying and scary, but it doesn't deserve to die! 

The woods respond with a gentle warm breeze and you take a deep breath as your fingers grip wolf's fur. Okay. Okay, there is an option which you're afraid to use, but it will work. Well, if the forest agrees, of course.

“Give me one of your trees and I'll be able to save the wolf.” You say quietly, knowing you have no right to ask for it, knowing the woods have no reason to trust you or believe you won't become dangerous again, but it is literally the only way. 

You're also afraid and you don't trust yourself, but the wolf is dead and you can save it. You can bring it back to life. You have no idea what happened to the wolf, but it simply doesn't deserve to die. 

You sigh and go around the wolf to the tree behind it. Your hands are shaking but you firmly put them on the bark and gasp: you feel the life energy flow in it, the forest will let you do this. It's so much your breath hitches but you calm yourself and begin to drain the tree.

You hear the rusting of the leaves as they turn into ash and your body gets filled with the life force of the tree. It's exhilarating and you can't help your surprised giggle when you feel your magic grow. Fuck, it's been so long since you felt so powerful and you feel alive.

The half of the tree is gone and you now notice that your hands are glowing. But it's not your hands that are glowing, these are your tattoos and runes. It makes you flinch in terror as memories flow through your head, but you keep going and try not to pay attention to every line and letter and patch that glows through your clothes. You haven't seen them in years and you'd much prefer not to see them ever again, but alas, the power comes with consequences. 

Everything now is covered in ash and you feel like you're going to burst from this amount of life energy in your body, so you quickly come back to the wolf and hold its head between your hands, and then you start pouring the energy into its lifeless body. Your tattoos stop glowing so violently as time passes and you see how the wolf's throat grows back and gets covered in fur. The wolf finally exhales loudly and inhales again, and you feel its heart restart. 

You sigh, relieved, and sit down, still holding the wolf's head and putting more energy into it, but now you're calm: the wolf breathes and gets warmer with every second. 

You murmur a spell that will let you continue giving the energy to the wolf and then you cast another one that makes the wolf float and follow you to the hut. 

You notice the blood on your hands and take a shaky breath as an ancient temptation gets the hold of you: you can put this wolf in debt, you can make it leave you alone (which is a not a fair price, but you have priorities), you can do whatever you want since you have its blood. 

You swallow sickly and shake your head to calm down. 

When you get to your hut you're not sure where to place the wolf: it will take a night and a day to finish healing, but the moment the wolf wakes up it will try to kill you, so you need to do something. It's not your greatest idea, but you really have no other option except to leave it outside and risk the wolf running away and breaking the bond. So you go to your stillroom, put all the protective spells you know on everything so the wolf won't trash the place, and summon some furs so the wolf won't be lying on the cold floor. You stand there for a second and cast restraints on the wolf - again, stupid idea, but it's for your own safety. Tomorrow, when the wolf wakes up you'll explain everything and release it, of course, but if you want a chance on said explain, the wolf should be restrained. 

When you go to bed you become aware of just how much energy will stay in your body after this, and it makes your heart sink. 

You only hope it won't drive you mad.

[williamrikers]

thoughts on the first episode of 4 minutes

everyone seems to be doing these now, so i'll join in bc i need a way to process what i just saw. putting this under a cut bc of spoilers—if you are familiar with boc's other works (especially kinnporsche and dff) i strongly recommend you try and avoid spoilers before watching! i watched this episode not knowing what was coming and That Scene made me shriek so loudly i probably scared my neighbours. ANYWAY.

okay let's get the big thing out of the way first. bas and fuaiz. HOLY SHIT. i was literally pausing the whole time to text my friend just "WHAT" over and over. They Did That.

let me break this down. boc took one look at the current politics regarding shipped couples in bl, said "yeah we're not doing that" and let bas and fuaiz have a whole entire sex scene. (while gmmtv, for example, let phuwin and thor not even touch lips on wednesday club because phuwin is part of a sacred Shipped Couple.) AND WHAT A SEX SCENE IT WAS!!! i am pretty sure we're gonna see everyone's bare ass over the course of this show. if this is what they're showing us in the very first episode for a couple who i'm guessing might not be endgame?? i mean. damn. what will jes and bible get up to??? mark me down as scared and horny 🫣

sex in boc shows is usually pretty explicit but in this case it's also. just a thing two people do? it's not romanticised. it's strongly implied that tonkla is having sex with korn because korn is paying him for it. korn is older and from an incredibly rich family, and while they were sweet with each other and obviously both enjoyed it, it did feel like a transaction a little bit.

what i found most impressive about this scene was that we got to see tonkla being left alone afterwards and then visibly dealing with that. we could watch him processing—i don't think i've ever seen this kind of post sex unhappiness depicted in bl, and it was so beautifully subtle! we don't yet know whether tonkla was just unhappy with how that particular evening went or if he is unhappy with the arrangement as a whole, but Something Is Definitely Up and it is so incredibly intriguing.

while we're talking about korn, the family dynamics in this show have me in a chokehold. bas and bible as brothers was a genius casting choice, they really do feel like siblings, they have a very sweet vibe together while korn is obviously worried about his younger brother. the whole deal with their father's illegal business of which korn only learns when he is supposed to manage it, the way korn treats his father in general, korn's mother having passed away shortly after his birth and korn being raised by his step-mother (great's mom), it's all so incredibly juicy. bas just has so much presence on screen, he is an absolutely wonderful actor and at this point, i am almost more invested in his story than in the main story 🤭

speaking of which: love that bible got one of his cats to act with him 😂😂 thailand's number one cat dad. but yeah, i am Intrigued, i am seated, i am so happy to be alive to witness this. i don't think there's a lot to be said on this yet bc most of the episode was exposition and great learning about his new powers, and also the narrative tying them to near-death experiences so that we know what we're dealing with going forward. (shout-out to job here bc it was so nice to see him again and also so weird to see him as a character who is actually smart haha 😂)

the production value of this show is off the charts. the first scene of great being pulled back in time was ABSOLUTELY BREATHTAKING. literally the best i've ever seen out of thailand. boc are taking their craft very seriously and it is just such a joy to watch.

also, the numbers everywhere! it got to the point that i was like, oh of COURSE she is in room number 4, WHERE ELSE?? 😂😂

i am so seated for this show. like i cannot express how seated i am. BRING IT ON, BE ON CLOUD.

[fallinforerling]

can we get a 13 and 16 angst to fluff with jude please x

in the wrong - jb

A/N: screaming, crying, throwing up. this one has a bit of a double POV that jumps from jude’s to reader’s. i love to write little angst to fluff thingies, especially with jude. send your request! remember that feedback it’s always welcomed. love you xx

ೃ⁀➷ jude’s taglist 

ೃ⁀➷ jude’s masterlist

ೃ⁀➷ masterlist

: ̗̀➛ requested phrases

13. “why are you calling me? it's two a.m.”

16. “i'm angry but i still love you”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Was this a sick joke or something? 

Your eyes followed the movements of Sasha, the “friend” that crashed from time to time on your reunions, always cheeky and happy to be there. But you knew better. She was into Jude; it was very evident, but your boyfriend didn’t seem to agree with you. Every time you brought up the way she would always find an excuse to be near him, whisper into his ear, or just touch him for no apparent reason, he would say you were seeing things, that there was nothing to worry about. That you were crazy. And, of course, she didn’t care that you, his girlfriend, were there to witness it all. 

You were furious. 

“Babe?” You called, wanting to get Jude to your side as fast as possible before Sasha could get her hands on his chest or something like that. “Can you come here for a second?” 

Jude knows you. He noticed the way you were avoiding any type of chatter, with arms crossed and no sight of even a tiny smile on your face. You were mad, that was evident. But he chose to ignore it since it happened every time Sasha was around. He didn’t get it. Yeah, maybe you didn’t like her as much, but he wasn’t going to avoid her just because of that. 

“What’s up?” He seemed a bit apprehensive, since your eyes were sparkling the kind of way they always did when your blood was boiling.

“Can we head home? I’m tired.” 

“Now?” He turned back to see all his friends still chatting and drinking. “Can we stay a bit longer? The night’s just starting, babe.” 

You took a deep breath, not wanting to seem like a difficult person. But God, you just wanted to leave. 

“Is it because of Sasha? Babe, come on. She’s just friendly, we’ve been over this before.” 

Oh?

“Friendly?” That word alone made you forget about being easy. He brought it up. “Jude, she flirts with you all the time. You can’t tell me you don’t notice it!” Your eyes went directly to her, who was on the other corner, looking at both of you with a tiny smirk, like she was enjoying the effect she had on you. “She’s waiting for the right opportunity to make a move. And yes, I don’t tolerate her. So, can we please go?” 

He stood there, looking at you with a frown for a few seconds before sighing. 

“I don’t see it because there’s nothing to see. She’s a friend, and if you want to leave just because you can’t stand a person, then you’re free to leave…” He regretted saying that as soon as it came out of his mouth, but it was too late. You were already doing that thing with your mouth when you were about to explode.

Your whole face went from angry to serious, obviously offended. He just basically kicked you out of the party, choosing a practical stranger who loved to flirt with him over you? 

“Oh! So I am the problem… Okay, fine.” You turned, and before he could say anything to make you stay, you were out the house. 

He was dumbfounded. He didn’t expected that reaction, since you were the calmest person to ever exist. He followed outside, trying to catch you, but the only thing he saw were your car’s lights before it hit the curve. 

Fuck. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

As soon as you were inside your car, you muted your phone. There was no way in hell you were answering anyone’s texts right now, especially not Jude’s. 

How dare he? Implying that you were not only imagining things, but also telling you to just leave if you weren’t happy around Sasha. He was the biggest asshole in the whole world. You hated crying, but it was impossible not to when you thought about it all. Why did he act like he didn’t get it? How many times did you reassured him when he felt insecure? Why wasn’t he doing the same for you? 

A slight sob escaped your mouth, and you felt grateful that at least you were near home. Crying while driving was a bad combination. Biting your lip, you speeded a bit more, wanting to get out of the car as soon as possible. All you could think about was that your boyfriend didn’t even care. 

When you finally made it inside, you weren’t letting yourself just fall into bed and cry yourself to sleep, even though that was all that you wanted. That was out of the question. So you headed to the bathroom, taking all your accessories and clothes off while walking. 

“Fucking prick.” You murmured, throwing a high heel against the floor without actual force, just wanting to let some of the anger out. 

You just couldn’t get your head around how the night ended. He was such an…

“Stop! Stop thinking about him, it’s not worth it.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Jude was growing more and more worried as the minutes passed. He tried calling and texting, but you weren’t picking up your phone. It’s been almost an hour, and even if he tried to, there was no actual way of getting a car to take him to your place immediately. He had to wait at least another thirty minutes, which was hell. He deserved to be left behind after what he said to you, but he couldn’t stand not knowing where you were and if you were okay. 

“Please pick up, please, please.” He murmured like a prayer, pacing back and forth. “I’m such a prick…” It was the twentieth call he made just this past ten minutes, and you were still not picking up.

When he was about to make attempt number twenty one, the door to the backyard opened. Jude turned a bit, just in time to see Sasha’s grin while approaching him. He didn’t have time for this. 

“What’s wrong, Jude? Your little girlfriend abandoned you, didn’t she?” Jude stared at her with an arched eyebrow, not feeling the little joking tone she was using while referring to you. “Ah, come on! Don’t let her ruin your night, we can still have fun…” One of her hands brushed against his arm, making him slightly uncomfortable with the way her eyes were looking at him. 

Why was she staring at him like that…? Oh…

“Yeah, no… That’s not happening.” He made the space between them wider, still holding the phone to his ear. The realization that what you said was absolutely true hit him like a truck. Yeah, he was the fucking prick. “I don’t know what told you I’d ever cheat on my girl, but whatever it was, nonexistent. Now, excuse me, but I have to get to her house before she thinks I’ll ever waste my time on you or anyone else.” 

Sasha stood there, with an open mouth and an offended expression for a long time, even after Jude left her all alone in the backyard. Just as he was about to leave the house, his phone rang. His heart made a little twist, hopeful about you calling him back, but what he saw was the best second option of the night. Thank God.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It was around two a.m. when your phone started to ring. You groaned, regretting unmuting it at the last minute. Why did it had to rang just when you were finally falling asleep? Your eyelids felt so heavy that you could barely see the phone screen as you answered, already knowing that it might be Jude. 

“Hello?” 

“Are you home?” Jude’s voice was a bit agitated. 

Your eyebrows furrowed, annoyed by the interruption and a little bit by his voice. 

“Where else would I be, Jude?” You paused, checking the time. “Besides, why are you calling me? It’s two a.m.” 

“Because there’s no way I’ll go to bed knowing my girl is mad at me.” He sighed. “You were right, as always… Can you open the door? I left my key at home.” 

“What?” That woke you up. 

You got out of bed as fast as you could, going straight to the living room so you could look outside. And yes, there he was, looking up at you, like he was waiting to see you peeking out of that exact window. 

“So?” He shouted, smiling a bit despite the absence of reaction from your side. 

Without a word, you went directly to the door. While opening, you felt your heart a bit heavier on your chest. He came. Once the door was open, you both stared at each other with big eyes; he seemed scared of standing there, and you were feeling a mixture of happiness and desire to punch him in the face. 

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing that fell out of his lips, making you smirk a bit. “She was, indeed, flirting with me. And I didn’t want you to leave, I don’t know why I said that.” When you didn’t reply, he got closer. “Can I come in?” 

“What do you think?” You didn’t move from the door, still looking at him with a frown. 

“I think you want to punch me in the face.” Despite that statement, he held you by the waist. “I’ll make it up to you.” 

You didn’t know the exact way he was offering to make it up, but you didn’t actually care. Because he was there, and he was saying he was sorry. He did care. 

“Okay, you can come in.” When you gave him enough space to do so, he held you fully, embracing you with his arms until you couldn’t breathe properly. 

“You’re still angry, aren’t you?” 

“Of course I’m angry, Jude… But I still love you… Sadly for me.” The last thing you said was in a joking way, trying to get on his nerves as much as he did a few hours ago. Payback and all that. 

“Hey! Not fair! I’m an idiot, yes… But never stop loving me for that.” His face was buried in your neck, so you could feel the vibrations of his voice and the warmth of his breath on your skin. “Never stop loving me, please.” This time, it sounded a bit like begging. 

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. 

“Never…” And somehow, yours sounded like begging as well. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *  JUDE’S TAGLIST

@mentalbaddie | @taintedstranger | @mrs-dasilvasantoss | @mbapbaesluvr | @roses-arerosies | @cinderellawithashoe | @yoitsmo07 | @seajjin | @kakuchosbff | @peterparkerbae | @alwaysclassyeagle | @itsjuspenny-blog | @lbsmainblog | @youngjayla | @freetimemachinequeen | @chaeryeongstuff | @lazyreadergirl | @trentismine | @ironmaiden1313 | @wavessmile | @jul1ettt | @daydream-er | @citrusjunosart | @pierre-gasssllyy | @avianawrites | @topguncultleader | @blahhhhhbleeplop | @ricsaigasalec | @koufaxx | @xjval | @444pantheress | @f1lover55

[st-eve-barnes]

You know that I'm no good (chapter 2)

(modern Aegon x Reader, modern Sihtric x Reader)

Summary: You want Sihtric. Aegon wants Skade. There's only one small problem: Sihtric and Skade are dating each other.

This chapter: Aegon tries to convince you to (fake) date him and the whole thing has an unexpected effect on you.

Warning for the entire series: 18+ for explicit language and smut. Angst/comfort/fluff. Fake dating and so much mutual pining. Mentions of depression/drinking/self harm.

This is an Aegon x Reader fic with a bit of Sihtric x Reader on the side. I've wanted to write a modern AU that combines The Last Kingdom and House of the dragon for a while now so here it is!

Thank you to everyone for the likes/comments and love for the first chapter, let's get this thing going ;)

Word count: +2700

Read chapter 1 Here

***

All my fics are also on AO3

***

You were having breakfast in a local coffee shop a few days later. It was still pretty chilly outside for a July morning but you had insisted on sitting outside near the river anyway, wanting to catch the first rays of sunshine before starting work.

You took a long, satisfying sip from your caramel macchiato and then almost choked on it when someone suddenly slipped into the chair in front of you, startling you.

“Fuck,” your hand grabbed at your heart,”Aegon, what the hell?”

Aegon was looking at you with a little smirk on his lips before he sipped from his black coffee. His long hair was framing his face this morning, curly and messy as if he’d just gotten out of bed, which was probably the case. He kept his eyes on yours as he spoke,”Morning, my darling.”

His morning voice definitely betrayed he hadn’t been up for very long.

“I’m not your darling,” you smirked back at him.

“Ahh, but you could be,” he teased.

You shook your head firmly.”Um…no.”

He placed his coffee on the table and put his hands together, giving you his best puppy dog eyes,”Come on, why not? It wouldn’t even be real, just a way to get their attention.”

You sighed,”Because…It’ll never work.”

“We don’t know that if we don’t try.”

You stirred in your coffee while you looked at him but kept shaking your head.

“We get along fairly well, right?” he then asked.

“We don’t know each other, Aegon.”

“Okay, but…we get along, right?” he just repeated, making you sigh again.

“Yes, I guess we do,” you caved.

“And, I mean the idea of being with me doesn’t repulse you or anything, does it?”

You smiled,”No, you don’t repulse me.”

That wasn’t a lie, he wasn’t your type but you could admit he was a pretty attractive guy, objectively speaking.

“Good,” he grinned,”I think I can stomach being with you as well. Just for the plan, you know.”

You hit him on the arm and he gave you a cheeky grin.

It was such a small moment but it made you realize how strangely comfortable you felt around him, despite not knowing him very well. Come to think of it he’d always had that calming effect on you, much like Helaena. Maybe it was a Targaryen thing (Aemond excluded of course because he made you feel anything but calm).

But was it enough to go through with this whole thing?

“I just…I don’t know if I can do it, Aegon. I’m not that good of an actress.”

“Will you try, please?” he asked again and for the first time you could hear the desperation in his voice. He wasn’t just playing around, he wanted this to work, he wanted Skade to notice him just as much as you wanted Sihtric to notice you.

“She means that much to you, huh?” you realized.

He avoided your eyes for a moment and returned the question,”He means that much to you?”

”I don’t even know him,” you admitted,”But I feel like I’d really want to.”

Aegon stayed quiet for a moment before he continued,”I don’t know her that well either, but…I really liked her, I didn’t want to kick her out of bed after fucking her, which is a lot for me.”

You rolled your eyes at that information.”Charming.”

“She had me so completely under her spell,” he continued,”And then, just like that, it was all over.”

“Hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he nodded,”So…can we at least give this a go? Let’s just go the club on Friday with the others and if we happen to see Skade and Sihtric there we can just…play it up a little, test the waters and see if they notice. And if they don’t we can drop the whole thing, no harm done.”

“I don’t know,” you still hesitated.

“Okay…well, I’m not going to push you if you really don’t want to.” His voice was sincere and it somehow made you more open to the idea.

You sighed deeply, thinking of Sihtric and how nothing you had done so far had managed to get his attention, after months of pining you were still completely invisible to him. Maybe it was time you tried something completely different, more bold. 

Like dating Aegon Targaryen.

“Okay, fine, maybe,” you caved.

“Maybe? Or fine?” 

“Okay, fine, god you’re so pushy,” you rolled your eyes again but also couldn’t help but smile at the way he was beaming at you, his smile lighting up his entire face now.

“Okay! Good, this is great! You won’t regret it, I promise.”

“Oh, I’m already regretting it,” you sighed but your smile stayed on your face as he kept his sleepy, blue eyes on you.

***

The club was filled that night, summer bringing in a mix of locals and tourists making the place more crowded than usual. Helaena was already on the dance floor when you arrived, giving you a quick wave before she returned her attention back to the guy she was dancing with, one of Jaces friends.

Aemond was sitting by the bar, as usual far away from the dancing crowd and focussed on watching everyone while he enjoyed his drink in peace.

You searched the room for Aegon but there was no sign of him yet. 

You ordered yourself a drink before deciding to make your way over to the dance floor to join Helaena. That’s when you saw him. And her.

Sihtric, and Skade, having a full-on make out session right in the middle of the dance floor. You instantly regretted coming here tonight and the urge to flee was growing fast. You could be on your couch right now under a warm, comfortable blanket watching a movie you loved instead of here, with heels that were painfully high and a dress that made it hard to move, forced to look at things that would only break your heart.

Just as you were about to turn on your heel you felt a warm hand on your arm.

“Where do you think you’re going, babe?” Helaena’s voice pulled you from your bad thoughts.

You smiled, pretending everything was okay,”To the dance floor, obviously.”

She locked arms with you and dragged you with her, leaving Sihtric and Skade behind.

After a few drinks and a few dances you were actually starting to feel a little bit better, as usual Helaena’s relaxed and positive aura managed to rub off on you. Or maybe it was also the alcohol taking the edge off a little bit, either way you were grateful for it. 

It lasted for about an hour, until you both exchanged the dance floor for a booth in the corner of the club and they were right there again, making out in the booth next to yours. 

If you didn’t know any better you would think he was doing this on purpose just to spite you. But of course he wasn’t, he didn’t even know you existed.

You lowered your eyes and avoided looking at them, feeling worse by the second until you felt a warm comforting hand on your knee. You looked up and much to your surprise it wasn’t Helaena but Aegon’s blue eyes that greeted you.

“Hey, my darling,” he teased, that familiar smirk back on his face.

“Hi, Aegon,” you smiled. 

“You look beautiful tonight, that dress really brings out your tits.”

“Aegon!” you laughed and shook your head.

“What? I can’t say that you have great tits? I’m your boyfriend, I’m allowed to say that, right?”

“Fake boyfriend,” you stated.

“Whatever, you look amazing tonight,” he was blushing a little now.

“Thank you, I guess,” you accepted his compliment.

“Are they here?” he then asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded at the booth next to yours,”They’re here.”

Aegon took one look behind him, finding Sihtric and Skade still all over each other, and immediately turned his attention back to you,”Damn.”

“Yeah, damn,” you sighed.

Despite your best efforts you couldn’t tear your eyes off them, the way Sihtric’s large hand moved up her thigh to pull her closer as he kissed her. The way she hugged him back, her perfect figure melting into his while his other hand tangled into her beautiful long blonde curls. She looked like the kind of girl every man fantasized about. She looked nothing like you. 

And just like that your self confidence started to crumble, Aegon’s compliment fading into the background while those voices in your head grew louder and louder, reminding you of all your insecurities. 

You look nothing like her. He will never want you. You will be alone for the rest of your life. 

Aegon noticed your absent stare and he squeezed your knee again, reminding you he was right there.

He moved a little closer to you, blocking Sihtric from your sight.“Hey, eyes on me,” he spoke softly,”Don’t look at them.”

You did as he asked, locking eyes with him.

“You alright?” Aegon then asked.

“Yeah, of course, it’s just the alcohol, it always makes me more emotional, I’m fine.”

That was only half a lie, it was mostly the Viking making you emotional, and the blonde who was practically sitting in his lap by now, claiming her territory.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Aegon grabbed your chin between his thumb and his index finger and turned your face towards his.”I told you to stop looking,” he repeated, firmer this time,”Don’t torture yourself like that, babe.”

“Sorry,” you sighed, lowering your eyes again but Aegon was quick to lift up your chin again, forcing your eyes to lock with his.

“Keep them on me, yeah?” he whispered.

You nodded and allowed yourself to shamelessly stare into his eyes. His gaze was soft but with a hint of mischief in there and you realized you had never noticed how beautiful his eyes were before now. For a moment you wanted nothing more than to stay lost in them. 

It had been a long time since you’d been this close to a guy and even longer since anyone had looked at you like that. Even if it was just Aegon and none of it was real, it still made you feel all warm inside.

“Can I touch you?” he then asked softly,”Just…to pretend…if you’re still up for it, that is.”

You smiled softly at him asking for your consent and you nodded your head.“Yes, you can touch me, Aegon.”

He smiled relieved and moved his hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing your neck in the process and you actually shivered at his gentle touch. He leaned in a little closer to you as well, making it look as if you were almost hugging even though there was still plenty of space between you both.

Without speaking another word he moved his face closer to yours and softly nuzzled your cheek, his breath warm against your skin. You couldn’t help but feel your face heat up. You placed your hands on his hips and he smiled against your cheek.

“Is this okay?” you asked.

Aegon laughed softly,”Yes, it’s okay, sweetheart, you can touch me anywhere you want, you don’t need to ask.” 

Then he followed your lead and placed his free hand on your waist, pulling you a little closer to him while he nuzzled your jaw and your neck. You gave into it, leaning into his touch as you closed your eyes. When you moved your hand up to gently run it through his hair you could hear him let out the softest appreciative moan. It encouraged you to keep going and Aegon rewarded you with a soft kiss on your cheek.

“Well, shit,” Helaena’s voice made you both look up.

“What is it?” Aegon asked.

“This stupid plan might actually work,” she snickered.

“What do you mean?” you asked and you quickly took a sip from your drink, trying to hide how flustered you felt.

“Skade just had her eyes on you this entire time, Aegs,” she pointed out.“And Sihtric,” she turned to you,”I think you’re no longer invisible to him because he’s looking at you right now. They are so bothered, holy shit.”

You were lost for words at her statement and before you could check you watched Sihtric get up from his table and drag Skade with him. They passed by your group without acknowledging any of you.

Aegon laughed and you couldn’t help but laugh with him.

“Well, I guess we have to go through with it now, love,” he gave you a satisfied, cheeky smirk while his hand gently squeezed your hip.

“Yeah, I guess we do,” you sighed softly. You wanted to sound apprehensive or a little annoyed even, but all you could really focus on was that little spark of excitement bubbling at the thought of having Aegon as your devoted, handsy, fake boyfriend.

****

You blamed it on two things. 

The first was that you’d been severely touch starved for years now, it had been a long time since your last boyfriend and since then you’d only had a few short flings, each one as disappointing as the next. Needless to say it didn’t encourage you to keep up an active dating life and somewhere between those last flings you had just given up and focussed on your studying.

Then you’d started work and it became even harder to meet people. You always had a small circle of friends and plenty of acquaintances but finding that one special person seemed like an impossible dream, one you eventually stopped chasing.

You weren’t unhappy with your life, you loved your job in the local bookstore, loved your little apartment looking out on the Itchen river. Winchester was the best place in the world to live, you were sure of that even though you had never left the UK. 

The city was vibrant and lively but also somehow serene and filled with lots of nature and quiet spots. You had stuck around here after finishing university and hadn’t regretted it for a single second.

You met Helaena during your first year of university here and the both of you had become instant best friends. She and her family had lived in the city their entire lives. The Targaryens were old money, known by everyone in the city and owning some of the most renowned businesses in town. 

You never cared about the money, to you Helaena was just your quirky, sweet friend with her two weird brothers. (Probably three weird brothers but you had never met Daeron before so you still had to give him the benefit of the doubt.)

Anyway, back to you being touch starved, the point was you’d been on your own for a long time now without anyone to give you any sort of real affection. And you hadn’t even really realized that until that night in the club.

Which brings you to the second thing: Aegon.

You had never seen him as anything other than your best friend’s brother, and you still didn’t, it wasn’t that you suddenly developed feelings for him. But the way he flirted and took care of you that night, all those casual touches and innocent kisses on your cheek had awakened something in you and by the end of that night your emotions were all over the place.

And it wasn’t because of him, it was because he made you realize how badly you wanted that, a caring partner by your side, someone who looked out for you, made you feel less alone in this cold world. Someone to make you feel loved and wanted. There had never been anyone like that for you and Aegon’s kindness and affection reminded you of just how lonely you’d been.

After you’d said goodbye to him and Helaena that night you had felt a strange sort of emptiness clutch at your heart, like something vital was missing from your life. 

And with that feeling came a determination to go ahead with this plan however stupid it might be. It was time to take matters into your own hands and fight for what you wanted. Regardless of how it would end, at least you would be able to put an end to this pointless crush you’d been harboring for months now. 

If it didn’t work out, you could finally move on.

And if dating Aegon Targaryen was the price you had to pay to make Sihtric finally notice you, then you would happily pay.

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Space ~ B.A.

A/n: LOVE touching on the way Iris and Barry create their relationship by high key sabotaging every other possibility bc they feel inevitable... great shit.

Request: “Barry x male reader, reader and Barry been having issues so reader goes to stay with Kara for awhile.” By anon

Word Count: 2,000+

MASTERLIST

"So... are we going to talk about that?"

Y/n's jaw worked as he mulled over Kara's question. He couldn't expect her not to ask questions after all of that. She was a good friend, she worried. And Y/n didn't want to spend this entire trip running from his feelings. It would only make things worse.

On the other hand he really didn't want to talk about it.

But that may have been him trying to run from his feelings. Like usual. How well did that ever go?

He looked at her, taking in her barely contained curiosity and anxiety. The last time she had run into Barry and his boyfriend the two were newly in love after ages of pining and beating around the bush. They were full of relief at being able to hold hands and use pet names, and got borderline ridiculous if they ever kissed. Kara had joked they were the goal; the base line. Someone would look at her that way someday.

Now the two men were cold and distant, and when they'd gotten Kara the help she needed and Barry went to go back to his own world Y/n had asked to stay? In an entirely different universe where Barry Allen didn't even know who Y/n L/n was. Had never even heard of him. They were complete strangers in this world.

Sighing, Y/n leaned against the desk behind him and Kara tried not to grin as she realized he was about to talk about his feelings. Y/n never did such things no matter how many times she prodded and begged - but this was not a situation that called for smiling or teasing. She listened instead as Y/n began, "Barry and I have been having problems."

Kara raised an eyebrow. She was hesitant to push such a delicate string of luck but it seemed Y/n was about to stop and he really hadn't said much yet. "Problems?"

Once he started he couldn't stop. "First it was the newspaper with Iris' byline. I mean, he's been in love with her for near his entire life and everything was screaming that she would choose him back eventually. Eddie died, Patty and Linda didn't work out for several reasons - mostly because he couldn't open up to them. But that's not-" He closed his eyes, realizing he was going off on a tangent. "The point is," he began again slowly. "Barry and Iris are like, soulmates? Or something? And it started with the newspaper but then there was Earth 2, and the fact that they always know each other everywhere we go - even if vaguely. Like they're drawn to each other. Inevitable. There are worlds where I don't know Barry Allen and he doesn't know me, but they always have each other."

Slowly, Kara asked, "You're jealous of Iris?"

Y/n scoffed. "I'm not just mindlessly jealous. It wouldn't bother me so much if the name on the by line of the newspaper had changed. If it said Iris West instead, or Iris soemthing-else. But it doesn't. It still Iris West-Allen. And I feel like... a filler." His shoulders sagged and his face twisted with agony. "It doesn't help that he started to drop our plans to hang out with her. And I realized that actually he always prioritizes her. Our plans never overlap, like he's desperate not to have to choose, and then they do and he chooses her. And it's fine, she's family, but I thought I was too. I thought we'd at least be equally as important. And then Savitar comes and he goes after Iris - still. Iris and Barry weren't together, but his life falls apart if she dies. Like-" He blinked tears out of his eyes. "Like she's his whole world. Cisco can't save him, or Caitlyn."

"Or you," Kara realized, her face crumbling as it fully settled in.

The man shrugged. "Or me. And I tried bringing it up to him but he refuses to acknowledge it and scrambles to avoid the topic and I feel like he knows he's in love with her but doesn't want to admit it. I feel like I really am filler and he knows it, that his very atoms are waiting for her and it's just this unspoken inevitability. I'm only here for now and that's it and I'm not supposed to address it, I'm not supposed to see it, but I do and that really sets him on edge. Or- something does at least. I don't know! He won't talk to me!"

Immediately Kara pulled Y/n into a hug. Y/n let her, curling into her comforting warmth and knowing he could fully collapse and she would be fine. "Would it help if I helped you work through what other options there are? Discussions are hard to have if you have one out come stuck in your head, and then often turn into arguments that accomplish nothing."

Chuckling, Y/n wiped his face. "You're so smart Kara." And he meant it so genuinely she couldn't even joke that he was full of it. He seemed relieved to be able to talk about it, talk through it. She believed that truly was the case. "Please," he sighed. "Please tell me there are other options than what I think there are."

Kara hummed, tightening the hug for a split second before leaning away so they could meet eye to eye as they spoke. This was a conversation where he needed to know she was being absolutely truthful and genuine. "Well, first of all he could have the exact same fears as you. He could truly and deeply be in love with you and be scared that it'll all be for nothing. Fate and knowing your future - it';s a terrifying thought. Especially when no matter what you do, it never changes."

Y/n nodded. That was a perfectly logical option. "Anything else?"

She was ready for the question. "His life has been really difficult. He's constantly losing people, and being a superhero is extremely hard on a person. It's demanding and draining and leaves no room for even a single mistake. You're gambling with the life of every single person. Their happiness and stability. It's not a reason to treat anyone badly but I could understand if his work life and super hero life being so complicated and dangerous doesn't leave a deep desire for a normal, more straight forward life. Maybe he got it in his head that things with you were supposed to be easy and now... they're not. And he's too burnt out or anxious to address it."

Oh. Very quickly Y/n was calming down. Hearing all the other alternatives were very grounding and loosened the pit of doom in his stomach. "Anything else?"

Nodding, Kara continued. "He may not be taking your emotions seriously and either isn't realizing how your emotions are affecting you, or thinks they're some kind of accusation. He may even not understand that when you bring this up its concerning how you feel about it and not necessarily about him or anything he's doing at all. It's a pile up of things that all point your brain in one direction, and the way that makes you feel may be irrational or very rational, but either way he isn't the person who chooses Iris. And he may be one day, or he may not, but if he thinks you're accusing him of some sort of cheating when he couldn't imagine ever doing something to you?" She shrugged. "Like getting mad at someone for doing something in a dream. And it still means something to you but he isn't clocking that - all he can see is you blaming him for something he didn't do."

Y/n actually had the audacity to smile. "We would argue over me feeling insecure and it making him feel like I hate him. Or doubt him." He rolled his eyes but there was a little fondness there and Kara felt hope surge through her. Not all was lost yet. "We would end up arguing like we are over both of us just being insecure and not communicating it int he way we need to." He sighed, long and laboriously.

Kara just decided to skip to another option. "Or he's being an asshole and he does know it upsets you but he just doesn't want to acknowledge it or take it seriously."

They looked at each other for a second before slipping into soft, breathy laughter. It was weak and quiet but Kara wrote it down as a win. The idea that Barry would be so harsh and cruel truly was laughable. Maybe another Barry, another universe, but not this one.

After a second Y/n deflated again. Not as broken down but definitely exhausted. "What do I do if he won't talk to me? I can't just not know."

"Tell him that." When Y/n seemed doubtful, kara shook her head. "I'm serious. Say it even before you start the conversation. No warning, no chance to shoot you down or change the subject. Lay down the law. If you need this, you need this. It doesn't matter what he's feeling about the situation - you need to talk about this. This is a need for you; a deal breaker. If you break up you break up. He doesn't deserve you if he can't get over himself for an hour to talk to you and give you something you actively need."

Y/n melted in relief, eyes wet. "You're an amazing friend Kara."

The compliment, bursting with appreciation that could not be put into words, made Kara grin. "You deserve a good friend. Come on - we can take a few days before you have to go back."

So they did. A little less a month passed before Y/n went back. neither of them had meant for it to go on quite so long but Y/n's powers that were so often utilized by Barry were perfect for the threat Kara was facing and beating the bad guy was the last step. They had to go through so much before they could do that. It kept them. 

When he did go home, there was something different about him. He got to see more and experience more. He realized how much pressure he was putting on Barry and codependent he'd become. he seemed finally completely at peace with whatever happened - whether or not they broke up, he knew he'd make it through - but was also ready and willing to fight for it.

If only Barry would fight too.

In the end Kara had been right. Her very first guess had hit the nail on the head, and it had all come undone the second Y/n set a hard boundary. He needed this and Barry delivered. Their relationship was important enough to the speedster to put aside fear or pride and face it. They had a long talk about the whole situation and how out of control they both felt. How that scared Barry even more because he didn't want such a future. Because he wasn't allowed to be out of control like he was now or people died. Y/n clarified his feelings not being a reflection on Barry as a person and the kind of person or partner he was, and that seemed to help too. They decided at the end of it all that no matter what happened they loved each other and nothing could get in the way of that. That even if Iris and Barry did end up together, it wouldn't be the Barry that was now.

That Barry was Y/n's.

For the first time neither of them felt the need to check to see if Iris' surname had changed on the byline. It was Cisco instead who came crashing into the room, eyes wide with worry. He pulled up the article and pointed out the byline.

Iris West.

No Allen attached.

The article was the same, with a missing Barry, but the byline was different.

Barry and Y/n looked at each other, eyes opened for the first time. It was almost a slap in the face to realize that Iris and Barry ended up together in this world only if they thought they did. That the anxiety of the felt inevitable could destroy all of their relationships, and that the second they decided it didn't - it didn't.It was beautiful in a way. And suddenly they both felt that they could do so much more... 

And they did. Together.

-

Male Readers: @ravenpuff-oli @sortzz @fadedver

[intheholler]

Do you have any tips for being more comfortable using your natural accent in front of people? I was bullied for it as a kid and scrubbed my accent away through teenhood. As an adult, I feel like I still have to put on a neutral accent so people at work won't judge me. I told one of my old bosses that I was from Appalachia and he went on about how he'd seen do many documentaries on Appalachia and what good people we were, but also added that "Wow! I never would have known. You don't have an accent at all. You're so well-spoken!" and it felt bad. I think he had good intentions, but it made me feel like a zoo animal. I always see comments on other Appalachian folks' posts about their accents too, and there's always a handful of jerks who have to say something about their intelligence or make an incest or drug addict "joke".

It all hurts a lot and makes me self-conscious, but I don't want to be this way around my friends. Do you know how I can stop letting peoples' ignorance and classism get to me? Worrying about how I pronounce words or if I'm using region-specific slang all the time is so exhausting.

hi there <3 this is a topic near n dear to my heart because i spent so much of my life trying to avoid sounding appalachian, and the last few years of it desperate to sound so aggressively appalachian that yankees can't understand me, lmao.

that is all to say: this is gonna be long as usual.

first: class solidarity, family <3 this stuff really sucks.

what inspired me to push past the discomfort of using my natural accent after a lifetime of getting rid of it was actually along the lines of what you mentioned: people being shocked that i could be from appalachia, and be articulate at the same time. there are so many nasty, hurtful implications there.

i hate to say it, but there's no easy answer to this.

something in me just… snapped one day about ten years back. i started to look inward, and i discovered this overwhelming pride and passion and love for my home that i had denied myself my whole life, out of fear over how it made me look.

i started doing the self-work and digging deeper into that. it wasn't comfortable, but once i embraced appalachia, i wanted to defend her. the best way to do that for me was to be loud. my pride in where im from outweighed the rest.

maybe you should start there, too. look inward, break down your own subconscious biases about yourself and about our home. find out why you have been made to think this way.

work on loving the appalachian parts of yourself. GET. FUCKING. ANGRY. at those who poisoned your mind with this shit, and use that fury to work on dismantling the beliefs they imposed upon you.

because why shouldn't we talk like our mamas just because some asshole thinks its funny? why should we give up ties to our community and culture, just to be respected? why should every blessed conversation be emotionally and physically taxing just to make a classist more comfortable?

it isn't my shame to carry, and it isn't yours. it is their shame, and their self-work to do. it is not our responsibility to coddle their ignorance. that is on them.

now, when someone hears me talk, it causes a sort of dissonance that they then have to wrestle with. it shifts the discomfort and emotional labor away from me, and puts it on to them instead.

every time i speak proudly, they have to confront themselves and their biases, and how it harms someone that they respect--you.

and if they aren't the kind of person empathetic enough to do that, literally who gives a shit what someone like that thinks about you.

turn those 'jokes' they make about it right back on them:

why is drug addiction funny? why is incest and sexual assault of children funny? why are underfunded schools and a failure to give children across the nation a fair and equal education something to laugh about?

framing it in my mind that i was taking back control in conversations this way helped me speak more comfortably. it made me feel empowered.

i think of it like this: by speaking in my dialect and embodying positive and "unexpected" traits from the region (leftist politics, anti-racism, things like that), i reclaim my power. i use that power to slowly shift the opinions of appalachia with the people i interact with.

it was scary, and it's still scary. but by making a conscious decision every day to speak in our dialect and be courageous even when it's hard, we are reclaiming the parts of ourselves that they took from us. we are bettering the image of the region we love so dearly.

it is INCREDIBLY empowering now to settle into my accent. but it took a LOT of self-work, courage and self-respect to be able to do it.

it ain't easy. i do still struggle with it; i catch myself code switching all the time. i don't think you or me or any of us trying to reclaim our accents will ever fully escape the weight of the classism that dictated our manner of speaking for a huge chunk of our lives, unfortunately.

but if you do that difficult work, it is so, so liberating, family.

you can do it. talk to yourself when you're home alone. let the accent get comfortable again on your tongue. start there, then let that beautiful dialect out for the world to hear <3

[vilevenom]

Howdy, Anon! An idea for this prompt smacked me right in the face as soon as I read it. Aaaand I have a feeling it's, uh, not as fluffy as you may have been hoping. Still a JD & Bruce fic, buuuut less of an "Oh no! John Dory had a bad date! lol" and more of a "Oh no. John Dory had a bad date." Also, this is set pre-brozone breakup. Let's not mention the sheer amount of times I wrote "Bruce" instead of "Spruce" and had to go back and fix it I hope you enjoy!

John Dory crept into the pod, knowing full well he was much, much later than he had told his grandmother he would be. And after the night he'd had there was no way he wanted to deal with a confrontation with her. She had been upset enough with him when he had proposed the "Win a Date with BroZone" contest in the first place, especially without a sponsor to cover it. He didn't need to provide her with extra ammo over the whole thing by how late he'd gotten home.

He made sure the door shut as quietly as it could, then tip toed through the pod, doing his best to avoid toys and instruments scattered across the floor in the dark. He let out a near inaudible sigh of relief as he made it to the door of his bedroom, reaching for the knob, fully believing he had made it scot-free.

"About time you got home."

"Cupcakes!" John hissed, nearly jumping out of his skin at the voice suddenly to his right. He placed a hand over his rapidly beating heart, shooting a glare at Spruce who was stood in the darkened hallway, arms crossed over his chest, and a scowl on his face.

"Bitty B cried when you weren't home to tuck him in."

John rolled his eyes, shoving his bedroom door open. "It was one bedtime story. I'm sure he'll be fine," John grumbled, quickly ducking into his room and away from Spruce.

Spruce followed John Dory like a shadow, quickly shutting the bedroom door behind him in the hopes of keeping the rest of their brothers asleep. "Oh, no. You do not get to pretend like you weren't out until the middle of the night, making us worry. And you better believe that Grandma is going to have words with you in the morning. You've got to stop putting all of the band crap before your family!" Spruce growled, doing his best to keep his voice quiet, while also conveying to John Dory just how upset he was. Not only did he have to deal with a crying Branch, but Floyd had also been upset by John missing their bedtime routine, and Clay had just been angry.

"Come on, Spruce. Can't you lecture me in the morning? It's late," John grumbled, tugging his goggles off and tossing them aside, not bothering to turn the bedroom light on.

"No! You're going to listen to me, John Dory! This is getting ridiculous. First you start sequestering yourself in your room for hours on end to write, then you're forcing us to practice every minute we're not scheduled for a press conference or photo shoot, now you're out partying it up late into the night, making our brothers upset! It has to stop," Spruce snapped, flipping on the bedroom light as he spoke. He scowled when John quickly turned his back to him, his fur bristling as he stormed across the room. "Look at me when I'm talking to you," he snarled, grabbing John's shoulders to turn him around.

Spruce fully expected John to glare at him and give him some snotty remark about being manhandled. He was not expecting to find a bruise forming over his brother's cheek, and crusted blood covering a split in his lip. Spruce gaped while John looked at the floor, unshed tears brimming in his eyes.

"What happened?" Spruce asked, his tone distinctly softer as he directed John to sit on the edge of his bed.

John took in a deep breath, obviously trying to keep himself from sobbing, but it did nothing to stop the tears that slowly began to trail down over his cheeks. "The date went…badly."

"This looks like it went worse than 'badly', JD," Spruce murmured, sitting next to his brother and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Talk to me, bro. What happened?"

John sniffed loudly, quickly wiping this nose with the back of his hand. "You're going to say 'I told you so', and I really don't need that tonight, Spruce."

"I won't, I promise," Spruce said quickly, shaking his head. He had a feeling he knew exactly what John was referring to. After John had argued with Rosiepuff over the date contest, he'd gone to Spruce with the proposal, as he was the designated heart throb and had previous experience with fake dates with fans. Spruce had immediately refuted the idea, citing the debacle when 'Trolls Magazine' had held a similar contest, and the awkward ice cream date he'd gone on with one of their fans and a photographer. John was proposing they run the contest themselves, without someone to vet the entries, to boost popularity before their next tour. Spruce had argued that a date without a chaperone, even with John being seventeen, was a terrible idea. John thought he would be able to handle it. After all, how crazy could their fans be?

John took another deep breath, coughing quietly as he tried to choke back a sob. "You really promise?"

"I absolutely promise."

John blinked a couple of times, before finally letting out a low whine, burying his face in his hands. Spruce rubbed his back in comforting circles as his older brothers shoulders shook. After a moment he finally sat back up, gasping quietly for air. "I…It started off fine," he said quietly, gaze far away, "She looked older than I thought she'd be. Her contest entry said nineteen, but I think she was older. She brought me flowers, which I thought was weird, but sweet. We went for dinner. I took photos with a few fans who asked while we were out. She got mad. She said I should only be paying attention to her and telling the others to go away, because she won my time. I told her I couldn't just ignore our fans, that'd be rude. She was upset, but let it go. She seemed to get more agitated as the night went on, though. Finally, when I was walking her home- or, at least, what I think was her home…She pinned me up against the tree and kissed me. She was rough, and it hurt. She bit me when I tried to pull away. When I did finally manage to get her off of me, she hit me. I ran for it, and she chased me. I only got home so late because I wanted to make sure she wasn't following me anymore."

"John," Spruce breathed, shaking his head in disbelief. To think that one of their fans would do such a thing was disturbing, to say the least.

"I should've listened to you and Grandma," John whimpered, turning a tearful gaze onto Spruce, "I never should've put together this stupid contest. I never should've gone on that date without someone with me."

"Hey," Spruce murmured, "What happened wasn't your fault."

"Wasn't it?" John scoffed, wiping at his eyes angrily, "I didn't listen to you or Grandma, I went out by myself to meet someone I didn't know, and then had to run around the tree for hours so she wouldn't follow me home! I think that qualifies it as being my fault." He let out a weak sob, covering his face again. "I was scared." The admittance was quiet, and Spruce likely only heard it because he was so close to John.

Spruce tugged John Dory bodily into a hug, his older brother practically falling into his lap. "It wasn't your fault. I should've gone with you, regardless of how I felt. I could've helped to keep you safe." John clutched at the back of Spruce's sleep shirt, the damn of his tears breaking as he wept quietly into Spruce's shoulder. "You're going to be okay, JD. It's going to be okay."