#nothing changed as much only their personalities

[cressidagrey]

Brighten Up the Sky

This started as a prompt from the lovely @satiresunflower, (though it is pretty much unrecognisable from the prompt she actually gave. She did give me permission to go wild though, so this is what you get lol) 

This starts in Chapter 14 of ACOWAR, so some of the sentences are taken verbatim from the original text. I did change it into 3rd person, because me trying to write in 1st person never ends well. I also think there is a longer story in this particular idea, but quite frankly, I don’t have it in me to write it right now. 

Summary:

A Mating Bond between her younger sister and the Night Court’s shadowsinger was the last thing Feyre had expected to spring up…but then, maybe it did make sense. 

Warning:

Public Displays of affection, kinda Nesta bashing, but like...she has her reasons?, Cassian being annoying

(Lovely dividers thanks to @cafekitsune)

“Where are my sisters?” Feyre asked, the thought clanging through her head as jarring as a pealing bell. 

Her sisters

Rhys paused for just a moment, his hand slipping from her hair as his smile faded. “Elain and Nesta are at the House of Wind.” He straightened, swallowing. “I can—take you to them.” Every word seemed to be an effort.

But he would, Feyre realized. He’d shove down his need for her and take her to them, if that was what she wanted. Her choice. It had always been her choice with him.

Feyre shook my head. She wouldn’t see them—not yet. Not until she was steady enough to face them.

“They’re well, though?”

His hesitation told her enough. 

“They’re safe,” Rhys answered quietly. 

"That’s good," Feyre murmured as she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm the swirling, churning emotions inside her chest.

Her sisters...her sisters were safe. That was something. That was enough. For now. 

Only then she realised something else.

“You said Nesta and Elain are at the House of Wind,” Feyre pointed out, her hands clenching, her heart beating faster. “Where’s Alana?” she demanded, singling out her younger sister…singling out her half sister. 

The result of their father’s dalliance with a maid during her mother’s pregnancy with Feyre. Alana was just 6 months younger than her. Alana’s mother had died during childbirth…so their father had been saddled with another squealing infant that his wife was ill-pleased with. 

Nesta liked to say that that affair had eventually killed their mother. Feyre thought it to be ridiculous. It had been a fever and Alana had nothing to do with it, because she had been a literal child…and Alana had lost her voice to the very same fever. Feyre could still remember her singing like a pealing bell when she had been a child…and then…then she hadn’t been able to anymore. Even talking was near impossible for Alana, her throat unable to produce any sounds. 

Even as Alsna had been thrown into the cauldron…Her mouth had been open in a silent scream, but no sound had come out of her mouth. 

A shudder ran through her at that memory.

Alana. Her sweet, quiet younger sister. The sister that always smiled too sweetly and saw too much with those sharp eyes of hers. 

"Where is Alana?" She repeated. The silence in the room hung thick in the air as Rhys continued to hesitate.

A prickle of unease started to make its way up her spine. 

“Rhys, where is Alana?!” she demanded, her voice rising. 

“She’s safe, I swear,” Rhys hurried to promise her. “She’s not staying with Nesta and Elain but she’s safe. She should be here soon. I think…everything else…you should ask her about that.”

His words did little to soothe her worries, the unease that now clawed up her spine stronger.

“You’re not telling me something,” she pointed out, her brow furrowing. “Rhys, what are you not telling me?” 

She thought back to the last time she had seen her sister…thought back to her being poured out onto the wet stone floor from the cauldron…not a noise had come from her…nothing. She had…She had been poured out of the cauldron and had just kneeled on that stone floor as they had forced Nesta into the cauldron after her. 

She hadn’t…she had been…absent. Like the cauldron had taken too much from her. 

And then, in the moment as Mor had pushed Lucien away from Nesta and Elain, Feyre had seen Alana lunge. 

Not for the King of Hybern. Not even for Mor, who would have been closer to her…But for Cassian and Azriel for some reason. She wasn’t sure what had been Alana’s reasoning. Wasn’t sure what…Rhys had grasped all three of them and winnowed them away. 

Her heart was now hammering.

“What did you do with her?” Feyre demanded, her voice growing panicked. “What did you do with Alana? Why isn’t she staying with Nesta and Elain?” Feyre asked, her voice forcedly calm. “Rhys, what is going on?”

There was another moment of hesitation, another moment of silence, before Rhys finally replied. "She just…opted to stay elsewhere."

Those words did little to reassure her.

"Where?" Feyre pressed, her eyes narrowed. 

Rhys sighed. “How about you get into that bath that should be ready by now?” he suggested. “I’ll…tell you some of what happened. But I do think that some of the things should come from Alana and not from me,” he pointed out drily. 

The last thing she wanted to do right now was take a bath, the last thing she wanted to do was to be pacified with pretty words and nice things. That was the last thing she wanted.

But...he was right. She needed to be clean. 

Feyre growled at her mate, but stomped into the bathing chamber, stripping out of her clothing. Her fingers were near-black with dirt and caked blood. 

Rhys snapped his fingers, and her skin was nearly instantly pristine again. “Tell me what happened,” Feyre said flatly, as she sunk into the blood-hot water. “Why isn’t Alana staying at the House of Wind?”

Rhys was silent for a moment as he looked at her, his mouth in a grim line.

Then he let out a deep sigh, sitting down on the edge of the bathing tub. “A lot of things happened,” Rhys said drily. “But the biggest reason why Alana isn’t at the House of Wind is mostly that…I can’t guarantee Nesta’s safety, if she keeps spewing some of her venom in Alana’s direction.”

Feyre’s brow shot up at that, her heart skipping a beat. “What?” she demanded. “Rhys, what are you talking about?” That didn’t sound—didn’t sound like...

To say that Nesta and Alana didn’t get along was an understatement. Nesta gave Alana the fault for seemingly everything and Alana…well, she played deaf. And even more mute than she normally was. Even when Feyre‘s sister hadn’t been able to talk, she had been more than able to communicate if she wanted to, either with her expressive face, or her hands. And still, Alana had pretended like it wasn’t happening. Elain was no better to her…Elain liked to ignore Alana’s very existence.

But Alana wouldn’t have done anything…Alana wouldn’t have…

“Alana doesn’t lose her temper,” Feyre said carefully as she looked at Rhys. “She doesn’t.”

“She didn’t,” Rhys said drily. “My spymaster did.” 

A puzzled frown crossed over her face at that. “Azriel?” Feyre asked, her eyebrows furrowing. “What did he do?”

Azriel had lost his temper with Nesta? 

“If Cassian hadn’t been there, I think Azriel would have torn out Nesta’s throat with his bare hands,” Rhys said with a grimace. “It was…bad.”

Feyre’s jaw dropped.

Azriel, tearing out Nesta’s throat? With his hands? That…that didn’t sound like him. Not at all.

“I...” Feyre had no idea what to say. Why would Azriel have done that?  Feyre couldn’t…Of course, she knew that Azriel was capable of great violence, but he had never…she had never seen him lose his temper with a member of his family. Had never even through that that was a possibility. Whatever Nesta had said, must have been…

If he had gotten this angry on Alana’s behalf…What exactly had been said?

"What did Nesta do? What did she say?" Feyre asked, her voice hard. "What did she say to warrant that reaction from Azriel?" 

Rhys grimaced, shaking  his head. “You don’t want to know,” he said, his voice low. “Trust me, you do not want to know what she said. It's...complicated."

"Complicated, how?" Feyre demanded as she towelled herself off, walking back into the bedroom and pulled on comfortable clothing, her worry mounting. "What could possibly be so bad that you don't want to tell me?" 

If it was bad enough that Rhys didn't want to tell her what exactly happened...what exactly had been said.

"Well, that…” Rhys trailed off.

"Tell me," Feyre demanded again. "What exactly happened after…Hybern?"

Her mate gave in, holding out his hand and she joined him sitting on the edge of their bed.

Their bed.

She was home. Finally.

Rhys sighed.

“After Hybern…Mor dropped Nesta and Elain off at the House of Wind and then came back to the Townhouse. I had…I had Azriel and Cassian, and Alana too” Rhys said quietly and Feyre swallowed. Azriel and Cassian were healed. Rhys had told her that…but somehow she hadn’t been able to believe it…until she had seen it. 

“Amren tried to stop the blood flow from the literal hole in Azriel’s chest. I didn’t notice at first…Alana was kneeling at Azriel’s side…covered in his blood…holding his head on her lap…” Rhys’s violet eyes seemed to be far, far away, as he nearly shuddered, just thinking about it. “Azriel was…in and out of consciousness…but he was just…he was just holding onto her.”

Feyre’s heart was lodged in her throat. Azriel, nearly dead, was just…holding Alana. Her head was spinning as her mind worked hard to comprehend this. 

“The mating bond snapped for them,” Rhys finally said quietly. 

Feyre’s eyes widened. Her mouth went suddenly dry.

The…the mating bond? Alana and Azriel? Mates?

“The mating bond,” she echoed faintly. “The…the mating bond.” 

Feyre was quite sure that her jaw dropped. And that she stared at Rhys like he had just grown a second head.

“Azriel and Alana?” Feyre asked, unable to believe that. Azriel and Alana?! The brooding shadowsinger and spymaster of the Night Court and her youngest sister?

Azriel, who seemed to have a thing for Mor and had never looked at another female as far as Feyre was aware?

Rhys winced at her look.

"Yes, I know," he said quietly, wincing. "That was…my reaction too. I didn’t see it coming. I don’t think that anyone saw this coming...especially not Azriel." 

Feyre’s mind was racing.

Azriel and Alana. Mates.

She couldn’t…she never would have imagined it. Never seen it coming. Not in a thousand years. 

“Have they…” she wasn’t even sure what she was asking.

“Three days late,” Rhys said with a sigh. “They were not willing to wait.” 

“Three day?!” Feyre demanded. As far as she knew, Alana had never even entertained the thought of a suitor. Not that there had been any men that had looked over the fact that she was a bastard…and mute. They had never bothered to look further and Alana had never fussed about it either. 

"Three days," Rhys repeated. "The moment Azriel was well enough to be mobile again, they mated."  Rhys shuddered, his face scrunching up in distaste. “They are insufferable. The both of them.” 

"What do you mean, insufferable?" Feyre asked. A million thoughts were running through her head. Alana and Azriel…mates. They mated. 

"They could not stay away from each other," Rhys said, shuddering again. "They were...touchy. All the time. And so very...cutesy and sweet with each other. Gods, they are nauseating."

Feyre’s eyebrows rose at that. Alana and Azriel. Touchy? Cutesy and sweet? She could barely even imagine it. Alana...and Azriel. Being affectionate. 

"She’s sitting on his lap constantly," her mate groaned, rubbing his eyes hard. "And he is just…constantly touching her. I don’t even think that they have gone a whole five minutes without touching each other."

"And the looks," her mate continued drily. "Gods, they are exchanging these  looks. You would have thought that they are the soppiest, lovesick couple in existence. I did not ever need to see Azriel making heart-eyes at Alana. That was…traumatising."

Feyre pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle a snort. Azriel, making heart-eyes? That was a sight that she could not quite imagine. She…she hadn’t even thought that Azriel was even…capable of making heart-eyes. 

"Cassian and Mor kept poking fun at them. At every opportunity, which they definitely got often. Alana just…ignored them. But Azriel…" Rhys’ lips curled into a smirk. "He was not as amused as Alana by their teasing. He kept threatening violence every five minutes."

Feyre’s eyes widened at that, a laugh escaping her.

Azriel threatening violence for every five minutes that someone teased him about his new mate? She could not picture that either. 

"Cassian started making kissy faces at Alana just to see if Azriel would lose his temper," her mate said, a broad smile on his face. "And let me tell you, he nearly clawed out Cas’ eyeballs for it."

"So she's staying here?" Feyre asked carefully.

Rhys shook his head, his expression growing more serious. "She's at Azriel's house," he explained with a sigh. "It's...the cauldron left her with some...abilities. She’s a daemati…of sorts, at least,” Rhys said with a grimace. “We are still trying to figure out…how exactly it works. You and me…we need to concentrate if we want to read somebody’s thoughts. Alana…she said it was like she was standing in the middle of a market square and everybody is shouting at her,” Rhys said quietly. “We haven’t yet found anybody with shields solid enough to keep her out.”

Feyre swallowed at that. Alana, a daemati…of sorts. Having no control over whose thoughts she heard. No control over how loud everything was. 

“It’s like every mental wall, doesn’t even exist for her," Rhys said with a sigh. "Being around Amren gives her a headache too apparently. Azriel and Cassian are the most relaxing to be around according to her. There minds seem to be...even, analytical."

It sounded like a living hell. No control, no shields. Nothing.

“Is she…” Feyre’s voice was quiet. “Is she doing alright? Considering everything that happened.” 

“She’s fine,” Rhys promised her. “Alana is probably doing the best of them all,” Rhys said, something like amusement bleeding into his voice. “She can tell you all about it."

There was a knock at the door at that moment.

Feyre tensed as her eyes flew to the door.

“That’s her,” Rhys said quietly, placing a soothing hand on her leg. “Are you ready?” 

Feyre took a deep, steadying breath, pushing down her worry and her nerves.

“I’m ready,” she said. 

“Feyre!”

Her sister's voice. Her sister's voice.

Feyre’s heart skipped a beat as her body went rigid.

She couldn’t…she couldn’t believe it. After so long…after believing…believing for so long that she would never hear Alana’s voice…

Feyre remembered with a shudder the sight of small, slight Alana in her translucent nightgown…being poured out of the cauldron onto the stone...She looked nothing like she did now.

She looked well.

That was the first thing Feyre realised. Colour on her cheeks, dark, pin straight hair pinned away from her face and these devasting doe eyes…

Feyre’s eyes roamed over her sister, drinking in the sight of her. Alive. Well. Whole.

She could barely believe it, her mind struggling to catch up. 

"You can talk," Feyre whispered as Alana hugged her.  

She grimaced.

Kinda. This is easier though, she answered, her mental voice slipping into Feyre's mind without her even noticing. My throat hurts if I talk too much.

It was strange, having a voice in her mind that was not her own. Different from when her mate spoke to her down the bond. It was more…pronounced. Clearer, somehow. 

"Are…” Feyre’s voice broke again, her eyes roaming over Alana again. “Are you really alright, Al?” 

She drunk in her sister's face, the pale skin, the freckles that covered her face...she had been pretty as a human but as a fae...as a High fae she was gorgeous.

Alana’s eyes, her sister’s eyes, were still the same. Still that same dark, endless brown that had always seemed to hold so many secrets. She had never met anyone who could hold as many secrets as Alana had.

She looked so healthy, so well and Feyre felt a lump form in her throat. 

She had to fight the sudden urge to cry, as she pulled her sister into another hug. Her sister’s slender arms wrapped around her, pulling her in tight. Like she was never going to let her go again. 

I am alright, Alana promised fiercely. I am better than alright. I am...I am so happy, Fey.

The thought in her mind brought another wave of tears to Feyre’s eyes. She held on to her sister tighter, burying her face against her neck as a sob escaped her and she inhaled her sister’s familiar, comforting scent. Pomegranate and Vanilla, with an underlay of Azriel. 

He treats you well? she asked, cradling her sisters face in her hands. She didn't think that Azriel would...mistreat her but...

Alana’s eyes darkened as she thought of Azriel and her expression softened as a faint smile crossed her face. 

Feyre swallowed again. This was different. This was…her sister had never smiled like that. So open. So happy. So filled with…love. 

And then, very carefully, Feyre felt how Alana pulled at her mind in some sense and then dropped a memory.

For just a moment, it felt like she was in her little sister's body. And she stared at Azriel who looked at her, at Alana with utter and complete adoration, scarred hands cupping her cheeks so gently.

Feyre’s breath caught in her throat at that.

She could feel, could understand the feeling of Azriel’s warm, scarred hand against her skin. The way how the pads of his fingers ran over her jawline, the way how his thumb traced over her lower lip. The way how those hazel eyes of his were filled with nothing but love. 

A shudder ran down Feyre’s spine. That look, the way how Azriel had looked at her sister…it was like the expression in Rhys’ eyes when he looked at her. 

Her eyes flickered to Rhys, where he was patiently waiting in a corner.

He was looking at her with that same look in his eyes. The same look that Feyre knew was mirrored in her own eyes. It was the same, that look. Pure, utter devotion. 

It was the look of a man completely and utterly in love. 

Feyre swallowed as she turned back to Alana, her mind whirling. This was…Alana, her sister…her quiet, shy, closed-off little sister. And Azriel, the Shadowsinger and Spymaster of the Night Court. The one that no one saw as anything but sharp and deadly and a ruthless killer. 

He didn’t hurt you, did he? Feyre asked weakly. She didn’t think he would but…

Alana’s expression softened. Her hand gently came to rest on Feyre’s arm and she shook her head, a small smile on her face.

He was gentle as possible, Fey, Alana promised quietly. Gentler than I would have expected. He made sure to go slow, to be careful. He was…he was everything I could have wished for. He has never hurt me more than I wanted. 

Feyre let out a long, shaky breath she didn’t know that she was holding.

She…she had been worried. Worried for her sweet little sister, being together with a man like Azriel. Who was dangerous and deadly and…and lethal. 

What do you mean with no more than you wanted? she demanded suddenly. Alana just grinned at her, her laugh like a pealing bell.

A shudder ran down Feyre’s spine again. Alana’s…her sister’s voice, the sound of her laugh. It was the most wonderful sound that she had ever heard. She could’ve started bawling like a child, but the thought that Alana dropped into her mind just completely derailed her.

He knows what I like, and he’s happy to oblige. 

Feyre’s eyes widened and she choked on nothing.

She…oh Gods. Her face heat in a blush as Alana just continued smiling at her innocently. 

This was her sister. Her quiet, shy, closed-off sister. That was how she remembered her. And now…and now…she was standing in front of Feyre, smiling at her like a cat who had just devoured an entire bowl of cream, telling her that her stoic, broody, deadly Spymaster of a mate was apparently…into things… 

Her sister smirked at her. Alana! Her shy, little sister, who had never even so much as looked at a male with interest, stood in front of Feyre, a smirk on her face as she told Feyre that her mate knew what she liked. 

I was surprised too, you know, Alana’s voice echoed in Feyre’s mind. But well…I like it, and he’s happy to oblige. He’s very good at it… 

But the look on Alana’s face, the utter contentment in her eyes, and the feeling of…of lust from her sister, made it even more mortifying. 

Alana was happy. Her sister was happy and well, and she just radiated happiness. Feyre’s heart soared, seeing her sister like that after so long.  And even the horrifying bits, Feyre could push past.

Seeing her sister happy like this…that was worth a bit of mortification and discomfort. 

So she swallowed her mortification, and just pulled a face at her smirking sister.

Enough with the gory details, for the love of the Mother. she chided her in her head. Alana just let out another pearly bell kind of laugh.

You should come downstairs. Nuala and Cerridwen have given Lucien some clothing and showed him to a bathing chamber. Lunch should be served soon, if you are hungry, Alana said into her mind.

I am famished, Feyre confessed in her mind. “Lead the way,” she said aloud and Alana just rolled her eyes, taking her by the arm and pulling her downstairs. 

And then something else came to her mind. What did Nesta say to you?

Alana sighed. Nothing that matters, her sister said easily as they reached the dining room. Azriel and Cassian were waiting for them.

And then Feyre saw how her sister turned from happy to radiant as soon as she saw Azriel. 

Feyre watched with ill disguised horror, as the spymaster’s shadows came over to Alana, seemingly swarming around her. Whatever bits of naked skin they could find…in this case her hands and face, because she wore a long sleeves high necked gown, they caressed. Nearly sweetly. 

Alana absentmindedly drew her fingers through one tendril as she floated over to Azriel, sitting down onto his lap like that was an utterly normal thing to do. Feyre could just stare as Azriel pressed a kiss against her sister‘s cheek, one scarred hand possessively spanning her waist.

Like this was normal. Like this was something they had done dozens of times…like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like this was their usual routine…and Alana smiled at him, broadly, pressing a kiss against his cheek in greeting. 

It was...it was surreal, watching Alana like this. So much more open, less reserved than Feyre had ever seen her. And the way how Azriel looked at her...Feyre had never seen him express such open and utter adoration before. 

Cassian made a retching sound, catching Feyre’s attention. Azriel’s eyes darkened as he threw an icy look in Cassian’s direction. Alana just snuggled deeper into Azriel’s chest. 

Azriel let out the smallest of chuckles at Alana’s behaviour in his lap, one of his hands coming up to gently play with a strand of her dark hair as he pressed another kiss to her forehead. 

The quiet, brooding Spymaster of the Night Court, who could be downright terrifying when he wanted, completely and utterly smitten by her little sister. 

Feyre could just stare. 

She had not for one moment thought that they would…would be a good match. But here they were. 

Alana...Feyre had never seen her sister like this before. So open, so happy. So...unreserved. She was like a cat, settled in the lap of her male, letting him pet her like she was...like he owned her. And it seemed like Azriel would gladly claim ownership too. The possessive, proprietary look on his face told Feyre all she needed to know. 

“Get a room, for the love of the Mother,” Cassian drawled with a disgusted look on his face as Azriel buried his nose in her sister’s hair and Feyre shot him another dirty look. Alana just stuck her tongue out at him. 

Azriel just bared his teeth at Cassian, a silent warning to watch his tongue in the direction of the woman in his lap, who was busy playing with the buttons on his fighting leathers. 

“What did Nesta say?“ Feyre repeated as she sat down herself. 

The reactions were immediate. 

Azriel growled.

Feyre couldn’t help but flinch slightly. That growl...she hadn’t heard him make that sound before. It sounded utterly terrifying. Alana didn’t even flinch. She just touched Azriel’s chest in a soothing gesture and Azriel immediately quieted down, holding her even tighter. 

It doesn’t matter what Nesta had to say, Alana’s voice echoed in her mind.

“It absolutely does,” Feyre muttered, feeling some anger rising in her. Her sister deserved better than what Nesta had to say. 

I don’t care what she says, Alana replied in her mind. She can believe whatever she likes. She is entitled to her opinion. 

“She can be quiet about her opinion,” Azriel hissed. Only then Feyre realised that her sister must have been projecting her mental voice so that everybody could hear it.

"Azriel." Alana's voice was soft. "It's alright. We both know the truth. It doesn’t matter what she believes"

Azriel looked down at her and a slight frown appeared on his face. He gently cupped her sister's chin, his hazel eyes staring into her dark ones. Feyre could practically hear the silent conversation between them. 

Cassian sighed. "Nesta found out about the mating bond between Azriel and Alana and she didn't take it well," he told Feyre drily.

Of course, she didn’t. Of course, she didn’t. Feyre ground her teeth together. 

"So what exactly was said?" she asked sharply.

Cassian and Rhys shared a look as Azriel let out another warning growl. Feyre ignored him. 

I want to know, Feyre snapped towards Alana. Her sister stiffened. 

Feyre, Alana’s voice echoed in her mind, a hint of warning in her tone. Feyre pushed down a wave of irritation. 

Tell me, Feyre demanded. She was done with secrets. Done with not knowing things. 

It’s nothing, Alana tried to brush her off and Feyre’s irritation flared up in her stomach. 

It is not ‘nothing’. Feyre snapped at her. Her sister’s face was a stoic mask as Azriel let his hand span across her stomach. 

Nesta made a comment about how she was surprised that Azriel hadn't ripped me apart during our...mating. But maybe she shouldn't be surprised because I was a whore anyway, Alana finally answered. How a brute like him was all I amounted to, given that I was a bastard...and then there was some more stuff in that rant about how unfair it was that I had landed on my feet but Elain is...well...Elain isn't doing so good, Alana answered flatly.

Feyre felt her blood boil in her veins. Of course, Nesta would say something like that, the bitter, twisted...- Feyre bit down on the string of curses burning on her tongue. 

Nesta isn't doing well, Feyre. You can't take what she is saying right now to heart, Alana warned her softly. You haven't been in her mind...it's...it's bad.

Feyre felt some of her anger cool down ever so slightly. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t pissed off at Nesta for what she had said. Even if...even if Nesta wasn’t doing well. 

That doesn’t change anything about what she said, Feyre said through gritted teeth. 

I am not defending her, Alana said firmly. I love Nesta. Doesn’t mean that I like hearing her talk about Azriel like that. But Feyre... her voice grew softer. I have seen her mind. Her thoughts. She isn’t in a good place right now.

Feyre grimaced, feeling her anger slowly disappear. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want to. But...maybe Alana was right. Nesta was her sister, and Feyre loved her. Even after everything that had happened between them. 

Still...what she said... Feyre said weakly and Alana’s lips quirked. 

I know, she said gently. I was angry too. I nearly tore her head off. But Azriel...he was furious. I’ve never seen him like that before. 

Feyre didn’t need to be told how furious Azriel had been. The look in his eyes, the clenched jaw and the growl that Feyre had heard...she didn’t need anyone to tell her how the usually stoic male had been absolutely furious about what Nesta had said. 

"I'll talk to her," Feyre said aloud.

She ignored the dubious look that Cassian and Rhys were giving her. Her sister just smiled at her softly and nodded. 

Talk to her gently, she urged in Feyre’s mind. Please. And don’t...don’t try to defend me. It will only start a fight. 

Feyre winced. Even though, she didn’t like the thought of it and not defending her sister went completely against her nature, she knew that Alana was right. And her sister could read her thoughts with ease anyways. 

I’ll bite my tongue, Feyre promised her. Alana smiled at her again, that smile that lit up her entire face. Feyre felt her heart clench at the beautiful sight. 

“Thank you,” Alana said happily, her voice like the most wonderful sound. Feyre had a feeling that that was the thanks not only for agreeing not to defend her but for just...not making a scene. Feyre felt a small, answering smile tug at the corners of her own lips.

Instead, she watched her sister pick up a piece of bread from the plate in front of Azriel and hold it up for him to eat without another word. A silent gesture of acceptance.

Azriel’s lips twitched as he looked at his mate, sitting on his lap like she belonged there. But he obediently opened his mouth, a subtle sign of complete surrender to Alana. 

Cassian made another retching sound. Alana ignored him.

Azriel was the one who kissed Alana.

Feyre could have gone quite a long time without that sight. Especially because it wasn't a simple peck on the cheek or a quick kiss to her lips. 

Feyre could have gone forever without seeing her sister like this, settled in the lap of her mate, their bodies pressed together tightly as Azriel kissed her, devoured her, his hands possessively splayed out on her slender waist. 

"Now you are just fucking with me," Cassian said with a sigh.

Alana just broke out in a fit of giggles as Azriel threw a glare in Cassian’s direction. 

“Maybe I am,” Azriel mused, as Alana settled back into his lap. Azriel’s one scarred hand was back to playing with a strand of Alana’s hair. “Jealous?” he asked lightly and  Cassian actually growled at him.  Azriel snorted, his hand possessively covering Alana’s stomach, who was smiling like the happiest person in the world. 

“Shut up,” Cassian huffed. “I am not jealous. I just don’t want to know what you two get up to at night.” 

"Only at night?" Azriel asked drily. "Brother, you have much to learn."

Feyre groaned internally at the hint in Azriel’s voice as Cassian looked a little ashen, while Rhys burst out laughing and Alana let out another one of her pearly-bell like laughs. 

“Stop tormenting him,” Rhys said with a chuckle as Cassian tried to recover. “He’ll have nightmares for weeks if you continue like this.” 

“That sounds like a you problem,” Azriel replied, completely unrepentant, “not ours.” Alana was still giggling, a sound like tinkling bells in Feyre’s ears. 

“Of course you say that, you bastard,” Cassian said with a sigh as Azriel’s hand on Alana’s stomach started to slowly wander upwards. 

Feyre could see how Alana’s cheeks flushed slightly in response to the possessive touch. How her breathing quickened ever so slightly. Azriel’s lips twitched as he noticed it too. 

"We'll let you deal with Lucien," Alana said suddenly, gaining her feet quickly. "We'll see you at dinner. Az?"

“Coming, sweetheart,” Azriel said and Cassian made another retching sound as Feyre could feel the waves of possessiveness coming off Azriel in waves. Her sister was his. 

In a matter of heartbeats, they were gone. Feyre was left with Cassian and Rhys who were both looking at her intently. 

"Yes, they are always like that, if you wondered,” Cassian said with a roll of his eyes. "I think they are still in the Mating Frenzy."

“Most likely,” Rhys agreed with a chuckle. “But they also don’t seem to care who sees it. Mor is still horrified from walking in on them a few weeks ago.” 

“So would I be in her shoes,” Feyre said honestly and Cassian snickered. 

“They are insufferable, aren’t they?” He said with a grin. Rhys just chuckled. “So utterly happy.”

“Yes,” Feyre agreed, the image of the two of them, completely oblivious to the world around them still in her mind. “Unbelievably so.” 

“They’re also completely and utterly devoted to each other,” Rhys mused. “It is…kind of sweet.” Feyre nodded thoughtfully. 

It was sweet. The way Azriel looked at her sister, how he was so utterly possessive about her. And Alana…there wasn’t a hint of hesitation about her when it came to Azriel. 

"As long as she's happy," Feyre said quietly. As long as Alana was happy.

[genderqueerdykes]

Is it true that T gel is not as effective as shots are and that you cannot truly transition if you get the gel? Asking as a transmasc whos deathly afraid of needles

hello there!

fortunately, nope, that's not true! that's misinformation that gets spread around like crazy. every single person on this earth will respond differently to medications- just because one person did not receive the benefits they wanted from topical hormone gels (estrogen or testosterone) does not mean everyone else will have the same reaction!

there are folks who will get nothing out of it at all due to certain health conditions, genetics, or other factors, but that does not make the medication wholesale ineffective. there are also people who do not respond well to or process injectable testosterone- every person reacts to medications differently. it's best to take it on a case-by-case basis, as some won't get anything, but some will see the full spectrum of effects. it just depends on your body chemistry and how you personally react to medications

there are many trans people who transition with T gel only! you can absolutely fully medically transition with T gel. you are able to adjust your dose as needed, so you can tailor it to your needs just like injectable T. i took topical T for a few years and it still gave me all the benefits of injectable! including stopping my periods

i think some people struggle with T gel because they do not follow the instructions properly. i've actually met a few transmascs who shower their T gel off RIGHT after they've put it on, thinking the medication absorbs immediately. it is recommended to not shower or swim for several hours (usually around the 4 - 5 hour mark) to make sure all of the medication absorbs. if you do this and are not showing results from your gel, this is why. please don't immediately shower your T gel off! a lot of people also apply their gel to the wrong areas of the body: if you start topical T, your specific formulation will come with a guide showing you where to apply it. applying it in other areas may not work as well

it's a completely viable option, especially for people with shaky hands, needle trauma, or are squeamish. i hope that helps! topical T is not "weaker" than injectable- your skin is actually one of the areas of your body that has the some of the highest bioavailability when it comes to medications, meaning that your skin is excellent at absorbing topical medications and getting as much as possible out of them. as long as you do not have a condition that makes it difficult for your skin to absorb medications, its should affect you just as much as injectable would.

this is not a guarantee, as everyone is affected by medications differently. you may not have a condition that prevents you from absorbing medication through the skin and still struggle. everyone reacts differently- genetics, body chemistry, there are a lot of factors that can change how a person will react. it will depend greatly on who you are as a person.

usually there's not really a way to tell if it will work for someone until they try, so your mileage will vary, but the topical T is not on the whole weaker, or ineffective. it's important to talk about how it doesn't affect some people, but it's also important to talk about how it works great for many. like any medication, experiences with it will vary greatly from person to person and that's not a reflection that the medication is bad or ineffective, that's just normal for medication.

hope that helps!

[lilacgaby]

title: i've changed, won't you see?

pairing: prohero!katsuki x reader

summary: katsuki ruined your life when you were small, giving you a life altering injury, though getting nothing more than a pat on the back. throughout his successes he can't get you out of his mind, so he sets out to make amends with you.

tags: silent voice inspired!! childhood bully katsuki :(, disabled reader, mentions of violence, angst to fluff, su1cide attempt, comfort, implied nsfw, no proofread

(a/n: i wanted to give my hand at really long works while doing drabbles in between but i have so many drafts now jajsjsj)

wc: ~4k

your eyes were always blurry around him it seemed. your hands shaking as your voice cracked, just begging him. "please leave me alone!" with all the might a five year old could muster.

they scoffed at you, they always did. "crybaby. blame your parents for not giving you a quirk. you should've moved when i told you to anyways, it's my park dont you know?" katsuki mocked, moving closer to you, noticing the card behind your back.

"stop being so mean! quirkless people don't do anything wrong!"

"quirkless don't do anything."

your chest was heaving with pain, your little heart couldn't take it. "you-- you'll never be a hero, you're too mean!"

in an act of rage, he set off an explosion. it was only meant to intimidate you but..

once the smoke settled your screams of terror filled the playground.

blood dripped on the floor, pooling in your hand as your grasped your ear. a ringing was all you could hear, it was driving you crazy.

were you crying? you couldn't tell, you couldn't hear. your eyes were shut as you were filled with panic, the smell of iron flooding your senses.

but katsuki remembered so much more.

the smell of the burned cartilage of your ear, the sight of it, or rather the lack of. the blood that wouldn't stop coming, why wasn't it stopping?

his group that usually rallied behind him was now gone, leaving him and a wailing you alone. he tried to talk to you, but you weren't responding.

he grew the courage to touch you, tapping on your shoulder slowly, but that didn't comfort you. in fact he thought it made it worse, making you bow your head in a defensive position.

he stared at you, unable to move, he was supposed to be a hero like allmight, were you right?

finally, a teacher came running to get you, an ambulance already on the way. they didn't look at katsuki, only at the pitiful state you were in.

you didn't respond to them either.

katsuki felt sick as he stood where you and the teacher had left them. he felt sick as he looked down to the remains of what he'd done to you.

he couldn't process it yet, but he felt a sickening despair and guilt be placed upon his shoulders.

one that wouldn't disappear.

he wasn't blamed for anything, only getting a quirk consolation. they thought he lost control? his parents eyed him as he tried to explain what had truely happened, he didn't know why he was trying, did he want to get punished?

but even after, nothing was done. with a lecture and a couple promises he was sent back to class with nothing done to him.

your life was changed forever though, it was apparent in the way that you seemed even more quiet and closed off. you sat in the back, never spoke to anyone, and got teary eyed when he even stood close to you.

your hair covered your ears constantly, a hearing aid peeking through the strands occasionally. the teacher never forced you to participate, none of them ever made an effort.

the teacher had explained to the class how you were completely deaf in one ear, and extremely hard of hearing in the other. how you'd use sign language from now on, and that the class would learn some in support. they never did though, the conversation going ignored as soon as it was uttered.

you were pulled out of class often, the teacher having to tap you on the shoulder to get your attention. your eyes dejected and your presence small as the person who came to get you made gestures with their hands to you.

you'd been cruelly placed in matching classes 'til your last years of junior high. you'd stayed the same way for forever, it was like a weight placed over his chest.

yet he felt he deserved it. he knew he was messed up. he watched you, a lot. he saw you in the back corners, usually forgotten and ignored. when you were acknowledged you were mocked, people making random hand signs to make fun of the way he forced you to communicate, mocking your unconfident speech right after.

he saw the way you sunk into yourself afterwards, making his heart hurt as you grew impossibly smaller. your hands held your own as you prayed for it to be over.

everytime you'd catch him in the halls, you'd still freeze up. your breath shaky as you bowed and left quickly, making his friends laugh but make him queasy.

that interaction was witnessed by your teacher who, after a day of you not showing up, assigned him to give you your work for the day.

with sweaty palms and a racing heart, he dropped by your house. he knew where it was, of course he did, your mom and his were close industry friends even after the incident.

because you'd never told anyone about what he'd do to you.

he knocked on the door, attempting to seem nonchalant. when you answered though, he felt his heart lurch in his chest.

"[name], uh-- this is your work."

you didn't respond, you looked almost nauseous at the sight of him, it was deserved though.

he placed your work on the floor and walked off, that was the only time he'd spoken to you since the incident,

and he couldn't even apologize.

- - -

U-A wouldn't only be a dream for him, but a release for you both. was it selfish to want to run away from his problems? sure, but it'd help you too.

as everyone in the class exclaimed the names of the schools they picked, unsurprised at katsuki's choice, he pondered on where you'd go.

nobody asked you, so you didn't speak. staying quiet as you looked out the window.

katsuki got accepted into U-A easily, but he couldn't help but feel he lacked the main criteria. he'd hurt people poorly, and couldn't apologize because of his ego.

he felt sick to accept these accomplishments of his, knowing it'd be built up on the foundation of hurting you.

but he did anyway, selfishly. he kept up his harsh demeanor in U-A anyways, working hard and scoring high. he graduated top of his class, job offers to agencies left and right.

he accepted one, working for his old internship officially now. he climbed the ranks quickly, saving lives and catching the attention of the media.

a couple years later, he was a steady number five hero when he took a patrol route over for deku. as he strolled through the city, stores littering the buildings, he saw someone he never thought he'd see again.

you, only now working for your mothers seamstress company. you were embroidering something on the station, hands precise and focused, not noticing him.

he had to keep moving, but.. he made a mental note to come back later.

he finished his patrol anxious, he went to sleep thinking of what he'd even say to you. 'hey sorry for ruining your life, can you forgive me?' he slapped his forehead in frustration.

he searched up basic sign language for beginners, learning a bit. he laughed at the stupid thoughts of your forgiveness that he dreamt of.

"as if i deserve it." he muttered, looking deeply at the ceiling of his room before falling asleep.

as soon as he awoke, he got dressed and prepared. he tried to look causal, as if he wasn't planning this.

he walked in, immediately greeted by your mother who congratulated him on his heroics. "well isn't that dynamite? saving the world i see."

he laughed politely. "i'll be number one soon enough."

"of course! well, what're you looking for? i'll give you a family discount, you grew up so close to [name] didn't you?"

his heart jumped into his throat.

"uh.. we did."

"you two were so adorable! she was so nervous around you, she must've had a crush on you or something!"

"i definitely don't think so."

"oh, you're just being modest." she said, hitting his arm lightly. "there she is now, go and speak to her."

"uh-- i--"

"go!" she shoved him in your direction, making you look up to see him. your lips parted in an unrecognizable expression as you saw him, the line you were working on now crooked as you were left alone together.

it's been about ten years hadn't it? ten years since he last saw you, but a lifetime he needed to apologize for.

he'd learned so much in U-A, outwardly changing his demeanor to what he always aspired to be. but all that meant nothing to you, who only experienced him at his worst.

he awkwardly raised his hand up to you, he did his best to sign while speaking, his hands shaky and unconfident. "hi [name], i'm really sorry about what happened back then."

your eyes followed the movements, your hands absentmindedly wrapping around yourself loosely, defensively.

"i know this is a lot but,

can we be friends?"

he waited anxiously for you to answer, you looking as if you were processing it.

in a grown up, yet timid voice, one that he hadn't heard since you were young, you almost whispered, signing as you did so out of reflex. "thank you, bakugo." your eyes grew watery. great, he just couldn't seem to stop making you cry.

he sat near you after getting wordless permission to, hanging onto every word you spoke, and being mindful to speak in a calm tone himself.

"i.. i'd like a friend, honestly. a new one anyways."

he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when you said that, but still, it wasn't enough.

he wanted to, no needed to make you happy. the years of torment he subjected you to couldn't be made up by anything less than years of happiness.

after a bit of small talk, him asking you questions about what you'd been up to, how your life was treating you. he zoned out a couple times, thinking of how beautiful you've become.

"what would make you happy, [name]?" he finally said, his head supported on his hand as he gazed at you, making sure to enunciate his words so you could read his lips.

"what makes you ask?"

"i-- i want to make you happy. no matter the cost, it's what you deserve."

she laughed softly at that, her eyes flickering with an indistinguishable expression. "...i always wanted to travel. around the world, to see mountains and landscapes."

"then i'll take you."

"you don't have t--"

"i do. and ill do more [name], what i did to you was-- is horrible. you know that."

"i..

okay, okay bakugo."

"katsuki."

you smiled, "katsuki."

going from having very limited contact with your only friend from high school, to having a prohero come to your shop everyday was jarring. but not unwelcomed.

he brought gifts with him everytime, learning what you'd like and not. it ranged from food to stuffed animals, flowers to accessories, all of which you really appreciated.

you grew closer, eventually starting to meet outside of your mother's shop. at the park or walking around the mall, he'd take you anywhere you wanted to go. he'd pay for everything too, despite your reluctance.

he kept his word to you, and at the end of the month he asked you to come up to his apartment.

a penthouse.

as you walked in, greeted by the shimmering atmosphere of the expensive furniture and decor all around, abstract paintings and trophies littering shelves on the walls.

you stood by the front entrance, taking off your shoes as you walked in. "katsuki?" you asked, looking around.

he came out, a tiny smile on his face. "ya made it." he had something behind his back, "come in [name]."

the apartment was huge to say the least, it becoming even bigger than it looked from the entrance. he guided you to his plush couch, sitting next to you.

"so, i know you said you dreamt of traveling, right?"

at your nod, he pulled out the tickets from behind his back. "i.. got this tickets for you. i didn't want to push it in case you didn't want me to go with you but--"

you cut him off with a hug, tackling him into the couch.

"of course i want you to come,

katsuki."

you signed his name differently than other times,

you'd finally made a name for him.

he hugged back mindfully, so excited to finally have a huge first step in the right direction.

but he still needed to make you happy. "we'll leave in two days if that's okay, i just wanted to give you time to pack."

"okay, that's good."

"do you.. want to stay?" he asked nervously, the thought had popped into his mind and out his mouth in a millisecond.

you blinked, sitting up on his legs, pondering it over.

"sure, okay."

he put on some movies for the two of you, his heart was racing at the proximity of your body to his.

the night ended with you laid on top of him, fast asleep as he was comforted by the beating of your heart against his. your chest against his, his hand in your hair as your head laid in his neck.

he woke up first, to the sight of the gold light making you look heavenly, your hair messy from how he was playing with it throughout the night. your face was almost against his, he could kiss you right now.

but he shouldn't. he would move but he didn't want to couldn't, so he looked you over. you woke up to the feeling of his fingers caressing your face, your eyes half lidded from sleep.

"'suki. g'morning."

his heart was getting used to irregularly pounding around you at this point. "[name], uh-- hi."

after a couple moments, you got off of him, much to his discontent. his hands sliding down your legs as you got up.

"i'll be going now, i gotta pack and stuff." you said, looking in one of the many mirrors scattered around as you fixed your appearance as much as you could.

he nodded. "let me walk you home at least."

and he did walk you home, hand in hand.

those two nights he spent pondering over you. he didn't know why, but hero work felt much lighter after talking it out with you. becoming your friend was one of the best things he'd achieved in years, and that was including his recent rankings.

he thought back to how he treated you as a kid, had he really just been searching for your validation all along?

is that why it hurt when you told him he'd never amount to his dreams, because he only valued your opinion?

he let himself sleep, he'd see you tomorrow. and he'd make it all right.

he woke up and picked you up at your place, his expensive sports car standing out against the comfort of the neighborhood. you walked out, dressed simply but cute, a bag of your own in hand.

he grabbed it from you and placed it in the back, opening the passenger door for you as he drove to the airport. his hand on your thigh as he did so, letting you play the music you'd like with loud bass.

it was a half hour ride in comfortable silence, he gazed at you occasionally, a thoughtful expression on your face.

on the plane, you sat by the window. it was first class so you'd get to sleep in a physical bed, in a closed room. you were treated to whatever food and drinks you wanted, hugging katsuki when you found out you where you were heading.

the flight was a long eighteen hours, but it was spent hanging out with katsuki. on his lap asking him questions about the shows you two had watched, power scaling arguments about past heroes, fights he'd recently been in.

also what you two planned to do as you were there, you wanted to go to the beaches and mountains, he just wanted to follow you.

you fell asleep together again, your face laid directly in his chest as he held you.

you woke up to katsuki tapping you on the shoulder. as you raised the volume on your aids, you heard the beeping on the intercoms that meant you'd have to go back to your seats for the landing, groggily being helped up by katsuki as he moved you to to your seats.

you sat by the windows, looking at the tropical region as you two landed, your hand still in his. the moments after we're a blur, before you knew it you were in a car being buckled up by katsuki as you were being driven to your hotel.

what you didn't know was that it was a villa, built on top of the waters of the ocean, your very own private beach right outside your doors with the mountains you'd dreamt of treking right behind you.

you'd never been so happy.

the days you'd spent started and ended all the same, you waking up and going to sleep in katsuki's arms. pretending like you didn't notice how your bed hair got worsened after he played with it all night.

the first days you'd spent at the beach, attempting and failing at surfing. your jet lag was killed off by your utter excitement.

you being thankful your aids were water resistant because of how much you loved the waters of the river and the seas.

you'd had a sandcastle competition, sunbathed, and soaked off in the hot tub of your villa together.

the trek's were fun too, katsuki was annoyingly good at everything so you'd have to fight to keep up.

your polaroid in hand as you snapped candid shots of him, turning it to yourself as you got a selfie of you two with the gorgeous rivers as background.

you jumped into those too, making katsuki freak out as you dived in to the deep waters.

you even got to the top one day, jokingly saying that you should've brought a flag to the top to celebrate. the golden hours of the sunset making you glimmer.

a moment of silence passed over you as he slowly approached you, wordlessly asking for permission as you once again put your hands in his.

you leaned in first, kissing him with the sun as witness.

"i really like you [name]." he sighed and spoke after you pulled away.

"i like you too." you replied, hugging him tightly.

the rest of your trip was filled with your firsts with katsuki.

your first official date was in the burrows of the forest, a picnic where you two painted portraits of eachother. albeit, unique portraits... but painting nonetheless.

your first moment truly loving someone, the feeling you recognized as you laid him in your lap for the first time.

your first talk about what happened all those years ago. a deep one.

"[name], before we become something um.. official. we need to talk about how i hurt you." katsuki said one day, laying faced to you but taking your hands into his.

"kats--"

"let me speak. please." after you nodded, he took a breath and began.

"i was egotistical and really insecure all those years. you were the only one who really read me, that's why i think i got so upset.

i didn't mean to hurt you, i never wanted to hurt anyone i swear-- i just hated that you were right.

that weighed over me all these years, the fact that my hero work meant nothing if i was doing it while acting so.. unheroic.

i never fully felt like a hero, not until i met you again.

not until you graced me with your friendship, your undeserved affection towards me. i just-- i really care about you. and im really sorry, ill spend the rest of my life apologizing to you, and you don't have to accept it because i don't deserve it.

i guess what i'm trying to say is..

sorry, and.. i love you [name].

you don't have to--"

he was cut off by a kiss on his lips.

it felt different somehow, he couldn't place it. almost sad in a way as you pulled back.

"i don't think you were trying to hurt me. but, you did.

and you're working to change it, i appreciate that.

i really care for you too katsuki."

the rest of your trip was comfortingly domestic, learning things about each other you'd never know.

your last week was bittersweet, having to leave your jointed paradise was a reality that saddened the both of you. but your dream was fulfilled, and so was his.

seeing that he was the cause of your smiles and not your horror, making you happy was the light of his day. no, his life.

he thinks he was born to make you happy.

the flight back was a blur, you spent it clinging to him. you started to gift him your own things over the hours, a scrunchie of yours, a bracelet for him to keep.

a locket with a photo of you two, and the polaroid you'd taken on the mountains.

"why are you giving this all to me? not that i'm complaining."

"well, you'll get more use out of it. that's all."

he scrunched his face up in confusion, but with a smile you waved off his concerns.

he wished he pushed you more.

he wished that you'd forgive him for failing you once again, as he fought to take the razor blade out of your grip, slicing your hand in the process.

you were in your bathtub, surrounded by water yet fully clothed, tears and wails wracking your body as you just wanted it to be over.

you finally relented, your blood staining his clothes and the water as he picked you up. you couldn't hear him, you'd taken out your aid.

but you could feel his sobs, his tears hitting you as you shut your eyes, embarrassed of what you'd just done.

you were rushed to the hospital and given stitches, you were to be closely watched from your mom now on, you were told by an interpreter.

katsuki's eyes were red, matching his pupils as he looked at you.

he was frustrated, you could see it in the trembling of his fists and the scowl in his mouth. if he hadn't been there.. you would be dead.

why, he asked you. and to be honest, you really couldn't explain it yourself.

when you got home to your apartment, empty and reminding of your reality away from katsuki, you just felt so..

scared. what would happen when he finally got the validation he needed and left you? your whole life was quiet and tranquil, you'd gotten used to it. but he flipped it upside down again, showed you what your life really could be.

it was too much for you. you had to escape, so after sitting on it, tapping your leg anxiously as you pondered your decision, you went on your phone.

you went online and saw his life outside of you, how he had everything going for him yet what did you really have? a mom and a job at her company?

you grew impulsive, grabbing it absentmindedly and filling up the tub with the water you grown to love over the past month.

after you started bleeding, you panicked. what had you just done? but it was too late..

until he saved you from yourself.

you were zoning out. when you didn't answer him, he repeated himself, grabbing the interpreter so you could sign.

but still you said nothing, except a small sorry.

he left afterwards, leaving you alone in the bed to think.

you were back in your childhood room now, your mom having sobbed as she looked over your hands, as she asked you, "what the hell were you thinking?"

you looked at those glow in the dark stars and tried to find an answer, but there was none.

you held yourself to sleep for the first time in months, already missing him deeply.

little did you know, he was thinking about you too.

the next morning you awoke to a knock on your bedroom door. assuming it was your mom, you got up and opened it.

it was katsuki instead, holding a bouquet of flowers and the locket you'd given him.

"can i come in?"

you opened the door wider, leading him to sit on your bed.

"katsuki i--"

"[name]. i don't know why you did what you did.. but i know it probably has something to do with me. so what did i do wrong?" he looked defeated, as if he thought it was his fault you tried to end your life.

"no! no that wasn't it at all. well, it was about you but not like that.

it's just.. i've been alone. for so long? having you around felt.. too good to be true. i didn't want to go back to how i was before. in a way, you were too good for me."

"you're.. an idiot. but i guess i understand."

"i just.. i really love how you treat me. i didn't want it to go away."

a moment of silence passes, a small anxious laugh leaving katsuki's lips.

"fuck, i thought you hated me. could barely sleep without you."

he pulled you into him, staring deeply into your eyes as he pulled you impossibly closer. he kissed you deeply. his worries, passions, and frustrations all poured out into it.

he pulled away, eyes half lidded as he asked gruffly.

"wanna take this back to my place?"

he took your last first away, gentle and loving as he guided you through it. reassuring you that he'd never leave you.

you moved in with him soon after, finding it hard to sleep without eachother, no matter how late he got back to your shared home.

he'd be welcomed back by the sight of you, who always tried and failed to stay up waiting for him. he'd pick you up, like always, and hug you to sleep.

he'd know he woke you up by the feeling of your smile in his chest, the way you tightened you arms around him.

he loved spending every waking moment he could with you. you were right though, he did break up with you after he got your validation.

...

but that's just an odd way to say he proposed to you, vowing to spend the rest of his life making you happy and fufiling your wishes one by one.

he changed not only himself, but the way you see yourself. he changed your relationships with yourselves and eachother for the better,

and as you walked down the aisle, your wedding planned by your two designer parents, being lavish and gorgeous. the silk on the floor being runway to your expensive shoes specially designed for you, the guests in awe of how gorgeous you are.

you both knew, you'd better eachother for better or for worse, for as long as you'd be together.

he signed 'i do', sealing the rest of your lives together,

with a kiss.

[adelliet]

Wolverine x f!reader

STRIP-TEASE SECRETS

Summary: You work as a stripper at a local club. It's a normal busy Friday, but fate has other plans for you, when you spot a handsome man, sitting at the bar.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, strong language, anxiety, nicknames, stripper work, inappropriate touching, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (p i v), creampie, flirting, sensitive themes, aftercare

A/n: Hi pookies! I want to apologize for any grammatical mistakes or nonsensical sentences. English is not my native language! Thank you and enjoy <3

"Come on dude, when was the last time you had a good fuck?" Wade asked with a bit of curiosity in his voice, but all he got was a frown that instilled horror. "Ugh come on sugarbear! You'll enjoy yourself for a while and then you'll be out in no time!" Wade didn't take Logan's warning look seriously and still tried to convince his annoyed friend to go to the strip club with him.

"This is not for me" Logan finally answered, although it was a very cutting and strict voice. Wase sighed again, but decided to keep trying. "Okay, well, at least walk me in and then do whatever you want. You know I'm only going there for Vanessa" Logan knew how much that asshole loved the stripper. He talks about her all the time. Although Logan had seen her just few times, he felt that she was a perfect match for Wade, the two complement each other and, after all, opposites attract.

"Fine, but I'll just accompany you, nothing else" Logan hated when his roommate brought out his kind and helpful side. He hates to admit it, but he really likes that bastard. As soon as Logan said that, Wade’s eyes lit up and he formed a huge, slightly terrifying, grinning from ear to ear. He looked like a kid that got a lollipop.

He recklessly lunged at Logan and hugged him tight, really tight. Logan grunted in annoyance and held his hands to his sides as he was trapped by the male body of his roommate. After a few seconds, Logan tried to break free from the hug, but it wasn't that easy. After a few more stronger attempts, he finally jerked and pushed Wade away from him. It was a bit of a personal move, but Wade didn't mind, he was still smiling like a clown.

"Okay, I'm going to change and then we can go" Wade said contentedly and immidiately disappeared into his room. Logan sighed and shook his head. Wade is really a teenager trapped in an adult body and everybody knows it.

When they both arrived at the parking lot right next to a small building with a pink glowing sign that has a silhouette of a naked woman on it, Logan was already fed up. Even if you were blind, you could tell by the loud music coming from the bulding, that this was some kind of club. Women's laughter added spice to it and especially the last hint that it was a strip club.

"So, we're here " Wade excitedly pulled out the car keys and checked on Logan, who didn't look thrilled twice. "Come on, don't be so grumpy" He nudged him lightly with his shoulder, which only made him angrier. Wade just let out a disappointed sigh as he still tried to talk Logan down with his puppy dog ​​eyes.

"There's no fucking chance you're going to get me there" Logan growled angrily, looking away from Wade, so he couldn't manipulate him anymore with his stupid face. "Sure, of course…only that there is a bar with drinks and many types of beer” Wade smirked, knowing the alcohol would work on Logan, and it really did. "Seriously?" Logan jerked his head and looked at Wade. "Yep, there's ale, lager, stout, porter and many more. There is also way more stronger liquids and-" "5 beers and I'm leaving" Logan made a statement and left the car in rapid speed. Wade happily pulled down a fist and quickly ran after Logan.

Loud music tickled your ears while you were backstage, getting ready to replace your colleague on the stage. “Girl be careful, they are quite…aggressive today” Vanessa advised you while you were adding last details to your makeup. You looked at at Vanessa with worried expressions through the reflection in the mirror.

Fridays were always the roughest. The club was full of men of all ages, married or single, no one really cared till' they paid, but you kinda did. Whenever you saw a guy with a ring on his hand while his tongue is almost falling out and his eyes are full of lust, it made you disgusted, but you can't just get out of the role and stop dancing. This is just one of the negatives of being a stripper.

The positive thing is money, lots of money. Plus, there are specific rules there that customers must follow, otherwise they will be kicked out by security guards. One of the biggest and most important rules is not to touch the dancers. You'd be lying if you said you've never been touched by a guy while dancing, but luckily, it wasn't anything serious and when it was, security always took care of it. You and other strippers kind of came up with this rule and it was a damn great idea. It gives you a little peace in your head, knowing that your back is guarded by massive bodybuilders.

"Like every Friday" you sighed and pressed the lid back on the lipstick. Vanessa just nodded in agreement and gave you a supportive look, as you got up from your chair and walked over to her. "Oh and my boyfriend is picking me up today" "Wade?" you added and Vanessa's eyes immediately lit up. You've never actually met or see Wade on your own, but you heard about him a lot. Vanessa just won't stop talking about him and even tho it annoy you sometimes, you find it sweet. She is so in love and you hope that one day, you'll have what she has.

"You remember!" she smiled and you chuckled. "Of course I remember, you talk about him every day" Vanessa nervously laugh and blushed, as you accused her of something, that is clearly obvious. She then gave you apologetic eyes. “Don't worry Van, I don't mind” she immidiately smiled and breath in to say something, but before she manage to do that, you heard your name and command to go on stage.

You took a deep breath and gave Vanessa one last warm smile, before opening the curtains and revealing yourself. You put on your typical sexy smirk and slowly walk over to a shiny pole with grace. During your cat walk, you already obtain a lot of whistles and creepy growling.

You looked around, smiling at the men sitting around you, staring at you like hunters for their prey. When you got to your pole, you gracefully turned around it, showing your back and your ass, receiving another wave of whistles. You always loved this beginning, when everything was just getting started, but you adored the dance itself the most. It didn't even matter that all the men admired you and wanted to fuck you, you lived for pole dancing and for money.

The music slowly started to pick up, and so did your movements. You wrapped one leg around the pole and turned slightly on it like a swan. Your hair fluttered softly with the movement of your head and body. On every beat of the song, you made some sexy move, rough and nimble, that drove all men crazy. Your confident face was the icing on the cake for the whole dance and before long, you had a pile of cash on the stage.

Your dance moves were getting hotter and hotter, your facial expressions were extremely flirtatious and you were enjoying it as much as you could. Money poured in to your feet, some of the men stood up and reached out to touch you, just a little. You played with them, the power on the stage always gave you plenty of confidence and the sight of the males beneath you, made you feel mighty.

All the stress and fear of men was gone and the whole area, where you were present, smelled of feminism, strenght and bitter sex. All signs that gave men erection in a second. You yourself noticed that some of them already had a tent in their pants, but you couldn't decide if you were flattered or disgusted. Either way, there was no time for this, there was no time to think. When it comes to striptease, thinking always goes by wayside.

The song was approaching an end, your choreography was slowing down but still had some sort of passion and spiciness in it. You bite your lips as you were laying on your back, your hand traveling from your neck lower and lower. When your hand was close to your sensitive spot between your legs, your eyes quickly flicked at the bar. It was a natural instinct to find out if the men at the bar were also looking at you, or at your colleague, that was dancing on the other side of the club.

Your eyes caught a target. There was only one man sitting at the bar, middle-aged with long brown hair and a beard. You didn't have time to analyze him in more detail, but nevertheless he stuck in your memory, because he was really looking at you, but not in a creepy hungry way. This guy had a neutral expression, not moving a single muscle as he watched you. This was not usual.

You had to admit that he caught you off guard, but you still had a few seconds left to complete your choreography, which you did perfectly. In addition to loud applause, whistles and male deep shouts, you also received another avalanche of money. You smiled as you bowed and went to grab the money, but one of the men crawled onto the stage and aggressively grabbed your hair.

You immediately dropped the money and gasped loudly, trying to break free from the man's grip, but luckily the security guards stopped him, before anything worse could happen. You moved away from the edge of the stage with lightning speed and when you saw those hungry faces, your confidence disappeared and was replaced by fear again. Anxiety began to besiege you and you quickly ran backstage in a panic.

"Hey hey hey darlin' what's wrong?" Vanessa immediately took care of you and stroked your back while you still had terror in your eyes. "You were right, they are aggressive" you said and Vanessa hugged you, rubbing your hair and calming you down. Sometimes you think you weren't made for this. Yes, you love dancing and yes, pole dancing even more, but you also have these anxious moments whenever something like that happens. Being a stripper means having courage, strength and not being a pussy, but you don't exactly have these properties.

"It's okay, I'm fine, I just had to calm down a bit" you broke free from the hug and smiled softly at Vanessa, who didn't quite believe you, but didn't want to burden you with questions. "'Kay but you know what would help? A really strong drink." you rolled your eyes and shook your head in disbelief, as Vanessa tries to make you an alcoholic again.

"No I'm serious! You will relax and it'll help you!" you knew she was right, she is always right. Whenever you get this anxiety attack, or whatever that is, alcohol is the best cure. "Thanks Van" she gave you a warm smile and then checked the clock. "Shit! I gotta go" her eyes widened and quickly grabbed her purse. "Bye darlin' be safe!" she shouts at you as she was disappearing into the distance.

You were shaking your head as your lips left a soft giggle and decided to take Van's advice. You just quickly check your make-up in a mirror, if it's not ruined and then change your clothes into a less revealing suit. There is another, kinda strict rule, that dancers are not allowed to change into non-striptease clothes, until they left. It was a little uncomfortable, walking around all those men in the sexy revealing fabric. You were little too close to them and since almost everyone were higher than you, even though you were wearing heels, you felt like a sheep among wolves. Easy to catch and security wouldn't even notice you among the heavy crowd.

Still, despite the danger, you decided to risk it and go to the bar for a drink that would boost your energy. You were already thinking which one you'd choose, when you noticed that there was no one sitting at the bar, not even the guy whom you saw during your seductive dance.

You felt little dissaponted, because he seemed fine, even though you saw him just for a second from a distance. You wanted to get to know him, but fate apparently had other plans. You didn't bother with it for a long time and sat down on one of the barstools.

"One martini please" you raised a finger at bartender Kevin, who is a gay therapist for strippers and a very good friend. "Someone attacked you again?" he asked as he was cleaning glass with a cloth and analyzed your frustrated face. You felt chill down your spine, as Kevin said again. The worst part was, that it was true, this isn't the first and probably not the last time some asshole touched or attacked you while dancing. On the other hand, this is the best reason and excuse to get drunk.

“Okay baby don't worry, I'll double the gin shot for you” he smiled and you smiled back, even though you were completely bushed.You turn around on your seat and by the time Kevin was preparing your drink, you watched your colleague dancing on the stage you were just standing on few minutes ago.

She was breathtaking, her moves were graceful and delicate and her make-up perfectly suit her dress. She was your inspiration and you watched her not only because she danced amazingly, but to catch some of her moves and add them to your own choreography. She dazzled you so much that you didn't even realize how quickly time passed and Kevin already slide your glass to you.

“Thanks” you whisper to him and nod your head while you took a sip from your glass. Woah, it was really strong. You winced, squeezing your eyes as you felt the burning liquid sliding in your throat. When it finally reached your stomach, you put the glass back on the bar table and breath out. This was exactly what you needed. But before you could take another sip, you were interrupted by a large male hand on your waist. You jumped on your seat and looked behind you, surprised and confused at once.

Anyway, the sight did not satisfy you at all. An older man around 40s with a long beard smiled at you like a creep. He walked around you and sat right next to you at the bar. Unfortunately, Kevin was on the other side of the bar, far away from you, talking with someone and it looked like a long conversation. "So babygirl, how much?" he scurrilously asked you and stroked your shoulder with his finger, which you jerked instantly.

“Excuse me?” you offendedly furrowed your eyebrows and checked the guy up and down. When you notice a golden ring embracing one of his finger, it made you sick. "Come on sweatheart, I got the money just tell me how much" his deep voice makes your heartbeat quicker, but not from excitement, from fear.

"Sir I don't know what you're talking about" you knew very well what he was talking about, you just hoped he meant something else. "Come on, don't play dumb" you knew it's getting serious when you felt his hand on your thigh, squeezing and massaging it. Your whole body was surrounded by goosebumps, your hands and legs started to shake.

"Sir, get your hand off me" you still tried not to fully panic and convince the guy, but you slowly started losing hope. "Or what?" he smiled mockingly, sliding his hand upwards. You breathed in and closed your eyes, still trying to stay calm and act formally. "Or the security guards will kick you out" this warning didn't scare that creep at all, on the contrary, it made him laugh even more. "Oh really? You think they'll see you through all the people in here?" the answer was clearly no, you knew that and that made you feel even more stressed.

You nervously look around, trying to find even one security guard nearby, but it was in vain, everyone was paying attention around your fellow dancers and not others. "Don't be scared, we're going to have a good time together" he squeezed your thigh again, really hard this time, making you gasp. "Sir, I'm begging you for the last time, take that hand off me and go away" you voice was shaking, clearly showing that you're afraid, but there was also a clear warning in your voice, which he still didn't take seriously.

"And I'm telling you for the last time, be a good girl and do what I tell you" he hissed through his teeth. You could notice he was getting angrier that you were still refusing him and you've already thought about a plan how you're going to ran away from him. Suddenly, you heard another man's coughing behind that bastard, who was still holding your leg tightly.

You both looked after the sound and reacted differently. When you realize it was the guy that watched you during your dance, your eyes lit up with hope and a tiny smile appeared on your face. That idiot next to you just gave him a nasty look and groan. “Get lost” he turned his head back to you. "I'm afraid you're sitting in my seat" Your hero snarled, still standing behind the creep. "Not anymore, now leave us alone" you just watched them with anticipation.

"You know you're breaking a rule?" this was the last straw for that asshole. He swiftly turned around and stood up, so that he was on the same level as the pretty looking guy, except he wasn't. The married one was smaller and he just embarrassed himself by this move. You tried your best not to laugh. "I'll repeat it for the last time, get lost" the creep growled angrily, as if it was supposed to instill a fear.

"I'll also repeat it one last time" that handsome suddenly grabbed the other man's shirt and pulled out iron claws from his knuckles, making you jump in shock. He was almost touching the tip of the claws by his neck, just a centimeter in and he would cut his throat in a half. "You broke the rule, don't touch the dancers" that idiot was shaking and sweating in fear, you'd bet he just pooped his pants.

"So it'll go like this bub, you'll apologize this lady, you'll leave and you'll never come back" you couldn't help but smirk and blush a little, his voice was strong and low, he sounded like a wolf and when you were thinking about it, he kinda looked like one. His haircut was formed into ears and his jawline was surrounded by beard, it really gave him that wild-animal look. You had to admit it, it looked really hot.

"Understood?!" he jolted with the guy, when he still didn't receive a response. "Y-yes" that bastard quickly nodded and as soon as he was released, he quickly and quietly apologized to you and bolted from the club in lightning speed. All fear and worry washed away from you, when that wolfie, who just saved your ass, sat down next to you.

You admired him for a sec, before you finally gain enough courage to talk to him. "Thank you" you beeped quietly but he heard you very well. "Sure thing, these guys are disgusting" he looked to the direction that creep ran away and then, without any warning, looked into your face, making eye contact with you. You got lost in his coffee brown eyes almost instantly. For a while, it felt like there was nothing and no one but just the two of you. The music was muffle, vision blurry except from him.

You shook your head a little when you notice his lips moving, clearly saying something to you, but you were too lost in your thoughts. He had to repeat himself again. "You're pretty good dancer" he waved at Kevin to take his order. His simple compliment, which definitely wasn't your first one, made you butterflies in your stomach.

"T-thank you" you stuttered a little, earning a small scuff from him. "I'm Logan, by the way" he finally introduced himself and before you could say your name too, Kevin interrupted you. "Okay Logan, what would you like?" "One beer" Kevin nodded and handed him a green bottle. It took Logan one swift move to open that lid, you knew you would struggle with it for at least fifteen minutes.

You watched him drinking from that bottle, his head slightly threw back, his adam's apple sticking out of his neck and whenever he swallowed, you could hear it and even felt it inside you. Now you felt like a freak. You tried to remember him, analyze every detail on his body and face, because even though you had barely met, you wanted to engrave his sexy face in your head, just in case. Who wouldn't want to remember such a handsome man, that you don't see every day.

"What's your name?" Logan caught you lost in your thoughts again and brought you back to earth. Fortunately, you finally heard his words and answered him. "Y/n" you smiled proudly, when you finally manage to say something without stuttering. "That's a lovely name" he smirked and took another sip from his bottle, while watching you. God this guy was something else.

"I haven't seen you here before..." you break the eye contact out of nervousness and start making circles around your glass with martini. "Maybe because it's my first time here" you look at him surprised. "Really?" he nodded. "Yeah, no offense but this is just not for me" well, you felt a little offended but you also knew how he meant it.

"Right, then why are you here?" "I'm just waiting for my friend" you paused for a moment, squeezing your eyes until you put puzzles together and realized. "Wait, are you Wade?" he looked at you with confused look and furrowed eyebrows, like you just said the nastiest insult that exists.

"No? Why on earth would you think that?" his sudden change in voice caught you by surprise, but when he realized the impact his words had on you, his eyes softened and he cleared his throat before explaining himself. "Wade is my friend, the one I'm waiting for..." you formed your lips in an O shape, when you realized. This made much more sense, not that Van wouldn't pull out this beast, but he's definitely not her type at all.

"...well, was waiting. He texted me few minutes ago that he's goin' to sleep at his girlfriend's house, so I don't have any reason to stay here anymore” he took another sip of beer and you gave him a disappointed expression. "Right..." you sigh and finally took a sip from your own drink too. "Well, maybe I could find a reason to stay" you harshly turned to face him and had to smile, when he clearly indicated that the reason was you.

"So, tell me something about yourself" he asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing. You were already red as a tomato when Logan showed interest in you, even though it was just a normal question without any other intention. It was hard to describe what you felt, but it was some kind of excitement, joy and, above all, safety. You don't even remember how long you felt like this with a man.

"What would you like to know?" you raised your eyebrows flirtatiously and took a sip from your martini, while maintaining eye contact with him. It was a pretty hard task, but you managed to do it ravishingly. "Everything you want me to know" he gave you something between cute and devilish smile, that sends incredible waves of pleasure right between your legs. You placed your glass back on the desk and moved your ass a bit, to lower the vibration in your panties.

“Well I suppose you're wondering, how I got…here” you motioned to the club around you and Logan nodded in agreement. You clear your throat before starting to tell your life-story, which almost no one knows, but you feel a special energy from this man that directly forces you to confide in him.

“My dad left me when I was five and my mom died two years after, so my uncle, who happened to own this club, took me into care” you were too nervous to talk about your difficult childhood and looking into Logan's face the whole time. But whenever you looked at him, he gave you one hundred percent attention and his eyebrows were a little furrowed, how much he concentrated on your every word. "A few years later, I got acquainted with pole dancing, which I started to enjoy and I even won many awards" you giggle as you remembered your cups and medals lying in your room. "But then we had a problem with money, mainly me so I started working here and since then, I was hooked and never let go"

After your lifestory-telling, you finally worked up the courage to look at Logan, who was giving you sad expression. "I'm sorry..." he dropped his head with a deep voice, before an awkward silence appeard for a moment, where only the background music could be heard. "You don't have to, I'm fine!"

You smiled at him and you were truly having a good time right now. You were sitting next to a handsome guy, who saved you from a creep just few minutes ago, you're telling him about yourself without being afraid or regretting it afterwards, you don't need anything more. "Fine? Working here is fine?" he was looking at you through his bushy eyebrows, little frustrated. You didn't know what to say. "Look, you look like a beautiful and talented girl, who has much better potential than parade around in front of horny guys"

"It's not just that..." you lied to yourself, it was exactly about that. That pole dancing was only a bonus, that actually keeps you in this career. “Oh really?” he angrily propped himself up on his elbow and watched you deeply. You looked at him cautiously. "Come on, you know there are much better places than this" he confronts you and you already knew everything he was saying, but it was just hard to suddenly leave when you've already put so much into it. "I know, but it's hard to throw away a thing that's been a part of your life for such a long time" you played with your glass and felt tears creating in your eyes.

"I see..." he sighs. "But change is nice sometimes” he gave you a comfortable smiled and you returned it to him. Maybe he was right, maybe this was all fate and a sign that you should pack it in and finally do something more formal and finally have some pride. "And what about you Logan? What's your backstory, hm?" you turn your whole body towards him, making him scoff at your question. "Well...this is gonna take a long time”

A few hours passed and you knew Logan so well,that it felt like you had known him for years. You told each other stories, trite and funny, told some basic facts about yourselfs and drank one shot after another. Your head was spinning a little, but you still managed to speak and hear clearly.

"You know, you're the first mutant in my life" "Oh really?" he gave you a cocky smile and you nodded. "Yeah, it's great" Logan was already noticing the effect the alcohol had on you, that's why, when you reached for another shot, he grabbed your hand quickly, before gently putting it onto your legs. "I think that's enough" you whined and gave him puppy dog ​​eyes, which did indeed work, but Logan cared about your health more.

"Do you have a ride home?" you shake your head. "Alright, come here" Logan stood up from his seat and offered you a hand for help. You refuse it at first, but when you almost fell down as you climbed off from the barstool, you actually appreciated his help. "Easy baby, easy" you heard his subtle addition of the nickname very well, but you were too drunk to react to it.

Logan held your waist tightly to keep your balance, as you slowly but surely pushing your way through the crowd towards exit. "Do you have everything you need?" Logan looked down at you and it was this moment you actually realized, how tall and big he was. You looked up at him and nodded your head in amazement. His hand on your weist was massive, and so was his body, that entirely hide yours. This was the security you always wanted.

When you finally made it out of the club and into Logan's car, you were asleep within minutes. You didn't perceive your surroundings, nothing at all, all you had in front of you was darkness and dreams. Logan watched you for a moment, before he started the engine and drove away from the parking lot.

A ray of sun shining right into your face woke you up. You groaned and rubbed your eyes until you opened them. Surprisingly, you didn't have a hangover and felt fresh, but there was a small issue, you had no idea where you were.

The blanket you were covered under was not yours, the bed underneath you wasn't yours and last but not least, the room you were in was definitely not yours. Where the fuck are you?!

However, before you could analyze the environment and form an opinion about where you might be at, your answer came, knocking on the door and then slowly opening it. The cracking sound was killing your ears. "Hey, did I wake you up?" Logan asked softly, as his eyebrows rised and he was half out.

You were too stunned to speak, so you just shook your head and gave him a cute little smile. "Good..." he whispered silently and walked fully in. You watched him as he approached you, with a glass of water in his hand. "Here, though you'll be thirsty" he handed you the glass and stood in front of you, waiting until you hydrate yourself.

"So um...you were pretty drunk yesterday" you almost choke as those words tickle your eardrums. "D-did I say something…inappropriate?" you asked cautiously with concern in your voice. "No....no" he scoffed and shook his head, making you exhale from the relief.

"You just kept telling me how handsome I am" your eyes widened and you immediately started turning red. You gave him an are you serious look, but unfortunately, he wasn't kidding. You put the glass next to the bedside table and dropped your head into your hands. "Sorry" you whined into your palms, earning another scoff from Logan.

“Don't apologize darlin'-" he cut his sentence with coughing, which helps you think about other things than how you totally embarrassed yourself yesterday. "Um…it's pretty late for breakfast, what do you want for lunch?" he quickly changed the subject, but you didn't forget that nickname he just called you by. "Lunch? No wait I don't want to bother you" you got out of bed and only then you realized, you were still in your sexy outfit and forgot to change at the club.

Logan's eyes quickly checks you out before looking away like a gentleman, even though he literally saw you in this dress yesterday. He cleared his throat to ease the awkward situation, but that didn't really help. "Um I'm just gonna-" you wanted to walk past him but he grabbed your wrist tightly and pushed you back in front of him. "I won't let you out with hungry stomach" he said while directly watching into your eyes. It felt like he hypnotized you, so you agreed.

"There are some of my t-shirts in the closet..." he said, scratching his neck as he made his way to the door. "Then come to kitchen" these were the last words before he closed the door behind him. You stood stiffly in place, trying to process this whole situation.

It felt like a dream, yesterday you were at a bar with a funny, gorgeous man and in the morning, you wake up at his house, dressed and safe. What kind of fanfic is this?

Putting on one of Logan's dark green shirts, that reached your knees, you carefully walked out of the room into, what appeared to be the kitchen. Logan wasn't there though, but you quickly turned behind you, when you heard sounds of fabric and floor creaking. Logan stood up from the couch and checked you out again. He don't even try to hide it.

"It suits you better than me" he pointed at you, making you blush and giggle. You felt like a 10 years old again, the most comfortable feeling. Logan walked over to you, not too close but close enough. You were glaring at him, your neck hurting from keeping your head up, looking into his coffee coded eyes. "What do you want for lunch?" "W-what?" you got a little lost in your thoughts and had to recap what Logan just asked you.

“Oh…I don't know, anything” you didn't want to look demanding and at the same time, you didn't want to busy yourself with talking, when you could watch this handsome guy. "Have you ever had sushi?" you furrow your eyebrows, trying to remember the taste of it. "No..." you shake your head, surprised by yourself that you haven't had that before. "Really? You have to try it" Logan raised his eyebrows in disbelief and made a decision.

He walked around you and picked up the phone, ordering a sushi and some sodas with it. During his call, you had plenty of time to admire him again, how small that phone looked in his hand. How did his hair look so silky and divine, what kind of shampoo is he using? And his eyes? God his eyes are your new favorite series.

When Logan hung up, you had to come back to reality and act like a normal person, not some creep who constantly admires him. "Now we'll wait" his corners lifted up and you had to lean on the counter to keep your balance. Does he even realize what he's doing to you? Or is it just a hangover from yesterday...hard to say.

“So you're telling me you've never had sushi before?” Logan leaned against the counter you were also leaning on, making the distance between you smaller. "No!" you laugh out, making Logan shake his head in disbelief accompanied by a tsk tsk tsk. "I can't believe it" he dramatized the situation and you made an ironic-offended expression. You were holding eye contact for a few seconds, before both of you broke and laughed.

"Um...by the way" you said when you calmed down a bit. "I wanted to thank you for everything, actually" you nervously played with your fingers, waiting for Logan's reaction. You were stressed over nothing, because Logan used a warm smile to let you know, that you had nothing to be thankful for.

Suddenly, his phone rings, announcing that the food is here. "And now you gonna find out how heaven feels like" he winks at you as he leaves the apartment quickly. You giggle and cover your face, feeling the heat coming from your cheeks. You must look like a tomato right now.

It wasn't long before Logan returned with a brown paper bag. He looked so excited. Without any further words, he quickly came to the counter, unwrapped the sushi and opened it. Before you blinked twice, he was already holding one roll between his fingers. "Open your mouth" he guides you, waiting for your lips to part away.

You obediently did as he told you. Logan slowly pushed the roll into your mouth, his eyes twitching between your lips to your eyes. You wrapped your lips around his fingers, sucking the remains, until a pop sound came from you. He jerked his head to get over his dirty thoughts and eagerly waited for your reaction. You kept him tense for a while, chewing loudly with a focused expression.

A proud smile started forming on his face, when you close your eyes and groan in pleasure of the taste. "How's it?" he asked to make sure you 100% liked it. "It's...delicious" he clapped his hands and screamed in excitement, right after you said that. He was satisfied and glad, throwing one sushi in his mouth as a reward.

"Damn it's really good" you giggle as you keep chewing. "I know!" Logan happily shouted and grab another roll, waiting for you to take it from his fingers. You did, sucking on his fingers again and couldn't lie, teasing him a little by that move. “Mhmm” you grunted and threw your head back. Logan watched you, taking a deep inhale, trying really hard not to create unchristian scenarios in his head, but you were making it really hard for him.

“Come here, you have to try it with this sauce too” he waves at you, giving you a signal to come closer to him. You didn't hesitate any further and spawn right next to him in a matter of seconds. Even though you were already close enough and able to grab the sushi roll yourself, Logan took it into his own hands anyway.

He grab the roll, dip it into sauce and put a hand underneath it, to not soil the floor. He turned to face you. "Mouth" Logan ordered again and you opened your mouth with a smirk on your face, keeping eye contact with him the entire process. Once again, when his fingers touched your lips, you cupped them and sucked everything off them until you pulled away and made a little POP sound.

You hummed in pleasure again, the taste tickling all the taste buds on your tongue and you absolutely loved it. "That's my favorite food from now" Logan chuckled and watched your hand reaching for another roll and effortlessly put it into your mouth. You looked up at him, smiling as you chewed.

Suddenly, Logan stopped smiling, so did you. He slowly and gently grabbed your chin and used his thumb to wipe a bit of the sauce that was left on the corner of your mouth. He sucked the finger, grinning as your eyes were full of lust, anticipation and hungry.

"Fuck" he groaned before grabbing your jaw and kissing you. It was passionate and long kiss, just to test how you'd react, but you responded very positively. You kissed him again, wrapping your hands around his neck while tasting his thin lips. His hand slides around your body, stopping at your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze. You rose on tiptoes and moaned into his mouth, as he squeezed you again.

"You have no idea how long I've been craving for this" he growled between breaks in kissess and pounced on you mercilessly. The kisses were hungry, rough, and he even bit you from time to time, which only made you much more hornier. You could already feel the wetness in your panties during the kissing and your need for Logan was becoming unbearable.

Your fingers slipped into Logan's hair, finally feeling the softness of his hair. Sometimes you tugged them, as revenge for Logan squeezing your waist. After a long make out session, he lowered himself down, so that he could grab your legs and wrapped them around his pelvis. You giggled and gasped a little as you felt Logan's already hard cock trapped in his pants. It automatically excited you that much, that your wet core started pulsating.

Logan put you on top of the counter, messaging your thighs while still passionately kissing you. You were already whining silently, because of the incredible vibrating you felt between your legs. You instinctively started moving your hips against the flat surface, but you were literally longing for any friction.

Logans hands started exploring your body, squeezing some spots, since he couldn't control himself anymore. He stopped kissing you and moved his mouth to your neck and at the same time moving his hands underneath your, actually his, shirt. You petted and scratched Logan's head as he left purple bites on your neck.

His hungry bites forced you to throw your head back, leaving more space for Logan's teeth and tongue. Your whining started getting louder and you had to bite your lips to keep your voice quiet, but that didn't help much. "I wanna hear you darlin'" Logan grumbled and slid his finger under your panties. You instantly threw your head back and looked down, unfortunately didn't see his hand under your t-shirt, so his next moves were surprise for you.

He really did want to hear you, because without any warning, he quickly put the fabric to the side and started rubbing your wet folds. Your passion got the better of you and you couldn't keep quiet any longer. Your jaw fell open and your hips were keeping moving to the rhythm of Logan's fingers. He couldn't help himself and pulled away from your sore purple neck, looking into your pleasent face. Your voice and the way your body react to him sends countless hits to his twitching dick.

"You like that baby?" he devilishly smirked and inserted one finger in, making your breath catch in your throat. You had to drop your head and close your eyes to keep your senses, but Logan just made it harder for you. "Look at me" your nails were digging into Logan's hair, his finger twirling inside you in a rapid speed. "Look at me" Logan's voice was way more strict. He didn't relay on his voice anymore, so he grabbed your chin with his free hand and made you look up at him. "That's it...just like that" he bit his lips, seeing you like this is making him leaking with precum already.

Your eyes were keeping closing and opening. You were trying so hard to look at Logan but also wanting to enjoy the pleasure this man was now giving to you. If that wasn't enough, he added another finger, stretching your walls even more. You wanted to throw your head back so badly, but Logan wouldn't let you. He wanted to see your face when you'll come onto his fingers. He giggled as your moans started getting louder and your legs were shaking. He knew you were close, you both knew that.

But this guy was a complete monster, because as soon as your walls began to clench against his fingers, giving clear sign you are about to cum, he removed them. You gave him a confused and disappointed look while he just grinned devilishly and licked all the juice off his fingers. "You taste so fucking good" he mumbled and closed his eyes. "I need more" he got on his knees and chuckled slyly, watching you through his eyebrows.

The realization, what he's about to do, made your core pulsate even more frequently. You inhale deeply, tightly holding the edges of the counter to get ready for what's about to happen. He grabbed your panties by his teeth and elegantly take them off, revealing your wettness. His eyes widened a little and a devilish grin appeard on his face.

"Bet you taste better than sushi" you giggle and shake your head at his question, but that laugh of yours didn't last long. Your soft laugh transformed into a loud moan in one second, as Logan disappeared under your (his) shirt and you felt his hot tongue against your folds.

You finally had the freedom to throw your head back and give in to your body's natural response to Logan. You grabbed his head and gently scratched him, as he was softly licking you. Whenever his nose accidentally bumped into your sensitive clitoris, you tugged his hair and strongly bit your lips. Logan was attentive and therefore his "accidental" bumping into your clit started being more frequent.

You moan his name, tug his hair and tense your legs, whenever he made any interaction with your clit. But he also added his skilled tongue, which he subtly inserted into you. In that moment you drop your hat and shut your eyes, already aware that you won't last long. His tongue was twirling and curling inside you, moving up and down and tickling your walls. Your hips started ridding against his face, not beacuse you wanted to, but rather needed to.

Everything was connected, Logan's tongue makes you ride his face, while this made Logan groan against your pussy and that sends pleasent waves of pleasure right into your clit. His sideburns were tickling and prickling your delicate skin, which added even more adrenaline to your blood.

"Logan" you whine and moan his name, feeding his need to fuck you properly. His tongue picked up incredible speed and when he felt your walls clenching again, he added even more. He hold your thighs, to hold your body still in one place. It took a few more flicks with his tongue to make you shake, throw your head back and release all the tension you've been suppressing in yourself until now. You came all over Logan's face, before shame washed over you, as you came back to your senses.

You've had sex with men before, but none of them ate your pussy like Logan did. When his face found itself in your vision again, you started turning red as you noticed your juice remaining on his lips. "Don't be shy honey" he cupped your cheek and smiled. "You definitely taste better than sushi" You laugh and shake your head, the awkwardness disappearing when Logan said these things.

After that, he didn't even let you breath in and glued his lips to yours, making you taste yourself. He immediately wanted to fight with your tongue, so he gently squeezed your leg to make you moan, thus you improved his way into your mouth. Your tongues battled for dominance in which Logan was clearly winning. Your saliva and the remnants of your cum made a strange salty mix, that you both couldn't get enough of.

You wanted more, you wanted to see him in his full glory, so you grabbed the edges of his shirt and pulled it up. Logan helped you take it off and when he did, he didn't even give you a chance to get a good look at him, before starting to stuff his warm tongue inside your mouth again.

Still, you wanted to feel him somehow, that's why your hands explore his upper body, whining as you felt the muscles and sixpack, which unfortunatel, you couldn't see yet. Your fingers prints sends shivers down Logan's spine, breaking his last straw by that. His instincts began to prevail over his mind from now on.

You started being more excited and your pussy started throbbing over nothing again, when you heard a sound of unbuckling belt. It didn't take long before you heard the impact of not only the belt, but the fabric as well. You immediately realized that Logan had also taken off his pants as his erection began poking you into your inner thigh, dangerously close to your, once again, wet core.

"You're driving me crazy" he said between the pauses in the kiss and you couldn't properly answer, so you just moan softly. The feelings were from both siides, he was also driving you crazy. His disgustingly massive hands surrounded you almost entirely and his body was like a gigantic shield. You wanted nothing else, than to be fucked by this beast.

Although Logan is quite patient, your moaning and body language bothered him so much, that he decided to finally relieve you both and do what he had to do. He gently grabbed your hips, pulled out of the kiss and checked his way into you. Your heartbeat was racing and whole body shakes with impatience.

Suddenly, he looked at your face and without any warning, he started slowly pushing into you. Your jaw immediately dropped and your eyes tightly shut. The stretching was painfully pleasurable, finally feeding your hungry core. Your nails were digging deep into Logan's skin and you were worried about hurting him too much. However, you didn't know about his healing factor. The truth is that you should be the one who should be scared, because Logan's dick was nowhere near as small as the others.

"Good girl, breath for me" he was holding your body in place, while incredibly slowly pushing into you. If he could, he would've thrust himself aggressively into you a long time ago, but he didn't want to hurt you. He read from your face that it wasn't twice as pleasant, but it was just the beginning. The flow will be much better.

He was almost balls deep. You were hissing through your clenched teeth pretty loudly, trying hard to ignore the pain and focus on the pleasure. “Just like that princess…you're doing so good” he kept praising and supporting you to make you feel more comfortable and it worked. You felt your cheeks getting hotter and your breathing kept getting stuck in your throat.

Logan groaned intensely, when his balls finally touched your ass and he was fully inside you. It felt unreal. His dick was already touching your cervix. You knew you won't last long again. You stand no chance to ever last long with a man like Logan, it's just impossible.

"Good girl...my good girl" he put his forehead on yours, his hot breathing pleasantly shimmered on your nose. Before long, you got used to him and your natural reaction forced you to create some pressure. That's why you started moving your hips, giving Logan a clear sigh you are ready for him.

"Oh? Someone's eager huh?” he chuckled. You gave him a hungry eyes, full of lust. Logan therefore didn't wait for another signal and slowly moved his hips, as he squeezed your hips firmly. You were so tight around him, so wet, just absolutely perfect. You both felt incredible passion and heat coursing through your blood.

"God you're...fucking perfect" Logan cursed under his breath as his pace quickened and so did his pulse. The wet juicy sound began to surround the entire apartment. The atmosphere around you started to harden and the kitchen smell like sex. Your moans rhythmically mixed with Logan's grunts, creating a wonderful melody.

You hissed as Logan was hitting that perfect spot, deep inside you, that you could never reach on your own. You throw your head back, the sound of Logan's balls clapping against your soft ass only made you both more excited and eager to reach your climax.

"Yeah, just like that babygirl..." his voice was low as husky, his hands still firmly attached to your weist. He felt his cock twitch inside you while you felt your core tighten around him. Physics was no longer a burden for Logan, as he rammed into you with incredible speed and force, making your eyes rolled back. He quickly found your back and pressed you closer to his body, sniffing your honey scented hair.

"L-logan I..." you tried to warn him, to tell him that you are on the edge, but your mind was out of order to focus on words. "I know...I know" Logan dropped his head as he lost his control in his hips. From now on, he was just trying to catch up his orgasm.

Your lower belly started to rumble and you suddenly felt the outrageous urge to pee. You tensed up, every muscle in your body tensed until you relaxed and let it all out with a loud gasp. The relief was indescribable, but Logan hadn't reached his time yet.

When he felt and saw that you came all over his dick, he tried intensely to reach his climax. It only took a few hard merciless thrusts, before he pushed himself as deep as he could and growled loudly. He squirted into you, making you so full, that the white mixture was dripping from your core.

Logan moved his hips few more times to ride off the intense orgasm, before his forehead collapsed on yours. You both breathed heavily, trying to catch up your breaths and calmed your pulse down a bit. “You're amazing" he breathed out and you giggle, turning even more redder than you already were. He put a gentle kiss into your soft hair, giving you a great feeling of safety.

"You two..." you manage to let out two words, but all your energy was drained by saying that. Your legs were vibrating, evidence of a post-orgasm, feeding Logan's ego by showing him that he did an amazing job.

"C'mon baby, let's clean you up and then we'll enjoy that sushi" you laughed and nodded in agreement. Logan was still holding you, making sure you won't fall as you slowly jumped off the counter. Unfortunately, your legs were so weak that you couldn't keep your balance and Logan had to hold you really tight and really close to him.

However, you barely take a step forward, before you heard the door open. Logan quickly hid you behind him to cover you, thus sacrificing himself. After all, you had your shirt on, he was fully naked. You held tightly to his hands, which he held behind him as a support for you. Luckily, the counter was covering his most intimate part, so it wasn't that big of a sacrifice.

You froze in shock and waited to see who entered the apartment. "Oh Jesus Christ cover yourself! We indulge in this every Wednesday, remember?" you heard a man's voice, quite annoying, but you deduced from the sounds that he wasn't alone. "Is this how guests are greeted pookiebear? I didn't teach you that" you kept hearing the guy speak but your curiosity got the better of you.

You peeked a little, seeing a tall man with weird skin, but who was standing next to him shocked you more. "Vann?!" you couldn't hold back and shouted quite loudly. All attention was now on you. "Y/n?!" she surprisingly shouted back, her eyebrows rose and her jaw dropped. "Wait wait...there's a lot going on at once" that weird-skinned guy spoke again. You realized that he definitely loves talking and being the center of attention.

He ponited at Logan. "You had fun here with a random girl?" he moved his finger to Vanessa. "And you know that girl?" Vanessa nodded. "Yeah, she's my coworker" you awkwardly kept hiding behind Logan's back, which was so huge that it covered every part of your body except from your head.

You were all anxiously waiting to see what the guy would say. "Wait but you work at strip-club-" When he finally put the puzzle together, he gasped dramatically and turned to your direction. "SO YOU HAD FUN AT THAT CLUB AFTER ALL!" he excitedly shouted. "No that's not-" Logan tsk's and tried to explain himself, but it worthless, because that guy wouldn't let him talk. "You took it so far that you bring her here and fuck her in your own shirt?! WOW!"

"It's not like that-" Logan shook his head and you could tell from his tone, that he started getting furious. "Oh hell yeah it is! C'mon just admit it-" "Wade, stop it" Vanessa placed her hands on the chest of the guy, you just found out was the famous Wade Wilson. You imagined everything under his name, but definitely not this guy.

"Fine fine sorry...oh my god you guys had sushi! Have you shoved them up your ass-" Vanessa slapped Wade a little to finally shut him up and made him move forward, so that you and Logan would finally be alone. As she walked past you she quietly whispered "we'll talk about this" and went into one of the rooms with Wade.

Logan sighed in annoyance and dropped his head as he shook it. He turned to face you. "Look, I really don't want you to think I used you" he hold your hands but this time romantically. He gave you the cutest and most honest puppy eyes that a man ever gave you. "I...like you. I really do and I want to get to know you better and-" he didn't even finish his monologue, before you stood up on your toes, using all of your newfound strength to put into your feet. You kissed him, deeply, with love and with passion.

It was slow and soothing, so Logan reciprocated and you would have kissed longer, but you had to think about Wade and Vanessa. You also had to think of the cum dripping from your core and of Logan being completely naked. "Let's go" he smiled and nodded his head in the direction you were headed. Logan was the perfect man for you, he was mean and cruel to everyone while he had that sweet spot in his heart only for you.

You couldn't wait to spend much more time with him and get to know him much more deeply…

[johnbrand]

Loyal

With @mrrharper

I can not recall what started it really, there was just something off. Almost like a persistent tick within the back of my head, a missed alarm that somebody had forgotten to address from far away, and yet was still just barely registerable on my radar. It was like I was the only one that heard it, felt it, knew this tiny thing even existed. I was all alone.

When I had first come to college, I had no idea what to expect. The whole atmosphere had changed since the pandemic; competition was everywhere. I was no longer “smart enough” for the STEM kids, and yet I was not “passionate enough” to join any special interest groups. Everything had suddenly become a challenge to be the best, the greatest, but my background was not built for that type of drive. I began to assume college was only for my peers ready to commit everything to reaching the practically unattainable.

But Coach saw something different in me, he saw potential. He was the one who got me to stay. He was the only one who not only saw my tick when no one else had been able to, but explained it to me. He believed that the culture around education had become too individualistic, too single-minded. It was appropriate that I had suddenly felt inferior, unnoticed and left behind in the slaughter others had created. I needed to be a part of something greater, a team. His team.

At first, I had found Coach’s opinions beyond ludacris. Me? In sports? My body practically lacked everything necessary for a college athlete, unless it was in e-sports. I maintained my health fairly well, but I was toned and skinny, and practically too short for any serious competition. The only sport I could have seriously considered was swimming junior varsity–at a high school level. But soon I learned that Coach's opinion was law in his territory, from the locker room to the field.

Coach decided to tackle the standard issues right away, knowing that at the base of every great player is dedication. His questions opened up my formerly firm mindset and ideals, offering up new possibilities.

“Is it truly impossible for you to believe that I, an experienced professional, would not be able to help you discover a greater purpose as one of my players?”

“Wouldn’t you rather be a part of a team, a successful unit, rather than having to navigate the world on your own?”

“Do you really need to focus on other things outside of our work together? Are classes, friends, and family truly improving you like our time in the gym and on the field are?”

I did not realize it, but the more Coach questioned my morals, the more my mind began internalizing his. Coach believed that his players were all like the states in the mighty “US of A,” the greatest place on Earth. Separate, we had some power and identity, but nothing of significance. But together, as a part of a greater cause, we could become something much more impactful, more important, than our individual selves.

“If you become a part of my team, then wouldn’t it be more meaningful to be a player both in mind and body?”

“Perhaps your feelings of inadequacy aren’t stemmed from your lack of participation in college, but in general. Wouldn’t you feel more fulfilled if you followed a greater cause, like the traditional role of men in society?”

“Don’t you think what you are searching for is something to uphold? Maybe at large it is masculinity, but at a personal level supporting your teammates and likewise supporting me?”

Thanks to Coach’s help, I began to reprioritize my schedule, in turn reorganizing my life. With his approval, I was able to weed out some of the classes that were hindering my performance to become a better player, before I eventually stopped attending lectures all together. It was much easier to listen to Coach anyway, and he promised he would provide me with all the materials necessary in order to graduate. 

With my time freed up, I was better able to absorb Coach’s teachings at a rapid rate. My body quickly started to expand, packing on muscle in the weeks following faster than I thought was possible. It was as if every week I had to purchase new clothes, before eventually Coach began supplying me with past players’ hand-me-downs. My biceps and triceps became too large for any sleeve, my thighs would practically rip through every pants seam. It was not long before I was practically forced to endless sleeveless tanks and tight shorts. I even managed to gain height although I was past the prime of puberty, reaching an appropriate 6’3 for any linebacker.

That was what Coach said I was to become. Not any linebacker, his linebacker. When he first told me his plans, I had been shocked, but soon I began to instinctually follow his orders. Eventually, he stopped calling me by my name altogether; I had been reduced to “Linebacker #1!” in all his references.

Strangely enough, it was like my body responded to this new name accordingly. My boyish features almost vanished over the course of a day, leaving behind a wide jawline to support a much broader skull. My general hygiene fell backwards in priority, allowing for hair to cover my beefier frame and a manly mustache to crawl out onto my upper lip.

I had even begun to emit a sweat-induced, locker room musk wherever I went, although after a while I lost any embarrassment in it. In fact, I took some pride in my larger figure. I soon weighed over 230 pounds of pure girth, muscle, and mass that helped me pummel my opponents on the field. There was something so invigorating about being large and in charge…while still being under Coach’s orders.

“What if your purpose all along was to play football for glory and to preserve tradition? And was I not the one who helped you discover that purpose?”

“Why would you possibly want or need anything else from outside of the field? Aren’t you at your best when you are a part of my team, a piece of a larger puzzle?”

“Wasn’t the only thing you ever wanted all along was to be Coach's loyal football jock? A place where you can be your biggest, most masculine, most aggressive self without ever having to worry about anything else?”

By the time preparations for the next season began to roll around, I had stopped questioning Coach. I had realized that he was right, that he had been right all along and would remain as such. I was no longer considering his viewpoints, now merely just thanking him for them. I had begun coming to Coach for advice on any topic. Should I be worried about my dropping grades? Is it ok to get physical with nerds who insisted that the team was “a bunch of stupid pawns”? How could I be a better player for the team, his team?

And now, I was strutting around the conference room filled with reporters and many other beefy, aggressive jocks just like myself. I was feeling proud, cocky, arrogant even. Since joining his team, I had gained strength, girth, and attitude, all of which had earned me the title as the up-and-coming star collegiate linebacker. I did not need anything besides my masculinity, I did not need an identity outside of Coach’s team. I was simply his loyal football jock, and when I heard him call out for “Linebacker #1!” I immediately turned around. That was my name after all; whatever I was called had been long forgotten.

[zeroreasonstocare]

Trouble

A Five Part Sukuna Series

Part One: Some Dumb Project

Masterlist

Part Two (will update when posted!!)

Synopsis: You switched majors and meet this annoying guy in your new history class, now you have to work on a project with him. Not only that, he goes to the place you work at! Ugh, how annoying, hopefully he won’t cause any trouble…

〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎ ♛ 〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎

Sukuna is nothing but trouble. Everyone knows that. All your life, you’ve attracted nothing but trouble. Whether it’s a traffic jam, your coffee being too cold or spilling all over you, or somehow locking yourself out of your apartment, you just can’t help but find trouble.

Like right now.

You’re late. To your first class of your new major. It’s not like you slept in late or anything, your door jammed, meaning you had to bust yourself out of your own apartment. Talk about annoying! Luckily, the professor hasn’t entered class, so when you walk into the lecture hall, you get up to a row with good acoustics and sit next to a boy with pink hair. He smiles at you and taps your shoulder.

“Hey! I’m Yuji Itadori! Are you new? I haven’t seen you here before, and most of these people are familiar faces.”

“Yeah, I switched majors over break. Nice to meet you, Itadori.”

“Hey, who’s the person in my seat, brat?”

You think you have double vision when you see Itadori twice, but this second one has tattoos on his face.

“Um, there aren’t assigned seats.”

“You’re one of those people, aren’t you?” He huffs with his gruff voice, a frown permanently etched into his face. He’s like a polar opposite of Yuji.

“Sukuna, just sit on the other side of me, it’s not that big a deal.” Yuji rolls his eyes.

“Maybe not to you, idiot.”

“Um, who are you?” You tilt your head.

“I’m this brat’s twin brother, isn’t that obvious? Now get out of my spot.”

“Still not your spot.”

“I will carve my name into the desk. Then will you move?”

“Isn’t that vandalism?”

“Even better.”

You scoff into a small laugh and look at Yuji with a “can you believe this guy?” look. You still refuse to switch seats as the professor enters.

“Alright, take your seats, class has started.” He says in a bored tone.

Sukuna scoffs at you and sits on the other side of Yuji, glaring at you the entire time. He can already tell you’re going to annoy him. Especially with your stupid attitude, your dumb clothes that fit you so well, your stupid good looks, your annoyingly attractive body… He needs to not stare. He shakes the thought away as the professor talks about some dumb project he could care less about.

“You all are going to be assigned a group of three people, so just look at the person next to you and on the other side, that’s basically your group, just for simplicity.” The professor looks up and starts writing groups down. “Mkay, so the Itadoris anddd… got it.”

Sukuna almost audibly groans with his eye roll, now he’s stuck with you? What a pain… The end of class couldn’t come sooner. He glares at you as he leaves, grabbing his pack of cigarettes and smoking in the bathrooms. You look at Yuji in confusion.

“That’s your twin brother?”

“Yeah, I think he was dropped.”

You laugh at him and shake your head, he’s definitely funnier than his moody counterpart. You head to your next class after exchanging numbers. The rest of the school day goes on like normal. Luckily, you don’t have any other classes with Yuji’s brother, but you do share a math class with Yuji, which is fun. You leave to work, a cafe run by a tired old man, but he’s a nice guy. You get there early somehow, changing into your work clothes and heading to the front to take orders.

You didn’t think the day would be worse, but who else enters the cafe but that annoying tattooed guy? Oh, and Yuji, but he’s not the issue here. There’s a third guy too, he doesn’t look much like them.

“Hey, customers are here, stop staring and take their orders, please.” Nanami tells you.

“Right, sorry.” You mumble and take their orders, Sukuna purposely picking something difficult. Yuji smiles at you and sits at their normal spot.

“This history project makes no sense, we haven’t even been taught this thing and he’s assigning us a project! Can you believe this, Choso?” Yuji groans and sips his drink when you set it in front of him.

“It’s like a research project, and we need to sort out who's doing what.” You say and hand who Yuji called “Choso” his black coffee. You set down the difficult order Sukuna made and he examines it.

“Hmm…”

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure it was made correctly.”

“I didn’t poison it, dude, it has everything you asked for.”

“Hmmmmm…” Your eye twitches.

“You’re not getting a refund, Sukuna, she made it exactly like you asked, you’re such a pain in the ass.” Yuji rolls his eyes and looks at you. “Just ignore him. We need to plan the project anyways. Sukuna isn’t going to do anything, I already know that.”

Sukuna, who doesn’t deny it, opens a bunch of straws, rips small parts of the wrapping paper, balls them up, and throws them across the table. One hits Yuji, one lands onto the floor, one lands in Choso’s coffee, and one hits you while another lands in your hair. Choso glares at his younger brother and rolls his eyes, moving the ball out of his coffee before taking a sip.

“Every day, I wonder how I am even related to you.” Choso mumbles.

“Oh, you say that about me but not the idiot next to you?”

“At least Yuji isn’t a literal menace like you.”

“Can we please focus on the project?” Yuji sighs.

“Whatever.” Sukuna grumbles and keeps tossing trash around.

“I’ll research the start half if you research the end half.” Yuji says to you.

“Mkay, I can also make the presentation.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Sukuna asks.

“Don’t act like you plan to help, idiot! The school already caught you for vandalizing the bathroom stalls! You’re gonna be busy cleaning all that up before you can even work on the project, and I know you’ll take your sweet ass time cleaning everything up!” Yuji argues with Sukuna.

“Really? First day back and you’re already in trouble?” You tilt your head.

“Don’t act so surprised, everyone knows he’s trouble.” Choso says pointedly.

“Oh, I guess you’ve never met him before today, huh? He gets in trouble quite a lot.” Yuji grins. “Anyways, we should let you get back to work, so have fun!”

Yuji leaves a tip for you and you start cleaning the table, not seeing the way Sukuna’s gaze lingers when you bend to pick up the trash from the ground. You hit your head standing back up and swear you can hear someone snicker.

You drive home, though leaving the parking lot of the cafe takes you almost an hour since your key wouldn’t work. When you get to your apartment, you enter through the front door and cook yourself a simple dinner. You count your tips and see a piece of paper you didn’t notice before.

“Don’t sit there tomorrow or I’ll key your car.”

Wonder who that could be from.

The next day, you head to class, getting there early, and Sukuna is already in “his seat”, giving you a glare as his eyes trail down your body. He really can’t stand you, he decides again. Your outfit today sits a little too perfect, being just tight enough that if someone was looking hard enough (which Sukuna was), they could see the outline of your bra.

You chew on the end of your pencil, a bad habit you’re yet to break, and Yuji shares the research doc to you. You split the work between the two of you and Sukuna just sits in the doc typing the same three phrases over and over.

“Stop that.” Yuji smacks his brother’s arm.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re typing ‘death and destruction’ as if you’re manifesting it, stop.”

“I’m not just typing that…”

“Don’t get me started on ‘the despair is endless’ and ‘this class shouldn’t exist’. What are you, twelve?”

“I’m twenty-one, like you, dumbass!”

“I’m not the dumbass writing edgy shit on the doc!”

“Oh my god, you two, just let him type his edgy shit and continue researching.” You groan.

Yuji huffs in frustration and continues his research while you check the doc to see what Sukuna is doing. There are fire emojis in the middle of your typing, the words “you work tn?” near the bottom of the page. You sigh and humor him, talking through the document.

“No, why?”

“So I don’t get to throw trash at you later?”

“Nope.”

“How sad.”

You look at him and he has a smirk. You roll your eyes and leave when class is over, tripping over your own feet. He laughs at your misfortune and grunts when Yuji smacks him in the head.

“What was that for?!”

“Don’t go flirting with her, she’s a nice girl who doesn’t need someone like you to fuck up her happiness.”

“I’m not flirting with her!”

“I saw the fucking doc, dipshit. You’re not slick.”

“I was asking if she’d be around for me to torment.”

“You and I both know what your intentions were.”

The tattooed twin grunts and walks off, lighting a cigarette and tripping some nerd who apologizes for being in his way. He wasn’t flirting. He can’t stand you, he tells himself. He can’t stand your quick remarks to his words, can’t stand your stupid doe eyes, the way they squint when you’re focused on typing after the third typo in a row, can’t stand the way you purse your lips and the slight smile on your face when he and Yuji are arguing, definitely not wondering what it’d be like to feel them against his own. Because he wasn’t flirting. Yuji doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

Sukuna smokes and half-ass scrubs the stall he vandalized yesterday. His thoughts are not focused on you, your stupid face, or your dumb words. Totally not. He wasn’t flirting, he reassures himself again. He’s not interested in you. Even if he was, he wouldn’t admit that. You’re just some girl in his class. Not important at all.

He’s late to the cafe and Yuji is fixing the mistakes in the research document. Choso sips his usual black coffee and scrolls on his phone.

“You’re late.” The elder brother points out.

“Had to clean the bathrooms.”

“I see. Your barista friend isn’t here.”

“She’s not my ‘friend’, Choso.”

“She’s Yuji’s friend.”

“Doesn’t make her mine by default, she can have the brat.”

“Says Mister Flirts With Her.” Yuji grins.

“I wasn’t flirting dammit!”

“Why are you getting so defensive, huh?”

“I am not! You’re just a pain in my ass and annoying the hell out of me!”

“Stop screaming, Nanamin will kick us out!” Yuji frowns.

“I still don’t get how you’re so buddy-buddy with the old man.” Choso mumbles.

“He’s pretty cool. Kind of mean, but he makes delicious bread.”

“Literally how the hell are you even aware of that?” Sukuna scoffs.

“Unlike you, I actually talk to people, and get along with them!”

“Whatever…” He scoffs.

Sukuna seems bored. He taps the table to a catchy tune and just waits until it’s time for him to go home. He watches a few groups walk into the cafe and at Yuji working diligently on his laptop.

“At least she does her work. I’d hate to do this project alone.” Yuji says to no one in particular.

“Do you do anything else besides complain?”

“Shut the fuck up, Sukuna. Let me think out loud. And you complain more than I do.”

“Liar.”

“How the hell is that a lie?”

Choso chuckles at his younger brothers. “Sukuna, you do have a streak for complaining more than Yuji.”

“Oh, dare I bring you into this, Choso?”

“You’re right; withdrawn.”

“Let’s just go home already.”

“Yeah, fine.” Yuji frowns and shuts his laptop.

When they get home, Sukuna feels a buzz in his pocket. He checks his phone. There is a text from Gojo, the university’s pretty boy.

Party at my place next Thursday.

This should be fun.

Taglist: @jinxiewritings @midnight-138 @sukioyakio @toffeebrat @hypothetical-hypocritical

@sh0ot1ngst4r @tojideckmuncher @sterzin @theirlgarfield @mikari73

@watyousayin @cherriee-ee @kyojurokoibito @xwhatiams @notsocherries

@ohohcandy @aruraa @samaraxmorgan (Comment or ask and I’ll add you!!)

[stemms]

I believe that c!Tommy’s kleptomania is one of the most fascinating and heartbreaking parts of his personality, as it adds layers to his character, and explains certain parts of the lore that some people seem to consider a simple bad habit and display of his childishness. I would like to elaborate on that further and explore the way it changed in the exile arc.

To begin with, c!Tommy has been suffering from kleptomania ever since s1, but contrary to popular belief, he had no malicious intentions. From the very beginning of the server, he was already severely traumatised to the point of having PTSD and lacked self-worth. So, understandably enough, he was craving something to make up for his self-hatred, and robbery became that thing. c!Tommy would mostly steal insignificant things because what truly mattered was the amount of things he possessed, not their value or rarity. After all, if he had a large number of objects in his possession, it meant that he was worthy, and nothing else truly mattered.

Since the very beginning of exile, despite his need to acquire items to stabilise his extreme self-hatred, c!Tommy adamantly refused to accept anything from his visitors because he couldn’t help but assume that the gifts in question were “pity items”, and being pitied was one of the things he hated the most. As his exile went on, the belief that no one cared enough to offer him a gift out of genuine care, only grew stronger due to c!Dream’s manipulation, c!Tommy’s severe loneliness, and the heartbreak of the Beach Party. However, with time, the blond has grown to trust someone other than c!Dream — c!Ranboo. Eventually, he allowed the enderman hybrid to offer him things, as long as he promised that his gifts came from the heart. As much as c!Tommy attempted to hide his true feelings, he cherished every single object received from c!Ranboo. These weren’t just objects, like the ones he’d often steal from people to feel worthy — these served as a reminder that there was something to live for, and at least, someone other than c!Dream genuinely cared about him.

Considering that c!Dream has been obsessed with c!Tommy ever since s1 (which included living in his walls and stalking him) and used his kleptomania and “destructive nature” as an argument to get him exiled from L’Manberg, he certainly was aware of the boy’s insecurity, and was looking forward to exploiting it to the fullest to break- no, shatter him :)

The daily routine of discarding his objects hurt c!Tommy far more than we could’ve imagined, because if we keep his deep self-hatred in mind, he didn’t simply find it upsetting due to being stuck in the cycle of obtaining and destroying his items — it was something more than that. Every lost item equaled a tiny shard of c!Tommy’s self-worth, and soon enough, there was almost Nothing left; he was nothing but an empty shell.

Understandably enough, with time, the teenager has grown to believe that he wasn’t worthy to possess anything valuable of his own — he was meant to earn every little thing, and his best friend tormentor couldn’t be more pleased :) :) :)

[occamstfs]

Viral Transformation Stories

Here are the pieces written thus far! Terrific stories by equally terrific authors, (Displayed in alphabetical order and to be updated as the other pieces are posted!)

Though every piece is not for every taste; Every one of these stories is an excellent showcase of the talents and tastes of their authors as well as being excellent explorations of my prompt!

HairyJockTf - A Full Dose of Country

All-Star wrestler Cody finds himself enjoying the work of a ranch hand altogether too much after receiving an accidental dose of a bovine vaccine. (Ranchhand TF)

YellowJesterTfs - Agents of Change

Whitman stands guard at the entrance to The Oval Office, never could he expect the horror that approaches in the form of a flawless figure. One surrounded by equally perfect men, men who want nothing more than to spread their perfection as far as they can. (Assimilation TF, MG and MC)

Warping-Realities - Beautiful Things

CW: Corruption- Exchange student Alois keeps hearing a regressive vaguely religious pop song. When his friends begin dropping like flies to be fans of Benson Boone it may be only a matter of time before he counts himself among them, moustasche muscles and all. (Corruption, MG CW: Lib to Con Mental Change)

Eilorow - Gym Selfie - Working Together

Livid with his study partner, Jacob waits for any explanation from the man. After receiving a steamy selfie he finds himself rapidly losing interest in their assignment as well (Jockification)

AlphaJockLover - InstaJock: Going Viral

First person exploration of a man eager to explore the all too alluring world within the InstaJock App. Finally able to poke around himself without succumbing to transformation, he finds a ringleader lurking at the center of all these sinister changes. (Jockification)

MuscleJedi-Tameem - Millbrook University

Doting boyfriends, Jonny and Keegan, prefer to spend their time on pursuits of the mind. After accidentally contaminating themselves they are overcome by new passions and new power. (Himbofication)

MiscTf - Singing a New Tune

Jared is less than pleased about attending the concert of his girlfriend's favorite pop diva. As she gives a performance almost directly to his soul the jock finds more than his music tastes are beginning to change. (Straight to Gay Twink TF)

CaptainMaleWriter - XY

In the small town of [redacted] there's a viral outbreak causing dormant genes and repressed urges to force their way to the forefront. Gym goers find themselves as people anew as their changes begin and the need to spread their condition stirs. (Various, TFs incl. RC and MG)

OccamsTfs - Start-Up

(Non-competing) Gabriel hates the start-up he works for. Though this morning it seems there are more immediate things he should be concerned with as men something strange begins to change men around the world.

Coming Soon:

YourNewBody - Handbook For The Recently Infected

Sanzaibian - That Day When None Cared

Just-A-Jock - Untitled

Brains4Brawn -Going Viral

Link to my usual Masterpost !

Mind, any reblogs will hold the post in its current state. Though likes will carry over any and all edits I make when more writers post!

Barring any complications I should have the poll up on Sunday the 29th to be open for the following week!

(If writers would like edits to be made to their descriptions shoot me a DM!)

[descendant-of-truth]

That said, I do think that Shadow Generations being such a more carefully cultivated exploration of Shadow's past compared to what the original Generations was for Sonic is... not doing Sonic himself any favors

General audiences are already kind of under the impression that Sonic as a character is fundamentally not that deep or interesting, and Generations was written during a time that really, really wanted to prove that notion right. Sonic "being deep" was what, seemingly, caused so much critical backlash, so to counteract that, they gave us the blandest cutscenes Sonic has ever had the displeasure of being in.

But that's not really what Sega is trying to push for, now. Frontiers wanted to be more serious, with a mature, down-to-earth Sonic. The movies gave him an origin story that inherently makes him a lot more complicated than usual. Prime put the focus on his emotions and gave him a character arc that lasted the whole show. The IDW comics can get extremely serious, and we're treated to Sonic's inner monologue as he wrestles with difficult choices. They clearly want Sonic as a character to be interesting to people, not just a vehicle for action and quips.

But putting the old Sonic Generations in the same package as the new Shadow Generations is inherently portraying them as equivalent experiences. When Sonic explores his past, it's no big deal - just another day on the hero job! Absolutely nothing worth exploring on his end when it comes to meeting his past self and revisiting his memories! Nope! No need to use time travel as a way to explore his core values as a person who prefers to live in the moment and not be bound by his past, no siree!

Oh, but Shadow? Now that's the actually interesting character! Revisiting Shadow's past is such an exciting event that it requires the whole year to hype up, and Sonic's just so boring in comparison, isn't he? Who really cares about Sonic beyond his surface-level characteristics anyway, right? The Sonic Generations remaster is more of an accessory to what's essentially Shadow the Hedgehog 2 at this point, and that bothers me.

Sure, Sonic doesn't have "a backstory" like Shadow does. But the past that we explore in Sonic Generations isn't his literal origins, but all the adventures we went on with him. Imagine how much depth you could wring out of him if you just took those events as being legitimate parts of his life that he has feelings on! Feelings we could explore!

But because it's a remaster instead of a full-blown remake, all of this effort they're putting into Shadow's campaign is nowhere to be seen in Sonic's. Can you imagine how good of a package deal this would be if Sonic's character was given this much care and respect, too? Like, we have two Sonics, but Shadow is getting more than double the favoritism.

And the fact that this is only going to continue to push the idea that Sonic is just. incapable of being interesting, or even really affected by what happens around him is really frustrating. We already have the movies and Prime drastically changing his demeanor and core traits for the sake of making him "able" to have character development, and as much as I love those versions as characters, it's really doing a disservice to who Sonic is supposed to be.

The last thing we need is for Generations to come out again and make the Sonic from the games seem like the least interesting version of him. Bringing Shadow up should not involve dragging Sonic down - they're supposed to be equals. But this game doesn't seem to be showcasing that very well, on account of essentially being two games written by different people haphazardly mashed together.

People being introduced to the series through this game are going to have such a skewed perception of what Sonic is like as a person, as well as what he's like compared to Shadow, and that just. makes me kinda upset not gonna lie

[meazalykov]

nationality switch

esmee brugts x uswnt!dutch!reader

summary: choosing a national team almost made you drift away from the person you love most

warnings: angst

it’s been a long time since you’ve seen esmee, since that fight—since everything changed. 

you’re sitting in the corner of a cozy café in barcelona, sipping your iced coffee, lost in your thoughts about how things used to be. the only noise around you is the coffee machines brewing or the ovens beeping in the background of your thoughts.

you never expected to see her today. you thought she moved to arsenal in london. a club that she mentioned her interest in. but then again, nothing with esmee ever goes as planned.

the bell above the café door chimes, and you look over at the door on instinct. when you see her, your stomach flips. is that her? you had to do a double take.

it is esmee. her eyes lock on yours instantly, and for a second, it’s like no time has passed. the familiarity, the memories, all come rushing back. you miss her, but the weight of your last conversation—the fight—hangs heavily between you both.

you don’t move. you don’t know if you should, and maybe she doesn’t either, because she hesitates before walking over. you freeze before you see her stop at the counter.

you took a deep breath before she gets her flat white and walks over.

when she finally reaches your table, you see that same spark in her eyes, but there’s something else now. something different.

“hey,” she says, her voice soft, almost tentative, as if she’s afraid of how you’ll respond.

you raise an eyebrow, trying to keep things light. 

“esmee, how did you even find me?”

she offers a small smile, a little suspicious. 

“we never turned off each other’s locations on our phones.”

that breaks the tension for a moment, and you can’t help but laugh. 

it’s such a typical esmee thing to say. well for you, as someone who is the closest to her. she never fails to make a heavy moment become lighter. you shake your head at the absurdity of it all. 

“of course.”

she sits down across from you at the wooden table, and suddenly, the reality of everything hits. you’re both here in barcelona. after all this time, all the distance, somehow, fate—or maybe something else—has pulled you back together. 

it feels like you’re supposed to be here, like you were always meant to end up on the same team again. it hasn't been too long since you were both at psv. your contracts ended at the same time and you had a bad feeling that it would've been your last time together.

it wasn't.

“so…” esmee starts, her fingers fiddling with the edge of the napkin in front of her. “i heard the news.”

you nod slowly. “yeah. barca. i guess it was inevitable, huh?”

“inevitable,” she echoes, her gaze dropping to the table before lifting back to meet yours. 

“we were always supposed to end up here together, it was our dream.”

the silence stretches between you both, and it’s not uncomfortable, but it’s heavy. there’s so much unsaid, and you know it. she knows it. 

the past months have been complicated. after the women’s world cup, after that game against the netherlands where you scored that header, after you told her that you weren't going to represent the netherlands on the senior level, things between you two were…different.

“you were mad,” you say softly, cutting through the silence.

her eyes darken slightly, and she nods, not bothering to deny it. “yeah, i was.”

“because I celebrated my goal?”

“because it felt like you were celebrating more than just a goal,” she admits. 

“it felt like you were celebrating the fact that you chose them over us. over me.”

throwback to july 26th, 2023

it’s the 62nd minute, and the game between the u.s and the netherlands is 0-1. the tension is suffocating—this isn’t just any group stage match. 

it’s a battle between two teams who were in the finals of the last world cup. the netherlands want revenge.

for you, it’s personal. you are dutch and american. your mother was born and raised in eindhoven, while your dad is an american who studied there then met your mother.

while growing up, you considered yourself to be dutch. you never lived in the united states. however, you've wondered what it was like to live over there.

at the age of 8 you met your bestfriend, esmee, at a soccer club. the both of you grew up, joined psv together, and played for the dutch youth teams together.

when your father expressed how he wanted you to chose the uswnt when you reached the senior level, you didn't count him out. the team was the best in the world.

the 2019 world cup solidified your decision to represent your father's side of the family. however, sometimes you think about the other world where you chose the dutch team instead of the americans.

you jog back to your position for a corner kick being taken by rose lavelle, feeling the weight of the moment settle on your shoulders. 

your heart pounds in your chest, and as you glance toward the dutch goal, your eyes flicker briefly to the orange clad figure on the left. esmee. 

she’s looks at you briefly, her expression unreadable. for a split second, it’s like time slows down. you remember the late nights practicing at psv, the laughter, the way she used to tell you that you’d both dominate the world together one day.

now, you’re on opposing sides, thanks to you choosing your other nationality.

the whistle blows. you snap back to the present, focusing on the corner being taken. 

the ball soars through the air, heading toward the front post. you leap, eyes locked on the ball, and your timing is perfect. you rise above the defenders, connecting with the ball in a powerful header that rockets past the dutch goalkeeper.

goal!

for a moment, the world stops. then the noise of the crowd hits you like a wave, and you’re running, arms outstretched in celebration. your teammates swarm around you, shouting, grabbing your jersey, jumping on your back. 

you can hear julie yelling for you and lindsey clapping you on the back with a proud grin. it’s chaos—pure joy, adrenaline, and pride.

but as you slow down, turning back toward midfield, your eyes find esmee again. 

she’s standing there, watching, her expression unreadable at first. in the moment that you look away before turning back, you see it: the hurt. the disbelief. you know it’s not just about the goal. it’s about everything else.

you swallow the lump forming in your throat and try to focus on your teammates still celebrating around you, but esmee’s look is burned into your mind. 

she goes back on the left-back then stands, her hands clenched into fists by her sides, it looks as if she’s frozen. you see her teammates—players you grew up with on youth teams—pat her on the back, but it’s clear she’s not hearing them.

it’s the celebration that did it. you know it. the way you threw your fists in the air, the way you smiled at your teammates like this goal was everything. 

to esmee, it wasn’t just a goal against the netherlands. it was a statement, a reminder that you chose the united states over the netherlands, over her.

as the game resumes, you push the thought to the back of your mind. you have to stay focused. there’s still time left, and the dutch team isn’t going to back down easily. but every time you glance in esmee’s direction, it stings. 

you see the frustration in her movements, the way she presses forward with even more intensity than before. she’s angry—at you, at the situation—and it shows.

the game ends and its tied. the rest of her team is exhausted, but she doesn’t even wait for the usual post-match handshakes and shirt swaps. she walks straight down the tunnel, disappearing from view, and a pit forms in your stomach.

you want to go after her, explain that the celebration wasn’t meant to hurt her. but deep down, you know this moment has been building for a long time. 

the decision to play for the united states on the senior level, the arguments, the silence between you two—it’s all led to this. 

in the locker room, your teammates are quiet, they’re focused on the next match. 

your thoughts are stuck on esmee. you stare down at your phone, wondering if you should text her, try to explain. but what could you say? what could make this better?

back to the barcelona cafe, a month later

you blink, taken aback by the raw honesty in her words. 

you’ve had months to think about it—about what it meant when you chose to play for the uswnt, about how your dad had always pushed you to follow in his footsteps. but you didn’t think esmee would take it this personally.

“esmee, it wasn’t about that,” you say, voice soft, almost pleading.

“you know it wasn’t like that.”

it was your first goal for the national team. it happened to be against your other country, the other country that wanted you to play for them too. 

your mother is dutch, and your father is american– so you had a tough decision to make.

esmee shakes her head, and for a moment, you think she’s going to argue. but then she sighs, leaning back in her chair. 

“i know. but it hurt. i wanted you to play with me and for the oranje. i wanted us to play together, like we always did in eindhoven. and then, when you celebrated after that goal…it felt like you’d forgotten everything we’d had.”

“i didn’t forget. i could never forget,” you say, and it’s the truth. you haven’t forgotten a single moment. 

“but esmee, you know how much my dad wanted this for me.” 

“i know,” she whispers, and there’s pain in her voice. 

“but i wanted you to want the same things i did. i wanted you to choose me.”

her words hit you hard, and for a second, you can’t respond. this is about more than just football, more than just a decision you had to make when choosing a national team. 

it’s about the two of you—about what you’ve meant to each other all these years.

“esmee,” you start, leaning forward, trying to make her understand. “it wasn’t about choosing them over you. you mean everything to me. i-i didn’t even realize—”

“that’s the thing,” she interrupts, her voice trembling slightly. 

“i was upset because i always want to be around you. it was selfish, maybe, but it’s the truth. i thought…i thought i was going to lose you when you chose them. what if you didn’t choose to come to barcelona? what if i didn’t? we wouldn’t see each other anymore..”

you frown, confused. “esmee, you’re never going to lose me. what are you talking about?”

she bites her lip, her eyes searching yours, and suddenly, it’s like all the walls she’s built up come crashing down. her hands stop gripping on her coffe cup and goes to gently hold your right hand instead. 

you froze.

“i’m talking about how i feel about you,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. 

you feel your heart skip a beat, and for some reason, her confession doesn’t surprise you. 

it’s like you always knew, like a part of you had been waiting for her to say it out loud. she’s been your best friend for years, but deep down, maybe you always knew there was something more.

the left-back never made her crush on you a hidden secret. she was never outright, but her actions towards you spoke for itself. 

“es…” you start, but you don’t know what to say. so instead, you reach across the table, gently taking your other hand and holding hers.

she looks at you, her eyes wide and vulnerable, like she’s terrified of what you’ll say next.

“i like you too,” you say softly, your thumb brushing over the back of her hand. 

“i think i always have.”

her eyes widen even more, but there’s a soft smile playing on her lips now. 

“really?”

you nod, giving her a small smile in return. “yeah. really.”

you stand up slowly, moving around the table, and she doesn’t pull away when you lean down and press a soft kiss to her forehead. 

it feels right and natural, like something you should’ve done a long time ago. you wanted to, but you didn't know how she felt about you then.

nobody was present in the cafe instead of the barista who was too focused on making drinks, so you didn’t feel embarrassed to kiss her.

when you pull back, esmee smiling up at you, and for the first time in months, you feel like things between you two might finally be okay.

“so…barcelona, huh?” you say, trying to lighten the mood.

esmee laughs, that familiar sound you’ve missed so much. “yeah. looks like we’re stuck together again.”

you grin, squeezing her hand gently. “good. i wouldn’t want it any other way.”

my masterlist is here if you want to read more!

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Seven: Ending Anew

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader|

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Thank you for your patience and understanding with the uploads. I've been working six days a week and have only one day to myself where I can do basic necessities like wash clothes and clean. My bedroom has certainly paid for it and so has my hobbies. (Or lack there of) I hope y'all enjoy this seeing young adult Aemond and reader! (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

Chapter Warnings: sexual harassment, dubious consent, bastardphobia, implied mental illness, lots of sexism.

The distinction between those we love and those we hate can be subtle. Both emotions are directed towards an individual based on their inherent qualities. Despite this commonality, they are often perceived as opposites. Loving someone entails wanting them to thrive while hating someone involves wishing for their suffering or transformation. However, love and hate can coexist despite their seemingly contradictory nature.

Six years ago, you experienced deep affection for an individual during your youth, believing that their sun-kissed hands epitomized kindness. However, after enduring years of distress, you discovered the unexpected capability to harbor animosity towards this once beloved person. This realization perplexed you as you contemplated whether he endured similar inner turmoil.

You hated Uncle Aemond for hurting your brothers the night at Driftmark many years ago and for not responding to your countless ravens who sought to apologize and keep broken promises. But because of the love that never ceased beating in your heart, you continued to create reasons for yourself to loathe him. Despite realizing your uncle would never respond, you still sent him letters with the blind hope that someday you would have one addressed from King’s Landing, though if one ever did come, they were from Queen Alicent, and in which you promptly fed them to the fish-eyed billy goats on Dragonstone.

The contents were of anything and everything you could think of. Sometimes, you retold important events like leaving to study at the Citadel and becoming a lady of Queen Esabella of Dorne as a temporary peace bargain for what happened in the Stepstones. Other times, it was your interests, such as a new plant or a medical technique, that you learned and thought would help him with his… ailment. 

Though you heard nothing from Aemond, that did not mean you knew nothing about him. You heard rumors that he took to putting a sapphire in his empty eye socket, and while the idea was sure to inspire fear in the hearts of many, it fascinated you, wondering if the gem was smooth and round or jagged and sharp, much like your uncle’s personality. It seemed like him to fashion something such as that as he was always a bit odd, though you never minded it. You imagined the discomfort his wound might cause despite it becoming scarred. From what you understood about those with similar injuries, the person could feel the severed nerves and tissue healing themselves, the sensation like a thousand hot needles in the skin.

It was no wonder why he was gossiped to have such a cold demeanor. You hoped one day you would be allowed to see it yourself, even if you were on the receiving end. 

Some of you worried that Aemond never received your letters, thinking you abandoned him and all the promises made in secrecy. Queen Alicent wouldn’t be the one to bar them from him as she most desperately wanted you to visit the Red Keep and mend the bond broken on the night at Driftmark. You didn’t understand why it had to be you to be the one to do so. These were matters created by the ruling adults in your life, and they should have sought to fix them.

Nevertheless, neither you, your parents, nor Queen Alicent tried to mend what occurred between the family. Still, that lack of effort did not extend to your relationship with your uncle. You still wanted to fly with him as you promised some years ago.

“The Conqueror and his sisters sailed with a great army,” Jacaerys translated from High Valyrian, his words proud but still holding a certain waver to his voice now that you weren’t there to assist him.

You stood by one of the tall metal-paned windows in the Chamber of the Painted Table in Dragonstone, the ancient seat of your family, silently mouthing the words of your ancestors’ histories spoken by the Maester in your mother tongue. 

The thick, gray clouds outside cast a dull light into the room, creating a somber yet peaceful atmosphere. You and your brother understood that your imposing maternal presence made him nervous and hindered his concentration. Over the years, you developed the habit of speaking over Jace during your studies. 

This hadn’t gone unnoticed, leading to reprimands from Maester Gerardys and your mother for not giving your twin a fair chance to learn. You only wished for Jace to be the best version of himself he could be. He was to be your King when Mother passed.

“Se Blākuata Rāsho drāñot vilinio viartis,” (And made landfall at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush) Maester Gerardys conveyed, his words slowed and accent thick to convey their meaning. 

The resounding echo of the chamber doors opening filled the air with the unmistakable clang of metal. As they parted, a graceful figure emerged—your mother, adorned in a flowing, vibrant red dress that complemented her regal presence. She moved with a poised and graceful stride, her hand tenderly skimming over her gently swelling belly, radiating an undeniable sense of maternal warmth and affection. Catching your gaze, you offered her a tender smile, and in response, she bestowed upon you a fleeting yet soft expression that spoke volumes of her boundless love without the need for words.

“Drāñot,” your mother asked Jace to repeat, but he stared at her wide-eyed, the words slipping from his mind.

Meeting your mother’s strides to greet her, you answered for him with a bright and eager-to-please smile. “The mouth.”

She flashed a tight-lipped grin and scrunched her nose, lightly nodding as Jace slouched in self-directed disappointment. “Mouth! I knew that, sister. You needn’t answer for me,” he expressed with disappointment, stomping his foot on the ground.

“If you keep speaking for your brother, he will never learn,” your mother lightheartedly scolded as she kissed the top of your head. You have heard those words for the past six years.

If Jace knew the answers, you wouldn’t have to help him, you thought reproachfully. 

You did not rush to pay attention to your twin as you knelt beside your younger brothers Aegon, Viserys, and Joffrey. Instead, you focused on the youngest, Viserys. With great tenderness, you gathered him into your lap, the book Elinda brought for them cradled in your hands. 

Leaning in close to your half-brother, you whispered. “I will teach you our mother tongue once you learn to speak,” as you lovingly smoothed the silky strands of his blonde hair.

“Drāñot. Drāñot,” your brother repeated, as if the meaning of Maester Gerardys’ words would magically appear in his mind.

“And made landing at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush,” you whispered under your breath so no one would hear, answering for him. 

You and Jace were the same age, two bodies with one soul, yet different. You could have helped him more if Mother had not sent you away. You never understood why she separated you instead of betrothing you to Jace. She constantly danced around the notion of marrying for years, which was incomprehensible, seeing as the match was the only option that would make sense. You would rule together, and the realm wouldn’t have the same unrest they did with your mother.

“Perhaps that is enough for today,” your mother offered as Jace became increasingly frustrated with his inability to master High Valyrian.

“No!” He exclaimed ardently, holding his arm as if to stop the suggestion physically. “I-I want to keep going.” 

You smirked and flipped the page in the picture book you showed Viserys as he babbled nonsensically, his tiny fists grasping the bound leather. As you touched his plump cheek, he smelled like tallow and lavender.

Your mother allowed Jace to proceed with the bob of her head as Maester Gerardys began again. “Guēsi ropakakson Āegon ūndas.”

“Aegon gave orders for the trees to be felled,” you responded as if the question was directed toward you. Your mother quickly snapped her violet eyes in warning. You were used to that look and continued to tend to the babe like nothing happened, as Jace answered with stutters. 

“Aegon… ordered that the trees should be… killed,” he stated proudly. You released a puff of air through your nose that sounded like a laugh as Viserys took the tome with tiny, curious, grabby hands. 

“Felled. ‘Tis a related word,” your mother gently corrected as she clasped her hands behind her sturdy back. “I don’t expect you to learn High Valyrian in a day, Jace.” 

“A king should honor the traditions of his forebears,” your brother steadfastly declared as you turned with your brows raised, spine cracking. 

“That sounds like something your sister would say,” your mother expressed with a slight tightness in her tone. Pursing your lips with guilt, you returned to Viserys, acting as if you weren’t paying attention. 

That was precisely what you said to him before your lessons today. 

“Unless you plan to depose your mother, you have plenty of time to study,” she teased with a grin like she always did, her happiness becoming contagious as you returned the look over your shoulder. Jace did not share the same enthusiasm as the chamber doors opened again, revealing that of your stepfather strolling down the steps. 

You looked to Daemon grimly as he met your mother with a grave expression on his time-worn visage. She declared that you all leave the room as he entered without looking further at you and your siblings. Jace called the young Joffrey to follow him, and you and your mother’s lady took Aegon and Viserys. As you passed your stepfather, he brought his hand out, noiselessly ordering you to stop while handing your mother the sealed letter in his fingers. He traced a calloused knuckle over his son’s cheek and placed a kiss on his crown, purple orbs piercing your dark ones.

He knew of your distaste for him ever since he wed Rhaenyra mere days after your father’s death, refusing to leave your rooms unless necessary. While you never felt like the Velaryon side of your family liked you, they agreed with the unspoken sentiment that Daemon had something to do with your father’s death. You disagreed with the idea that your mother did. She loved your father in her way and, in your mind, wasn’t capable of plotting the murder of her children’s father. 

You didn’t outright disrespect Daemon; after all, he was still a prince, but he would never be someone you looked up to or went to in times of strife. He would never be your father, not even as he irritatingly called you daughter and played with the new pearl and sapphire necklace your mother forced you to wear today—a gift from your stepfather. 

You understood Daemon only did these things to irk you, refusing to play with the ruse like usual. With no sentences exchanged between you, the Rouge Prince sent you on your way with his offspring wrapped securely in your arms.

“Another raven from Dragonstone, Your Highness,” a Steward announced, holding a rolled piece of parchment sealed with a delicate blue ribbon. 

The One-Eyed Prince sat in a green armchair by the hearth, seemingly unbothered, his lithe form in thought and leg crossed over the other. He did not move. His violet eye trained on the flickering orange and blue flames. No words of acknowledgment were said, and the servant placed the letter on the Prince’s foot table as he took a long sip from his goblet in hand. 

You were always stubbornly loyal to whoever you cared for, and he thought it rather pathetic, especially when you still sought contact from him after you were met with uncaring silence. 

On more than one occasion, his mother attempted to uncover what you said to him, Aemond discovering her rummaging through his writing desk drawers. He met her with an anger he had never felt before, as if she had stolen his most prized jewels. 

The Prince told himself that he didn’t care if passersby discovered them. They were inconsequential items containing meaningless ink, and he thought they were a waste of paper until she almost found them. Although he loved his mother dearly, this was something that was Aemond’s, untainted by neither her nor his grandfather’s fingers. 

He spent many hours pouring over the subjects you wrote as he battled with the urge to burn your writings, yet desiring to fly to Dragonstone atop the Mighty Vhagar and ensure the oaths you declared in the refined loops of your High Valyrian were indeed true. Aemond never did, only having gotten as close to Driftmark and spotted the glinting silver roof of High Tide before the suffocating feeling inside his chest took hold.

Blood, screams, and horror on your face as he clung to your chest before you crushed the childish hope of being different from the rest of them.

As the Prince grew, he found solace in places he never did before, frequenting the Keep’s gardens and Godswood with Helaena when he wasn’t on the training grounds. He was never fond of the outdoors, preferring the company of a good book curled next to a simmering fire, but he discovered that spending time in those areas brought a sense of contentment, though he was uncertain as to why.

Taking one last sip of his wine, Aemond sat his silver goblet and replaced it with the rolled parchment, licking the sticky remnants away from his lips as he untied the soft satin ribbon. 

“Uncle Aemond,  I hope this finds you in good health and spirits, as I cannot say the same for myself while writing this. I have overcome a recent bout of melancholia, as Maester Gerardys calls it, and now I’ve heard that Lord Corlys was gravely wounded during an ambush in the Stepstones. Insultingly, Ser Vaemond Velaryon has petitioned the Crown to declare him my Grandsire’s successor upon his passing. This infuriates me to no end. I know if my father were still alive, he would have protected him with his life, and we wouldn’t be having such a discussion. My younger brother will be the next Lord of the Tides since our father is gone. While we may disagree on specific lines of heritage, Luke is my father’s son, and I am his daughter. I find it ironic, however, that a place that haunts him, and you, he will now have to preside over. He shall be forever reminded of the great misdeed he infringed upon you, and I do find a sort of justice in it, but I would never dare to voice such a thing aloud. Luke is my brother, after all. I love him with all my being, but a part of me will never forgive him for what he did to you. I’m sure you feel the same.  Mother said we would attend the petition to affirm my brother’s long-decided succession, but we both know the actual cause behind this. I do not enjoy discussing these matters. It boils my dragon blood whenever the false rumors surrounding my birth are brought up. Laenor Velaryon is my father and loved me as such. ‘Tis a fact that will never change no matter what lickspittles and gossipers claim.  Oddly, despite its negative connotation and history, I eagerly await my arrival at the Red Keep. Do not think I am forgetful of you. You would not believe me if you knew how often you are in my heart and mind. I hope to see you in good health and that my recommendations for your eye, which I’ve mentioned in previous correspondence, have proven useful.  Until we meet.”

Aemond did not know whether to throw your letter into the smoldering fire and watch the flames engulf the tan pages or to rip it into a dozen tiny pieces. He hated you. He loathed you with his entire being as he dangled the parchment over the orange and yellow embers, yet he could not will the rage in his heart to drop it as the heat burned his fist. Aemond welcomed the discomfort, the pain. He grew accustomed to and welcomed it until he felt the water beneath his flesh bubble. 

You were no more than a dirty bastard, a daughter of a whore, yet you flaunted riches like a Targaryen princess, unbefitting of your actual status. Aemond did not want to see you ever again, lest it be you groveling on your knees for his forgiveness. It was you who broke the vows and betrayed him, choosing your filthy, Strong brothers over him. He would never forgive you, though seeing you knelt before him as your pretty tears decorated your plump cheeks would be a lovely sight. The Prince felt his cock impulsively swell at the image. 

He abhorred you, yet Aemond meticulously placed your letter amidst a collection of others in an exquisitely crafted wooden lockbox adorned with intricate carvings of dragons. As he savored a deep gulp of wine, his gaze fixated on the flickering light evoked by your memories. It brought to mind the recollection of your unique grace, a quality that remained unmatched despite the countless attempts made by him and Aegon to find women of similar allure. The sharpness of his eldest brother’s words and the acrid scent of his breath lingered in his memory as Aegon leaned in on his thirteenth nameday.

“Worry not, brother. We’ll find one that looks like her for you. Time to get it wet.” 

Without hesitating, he flung his drink into the fire, extinguishing its voracious flames.

The ground was cold beneath your fingers despite wearing gloves as you pruned the small plot in Aegon’s Garden. Budding crocus dotted the moist area with tiny bursts of purple petals and green stems, withstanding the late winter season. Spring was a moon away, but winter refused to release its clutch on the land, leaving the dirt to keep the frigid dampness that few things could grow in. 

Aegon’s Garden was where you found yourself in strife, seeking peace and distraction in your passion. Now, with your mother’s nerves upon hearing that Ser Vaemond Velaryon decided to challenge the line of succession to the Driftwood throne, you felt the heavy burden of the future on your hunched shoulders. You felt bad about the whole situation, from your Grandsire Lord Corlys’s serious injury to the unspoken notion that Vaemond bringing this petition to the Crown was that Lucerys, and by extension, you and Jacaerys were illegitimate. The truth did not matter, not really. It was what those believed or those in power seats told those to think, and it was that you, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey were the offspring of Laenor Velaryon and Rhaenyra Targaryen.

As the King declared, you were next in line to the throne after your mother and Luke for Lord of the Tides after your Grandsire. His word was law, but it was no longer that of a King who sat on the throne but a Queen. 

“You should be readying for the journey, Princess. Your mother wants to leave at first light,” Edwina, your most loyal lady, stated. She stood with her broad shoulders squared, hair tucked underneath her white maid’s cap, and hands clasped behind her back. Though she was barely a few years your senior, she acted as if she had decades. 

You sighed, rolling your dark eyes in annoyance and sitting on your haunches. You supposed Edwina’s mothering was not unfounded, as your impulsiveness tended to lead you into regret. “I will not be joining my mother and Daemon on the ship. ’Tis much faster on dragon back,” you quipped.

“The Princess wants you all to arrive together,” your lady expressed, taking a few steps closer to show her seriousness. 

“To show a united front. Yes, I know Edwina. I could not go,” you teased, smirking, removing your leather gloves finger by finger. “I have no love for the Red Keep, my extended family, or them for me.” 

Edwina knew that was a lie. It was evident how she saw you pour over letters addressed to King’s Landing. The maid knew not who the intended recipient was, but there was someone who held a secret place in your heart. The Karstark often wondered if it was Aegon, seeing as a betrothal was whispered in the past, though that idea was quickly squashed after you had an uncharacteristic fit when she voiced it. 

“I understand, Your Highness, but duty is sacrifice. Those of your standing must do things in service to your House and family that are against your wants. I do not envy that,” Edwina offered with a half smile of pity as the pair of you entered the benevolent brimstone walls of Dragonstone. 

In response, you hummed, linking her strong arm in yours and lowering your head with a look mirrored hers. “This a small price to pay to live a life of privilege.” 

The lady nodded in acquiescence as pictures of the poor folk in line for their food rations showed in your mind. Your travels gave you a perspective that your family did not have, forcing you to confront privileges you were unaware existed until they were thrown into your face. You held a sinking feeling inside when you thought of it for days after, guilt gnawing at your heart every time you were draped in lavish dresses of Velaryon blue and adorned with lavish jewels. It sparked you to grow your plot in Aegon’s Garden when you finally returned home and give to those less fortunate despite the odd looks your family gave you. 

A similar heavy, sinking weight inside your gut returned as you thought of going to the Red Keep, seeing your uncles and Queen Alicent after what happened at Driftmark. Your guilt and shame felt as prominent as if you were the one who sliced into Aemond’s eye. You tried to reason that he deserved some form of punishment for hurting Baela, Rhaena, and your brothers, but it never worked. Your conscience was too steadfast to allow lies like that to blind you. 

Your mother planned on staying in the Red Keep for a night to spend time with her father and to renew her place at court. There was no joy in your heart to learn of her plans as you chose what dresses and jewelry to wear before supper. Though King’s Landing was once your home, it no longer held the wonderous warmth that came with a place of rest. Childhood memories spent there did not come with a smile when you thought of them. Instead, misery came to mind with lingering stares from adults and Aegon and Aeomnd’s relentless teasing regarding your birth. 

The cold, briny halls of Dragonstone were your home. Everyone loved you and your kin here, and there was no whispering behind silk fans wherever you went. The only gossip was if you would become with child before or after Princess Rhaenyra betrothed you and Jacaerys. 

After you supped with your brothers, mother, and Daemon at night, you lay within thick furs that threatened to let the frigid midnight air in. When you woke to leave, the ground would dust with the crystalline covering of frost, and you knew how Gaeli despised the cold. He would fly at your command regardless, but you would undoubtedly feel his displeasure until he resided in the heat of the Dragonpit.

This petition felt like a dark cloud looming in the distance of a clear sky, promising its threat of a storm as you soared over Blackwater Bay. Despite your mother’s insistence that you ride on the ship with her because of her pregnancy, you choose to take Gaelithox across the water. In turn, that caused your brothers to want to take their dragons to King’s Landing and leave your mother to make the journey with only the comfort of her husband, which you were sure she didn’t mind. 

It was customary for the family to make an entrance together and be greeted by the host’s kin, but when you emerged from the wheelhouse that took you from the Dragonpit, its dark caverns still the same, you were greeted by only guards. The lack of forethought and the apparent insult of the Green’s absence sent an icy feeling into your gut, causing you to itch at the skin beneath your black dress. 

The gown was not your typical style choice, as it was your Velaryon blue and pearls, but your mother wanted you to wear one of your garments fashioned in the Targaryen colors of black and red with a golden linked belt and rubies to match. She planned to present a united front before the Court and the Greens and, without it said, further solidify her and your siblings’ legitimacy to the throne.

As you stepped out of the carriage with an encouraging inhale, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey, along with the nursemaids carrying Aegon and Viserys, followed after a chill running through the air. You brought your fur-lined cloak closer to your goose flesh arms, shuddering as you observed the Red Keep in all its grandeur. It was as big as you remembered, looking at the tall pale red stone towers, windows, and colliers. You felt small, the unmistakable burn of tears under your eyelids, your nose beginning to run as memories from six years ago flashed inside your mind’s eye. 

Luke and Jace came to stand behind you, taking note of your trembling lip and pink cheeks. The youngest of the two was filled with the same anxiety as you and quickly took his hand in yours—a united front. They did not know why you were shaking in your riding boots, squeezing Luke’s fist for comfort as Lord Caswell led your family inside the front gates. 

While the red and black banners of House Targaryen were raised on the Keep’s walls, it seemed to be House Hightower that occupied the castle. The Seven-Pointed Star was everywhere you looked throughout the halls that once were Harold with the tapestries of flying dragons, riders bounding with their mounts, now those of the Seven, holy pictures of the Crone and her guiding light, the Maiden with her pure, ethereal beauty, and others of religious importance.

It reminded you of your time in the Citadel in Oldtown, the ancient seat of House Hightower, who aligned themselves closely with the Faith of the Seven. Your family’s relationship with the Septons and Septas was strife until the late King Maegor ruthlessly crushed the Faith Militant Uprising. However, during your stay, you heard whispers from passing Lords and Ladies that the animosity supposedly vanquished long ago was still there, simmering below their fear of House Targaryen and their dragons. 

While the Seven did offer you something to soothe your soul in times of unease and explain unanswered things, it didn’t provide you consolation seeing it paraded around grotesquely in place of your House’s history. It churred the feeling of anxious dread in the pit of your stomach as your brothers eagerly left your side to explore the long-forgotten Red Keep. 

“I would say it’s nice to be home, but I scarcely recognize it,” your mother said, a slight lilt to her melodic voice and sharing a knowing glance with Daemon. 

You stood closely by her side, moist lips tucked in concern as you observed your stepfather’s butter smirk walking before the two of you. You and your mother stayed unmoving for another moment to allow the situation to settle. The abrupt raven, Lord Corlys gravely injured, Princess Rhaenys traveling to King’s Landing, Luke’s legitimacy loudly called to question all happening within a few days was more commotion than you had within the entirety of your stay at Dragonstone. It was a wonder you hadn’t plucked at the hairs of your Crown, your digits twitching and coming to scratch at your scalp.

Suddenly, you felt a shift in the air, unable to name the sensation as you turned to your mother, whose beautiful violet orbs were trained on a series of portraits of your kin. While your King grandsire, stepfather, mother, Queen Alicent, and her children were there, your siblings were not, leaving only the elegant, rectangular golden frame of your countenance in the places of your brothers. You felt your heart drop and glanced at your mother with wide, curious eyes. 

This meant too many things. Not only was it an insult to your mother and siblings to have all but their pictures, but the fact that it was only you there out of the six of you. It was no doubt Queen Alicent’s doing as you forced yourself to swallow a lump in your throat. The tears you kept at bay reemerged as your fingers dug under your black mesh veil, rolling the fine dark hairs at the nape of your neck between the pads of your thumb and forefinger.  

Swiftly, your mother took your wrist, soothingly rubbing your knuckles as she gave you a brief yet wistful smile. “Why don’t you find the Godswood, yes? I shall meet you there shortly.”

You bobbed your head stiffly, willing your tears and trepidations to quiet as you rubbed at your damp lashes. “Yes, Mother,” you responded in kind with a sniffle. 

You found yourself within nature as you always did in times of strife, gazing up into the crimson leaves of a Weirwood, the soft rustle of branches reminding you of inaudible whispers. They were hard to make with the sky’s brightness, only to see the fuzzy outlines with the gray clouds, but they comforted you. The Old Gods watched you with their unseen eyes as your fingertips traced the rough bark grass crunching beneath your boots.

The Godswood was the only place within the Keep’s grounds that did not cause you significant stress, as only fond memories of your times with Helaena catching insects and playing games with Jace and Luke filled your mind. You had no desire to return to King’s Landing despite being away for so long. It felt as if no time could heal the irreparable wounds caused within these walls and the person who did it. 

Many rumors spread throughout the realm and to your little island of Dragonstone from the smallfolk, whispering that Prince Aegon’s appetite for depravity did not curb after his marriage to Princess Helaena. The people said it increased tenfold as the Prince was spotted frequenting the gambling houses, brothels, and illegal fighting pits. It seemed fitting for your eldest uncle’s character to become the worst of something he was supposed to make the best of. 

You could only think of the innocent children sired into this world without their mother’s consent and then put into the fighting pits so that Aegon and other highborns could have their entertainment. When you are Queen, you shall kill every man or woman who dares to share the same interests as your uncle. You would not willingly allow such depravity under your rule. No amount of coin from such establishments could be worth it to keep the economy afloat.

The soft crunching of late winter grass caused you to jump, tearing from your thoughts as you turned to see your grandmother, Princess Rhaenys. You bestowed her with a deep curtsy and smile, coming to greet her with open arms. 

“Grandmother!” you called with unspoken joy in your tone. “Tis a pleasure to see you after so long.” 

She extended a tight-lipped smile that looked like a grimace, and you felt deflated. “I wish I could share the same unwitting joy you do, seeing as my Lord Husband lays battling with the Stranger.” 

You lowered your arms with chagrin and took a few paces back as you felt the sting of tears resurface. “Apologies, my lady. I did not mean for my joy at seeing my father’s mother to make light of the gravity this day brings.” 

She chuckled wryly at your words, shaking her head as she looked to the Weirwood tree behind you. Following her gaze, you moved from her path as she took steps forward. There were so many things you wanted to say to her, to scream to her how much you loved your father and wished for those involved with his death to pay as you twirled his signet ring on your middle digit. 

Princess Rhaenys looked to you in the serene noiselessness of the Godswood, the chill in the wind causing you to shiver, gaze drifting to where you worked the gold around your knuckle. She said nothing with her mouth. She needn’t, as you could see it written plainly in the deep wrinkles lining the corners of her eyes. The Princess felt the same but would never admit it aloud to a… bastard. 

“I shall leave you in peace, Princess,” you bowed again, walking with less brightness into the Keep as you left the one person you could speak about your father to.

You felt like an imbecile for what you said, even though any grandparent should feel the same glee you did at their grandchildren’s arrival. A hot wave of embarrassment seared your insides, causing you to dig the heels of your palms into your eye sockets, ripping your veil off in anger. You didn’t care about the beautifully plated hair your ladies created, scraping your nails into your scalp to feel the threadlike texture of your bothersome strands that ached to be released as you ran blindly through the stone halls. 

There had been times when Aemond had forgotten who you were, your smile, your laugh, your eyes, who your birth father was, and the sweet kisses you bestowed on him alone in his chambers. That is why he reasoned that he was surprised to see a woman grown and no longer a girlish figure with a short, flat torso and legs. Instead, it was a lady with the slope of your neck dripping with rubies and dragonglass barely hidden beneath the crevasse of your swelling bosom. 

Your eyes were all he could think about from the moment you emerged from the second wheelhouse. A scared, almost dovelike look to them as he watched Luke and Jace come to your side. 

Good, he thought. You all should be terrified. Yet he did not hold the same conviction as his stare drifted back to you.

The Prince thought you were so small and fragile from a distance as he observed you leave the Godswood, an arch to your dark brows that seemed to be in pain. He thought there should be nothing within your perfect ideal life to be so torn about and wanted to give you a reason to be upset. Aemond planned to spit all the vitriol he held within these six years as you rounded the corner, and yet, as Aemond held you within his bruising grasp, you stared at him with such fire beneath unshed tears. 

The passageway Aemond cornered you into carried a chill seeping in from the outside as he saw your cheeks redden in ire. Your moist, plump lips slightly parted to breathe as he dug his blunt nails into your biceps. He felt his breeches become impossibly tighter as you swallowed, darting your pink tongue out in nervousness, much to his frustration.

Aemond was no longer the sun-kissed Prince with wide amethyst eyes full of light. His plush, boyish face had slimmed in the time lost and turned into one of hardened maturity with a sharp nose and chiseled jaw that came to a point with thin pink lips. His countenance resembled the statues you saw in Dorne as you felt his strong hands dig into your muscles like he wanted to tear at your essence. You felt your body weaken against your will, succumbing to the emotions you felt for your uncle in your youth, but resolved to stay firm against his intimidation. There were still hints of the Aemond you briefly knew in your childhood, the one that kept that night a secret still to this day.

“Unhand me, Aemond!” you spat as if he had swiped filth across your face, a deep wrinkle on your forehead.

Aemond wanted to laugh despite your seriousness as he pressed you further against the pale red stone wall, uncaring if Princess Rhaenys heard your cries. You dropped your headpiece in your struggles and attempted to retrieve it before your uncle’s piercing grip righted you again. 

“Must I?” he quipped, his stomach churning with excitement as the familiar scent of citrus and something darker wafted into his nose. “You’re a strong lady. I’m certain you can overpower me.”

Aemond allowed his gaze to roam over your face as you scoffed with a squirm. He wanted you to be ugly, for you to become the personification of all the wrongs your family committed against him, to be the picture of the betrayal he felt for you choosing them over him on that dreadful night. Up close, he unwillingly realized you were what the smallfolk claimed you to be. The picture of the Maiden though he knew you were anything but. Aemond wondered what they would think should the people discover your true nature.

“You believe yourself a true Velaryon, do you not? The Old, the True, the Brave,” he asked, his voice low and menacing. His face was so close to yours that you could see the intricate stitchings of his brown leather eyepatch. You wondered if he wore his sapphire today. “Your hair is decorated with gold and pearls, fingers adorned with jewels, and wrapped in lavish dresses. Yet beneath all the decadence you wear, you are still nothing more than Strong.” 

His insults meant nothing as you realize your uncle felt the same inner turmoil. Why else would he speak such prose of your being? He loathed and loved you in the same breath, something he fought to keep inside.

“Do not hide behind cruel words, Aemond. I see you as you are.” A delicate hand came to cup his marred cheek, the smooth pads of your fingers tenderly stroking the plunging indentation through his skin. You wished to get through to him, to tell him that despite the rift between your families, you cared for him. He could still be your Mors Martell.

The Prince felt himself crack, an unconscious twitch of his lip that he disguised as a sneer. Aemond felt a sensation he fought to keep at bay since he was disabled, struggling to hide the way memories from long ago clouded his mind. Instead, the Prince focused on how you inhaled a sharp breath when his hand left your arm and came to your face, jerking it towards his as Aemond lost your tender touch. He would swear upon his death that he saw your eyes dilate a fraction too much for it to be the shadow of the torchlight. 

Wondering then if the rumors were true that you and your twin had a closer relationship, he brought his other fist to encircle your waist, trailing it down the back of your plump thigh until he forced it to wrap around his hip. A part of Aemond was sure you would scream for help as you did when he found you with Aegon, but no words escaped your moist lips.

“You hurt me, my light. Can I not simply bask in the presence of my long-lost dream?” he mocked and realized that he might have gone too far as he felt your body stiffen and face blanched. The expression on your visage reminded him of the times he saw wounded soldiers return from minor village uprisings, the bloodshed changing their perspectives. 

The Prince understood that there was no returning from what he said, seeming to have flipped an unseen switch inside you at the mention of his mother’s petname for you. Your lips began to tremble on their own volition, and you abruptly noticed the striking resemblance between Aemond and his older brother. The most venomous expression you could muster curled onto your face, hiding your fright and not allowing him to hold power over you any longer.

“Don’t insult my intellect, Aemond. I know what disgusting thoughts play inside your mind, and they intimidate me for naught. You are more alike to Aegon than you allow,” you jeered. You knew what to say to wound him, to compare him to his wastrel of an older brother who raped innocent serving girls and his kin.

Unable to help your wandering eyes, you watched how your uncle’s pink tongue moved within his mouth, how the wetness glistened with the flick of his ire. 

“And what of you?” Aemond rebuked. “You cannot simply only be close siblings. The dragon’s blood runs thick and even more so between twins.” 

You were silent, leaving only the faint rustling of nature in the distance wrapped around the pair of you like a rope, tightening against your skin and pulling you and Aemond closer. Despite the frigid weather, it became hot, sweat collecting on your upper lip and nape. All Aemond could hear was the fierce rhythm of your breathing, his eye wandering down to the elegant necklace perched on your chest.

“You spout baseless, vile accusations of your kin that have made lesser men lose their lives,” you rebuked, fists coming to clutch at his jerkin and wrapping your digits in the green leather as if you meant to fight him.

“Perhaps,” he breathed with an air of superiority, “but I don’t believe it to be treason to question your morals,” he replied coolly, his light brow quirking with his tone of practiced impassivity. 

The Prince was stunned into silence when your tiny, delicate palm echoed off his marred cheek. It was not the force that shocked him, but rather the notion that you did it despite the threat of violence.

For a brief moment, white, hot pain seared at his left temple and into his skull as he turned to you and saw an expression of regret. Aemond felt the heat on his cheek and smirked. He knew you intended to hurt him by striking him on his injured side and now understood how to cripple you as Luke did him. It would always be your beloved family—your weakness.

The lamb bit as fiercely as the wolf, Aemond mused. You may not be as frail as he thought.

Excitement curled the Prince’s toes at the whimper that escaped your lips as he used his strength around your throat, perfectly styled hair fraying on the stone. Your once flat irises now burst with life as they darted across Aemond’s lean form in brief terror, a proud grin wrinkling his eyes.

“You ignorant bitch,” he declared, pressing himself closer, his hand firm around you despite attempting to pry them off. His other limb reached down, shifting you to the tips of your toes as he dropped your leg. Though fruitless, he reveled in the terror that washed over your features as you attempted to fight him. He wouldn’t dishonor you, but all that mattered was that you did not. 

Aemond felt disgusted at his actions, believing for a moment that you were right about him, that he was indeed the same as Aegon, yet in different colored clothes. 

“I’ll scream. Just as I did that night.” 

“Then do it and let the whole Keep think worse of you,” the Prince mocked, bearing his white teeth. “I shall say it was you who seduced me, and who will they believe? The King’s second son or the bastard daughter who fucks her brother?” 

He could feel your humid breath against his face, fanning the spot where you had struck him. Aemond stared at this vicious yet adored creature in his grip as he concealed his insecurities with the intimating tilt of his head as if examining a new book. His violet eye traced the ink, waiting for your next move. The Prince would have you think him to be Aegon if it meant fucking his spend into you no matter how undeserving you were of it. Perhaps you would finally see what the true seed of a dragon looks like. Aemond grinned with his unspoken words and felt satisfaction with the anger he stoked in your eyes. 

“You will let me go. Now,” you demanded, pushing against your uncle as you struggled for purchase.

“And then what will you do? Run? Men in King’s Landing are not as kind as I when they see a distressed lady.” Your jaw ached, feeling like a rabbit cornered by a fox as a familiar and unwelcomed primal warmth blossomed between your thighs. 

You wanted to threaten him, to say that you would feed Aemond to your dragon or poison him in his sleep, but nothing came to mind besides the smell of too-sweet wine and the taste of dried dates. Memories came from that night, as you felt yourself becoming faint, the will to fight to leave you just as it did with Aegon as powerless tears welled on your lashes. You were a fool to think Aemond would see past his injustice for the sake of the past and resign yourself to whatever fate he chooses for you. 

There was no point in fighting. Once again, you were at the mercy of your uncle, and you only prayed that this one would be gentle.

The Prince no longer felt proud of his actions as he watched your body recoil into itself. There was something in your eyes that Aemond couldn’t name as he looked between them, feeling himself slowly pulled into their depths as he did the night after Aegon. The Prince wasn’t going to hurt you, not really. He was young and foolish, but not to the extent that he would commit an act of one of the highest sins.

As if the mother herself took mercy on you, the soft murmur of voices down the hall echoed into your and Aemond’s ears. You could not hide your smirk as he stared into you with a deep scowl on his porcelain face. Whatever plans he had, they crumbled like dead leaves underneath your boots as your mother and step-sister came. Taking his momentary distraction to your advantage, you shoved against the hardened planes of his chest, your sudden rush of strength knocking Aemond off balance as you retrieved your forgotten headpiece. 

Soon, they came into view, their destination no doubt being that of the Godswood as you fixed your disrupted attire. You couldn’t help the grin that pulled at your plump cheeks as you saw your uncle’s scowl, taking a few paces to reach them. You seemed the proper princess to the outside, greeting them with a quick embrace and your chin high.

Rhaena acted like Aemond wasn’t there. Only the uncomfortable shift of her shoulders revealed she noticed him while your mother extended a short but polite acknowledgment before he stalked away without proper dismissal. 

“What did he do to you?” your step-sister pointedly questioned, scanning your form for any injury.

You looked at her in what you hoped was a confused yet grateful expression and not one of guilt. “Prince Aemond merely wanted to make amends for the lack of presence at our arrival. I do not believe him to be sincere.”

Your mother smirked her delicate peony lips, releasing a scoff of disbelief as she shook her styled hair. She closed the space between you and tenderly grasped your shoulders as she scanned your form for injury.

“Do not let them get to you. They seek only pride and glory,” your mother declared steadfastly, a vibrancy you had never seen before in her amethyst eyes.

Nodding in acquiescence, you extended another brief embrace before you excused yourself, wanting nothing more than for this day to end as you went to search for your brothers. 

You needed Jace—to feel the comfort only your twin could give after facing the scars of the past. Before reaching your destination, you felt an iron-like grip across your upper arm, pulling you into a secluded alcove. You feared the worst, that someone planned to harm you and that your last words to your mother would be lies.

“You are quick, niece,” Aemond whispered haughty into your ear, causing you to drop your headpiece in fright, “but that quickness will do you no good in King’s Landing. Your whore mother has no hold here.” 

Just as quickly as your uncle took you, he released you with a shove. You wanted to bite with some clever or witty remark but thought of none. Tears of embarrassed frustration welled in your eyes as you spun on your heel, ignoring the tickle on your wrist like something had touched it.

As Aemond watched your womanly form retreat, dark eyes trailing over your curves, he did not feel the satisfaction he believed the interaction would create, spotting your discarded veil on the flagstone floor. He stared at it for a long moment, tracing the intricately sewn beads as he picked it up. 

Unsure of what came over him, he brought it to his nose, the scent of citrus flooding his senses and into the blood that engorged his cock. He was able to appreciate the feminine quality of your fragrance fully. Your aroma was refreshing and rounded, sweet but complex and deep simultaneously, similar to the limes that garnished drinks during the Keep’s summer gatherings, but with floral, herbal, and resinous undertones.

With a guttural noise, the Prince tightened his grip on the headpiece, channeling all his hatred towards your family into his clenched fist and tucked it into his jerkin. He swiftly went to the training session with Cole, hoping the knight wouldn’t see through his façade before witnessing the impending downfall he believed your family deserved. 

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Sooooo, what did we think about their reuniting? Just two mentally ill and horny young adults. XD I originally wanted the whole meeting with Aemond again, the petition, and the dinner scene to be all in one chapter, but that was waaaaaay too much. I split them up to get those infamous scenes in the next chapter. I'm excited. It's gonna be juicy!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you so much for reading! (⁠ ⁠´⁠◡⁠‿⁠ゝ⁠◡⁠`⁠)

I wanted to briefly give credit to @targaryenrealnessdarling, and their fic The Blood is Rare for inspo of the setting when Aemond and the reader meet for the first time. However, I did change things to make it my own. They have a lot of Aemond fics that will surely quench your thirst as y'all wait for the next chapter. (⁠◠⁠‿⁠◕⁠)

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp, @britt-mf, @marvelescvpe, @haikyuusboringassmanager, @discofairysworld, @lottiemsgf , @nessjo @fiction-fanfic-reader , @qvnthesia , @hotvillianapologist , *@p45510n4f4shi0n, @theendlessvoidofdarkest , @readerselegance , @gothamgurl2024 , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @vaylint , @ln8118 , @prettyduckling22 , @primroseluna

*bold means I can't tag you for some reason ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡

[winterzsurprise]

Change My Mind [4]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 7.1k

[1] [2] [3] [4]

nothing much to say this time but this is not beta read, my friend who was supposed to read it is unfortunately unavailable, idk if the argument makes sense in the end cause I personally run from confrontations so idk how to write good arguments so yeah.

This is a bit shorter than the previous chapters but the next one is longer again since-- GUNSHOT

ANYWAYS, Happy reading!!

Also I hope I got the taglist right, please if you don't want to be in it, do tell me. If anyone else wants to be added to the taglist, please comment down below.

TAGLIST: @wildestdreamsblog @canarystwin @prettywheenicry @jmnscutie @sassy-snassy @misuguru @11thenightwemet11 @yoongibaybee @rinkud

___________

In all of your years working for Bangtan, as one of their staff and the youngest stylist, you've been included in every life events and celebrations there is. Birthdays, first wins, comebacks, everything there is even something as important as family dinners. You've never skipped or forgot a single member's birthday, period.

But as Guwon stands before you, a plane ticket to Jeju in hand with the departure scheduled tomorrow and returning just a day short before the tour, you find yourself at a crossroad. It’s Jungkook's birthday tomorrow and Jimin has planned a small party tonight at their dorms before the formal celebration at the company the next day.

While you've been trying to rectify the awkward air between you and the maknae since his confession by starting conversations, the maknae only replied to you with silence before promptly vanishing in two seconds flat.

But despite the strain in your relationship, you could never think of not attending his birthday. You'd never thought to be petty enough to return his energy. His present was already wrapped in a pretty bow under your bed for a week now for Christ's sake!

“I-I can't… It's one of their birthday’s tomorrow.”

“Oh.” His smile falls. “Can't you just give your gift today? Surely they can party for one night without you.”

It was a genuine question, logical and true but for some reason, his tone raised concerns within you. You swear to the highest heavens you could hear a bit of irritation hidden beneath dejection.

You winced. “I can't, I'm really sorry… I-I can pay you back what you've spent for the trip. I'm really sorry, I just never missed any of their birthdays. I swear I'll make it up to you next time!”

Guwon's shine dulled the further you went on and your heart twinged with guilt. In another universe where some humans gained animalistic features, he'd have dog ears pressed to his skull, staring at you with wide and glistening eyes.

You waved off the image immediately, disturbed.

“It's also my fault for not asking for your schedule. The tour is next week and then you'd be away from me for months so I kind of… panicked. I'm sorry.”

He should've known better than not to do research on your bosses , a voice at the back of your head scoffed and you waved the thought away as you put a hand over his. 

“I should've notified you as well. Tell me if those are refundable or not, I'll pay you back.”

He waves you off. “Cute but I've been raised well to know not to ask a lady to pay for my mistake, so don't worry that pretty head of yours about not being able to go.”

The date continued and thankfully, no dead air remained and conversation eased out of the both of you. Guwon sorted out his reservations early on, he'd stopped eating every once in a while to pick up his phone to either receive a call or respond to an email.

With how often he answered the chimes of his phone and how long it took for him to finally put it down, you figured he must've prepared a lot for the week and it made you feel more guilty every time he did it.

Today, he brought you both to an indoor park he rented for an hour for a picnic. It was on the outskirts of Seoul and he also cooked most of the food placed between you both, his mother however, was responsible for the side dishes.

Speaking of mothers, yours called earlier to congratulate you on whatever it was she was adamant on keeping secret but you already knew what it was and you were glad Jungkook’s mother gave birth on such a perfect day almost 21 years ago.

Guwon was planning to propose to you during the trip.

It left a bitter taste in your tongue. Sure you had expected to be married to him at some point but you barely knew the man outside of his colorful stories, and knew none of his actual behavior in his home. You haven't even visited his house yet for a vibe check so why is he rushing too fast?

Despite the guilt in your heart, relief is more palpable knowing you'd have more time to figure out if you truly want Guwon in your life.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket and you took a glance at it.

[17:29] Jinnie: I'll pick you up at your apartment by 6.

[17:29] Jinnie: please be prepared😊

Seeing the t̶h̶r̶e̶a̶t̶e̶n̶i̶n̶g̶ friendly smile attached at the end of his message, you're suddenly reminded of the present. You hadn't told any of them of your date today, something that had drawn out longer than you thought it would. You frowned, fingers drumming on the side of your phone as you pondered on what to reply.

You had promised to help with the food yet here you are, out of town and on a picnic date inside a garden observatory.

“Who is it?” Guwon asks, seeing the frown on your face. Your mind immediately picks up the odd tone he has.

“Their oldest, Jin. We're supposed to cook together before the rest comes home.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “I thought the birthday was tomorrow?”

“Oh, we're planning a small party before it, just his closest friends.”

Guwon nodded, eyes distant and thoughtful as he took a bite of his sandwich before continuing. “What time are you expected?”

“Their eldest said he'll pick me up at six.”

He looked at his watch and frowned deeper. “It's already 5:30. Maybe I can drive you to their dorm instead?”

You immediately shook your head. Remembering the promise you had with Jin and Jungkook. The maknae had recently begun to look at your direction again yesterday after Hoseok had talked to him, inviting Guwon would ruin the smallest progress you’ve had. 

Not to mention, you can't reveal their dorm location even if he is to be your husband. Company rules and you've signed an NDA.

“Company rules, can't reveal their location.”

“If we're going to be a couple soon, I'm going to need to know more about these guys you're hanging around. I don't trust them.” He says as he turns to the picnic basket to take another sandwich out, unable to see the twitch in your eye. 

“Well, you have to learn how to, they’re my bosses and my best friends.”

“I’m having a hard time believing that. I mean,” He scoffed. “Did you notice how they look at me whenever I’m around? That rapper—Yun–Yoonmi stared at me like I’m an insect he stepped on.”

Anger boils deep within your soul and you’re sure it's visibly contorting your face at this point but the man didn’t notice it and continued chewing on his food.

“Besides, their location is pretty well known already, no? Just a couple searches away, why be so secretive about it?”

You refrain yourself from frowning and it takes all of the energy within you to not react as wildly as you would’ve. It was amazing how the illusion of something good could shatter with only a few words and you set down the sandwich in your hand.

There's something terribly humbling upon realization that the man you're talking to is indeed, a man.

Noticing the shift in the air, he set down his cup of coffee with a slight raise to his brows.

“Why are you looking at me like that? It's true though, I just think it's pointless to try to hide it when some people already know, so what's the use of trying to hide their dorm?”

Where's Jimin and Taehyung at times like this?

You dreaded the conversation you're about to bring up to your mother once she calls, and could hear her scolding you for having such high standards. Guwon being indifferent to the possibility of being stalked, and your boys’ privacy being breached immediately raise red glaring flags over his head.

A lawyer himself who shrugged at the threat of crimes, the joke just writes itself.

“Don't look at me like that, I'm just… trying to understand why you didn't want me to interact with them after our second date. It makes a man overthink, know?”

Whatever thread you were holding onto, a sliver of hope that you might've misheard or misunderstood him, decayed within you and you picked up your phone to stuff into your bag.

You had hoped, wished, that after your deep talk on the night Seokjin had scolded your ass to the nines he'd understand your dynamic better with the boys or at least try. You could already hear Yoongi's drawl out ‘I told you so’ as you packed up, even imagine him bringing up Namjoon’s statistical analysis and how I should've listened to it.

“If you're implying what I think you are implying then I don't think we should meet each other anymore.”

Tossing the food back into the basket carelessly, you slung your bag over your shoulder and stand, only for his hand to shoot out to grab your wrist in an iron grip.

“Wait, I-I'm sorry! I just got… jealous, that's all.”

Even with the apologetic look displayed clearly on his face and the fear swimming with them, nothing could bring back to life the trust you had on the man and you pushed his hand away.

“I can't stay with someone who can't understand why those boys are important to me, sorry Guwon but we're over. Don't you ever contact me again.”

“You can't possibly be breaking up with me because I said what I felt? Over them? Really?!”

You don't even recognize the man sitting opposite you.

He knew, he saw how close you are with them and even sat through the stories you told him during your dates. Guwon knew you cherished every single boy in the group yet he disregarded it all because of jealousy? If that isn't a warning, then you might be blind.

“It's like I never even knew you at all.”

He scoffed. “Same with you. Can't believe I actually believed your words telling me you were friends but I saw how those boys treated you!”

Sure your relationship with your bosses is unusual but it was built from hardship and loneliness from being taken away from home and surrendering their time for a glimpse of fame in a field where they're at a huge disadvantage. It was special in ways not many could fathom because in their head, what reason would there be for a man to befriend a girl other than having the intention to fuck them?

It was the mindset of the old and “ wise” and it had infuriated you to the nines.

For him to reveal himself as one of those old cogs when he expressed himself as a gentleman and be convinced by his act of kindness, even the word disappointing could express how greatly upset you are.

“Bet you've slept with all of them at least once, hell, I don't even know why your mother bothered when you're already busy whoring yourself for seven men.”

Anger flooded your veins, it was hot and rampaging under your skin. Before your mind could even register your actions, your hand had already moved, making contact with his cheek in one swift motion. The slap echoed like a clap of thunder in the silence of the observatory.

Even after seeing the angry red mark beginning to mar his skin, your anger remained.

“Goodbye Guwon, I hope we never see each other again.”

Walking away was easier said than done.

You got picked up by Guwon earlier and since you've run far enough from the indoor garden, away from your supposed ticket back home, you're now waiting for an uber at a small library sequestered between towering and loudly designed buildings. You had half a mind to ask your friends that lived nearby for a ride but decided against it.

They might be busy with their own family. 

Unlike you.

As you sit there waiting for your ride to come, your mind takes you to your mother and her genuine glee at the thought of you getting married. Ever since your second date, she had been sending you photographs of weddings for inspirations, links to event places and tailors, and flower shops where you could have your bouquet arranged. She was beyond ecstatic, if she heard what had happened, she would be devastated. 

A loud, exasperated sigh left your lips, the volume catching the attention of the bookkeeper who was quick to shush you.

As you waited longer with only the deafening silence of the library to accompany you, doubt began to form at the back of your head. 

Was breaking up with Guwon really the right choice? 

An angry, louder voice screamed at you for doubling down on your decision. You knew your boys longer than you knew him, if the trip had gone through, Guwon would've proposed to you despite the short time you've known each other. Something you didn't want. Not to mention, he would've gone through the idea while contemplating on your loyalty.

So yes, it was the right decision!

But you were to be married .

Your mother was so happy to have finally matched you with a guy you attended three dates with. The thought made your heart clench, she was excited to see you on the altar and has most likely spread it around your town with pride. She was about to have three married children.

Gods, you don't want to imagine the conversation later on, she'd be distraught.

Your phone buzzed and you dreaded looking at the screen to see your mother's name. Luckily, it was Jin instead.

           [18:01] Jinnie: where are you?

           [18:01] Jinnie: knocked on your door but the neighbor said you were out.

           [18:02] Jinnie: you're late😒

           [18:02] Jinnie: I'm going to have them deduct your pay this month for making me wait

           [18:03] You: I'm sorry your highness for disappointing you, please forgive this servant of yours🤧

           [18:03] You: was on a date

           [18:03] You: not that it matters anymore, I broke up with Guwon

           [18:04] You: does it even count? I mean, we weren't official, he didn't ask me to be his girlfriend yet.

You paused, face souring as you realized what you've just typed. 

Guwon hadn't asked for your hand officially even after three dates, he had the chance on your second date during the stroll but he didn't. Despite this, he went and asked your parents for their blessings when he hadn't even asked you first.

           [18:04] You: wow I just remembered that

           [18:04] You: then he had the audacity to propose to me!

There's a pause in between his usually instant replies and you had an inkling he's already spreading the gossip around the group somehow.

           [18:08] Jinnie: wow there's a LOT to unpack there

           [18:08] Jinnie: but worry not

           [18:08] Jinnie: I'll have Jimin get us the strongest drink there is for later

           [18:09] Jinnie: we'll drink that sorrow away and you're going to tell me what the hell you meant by proposing while not being official 

           [18:10] You: I don't think I should tell you that…

           [18:10] You: considering… ya know

           [18:11] You: also don't you guys have an early schedule tomorrow?🤨

           [18:12] Jinnie: bold of u to assume I don't want hear how massive of a failure he is

           [18:12] Jinnie: nothing better than hearing your enemy’s downfall😌

           [18:13] Jinnie: also what do you mean ‘you guys’??? 

           [18:13] Jinnie: you're literally our make-up artist!

You scoffed at the message but before you could type up a reply, the notification from your uber app popped out to inform you about your driver now waiting outside the library and you walked out.

           [18:23] You: and just because I'm your make-up artist, doesn't mean I should let you all get away with this

           [18:23] You: and I won't even drink much :pp

           [18:24] Jinnie : if I ever see you stumbling around the house, you owe me 100000

           [18:25] You: WOW

           [18:25] You: AREN'T YOU RICH ALREADY????

           [18:25] Jinnie: money is money😌

           [18:26] Jinnie: just get ur ass over here already before I add more zeros to the bet

The smell of Jin’s cooking, both spicy and something savory, welcomed you first before the sound of sizzles did. At the sound of the door closing, Jin appears round the corner with an apron hung from his neck and a tong stained with red bean paste in the other.

Despite the disappointed look he's going for, reminiscent of a mother who caught her daughter coming home past curfew, the relief you feel upon seeing his handsome face after earlier was palpable and the knots in your stomach loosened.

“I should have your pay deducted for showing up late.”

You winced. “Sorry boss, can I appeal for a heartbreak discount on that?”

“Only if you give me a hug and cry on my shoulder.” 

He opened his arms wide, plush lips widening into a smile when you approached to wrap your arms around his torso. The fabric of his sweatshirt was soft and the scent of new laundry overtook his usual scent of freshly baked cakes and gentle vanilla perfume, it almost made you boneless in his hold. Moreso when he started stroking your head while the other ran up and down your back with his palm, fingers still wrapped around the tongs.

He didn't pull away despite the awkward position with him bending down and practically melting against your smaller form. In your years of being friends, you could never recall Seokjin being the first to pull away from a hug and once more, you're grateful for that.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I’ll do it while cooking, we might burn whatever you're cooking if I told you all about it here.”

He shook his head, his rubbing motions on your back turning into gentle pats. “We can just order it online if it does, I even bet that they'll still eat it even if it was. Hoba was relentless today.”

His nails raked through your scalp and you resisted the urge to shiver. 

“He was being an ass towards you guys. Then when I defended you all, he accused me of sleeping around.”

His first instinct was to curse the man down to his ancestors who bred with each other until he was born, but stopped himself when he realized what he's about to say and cleared his throat.

If his arms coiled tighter around you, you only leaned into him further.

“Normally I would say "I told you so" but I know Yoongi has it covered later. So I'll just say—"

"Don't you dare. Jin don’t you dare finish that sentence."

"I knew it."

He let out a cry when your hand slapped his arm but it quickly dissolved into a fit of squeaky laughter and he pushed your head back under his chin before you could even continue hitting him. Hand continuing their petting as you let out an annoyed groan.

“My mom was so excited! God. I hate that bastard for disappointing me and her. She was sending me links to wedding planners and dressmakers because apparently he was supposed to take me to Jeju tomorrow and propose.”

He stills in your arms, the hand in your hair stopping its motion as his breath hitched in his chest. It took him a moment before he recollected himself and continued to pat your head, pressing a kiss on top of your crown.

“I'm sure auntie will understand, I know that she would've wanted you to find a good man like she and your sister did.”

A voice at the back of your head told you he was referring to himself but you threw the thought away as soon as it went.

“Personally, I would've taken the ticket and ditch him.” He laughed and you hit his arm with a barely concealed grin. “All I'm saying is that free things should be used and if it's gifted then better! You get to decide how to use it so refund it!”

“I don't think it's that easy.”

“Just say Kim Seokjin of BTS asked for a refund and they'll immediately accept it.”

Pulling away, you playfully rolled your eyes at him, earning you one last laugh as you walked to the kitchen where the sizzles of the food being fried on the pan had long been muted. Jin followed you with an onslaught of words spilling from his lips, justifying and detailing how he would've done in your place as you placed your bag down on the island counter before reaching for the spare apron.

Hearing his rants filling the silence made it easier to relax, made forgetting how upset you were at Guwon a walk in the park.

It was familiar and his voice, despite his fiery indignation, was oddly comforting.

Soon enough, your conversation halts and you both position yourself over the counter, following his orders mindlessly; which is mostly dicing the vegetables and the slabs of meat he marinated last night in soy sauce and spices. 

You found the repetitive motions of chopping soothing and silently thanked the man now hovering over the saucepan, gently stirring the seaweed soup. 

As if sensing your eyes boring holes on the back of his head, his ears reddened and he looked over his shoulder to meet your gaze.

“W-what is it? Wh-why are you looking at me like that?”

“Just admiring how huge your shoulders are and how reliable you are.” 

You recalled how dearly he cared for his group despite the exhaustion from practicing singing and dancing the whole day. Despite being the youngest in his family, Jin took on the mantle of the oldest brother in the group easily and selflessly provided for his members alongside Yoongi and Namjoon. If it were anybody, you were sure the boys would've been sick or had long given up, especially when the company was about to file bankruptcy in their earlier years.

From the bone shattering dances, exhausting practices and routines stretching from dawn till dusk, you were thankful Seokjin was there to catch the others when they fall.

It was a hard task nobody would've assumed since selfishness is a built-in trait of a human yet Seokjin proved you wrong when he stayed up every night despite the muscle cramps and exhaustion weighing his bones to cook for his members, taking the role of the eldest like it was a second nature despite being the youngest in his family.

He barked out a half-hearted laugh as his red ears brightened from the compliment. “I already know that of course!”

“Thank you for everything, Jin.”

His face crumpled when he laughed bashfully, the bright hue in his ears crawling to dusk his cheeks as well. It didn't take long before he recovered and like clockwork, in reaction to being flustered by compliments, he got defensive and raised the saucer threateningly at you.

“Ya! If you're planning to compliment me, at least be original! I'm done hearing about how wide my shoulders are from ARMY and how reliant I am from the others! We've been together for years, do better and be original with your compliments!”

It was a joke, obviously.

But staring at the older man childishly brandishing his cooking utensil like a bludgeoning weapon, you couldn't help but ponder about what truly pulled you into him only to realize that you've never truly dove deeper than surface level details. It was disappointing to find out how shallow you've been when expressing your appreciation for the man.

Like he said, you've always pointed out how reliable he is but never have you pointed out the small things such as the warm food he claimed have been extras and the hot soups sectioned off for you on cold days.

He was the first to approach you on the first day despite being the member who mostly kept to himself, asking you if you wanted to celebrate their Rookie of the Year win with them instead of the rowdy staff behind you. 

The first one to build a bridge leading to this deep companionship you had with the rest of the members, have you really never thanked him for that?

“You're so caring and humble despite your background and where you are right now. If it was anybody else, they would've left the boys to fend for themselves once they were able to yet you didn't stop cooking for them, for us. I don't think I have ever met a man so down to earth and as loving as you are,” You paused. “Well, except Jimin but if you want something more original I'd say I love your hands even when you think they're weird because they—”

You didn't even realize Jin crossed the distance between you both until his hands clasped around your lips, silencing you completely.

Unlike earlier with only his ears blushing, his cheeks now glowed red, the flushed skin spreading down to his neck, continuing past the collar of his dark blue pajamas. When your eyes meet, you find his glistening with unshed tears no doubt touched by your hastily put together declaration of your appreciation for him. 

When it was clear you wouldn't continue your rant, his arms fell to your shoulders and pulled you into a tight embrace. 

His violent heartbeats thudding against his chest was the first thing you've heard before you registered the stuttered exhales and his gentle saccharine scent filling your senses, clouding your brain completely. For a moment, it was just you and him in the kitchen, hugging a little longer than friends should be.

But then again, since when have you guys ever drawn the line on how platonic touches should last?

“God… You gotta stop doing that.”

“I'm just following what you told me like a good dongsaeng and I think I did exceedingly well on it. Does that guarantee a deduction on my pay deduction?”

There's an odd, invisible weight that lifted off of you, something you didn't even realize you were carrying. But there's also a tinge of guilt pinching the edges of your heart.

Jin was the first to approach you, and the first to confess four years ago. He was all shy looks and sweet smiles, his sweet words accompanied by a bouquet of flowers that must've cost him more than he could've gotten from being an idol of a new group. 

When Jin loves, he gives his all and doesn't think twice to give half of himself as well. In a way, he and Yoongi were alike, just with different approaches.

He was open and unapologetic while Yoongi was subtle and often silent.

His laugh twinkled in your ears but it dwindled later on, as if he remembered something towards the end of his mirth. “You're driving me crazy, how am I supposed to move on when you're this lovely?”

Hearing him confirm your suspicion about his crush—is it even called that at this point?—relieved you from an unknown anxiety most likely sparked by Jungkook's words a few nights ago. Why are you even relieved hearing him still liking you when all you've done is hurt him?

“You're such an idiot, you know that?”

“Love makes you do the stupidest thing but I don't think I've ever regretted ever falling for you.”

He pulls away, a gentler, softer smile now tugging his lips up.

“God, you made me sappy! My god, my soup!” 

Even without the warmth of his embrace, you could feel it radiate in the small space of the kitchen. You continued your work as Jin fuzzed about the seaweed soup behind you, bathing in the domesticity of it all.

Your phone vibrates loudly in your bag on the island counter. Wiping your hand on your apron, you opened it to see Jimin’s messages.

           [18:56] Mimi: seokjin hyung told me to buy the strongest alcohol 

           [18:57] Mimi: any idea why he’s being weird?

           [18:57] You: I’ll tell jin that you called him weird

           [18:57] You: but yes

           [18:57] You: I’ll tell you all later why

           [18:58] Mimi: 🤨

           [18:58] Mimi: not if I get you drunk in the first ten minutes

           [18:58] You: I’d like to see you try, pretty boy

Your phone vibrated again. Namjoon had texted you, seeing the preview you rolled your eyes.

            [18:59] Joonie: Seokjin hyung didn’t say but I already figured it out

            [18:59] Joonie: You'd hear enough from Yoongi hyung later but

[18:58] Joonie: I told you so

[18:58] You: I hope you trip and fall on shit🥰

[18:59] Joonie: Love you too, noona😁

[18:59] You: blocked🚫

“I'm not seeing enough chopping, young lady. Get back to your station!” Jin jokingly scolds. With a laugh, you return to your spot.

By the time some of the boys arrived—except Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung, no doubt pre-gaming somewhere—it was already ten and some of the dishes were plated, ready to be eaten in the dining room. If it wasn't for both your and Jin's advanced thinking to ready the bowl of rice and their plates beforehand, they would have starved to death as Yoongi dramatically puts it before blaming Hoseok for draining them out the whole day.

The man in question just laughed in response before shrugging and rebuking their ‘accusations’, saying it wasn't even that hard. To this, Yoongi grumbled under his breath and Namjoon rolled his eyes.

A few minutes later, the maknaes entered, cheeks all flushed except for Jimin who was holding up a bag full of canned alcohol as if it was game from an all-day hunt.

You thanked Jimin silently for drinking the birthday boy tipsy enough to make the dinner energetic instead of the awkwardness you thought it'd be due to what happened a few days ago. There's fleeting eyes you've caught in between jokes he made, either pouring with adoration or longing, you tried to not to pay it much mind.

But of course, the alcohol pouring could only go for so long before you're all lounging in the living room to talk about anything that comes to mind. It was half an hour short from the clock tickling to twelve, signifying Jungkook's actual birthday.

The conversation started off tame with Taehyung questioning the animals who sleep standing to something more elaborate with Yoongi asking everyone's opinion about some decrypt conspiracy theory surrounding the rich of the west. It was all fun and games when Taehyung, lost in his own mind running with the most random thought, sluggishly pointed at you and asked:

“Wh-why aren't you checking your phone? G-Guwon hyung haven't been texting you yet?”

Many heads turned to you who was practically boneless in between a tipsy Hoseok and a still sober Yoongi. You didn't even need to look to know the look of concern Jin was throwing your way.

But everything was hazy, your head throbbing from the alcohol. The words slipped past your lips before you could think about it.

“We parted ways… He accused me of sleeping around when I said I didn't want to go on a trip with him tomorrow ‘cause I didn't want to skip Jungkookie's birthday.”

Hoseok patted your shoulder and Yoongi nodded, face indifferent as usual. Despite the reaction of the boys on both sides, not everyone in the circle held the same opinion it seems.

“You didn't have to decline it, noona. You-you’ve been with us for years, missing one wouldn't hurt me much.”

Jungkook's voice was softer as if he had sobered up from the revelation and you waved him away.

“What are you saying? I couldn't leave when we weren't alright.” You glimpsed at Jin before continuing. “Besides, he was planning to propose and I'm glad he couldn't anymore.”

In your drunken mind, the information didn't carry much weight but the pin drop silence following your words did, you guessed that it must've been. However, it didn't last long when Taehyung jumped up to his feet and punched the air as if Korea just scored the final score in FIFA.

The boys look at him with wide eyes, shocked by his reaction. Jimin recovers and tries to tug him down but a drunk Taehyung is determined, with a will stronger than a monk's resilience and patience, no one could stop him from doing what he wanted.

And that was bumping his glass on your forehead, a little harder than it should've been if he was sober and you reel back, a hand over your forehead.

“Noona! you're free again! Do you know what that means?!”

“Ok that's enough for you tonight. Let's get you to bed.” Jimin says, chuckling awkwardly as he stands behind his best friend, wrapping his arms around his waist before dragging him away.

“Why? Can't I just congratulate noona from recognizing something was off instead of ignoring it like most do? Noona,” He turned to you, bottom lip jutted out. “It's not bad that I'm celebrating right?”

Seokjin’s laugh was nervous when he rose to usher the man away as well. “Alright, lets all calm down so we don't accidentally say something while drunk.”

“Fuck yeah! I-I don’t even know why I even believed his lies, he’s a lawyer for fucks sake!”

“Not that it ever stopped you before. I still don't understand why you couldn't have married one of us instead.” Jungkook cuts in, suddenly irritated.

Somehow, the tension in the room grew tenfold and everyone sits up, alert and ready to interfere if their youngest decides to let the alcohol take control of him. Your brain clears once it registered the annoyance in his voice, heart dropping to the soles of your feet.

“Jungkook—”

“I just think it's a bullshit excuse and you know it. You told that to Jin-hyung four years ago and have repeated it ever since. We’re all adults now, we can handle a little rejection and who’s to say we can’t date when we’re the only idol running the company. You say it's because you don’t want to choose but aren’t you just instilling false hope in us?” 

He stood as he grew more agitated but Jin pushed him down, eyes stern as he stared down at their youngest. Seeing the conflict brew between them, the growing guilt built by years of spending time with them reawakened.

It tied your stomach in a knot and felt like a building had dropped onto your heart.

As if sensing your emotions, Yoongi’s hand found your shoulder to give it a squeeze.

“You’re not thinking straight so stop it,” Jin excuses as he turns to you with an apologetic smile. “He’s just drunk, he doesn’t—”

“I know what I’m saying and I think you’re being too biased here hyung!”

“Jungkook…” Hoseok calls from next to you, voice low, a warning.

“You too! She’s also your friend, why aren’t you pointing out how she’s just playing with us? Why are you only calling me out?”

“Because you’re being a stupid drunk right now, Jungkook. Stand down .” Yoongi ordered, voice firm and warning. His arms are crossed as he stared their youngest down but the maknae wasn’t intimidated by it, if anything, the fire in the older man’s eyes only fueled the anger boiling within him.

In years you’ve watched over them, never once has Yoongi scolded their youngest past Run BTS contents, leaving the reprimanding to their oldest and leader. For him to call him out and seeing them grow agitated by each other’s presence, dread loomed over you with your nightmares threatening to come true. 

This isn’t how tonight’s party was supposed to go.

“Isn’t there anyone who’d agree with me at how absurd all of this is?!” His head snapped at Namjoon who’s watching with a careful eye. “Hyung, surely you can also see it!”

Throughout the exchange, Namjoon had sat back and watched the interaction from the sidelines instead of interfering on the first hint of a fight breaking out. Even when the situation becomes a little aggressive, he stays silent but you don’t doubt that he’d be the first to stand if the disagreement becomes volatile and inching towards physical.

That's what he always has done, observed and let the high rise of emotions eventually tides down to a calm on their own. He's a leader, he's supposed to be fair and to do so, he must first understand both sides before taking action. He also trusts his own team to temper their own ire after years of being together.

But now that he's forced to join the argument, he sighed and stood. Seokjin stepped away as he approached their youngest with both hands placed on his shoulders to sit him back down. 

Obediently, Jungkook follows.

“While I do see where you’re coming from, I think it's a bit unfair that you’re blaming her for being scared.” Jungkook opens his mouth but a firm shake of Namjoon’s head shuts him up. “Don’t start again. There’s a power imbalance here kid. If her choosing someone could cause a problem, we’d get off scot free but not her. In the eyes of the company, she’s disposable—”

“But she’s not.”

“She is. In their eyes at least. By having her around causing problems for us, she’s nothing but a thorn in their side that they should remove. If she had dated one of us and eventually broke up, it would cause an awkwardness and riff between guys especially if it ended on a bad note and BigHit won't stand for it. You know how important this job is for her, right?”

They stared at each other for a long while, both unrelenting in silence. You all waited with bated breath, Namjoon was the only one who could diffuse the situation and if he fails, then who else could possibly calm the maknae down?

Turning to the clock, you bit your lip at the time.

It was nearing Jungkook's actual birthday, three minutes short before both hands ticked to twelve.

Which meant it would have to start during the denouement of an argument. The thought planting discomfort in your stomach. Such a happy celebration shouldn't be welcomed like this.

In the midst of raised voices and pointing fingers, Taehyung has completely sobered up from where he sat between Jimin’s thighs, staring beady eyed at the situation in his friend’s arms. Sensing your gaze, he turned to you with a sheepish, apologetic smile when Jungkook's heavy sigh broke through the silence.

His head fell to his chest as Namjoon removed his hands from his shoulders yet his eyes remained on their youngest’s hunched form.

“You get what we're trying to say now, do you?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Anything you want to say, gguk?” Namjoon was talking to him like he was a kindergarten teacher and you both were kids who fought on the sandbox for the shovel, warm and understanding but the disappointment in his tone is clear as day.

Jungkook doesn't reply but he shoots up to his feet, surprising Hoseok next to you, with eyes still trained on the floor.

When he did look up to meet your gaze, it was brief and cut off by a deep bow. You reached your hands out, trying to stop him from doing so but Yoongi took one of your hands and pinned them down between his and your thighs.

Jungkook never had to bow for you and it felt wrong seeing him bent down to apologize.

“I-I’m sorry noona, I—” He trails off.

In his speechlessness in a room full of people who—while understanding where he comes from—stood behind you, he clams up and then in a flash, he’s gone, bolting from the living room and skipping up the stairs. The sound of his heavy footfalls echoing like the clock ticking down to his birthday.

The argument has been dissolved, yet it left a bitter taste on your tongue, it made you feel queasy having everyone back you up without reprimanding you as well. It was true, what Jungkook said. 

Weren't you practically leading them on by not choosing anyone? No matter how unintentional it must be, if he thinks that way then maybe everyone else in the group does, just silently.

You turned to the clock again. A minute closer to the next day.

Frustration made you want to pull your hair out but the long, lithe fingers that have entangled with yours in the middle of it all, forbade you from doing so. As if he could hear the internal debate between logic and emotions, Yoongi gave you a comforting squeeze.

But it didn't feel right, you shouldn't be sitting on your ass while Jungkook blamed himself for expressing his own opinion, sure it was a bit aggressive but you understood his frustration.

“Jungkook!” You called out, rising to your feet to follow him when Yoongi tightened his hold on your wrist and shook his head.

“He needs time to process, leave him be.”

Yet despite this, you shrugged his hold off and followed the youngest’s heavy footfalls upstairs and presumably into his room. You caught onto him in the hallway, with the door to his room opened and half of his body already inside.

“Jungkook, let us talk.”

“I-I don't want to see you right now, noona please.”

The desperation to correct the wrongs gives you a short burst of energy and you catch his wrist.

“Jungkook please, I—”

You heard the joyful chime of the clock downstairs before you heard the sweet jingles of bells.

Then you felt it.

Electric jolts shoot up from your connected hands, waking every cell and your mind awake and you almost keel over from the wave of relieving warmth washing over your body. There’s now a low hum accompanying the bells chiming in the background, the soft harmony between them sending shivers down your spine. 

You've thought of first meetings like those scenes in Hollywood movies where a kaleidoscope of colors explodes behind your eyelids, like fireworks celebrating the precious moment where the protagonists finally meet and fireworks shoot up to the sky. They talked of a brief moment of reprieve from reality, the world slowing down and feeling the most calmed you've ever been with your soulmate in hand.

Like your soul finally recognizing its pair and suddenly, everyone became a blur in the background.

Yet when you stared back at Jungkook's mirrored astonishment, your stomach bottomed out.

Because no way in hell, after all this time, you're soulmates.

[loggiepj]

To Love A Lannister

chapter 14 | chapter 15

"They attacked Meereen," Oberyn stated, "Queen Daenerys did the right thing, killing all the masters to stop slavery."

Your guardian father hummed in agreement, still looking at you. Absorbed by the newfound information about your sister, you found yourself lost in thoughts. Daenerys hadn't only gained Unsullied army on her side, but also the Dothraki. The Dothraki were known to be ruthless, and war was nothing to them but sport. When you were young, you'd play with your friends, pretending to be Dothraki when you all were far from one. Any tourney held in King's Landing was nothing in comparison to the way the Dothraki fight.

"Varys has confided to me in secret to meet them in Dragonstone," your guardian father added, making you glance upon the mention of a familiar name. Varys used to be part of the King's council. You thought he was still part of the council, advising Tommen and Tywin. If the Lannisters would find out, it would be considered treason. "To bend the knee. I hear the Ironborns have also supported her side recently."

"And what does Prince Doran has to say about all of these?" you butted in, the mention of your real father's name in your mouth caused a turmoil in your stomach.

Oberyn placed the cup of wine he was drinking on the table, leaned his back comfortably against his seat, then lifted his legs to rest upon the edge of the table. "After much convincing given how he always admire the Dothraki, my brother has already advised to proceed, although it might take us a bit longer due to some complications."

Furrowing your brows deeper, you asked, "You mean his son's marriage?"

Your guardian father nodded. "He tried persuading Trystane but to no luck. Marrying them would pledge alliance between the Martells and the Lannisters. It would cause a rebellion within the house."

You only frowned upon them. "So you wish to stop them then?"

"Unless Myrcella can be easily persuaded to support the true Queen," Oberyn said, "we have no choice but to make a scene just to stop any wedding from happening."

"This is an insult!" you argued. "They're just in love!"

Remembering Myrcella's ecstatic behavior upon her mother's surprised visit in Dorne, you couldn't help but feel sympathy for them. You saw her with Prince Trystane together when you first arrived back home, and you could tell it was rare — falling in love with the person your parents wish for you to marry at first.

It was then you found out the plans Lord Tywin arranged for his granddaughter. Maybe that was why he kept you alive in the Capital. Maybe that was why he accepted Yronwood without second thoughts, because regardless if you would marry Cersei or not, Myrcella would still marry Trystane.

The only thing different was both Myrcella and Trystane were already enamored with each other.

If they could forbid you and Cersei, it wouldn't hurt if they could also break Myrcella and Trystane apart. But Trystane being next in line to his father Prince Doran, it would cause an uproar amongst the Dornish folks.

Prince Doran held a massive feast for the guests when you all finally arrived in Dorne a week ago. Although his presence couldn't help but make you feel bothered. Even when he hugged you, congratulating you for your win against the murderer of his late sister, you wondered how good of a father Doran was if he only knew.

Your guardian father had welcomed you as if nothing had changed, and you couldn't hate him for hiding such facts from you since you were a kid. He did it for your own protection.

"Oberyn has told me how you had grown quite fond of Cersei," your guardian father said, bringing you back to the present. "I trust you have already had your fun. You know your duty, Y/n."

"My duty that was only made known to me a month ago?"

"It's difficult, I know," he answered. "But it's easier this way. You don't want to end up in a decision you'd truly regret for the rest of your life — choosing between her and your own family."

~~~

The night finally came to an end. You left the room rather abruptly, eyes glistening with tears for you were lost on what to do. And it was your inattentiveness that made you bump into Cersei as she closed the door of Myrcella's chambers.

"Why are you still awake?" Cersei asked. When she saw your eyes red, she cupped your face and pulled your chin to look at her. "What's wrong?"

You bit back, holding your emotions as you forced a smile. "Nothing, Your Grace. Just a silly argument with my father."

Her eyebrows knitted in worry and confusion, knowing you weren't being transparent with her. When she was about to speak, you stopped her. "I want to show you something." Holding your hand in hers, Cersei let you lead the way.

You walked through dark hallways and climbed down spirals and spirals of stairs until you both arrived in the grand library of the Sunspear castle. You had spent most of your life in there. It wasn't as great as the Red Keep's, but it stood its purpose for centuries.

You led Cersei to the center of the room, pointing to a huge painting displayed on the entire wall, with portraits of faces on top of italicized names and vines connecting each individual.

"It's the family tree of House Martell. Did you know that Prince Doran's great great grandfather was a Targaryen?" you asked, as you pointed the almost faded face on the wall, while your other hand still held Cersei's. It was a mystery to you she hadn't let go.

Cersei smiled. "You should be wary who you're sharing it with. One could tell you're supporting the wrong line."

"It's not a harmful knowledge. This is also written in scrolls I found in your library, you know," you chided in, chuckling. "Not unless you don't read them, then you wouldn't know."

She laughed, slapping your arm playfully, finally letting you go as she approached closer to the wall.

You then fell silent as you watched her stare at the wall with fascination, her fingers brushing on your portrait connected to your guardian father's name.

Absentmindedly grabbing a dusty book from the shelf, you began, "Sometimes, I wish I wasn't part of it, part of the duty expected out of me."

Cersei then glanced at you, before she closed the distance. "Y/n—"

"Do you sometimes feel that way too?" You placed the book back although stopped midway when her hand touched your arm.

She sighed, nodding. "I . . . I do, and then I remember my children and what I would do for them."

You averted your gaze, heartbeat quickened from how near the Queen was.

Cersei continued, "They say never love anyone besides your children and family. Because love is poison. A sweet poison, yes. But it will kill you just the same."

You met her eyes, already staring right at you. "You will be the death of me, Cersei."

The book somehow fell unto the floor, making a distinct yet sharp noise that could wake any resident nearby. You quickly shushed Cersei's lips when you heard sounds of metal armor clanking outside, pushing the woman against the nearest shelves to hide.

"Is anyone in there?!" one of the Dornish guards yelled into what seemed like an empty room. You and Cersei were pressed against each other in one corner, the dusty wooden shelf and an old abandoned large furniture hid the both of you. Unaware of Cersei's gaze following your face, you peered behind the shelf to check if the guard had left.

And when you both heard the door closing, you leaned back and looked at Cersei, smiling as if you won a game of hide-and-seek. It was only then when you finally noticed how the distance between you and the Queen was inexistent.

Cersei then grabbed your neck and kissed you.

Hesitantly pulling away, you whispered, "Someone could see us."

"Let them," she pleaded, her eyes never leaving your mouth. "A lioness does not concern herself to the opinions of the sheep."

When her eyes finally met back yours, you pushed your mouth against her lips and took back what you desired.

It was carnal, hungry, desperate. As if you were both deprived from each other for too long. You gently lifted and placed her on top of a study table, scrolls and papers crumpled and fell from the action, before your hand made haste bunching her dress up to her waist. Kneeling before her, you wasted no time tasting her once you had pushed her chemise out of way.

"Y/n," Cersei let out a strained moan, her hand immediately clutching your head, fingers threading through your hair as if it were reins to which she would ride you. And she did, pushing your face harder and closer into her as she rode you. The Queen's other hand was behind her as support while you lifted one of her thighs on your shoulder.

The Lioness chanted your name like a prayer as she threw her head back. Your tongue never grew tired bringing her to ecstasy, flicking against her swollen aching bud. The sounds you made, grunting and moaning as she pulled your hair, only spurred Cersei on. You couldn't believe she was capable of getting this wet and dripping before until your fingers entered her with ease, with no resistance of whatsoever, her tight and warm cunt desperately sucking your fingers inside her.

"Yes, yes, Y/n, yes!" Cersei whimpered as she pulled you closer, if it was even possible to pull you closer.

And if the Dornish guards had heard another sound, they'd ignore and let you two had your ways. Because there was no way no one could not hear how loud the Queen Mother was as she came, her body trembling. The table screeched against the cobbled floor from the movement.

Once she came down from her high, Cersei pulled you up to her, grabbing the collar of your tunic as she pressed her lips against yours, tasting herself from the kiss. You could feel one of her hands snaking inside your breeches, somehow managing to quickly untie the knots with one hand.

You moaned into the kiss, feeling the wonderful warmth of the woman's hand stroking your hardening shaft. "I miss this," Cersei whispered, pulling away. "I miss you."

The genuine tone of adoration from the Lannister woman made you fall in love with her more. "I miss you too, my Queen." The term of endearment brought a smile to her face.

Cersei was already lining your cock into her entrance before you plunged it right in. The action made the both of you break from the kiss, groaning as her nails dug into the skin of your back.

Beginning a slow rhythm, you rested your forehead against hers, eyes staring into each other. She grabbed your face for another kiss, her other hand reaching your ass as she cupped it and pulled you closer and deeper. It made you lean back and change the pace, thrusting relentlessly.

You laid her spread down on the table as you pushed into her between her legs without stopping. She arched her back and threw her head against the wood, hands reaching any item within reach just to ground herself.

Then she looked back at you as she whimpered. "I want to see you. I want to see you, Y/n." Her hands were already opening your tunic and once done, she cupped and squeezed your breasts, making you moan from the action.

"Cersei."

Her eyes were full of lust that you found yourself nearly there, your thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier each second. You leaned your body forward, on top of her and kissed her to cover her louder moans. Hands on your hair, she pulled you back from her as she looked into you. "I want to see you come undone before me," she requested with a soft whimper.

Cersei's face contorted in pleasure before you with a piercing focused gaze made you lose it as you spilled into her, thick ropes of cum spurted inside her throbbing cunt that was greedily milking you. The sight of you coming on top of her, moaning and grunting your release, made the Queen lose her own composure. A strangled moan made its way out of her throat as she hugged you, burying her head into your neck while her cunt squeezed and devoured your cock as she convulsed.

"Y/n . . . Y/n." Both of your cum leaked inside her, stuffing her full. The feeling made the pleasure last longer as she held unto you, whimpering into your ear.

And it was such a wonderful melody.

~~~

"I know you're mad after what we've discussed with your father," Oberyn said, holding a lit torch as you delved further into the dark.

With the deafening sound from the rushing waterfall, no one would notice two individuals such as yourselves creeping inside a secret entrance to one of the deepest caves in Sunspear. As a kid, somehow you had stumbled on such place while swimming with your friends, competing who could jump from such a high peak where the water meets the ground. You almost drowned that day, but you remembered being rescued by a scaly crocodile. No one believed you that time.

When you only gave Oberyn silence as you followed his trail, he sighed. "I heard news from the castle you've been very busy with the Dowager Queen. You got to be careful, Y/n."

"I am careful," you spat back. "As you always never fail to remind me every single day."

"Doran changed his mind," he said, making you glance at him in confusion. "He now believes marrying his son to the young lioness would secure Dorne's place in the Kingdom. I had no idea how Tywin had managed to convince my brother. But Doran's been cautioning us to stop whatever the seven hells we were doing. He even intercepted Varys' ravens coming in and out of Sunspear. The Sands are starting a rebellion in the open desert upon hearing the news. Ellaria was frustrated. I am telling you, Y/n, you are the only one string holding us together to bend the knee to Queen Daenerys."

"What happens now?"

You both continued to walk in silence, crawling against uneven slippery surface only ignited by the torch carried by Oberyn. Then he paused, looking down what seemed to be an empty chasm before he looked at you, nudging ahead.

"Are you mental? Is this my punishment?"

Oberyn rolled his eyes, as he then pulled you. "Don't be a fool." You turned towards him as he said, "Don't forget to breathe though."

You gave him a scornful look before letting yourself fall back towards the dark hole. Cold water hit your body the moment you were submerged. Catching breath, you heard splashing next to you with Oberyn grunting. "I'm too old for diving."

Chuckling, you swam towards the nearest bank and brushed the wet hair from your face. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, all you could see was a large chamber ahead, even larger than the Sept of Baelor in King's Landing.

"You know, your mother didn't only give you to us before she left for Dragonstone," he started, shaking off the water from his boots. "You came with something, a shiny scaly egg. Something that hasn't been in existence in Westeros for quite some time."

You heard chains unrolling from a distance, making you look back at the darkness ahead, your hand at the sheath of your dagger.

"It hatched when you turned seven," Oberyn went on, panting as he climbed towards a high cliff, ushering you to follow him. "Only a few trusted Sands knew about its existence, doing their best to feed it, to take care of it. Goats it's favorite. Ever wondered why there's a whole pasture of goats at the end of Sunspear. It wasn't just any merchant's animal farm."

You heard a growl so deep and unnatural in this world, the hairs at the back of your neck stood. You unsheathed your dagger, not sure whether it could help your case, but Oberyn held you back as he shook his head no. "There's a reason why your guardian father hired someone from the Citadel to teach you some old High Valyrian because it only understands that language."

From the faint light coming from the cave's ceiling, you could see a shadow move before you, making you wary. It was only until you were face to face with the beast did you manage to figure out that your hunches were right. You had only seen them on paintings, on some pages from old books. But if you could talk to the painters or the publishers, you'd ask them why they never tell anyone how huge and terrifying an actual beast looked like.

You stood frozen, your dagger falling to the ground when the creature snorted a smoky breath your way, leaning forward towards you as if smelling you. You had so many questions but no words seemed to come out. Then it took a step back, a light visible in its throat before it came out from its mouth, blowing huge flames towards the ceiling, lighting the whole cave.

It was a full sized dragon, so huge it would cover the entire Red Keep. The dragon had distinguishing silver rough scales, long talons and metallic gray wings, its tail looked like spikes with ends as sharp as spearheads.

"Y/n, meet Nymeros." Oberyn's voice made you realize you were still there and that it wasn't some dream or imagination. The beast leaned forward once again, even closer than before as it gently nudged its head against your body, making you nervously gasp. Your trembling hands reached towards its snout, a smile forming slowly on your face when it closed its eyes from your touch.

"I think it's time for you to learn how to ride a dragon."

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I truly appreciate your continued support in reading my stories. You can help me create more stories by supporting my writing thru this link.

Thank you so much ❤🥰

[scentedpeachlandcreator]

subconscious mind, divine power, awareness, you |

!Note: this post is not mine, credit to vanilla on amino! (The original post is here)

hello and welcome to my post! it's another "vanilla explain's" where i will talk about "you". what is there? what do you do? what is your job? how many important parts are there?

note: divine power = common term in the multiverse,describes something like "the universe" here.

     |Г table of content.       

                   i. intro.

                  ii. what are we.

                  iii. what's your job.

                       - part's of you.

                       - job's.

                       - shifting.

                  iv. "everyone shifts constantly".

                  v. outro.

                           i. intro.

our topic today is, surprise surprise, awareness.

what is that? what does it mean, and for what is it responsible? all things that i will talk explain in this deep detail post about what we actually are.

it's something pretty important in the multiverse and can definitely and overall in your general life.

what is there beside you? different part's with different jobs, taks, and abilities.

please make sure to read everything and to ask whatever you want to know!

ii. what are we:

from my post "comfort version's" an explanation what part of "you" you are:

"what are we? and no, we are not humans, we are not even human-like. in fact, we are nothing. we are, what is called, an "awareness". you are part of a huge construct that builds up the whole "you". that what you always are, were, and will be. you can not change it, you are the awareness and will continue to be it for the rest of your existence. but that's nothing bad! what does it actually mean to be an awareness? as an awareness you just live a bit, have fun, do whatever you want, that's your whole purpose. how do you do it? you, the awareness, are

aware of things. you are currently aware of the physical plane, you see it, hear it, smell it, test it, and feel it.

you are always aware, even in the void. the void is, as you can read here, your tiny awareness home.

so long story short: you are an awareness that is aware of things, nothing more, nothing less."

⁣⠀⁣⠀ ⁣so we, every single one of us, is an awareness. you read this right now, you are aware of it, that means you are the awareness. you are connected with the other parts of "you". the subconscious mind and the divine power (here often called "universe"). these are basically the two main part's (awareness + subcons) and the supporter (divine power) of "you".

it is like that in every single reality in the whole multiverse because it does not happen on the 3d, the physical plane. your subconscious mind and the divine power are living on the 4d, the reality. you, the awareness, are the only one that is supposed to be

able to live on the 3d. of course you can be in a reality where your subconscious mind is also a person, but the 4d is still it's home. like yours is the void state as an awareness.

iii. what's your job:

but what are you supposed to do? what are your responsibilities? what does your subconscious mind or the divine power? before we answer that question, we take a better look at the other part's of "you".

part's of you:

the subconscious mind: definitely the part with the most misconceptions! who of you heard the term "reprogramming"? everyone? delete it, now. the subconscious mind is the smartest and most powerful part of you with the most things to do, and it masters everything of it. all the time. it is so much smarter than you will ever be, it is pure perfection, not improvable. there is nothing to "reprogram". many here think of the subconscious mind like a useless baby, something you have to "train" or to "impress"and believe me, it laugh's itself to death- it knows more about everything. it knows you better than you do, your desires, your reality, that's also a part of it's job's. it is so powerful, constantly navigating your reality, it genuinely loves you and that will never ever change. you could hate it with your whole heart, be disgusted, angry, frustrated. and your subconscious mind would understand you, everything of it. it would still love you, take care of you, and your reality. there is no case where this could ever be different. but why is "reprogramming" so popular? easy answer, humans are human and need something to blame. no matter if it's nearly logical, the more believe in it the better.

it is already for a long, long time a thing so here we are to finally stop this nonesense.

divine power: the divine power, here often called "universe", is your subconscious mind bestie (second bestie after you of course), and also lives on the 4d. we all know by now that the divine power/universe is also not this weird thing that "decides" when you shift or not. for now you can think of it like a cheerleader. your own, personal

one job's:

subconscious mind: a lot. let's start with the basics.

it always knows everything, all your desires, all your wishes, likes and dislikes, interests, it's just the smart part of you. then you, the awareness, exist, and that means you feel, think, assume and all of them go to the 4d. there sit's your subconscious mind day and night and sorts every single feeling, thought, assumption you ever had, into the categories "is good" (everything that serves your desires, that you like and enjoy) and "bullshit" (every doubts, limited belief, negative thing, everything you don't want).

only the good ones get used in your reality. if you f.e. think that you want a dog, this thought will go to the 4d, your subconscious mind see's it, thinks "we like dogs", and then adds a dog to your reality. the rest, the "bullshit" category, get's instantly kicked out. like immediately. no limited belief, no doubts, no unwanted thought, feeling, or assumption get's even near your reality. they have no power, they are worthless, unnatural, useless. your subconscious mind knows that, remember, it knows more than you do so of course also what you do not want. don't worry about "every thought manifests", that is simply not true.

your subconscious mind does everything for your reality, that means to take care of the things that enter it.

besides that your subconscious mind's job is to shift you. it does it every moment. it does it your whole existence, no matter what. it edits your reality constantly, it changes, corrects it, all that shifts you.

and i mean that besides the things you do (blink, breath,moving, thinking, feeling, assuming) that causes you to shift. when i say "you rush through the multiverse" you can take it very, very literal.

divine power: it's your cheerleader, your lucky charm. while your subconscious mind is hard working at everything, all the time, the dive power is like a puppy walking around searching whatever you want. like "uhh, we liked donuts, and, a yes! the chair was pretty, HEY, DO WE NEED ANYTHING ELSE??" while attracting positive things. as you can see, very wholesome. that's all it does. its pure existence brings you positivity, nothing else is needed. it is also really, really powerful without even noticing. it keeps the constant harmony in your reality, and literally brings you luck on accident.

it is very adorable and loves to work with you and your subconscious mind!

awareness: so, what is your job? what are your tasks?

what is your purpose? nothing. not really nothing-nothing

but you don't have a "hardworking, constant" task like your subconscious mind for example. your job is to exist. that is all. no matter if on the physical plane or not, your existence is your whole purpose. besides that you just have to enjoy life, the physical world, explore, do whatever makes you happy. your subconscious mind and the divine power do not work for thin air. they work for YOU. they work for the awareness. they wanna make sure you are happy, safe, and healthy. if that's not the case, let them change it. you don't have any other tasks, any other jobs, you don't have to move a single finger. remember how often i say "your birthright is happiness, you don't have to earn it because you always deserve it, it is your purpose in life". that is exactly what i mean. if you wanna do stuff, experience things, do it. but happiness is your only number one priority in the multiverse. nothing else.

your job is to exist, that's all you ever have to do.

shifting:

you probably heard the sentence "shifting is not your job" from me A LOT. i think everyone understood the basic point now, shifting is a law, it's the reason the multiverse exists bla bla bla. but now imagine this is not the case, okay? you don't shift for some reason, it doesn't exist as ultimate right now. shifting is still not YOUR job. you do nothing at all, it doesn't matter if you attempt or not. even when you do, there is nothing YOU, the awareness, change. you lay down, do a method, this all does not shift you. you do not shift yourself. but what happens is, that your subconscious mind runs up and down on the 4d, screaming "WE ARE IN OUR DR, WORK FASTER 3D!".

even then, when YOU do the "work", when YOU attemp, when YOU spent your time with "shifting yourself", you do nothing at all, it is just your subconscious mind. if you say "i want to shift" or attemp for 3 hours, there is no difference. the same thing happens. you, the awareness, are not supposed to do anything. what's your job? right, existing.

now we also know that the need "to do something", is extremely human, it is normal, you can't help it. so attempt as often as you want, your subconscious mind will love to receive such clear, obvious commands.

but what you also see in this community, are people that get their mental health ruined because of the "failures". it is not bad to do nothing, it is not lazy, it is not "not caring enough", it is your job. don't make yourself responsible for something you have no control over.

imagine you shift on command, immediately, the same thing happens. YOU say "i want to shift", your subconscious mind hears it and gives a command to the 3d, the 3d changes. you still don't do it yourself.

and when the 3d doesn't change right away, like it's often the case here, don't make yourself responsible for it nor your subconscious mind. you two did everything you had to do, your job is done. no need to worry. so if you want to attemp, do it. but if it hurts you, it's nothing bad to stop.

even if you "give up", you'll still shift. in fact, you also do your job then. you just exist, that's all. just because you don't hyperfocus on shifting, it won't change ever. you will shift no matter how much or less you do, it is completely unimportant.

iv. "everyone shifts constantly"

in this part i talk about "shifting constantly", a thing we already saw in kaiotic's post here where they started to talk about the topic so you're probably familiar with it! we agreed it would be fitting to explain the detailed "how" behind it here

⁣⠀⁣⠀ ⁣⠀⁣⠀we shift constantly. everyone of us. and no, i am not talking about "shifting is a law", you probably can't hear it anymore. we shift, you shift, i shift, your mom. you saw infinite versions of your mom, but are they different? did you have a whole other mom than yesterday? did you ever know her?

i use my little bathtub example again:

every single being in the multiverse has their own bathtub. it is always the exact same. you have one, i do, your mom also. in every bathtub are infinite bubbles. bathtub = 3d multiverse, bubbles = 3d realities. we can be in the EXACT identical bubble, 100%, but you are in YOUR bathtub and i am in MY.

and we constantly shift in our little bubbles, still always in the same. and a rule that always applies

"3d's can not effect each other". that means, you don't know what my 3d is like and i don't know yours.

we will never know. you can't know if i have a pokemon, you don't know if i look exactly like princess diana, you can not know. so we live in the same bubble, with two different 3d's. you shift all the time, i shift all the time. yes, we constantly change but that doesn't mean that we are randomly not in the identical bubbles anymore. the "you" in

my 3d changes all the time, but i still interact with YOU. just because you think i have blue hair, i don't have automatically blue hair in MY 3d. they can not effect each other. so you continue to interact with your mom, even if she changes constantly in your 3d. you do the same in hers.

this is very important to understand. it is nothing scary, it is nothing weird. you always interact with the same person. it is exactly the same with you, you shift all the time too but does that mean you are randomly a different person? just because our 3d's change separate from one another, it doesn't effect us directly. you still read this post here, don't you?

and i wrote it. like i did it with my other 50 ones. we are both very real, very equal and valid. so please don't overthink this, most of you come to very

out-of-context outcomes, so don't complicate it even more please, do it for yourself you won't be happy with spiraling. just remember, you are real, i am, your friends, and they won't magically change.

v. outro:

i hope i could introduce you to some things you didn't know about before! what you are, the part's of you,

your job's. always keep in mind that the things you want will come, there is no other possible outcome, no matter what. whatever happiness means to you, you'll receive it. always.

Note from me: i wanted to share this post cause i just found it useful, and this lovely vanilla have many incredible post on amino, she literally have so much experience in shifting.

[alphajocklover]

I really want a hot boyfriend. does instajock always make you straight or can I use it on a guy to make him more my type? (and maybe also make me more his type)

So, I think there's been a bit of a misunderstanding, one that I want to clear up. While I do my best to report on different transformation methods, I can’t include every detail about every one of them. My posts are relatively short and don’t always cover everything, because if I did it would take forever. The lack of details, plus some distracting pictures, leads to a lot of people getting details mixed up or getting confused. It’s happened before, and I think it’s what is happening here. I say this because as far as I can remember I have never mentioned anything about InstaJock turning someone straight.

InstaJock can change a person's sexuality, theoretically, through the settings and details section that I've mentioned in previous posts. The thing is, it normally doesn’t. Instajock changes its users personality, their body, and their mind, but for some reason their sexuality will usually stay the same. They’ll become more openly sexual, and also often very flirtatious to fit their new jock persona, but their sexual identity doesn’t change. Even when their sexuality does change it usually turns them gay, not straight.  For some reason the app's already confusing setting page is set up so it's a lot easier to set your sexuality to gay then to straight. My best guess for why the app is set up that way is that the creator, or creators, are gay themselves and have a thing for jocks. I mean, you don’t make a seemingly impossible app that changes people into dumb jocks if you don’t have some sort of kink for it.. So, If you use the app on someone who's already gay you’ve probably got nothing to worry about. Chances are they’ll stay gay, unless they happen to have a huge conversion kink and are really good with computers. Anyways, now that we’ve cleared up that issue let's get into the specifics of your issue. 

Changing someone's personality and identity so that they’ll be your ideal boyfriend is… pretty questionable, if I’m being honest. But so is much of what happens in the world of transformations, so I’ll focus on the ‘how to’ rather than the morals. Your first problem is one I’ve brought up before: You can only give someone the app if you already have the app. Only an already transformed Jock can invite another person to InstaJock. You’d only be able to transform him,but only if you are changed yourself. I know you said you’d be with being changed, but once you become a jock figuring out the app will be much harder, so you might not end up his type, or he might not end up yours. I think your best bet would be to convince a jock to change both of you. InstaJock users can send out multiple invites at once, so it would be easy even for him. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if he makes a dumb mistake. He is a jock afterall.

I do hope this works out for you. Not because I approve of what you’re doing, but because there are a lot of ways this could go wrong. One of you could have your sexuality changed when you get transformed, the jock who changes you both might make you brothers instead of boyfriends, or you and he could just not click. Just because someones your type doesn’t mean they’re the right person for you. Even if you and your target don’t end up together, I think you will have a much easier time getting a boyfriend after you use InstaJock. I hate to be shallow, but dating is usually easier when you have a 6 pack and huge pecs.

[lionneee]

Your sworn sword

English is not my first language, please be kind

Masterlist

Taglist

•Warnings: fingering, degradation (just a bit), 'just the tip', talking of sexual themes, piv, smut.•

{Request: I have a request! Aemond is send across the narrow sea to be the sworn sword/knight of a (verryy beautiful) princess from a noble house is esso’s. As punishment what he did to lucerys Thanks for reading dear 💙}

To say that Prince Aemond was grumpy was an euphemism.

He was rigid, stoic, and rude.

But your father loved him.

You couldn’t understand why, not after his most recent kill: his little nephew.

You remembered meeting Luke Velaryon once, he was a nice, gentle, kind boy.

His brother Jace was just the same.

Princess Rhaenyra had been invited as a guest at your father’s name day feast with her family, and you remembered spending a nice afternoon with her sons.

You actually kept contact with her youngest child, Jace. You two sometimes sent letters to each other, talking of your days apart.

You would have never said it outloud, but you had a weakness for the boy’s dark, beautiful hair.

But he was promised to her cousin Baela.

As soon as you heard the news, you thought he would have stopped sending you letters, but he didn't, and you almost cried of joy when the next letter came.

Then, your father sided with the greens.

He sided with rude, dangerous people, and named the worst of them as your sworn sword.

When he told you about his choice you begged him, you cried, you did everything you could to try to change his mind but it was all to no avail.

Now, all the other Ladies never sat with you, they were afraid to speak with you, all because of some dark, evil, scary person standing behind you, following every step you took.

It was so obvious how much he hated being a night, yet, he stood his role perfectly.

Aemond was always there, lurking like a shadow behind you, his presence cold and heavy, suffocating your every breath. He never spoke to you unless necessary, never showed any warmth or softness in his voice. There was nothing but formality and distance, a thick wall of indifference that made your skin crawl whenever he was near.

To be fair, the only thing you thought interesting of him was his dragon Vaghar.

Your days had become a game of silence, your once carefree nature now replaced with the constant awareness of his eyes on you. You missed the days when you could write to Jace without a worry, when his words brought you comfort and a glimpse of hope. Now, the letters felt like a secret rebellion, something dangerous, but you couldn’t give them up. They were the only link to a world that still held some warmth.

You still wrote to him, though your letters had become shorter, more cautious. You dared not mention Aemond, or your isolation. Instead, you spoke of mundane things, of books you were reading, of the changing seasons. Jace’s responses, too, had shifted, though he remained kind and attentive. There was always a note of tension, a hint of restraint. You knew he was aware of the shifting tides, of your father's allegiance to the Greens.

 You happily walked in your room, smiling as you held the newest letter on your hand from Jace.

Aemond was walking right behind you, but you couldn’t care.

Jace's letter had just come.

You chuckled to yourself as you closed the door of your room behind you, leaving Aemond outside, guarding your door. 

You jogged to your desk, sitting down on the chair and breaking the sigil, opening with trembling hands the letter.

There were only a few lines written.

You furrowed your brows, confused. He usually wrote at least one page.

Dearest friend,

I assume you have heard of my family’s recent loss, my sweet brother Luke, gone by the hand of my uncle Aemond. 

It saddens me to tell you this, but due to your father’s allegiance and your newest sworn sword, I believe it is time to end our communications.

Jace Velaryon

You felt a pain in your chest.

A deep pain.

You weren’t going to receive any more letters from him. 

I believe it is time to end our communications.

You stood up from your desk, leaving the letter to hit the floor as you ran to your bed, laying face down, your arms crossed under your face as you bursted into tears.

You didn’t eat lunch, you didn’t have dinner. You didn’t want to get up from your bed.

Your maids, even one of your closest friends tried to walk past Aemond to check on you, but he was impenetrable, he wouldn’t let anyone in, not if you didn’t want them to.

His behavior left you speechless.

You knew he was loyal, you knew he was one to do his duty, but the way he stood up for you, not letting anyone in just as you asked, left you almost flattered.

The hours dragged on as you laid in your bed, the room dark and suffocating. The weight of Jace's words still lingered, pressing down on your chest. It was as though the last thread connecting you to the warmth of your past had been severed. You felt utterly alone, the castle walls seeming colder, the silence more deafening.

But outside your door, Aemond remained, steadfast and unmoving. His presence felt different now, less like the shadow you despised and more like an unavoidable part of your life. He had become a constant, whether you liked it or not, and now, oddly, that constancy brought a shred of comfort in your moment of loss.

By the time the moon rose high in the sky, you hadn’t moved from your bed, save to cry quietly into your pillow. The pain of Jace's rejection, not just of you but of the friendship you had cherished, was overwhelming. You couldn’t bring yourself to think of anything else, let alone leave your room.

A soft knock echoed through the thick wooden door. At first, you ignored it, thinking it was another maid or friend trying to check on you, Aemond would have taken care of it in a moment. But after a moment, there was another knock, firm yet measured, followed by a voice, calm, collected, and unmistakably Aemond’s.

 "You haven't eaten." He said, his tone devoid of his usual coldness, though it was still restrained. You laid still, wondering if you could pretend you hadn’t heard him. But the silence lingered too long, and it was clear he wasn’t going to leave. He was your sworn sword, after all, bound to you, whether you liked it or not.

"I’m not hungry." You muttered into your pillow, your voice muffled and thick with the remnants of tears.

There was a pause, a moment of hesitation, which was unlike him. Then, Aemond spoke again, quieter this time. "It has been hours. You should take something, if only to keep your strength."

His words were filled with disinterest despite the meaning of them. He made impossible things possible.

"I don’t want anything." You repeated, more firmly this time. 

The door opened with a loud creek, and Aemond just walked inside. You scoffed, annoyed, but you felt too sad to think about him pissing you off.

“Leave me alone!” You groaned on the mattress, clenching your hands into fists. You could hear him moving in the room.

“That puppy of my nephew is what has reduced you in this state?” He asked, scoffing. You turned your head to look at him, and you saw him looking down at a letter in his hands.

Jace’s letter.

You bolted upright on the bed, fury boiling inside you at the sight of Aemond holding Jace’s letter. His tall, imposing figure seemed even more oppressive in the dim light of your room. His one good eye flicked over the page with a mixture of disdain and cold amusement, while the sapphire in his other socket glinted in the low light.

"Give that back!" you demanded, your voice cracking from the tears and frustration, but Aemond made no move to return the letter. He dropped the letter, letting out another scoff.

“You’re a fool.” He said, his rudeness making you red to your ear.

“How dare you talk to me like that?” You exclaimed, indignited.

“He’s a bastard. You’re sweet on a bastard, the son of my whore sister. That’s foolish.”

You felt your blood boil at his words, each syllable a sharp jab to your heart. “You don’t know anything about me! You think you can judge me just because you think you're so much better than everyone else!?”

He stepped closer, towering over you, his expression a mixture of contempt and something unreadable. “I am better than everyone else. I’m surely better than that boy who has no right on the throne he wants to claim so much.”

Your anger flared, but underneath it was a deep sorrow. “He’s more than just a name or a title! Jace has been kind to me, and you—” you pointed an accusing finger at him, “you are the one who brings darkness wherever you go.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed, the air crackling with tension. “Kindness won’t save you, and neither will that bastard. This world isn’t built on sentiment. It’s built on strength and blood.”

“Strength?” you spat, incredulous. “Strength that comes from killing boys? That’s your idea of strength?”

He looked unfazed, his expression hardening. “Luke was weak. That’s why he’s dead.”

“You’re twisted.” You hissed. “It brings you pleasure, doesn’t it? Being feared, see people looking away from you –” He pushed you back before you could continue, as he started pulling off the upper structure of his armor.

You stumbled back as you looked up at him, confused and stunned, but he pushed you back again as he took off the lower part of his armor, making you fall back on your bed.

“You want to know what brings me pleasure?” He grabbed your ankle, dragging you down the bed until your butt was almost over it. He pushed the skirts of your dress up, exposing your legs.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You tried to close your legs, or pull down the skirts, but he raised your legs up, then he leaned down to grab both your thighs, spreading them apart, pressing his face against your underwear.

“This.” He mumbled against the thin clothing, his nose pressing against a funny spot against you, that made a strange sound come out of your mouth. “This brings me pleasure.” He growled as he pulled down your underwear along with the stockings. “Teaching stupid ladies their places.” He said as he dived his face back between your thighs, now his mouth pressing on that same spot, sucking and rubbing with his tongue, leaving you breathless for a moment, the pleasure was so high and so good you couldn’t speak.

You couldn’t see him, your skirts were covering the view, but you didn’t really care. Not when it felt this good. 

You didn’t think you'd ever felt this good. 

The one who was making you feel good, was a Targaryen Prince, a child murdered, the rider of the largest dragon in the world.

You could only squirm, your mind numbed by the pleasure, slowly overcoming all the alarms your brain was sending you, telling you to push the prince away, to not let him touch you in such an appropriate manner.

But then, all so suddenly it stopped, leaving you panting heavily. You saw Aemond raising his head from between your legs, coming into your field of vision.

His chin was wet, his only eye almost completely black as he looked down at you.

His hands moved on your skin, almost gently, caressing your skin as they moved up, your knees, your ankles. He wrapped his fingers around your ankles, securing your legs raised, your feet by each side of his head.

You should have stopped him.

This was improper, it was a sin. A sin you were committing with the worst man in the Seven Kingdoms.

You wanted to move, kick him back, telling him to stop touching you with his filthy, blood-stained hands, but under the dark gaze of his single eye you couldn’t move.

Aemond tightened the grip on your ankles, suddenly pulling you up so your hips lifted from the mattress. Startled, you let out a weak squeak, gripping the sheets tightly as your body moved forward, the back of your thighs landing harshly against him, your core rubbing against a protuberance on his pants, the impact sending another jolt of pleasure through your body.

“Yeah, you like it.” He hummed to himself as he dropped you back on the mattress. He leaned down, his body making space for himself between your legs as his face came to hover yours. “And you want to feel it more, don't you?” He smirked, looking down at you.

You could feel your face burning because of his words, more likely because of the truthfulness of them, because yes, you wanted to feel it again.

“No-” You mumbled as you looked up at him, directly in his eye, trying to sound firm, but he simply chuckled, grabbing your face with his hand, his fingers digging in the soft skin of your cheeks. “Such a liar. No wonder why my sweet bastard-nephew doesn’t want you.” 

That stang.

Your eyes immediately filled with tears and anger.

“How dare you?” You hissed as you tried to push him off of you, slapping his chest repeatedly, but he only smiled even more.

“There, there…” He hummed as his hand went back underneath your dress, finding you private again. No matter how much you fought, his body was keeping your legs apart, and he seemed impossible to move.

You only stopped when you felt a strange feeling, something filling you in a way you’ve never felt, that made you gasp out loud. You unconsciously let out a moan, your back arched instinctively, as your body almost contorted as he started moving his finger inside you.

“So easy to shut you up, mh?” He asked as he followed your face to be able to see every expression you made. “So easy to put into place.” He added then in a low voice.

You gritted your teeth together, trying to find in you the force to push him off, to not give him the satisfaction he was showing with that damn smile of his, but you couldn’t. The only sounds that came out of your mouth were whines or soft moans as his finger moved faster inside you, caressing everywhere inside you, and eliciting a pure bliss of pleasure.

“Jace is a fool for leaving you.” He said as he looked at you, your eyes half closed, your head leaned back, your lips apart. He didn’t even look like he realized he said that, it was like he was talking to himself and accidentally said it outloud. You turned your head to look at him, finding his eyes fixed on you, staring in appreciation. “You’re a rare beauty.” He said, his voice low and rough.

You blinked slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. A warmth spread across your chest, but you weren’t sure if it was the pleasure or the way his gaze lingered on you. 

No.

You thought to yourself.

Not him.

Please.

But the way he looked at you, like he was looking at the most beautiful thing in the world was doing something to you. It made your stomach clench, your head dizzier.

You’ve been told countless times by suitors that you were a sight to see, a beauty, but it did nothing if not make you blush or feel appreciated.

With Jace you felt your heart beat so loud you feared it could jump out of your chest.

You too were aware of your beauty, but you never thought of it as a rareness.

But now with Aemond Targaryen, the cold, mean, cruel man, who was doing unspeakable things to you, who looked at you like a Goddess, you truly felt like one.

Aemond’s gaze pierced through you, a silent intensity in his expression that made your breath catch in your throat. You wished you could deny the way his presence and actions were affecting you, wished you could ignore the way his words stirred something deep inside. But the truth was undeniable. 

As he slipped his second finger inside your thigh core, you felt it crushing on you. You didn’t know what, but for a moment, you forgot about everything, Jace, the war, Aemond’s sins, your worries, your anger and your sadness, it all vanished by the newfound feeling of ecstasy. You whined louder, making aemond clamp his other hand immediately over your mouth to muffle your sounds as he kept moving your fingers. You looked at him with wide eyes, you didn’t know what had just happened to you, but you wanted to keep feeling it, no matter what cost, you wanted to feel that good again.

He kept pumping his fingers inside you as you saw him starting to move, rub, against your thigh, some hardness pressing and caressing your skin. His brows arched slightly, his eye narrowing slightly as he pressed his hips harder against you, seeking more friction and pressure. 

You’ve never seen a man do a face close to that one.

You’ve never seen Aemond make a face like that, and it was beautiful, it was breathtaking, hypnotizing, you felt like watching him all day as he experienced his pleasure.

He didn’t miss the way you seemed affected, obviously. He looked down at you and found you staring at him, his eye darkened even more, his pupil dilating even more if possible as he clenched his jaw.

“You like this?” He looked down at you, moving his hand from your mouth to your neck, gripping it tightly, but not enough to actually cut your air off. You tilted your head back, wrapping your hands on his wrist and arm, gasping as he slipped his fingers out, passing them over your pearl just to see you squirm, his lips moving into a smirk. “No.” He said as he sat up in his haunches between your legs, forcing you to spread them to make room for his body as he started to undo his pants. “You love it.”

You tried to look down, trying to understand what he was doing but he squeezed your throat into a warning, keeping your head in place. “What are you trying to see, uh?” He growled as he pushed his pants down enough to let his cock spring free. “Such a curious menace, always getting into trouble.” He hissed as he leaned over her to look at you from above. “Always sneaking around, making my life harder.” He gritted his teeth. “Making me chase you.” He raised her skirts to your waist as he aligned his cock to your core, wet and warm, hot.

“No – “ You mumbled as you felt the tip pressing on your skin. “Y-you can’t- We’re not married-” You mumbled as you panted, shaking your head. Aemond smiled down at you, his thumb caressing the skin of her neck. 

“No one will notice.” He said firmly, pushing slightly, making his tip grace the inside your core, just slightly, enough to hear another moan from you. “Just…” He groaned as he repeated the movement, moving his hips forward as his face contorted in pleasure. “... the tip – Fuck –” He groaned as he started moving his hips, the tip of his cock was being sucked in every time by your cunt, as if it was trying to keep him inside. 

It didn’t feel bad.

She did feel like her cunt was being torn apart, but she found the pain mixed to the pleasure extremely pleasing.

It was good.

It was so good.

The pleasure was so overwhelming, so strong, so blissful.

“A-Aemond – “ You bit your lower lip as you arched your back, jerking your hips to find more pleasure as his tip kept slipping out and back in.

Aemond couldn’t tear his eyes off the sight, your core making a wet sound every time he slipped in, your walls forced open to make space for his thick cock, his red tip being welcomed in the warmness of your body, and then the sound of your weak wail every time he pulled back, only enough to be able to push back in.

“Yeah like that –” He growled as he tightened his hand around your neck, his eye still fixed on how your bodies connected, his thrusts regular, calculated and hard.

He was hanging by a thread, and he was showing a great amount of control, just by not slamming his whole long cock inside you, and making you scream in pain and pleasure.

“Grind yourself like a whore –” He snarled as he started rolling his hips faster, the wet sound growing louder along with his pace. “Fuck youre so tight – You’re squeezing me inside - ”

It didn’t bother you the way he called you, the way he spoke. If not, it only aroused you more.

You bit your lower lip harder, and no matter how low you tried to keep your noises, it became impossible as Aemond moved his free hand, using his fingers to circle your pearl, putting just the right amount of pressure. Your back arched violently as you threw your head back, your mouth open in an oval shape, grunts and moans coming out one after another as Aemond tightened his hand around your throat, starting to cut some of your air supplies, your eyes rolled in the back of your head.

It was all so much.

It was all so good.

“Come.” He growled as he finally looked up at you. “Come, before I lose it.” His eye fixed on yours. He looked feral. He looked like a chained animal, that once set free, would have hunted and killed everything in its path. “Come, before absolutely ruin you.” 

It wasn’t like you had any control over it, because when the pleasure reached you in such a hard, strong frisson, you could only surrender to it. Your eyes widened, your mouth opened, but Aemond tightened his hand on your throat even more, killing every sound you could have let out. Your eyes watered as your hips jerked, the pleasure washing over you in devastating waves.

He snarled, letting go of your throat, but you barely had the time to take a deep breathe because you felt a stinging pain, barely muffled by the aftershocks of you climax, as Aemond grabbed tightly your hips and harshly pulled to him, making you slip down on the bed and making his cock thrust completely inside you, as he moaned on top of you.

“So fucking tight.” His voice was strained, his breathing heavy, then, you felt a strange sensation of wetness inside you.

You whined as the bliss of pleasure slowly faded away, leaving you in an uncomfortable pain, so you pushed Aemond away, who retrieved with a groan, slipping out of you.

You slowly sat up, looking at him as your mind slowly registered the last moments. 

Aemond stood up from the bed, tucking himself inside his pants and starting to put his armor back on.

You didn’t say anything in the meanwhile, you just stared down at the bed covers, where you and Aemond were laying till a few seconds before, committing one of the worst sins ever.

A sin that felt so good.

You snapped out of your moment of trance only when you heard the door slam shut, and a strange smell of burned paper in the air. You moved to the end of the bed, on the floor, there was a piece of paper on fire.

Jace’s letter.

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