#if i could have kicked her out of the game i would have
Note
can i request a girl flirting with spencer but he is too oblivious to understand she is flirting (bc of course he doesnt) so he keeps talking to her, and reader (they are dating) is FURIOUS and he is sooooo confused. i think it could be funny 🤭
post prison!spencer x sunshine!reader are out with the team when spencer gets sidetracked, you don't like that he is. 1.2k
You’re frowning into your long island iced tea. The entire team can see it and Luke is itching to make a comment. He also knows that despite your sunny disposition you might kick his shin under the table.
“You could always just go bring him back here,” Matt says, sipping his beer as he watches you burn holes into Spencer’s back.
You’re not jealous, no matter what any of them might imply.
“He’s a big boy. If he doesn’t want her flirting with him, he can just leave.”
JJ laughs into her drink, Penelope rolls her eyes as she chews her cherry and Emily shakes her head at you.
Spencer likely will remove himself from the girl if he doesn’t want to be flirted with- but since he’s been there for the last twenty minutes you suspect he isn’t as into you as they’ve all suggested.
It was silly of you to let your heart be captured by a man fresh out of prison you suppose. Your frown worsens at your thoughts, Spencer isn’t the ‘lead a girl on,’ type. Still you feel the hot and heavy sting of jealousy and something bitter settle in your chest.
“He’s still a bit awkward about this,” You roll your eyes this time. They all talk of Spencer like he’s a thirty three year old virgin. He isn’t. You know he isn’t because Penelope had informed you that he’d been in serious relationships before.
Not that you’d wanted to know.
When Spencer comes back, you’re itching for a game of cards and the rest of your team is itching for some sort of reaction from either of you.
It’s been clear over the ten months you’ve been working at the BAU, that you and Spencer have begun to orbit each other. You’re like Pluto and Charon. You bring each other breakfast, make each other’s coffee, you were even almost halfway in his lap on the jet the other day ‘doing crosswords.’ You really were doing crosswords.
They suspect you’re both just too oblivious (you) and frightened (Spencer) to do anything about the feelings everyone can see you have.
“Sorry I took so long,” though he says the words loud enough for the entire group to hear, his eyes are on you.
“Did you at least get her number?” You kick Luke in the shin then, earning a smirk from the man across from you. Maybe if you put salt in his protein powder he’ll relent.
“What?” Spencer asks, sipping his rum and coke. He brushes a curl of hair from his forehead, tucking it behind his ear.
You reach into your bag and pull out your sparkly deck of cards and shuffle them. “Oh are we doing readings?” Penelope asks, you don’t trust the peachiness of her tone.
“The girl from the bar.” Matt clarifies for Spencer, whose eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.
“Why would I get her number?” JJ looks at you with a, ‘do you see what we’re saying,’ look but you only shake your head.
You don’t care if Spencer did get her number or if he’d been flirting back with her. You’re not dating. You don’t care. At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.
“She was flirting with you man.” Luke says and Spencer shrugs, leaning into you as Penelope takes the cards from you. They’re only playing cards, but she’s been trying to get you to read them as well as she reads tarot.
“Are you okay?” Spencer whispers in favour of a reply to Luke, eyebrows knitted together when you shrug him out of your space.
“Fine.” Emily chuckles which only worsens Spencer’s frown.
“Hey, what about this song?” JJ says, the entire group dispersing. Penelope is the last to go, leaving the ace of hearts face up on the table.
“What’s wrong?” Spencer asks, hand reaching for your chin. You shake your head from his hand. Spencer feels burned.
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. I’m just enjoying a night out with my friends.” You make it a point to stress the word friends and Spencer almost flinches.
“I don’t believe you.” he says the words plainly. “Are you upset with me?” You turn to face him then, face stony, an expression on your face Spencer has never seen. Other than that day you were on the phone with your brother.
“Why would I be upset with you? You’re just the clueless thirty three year old everyone thinks can’t tell when a pretty girl at the bar is flirting with him.” Your words are hushed and low, your eyes dark in the poorly lit booth.
Spencer sighs, his shoulders reaching his ears before falling. “You’re jealous?”
You grumble, no point in hiding what is so very clear. “You flirt with me for ten months, and then you spend almost thirty minutes letting a stranger put their hands all over you and come back here like you didn’t know she was flirting? If you just wanted the attention you could’ve said so from the beginning, Spencer Reid.”
There’s no ‘Doctor,’ before his name that lets him know you’re being playful or funny. No, your words and your expression are the iciest thing he thinks he’s ever witnessed. You sound hurt more than anything and that makes Spencer’s heart crack right down the middle.
His hand reaches for your chin, turning you to face him. “I didn’t just want attention, you know that,”
You roll your eyes, “Oh do I?” Spencer likes this attitude on you, he can’t even pretend to lie to himself. He just doesn’t like the way you doubt him.
“I like you. You know I like you. Yes, the woman at the bar was flirting with me, but the conversation was being redirected. She was flirting with me till I told her I wasn’t interested and that I had someone waiting for me.”
You don’t believe him, “Took you twenty eight minutes to do that?”
Spencer smiles then, pressing his forehead into yours. “You’re worked up, sweet girl.” The nickname settles you a little. “It took me a little to catch on. I’ll admit it takes some getting used to from total strangers. But I didn’t enjoy her flirting with me if that’s what you’re really asking.”
Spencer’s thumb presses into the slight divot in your chin, your eyes stuck on his as he refuses to break eye contact. “I only want you to flirt with me.”
Your breath hitches, Spencer smiles. “You let her touch you.” He laughs at how petulant you sound, he knows your grip on your anger is slipping.
“Am I supposed to push her hands off me?” You nod and Spencer lets his nose run along your jaw. “You’re too much.”
Spencer doesn’t leave your side the rest of the night.
#spencerreid#spencer reid#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid blurb#spencer reid headcanon#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid angst#spencer reid x black reader#spencer reid x sunshine!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x yn#spencer reid x y/n#dr spencer reid
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Teenage Dirtbag 5
Here we go again! I decided to bring back Fratrry in the rotation. For those of you who didn’t read them yet (or forgot) check out the series masterlist. These updates are shorter so I can get them out somewhat frequently instead of making you wait hehe.
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Teenage Dirtbag Masterlist
WC- 1.5k
Warnings- asshole H, angst, Y/N putting him in his place as usual
----
Harry knew he should be a bit more cautious when it came to Y/N but… god, how could he not try and push the envelope if it meant her maybe giving into it again?
The reality of it was that Y/N, a girl who hated his guys most likely, had been the best fuck he’d ever had. She had blown his mind in the literal and metaphorical sense, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Fate had a funny way of working, sure, but he couldn’t be too mad considering he knew their chemistry was too good to push away completely.
H: what do ya want from the cafe, baby doll?
Y/N: nothing that you’ve touched.
Harry smirked at his phone. So predictable, already back with the snarky responses. It worked him up a bit, thinking about how this snarky girl had pleaded for more, kissed him sloppily as his balls smacked against her ass and dragged her nails down his scalp. Such a sweet thing for him that night had gone right to being sour as soon as she left.
H: ok, so you want me to lick your cake pop. Got it.
H: it isn’t like we haven’t shared saliva before ;)
Y/N: yeah, lick on it and then choke . Let me know how that goes so I can cancel our session this afternoon.
The hope was to bring the sessions here one day. As much as Y/N had disdain towards him, the sparks had flown during sex. She had loved it just as much as he did- he’ll, during their last round she had pushed him on the bed and rode his cock until he was sensitive, her nail marks left on his chest for days.
H: I’ve got something else you can choke on, baby
Y/N: I will quite literally not show up today, your grades be damned.
His lips puffed in a pout. He was pushing it, but it was so fun to rile her up. Eventually, he hoped she would give in and like him. See the fun parts of him like other people did- but for now, he would play this game. Cat and mouse… though he wasn’t quite sure which one he was.
H: fineeee. I’ll be good.
For now.
Y/N: please do. It was a mistake and we don’t need to keep bringing it up.
It was a mistake he very much wanted to repeat, over and over again.
H: yes, maam. I’ll see you at 2 🫡
Y/N: don’t be late, I’m serious. I have something afterwards and I can’t be late
H: oooo, a hot date?
Y/N: yes, actually. So don’t fuck this up or you aren’t getting your full hour.
His smirk quickly fell.
She was going on a date? With fucking who?
That wasn’t in his plans. For some reason, guiltily, he hadn’t anticipated the idea of someone else making a move on the girl he wanted to fuck. Let alone her accepting. She seemed like such an ice queen with him that it led him to forget just how sweet she was to literally everyone else.
It was slightly infuriating, how everyone had nothing but good things to say about her. She was nice and she helped out this person when they moved, she helped plan this persons birthday party, she spotted this person 5 when they went to get coffee… there was no denying everyone else got the sweet parts while all the sourness was reserved for him.
And yet, he still pushed her. Still played this game and taunted her because how the fuck else was he supposed to get her attention? He was going to have to kick it up a notch.
——
“Who’s the date with?” He asked in the middle of their session, ignoring the paper in front of him as he looked at her. She was way more dressed up than he’d seen her at a tutoring meet before, a little skirt that brushed her thighs and a little button up tucked into it giving it a sweet but sexy combination that made him a little twitchy.
In all honesty it had been hard to focus since he seen her today. All he could think about was how those pretty lips had been bitten and swollen from his kisses, how they’d curled around his name so fucking sweetly that it had his cock stirring at the memory. Her perfume was seemingly freshly applied and it was interfering with his brain chemistry or something, because all he wanted to do was throw the books to the side and pull her up to straddle his lap.
He imagined her hands knocking off his SnapBack, tangling in his hair as she rode his cock right in the secluded part of the library. His hands under her skirt and gripping her plush ass yet again, unbuttoning that little shirt and leaving more marks on her skin.
Marks he caught a glimpse of as she suddenly looked up at him.
“His name is Derek.” She cleared her throat. “He asked me out on Monday so I decided to say yes. He’s really nice.” For some reason she looked embarrassed by the information she had divulged, like she hadn’t meant to say all of that.
That sneaky little minx.
“Uh huh…” he let his eyes linger on the bruising that was fading but not quite covered by the collar of her shirt. “And what is Derek going to think of this pretty little thing?”
It was gentle, his knuckle lightly brushing over the mark he remembered sucking during the first round. He knew he had caused some nice little lovebites but that one was still healing, so it was probably a dark one. Fuck, it probably looked hot as fuck when it was first developing. “Suits you, y’know. My marks on your skin. I could put some more there, If you want.”
He was pushing it and he knew it, getting closer to her as his nose brushed her cheek. She wasn’t pushing him away, so he counted that as a good sign. “I could take you back to my place and I could give you quite a few more. A refresher course because… I highly doubt this guy is gonna be able to make you squirt all over his dick. Which you did with me, twice.” He hummed, letting his fingers fall a bit deeper down the collar of her shirt. “I don’t think he’s going to give you what you need, princess. We already did it once and so we’ll… it would just make sense to do it again. I think we have gotten well enough acquainted that I could do the job.”
He hadn’t seen the cold drink coming. Poured all over his lap and seeping through his shorts, he yelped as the icy liquid hit his skin. “Oi! What the fuck?”
“I told you, last time was a one and done for this particular reason, Styles.” She snarled, grabbing her books and hurrying to shove them into her bag. “Because you’d be a fucking pig and see me as a sex object instead of a human being. I’m not some fucking challenge, I’m a girl with feelings and I- I told you, I wasn’t doing it again and it meant it!”
“Babe- no, I wasn’t suggesting that at all. I’d never say that shit.” He tried to fight, unsure how it had gone south so fast. Apparently, he was shit at reading her cues. Worse than he originally thought.
“You don’t have to say it. You suggest it. You don’t respect what I say. This is why I was never going to go and do anything with you. Who gives a fuck how hot you are if you’re an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t get his head out of his own ass to see exactly why people don’t like you.” Slinging her bag across her shoulder, she scowled at him. “This isn’t going to work. I’ll find you another tutor. I can deal with your stupid flirting, but throwing what we did in my face? Absolutely the fuck not.”
Harry didn’t have a chance to defend himself, feeling incredibly confused as she ran off. Any call of her name went ignored, the librarian hushing him as he made his way out of the doors but it was too late. She was god knows where.
Who knew those legs could run so fast?
He was a little pissed that she was assuming he thought of her as some sort of object. He didn’t mean to make her feel any sort of way about it all, not thinking he was throwing it in her face, but apparently she thought so.
H: Y/N can you please come back???
H: I didn’t mean to upset you
H: I know I can be a dick and that’s part of our thing but I never thought of you as a sex object and I never would
H: I didn’t think I was throwing it in your face
H: can you answer me please????
H: I don’t want a new tutor, I want you :(
H: y/n, cmon
H: alright, I’ll try again tomorrow. But we need to talk. Please.
#jarofstyles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles one shot#harry styles fanfic#harry styles smut#harry writing#harry styles imagine#harry drabble#harry styles blurb#harry styles writing#Fratrry#harry styles au#harry styles angst#harry styles fanfics#frat boy harry#frat harry styles
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like she used to (III)
alexia putellas x sister chapter I, II
edited this in 25 minutes and now I am going to bed... but alexia debut in here today :)
~~~~~~
I sat in the back of the car as Ingrid drove Mapi and me to Johan the next morning. The car was silent, my eyes focussed out the window, hyperaware of the glances that both defenders threw back at me every so often.
Mapi is worried about me. That much I can tell, but I don't know why Ingrid, who I've barely spoken to, seems to think the world is coming to an end. She was in the room this morning when Mapi told me that Mami had called to say that she would see me there. I don't think the tension in the room was hard for the Norwegian to identify. Or it could have been Mapi's wide eyes staring at me that made her think something was wrong.
Alba is also coming to watch this game even though I told her I wouldn't be playing.
"you are part of the first team for the first time ever, hermanita! It is exciting just to watch you warm up."
I had rolled my eyes as she pulled me into a hug that day, but I appreciated it either way.
Ingrid led me to the changing rooms as Mapi made her way into the stands with some of the other injured players. My locker is beside Aitana's and she beams up at me when she spots me. I thank Ingrid quickly and make my over to Aitana and into her open arms.
"You ready?"
I nod, a smile on my face. For the first time in a long time, I do not think about my sister or what she would say, what her opinion would be. It is hard to grasp the idea that my dreams are maybe becoming a reality.
E. Putellas
29
It is a dream that I have had for a long time, to have my name on a blaugrana shirt, to be in this very position. It is something I have wanted since I could kick a ball, since I watched my sister do the same thing all those years ago.
They had asked me what name I wanted on the back of my jersey. Because Alexia just had her first name, I could take the last name without the E but Mami said to keep the E. I think she wanted me to just use my first name as well but that is for Alexia. I am only new to this, I thought.
I will not play today, Jonatan told me, but he said he wants me to be a sub in a game with lower pressure after I've spent a few games on the bench and trained with the team for more than a week.
Despite this, Mami and Alba are sat in the audience, between a bunch of relatives and family friends.
A red flush creeps onto my cheeks as I hear them all cheering when I run out of the tunnel to start the warm up. Aitana's arm is around my shoulders and she gives me an extra tight squeeze before winking at me and releasing me from her hold.
I know I will be sitting on the bench for the whole game but just warming up with the team is exciting. The cheering from the audience during the warm up is ten times louder than any crowd I've played in front of, even in the most stressful part of a match.
I try to shrug off the goosebumps that creep over my arms as I take in my surroundings. It is surreal and I think I am in a state of disbelief when Patri approaches me.
"You ok, pequena?"
"I'm good." I look at her as she places a hand on my shoulder. "This is just big."
"I get it. You are very young. You should be very proud of yourself, Elena. You a right, this is a big thing. A huge thing. We are all very proud, remember that."
She squeezes my shoulder before letting go.
"Now get to warming up, stop drifting off with the fairies!"
~~~~~~
It only took Barcelona 5 minutes to establish their dominance through an early Salma goal and by half time they were already up by 4 to 0.
The second half started and by the end of the match we were up by 8 with a decent scoreline of 9-1. Patri pulled me off the bench to go on the rounds to all the opposition and the fans. I have seen this happen so many times that it still feels surreal to be experiencing it.
"Where is your sister?"
Patri's whisper is meant to be harmless but her words are like ice water down my back and my stomach flips inside out. She continues when I shrug my shoulders.
"I saw her earlier with Olga, she's probably sat with the other injured girls."
At the mention of the girlfriend I have not met, I resist the urge to throw up, saying goodbye to Patri and heading over to where my family was in the stands.
My whole family tells me how proud they are and I think Mami takes about a thousand pictures of me and Alba and gets Alba to take some of me and her as well. I am grateful that she ignores Alexia's absence but that does not mean any of us are happy about it.
Mami is frustrated, angry maybe and that is evident in the way she scans the stadium every few minutes and shakes her head or releases disappointed sighs every once in a while.
Alba is sad and it is obvious because she makes no effort to hide the tears that brim in her eyes behind her smile. She tells me it is proud but I know when she looks longingly over to where Alexia should be standing beside me that she is just as upset as I am.
I am offended but I do my best to hide my emotions. I try to be as happy as I can because I am somewhat exhilarated from the experience despite sitting on the bench for the full 90 minutes.
Keira and Ona were being rested for the whole match and it turns out that Keira is hilarious and Ona can provide the best commentary on any match. They are a good pairing and I enjoyed making fun of Keira as she struggled to keep up with our (very slow) Spanish.
I am definitely looking forward to playing at some point. The thought makes me so incredibly nervous but I don't think there will be a better feeling than finally stepping out onto that field with my name on my back and representing my childhood club.
Mami holds me in her arms after she's satisfied with the pictures and I feel a tear drop onto my head.
"I am so proud of you, nina, you have made me proud from the day you were born and you will continue forever. This is just the start of everything. Papi is looking down on us right now with pride too, he's telling all his friends that you are his baby bear and that he taught you everything you know."
I sniffle in her arms.
"Thank you for everything you have done for me Mami, I would be nothing if not for you."
"Oh, hija, I love you."
"I love you too."
Alba throws herself into the hug and proclaims it is now a group hug. Mami chuckles and extends one of her arms around her.
"Mi hermanita is all grown up!" Alba cheers quietly so only me and Mami can hear. "15 years old and in the first team, a record?"
"Only a record when I leave the bench, Alba." I whack the back of her head with my hand and she recoils from the hug in mock annoyance.
"I should go, Mami, I'll meet you out the front?"
She nods and I kiss her cheek before wandering back to the changing rooms.
I am surprised when they are empty but the sound of the showers tells me that I will not be alone for long.
It is supposed to be a happy feeling, but I can not help but feel alone in this room, full of the belongings of people who are older than me, more experienced, skilled. People who know my sister better than I do.
People who will always look up to La Reina. Who will always hang off her every word.
I wish that was me still because if it was, I would not be alone in this locker room right now, I would be celebrating with my sister.
But she is nowhere to be found.
She didn't even say hello to me, she didn't say congratulations, she didn't even acknowledge my existence. It hurts me more than I care to admit, but maybe that is what she meant when she said I was weak.
I wipe the tears out of my eyes before they spill and it is good timing because a whole group of girls walk into the locker room at the same time that Ingrid and Frido return from their showers.
"Our pequena!" Marta cheers when she sees me in my cubby and paces over to pick me up. "You are one of us now, welcome to Barca!"
Everyone cheers and a big smile takes over my face as I am thrown amongst the group of people, being hugged and patted on the back, loud yells in Spanish bouncing round the room.
Aitana holds me for longer than everyone else and whispers her congratulations in my ear.
"You need a lift home today?"
I shake my head and smile.
"Mami and Alba are taking me out to dinner."
Aitana nods and begins talking about how exciting it is that I have finally been introduced to the first team and how I have grown up and I zone out and scan the room.
The loud chatter is a far cry from the near silence that engulfed the room five minutes ago.
I spot Mapi in the corner of the room speaking animatedly to Ingrid.
Frido is also there, laughing with Caro and Marta
Jana is beside Bruna, a giddy smile on her face as they chat to Esmee.
That can only mean one thing, Alexia is somewhere in here but I do not want to speak to her. I do not want to see her and I do not want her to see me. I excuse myself from Aitana to quickly grab my change of clothes and I go over to the showers, spending the longest possible time rinsing myself and washing my hair and an even longer time drying myself and getting changed.
I spend a humiliating amount of time in the stall but I do not hear anyone else come into the bathroom so I don't really think anyone had noticed.
If I had known what was been waiting for me when I opened the door of my stall I probably wouldn't have opened it.
Because the bleached blonde hair was the first thing I clocked, but her confidence oozed out of her as she leant against the wall, her arms crossed, her head resting against the blue paint like she was bored.
I don't say anything when I see her, trying my luck by just walking straight past her but her hand reaches out and stops me from leaving.
"No, Elena, don't run away from me."
"What do you want from me, Alexia?"
She let out an exhale and her features softened slightly. I look down at her feet, willing myself to not make eye contact.
"Why did I find out you had joined my team through a post on Instagram?"
I roll my eyes and shrug my shoulders, making an unintelligible sound that tells her that I do not know and I do not care. I try to leave again but she just stops me again.
"Why do I not know anything about you anymore? Why did Mapi find you in the middle of the park near her house last night when you should have been in bed like Mami thought?"
At least Mapi didn't say anything. I was worried, she is terrible at keeping secrets.
I just scoff because I don't know how else to react to the irony.
"Where is your girlfriend?"
She sighs.
"Olga is in the changing room with the others. You can meet her if you would like."
"I do not want to meet her."
"Then why did you ask?"
"I just wanted to confirm it wasn't just another one of Alba's rumours. You never told me."
I am proud that my voice doesn't falter, that it doesn't break. It is calm, level, despite the emotions that are raging inside of me.
"And whose fault is that?"
I roll my eyes but I avoid saying anything. She hesitated before continuing.
"We were best friends Elena, what even happened? Why did you stop talking to me, why did you start skipping our thursday night dinners?"
I scoff as she tries to make eye contact.
"I am not having this conversation now, Alexia. This is supposed to be a happy day but you are ruining it. You don't remember, that is the problem."
"I should be part of this day with you. I am your captain now."
I hold back a laugh.
"yes, captain, anything you say captain." I salute her weakly and turn around to leave, pushing past her outstretched arm.
Mapi looks at me cautiously as I walk back into the changing rooms but she is chatting with Olga and I do not want to have any interaction with her. I wave goodbye to her and Ingrid and say goodbye to a few of the others.
"What did she say?" Aitana had walked out with me and had apparently seen Alexia enter the showers earlier as well.
"That she is my captain now." I don't think I will ever forget her coldness.
"She is also your sister, Lena, she must be proud?"
If she is she has not shown it.
"She is my captain before she is my sister." My voice is monotone and I stare straight ahead of me. "Football always comes before family. It always has for Alexia."
Aitana shakes her head.
"It should not, it is not healthy."
I can't help but agree with the midfielder beside me.
~~~~~~
Dinner with Mami and Alba is nice, although I shouldn't have expected the topic of my oldest sister to be completely neglected the whole evening. Thankfully, she waits until we are all in the car driving home to bring it up.
"Your sister should have been there today, Elena." She makes eye contact with me through the rear view mirror and I look away.
"There are many things she should have done but didn't." I mumble quietly so Mami can't hear me, but Alba does and she looks back at me weirdly.
"Alexia said she was going to talk to you, she told us how proud she was and I said that you would want to hear her say it to you."
"She's... proud of me?" My voice is soft and I can see my mother's eyebrows furrow in the mirror.
"Of course she is, you are her baby sister and you have just joined her team. She was upset that you didn't tell her and I don't think she really understood why but, Lena, she was practically crying. She is a very proud big sister. I told her to come with us tonight and she seemed keen, said she would meet you in the changerooms and come out with you."
"Why does she tell you all this but when she talks to me she is so cold?" My voice is barely a whisper yet both Mami and Alba hear me loud and clear.
"She went to meet you in the dressing room, she was excited for you to meet Olga and Olga was excited as well. What did she say to you?" Mami frowns, her eyes flickering over to Alba who also had creases in her forehead.
I shrug.
"She asked me why I didn't tell her that I had joined, why she doesn't know anything about my life anymore. She said she was my captain, she should be part of my life. I think she meant my football life, not my actual one."
"What makes you say that?" Alba is the one who speaks because Mami looks devastated.
I look around dramatically. "If she wanted to be part of my actual life she would be here right now, no?"
Alba runs her hands over her face in frustration but I don't think she is frustrated at me. Just the situation. I think it has upset Alba more than anyone else and I feel guilty.
"Sorry."
"No, hermanita, this is not your fault, I just don't understand what is going through Alexia's head."
"It's ok, Alba, Mami. I don't mind. Really, I don't."
Mami just shakes her head. She is not happy and she clearly does mind.
"No, you and your sister need to sort this out, pequena, I simply cannot stand it any more. You will be home for dinner this Thursday and you will talk about it."
"But I have train-" I am interrupted.
"No you do not, you are not playing with the B team at the moment, don't be ridiculous. You will be there and we will discuss it then. We also need to discuss what we are going to do about your school."
I groan, although the change in topic is appreciated.
"Mami! I don't want to have to go back to school because I'd rather do this." She sighs and I roll my eyes.
"La Masia has made an arrangement that will allow you to continue your classes there but your days will be rearranged. You will go to training with the first team until 2, then you will go over to La Masia and do your school classes with your peers there. They will get you a tutor to study with you in the evenings when training usually is to make up for the school you missed in the morning."
Unfortunately, Mami has always been adamant that we get a good education despite mine and Alexia's obsessions with football.
I was quick to get out of the car when we arrived home, having dropped Alba off at her apartment on the way back. I went up to my room quickly, changing into my pajamas and heading to bed quite quickly.
Mami called out to tell me that she was going to see Alexia before bed, so I sat on my phone for a while, the doors locked and my lights switched off.
But my phone was plugged in and my eyes were closed when a soft fist hit my door twice. Thinking it was just mami, I called for her to enter.
But when I registered that bleach blonde hair for the second time that day, all I felt was regret.
"I am tired, Alexia. Please, just let me sleep."
"Elena, please." I hadn't noticed the tears that dripped down her face, the slump in her usual perfect posture. Her voice cracked when she said my name. "I miss you."
"Alexia. It has been a long day, I am tired, I want to sleep. Please, Alexia. Let me sleep." I am acting immature but I am tired, and I don't want to have this conversation now.
She let out a soft exhale, stepping towards me and placing a kiss on the side of my head that is exposed to the air.
I try to ignore the warm shivers it sends down my spine, it has been so long since she did that; since she did something she used to do every night.
She walks slowly back to the door, stopping as she reaches it and resting her hand on the door handle.
"Mami says you don't think I am proud of you. It is not true. I am so proud of you and I love you, pequena. But I don't think you need me anymore, I think you're fine without me. I am sorry, Elena. I am sorry for not being there for you when I should have been, but I will take a step back. I am so proud of you."
She pushed down the door handle and was gone just as quickly as she came and I resisted the urge to call out and tell her she had got it all wrong. I want her to take a step forward, she has already taken a step back. She has already taken 50 steps back.
I need her. More than anything.
But I can't rely on her. I can not be weak in front of her.
I am a Putellas. I can not be weak.
She has to be right. I am fine without her.
~~~~~~
She is still home when I walk downstairs in the morning, her eyes puffy and hair a mess as she sits on the kitchen table with a coffee. My sigh alerts her to my presence but I turn my back on her as soon as I enter the kitchen.
"Elena, please." I don't know how I changed my sister from a leader to a beggar, but today is not the day to ask when that happened.
I pour myself a bowl of cereal silently and head straight back upstairs, locking my bedroom door and eating my breakfast before sitting down on the piano stall, my fingers immediately jumping onto the keys, improvising and experimenting with new notes, chords and rhythms.
I don't know what Mami said to Alexia when she visited last night, but to be quite honest I don't want to know. I just need to keep being ok without my older sister, no matter how much I miss her. She said I should be fine without her, so I will be.
For some reason, I neglect to consider the other words she said.
"I miss you."
"I am so proud of you."
"I love you."
I think I ignore those statements because I can't seem to grasp their validity. If she missed me, she would have seen me; she would have come to my games. If she was proud of me I would already know, she would have told me like Mami had, like Alba had. Like everyone else who is proud of me has.
If she loved me... If she loved me she would be my older sister again.
I miss her, I am proud of her and I love her. It is true and I have never once doubted those emotions.
But it feels like she is just saying what she wants me to hear. What Mami said that she should say to me. I don't think she actually means it.
How could someone who loves me tell me that I am weak?
How could someone who is proud of me tell me that she doesn't want me to achieve my dreams, that she never wants to share a shirt because I am haven't had to work for it?
I don't understand how it could be true, both things at the same time.
I curse at the tear that spills out of my eye, rubbing it away aggressively and shaking my head at myself. No. I can not be weak. Not today, not ever.
My sisters words from today, from yesterday, from three years ago spin in my mind and my fingers become more and more aggressive on the keys of my piano, my song increasing in intensity; reflecting my emotions in the only way I know how. The keys are my home, the notes are my head and the song is my heart.
Though sometimes the song sounds broken, like right now when there is so much going on. So many chords, rhythms. Increasing speed, increasing volume. My fingers moving at a million miles an hour, barely hitting one key before moving to the next.
There is so much going on that it is overwhelming, so much going on that it could just explode. Into a million pieces. So many pieces that it would be futile to even try and put them back together.
It does that sometimes, and I have to fall back down to the softness and calmness of the easy rhythms, easily sailing away from the broken song like it never even existed.
But it always existed, and it's remains will always be there at the bottom of the sea, haunting me, threatening to re-emerge.
I realise I have been grieving my sister like she has died. I grieve the death of our relationship and how it has changed so quickly and so aggressively. I miss her more than anything, but the thought of what it used to be is overwhelming, it fills me with dread, with complete sadness.
Those notes that exploded so long ago, still lying dormant somewhere, never gone, never forgotten. There are so many of them, I just wish she would help me pick them up.
My song has already exploded, so I resort to playing soft chords, tears now spilling from my eyes in a continuous stream. There are too many to wipe away and I know that my eyes will be red and my cheeks puffy when I eventually do. I have lost my sister in a way that is almost impossible to comprehend.
Because Alexia isn't dead, and somehow that makes her distance so much harder to understand, so much more hurtful.
She isn't dead, she has just decided she does not want to be a part of my life any more.
The song comes to a conclusion, and my fingers rest on the keys, my eyes staring ahead at the empty stand in front of me, trying their very best to not slip upwards towards the picture that I know hangs directly above it.
The picture of me and my family the day I was born, held in Alexia's arms as Alba tried her best to share me, both of them sitting beside Mami in bed as Papi watched on with a proud smile.
I would go back to that day in an instant if I was given the opportunity.
~~~~~~
I don't go back downstairs until I hear the front door close and Alexia's car drive away. I give it a few minutes before I actually leave the safe haven that my bedroom has become, ignoring Mami's watchful eyes as I slump onto the sofa, using the remote to switch on the tv.
I only watch it for five minutes before my mother switches it off, standing by the door and looking directly at me.
"She is confused, Elena. She doesn't know why this has all happened but she is angry with herself for not being there for you more."
I roll my eyes. Of course she doesn't remember.
"Maybe she should use her brain. Maybe she should just think."
Mami shakes her head at me, it could be in frustration, maybe disappointment. I still do not look at her.
"Maybe you could just talk to her! She doesn't know how to love you when you won't let her. She wanted you to meet Olga yesterday, but you left. She wanted to speak to you last night or this morning but you ignored her."
"But Mami, it is not my fault! It should not be up to me to fix what she has broken."
"She is trying, Elena, and at the moment that is what matters. This just can not go on, you are in the same family, the same football team! Mapi spoke to me yesterday, you know. She was practically crying, Elena, it's effecting even her."
"I never should have opened my mouth to her. Now she has involved herself in something that is not her business." My voice is poisonous and my words aggressive. I know Mapi would be heartbroken if she could hear this, she always has tried so hard to do what is best. Especially when it was about me.
I love Mapi, I always have. She never thought I did because I never gravitated towards her at training when I was little, but that was just because I thought she was another sister - she was like Alexia, always around.
When I was 11, maybe, I didn't realise how upset she got about me 'not liking her', and I had made a joke about never hanging around with Mapi. It was when she left the room that Alexia pulled me to the side harshly.
"Even if you don't like her, Elena, you have to pretend! She is my best friend and she loves you so much."
I remember looking at her with my mouth agape - I love Mapi, I always did. I was confused, it was a meaningless joke - a version of a joke I made all the time to Alexia.
Alexia didn't need to tell me to go talk to her, but I didn't know what to say when I walked out the door and found her sitting down with her back to the wall, tears pouring down her face. I explained everything and she apologised for being dramatic.
Since then, we have gotten along well and I have tried to spend time with her when I can.
It has been harder in the last couple years when I have fallen out with Alexia. They are best friends, I don't want to get in the way of that.
Mami's anger brings me right back to reality.
"That is enough, Elena! Maria only wants to help, but she can't, nobody can do anything except you and Alexia."
I resist rolling my eyes, instead releasing a huff of air.
"I'll think about it."
My arms are folded and I turn back towards the blank screen, ignoring the way Mami sighs and walks away.
It is only when I hear her door close that I let my angry facade crumble, my body shaking as I resist the tears.
I need to stop crying.
Alexia thinks I am strong enough to do everything by myself.
I need to prove to her that I can.
Maybe then she will tell me she is proud of me.
~~~~~~
this is pretty much all the prewritten stuff i have, will write more soon once my exams are done
let me know if there's anything you want to see in the next parts
#woso fanfics#woso#woso imagine#alexia putellas#alexia putellas x reader#putellas reader#fcb femení#barca femeni
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𝘁𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗱 | 𝘭𝘩43 ♔
➪ summary: after playing over 30 minutes on the ice, luke returns home to his girlfriend where he breaks down from exhaustion
➪ warnings: the rangers game from april 4 (where you know, half of their teams got booted in the first two seconds), luke being tired/upset?
➪ word count: 1.8k
➪ file type: fic
➪ sunny's notes: i lowkey forgot about this fic, oh well
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She had let herself into their apartment halfway through the second period. She had been watching from her dorm and when the first fight broke out, two seconds into the game, she knew the team was in for a wild night. As the game went on and they showed the bench and the players, she knew both her boyfriend and his brother were tired.
That’s when she made the executive decision to “break in” to their apartment and make them dinner. She was grateful that their fridge was fully stocked and she didn’t have to run back out to the grocery store. She got to work quickly, making something easy but also filling for both of them. While spaghetti and meatballs weren’t any of their favorite meals, not that she was hungry anyway, she knew they would appreciate the effort nonetheless.
When the game was over she sighed at the final score, after what they had been through tonight, they deserved the win. Worried about Luke and being one of only four defensemen on the ice, she looked to see how much time he was actually on the ice and was appalled when it read 32:49. She knew he had been tired these past few weeks, this team felt like it was on a never-ending cycle of bad luck.
She was setting the plates down moments before they walked in the door, but when she was in the bathroom, that’s when she heard them. She heard the clatter of keys and shoes and walked out immediately. Luke was attempting to stand upright, slightly leaning on his older brother. Jack looked equally tired, attempting to support both him and Luke.
She frowned as she made her way over to them, lightly grabbing onto Luke to lessen the weight on Jack’s body. He sighed in relief as he kicked his shoes off and made his way to sit down on the couch. Y/n stayed with Luke in the kitchen, walking him over to one of the chairs. With one hand she reached for his head and took the beanie he had been wearing off, using her other one to run her fingers through his damp curls.
“Why don’t you go take a shower, both of you,” Jack whined from the couch while Luke just buried his head into her shoulder.
She felt like she could cry from the exhaustion they were displaying. She knew how they got, both of them. She had been dating Luke since their freshman year of high school. She knew the ins and outs of all three Hughes brothers if she was honest, never finding it weird or alarming. His family loved her, that she knew, but when Jack came home drunk one night and threw up on her shoes, she accepted her role in the family.
“Jack you first, come on.”
She continued running a hand through her boyfriend’s curls as she gazed at the older boy on the couch. He finally sat up, giving her an annoyed look, but she only rolled her eyes and pointed to the bathroom. She could keep Luke occupied for another 20 minutes, “Hi baby.”
Luke’s eyes were closed as his head laid on her shoulder, he mumbled something incoherently and he just sighed. She untangled her fingers from his hair and started to pull off his jacket, he whined at the loss of contact but allowed her to continue her actions. She took his jacket to his room and hung it up before walking back into the kitchen and checking on the pasta.
Luke, despite being tired and his body being worn, he got up and made his way over to her in order to wrap his arms around her waist and dig his head into the crook of her neck, inhaling her fading scent. She smiled slightly, removing her one hand from the side of the pan to place on top of Luke’s, continuing to stir with the other.
It was silent up until Jack came back, who plopped onto the chair his brother had previously sat in. She looked over at him and smiled, “Do you guys want to eat in the kitchen or in the living room? We could put a movie on?”
The two nodded and made their way over to the living room as she finished plating the food and bringing it over to them, placing the plates into their laps. They each let out simultaneous soft thank yous before eating. They chose a random movie and watched it as y/n cleaned the kitchen and finished doing some laundry that had been pushed to the side.
She felt bad for both of them, both for different reasons but some the same. Mostly because of how the team was performing this year, the way that they couldn’t keep everyone off injured reserve. Yet, for Luke, it felt different. She felt more or less worried about him than bad for him. He had expectations to live up to, people to live up to, and she knew his mind all too well. She knew what he was thinking, that he wasn’t good enough.
And it wasn’t just him that thought that. They both knew about the tweets that were in response to people's comments under articles, the articles themselves about how Luke wasn’t as good as his brothers, wasn’t as good as he should be, wasn’t as good as people made him out to be. It was what Luke thought about the most.
There was clanging from the living room and then a crash. She immediately made her way out of the bedroom and looked in between Jack, who was still on the couch, the shattered plate on the floor, and Luke, who was standing in the hallway. His face looked conflicted but it morphed into one of fear and sadness.
“Hey, hey, what happened?”
“I-” Luke couldn’t bring himself to talk, both terrified and still exhausted from the game.
On the other hand, y/n’s face was calm and Jack’s face was sad with a hint of anger in his eyes. Anger towards John and Kevin for leaving the team with four defensemen, anger towards Travis for making Luke play that long, anger towards himself for not checking in on his brother enough, and anger towards the Rangers.
“Luke, it’s okay. No one’s mad at you for dropping the plate.” Jack’s voice was soft as he stood up, slightly wobbling from his lack of balance.
The younger boy only shook his head, reaching a hand out to lean against the wall. Y/n moved forward and wrapped her arms around Luke who then slowly sank to the ground. Her left hand was placed against his head, keeping it against her chest as her right arm wrapped around him. Luke started crying, soft sobs escaping his mouth.
She looked at Jack who took the hint to walk back into his bedroom. As soon as he left, Luke voiced his thoughts, “I’m tired. I’m so tired, y/n.”
The way his voice broke almost made her choke on a sob. She bit her lip to keep her tears at bay, refusing to let Luke know how she was feeling right now. She tangled her fingers in his hair, Luke allowing the movement to calm him down a little. His harsh sobs turned into soft sniffles in a matter of minutes. She was the only one who could soothe him like this besides his mom.
Lifting his head, he dug it back into the crook of her neck. She kissed his head and continued to run her fingers through his curls like she had done earlier, using her other hand to rub circles on his back. Ten minutes had passed and she looked over at the shattered glass a few feet away from her. Her legs had started to cramp from being in the position for so long and the added weight of Luke on them made it a little worse.
“How about you go take a shower while I clean the plate, okay?”
He pulled away from her and nodded his head slightly. She aided him in standing up and watched as he made his way to the bathroom to shower. Once the door closed, she made quick work of cleaning up the mess. After she was done, she went over and knocked on Jack’s bedroom door, “Hey.”
Jack snapped his head up in surprise, “Hi.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Jack, I’ve known you for 5 years. What’s wrong?” She sat on the edge of his bed, her hands underneath her.
“I feel bad. I mean I was so excited for Luke to come to play with me but for some reason, I feel guilty. I don’t know. It just feels like I should do more for him. I didn’t want to bring up the comments, I see them too, you know.”
Her heart warmed at the words, at Jack being so worried about his little brother. She smiled a little before looking at him, “He loves you, Jack. More than you know. I cannot tell you the number of times he calls me and is like ‘Jack this’ and ‘Jack that’. You and Quinn are his idols, it’s hard to not notice that. He is so appreciative of you. And he knows there is nothing you can do about the comments that people make, it’s not your fault.”
Jack teared up a little but smiled at her, “Thank you.”
“Of course. Now come on, give me a hug.”
Jack leaned over from his spot on the bed and hugged her, “Can I say I love you or is that too weird?”
“Considering, I am betting on you becoming my sister-in-law, it’s not weird. I love you too, y/n/n.”
She heard a door close from down the hall and she pulled away and waved goodbye to Jack, making her way to her boyfriend’s room. When she walked in, Luke was lying on his bed, cuddling a pillow on his phone. She smiled at him and walked over to sit down, “Hi baby.”
He looked up at her and for the first time that night, he smiled. He reached out for her and she made herself comfortable on the bed, Luke wrapping his arms around her. In that moment, Luke was so grateful for her and all that she had done for him not only tonight but in the past five years. She had been there for him through everything and that meant the absolute world to him.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Luke. And I am so so so so proud of you for tonight.”
His smile was small but genuine, “Now go to bed.”
She kissed his forehead and the two wasted no time in falling asleep.
#sunny lune writes#nhl#hockey#nhl hockey#nhl imagine#hockey imagine#luke hughes#luke hughes imagine#luke hughes fic#lh43#luke hughes x reader#jack hughes#jh86#jack hughes x platonic!reader
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Of Dragons and Maelstroms
Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Chapter Eighty-Two
The next few weeks at Harrenhall were marked by an eerie emptiness that permeated every corner of Maera's life. All signs of Aemond had vanished from their once shared rooms. His weapons, which had always hung neatly on the walls, were gone. His books, once neatly piled across tables and shelves, were no longer there to be stumbled upon. His clothes, that had intermingled with hers in the wardrobe, had disappeared as if they had never existed. The room, and especially her bed, no longer smelled like him. The familiar scent of leather, smoke, and the faintest hint of dragon clung only to her memories now.
Their marriage, which had been a tumultuous blend of passion and conflict, now felt like a distant dream. Most evenings, Maera spent crying herself to sleep. Her tears soaked the pillow as she reached out to the empty side of the bed, her hand yearning to touch her husband who was no longer there. The ache of his absence was a heavy weight in her chest, a constant reminder of the love that had been lost. She thanked the Gods for the child growing in her belly, for it was this new life that gave her the strength to keep going. Every kick, every movement, was a reassurance that she had a reason to endure the pain.
Maera knew that this was for the best. She understood that by distancing herself from Aemond, she was shielding herself from further harm. The wounds on her heart needed time to heal, free from the tumultuous influence of her husband's presence. And yet, it was so painful. The emptiness in her room mirrored the emptiness in her heart, a void that Aemond had once filled. The knowledge that this was necessary did little to ease the sting of loneliness and the sorrow of what could have been.
She had meticulously avoided all attempts by Aemond to contact her. She ignored the persistent knocks on her door, the sound of his voice calling her name in the corridors. She counteracted these intrusions by avoiding leaving her chambers altogether, creating a sanctuary of solitude where she could shield herself from his presence.
The only reason she left her chambers was for council meetings. Knowing this, Aemond exploited her sense of duty by requesting these meetings daily. It was in his nature to be manipulative and bitter, and though he had physically kept his distance, he cloaked his cunning idea in a guise of necessity. The council meetings were his way of maintaining a connection, no matter how strained, ensuring that he could see her, even if they did not directly speak to each other.
Each day, Maera would enter the council chamber with the grace of a true princess, her head held high and her demeanor calm. She moved with a fluidity that belied the turmoil within her, each step measured and purposeful. Taking her seat next to her husband, the one-eyed Prince, she barely spared him a glance as the meeting commenced. The air between them was thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension.
Aemond, clad in his usual dark attire with the now-familiar green accents, would sit with a rigid posture, his single eye often flickering to her in moments of distraction. Each meeting was a silent battle of wills. He masked his intentions behind a facade of professionalism, his gaze often lingering on her with a mixture of longing and frustration.
Despite her awareness, there was little she could do. Her duty demanded her presence at these gatherings, and Aemond had skillfully used that to his advantage. The council, oblivious to the personal conflict playing out between the prince and princess, continued their work under the watchful eyes of their superiors, unaware of the silent war waging just beneath the surface.
However it quickly became apparent that the council shared Maera’s thoughts about the unnecessary frequency of the daily meetings. Though none of the members openly voiced their opinions, Maera noticed their exasperated sighs and the rolling of their eyes. These silent gestures mirrored her own frustrations every time she was summoned. The initial few meetings, however, were not as burdensome as Aemond had substantial updates to share with the council.
With his brother Aegon and the dragon Sunfyre gone, Kings Landing had become significantly more vulnerable. Aemond’s strategic mind had been hard at work addressing these newfound weaknesses. He had doubled the number of men in the City Watch, ensuring that the capital would be well-protected despite its losses.
Furthermore, Aemond had made decisive moves to bolster their overall military strength. He had divided the remaining army from Rook’s Rest into three parts. One third was sent to Oldtown to strengthen their defenses there, another third was allocated to reinforce the Capital, and the final third, including Ser Criston Cole, was dispatched to Harrenhal. These actions demonstrated Aemond’s keen understanding of military strategy and his commitment to securing their holdings.
These early meetings were indeed productive. The Prince’s plans were meticulously detailed and well-received by the council. Even Maera, despite her personal grievances, had to acknowledge the necessity and effectiveness of these measures.Yet, as the days passed, the meetings began to lose their substance. With fewer pressing updates and strategic decisions to be made, they started to feel more like a charade, a pretext for Aemond to be in her presence.
It was embarrassing to watch the attending lords attempt to fill the void of conversation during the later daily meetings. They resorted to discussing minor updates regarding the Westerlands army, detailing their victories and defeats over the Rivermen. The black and green pieces on the map moved ever so slightly with each passing day, each shift more perfunctory than strategic.
Maera had effectively switched off during these sessions. She found herself drumming her fingers against the arm of her chair or rubbing her swollen belly as a distraction from Aemond’s burning gaze. His intense stare was a constant presence, and she did her best to ignore it. The proceedings became a blur of mundane details and forced conversations, with Maera only half-listening.
Yet, despite her detachment, she did pick up on one significant change: Harrenhal’s guards were undergoing a restructure. Ser Willard and the other guards Maera had previously reprimanded, including her ally Lord Unwin’s nephew, were gone. The stiffness in Lord Vance’s posture and the disdain on Lord Unwin’s face were unmistakable. Maera knew that Aemond had done away with the knights. Be it by the sword, as he had originally slaughtered the people of Harrenhal, or by the flame of his dragon, the men were gone.
She couldn't help but shake her head to herself, knowing that her husband’s temper had overtaken his reason. It meant that now four capable, skilled soldiers, could not be put to use in the war effort. And thanks to Aemond’s impulsive decision, it would further strain the political alliances with the men on their council. No house would take kindly to their kin being killed. Maera’s heart ached with frustration and a sense of foreboding as she considered the ramifications of her husband’s choices, and how, undoubtedly, she would once again have to pick up the pieces after him.
Apart from the restructuring of Harrenhal's guards, there were no new updates, and thus no need for the meetings to continue. That was until one day, a piece of news arrived that changed everything. The message that reached Harrenhal was both momentous and grim: Prince Jacaerys, Rhaenyra Targaryen’s eldest son and heir, was dead. The details of what had transpired were scarce, but the council took it as a significant victory. The room buzzed with restrained triumph, but Maera felt no such emotion.
Glancing toward Aemond when the news was revealed, Maera saw a slight twitch in the corner of his lips as he attempted to hide a pleased smile. His satisfaction was palpable, but Maera? She found no joy in it. The Blacks were indeed their enemies, yet this escalation only heightened the stakes of the war, putting herself and her unborn child in even greater peril.
Empathy welled up within her once again for her half-sister-in-law. Rhaenyra had now lost another child, making it three in total. Maera could not fathom the depth of such grief; it would surely consume her if she were in Rhaenyra's place. How the woman still stood and fought was beyond Maera's comprehension. The sorrow that would have shattered Maera seemed only to fuel Rhaenyra’s resolve. There was no doubt that revenge would follow this loss. The thought chilled Maera to her core, for she knew that Rhaenyra’s retaliation would be swift and merciless. This was what Maera feared most—the inevitable cycle of vengeance that would drag them all deeper into the abyss of war.
The week following the news of Prince Jacaerys’s death, the skies around Harrenhal were littered with ravens, their wings a dark, ceaseless flurry against the gray expanse. They carried scrolls reinforcing oaths to the Greens, as well as missives from Black factions turning cloak. The old River King’s castle seemed like an aviary, the constant fluttering and cawing of ravens creating a somber symphony.
Maera observed the ravens' arrivals from various vantage points. She sat on the grass outside the castle walls, Ēbrion by her side, her eyes following each bird's descent with a mixture of curiosity and dread. She also watched from her window, her gaze distant as she wondered what news each raven brought. The scrolls they carried bore the weight of lives and loyalties, each message a fragment of the shifting allegiances in this bloody conflict of the Dance of the Dragons.
Even though most of the letters were addressed to the Prince Regent, the title Aemond was now styling himself with, one early morning, Maera received one addressed to her. Recognizing the Essosi seal, she broke it eagerly, her heart quickening with anticipation.
Sister
I hope you and the babe you carry are faring well. I pray I do not sound like father in my writings, but I hope you are listening to the advice of the Maesters and keeping yourself and the child healthy.
Maera smiled as she recognised the familiar penmanship as Dermot’s. Though she hadn’t seen her brother in years, their bond had remained strong. Growing up, they had been inseparable, and since Dermot left for his travels, they had always kept in touch through letters.
I decided to join the Essosi fleet when they ventured towards the gullet, alongside my friend, Admiral Sharako. By chance we saw another ship crossing our path. Although Pentoshi, it was guarded heavily by accompanying Velaryon ships. A touch suspicious for a mere trade ship, would you not agree?
Her brows furrowed. Concern for his safety gnawed at her. She hoped he was keeping himself out of harm’s way. And the mention of a Pentoshi ship puzzled her, prompting her to read further.
Battle ensued and we managed to board the trade ship, the Gay Abandon. To our surprise, we found two little silver-haired boys. One immediately clung to the neck of his small dragon and got away. The other only clutched a dragon egg and was terrified. The poor boy warmed to me, and revealed his name is Viserys, Princess Rhaenyra’s youngest son.
The Princess’s green eyes widened in shock and fear. It appeared that the council update from a few months prior had been true; Rhaenyra was indeed sending her youngest children to be warded. Unfortunately, by chance, the Essosi fleet had intercepted them. The realization struck her with a mix of dread and sorrow, knowing the peril these innocent children now faced in the brutal game of thrones.
It seemed though that the little Prince would not be given to us without fuss. A few days into the voyage back home, we were attacked by a green and orange winged beast, who set most of the fleet ablaze.
Oh fuck. Vermax. Maera knew the description of the beast well. Aemond spoke often about the dragon, verbalising how he should have had the beast hatch to him in his crib instead of that unworthy Strong bastard, Jacaerys. Jacaerys? Wait…
Salvation came on boats sporting a deep blue flag with a grey anchor surrounded by mist.
The fleet of Morne.
The beast flew too low, hitting one of the masts before crashing into one of the already burning galleys. The young rider leapt free, but the bowman on our ship shot him before he could be retrieved.
Gods be good, this cannot be happening.
I am sorry to inform you of such gory details via raven, Maera. I know it is grim and improper, but I thought, given your position, it was best you knew everything. I shall leave it to you to inform House Targaryen of this information.
Maera froze as she read the letter, her eyes scanning over the devastating news. Her fleet, inherited from her beloved aunt and uncle who had perished due to Aemond’s actions, was responsible for the death of Prince Jacaerys and his dragon. The realization was a heavy blow, leaving her feeling monstrous and indirectly culpable.
Panic surged through her. Her chest heaved with rapid breaths, her hands trembled as they clutched the parchment. She knew war was filled with gruesome deaths, but to be so directly linked to one left her feeling tainted and overwhelmed by guilt.
We have taken the young Prince back to Myr with us, and although technically he is a hostage of the Greens, we will treat him with the upmost kindness and respect. Unless, of course, you and your husband request…something else. But I know you, sister, and you are not so ruthless.
By the time I receive your next letter, you might have made me an uncle once more, another niece or nephew to send gifts to. I pray for a safe birth and I await your reply.
Your Brother, Dermot
As she finished, Maera tried to steady herself. She knew that Prince Viserys would be safe with her brother, that no harm would come to the boy. Yet the question Dermot posed about the potential of ending the little prince’s life stunned her. He assumed, based on knowing her well, that Maera would want no harm to come to Viserys. Still, it was horrible to think that Dermot even felt the need to ask.
Is this what war did to people? Did it turn them into monsters willing to harm children for the sake of a crown? Maera knew the answer, having seen the evidence around her. Yet she also knew that, no matter the stakes or the cost, she would never resort to such horror. Her heart ached, torn between the horror of what had happened and the resolve to protect the innocent, even in the midst of a brutal war.
Maera knew she would need to inform the council of the shocking contents of Dermot's letter. The thought weighed heavily on her, but she steadied herself and prepared to leave her chambers. As she shut the door behind her, she noticed Aemond emerging from his room across the corridor, a piece of parchment in his own hand.
For a moment, the couple paused, their eyes meeting. There was a brief flash of unspoken understanding and shared burden between them, a recognition of the gravity of their respective news. Maera's face was set in a determined expression, while Aemond's was marked by the usual sternness, tinged with a hint of something unreadable.
Without exchanging a word, they fell into step beside each other, walking side by side toward the council chambers. The silence between them was thick with tension and unspoken emotions, their footsteps echoing through the dimly lit hallways of Harrenhal. The castle's cold, grey stone walls seemed to close in around them as they walked, the distant sound of ravens and the occasional clank of armor from passing guards the only interruptions to their shared silence.
Maera's mind raced with the implications of Dermot's letter. She could feel the parchment crinkling slightly in her hand as she gripped it tightly, the weight of its contents pressing down on her. Aemond's presence beside her was both a comfort and a reminder of the fractured state of their relationship. Despite the distance between them, their fates remained intertwined.
“Is there a reason a meeting has been called so early this morning?” Lord Butterwell groaned, rubbing his face in an attempt to hide a yawn. “Some of us have not even had time to break our fast.”
The early morning light bathed the council chamber in a soft, rosy glow, the sky outside still displaying the pink hues of dawn. Though Lord Butterwell had grumbled about the early hour, it was clear the day had barely begun. The chamber itself was an imposing space, its high ceilings and stone walls giving it a grand, almost austere atmosphere.
The Lords and the Maester sat around the table, their faces etched with curiosity and mild concern. Scrolls and maps were spread across the table, remnants of previous discussions. Each man seemed to be silently questioning the necessity of this meeting, their eyes darting towards the door every few moments.
“Yes, I-“
“I have received-“
Both Aemond and Maera moved to speak at the same time, their voices overlapping awkwardly. They stopped, turning to look at each other. The moment was heavy with unspoken tension, a silent battle of wills playing out in their gazes. After a beat, Aemond gestured for Maera to speak first, his gesture a reluctant acquiescence. She nodded in thanks, though the strain between them was evident to all.
“My brother Dermot has written once more. He has provided more information regarding the death of Prince Jacaerys,” she declared as she stepped forward, her movements deliberate as she handed the piece of parchment to Lord Unwin.
“The Essosi fleet chanced upon a ship containing the young Princes, Aegon and Viserys. Aegon escaped but Viserys was taken hostage,” the Princess explained as she watched the letter be passed from hand to hand, each Lord’s expression shifting from curiosity to grim satisfaction as they read its contents. The news was clearly pleasing to them, despite its grim nature.
“Jacaerys attempted to rescue his brother but his dragon flew into one ships of my fleet.” Maera’s gaze drifted to the map of Westeros that occupied the center of the table. The map was dotted with green and black figurines, representing their forces and those of their enemies. She reached out, her fingers hovering over one of the black dragon figurines. Taking a deep breath, she picked it up, feeling the weight of its symbolism. With a solemn expression, she placed it into a wooden box containing other discarded figures.
“To then be finished off by the Essosi bowman.”
The room remained silent for a moment, the weight of the news settling over them. The Lords seemed pleased with the grim update, their faces reflecting a shared sense of grim determination. Maera, however, felt a mix of sorrow and dread. The loss of another Prince, even if it was on the enemy’s side, marked another tragic chapter in the ongoing conflict, and the stakes continued to rise with each passing day. The war was far from over, and its toll weighed heavily on her heart.
“This is an advantageous prospect,” stated Lord Unwin, granting Maera a kind smile as if knowing she was feeling conflicted about the news. “With Rhaenyra’s son being held by the Greens, we can bend her to our will.” Maera smiled back at him, only to be distracted by a scoff from Lord Vance.
“Mayhaps sending her a finger or two via raven will sway her,” he said with a cynical smirk.
Maera scowled at the aged lord, her eyes narrowing. “I needn’t remind you, my Lord, that a hostage is more valuable alive and unharmed rather than at risk of threat when it comes to negotiating with our enemies.” The room fell into an awkward silence, and Maera glanced up to see Aemond staring at her, his single violet eye showing respect and something else.
She sighed deeply and settled into her chair, placing a protective hand on her bump. She took a deep breath to steady herself, knowing Aemond also had news to share. “My Prince?” she prompted.
Aemond rose from his chair beside Maera, his movements deliberate and controlled. Reaching into the pocket of his black and green leather doublet, he pulled out a small piece of parchment. With a gesture, he offered it to Maera.
Maera stared up at him for a moment, taking in his appearance. His silver hair, straight and gleaming like moonlight, framed his sharp-featured face. The lines etched across his skin spoke of both determination and weariness. His single eye, keen and focused, bore into her with an intensity that was both familiar and unsettling.
As she reached out and took the piece of parchment, her soft fingertips brushed against his calloused palm, sending that familiar spark through her. The brief contact reignited a mix of emotions she had been trying to suppress. Shaking her head to herself, Maera unfurled it with a frown, her concern deepening as she read its contents.
Nephew,
I must congratulate you on your promotion to Prince Regent. It is the closest thing you will ever experience to being King.
If you fancy yourself a man, if you truly believe you are more than just a boy playing at war, then prove it. Come to Dragonstone and face me in single combat. Bring your sword, if you think you can manage to wield it without trembling.
I will wait for you everyday on the western shoreline, though I half expect you to shy away, as a coward would. Show the realm who you truly are, Aemond. Face me if you dare.
Daemon Targaryen, King consort.
The words were stark and direct, carrying the weight of inevitable confrontation. She immediately flicked her gaze up to her husband, who stared right back at her, his expression inscrutable. The usual fire in his eye was no longer tempered, controlled, his iris a blazing and furious violet. She did not break eye contact as she passed the letter to Lord Unwin, searching her husband’s eye for any sign of hesitation, but finding none.
“You cannot seriously be considering this?” Maera stated with a deep frown, her eyes locking onto Aemond’s.
“My uncle is a challenge I welcome,” Aemond replied coolly, his tone unwavering. “If he dares face me.”
She scoffed at Aemond’s reaction to Daemon’s challenge. The insulting letter had struck its mark, stoking Aemond’s fury and clouding his judgment. She could see the simmering rage beneath his composed exterior, the anger that threatened to boil over and drive him to rash decisions.
“And what if this is a trap?” Maera asked angrily, her voice rising slightly.
“Vhagar will see to it,” her husband replied with a shrug, casting his gaze onto the other council members. “It will be a chance to end things, once and for all.”
He approached the table with deliberate steps, looking at the map of the known world. “And since we have heard nothing from Ser Arryk, we can assume he has failed his mission.” He glanced back at Maera for a moment, his expression firm. “I will now take matters into my own hands.”
Upon hearing Ser Arryk’s name mentioned, Maera’s heart clenched painfully. It was true that no news had come, and she dreaded the possibility that her loyal protector had met his end. The pointed tone in Aemond’s words felt almost accusatory, as if he blamed her for sending Ser Arryk on the mission in the first place.
Maera fumed at Aemond, her fists clenching, but she remained composed. “What are your thoughts, my Lords?” she asked, glancing around the room. “This should be a council decision after all.”
The room fell into an awkward silence. The Lords exchanged hesitant glances, their reluctance to speak palpable in the tense atmosphere between husband and wife. No one dared to voice their thoughts on the matter, not while the undercurrent of conflict between the couple hung so heavily in the air. Maera’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table, her frustration mounting as she struggled to keep her composure
Lord Unwin broke the silence first, clearing his throat. “The Rogue Prince is hardly trustworthy,” he said, his voice steady. Maera bid him a small smile, relieved to hear someone thinking clearly.
Lord Unwin continued, his gaze shifting between Maera and Aemond. “Should any harm come to you, Prince Aemond, the line of succession would be even further at risk.”
Maester Cain nodded in agreement, his brows furrowing in concern. “I would agree. You have a dragon at your disposal, yes, but if you are ambushed, I am certain young Prince Daeron would bend the knee to Rhaenyra to save his life and that of his family.”
The Princess felt a wave of relief wash over her as her allies, Maester Cain and Lord Unwin Peake, voiced their logical reasons against Aemond accepting Daemon’s challenge. Their arguments were grounded in reason, emphasizing the broader implications of such a duel and the unnecessary risk it posed. She clung to their support, hoping their sensible advice would penetrate Aemond’s stubborn resolve.
She watched as Aemond furrowed his brow, considering the councilmen’s points. His expression was a mix of frustration and contemplation, the tension in his features revealing the internal struggle between his desire for vengeance and the practical counsel being offered.
Despite this, Maera couldn’t shake her disbelief at Aemond’s recklessness, provoked by a mere letter from Daemon. His thoughts were consumed by his own pride and the need to prove himself. He wasn’t considering his younger brother Daeron or his two-year-old nephew Maelor.
Most painfully, he wasn’t thinking about the impact this would have on Maera and the child she carried. It was selfish, and the realization stung deeply. Maera’s heart ached as she silently implored Aemond to see reason, to think beyond his own vendetta and recognize the wider consequences of his actions.
“And yet,” Lord Butterwell’s voice cut through the room, causing everyone to look at him. “Without Daemon by her side, Rhaenyra would bend the knee to the Greens and recognize Prince Maelor as the rightful heir to the throne.”
Aemond nodded along, and Maera clenched her jaw, silently praying that one of the Gods would come down from the heavens and clamp a hand over the old goat’s mouth. Her husband needed no further pushing in this dangerous direction, yet the bloodthirst amongst the men seemed difficult to match with reason.
“It is a risk, of course, my Prince,” the older Lord Vance agreed, his expression grave. “But is it one you’re willing to take?”
Maera watched Aemond’s gaze sweep around the room, taking in the supportive nods and murmurs of approval from the other Lords. His eye finally landed on her. Maera met his gaze with her forest green eyes, silently pleading with him to reconsider. Her heart pounded in her chest as she hoped against hope that her husband would heed her unspoken plea. Yet he remained unswayed.
“It is,” Aemond declared with finality in his tone. Feeling her heart sink, Maera slumped further into her seat, a wave of despair washing over her. Aemond was indeed a skilled swordsman, but he was about to venture into enemy territory and face a seasoned warrior in Daemon. She struggled to maintain her composure, knowing that her husband’s recklessness could cost them everything.
Aemond moved his hand over one of the green dragon figurines at Harrenhall, representing himself and Vhagar, and placed it on Dragonstone on the map, a finality to the movement. The room was silent as the council watched, the gesture confirming his resolve to face Daemon. “I will make my preparations at once.”
Frustrated, Maera rose from her seat, her black and golden skirts swaying as she approached the map, standing beside her husband. She felt defeated but knew there was nothing she could do to change her stubborn husband’s mind. With a resigned sigh, she acquiesced to the plan.
“Fine,” Maera said through gritted teeth. “To Dragonstone then.”
Aemond’s single violet eye met hers, a flicker of surprise and something else passing through his gaze. The room fell silent, the tension palpable as the council members exchanged uncertain glances.
Maera looked at the map and saw another green dragon figurine at Harrenhall, representing herself and Ēbrion. If Aemond thought Maera would simply wait for her husband to be slain and then have Daemon and Rhaenyra come to kill her and her child, then Aemond truly did not know her. She picked up the black figurine and placed it beside Aemond’s dragon figurine on Dragonstone.
“Both of us.”
Notes: Shiiiiiiiiiittt 👀 also it’s my birthday next week and then the first episode of S2 drops and I’m growing very impatient 😤
Tags: @0eessirk8 @magicseahorse @blue-serendipity @abecerra611 @saltedcaramelpretzel @marvelescvpe @watercolorskyy @shesjustanothergeek @thelastemzy @kckt88 @darylandbethfanforever9
Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤
#maera wylde#aemond targaryen#aemond fanfiction#aemond x oc#house targaryen#chapters#hotd aemond#hotd fanfic#house wylde#hotd helaena#ewan nation#ewan mitchell#house of the dragon season 2#house of the dragon#house of the dragon imagine#hotd season 2#hotd x reader#hotd#aemond fanfic#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond x original character
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My next weekly controversial ACOTAR post: A defense of Azriel, because if I see one more post saying he has no personality or is an incel (but also an f-boy apparently) then it’s game over
Azriel is such an interesting and complex character I think it’s an incredible shame so many readers misinterpret him just because his character is shown is small bursts rather than loud blasts. SO i’m not going to try and defend him because this man has done nothing wrong, instead I’ll provide y’all with a list of moments that prove both that Azriel DOES have a personality and that’s it’s a loveable one:
•He tells Feyre that Cassian is annoying right up front (a small thing but I appreciate it)
• He spent the night at Rita’s with Feyre, playing silly games betting on Rhys’ dating life (funny for so many reasons) and making her feel comfortable in an overwhelming situation
•Even though he’s quiet and private, he confides to Feyre he doesn’t know where he belongs after 500 years and feels he doesn’t fit in to reassure her that the feelings she’s having are normal
•He was reassuring and polite to Elain and Nesta when they first meet
•Acknowledged that it was a risk and a sacrifice for Nesta and Elain to lend them their house and was thankful rather than antagonistic or rude (*cough cough Cassian*) and met them both with a protective regard to Feyre but an open mind about their circumstances
•Is so upset by the mysogny and abuse in Illyria he straight up refuses to go there because he will not play nice and polite with these jerks like Rhys and Cas do
•In Feyre’s own words, she trusts him well enough that if Rhys was ever doing something to harm her/locking her up like Tamlin did she believes he would not only save her but deal with Rhys himself if it came to it
•Follow up on above, he spies on Amren against Rhys’ orders. When Feyre asks about it Amren says Azriel is the most disobedient of the IC (some of them could never) because he’s willing to do what is right over what Rhys thinks is right (hot)
•Gave Feyre such a stunning smile after she accepts the mating bond that Rhys is filled with jealousy and ready to attack (that is to say, this man is very pretty and deserves credit for it)
•Amren putting her head on his shoulder after battle because she’s tired and everyone (including him) is shocked but he’s polite about it and also it just radiates male worth trusting vibes
•Was literally bleeding out screaming crying throwing up poisoned and still sassed the king of Hybern for Mor and Feyre
•When Cassian is trying to make Lucien uncomfortable Azriel KICKS HIM (all the Azriel is so mean/hates Lucien people come down to reality please)
•When Cassian implies something rude about Nesta and Mor wants to join in Azriel shoots her a look to stop (yes the Az that is supposedly obsessed with Mor and her opinion of him) and Feyre describes said look as as if they had talked about it many times before so YES EVEN PRE-ACOWAR THIS MAN WAS SUPPORTING NESTA
•Feyre and Mor both agree he’s the only one with manners
•He laughed at Nesta’s sassy comment to Mor because man respects good comedy
•When Cassian makes a sexist joke and implies Az is thinking the same thing not only does Azriel not engage with his tomfoolery but Mor cuts in to defend him as the only batboy who never says such things
•Just the ENTIRE sequence of him training Feyre to fly. He’s so sweet and witty and charming
•So gentle and reassuring to Elain, offering to show her the garden and carrying her all the way up to the house
•Him taking care of Feyres injuries from the flying lessons. Again just always being so gentle and sweet. He trusts her enough not to go easy on her but isn’t cruel and overworking either
•The entire Nephelle story and just the fact Rhys gave the story to Azriel as a “gift” this boy appreciates sweet stories about underdog lesbians with wings and I love it
•Just him paying such close careful attention to Elain and recognizing she is a seer, him talking her through her visions and helping reassure her she’s not crazy (he knows what that feels like)
•Even though he hates Illyrians, he helps Cassian break the news to the families of those who lost warriors in the war
•Just “I don’t see you spouting poetry brother” “I don’t need to resort to it😩🔥”
•BE CAREFUL HOW YOU SPEAK ABOUT MY HIGH LADY
•Eris uttered the word “slut” about a woman and this man ATTACKED. Like I am an Eris stan and I know some people don’t like this scene but it’s the true feminist energy I need
•Ignoring Rhys’ order to stand down but stopping the second Feyre says something bc this man respects women’s authority (t’s literally an intentional way of demonstrating Feyres power right after she was belittled by Tamlin. people act like he was rabid in this scene but it seems so clear to me he was intentionally doing this to support his high lady)
•Was the first to realize something was wrong with Elain (also has a sweet exchange of looks with Nesta over it, like they are homegirl’s designated protectors)
•Just EVERYTHING about him volunteering to get Elain back. Whether you ship Elriel or not this was such a sweet moment. He doesn’t hesitate at all even when Nesta says it’s a death wish and everyone’s sentiment starts to change.
•Everything about him saving Elain and the human girl. Just 10/10 all around, hot, stunning, sweet, incredible, precious angel of death boy
•Az is so badly wounded after the rescue mission that Rhys and the others who see him are shocked but he refused to set Elain down (even though she’s not hurt) until Rhys takes her and the first thing he asks is for Helion to come unchain her (not anything for himself). Again just SOOO sweet and caring whether you ship Elriel or not
•Another Elriel moment but well they happen, Az giving her truth teller is just🤧 he’s never lent out this blade to his brothers or anyone else, we know it has some special brand of magic and he likely does too and he offers it to Elain to give her a sense of safety (again even if you don’t ship them it’s just so considerate)
•”Chain me to a tree Rhys, I’ll rip it out of the ground and fly with it on my damned back” LIKE TELL ME THAT ISNT HOT
•A super small moment but after the war when the boys are watching the sisters/Mor laughing and Rhys starts crying Az tells him “it’s real” and I just think the intuitive understanding and care behind that is so sweet (especially when Az is so misunderstood by his brothers)
•This sounds more like a hate comment to Rhys/Cassian than pro Az but when Rhys admits he and Cassian used to beat Azriel for hours to get him to speak to them and he never would, I think that’s such crazy determination and resolve and also he’s wayyyyy nicer than me for still putting up with them after that
•HIM REFUSING TO SPY ON LUCIEN. I just love that degree of respect it’s made even better by the fact Rhys asks about Lucien a second time bc he literally assumes Az was joking and Azriel’s just like “nope not doing it” (again people who say he hates Lucien, please)
•Him finding drunk Cassian and Feyre and trying to fix their terrible decorations the just chugging some wine himself😭 he’s so funny AND sweet
•”Sit, I’ll take care of it.” I NEED THIS ENERGY FROM EVERY MAN EVER PLEASE
•Also him telling everyone to wait for Elain because she’s literally the one who cooked and them eating before her would be rude and I just IWJDKWKDN again so hot and polite and it’s not even a romance/flirting thing bc when Elain comes back and she/Cas give him the opportunity to take credit he doesn’t at all?? He just did it because it’s right and proper
•Him insulting Amren to defend Elain (and then blushing when everyone laughs at his joke) he’s precious (and funny af)
•Him dying at Elains gift JMEKXNEKD the IC stresses him fr and he’s waiting for someone to free him
•Him being nice about Mor’s awful gifts even though she’s known him for 500 years and still gets him awful gifts and also exchanges lingerie with Cassian to his (and Nesta’s) face even though she thinks Az is in love with her
•Half compliment to Az half complaint about Cassian, but when there’s mention of all the universe research Rhys does in ACOSF Cassians like “Rhys told him and he instantly forgot” but As is super interested and listens intently and wants to learn more and I just love a boy with hobbies and interests😩
•Small thing but when he first sees Nes in the house of wind in ACOSF he smiles and is so polite and Nesta tells us for like a whole paragraph how beautiful he is and I trust that woman above all
•Also in reference to the above, Nesta chats with Az for like 10 seconds and instantly wants to train with him over Cas because she knows he’d be better to her
•Azriel blushing when Nesta calls him pretty✨ (such a sweet lover boy I swear)
•He laughs at Nesta’s insults to Cassian but holds back from laughing at Cassians✨
•The only one who literally JUST ASKS why Nesta won’t train and also sparks the idea in Cassians obtuse head that it might be because she doesn’t want to train in Illyria (VALID)
•I know people have mixed takes about how the scene is written but him asking Nesta if she was pushed down the stairs feels genuine to me, like he asks the question very pointedly serious and focuses just on Nesta, his vague amusement after is only in regard to Cassians dumb reaction but the fact he asked her and the way in which he does it (ignoring Cassians input and still waiting for Nesta’s answer) shows genuine consideration to her (still a stranger to him for all intents and purposes) over his brother’s feelings
•Him paying such careful attention to Nesta and being the only one who never starts fights with her to such a strong degree that even Nesta feels too seen by him
•Such a basic thing (but it’s not when you look at the quality of other ACOTAR men unfortunately) but when Cassian asks him if he wants kids he says it’s not his decision (like this is why I hate the anti-elriel “elain can’t bare his children” argument, I assure you Az does not gaf)
•”Azriel had never said a bad word about Nesta” and i’m not supposed to stan???
•Also the fact he doesn’t like hand to hand combat bc he doesn’t like getting covered in people’s sweat JEKKDKW I know it’s just a gag Cas jokes about but there’s something so funny and refined about that
•Him being so competitive is hot honestly😩 especially how Cassian describes it as not being in an arrogant or scary way but in a very strategic sort of manner, how he’s often the only one who can compete with Rhys (who was trained for this stuff since birth) like YES
•Az getting flustered and awkwardly walking away when he sees how Nesta is staring at him and Cas KEKKDKE i so highly appreciate his balance between confident and shy boy
•Him and Nesta smiling about Cassians stupidity, being “allies against his insanity,” again, Az just being a friend to her is so sweet (and important given it’s like the one thing Nesta needed in this book)
•Not only does he vote with Cas against keeping things from Nes but when Amren starts saying lewd things about her it’s Azriel (not Cassian bc apparently he could never) who tells her to STFU about Nesta
•Amren tells the boys NOT to touch the sword and Az is legit the only one who tries to listen (the ONLY bat boy with brain cells half the time)
•Just the fact that once he starts training the Priestesses with Cas Nesta notes a bunch of them seem to have crushes on him. Like these girls who have been so traumatized by men they can barely stand to be in public feel that comfortable with him so quickly, he just radiates safe energy
•Also a small moment but him awkwardly smiling the first time he sees Gwyn at training and just trying to act casual to not make her feel weird is so sweet.
•Him dancing with Nesta “as easily as breathing” (again, their friendship means everything to me)
•When Nesta asks him why he came to solstice if seeing Elain/Lucien hurts him and he says “Because Rhys wants me here and it’d hurt him if I didn’t come” like HEJEKNDO he’s so selfless for the people he cares about FR (especially given how Rhys talks to him that same night)
•EVERYTHING about his gift to Nesta. The fact he didn’t have to give her one in the first place (it was no one’s expectation, including hers. on the surface he didn’t even get Elain a gift so it wasn’t just a polite thing). The way the gift is literally SO SWEET AND GENUINELY THOUGHTFUL like he took care not just to get her something but to get her something that would bring her joy and be useful (and is definitely based on his observations about her avoiding the fireplace)
•ALSO when she hugs him the entire room goes silent because they’re just that shocked but he just laughs and hugs her gently and then is blushing after like ANDKEKD
•The entire relationship he forms with Gwyn and how he notes shes competitive and uses that to help inspire her in training and even when he’s teasing her he’s so potently rooting for her too
•Him being nervous about holding baby Nyx with his scarred hands like this precious angel IEKKDKW
Most Offending Thing, His Bonus Chapter (the good and the bad)
•Him scheming about a snowball fight for a whole year is hilarious
•Also him including in his plotting that Cassian would be up all night with Nesta (little did he know his boy only lasts like one round, that and Cassian being so horrified at the thought of Az finding out about him being quick off the mark with Nesta, I just know Az is the stamina king)
•Even his shadows just want him to sleep but your boy is too depressed
•I’m sorry but everything about his and Elains almost kiss is HOT people who think it was overly sexualized or something have missed all the first thoughts we get from like every SJM boy about their LI (ROWAN IN QOS FR) and also the fact that this tension has obviously been brewing for a while??? he’s been avoiding her because it’s that palpable and ELAIN KNOWS IT. it’s a mutual thing it doesnt mean there isn’t romance beneath it or that he’s a creep for wanting her after a year of putting off his feelings
Brief interlude, his offending lines:
•”My two brothers are with two of those sisters but the third was given to another” - the language here might make you uncomfortable but that’s because MATING BONDS ARE UNCOMFORTABLE. we’re told by Rhys himself that they’re often used to “give” a female to a male. the distinction he makes here that Feyre/Nes are “with” Rhys/Cas but Elain was “given” to Lucien is because Elucien is the only mating bond example we’ve followed in this series where the foundation is not love and choice. Azriel does not feel entitled/think he deserves Elain. In this same chapter he feels unworthy to even touch her, stands outside in the freezing cold until he’s “again nothing at all.” Mor tells us all the way back in ACOMAF that he feels completely undeserving of love. Azriel does not think he deserves Elain just because Rhys said so (Az LITERALLY glares at him for saying it). Azriel brought up a valid point (that other characters have too) that the Archeron sisters (who have comparable power) would makes sense all mated to the bat boys (again, comparable power) since we know that’s a crux of mating bonds. Not to mention, Azriel and Elain genuinely just like each other and always have, more so than any of the mated couples even. From a logical standpoint, they would make sense as mates. Even this ships haters say they would be “too predictable/obvious” like SO YOU AGREE THEY MAKE EASY LOGICAL SENSE that’s what Az is implying.
•”Lucien will never be good enough for her” I’ve seen a lot of people use this line to say Az hates/drags Lucien but that’s not how I interpret it at all. First off, all of Az’s other actions (i’ve listed some above) show he’s actually very considerate of/trusting in regards to Lucien. This line to me reads less as “lucien is a bad/undeserving person” and more “Lucien is not what Elain wants” (right after he says she has no interest in him). From Azriel’s POV (and ours my fellow readers) Lucien has done nothing to win over Elain. Yes he’s been polite and I applaud him for that over others actions with their mates (cough cough Cassian) but he’s also never sought her out for a real conversation about the bond, never had any sort of “clicking” moment with her, and still after years just makes her uncomfortable (as far as we and Az know). I think it makes perfect sense to infer from this Lucien is not “good enough” in regards to what Elain is seeking (I think the easiest way I can put this is the idea of “somebody can be perfect but still not perfect for you”). Is Azriel’s opinion a little biased? Yes FS, but also this girl was about to let him do filthy things to her down the hall from Lucien, I say it’s pretty safe for him to infer that she doesn’t want Lucien (and therefor never will).
•”He hadn’t gotten that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to” - I won’t repeat what I said above regarding the sexual undertones in the chapter, but also the reason why Az hadn’t thought beyond this is in the chapter and it’s not because he’s some fuck boy. AZRIEL KNOWS HE CANT HAVE A FUTURE WITH ELAIN AND DOESNT THINK HE DESERVES IT. It’s written all over their interactions together. He wanted to kiss her to have a piece of her to hold onto, not because he thinks he can have a future with her because he knows as things stand he can’t. He doesn’t want to plan to push her/seduce her (like rhys implies) or anything because he doesn’t feel worthy of her and knows circumstances won’t allow them to be together safely. What’s driving him crazy and keeping him up at night with fantasies is that they do both want each other, but imagining a life where they could have more than that and be happy together is impossible for Az because he’s someone who has never prioritized his happiness and does not expect it.
•”I’ll defeat him with little effort.” - Again reading comprehension I beg, this is not a diss against Lucien. If Lucien was the type of guy to invoke a blood duel because Elain chose Azriel (Lucien wouldn’t, Azriel doesn’t even think he would it’s Rhys who suggests it) then YEAH AZ CAN KICK HIS ASS WITH LITTLE EFFORT BC THAT WOULD BE A CRAPPY THING TO DO.
Back to our regularly scheduled programming
•I LOVE everything about his scene with Gwyn on the roof. His vague awkwardness, his teasing of her and trying to be polite, him actually trying to help her train (after we learn Cas has been useless, go figure), and just being so sweet and kind to her in general even though he’s probably still incredibly sad/upset🤧
•This precious boy gets a small urge to cross his arms and is thrown into a PTSD flashback of his father with his mom??? He constantly consciously makes effort not to appear scary/threatening to women because he’s that scarred from his fathers behavior😭
•Listen, I won’t try to entirely defend the necklace thing because I do think it’s weird no matter who you ship Azriel with BUT i will say my best take on it is that it’s a version of self harm/sabotage. Like the only thing that makes sense to me here is he’s subconsciously creating barriers in his relationships with both Elain/Gwyn by doing this which is honestly way less f-boy (a weird take i’ve seen from people, especially given at this point he has no plans to pursue either Elain or Gwyn) and just way more very sad.
FINALLY, sprinkles from HOFAS:
•He’s so FINE in this book
•His silly little things like kicking rocks while trailing Nesta and Bryce to make a point are SO funny
•Him and Nesta working so well together, may not be a point in his favor but it makes me happy
•Azriel loving and defending his mom✨
•Azriel barely snapping at Nesta and then immediately apologizing and saying he loves her. THAT is more emotional intelligence than any other male in ACOTAR has shown
•Him liking club music but also being embarrassed about it? Adorable
•Everything about his interactions with Bryce in this book strike me so hard because you can tell he’s trying to keep his guard up but still has a lot of sympathy for her. I think that gets to the core of who Az is: smart and distant and guarded but also genuinely kind above all
•Also so many small funny little jokes and lines
I COULD PROBABLY SAY MORE AND GO ON FOREVER BUT HOPEFULLY PEOPLE GET THE POINT :)
#a court of thorns and roses#acotar#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#azriel#pro azriel#my sweet angel boy forever#elriel#nezriel#anti cassian#anti rhysand#anti amren#anti IC minus azriel honestly#pro azriel acotar
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thought this place was empty.
— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader
— type: ficlet (part of a series)
— summary: billy finds you at a house in hawkins.
— tags: billy being infatuated with you just a lil
— tw: none
— word count: 1,984
— a/n: i love u ethel cain, tysm for the constant inspo; preacher's daughter is so amazing.
ooh i like this one, yes i do. i think this is the start of something good.
billy isn't going to be portrayed by me the same way he was in thoroughfare. he's an adult now & has grown into a man. i'm not saying he won't come off as a tad cocky at times, but he's going to be far more mature in this series.
He doesn't know why he cares so damn much. Why it piques his curiosity to begin with. But it does.
He'd, for the last two weeks, passed you every day on his way home from work.
You'd walk along the side of the road, before eventually turning off to the right, heading up a dirt path through the woods.
He wanted to know what was out there now. Some meadow? A swimming hole? A treehouse? He'd come up with many theories while sitting at home alone, having a microwavable dinner and a cold beer at the end of the night, hardly paying attention to whatever b-movie was playing on the little antenna color TV in front of him.
No. You were what he thought of. To an annoying level. He'd screwed up brake calipers one day at work with you on his mind. After that, he began to resent you a little. Some random girl with a backpack on her shoulders and no knowledge that he even existed.
He'd not even gotten to set eyes on your face yet. He'd taken in everything else he could, however.
Your long hair, tanned skin, the dresses and shorts you usually opted for in terms of attire, the bracelets that littered your wrists.
He would never, never admit to having gotten off one night in bed thinking about your tight backside swaying as you took step after step atop the same asphalt his tires rolled along. In truth, before that night, he couldn't remember the last time he'd bothered touching himself at all.
Once high school ended, and his father was no longer responsible for him, he'd been kicked out near-immediately and he'd changed as a person not long after. It'd been time to grow up. No more games.
He had crashed at this friend's place or that one's. Eventually, a homeless shelter or two. He worked odd-jobs until he saved up enough to begin renting an apartment. And then he found full-time employment at a mechanic shop. He stayed mostly to himself. The work was steady, the paychecks not usually all that much, but he saved little-by-little what he could, until he'd had enough for a down-payment on a fixer-upper on the outskirts of town.
He didn't want to live anywhere near where his father was.
He didn't mind the extra time it tacked onto his commute every day. Enjoyed it, really. It gave him time to think. Not that he wasn't always.
So, to get his head to quiet, he threw himself into work while at the shop, and into his new house once he was home every evening. The roof needed patching, the wiring re-done, the front steps replacing, the paint was chipping from the walls. The list was damn-near endless. But he liked that. It gave him something to do. His hands stayed occupied, if nothing else.
He earned a few more calluses in time from it all. He'd wondered once what you might think about a man with rough hands. Then wondered even more why the fuck he cared in the first place.
He didn't even know your name. And he was almost certain you were still in school. Unless you just liked carrying a backpack everywhere. Perhaps you went into those tall trees to camp. Perhaps a lot of things.
It's a Thursday when he finally decides to do it—follow you. Out of boredom, if nothing else. Or, that's the reasoning he gives himself, at least.
In truth, he wanted to know you. Ask you more questions than he was sure any normal person would probably be comfortable with. He wanted to see what was out here in the wilderness that seemed to draw you in so much that you returned day-after-day.
Then again, maybe you were meeting someone. A boyfriend, a girlfriend—a lover.
The thought makes his heart squeeze, which makes him feel just the least bit pathetic. He was no longer the boy he once was. The one that all other guys at Hawkins High wished to be, and all the girls there wished to be with. He'd become an after-thought to all of them now, he was sure. His glory days were long behind him.
But perhaps new memories could still be made.
The Camaro's tires crunch over twigs and dried leaves, rolling slowly between swaying trees of green, the path becoming more and more narrow until there's no place left for him to even turn around. He sighs, knowing he'll have to reverse the entire way back out of here.
He puts the sedan into park, exiting, his arms resting on the top of the car and the door frame as he gazes ahead, wondering what direction you'd possibly gone. He shakes his head then, closing and locking the driver's side door, pocketing his keys before—at least attempting, to follow after you.
The forest is littered with trees all around, Billy winding his way through them, looking back over his shoulder occasionally, wondering if he shouldn't head back to his car and go home. You were long gone by now. Maybe you'd already circled back around yourself, heading out and to...wherever it is that you live.
This was a stupid idea. Not that he hasn't had worse.
Just as he's ready to throw in the towel and settle for you remaining a mystery to him—perhaps he'd take the alternative of having answers to instead making up tales about you, who you are, where you go, and what you do when you get there—he comes into a clearing of tall grass, a rusted steel windmill in the distance, and a two-story house that looks just a tad dilapidated to the right of it.
Surely you weren't in there?
He continues walking, glad he's wearing pants as the weeds brush against his knees. He climbs the broken front steps, the wooden banisters rotting, until he's standing before a screen door at the front of the home—or, rather, house. A home at one time to someone, he was sure. But no longer, as it'd been clearly abandoned long-ago.
He raises his fist, wondering if maybe he should knock first, then lowers it.
He pulls the door toward him, stepping inside.
He takes a moment to look around first, glancing to each side of the empty domicile. A dining room is to his right, with a table that carpenter bees have clearly been making a meal out of for some time, and a sitting room to the left, an old sofa with missing cushions in the middle of it, a coffee table covered in dust before it.
He then heads for the staircase that lies straight-ahead.
The steps creak under his heavy boots, and he fears one of his feet may just fall through one if he doesn't step carefully. Once he's reached the second-story landing, he lets loose a small breath of relief.
He turns to his left and sees a long hallway, multiple doors on either side, some open, some closed, the summer sun shining against fading yellow wallpaper through open and broken windows within the rooms.
"Hello?" He calls, only half-expecting a response...which he's not given.
He begins to head down the hall, only peeking into the rooms as he passes them, looking for you.
"Anybody here?" He tries again, and is once again met with silence; only the sound of a gentle breeze outside greets him.
He stops when he finds a room three doors down on his right that has a dirty mattress on the floor. He doesn't want to imagine the things you'd discover—new kinds of bacteria—if you took a blacklight to it.
He stands in the middle of what he assumes used to be a bedroom, hands on his hips, and he looks to the open window at his right, a soft wind causing the tattered curtains to billow.
And then he hears it. A small creak to his left, and it's only then that he realizes there's a closet, with double doors, and he sees something shift on the other side through the wooden slits.
His heart begins to beat a bit faster as he comes closer, hands resting over the small knobs, and when he pulls it open, you're standing in the middle, back against the wall, staring up at him with wide eyes.
He looks down at you, heart skipping a beat, breath taken from him for just a moment at the sight of you. You were...beautiful.
"What're you hiding in a closet for?" He asks, then kicking himself. Hell of an opening, Billy.
Your brows furrow, wondering how it's not obvious. "I was hiding from you. Who...who are you?"
You take a step toward him and he takes one back.
He slides his hands into his pockets. "Billy...Hargrove. I live just-"
"I don't care. Why are you here?"
He raises a brow. Not quite the meek little mouse he'd initially assumed, then.
He takes a look around before settling his eyes back on you once again. "Thought this place was empty."
"Well...I'm here. I found it first."
His lip twitches. "So, this is where you've been coming every day for two weeks, huh?"
You shift uncomfortably. "How do you know that...?"
He jerks his head. "Saw you on my drive home last couple of weeks." He reaches up with his right hand then, running it over the curls at the back of his head nervously. "I got curious, I guess. About what was out here that was so interesting to make you keep coming back over and over again."
He looks back to the mattress, then to you. "You don't sleep here, do you, kid?"
You cross your arms at the infantilizing term. "I don't see how that's any of your business. Now that you know what's out here, feel free to leave."
He smirks. You were a firecracker. That much was for certain. Almost reminds him of himself once upon a time.
"Place looks like it should be condemned. If not tore down altogether."
You balk then. "You won't tell anyone. Will you?"
He shakes his head. "No. But, you do know it's not safe for you here, right? All alone like th-"
You pick up your backpack, shrugging it on. "I'm fine."
You head into another room, trying to get away from him—or, rather, hoping he'll finally get the hint that you'd like for him to leave—and he follows along behind you.
"Never told me your name."
You roll your eyes and stay silent.
He nods. "Strong, silent type, I get it. Guess I'll just have to guess. Is it-"
You turn back to him then, and he nearly trips trying not to fall against you. "Y/N."
He smiles. "Nice to meet you, Y/N."
You cock your head to the side for a moment. "I doubt it."
You head into another room then, slamming the door in his face.
He just grins as he turns the handle...and discovers it's now locked from the other side, smile falling.
He knocks then and is, of course, given no response.
He leans against the wall with his shoulder, arms crossed and he licks his lips. "I can wait all day. Got no place better to be."
All is quiet, until he hears something being shoved open on the other side of the door—a window? And then a thump.
Were...were you climbing down the side of the damn house?
He turns the handle again to no avail, so he then quickly walks down the hall, racing down the steps, and when he rounds the side of the house, he sees you jogging through the tall weeds, backpack bouncing as you disappear into the tree line.
He crosses his arms, smiling, shaking his head. "See you tomorrow, Y/N," he mutters to himself before turning around to start heading back to his car.
#fic: stranger things (billy hargrove x reader)#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove imagine#billy hargrove x female reader#billy hargrove x y/n#billy hargrove x you#stranger things x y/n#stranger things x you#stranger things x reader
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LARRY & LAWRIE HEADCANONS #3
(Headcanons after the cut, I ramble for a bit)
*head pops out of grave* I'M ALIVEEE
Yeah I know I say this in practically every post but I finally got something again! school and other stuff kicked my ass and honestly i wasn't sure how interested really was in making these until I missed them! So while I can't guarantee any consistent posting knowing me, I can at least say that I do plan to keep doing these and I'm hoping to branch out into other fandoms so that me making these doesn't fully depend on me having a Brawl Stars hyperfixation.
Anyways as a sort of apology for the lack of content, I bring you the follow up I know many have been waiting for: LARRY AND LAWRIE PART 3 BABY!
Hope you enjoy!
Fair warning: this one may be a small bit angsty in some spots. Nothing that would need an actual warning but didn't want to jumpscare y'all with surprise sadness.
Larry based, Lawrie based, both
•Larry's most rebellious action would be putting a soda can in the non-recycling bin... Then feeling extremely guilty and fishing it back out to put it in the correct bin when no one is looking.
•Lawrie has an apocalypse bunker hidden somewhere in the park. It's only for them, Larry, and RT.
•Lawrie likes Bob Ross! They don't like to paint all that much though. Larry does like painting but he's really bad at it.
•They've never been outside the park before. Lawrie is pretty content with that fact and doesn't want to leave, but Larry wants to see what's out there and occasionally asks parkgoers about it.
•Larry gets along well with animals (add this and the last one and Larry is a fricking Disney princess- /j)
•Lawrie is the exact opposite, all animals hate them and they hate all animals in return.
•As somewhat implied already, Lawrie is kind of leaning towards a "hate all biological life" mindset. They don't actually full-on hate lifeforms entirely, but people don't really like them so they don't like people, that kind of deal. This leads Lawrie to sometimes say stuff teetering on the "kill all humans" line but Larry calls it out and Lawrie would always agree they're going a bit too far.
•Larry as usual is the opposite. He finds life and people to be so interesting and envies their experiences. They even somewhat avoid hanging out with other robots because it reminds him that he's also just a robot, though he doesn't even realize this thought process. He would never admit it, but he kind of wishes he was human. Lawrie can sense this so it causes some arguments between the two.
•On a more light-hearted note, Larry has a bit of a crush on Melodie! She's very pretty, sings beautifully, and does whatever she wants and says anything on her mind, all of which Larry loves and admires.
•Out of all the people in the park, Lawrie gets along with Draco and Hank the best. Draco is more of a frien-emy that can get on their nerves a lot but they have a lot of similar interests like music taste. And Hank is a semi-friendly rival.
•Larry, Lawrie, and R-T were all made on the same day. When it comes to the birthday though they celebrate it as R-T's day cause they just love their "baby" sibling. (Plus in Lawrie's case they just don't like the idea of having their own birthday)
•Larry is scared of Cordelius. He just gives them the creeps and somehow always manages to accidentally sneak up on Larry. (Same goes for Lily)
•Larry has a notebook they carry around to do made up math problems in when they're bored.
•Lawrie usually never wishes they could eat food, but he does wish he could try chocolate.
•They tend to play "road trip" games when they're bored on a patrol together. Things like Eye Spy, 20 Questions, Alphabet Game, etc. They both really enjoy it!
•They also listen to true crime podcast together.
And that's all I got for now! Thank you for reading this far!! As always if you'd like more let me know!!!
#brawl stars#brawl stars headcanons#headcannons#brawl stars larry#brawl stars lawrie#larry and lawrie
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CSM 167: Yo, What the Fuck?
So, that chapter, huh?
To just get it out of the way, Yoru gave Denji a handjob and he came on her hand, and despite how crude that sounds I find this whole chapter fascinating. Normally I like to think these kinds of posts out but right now my mind is racing trying to organize everything, so I'm going write whatever pops into my mind.
So first thing, there's the issue of consent, and I'll start with Asa, because she didn't show up until the very end, but we have to remember that Asa has shown the ability to push Yoru out of the driver's seat in moments where she is particularly having strong emotions, and someone using your hand to jack someone off would get some kind of strong emotion out of her. Yoru seems to act as Asa's unfiltered, unrestrained thoughts and desires, the version of Asa that acts without the worry of what other people think or say about her, so that means if Yoru was allowed to do this, then that means on some subconscious level that Asa was okay with this happening. I'm certain she'll scream and yell about it later, but that won't change the fact she let this happen. Then there's Denji, who at this point I think we'll just have to accept that even if all parties involved give consent I doubt he'll ever have a really "normal" sexual experience, and the fact that Yoru seemed to be getting into this along with him, instead of her just using it to manipulate him like literally every other girl he's been with unironically maybe puts it at the top of the list for him.
Which brings me to Yoru! back when the had the apartment date, she kissed Denji and when she pulled away she was blushing, she felt something for him at that moment, and as we saw here the returning memory of that date had her act on that feeling again. We know that Asa's emotions leak into Yoru, and considering Asa's own feelings on Denji that means that to some extent Yoru feels them too, but unlike Asa, Yoru has no inhibitions to stop her from acting on her desires.
Overall, this chapter left me with two major thoughts on what I think/want to happen.
The first being is that this is what causes Denji to snap, that he'll have some post-nut clarity and call Asa out on how she's been acting, because from his point of view she's been an unstable, schizophrenic psychopath this whole day. Denji asks her about her arm, she kicks him in the balls, she says she wants to help him, but she threatens to fight him, she tries to castrate him, and she gives him a hand job and makes out with him! What is he supposed to reasonably think about her in this situation when she's just been nothing but an inconsistent mess? I want them to start getting mad and start yelling, with Asa arguing with both him and Yoru which only makes her look more insane to him. I really feel like if they get angry, then Denji can actually start beginning to take some control of his life back instead of letting everyone push him around, and Asa will be forced to confront her flaws and mistakes, that she can only be in denial for so long while Denji is screaming in her face about it. It would be ugly and messy, but I think it might actually be good for them in the end.
Also, I'm not entirely joking when I say if those two(three?) end up having intense hate sex in that alleyway in the rain, then I think it would be insane in the best kind of ways.
And second, I think it would be unhinged is Asaden was a red herring, and Yoruden was the real end game pairing. It might legit be the start to Asa's villain origin story. She goes out and does all these things just so Denji can feel strong affections for her, to give her something to latch her self-worth and the attempts to validate her life, oly for Denji to fall in love with Yoru instead. It would be both hilarious and tragic.
Another thing! Up until this point I thought Denji and Asa's relationship would be a tragedy or What Ifs and Could Have Beens, but instead I want them to be unhinged as possible, spiraling down while they blaze the candle at both ends. Just let their relationship become everyone's problem from now on.
Overall, the last few months have left me nervous and apprehensive about what each new chapter of Chainsaw Man will bring, but as of this chapter I find myself more excited than ever because I feel like this might end up taking the story is some insane places.
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As always, only half finished and kinda edited (as most of my bg3 writing is)
This is the Weave Lesson scene. I'm playing with using game dialogue and my own for kinda the first time for this maybe fic. I can't tell how it's going quite yet.
the only context you need for this scene is Gale spends his evenings practicing his spellbook in early levels and he gets frustrated at the pace he's crawling at. I have a fragment of this earlier in this scene where he slams his book onto his alchemy table (cause my game Gale was our potion brewer extraordinaire) and Wynleth hears glass breaking. its a passing mention in this.
(EDIT: there is something else. Wynleth describes being percieved directly by Lathander. This is a reference to her encounter with the god during her Paladin vows. I haven't ironed it out but the gist is she has spoken directly with the god once before)
I'm gonna also try a new way of formatting these posts.
------------------------------
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Gale huffs and runs his hands through his hair. I can see the mental battle he’s losing behind his eyes. Eventually he gives in.
“I’ve been in touch with the Weave for as long as I can remember. It’s like music, poetry, physical beauty all rolled into one and given expression through the senses. Mastering it felt as natural as breathing air. So losing it now feels like another kick in a series of blows to my ego. I suppose that was half of it.” He brings up that projection again. “She meant to bring low again, to humble me.”
Absent-mindedly, he begins to play with his earring and exactly who is hovering above his palm dawns on me like a crashing wave.
“Mystra?”
He nods an affirmative while gazing wistfully up at the goddess that spurned him.
I don’t know what to say.
“Her idols don’t do her justice.” The words leave my lips before I really think about them. It’s true though, they don’t. The ones I’ve seen depict a sensual woman, clothing and hair animated by the very Weave she commands. Sharp features and languid poses that reek of the male gaze and look nothing like how Gale presents her now. It’s almost shocking how simply he paints her. She could be just another beauty walking the streets of Baldur’s Gate. “They truly don’t,” Gale whispers back.
“I’m ashamed to admit, the way you speak of the Weave makes me almost jealous. It seems so infinite.” Poetry and music and beauty. He truly has a way with words if he can make me crave something when my magic feels like the kiss of sunlight after a dark winter.
The light comes back in his eyes as I shift the conversation. “Divine power must feel almost… limiting in comparison. Being only allowed as much as your deity sees fit.” Mystra’s visage is gone again, momentarily forgotten for the time being. The “More than you know,” dies swiftly on my tongue. He does know and that is the problem.
He gets an idea. I can tell by the look in his eye and the mischievous smile on his face as he pushes up to rest on his elbow. “Would you like to learn?”
What?
“You could teach me?”
He’s actually grinning now which makes me feel better. He’s not hung up on all this bullshit that’s going on. “Oh yes. Here-” He shifts into a seated position and takes my hands. Together we stand and move to the open space in front of his tent. I can't help but laugh softly at how serious he looks as he positions me and motions for me to stay put.
He turns away and makes for the table he has set up for his alchemical pursuits to retrieve his spellbook, snapping away the beaker I heard fall earlier. Prestidigitation. Perhaps that’s what he’ll teach me. I’ve heard it's a very useful spell with many applications, quick clean up being one of them.
He thumbs through the tome until he finds what he’s looking for based on the way his face settles in a self-satisfied expression. “This is a simple spell for channeling the Weave. See here-” He says as he positions himself just behind me and runs his finger over the sigil drawn on the page.
It’s brain-bendingly complex for a “simple spell.” Even the most complex healing sigils or anointments I had to learn were markedly less intricate. But it’s beautiful the way the lines curl and intersect.
“It is, isn't it?”
I must have said it out loud. Gale’s eyes are shining, they're so bright. He truly loves this. “Could you explain this to me, what all of this means?” I say, running my finger across the same path he did. There seems to be a start and end to the figure that the movement traces.
He launches into an explanation I only half understand but follow with rapt attention. What I do glean is I was right about the beginning and end and the segments of the glyph refer to different parts of the spell. Somatic, Verbal, and Material. This one only has Somatic and Verbal.
“I hope that wasn’t too hard to follow. I’ll admit, some of this stuff requires prior knowledge of spell composition.”
He looks sheepish as he pulls the book away and goes to set it down gently off to the side so he can continue to consult it from afar. It’s endearing, his concern.
“Some of it certainly went over my head but I’ve read political treatise and legalese so dense they make your head spin. I’m no stranger to asking questions and learning more.”
That seems to assuage him. He shakes out his arms and gives a winning smile. “Are you ready?”
“After you master wizard,” I say with a playful bow.
He makes a gesture that is almost like theatrically flipping something over in his hands. I watch astutely as something seems to glow from between them. Then he gestures for me to mimic him. I try my best. It’s a lot less confident than his, but from the wideness of his grin I’ve done it satisfactorily enough. Then a shiver goes up my spine as a feeling begins to overtake me. Warmth and… something I cannot place. It’s different from the sunlight of Lathander, or Shadowheart’s healing, or the electric crackle when Gale casts something. I must rock back at the sensation because Gale’s hand is there to meet me at the small of my back. “That’s the Weave. Don’t be afraid. You get used to it.”
It does feel like poetry. It feels like looking up from prose that touches your soul and letting the words sink into your skin and bury themselves in the very marrow of your being. I close my eyes at the feeling and let it wash over me. “More things on Heaven and Earth…” I say as I open my eyes.
“Indeed,” Gale matches my conspiratorial whisper. “That was the Somatic component. Are you ready for the Verbal?” I nod. “Repeat after me. Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao.”
The words are strange on my tongue but then the feeling somehow compounds, doubling, tripling in intensity. Gale’s voice is hushed in my ear as he leans in and whispers, “Now I want you to picture in your mind the concept of Harmony. As true as you can.”
My mind wheels through various options. Things I’ve been taught are harmony. People living in peace together. Unwavering Devotion to the Morninglord. People singing different words and notes but bringing together something transcendent and beautiful.
None of it seems to fit.
Harmony is this. It’s sitting in a Druid’s Grove full of people who just want to survive, surrounded by nature and beauty and finding a moment of peace despite the hell of our reality. It’s taking precious minutes of our lives for an impromptu magic lesson in a discipline I am wholly unfamiliar with. It's Gale's patience and my eagerness and this feeling rolling over me in waves.
My hand finds Gale’s as a pulse of energy issues forth.
An energy field envelops us. It plays with our clothes like a breeze in the absence of any detectable current. Weave. Purple and blue and as fine as spun sugar. It tastes sweet and floral and electric in a good way.
Poetry and music and beauty all rolled into one. Gale has never been more right.
“It’s beautiful Gale.”
“That doesn’t even begin to describe it.” He muses, his eyes reflecting the beautiful light surrounding us.
“No. No it doesn’t, I choke out around an incredulous laugh. I feel the urge to weep and laugh and dance all at once. This is incredible.
Instead, we stand like this- Gale’s hand pressed against my back and his other clasped in mine- breathing in what feels to me like the cosmos for some time.
“Do you feel her? Watching over us?” A reverent tone has taken over his voice as Gale breaks our reverie. Calling attention to it suddenly helps me put the feeling into words. We are being perceived by Mystra of all things. It’s a strange feeling, different than it was being perceived by Lathander. This is less direct, more idle than anything. It’s the comfort of knowing she is there. She is watching over us and keeping us safe. Tangible reassurance that your faith is not misplaced. This is a prayer answered.
“Thank you,” I say with a squeeze of my hand. We are making the most direct eye contact we have this entire encounter. No more passing glances that happen to meet or gazing at the other as they experience the majesty unfolding around us. Connection, true connection this time.
“For what?” Gale breaths, like he truly doesn’t know what a gift this is.
“For teaching me. For giving me a taste of what you experience everyday. For opening my eyes to this.” My free hand gestures around us and I mean to follow with my eyes but find I cannot tear them away. Gale looks so alive when surrounded by magic, in a way he isn’t when he is pursuing other things. It suits him handsomely.
It sinks in exactly how intimate this moment is, the two of us connected not only by touch but by the very Weave itself. I could take a thousand nights just like this one and never tire. And what I would do for a lifetime of conversations about subjects like this one! Strolling arm in arm learning from each other. I am half-convinced even a lifetime wouldn’t be enough.
As if in the same breath, I am filled by an almost innate sense of how beautiful I look lit by the Weave. The way my green eyes compliment the hues of purple and blue and the copper of my hair stands out against the ethereal backdrop. It’s a strange and discordant thought. Not mine.
I think we both realize at the same time that they aren’t our thoughts, that perhaps the tadpoles have pulled a fast one on us or even the Weave has something to do with it. We both blush in unison and impressively.
And then we laugh.
Gale’s laugh is always loud and rapturous. Barking would be a good way to describe it. But it’s pleasant and jovial. It feels right every time I hear it. I get the sense mine is musical in the way horn instruments are. Not like peeling bells, but brassy and boisterous and unladylike. That makes sense, my grandmother hated my laugh. It was too masculine and unbecoming of a daughter of a noble house, my culturally masculine social position be damned. Which is a damn shame, it is a nice laugh.
“I- Um- Well.” Gale clears his throat, still blushing. “Unexpected consequences. Not unwelcome ones! But unexpected all the same.” I’m still laughing, gently now. “There is no harm. I’m glad someone likes my laugh.” Gale blushes impossibly harder.
In a swift movement, like a breeze blowing smoke away, the spell dissipates. It’s almost frigid in it’s absence, or maybe it’s the act of Gale stepping away that brings the chill. I refuse to let him release my hand though.
“There it goes. As fleeting as the dawn, wouldn’t you agree?” He smiles at me, pleased at his metaphor.
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#baldur's gate 3#bg3#baldur's gate iii#bg3 tav#gale#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#bg3 gale#bg3 fanfiction#fanfiction#Jericho Writes
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Are We There Yet?
An Empyrean Drabble featuring Xaden driving the Iron Squad to the beach. He has many regrets. Mainly that Ridoc's annoying as fuck and Violet makes him way too horny for him to be comfortable trapped in the car with her best friends.
Pour one out for Sawyer's pants. Sorry for what I had to do to you, man.
Read the drabble after the break or on AO3.
“Are we there yet?”
Xaden groans. This is the third time Ridoc's asked in the last five minutes. Why did his girlfriend have to get saddled with the most annoying squad in the quadrant? Couldn't she have been matched with someone cool? Someone like Bodhi or Garrick.
“Not yet, Ridoc,” Violet says, endlessly patient. It’s one of the many reasons Xaden loves her.
“How much longer?” Her friend whines.
“About two minutes less than the last time you asked,” Xaden grumbles.
“What was that, Riorson?”
Xaden glances in the rearview mirror to see Rhiannon Matthias smirking up at him from the back seat where she sits wedged between Ridoc Gamlyn and Sawyer Henrrick. Xaden’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. His white-knuckled grip is the only thing keeping him from throwing one of these assholes out a window.
“I said it’s a nice day for the beach.”
“Uh-huh.”
Xaden tears his eyes away from the back seat. Because Garrick and Xaden are the only ones with cars, and because Xaden is dating Violet, he’s stuck driving the children instead of riding with his friends.
It’s a tight squeeze in his Sedan, a sleek dark blue Audi. The trunk is filled with their overnight back and floaties, which means that their beach bags are in the back seat. The cooler with their drinks and sandwiches is balanced on Sawyer’s lap.
The man’s legs keep jiggling up and down, jostling the ice and sloshing the water.
“I’m not the only one who’s bored. Sawyer’s all jittery.” Ridoc presses his face against the window. “I know! Let’s play a game.”
A groan comes from the other side of the back seat.
“Guys, I really have to pee.”
“I spy with my little eye something silver,” Ridoc says, ignoring Sawyer’s announcement.
“Can you hold it?” Violet asks. Xaden chances a glance at her, taking his eyes off the road. She’s turned around, looking at Sawyer in the backseat with concern. A car changes lanes and Xaden has to swerve to avoid it.
“Fuck,” Sawyer whimpers as he squirms in an attempt to get comfortable.
“Be careful, Xaden,” Violet scolds. “You need to keep your eyes on the road.”
“It’s in this car,” Ridoc hints.
“Shut up, Ridoc,” Rhiannon says. “No one cares what you spy.”
“We’re only forty-five minutes away,” Xaden says, irritation lacing his words. “You can hold it.”
“I can’t. I’m about to burst.”
“Can you just try, Sawyer?” Violet asks placatingly. She places her hand on Xaden’s thigh, rubbing gently to calm him down. Unfortunately, her touch excites another part of his body. A part that she’s getting dangerously close to. He’s going to have to immediately whisk her away to a secluded area when they get to the beach. Or a public changing room, whichever is closer.
“Then Ridoc has to take the cooler.” Sawyer shifts frantically, trying to slide the cooler across Rhiannon’s lap and onto Ridoc’s, but then they hit a bump and he starts to panic. “It’s pressing on my bladder.”
“Seriously, guys?” Ridoc’s voice is incredulous as he looks around the car. “No one has a guess for something silver.”
“It’s Violet’s fucking hair!” Xaden shouts. “It’s obviously her hair. What the fuck else would it be?”
Gods, Ridoc was so fucking annoying. Xaden could strangle him.
“Jeez, you don’t have to be so mean about it.” Ridoc goes back to looking out his window. “I’ll think of a harder one this time.”
“Please don’t,” Xaden and Sawyer groan simultaneously. Ridoc kicks Xaden’s seat in response.
“How about we play the silent game instead,” Violet suggests.
“This is so entertaining,” Rhiannon cackles. “I’m so glad you invited us to tag along, Xaden.”
There’s a high-pitched sob from the back right, and Xaden looks up to see Sawyer’s face turning red. A look of horror spreads across the man’s features. “Pull over. Right now.”
#xaden riorson#violet sorrengail#ridoc gamlyn#sawyer henrick#rhiannon matthias#empyrean drabbles#empyrean au#fluff#iron squad fluff#I'm So Sorry Sawyer#empyrean fanfic
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#hypothetical situation (not) but how would one feel if their roommate was using their tv in the living room (which was bought by your father#as a gift to you) and is sitting on the couch you paid for (rubbing their feet all over it like literally rubbing back and forth and in#between the cushions) and had left a mess on the table you also bought and when you asked if you could use your tv in the living room their#response was to immediately argue (raise voice) saying ‘I PAY RENT TOO YOU CANT KICK ME OUT OF THE LIVING ROOM’ when this was the first time#i had asked in our 2 months of living here to use my tv bc shes been using it all week and my ps5 is connected to it so i wanted to use it#she said ‘this isn’t yours your dad bought it’ and then said ‘dont you have your own tv in your room’ (which is much smaller and i cannot#play ps5 games on bc yaknow. ps5 is in living room)#how would we feel in this situation#knowing said roommate is using your things and claiming them as apart of rent (i assure you its not apart of rent i paid for and dragged in#and set up all these things out of my own pocket)#claiming them……as their own……….#and taking over?#she has not even bought anything for the house and then whenever i ask and finally give up and get it myself shes like ‘oh i was gonna get#that tomorrow’ (which is why shes not allowed to use my shower caddy now lmao)#am i being territorial or am i being reasonable for being upset with her?#wtf do i do LMAO#delete later
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actually i hate my sisters so much for making me feel like im not allowed to exist in my own home
#if they wanna play that game; i was born first. by their logic i have more right to our mom than they do#this was my home first. i was here first. i havemore right to be here than them#but for real; my mom is the only one who can decide if i can live here or not#my sisters dont have any right to freezeme out and tell me i shouldnt live here anymore#only my mom can kick me out or have opinions on that#imjust very hurt by my mom and that she doesnt say anything#and when i try to to talk abt how i feel she just always tells me that they have feelings too and that it isnt all abt me???#well im the one being iced out by my own family and spend all my days isolated in my room but yeah i guess im the bad one#maybe i am a bad person i can honestly not trust myself. why else would everyone treat me like this lik#lol*** damn fkn makes me so mad that i cant type on anything without typos#anyway.... i fucking hate my sisters so much and my mom being cold abt it makes me so sad#when i tell her that im so lonely i feel like i could die and that i need interaction#she just tells me that i need to get outside more#anyway i dont fucking know what im supposed to do#i am stuck and i have never gotten any help from theme talhealth care system either so#wtf am i supposed to do all alone in this!?!?!#wish i was fkn normal
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Do we have any confirmation on any other Ragnvindr's? Like. Is Diluc it, or are there still other living breathing family members?
#☆ ┆ ( .ooc. );#//And if so; did they have any beef with Kae and the Winery staff after Diluc up and went off on his Fabulous Fatui Slaughter Spree?#//Bc there's a decent chance they did Not like Crepus taking in this kid from nowhere and treating him like another son#//And as such a High Chance that once Luc bounced & Kae was left; they could have tried smth to diminish his claim to anything#//Esp what was rightfully Luc's that he left behind. Titles; properties; wealth; etc#//Bc Luc by all right is basically the family head; considering his status and rep in-game#//But while he was gone; did Kae; Addie and Elzer have to like#//Defend his right to stay named such when Crepus kicked the bucket. Have to defend Kae's own rights to things/managing affairs?#//Esp since he still keeps his own name & everything. Or did the other Ragnvindr's respect and/or choose to wait for Luc to come back#//Did Kae have to lie and/or sweettalk his way into MAKING them believe Luc would be back so they'd have more patience?#//Did he have to resort to underhanded tactics yet again; this time to defend Luc's claims by ensuring complacency?#//Also; would all the properties like the manor and such Luc sold off get sold to one of THEM? Or some other noble family??#//That's my biggest one bc I like the idea of Kae hunting down whoever got the manor and buying it back from them#//If not for his inability to let things go; then bc he wants a nice big place that is both home for him but COULD be home for others#//Like Klee who visits him often. Benny and Razor; if he gets the chance to train/head out with them; so they can have a sleepover#//Mostly Klee; he would love the idea of making her feel like a princess#//Ack; I am digressing. But ye. Thinkings thinkings#//Prolly thinking too much of it tho lol#hc; kaeya
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Ngh awake thinking about the way phantasmagorias author portrays the majima everywhere alert through prose like YOW the second before the door slams open you already feel ten thousand icy cold needles shooting into your skin so deep they pierce to the marrow, like youve walked into a spiderweb spun with threads of fate and theyre all wrapping around you and trying to converge inside your body and then the door opens and its him. Its really him and you have every reason to square your shoulders up and tell him get the FUCK out of my home
#Yakuza liveblog#like aoaoayooouuu i lovee this fic so much i consider it the Best One. i adore how utterly faithful it is to the games even if the author#despises the kiwamis LOL but whenever i read it i go EEK !!! and start kicking my feet like a girl#i linked chapter two which was the start of the encounter but chapter two has many many many MANY terrible scenes where kiryus just being#fucked up and over and sideways by literally everything and it sucks to read#and you can really tell how unhappy he is because instead of letting his fists talk first his confusion actually splits through his rage#beacause the sight of majima alone ... dangerous and a stranger to this new life hes destroying his back and hands to build... kiryu#recognoses him as not a ‘friend’ really but an Opportunity. hes shot back a year into the past where every songle day would be bloody#knuckles and split lips and hes comfortable in a body aching with bruises and pumping hot blood through his veins. he fucking hates#construction work he hates that he cant make enough to even buy haruka some new damn shoes he hates that his days are packed full with#below minumum wage hours he hates that people out there need help and hes forced to keep his head down and work work work himself to death#and back again just to make instant noodles for breakfast for his daughter and tap water for himself ... but he will do it. he will keep#doing it for as long as it takes if it means haruka can keep going to school and haruka will keep going to school even if she hates it#because her papas working so damn hard for her to have the shot at life that he didnt. haruka the same girl whos going to take on someone#elses dream and make it come true. not for herself because thats not what she wanted at all... someone told her papa that its every little#girls dream to be a star and he believed it .. so she believes it too. even if its not true. she kept believing it when she realised that#mireis dreams had landed squarely on her shoulders and she had to make it all come true just so she could come running back to do what she#actually wants !!! she wants her dad she wants her siblings she wants her family !!!! thats just how it is sometimes !! she inherited kiryus#tendency to be the big hero and yet kiryu is just a tad more selfish than she is because he saw majima in that doorway and kamurochos scent#flooded his shitty little apartment again and he wanted it badly so so badly that he couldnt help but let majima in#hello by the way hii :)#helioshellion is a fucking genius even if i cant spell their url ever
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Debating having a second, parallel fic to dr1 end rewrite that's just. memories.
And then sometimes posting one of those instead of a main fic update to show what memories Kyoko's recovering as time goes on, while also giving a better look (albeit out of order) of stuff that happened prior to the Killing Game.
....
The first chapter would be the first all girls sleepover that Kyoko goes to. Because I think that's apt.
#musings#bandit writes fic#bandit brainstorms#dr1 end rewrite fic#in theory the all girls sleepover is not a one time event#like in my head each of the girls take turns hosting#sayaka or hina actually probably host first#celeste won't host a full on sleepover bur she will host a tea instead and then kicks them all out when she wants to sleep#celeste never does the sleepover part; she always leaves when she wants to rest#i don't think chihiro goes for the same reason he doesn't doing any work out stuff with hina or sakura in thh#(yes i will use he/him for chihiro because the game presents that as what he eventually wants to use#and also because chiaki refers to him as /father/)#and i think for a while kyoko is so focused on detective stuff that she gives off that aloof air and either#1) most of the girls are too intimidated to invite her#and/or 2) she says no initially because she's in the middle of doing something else this is not the time for frivilousness#and also 3) i don't think kyoko understands the concept of how to friends or how to girls sleepover#so having that as the first unlocked memory would set some of that up pretty well#(and later memories could be earlier than that to showcase how she got to that point with them - why she decided to go that time)#memories can jump around in time#AND#they can be unlockables!#like /you made it past chapter one; here is your prize!/#sort of things?#and then even if main fic isn't enogiri#the memories fic very much would be
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