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twinklelilstarkey · 2 years

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Tutor: After Classes - Rafe Cameron

Words: 4.8k+ Type: Fluffy-ish Summary: The day after Rafe came over. Warnings: Fem!Reader [no mentions of race or bodytype]. Teeny tiny bit of Dark!Rafe. Mentions of hiding a relationship from friends and family, parties, and Y/N's friends' hate for Rafe. Forbidden relationship. Almost getting caught. Overprotective parents. A little bit of a filler chapter, sorry.

Tutor Masterlist (for context, you should rly read the smuts <3)

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

A/N.: Look at this cutie, he doesn't even look like he just justified his murders with "killing is nature".

“How did your test go?”

You turn to the side, easily startled by the sudden sound of a voice, and move the door of your locker out of the way to see none other than Kristy, your best friend. You offer her a smile before answering her question.

“Good.” You tell her, “How did it go for you?”

She answers you, and you continue putting your stuff away in your locker. You nod and hum at the things that she asks you about. They're simple answers, but most of her questions are just her way of figuring out if she wrote the same things as you - or, in other words, to see if she wrote the right things.

You look at her as you finally get done emptying your bag, and close your locker. Throwing your bag over your shoulder, you move a bit on your feet, waiting for her to begin to lean away from the metal boxes and walk out with you.

“Do you have any classes after lunch?” She asks you, already done talking about the test.

“Physics, but Mrs. Anne sent an email saying she’s sick.” You tell her, holding back the excitement in your voice.

“You’re so lucky.” She whines while rolling her eyes.

You giggle at her and wrap your arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to you.

You and Kristy are definitely the closest of your friend group. You only met her about a year ago, but, still, the two of you hit off a great friendship right from the start. The other girls are nice, but never as nice as Kristy. They’re all super different from you, yet Kristy is the only one that makes an effort to include you in their plans.

For example, she makes sure that at every party you’re taken to, there’s always no drama or possible problems. Usually, those ones are ones with more tourists and, surprisingly, Pogues. They never take you to Kook parties because they know that they are far from being your crowd. So, Kristy is the one always trying to make sure she knows what parties are less problematic. She always makes you your fruity drinks when you’re there, always stays close to you, and constantly asks if you’re okay. The other girls might do it, but not as much as she does.

“Want to go out to eat?” She asks you as you pass through the school doors. Her brown highlighted hair moves gracefully with the soft wind, and your heart sinks a little at her words.

You look at her, ignoring the way your heart pains by the way she seems to look forward to your usual confirmation of plans.

“I already planned to have lunch with my parents today.” You lie. “I'm sorry.”

“Oh no, it's okay. That’s fine.” She shrugs under your arm, “How about tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’d love that.” You say with a smile.

The two of you walk down the stairs of the school and begin to make your way toward Kristy's car. The other girls are already by it, some of them even leaning on its side. As soon as they notice you two, they stop talking and offer you a wave as you still stand in the distance.

Once close enough, you exchange greetings, and the question floats in the air once more.

“How was your test?” One of them asks.

(...)

You wave back at them as you take slow steps towards your front door, and excitement grows inside of you as you get closer and closer to your porch. Once you turn to face the door and unlock it, you hear the car turn back on. And right as you step inside the house, it finally drives off.

You drop everything by the door and close everything back up, taking your shoes off before happily fast walking through your refreshing home all the way over to your bedroom. You jump up the stairs, still trying to hold in your smile and trying not to slide too much on the wooden floors. It wouldn’t be cute of you to fall right on your ass.

You grab your bedroom key from behind the vase beside the door and quickly unlock it.

The lack of light is one of the first things you notice when you walk inside as one of the windows is still fully closed, and the second thing is Rafe, still very much asleep at almost 1PM.

Closing the door behind you, you don’t lock it again, since there won’t be any 'company' until the end of the afternoon. You take off your jacket and throw it over your desk’s chair. You walk to the bed and throw yourself on it, right beside Rafe, granting yourself a sleepy groan from the man himself.

“How are you still asleep?” You ask him, even though his back is turned to you. Your hands are by your stomach as you stare at the ceiling.

“You made me stay up late.” Says the one that chose the longest movie on the entire streaming platform.

After done speaking, Rafe groans again and rolls on the bed, turning to lay on his stomach and face you - getting your attention. You roll with him as a small giggle escapes you, and Rafe groans yet again as you are now quite literally laying on top of him.

He closes his eyes again, surprisingly still heavy with sleep, and you rest your cheek on the warm skin of his back. Rafe doesn't actually go back to sleep, but you two stay like that for a little.

You stare around your room and look at your closed curtains. You should really open them, as well as the windows, the bedroom probably needs some fresh air.

You finally look back up at Rafe and giggle yet again at the sight of his messy hair and his slightly swollen face. The comeback of your giggles is enough to pull at the corners of Rafe's lips, making him grin at the sound of your amusement. You bring your hand up and brush your fingers through the strands of his hair, bringing them out of his face and back at the top of his head.

You keep your hand in place, playing with his hair for a little as you're lost in your mind for a little too long. When done, you feel the sudden sensation of an empty stomach. In your defense, you usually eat lunch at this time.

You poke Rafe's cheek, and his eyes reopen. You smile and roll off of him. You turn to lay on your back, turning your head to face him, and Rafe looks at you. Your hands are just by your sides while your head lays on the pillow, and you look straight at him.

“How was your test?” He asks, voice deeper and lower from sleep.

“Good.” You tell him. “I think.”

Rafe rolls on the bed as well, and you watch him as he now stares at the ceiling with you.

You wonder if he even was awake when you talked to him early in the morning before school. Seeing him this sleepy makes you think that he might have given you automatic answers while sleeping deeply throughout your suffering of not wanting to leave the bed. Ugh. Lucky bastard.

The two of you stay silent for a little bit until Rafe decides to finally get up. But not entirely.

Rafe sits up first, and you observe as he gives up halfway and simply lays on top of you. The back of his head lays on top of your chest, and he simply lays there for a little longer, not offering you any words or explanations. You chuckle, not minding it all that much, and brush your fingers through his hair once more.

If Rafe truly had even an ounce of need to get up before, it evaporated just now. His eyes are fighting to stay open again as your hands work through his head and now, slowly, move down to his face. Your small hands caress his cheeks like any other day, and he lays his hand over your jean-clad leg.

Your hands pause and stay over his cheeks. You tilt your head to look at him, and he sighs dramatically. You grin and squeeze his cheeks between your fingers.

“You can do it.” You playfully encourage him.

It takes much self-convincing, but it works to make Rafe sit again, ready to get up this time. And as soon as he’s ready to do it, he looks over at you and does not move for another 5 seconds.

“Go.” You encourage him again, poking his side.

He groans and finally gets up. You look at him, in his only-boxers’ glory, and he quickly finds the door to the bathroom in his sleepy state. You sit up when the door closes and sigh happily, feeling all giddy with his company.

You get back up but with no urgency in your movements. You look around your room, trying to entertain yourself with something while waiting. You start by grabbing the dirty laundry from yesterday off the floor and tossing it in the laundry bin, as well as rearranging your books back on your shelves.

Your mind works as you move around. It focuses a bit on your test, trying to remember your answers, and if you actually wrote the right thing and didn’t just get everything mixed up. You think back on Kristy and on her test. You had studied with her just last week, and she was getting most of the questions right when you quizzed each other. You believe she'll have a good grade too.

It’s a sudden noise inside the bathroom that makes you look over at the door and think of something else. How do you plan on one day telling them the truth? It has to happen. You know it. And you know that it has to come out of your mouth first than anyone else’s.

You have to be fair with your friends.

But... Would they be fair to you if you told them?

You know that your situation with Rafe can be a little difficult to describe. You two have sex, a lot, but due to all of the secrecy, can you even call it 100% dating? Meaning, would you describe it to your friends as dating? These types of questions sometimes echo in your mind, time and time again, and you never know the answer to them.

And what about your parents? You’re extremely close to them and they have times when they keep on saying how much they would love for you to have a boyfriend again (if he's the right one). They hate to see you stay at home doing nothing, and they’re against whatever you do on your own that doesn’t include Kristy or any of the other girls. They don’t like you on your own, which is fair since all of your life, you’ve always had friends. But your idea of a great company and the 'right one' is very different from what they intend in all of your conversations.

Your finger traces the spine of one of your books as you think. You know that if you think much harder, anxiety will eventually get to you. So many questions haunt you yet almost none of them have a complete answer. You drum your nail on the hardcover of the book and sigh out loud, already sensing that unsettling feeling at the bottom of your stomach. The cold burning feeling of nothing but anxiety.

That is when Rafe opens the door of the bathroom, and you quickly turn around to face him. He’s obviously still in his boxers, and he’s eyeing the bathroom before actually focusing his eyes on you. Your unsettling mind is still going, but, in an inexplicable way, as soon as you're under his stare, everything lifts off of you, almost as if there was never anything to worry about.

“Want to take a shower?”

(...)

“Just believe in me.” You giggle at the man beside you.

Rafe looks down at the concoction that you have going on for lunch, and he cannot hide his expression. Most of his comments until now have been nothing but jokes, but you need to concentrate. You force yourself to keep mixing through your giggles, and Rafe just stares down at the mixture.

It's one of the recipes from your mother's cookbook. One you like to do whenever you have time. You have to admit, in its early stages, it does look... questionable, but it will taste and look delicious whenever it reaches the end result. Rafe just doesn't know that yet.

You look over at the clock on the wall of the kitchen simply to check the time and see how long you have until your parents come home. You and Rafe may or may not have wasted a little lunchtime in the shower. Not that anything sexual happened in it, all you did was pretty much kiss - for a long time -, and shower. When you were dressed and out of the steaming bathroom, it had passed an hour.

The sound of your phone vibrating feels the silence of the kitchen, and you stop mixing the batter in the bowl to fetch your phone. Rafe takes over on the mixing, still eyeing it down to try to understand how something like this will become a dough, and you see that it is a text from Kristy.

She’s asking you about a party she and the girls just heard about at the restaurant, and, obviously, she's asking if you want to come with them. It’s supposed to be this weekend, Saturday night. You stare at the screen for a bit, should you?

Pushing back the idea of this party for a second, you come back to your lunch and take over the mixing once more.

You and Rafe talk about the most random of things while you mix and continue to add more ingredients. Even when the lunch begins to take a little longer, Rafe stays beside you, checking his phone quickly before coming up with anything else to add or to say.

You close the oven door and sigh, throwing the gloves onto the counter. You dramatically let your head lay over Rafe’s shoulder and close your eyes. You could take a nap after all of this.

“Are you going to the party on Saturday?” You ask him with your eyes still closed.

“Which one?”

“There’s more than one?” You ask, lifting your head just to look at him confused, “How does a island so small have more than one party going on a Saturday?”

Rafe smiles down at you.

“There’s a bigger one and then smaller ones all around.”

You hum in realization and move to lean your head on his chest, this time. Guess that makes sense.

“Well… Are you going to any of them?” You ask him.

“Don’t know.” He tells you, “Are you?”

“I have no idea.”

Rafe exhales out a laugh through his nose and looks down at you as you lay your cheek on the left side of his chest. Your eyes are closed, and your arms are by your sides. He might as well conclude now that if he leaves you standing still for a little longer, you’ll fall asleep leaning onto him.

“Tell me whenever you know what party you’re going to.” Rafe tells you.

You lift your head and look up at him.

“Why? We always go to different parties.” You tell him sincerely.

“We do.” He agrees, and, while looking down on you, he slips in the question, “And why is that?” He asks, noticing how certain you are that you two are never in the same space.

“My friends are the ones who plan which parties I go to.” You say all of a sudden, “They’ve never met you,” You clarify, “So you don’t know who they are. But they don’t…” You hesitate, scrunching a bit your face as you keep going, “exactly, like you.”

Some sort of grin grows on Rafe’s face, and you feel a little confused by it.

“So that’s why they don’t let you be at parties with me?” He asks, humor deep in his tone.

You hesitate before answering but you know that your silence is a big enough answer.

Rafe has always known that you couldn’t be seen with him. He sincerely thought it was about his family, at first. He knows that if his own family knew about the two of you, they would be against it like no other. They like you too much and know him too well. No girl like you could ever be near him. He could ruin you, corrupt you, and everything else in between. His family wouldn't want either to be responsible or an audience to all of it. They've distanced themselves from his problems and labeled them as his responsibilities a long time ago. And it all can change with only you being brought up into these same responsibilities. If he 'ruins' you, they would be onto him all over again. He knows it.

Then, Rafe thought it was about your parents. Your parents get to know anything that happens due to your nosy neighbors, and they can’t see you with him. Rafe isn't dumb, he knows he has a reputation on the island. And he also knows that it's not a good one. If the people that have known and raised him don't like him to the point of not trusting him with you, imagine people that only hear the rumors. The people that raised the perfect girl would hate him more than his own family would. He could ruin what they built and who they raised, and that is almost a threat in the entire sense of the word. No parent would proudly say that their daughter is dating Rafe Cameron. Yet here he is, in their home, doing exactly that.

But now it’s your friends too? How protected could you really be? He has known you for what will feel like 2 years now. He has heard of you for, he assumes, longer due to stories from smaller Kook parties and all of that. If Rafe had to decide who would be the least problematic in this discussion, it would be your friends. Come on, their way to defend you is to never bring you to parties that he's in. But why? Is it because of the drug rumors? Do they think Rafe would drug you or something? Or worse?

Truly, this just keeps on getting better and better. A familiar sensation is felt deep in his body. Rafe can never really describe it. He tended to get it when he would see you back at the time you weren't a thing yet. Some sort of lust, but not the normal kind. This one is deep-rooted, and with something that even Rafe himself knows it's not exactly good. It feeds into his obsession to be near you and to be able to watch you or touch you. But it feeds into this... weird side of him the fact that no one wants him to be close to you. It's similar to the rebelliousness one would feel as a teen. But deeper than that, as well as darker.

You continue to look up at him as Rafe stares back in silence, and you rest your hands on the counter just by the sides of his body. You wait for him to say anything, but Rafe simply kisses you. It’s out of nowhere and you actually were surprised for a few seconds, unable to move. But, as soon as you do, Rafe’s hands are holding you and deepening the kiss in no time.

He holds you flush against him, and you bring one of your hands to his cheek. As always, your soft touch against his skin is enough to drive Rafe insane. It makes him hold onto you tighter, squeezing your flesh and trying to get to be closer to him.

You let out a small little whimper, and Rafe pulls away to look at you.

“Good thing you like me, then.” He whispers onto your lips.

He lays a peck on your lips, and you smile up at him. Rafe then kisses your cheek, your jaw and as soon as he gets to your neck, you try to push him away. He nips at your skin and leaves wet kisses all throughout your skin, unaffected by your weak attempt at pushing him off of you.

When Rafe pulls away, you stare up at him and join your lips with his one more time. It’s softer, and Rafe doesn’t do anything to ruin the softness as it is a part of being with you.

When separating, you make sure to give him a few pecks and finally get away from him. You go check on the food in the oven, and Rafe watches as you do it. He could look at you for hours and he’d never grow bored of the view. You look back at him whenever done, and he watches with a speeding heart the way your smile seems to always come back.

You're his whether they all like it or not.

(...)

It has been hours since you two ate your lunch, and all you’ve done is watch TV and sleep. You two eventually got back to the bedroom since you never knew when your parents would be home, and didn't want to get caught in the living room couch. This time, you chose the movie, yet eventually fell asleep into a nap too - long enough to only wake up when the ending credits began to roll.

You were surprised to see that Rafe actually watched the whole thing while you slept, and, after that, you two simply talked. You talked for hours.

You told him about your friends, and he told you about his own. You talked about their names, how you met, and for how long you’ve been friends. It was easy for you to assign names to faces when it came to Rafe’s because you’ve seen them before at his house, you just never spoke to them.

"Who is closest to you?" You remember asking him.

You were practically laying on top of him. An elbow on the bed as your fist holds your head upwards just beside Rafe's, and half of your body glued to his. Rafe looked at you as you spoke. And your finger traced his face as he thought in silence.

"Topper, I think." He answered you.

You squinted while thinking, trying to remember who Topper was of all of his friends you have seen before. There were at least 4 people at his house when you were tutoring one day. Topper must have been the blonde one... Maybe?

"Yours is Kristy, then?" Rafe asks, and you nod.

You have no idea how the two of you had enough topics of conversation after a night and a almost whole day together.

Rafe also hasn’t stopped noticing how you’ve changed sitting positions millions of times while he simply laid or sat there. He watched as you even got up and walked around the room while telling a story. As well as when you cutely got closer to him when back on the bed.

Now, you are sitting over Rafe’s lap listening to him talk. He's simply sitting, hands behind him on your bed to hold himself upwards, and your legs are by each side of his lap. You nod at something he says while playing with the collar of his shirt when, suddenly, you hear the front door of your house close. Rafe shuts up and you tense up on his lap.

You two stay quiet until you can clearly hear the voices of both of your parents, talking to one another downstairs, and can tell where exactly they seem to be.

Rafe knows that it’s time for him to leave, yet you never get up from his lap so he can do it. He stares at you as you listen to your parents talk, and the two of you notice how your mother’s voice is seemingly getting louder as she walks up the stairs.

“Did you lock the door?” Rafe whispers at you.

Your eyes widen, and you practically jump out of his lap. Your floor is carpeted so most of the noise from your feet hitting the ground is muffled to anyone outside. You do a little run over to your door, and your fingers hold onto the key. Very, very slowly you begin to turn the key just so whenever it clicks into place, it won’t make it obvious to your mother that you just locked your door.

As soon as you get it to click softly into the lock, you cannot hear your mother’s voice anymore, only your father’s downstairs. You can only guess that she could be in her bedroom changing out of her work clothes or something of the sort, but, at the same time, you never really relax just from where you stand.

Rafe has gotten off the bed, looking around the room for his things, and whenever he begins to grab all of them, he walks slowly through your room, not wanting to accidentally make any noise. You look over your shoulder when you notice that he’s moving around, and your heart pains you a little. You know he has to leave, he has already spent the whole night and day with you, but you don’t want him to at all.

You continue to try and listen to understand where your mother could possibly be in the house, and what follows makes you jump on your feet and Rafe freeze. Three quick knocks on your door and then, not even 3 seconds later, the doorknob turns as an attempt to open the door. Your parents do this all of the time, they do knock first but they never give you time to answer.

“Sweetheart? Are you in there?” It’s your mother’s voice.

Rafe looks at you as he gets his phone out of the charger, and your sweet voice fills the room again.

“Yeah!” You tell her, “Just… Reading.”

You stare at Rafe as he reaches for the last thing he needs before leaving.

“Why is your door locked?” Your mother asks, trying to open the door one more time.

“I-” You struggle for a little bit to find the words, “Must- Must have locked it by accident when I came in here.”

“Well, come unlock it. I’d prefer to talk to you face-to-face.”

You follow Rafe over to the bedroom’s window, and you’re the one that unlocks it and pushes it open. You take a step back, leaving him enough space to move and get out through the small window, and Rafe stares down at you.

The two of you kiss, both reaching for it at the perfectly same time, and even though the kiss is simple, only a long peck on the lips, you still reach for him. Your hands still try to have him close to you just like the two of you were, minutes ago, and Rafe lays his hand on the back of your head, holding it.

“Honey. Open this door.” Your mother says, growing a little impatient.

You separate from the kiss and reach for Rafe’s face with your hands just so you can give him a few extra smaller kisses before he pulls away. You’re not even sure when you’re going to see him next and this isn't very comforting for your heart. You like him close to you. You don’t ever want him to be too far from you, especially for, possibly, days.

“Drive safe.” You whisper at Rafe, right against his lips.

“I will.”

You give his cheek a kiss before stepping back again and leaving him to sneak out through your window. You watch him disappear after only a few seconds and close your window, right after.

Right as your mother is turning the doorknob vigorously and beginning to open her mouth to scream at you, you open the door.

She takes a look at you and what's near you, noticing the change of clothes from this morning, yet the bed is messy. It truly looks as if you have just been lying in bed and doing nothing for the whole afternoon, and, to the surprise of your mother’s overprotective mind, you are completely alone. Your phone or computer isn’t even on the bed, meaning that you couldn’t have been talking to some guy without her realizing it.

“Sorry, the key was a little stuck.” You lie to her.

Your mother continues to stare at you and your room, and you truly feel that your heart will eventually be able to break out from your ribcage. It’s strongly pumping blood with an extreme dose of adrenaline, and your hands are beginning to grow clammy too.

You could’ve always had something incriminating in your bed. Maybe Rafe could have forgotten something. Anything in this could go wrong, yet, before your mother can even say anything after such long minutes of silence and just looking around, the silence is broken by a bike’s roar. The sound comes from the other side of the street and then becomes louder as it crosses the front of your house.

You were scared for a good few seconds that your mother would speculate some sort of theory about the bike crossing the street, but you soon understood how dumb that would be. The bike could be anyone’s from Figure Eight, your street can be very deserted but a lot of people use it to cut traffic sometimes.

That’s when you hear your father speak downstairs.

“Honey! Do you think one of the neighbors got a bike?”

Hope you enjoyed this! The Dark!Rafe in this fic will be here for the next part (inspired by a request; it's a little long too). Believe me.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fluff #drew starkey #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #outer banks imagines #outer banks rafe #rafe outer banks

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asykriel · 10 months

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Love is the Death of Duty - 11.

® do not repost or translate !

☆ Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Male! Targaryen OC

☆ Status: Ongoing

☆ Summary:

“He is half of my heart.”

War made monsters of them all, but it also brought the two second sons together in a flurry of death, love, deceit and delusion. The story of Aemond Targaryen and the eldest son of Daemon and Rhaenyra, Maegor Targaryen, second of his name.

☆ Warnings: Sexual content, explicit violence, dark themes, targcest etc.

☆ AO3 ☆ || ☆ Wattpad ☆

☆ CHAPTERS: (Prologue) / ( 1 ) / ( 2 ) / ( 3 ) / ( 4 ) / ( 5 ) / ( 6 ) / ( 7 ) / ( 8 ) / ( 9 ) / ( 10 ) / ( 11 ) / ( 12 ) / ( 13 ) / ( 14 ) / ( 15 ) / (16 - WIP)

☆ Masterlist ☆ || ☆ Spotify Playlist ☆

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CHAPTER 11

Lord Corlys, all I ask of you is spare a ship and a handful of men to take my brother to Dragonstone.

I promised my mother I will keep him safe.

────────────────────────

With dawn comes the clash of steel and wood, arrows whirring through the air, the roar of dragons echoing across the tumultuous sea and flames burning brighter than the sunrise.

Maegor and Aemond flank Dorne's armada from opposite sides while Addam Velaryon with the Driftmark fleet meet them heads on. The two Targaryen Princes fly and torch in sync and this time Vhagar is not kept in the shadows as a backup plan.

Like the war machine she is, Aemond unleashes her and she seems to remember from the old days how the Dornish smelled when they got charred. It fills her with renewed vigor and youth because not even the few scorpions that manage to scrape her or latch into her flesh slow her down, instead they only make her burn with more fury. And perhaps even Saagael's ferocity reminds her of the times she fought side by side the Black Dread.

As more of the Dornish ships burn or get sunken beneath the waves by the Driftmark soldiers, Maegor steers his dragon and torches right through the enemy again, scorpions flying without precision, failing to hit the swift target. This time he doesn't turn the Cannibal to circle around and launch another attack, instead he keeps on flying straight ahead, leaving Aemond behind to assure the destruction of the fleet and the Seasnake's victory.

When the time is right, I will make my move. I trust Prince Aemond with my life, and so can you.

The black dragon soars through the skies, cutting through the clouds as his wings beat faster than ever before and Maegor has just one target in mind.

Sunspear.

Dorne, a land known for its independence and resilience, has become Maegor's obsession since last night, his mind churned with plans of conquest. And not only this, but a chance to prove himself once and for all in front of his family and anyone else that might dare question his worth.

I'll show you a real dragon.

House Martell was always too prideful, stubborn and hot blooded. It led to poor decisions and now they had to pay its long awaited due to House Targaryen.

It was Princess Alliandra Martell, seventeen of age, who became the current ruler of Dorne. Her father, Qoren Martell died at the hands of Daemon's spies, years after the first war in the Stepstones, while she was still just a child, not to young to forget however.

She has made a fatal error by sending the majority of her forces to conquer the same barren islands. An inexperienced and reckless choice enabled by her own small council. A mistake that Maegor intends to fully exploit, using her negligence to strike at the heart of Sunspear itself. Now the city is weak and it beckons to him like a ripe fruit ready for picking.

The distance between the Stepstones and Dorne is covered quickly on the back of a dragon as fast as the Cannibal, and by the break of noon a shadow begins to grow larger and larger upon the sand walls and buildings in Sunspear.

Rare clouds in the sky casting their shadow on the lands, the Dornish think at first, until the form becomes larger and clearer and they hear the deafening roar that turns their blood cold under the desert sun.

They don't get the chance to react. Maegor spares no time or mercy and he allows the Cannibal to do what he loves the most.

Burn.

Mass hysteria settles in. The people below scatter in fear, scrambling with no direction, their voices echoing with cries of panic as they try to run for their lives and find a hole to hide in.

But nothing escapes dragonfire.

Fools did not keep a single Black Scorpion in the city, sending them all with the ships instead. Chaos erupts as the remaining soldiers scramble in a desperate attempt to defend their home. But the arrows shooting at the beast do nothing against the armor that were his dark scales. It was a futile struggle against the might of a dragon and the ambition of a Targaryen.

Every corner of the city is engulfed into blaze and panic. Maegor slowly becomes drunk with bloodlust and power, laying waste to everything below him. His ears pound with adrenaline. The hopeless screams of suffering fuel him more instead of making him take pity in them and cease his attack, while the Cannibal shows them why the smallfolk call him a harbringer of death.

By now half of Sunspear and its people were in flames. A blazing inferno.

The seat of House Martell is left untouched however, on purpose. Maegor wants them to watch from the balcony of their Old Palace how he turns sand into ashes. Break their minds first so that they will bend the knee easily.

Burning the city continues, until he hears the loud rumble that reverberates through the air. The sign that Maegor was eagerly waiting to hear. It meant only long awaited victory and peace of mind for him, knowing that his lover is unscathed. Not that he ever doubted him or his dragon's might.

Aemond and Vhagar, having decimated the Dornish ships alongside the Seasnake's fleet, appear on the horizon and the older Prince's eye is fixed upon the blazing city, his nephew's masterpiece. The scorching ceases momentarily so that the two of them can be reunited in the air. Maegor wastes no time and takes the lead, flying the Cannibal straight towards the Old Palace with Vhagar on his tail, their presence a formidable display of power.

The two dragons land in front of the castle's gates, flattening whatever structures or humans were under them and the ground shakes under their sheer size.

Aemond and Maegor dismount and they begin walking together in silence, stealing a few glances from eachother, towards the last feeble display of defiance. No one tries to oppose or stop them. The surviving Dornish soldiers, now faced with the terrifying presence of the Targaryen dragons, can only submit to their riders and they lay down their weapons as both beasts bare their sword like teeth.

Even if she did not burn this time, the sight of Vhagar alone, sends shivers down the spines of the Dornish people. The stories of Visenya Targaryen riding Vhagar during the time of Aegon the Conqueror have been passed down through generations. The dragon's flames had scorched the Dornish lands, leaving scars upon the sands that still whispered tales of devastation.

Now, Vhagar's presence once again cast a long shadow over Dorne. The people see in her the symbol of the Targaryen might that almost crushed their ancestors' resistance. And today might be the day when she might finish what she started decades ago.

As the two Targaryen enter the main hall of Old Palace, the Princess, her steward and two knights from her guard meet them halfway, the rest of her small council and the courtiers watch in fear and anxiety from the shadows, behind pillars or from balconies. Maegor notes how she immediately locks eyes with him and Aemond, walking with a regal aura around her, trying to seem like she is still in power while her city is smoldering.

Aemond watches her and her knights carefully, a hand on the hilt of his sword as his shoulder is pressed against his nephew's, both of them keeping close to each other at all times. If anything goes wrong he is confident him and Maegor alone could slice through all of them without the aid of their dragons.

"Alliandra Martell." Maegor calls out first, the tone of his voice cold and commanding.

"Maegor and Aemond Targaryen." She mirrors him but her tone is full of spite at the word 'Targaryen'.

Maegor's jaw clenches slightly.

"Your pathetic attempts to claim the Stepstones have left your home vulnerable and weakened. Without an army too, I made sure of it." Aemond scoffs at her and the two knights exchange worried looks behind her back. A few gasps are heard throughout the hall at the news.

"Surrender now, and I will spare further bloodshed. Dorne shall bend the knee and unite under the Crown's rule with the rest of the kingdoms." Maegor wastes no time laying out exactly what he wants. House Martell has no options left anyway. Him and Aemond could wipe out every trace of their bloodline, if bastard-making was not one of their main hobbies.

Hushed whispers begin to echo around the main hall, some blaming the poor decisions of the Princess and being in favor of uniting with the rest of the kingdoms. Even in Dorne, Targaryen loyalists emerge, especially in the face of death.

"Our sands have weathered countless storms, including you, Targaryens . We shall weather this one too." Princess Alliandra, her expression a mix of defiance and desperation, takes a step forward.

"Dragonfire fire burns hotter than any Dornish sun, you should know this by now." Aemond says sharply.

"I'm being generous by giving you a choice, bend the knee and spare the rest of your city and people. I will take Dorne either way, it matters not to me if it's just sand and ash." Maegor was slowly starting to lose his patience going back and forth with her. The Princess needs to decide fast.

The courtiers' voices become louder by now but neither Princes pay attention to them.

"You're no better than Daemon Targaryen. He did the right thing by naming you after a mad tyrant. Perhaps you will have the same fate as him?"

"Watch your tongue." Aemond sneers at her, taking a step in front of Maegor, protectively.

The two Dornish knights both instinctively grip their curved swords.

The younger Prince places his hand on his uncle's elbow, rubbing an unseen thumb against the fabric of his coat to get him to relax.

"Spare me the history lessons. You don't know anything about my house. And I'm starting to lose my patience." Maegor glares at her harshly.

Time is ticking against the Martell.

"Perhaps some more burning will make the Princess decide faster , wouldn't you say nephew?"

Before Maegor could answer his uncle, the steward excuses himself and takes Alliandra aside where they are joined by the rest of the Martell council. What begins as a hushed choir of whispers soon starts into senseless bickering and both Princes can feel their nerves stretched out to a breaking point, especially Maegor who was already irritated from the start.

"Your time has ran out Princess. I've been more than patient, considering I've been dealing with your Triarchy mongrels for a long time." Maegor barks, his voice echoing through the hall. This seems to finally get the Princess and her council to fall silent.

A subtle change is noted by both Princes, Alliandra Martell no longer holds her head high and confident, instead she is frowning at them with visible anger on her face.

Aemond keeps a close eye on her. Wary of the sudden change of attitude.

Instead of her coming before them again to speak, the steward, an elderly Martell man does, bowing his head and keeping it low when he closes some of the distance between them.

"My Princes, we accept your conditions and generous offer to unite under the same Crown, but we beg of you, spare the rest of Dorne."

This is it? All her initial defiance just to be outpowered by her own council?

Somehow Aemond is not buying it, but nonetheless he gives his nod of approval when his nephew glances at him, almost as surprised as him by the sudden change.

"Some wisdom at last."

(Art by me)

────────────────────────

Time passes quickly and by the time the flames throughout the city die out, night settles in, as well as momentarily peace.

Realizing that resistance is futile, the Martell Princess feigns submission and disappears from their sight, leaving her steward to invite Maegor and Aemond to a lavish feast in their honor as it was protocol. The Targaryen Princes, reluctantly accept the invitation, keeping their guard raised with a sense of caution lingering in their hearts, while the dragons still rest right where they were left, keeping guard and forbidding anyone to enter or exit the castle.

While preparations for the feast are taking place, Aemond never leaves his nephew's side. They are both given their own private quarters, but neither of them feel comfortable being alone in what not long ago was their enemy's lair.

"We should send out ravens." Aemond suddenly speaks from the large divan he is lounging in. He raises his nose from a random Dornish book he picked to look at his nephew.

"I'm sure they found out from other sources by now." Maegor sighs, leaning back against the armchair he is sitting in. Weeks of build up exhaustion really caught up with him by now. All he wishes is to be done with this charade and fly out somewhere with Aemond where he would have some peace alone in his company. He's not exactly keen on breaking bread with the Dornish and faking enjoyment, especially since some hours ago he was burning down half of Sunspear.

"Which is why we should personally send ravens. Unless we want our families to go at each other's throat for this piece of land." Aemond puts down the book and stands up from the divan.

"You know they will either way. But if you insist, write the letter, uncle, I trust your words better than my own." Maegor closes his eyes, resting the back of his head against the armchair as he feels his uncle's fingers carding through his silver locks.

Just for a fleeting moment he wants to freeze time like this. Even behind enemy lines Aemond could put him at ease with simple gestures.

"There's still some time left. Rest up my Prince." Aemond leans over to plant a kiss on his nephew's forehead before he takes a seat at the desk, paper and quill in hand.

The corners of Maegor's mouth twitch into a subtle smile and soon enough he dozes off, lulled by the sound of the hawk quill dragging ink against the paper.

With that, Aemond sets to work, allowing himself the freedom to carefully write a piece of information that none of the possible sources know. Not even his nephew, at least not yet. He keeps it short and brief, no need for bragging and boasting in a letter.

They could do that later on when they would eventually return to the capital, or at least Aemond hopes they will. He still has to find a way to deal with his mother and grandfather and keep his drunkard and nosey brother at bay, if he wants to take Maegor back to King's Landing with him. For now their relationship needs to stay private, away from the prying ears and eyes of his Hightower side of the family. If the harsh slap that his mother would deliver to Aemond's face, would be the only consequence that resulted from their relationship becoming public, the Prince can gladly take it. But he knows there's no way the punishment will be so light. And worse, Maegor will surely suffer more gravely than him.

At least he comforts himself with the thought that Helaena would surely take their side and support them, she knows best what's it like to be unable to choose who you want to love.

Outside of the quarters, across the hallways, the ruckus of the servants making the final feast preparations grows louder. It doesn't take long for a guard to lightly knock on the door, without daring to enter. Aemond doesn't answer verbally, so that his nephew can be spared a few more moments of sleep. They'll attend the feast when they please, now that Dorne was under their rule.

Instead, he makes his way to the door and demands a raven cage to be sent over. Naturally the guard obeys and swiftly fulfills the command with no complaints. He is simply glad to be alive. Even if a lot of Dornish people hold deep hatred for the Targaryens, House Martell especially, they are now powerless. Between submission and dying an agonizing death ripped apart or burned to death by a dragon, the choice is obvious.

Once the letter is complete, the older Prince rereads it twice before writing another copy, sealing both of them with melted wax and the Targaryen seal. Two ravens are sent with the letters, one meant for the Iron Throne and the other for Dragonstone.

────────────────────────

I pen this letter with a heart filled with pride and admiration for my beloved nephew, Prince Maegor Targaryen, Second of his name. In the recent war for the Stepstones, Prince Maegor displayed unparalleled courage, determination, and leadership. He led our forces with unwavering resolve, fought fiercely in the battles, and ultimately triumphed in conquering Sunspear and the lands of Dorne. He succeeded what the Conqueror before us could not, uniting all Seven Kingdoms under the same rule.

It is with great honor and privilege that I announce to you all that, in recognition of his valor and dedication, I proclaim Maegor Targaryen as the Prince of Dorne and Ruler of Sunspear. His tireless efforts and sacrifices have earned him this title, and I have no doubt that under the Crown, Dorne will see a new era of unity, prosperity, and peace.

In the name of House Targaryen and the Iron Throne, I ask all the Lords and Ladies of the Seven Kingdoms to recognize Prince Maegor Targaryen as the rightful ruler of Dorne and offer their loyalty and support to his rule and rightful claim.

Prince Aemond Targaryen.

────────────────────────

The older Prince is positive his nephew will be as shocked as the recipients of the letters when he finds out about his titles. But he deserves them, and who else is better fit than Aemond to give them to him?

Poor Maegor is still sleeping soundly in that armchair, exactly how his uncle left him. Aemond lets out a silent chuckle and barely brings himself to stand from the desk. He does not want to do this, but they need to show their faces for a few hours in the main hall at least, unless they want House Martell to get delusional ideas once again.

"Ñuha jorrāelagon, dombo ēdrugon." The older Prince whispers against his nephews ear.

Maegor jolts awake, finding Aemond looming over him, hands on both sides of the armchair.

"Qybor." Maegor groans at Aemond, his body relaxing in an instance at the familiar face so close to his own.

"It's time for the feast, nephew. You can rest more, after." Aemond smiles at his annoyed face. His hands are itching for more contact, but if they want to ever reach that feast he needs to keep himself in check. And his nephew.

Maegor groans louder in annoyance, rolling his eyes. He doesn't want to endure any second longer in the presence of any Martell or Dornishman.

"Don't worry, we can leave as soon as dawn breaks and we settle our affairs here. I've already sent out the letters." Aemond reassures him.

"No. We leave after the feast, I'm not planning to exceed my stay in Dorne." Maegor stands up stretching his tired arms. Even at night the heat and dry air of the desert is unbearable, especially since he was still cladded in his dragonrider garments. He could swear he has sand in his boots too.

"Our dragons are tired as well as we are. You especially. When was the last time you had a good night's sleep, Maegor?" Aemond rubs over his eyepatch, turning back to the desk to dispose of any drafts he started.

Tiredness is slowly creeping on to him as well but he can endure it longer, after all his arrival is still a recent one. It was Maegor who had weeks of fighting before him and he's surprised that his nephew is still holding himself out so brazenly. It's to be expected, he's a dragon and a warrior.

"If my head wasn't spinning from all the Arbor wine that night, I'd say when I had you in my bed." Maegor follows his uncle, closing the distance between them. He hugs Aemond from behind, pressing him against the edge of the desk.

In a year at most, Aemond is sure that Maegor will reach his height, if not even surpass him.

"You can have me in your bed again. After the feast." The older Prince emphasizes and turns around to face him.

Maegor scoffs at the sound of that dreaded dinner again and drops his hands to his uncle's waist.

"Or I could have you now and we can forget about that whole charade. We can have our own celebration in private." The younger Prince presses his lips against the side of his uncle's neck.

Aemond exhales a shaky breath. He can feel his willpower and composure slowly slipping. His nephew is turning into a cunning fiend right before his eyes, but he has to resist the temptation.

"You know how things work, Maegor. Bare with it for just a few hours." He runs a hand through his nephew's hair, untying the messy half ponytail that were keeping his silver bangs from Maegor's eyes.

Teeth suddenly sink into the side of his neck and Aemond lets out a soft wince. Someone clearly doesn't agree with him.

"Fine. But you need to make up for this, uncle." Maegor sighs dramatically and raises his head from his neck to look at him.

"Ao gīmigon kesan, ��uha dārilaros." Aemond chuckles. His nephew's childish stubborness and playful antics are like a breath of fresh air after the recent events.

A glint of something shines in the younger Prince's odd colored eyes.

Suddenly Maegor presses his lips against his uncle's and Aemond soon enough finds himself with his back flat against the desk, his nephew's body pushing down on his own.

Aemond groans in his mouth and Maegor keeps kissing him like his uncle is his sole lifeline. Wild and desperate. Maybe it was the pent up anger and exhaustion that gathered during the weeks at war, but he's starving and hungry for Aemond, worse than before their first night together.

A knock at the door reminds the older Prince that he needs to recollect his scattered thoughts and find his willpower again to be able to attend to their duties. However, Maegor doesn't seem to pay attention to it.

His uncle's fist in his hair yanking his head back snaps Maegor out from his feverish state. They stare at each other a little longer and Aemond notes how wide his nephew's pupils are blown.

You'll be the death of me.

Aemond clears his voice. Another knock, and the steward's voice excusing himself can be heard from outside the quarters.

Maegor slams a fist against the desk, groaning in annoyance as Aemond stands up, fixing his clothes before fixing his nephew's garments as well.

────────────────────────

The feast is held in the grand hall of Old Palace, with house Martell courtiers and Targaryen loyalist nobles gathering to witness the pivotal moment.

Much to both of their irritation, the Princes are seated opposite from each other at the high table. Maegor next to the Martell Princess at one end and Aemond at the other end next to the steward.

The younger Prince could feel his blood boil the moment he sat himself in the chair and felt Princess Alliandra's presence uncomfortably close to him. This arrangement was on purpose, he's sure of it.

Aemond watches him all the time and begs him silently to keep his calm, for his sake at least. Maegor swallows down his anger and keeps his usual stoic facade in front of all the eyes that are upon him. Only one matters however, his uncle's violet gaze is the only ounce of comfort that keeps him grounded and collected.

All kinds of lavish dishes and drinks are brought out, carried by the servants on huge plates. Neither Aemond nor Maegor touch anything before they make sure everyone around them does. After all, if pride is the first thing house Martell is renowned for, poisons are a close second. They have to be vigilant.

Maegor tries to zone out and shut off all the noises and voices around him until he feels a light touch on his arm that makes his anger flare out instantly.

"Prince Maegor, I offer my deepest apologies. My house and people have a lot of pride, it's not like us to bend the knee so easily, surely you can understand." Alliandra Martell speaks in a smooth voice, rubbing her hand over his forearm.

For a swift second Maegor contemplates if he should rip her hand off but sucks in a sharp breath instead, removing his arm from her touch politely as he hums in approval. If he speaks now he'll say something that he'll regret. What is the Princess even playing at? First she wishes death upon him and now she's trying to seduce him.

At the opposite side of the table Aemond buries his nose in a wine cup so that the anger that makes his expression contort at the sight displayed before him doesn't become so obvious. His nephew meets his violet glare with an apologetic one and Aemond shakes his head. It's not Maegor's fault. They both have to bear this night without deciding to burn down the other half of Sunspear still standing.

The Martell Princess doesn't quite catch the hint unfortunately and keeps touching and trying to make conversation with Maegor. He's so tensed up he can feel his flesh hurting.

Suddenly she stands up, and the hall falls silent, the courtiers moving their attention to her. Aemond glares daggers at the Princess but it seems like she either does not see him or simply ignores him.

"After many thoughts and advice from my council I wish to come forth with a proposal, one that will perhaps solidify the union between Dorne and the rest of the kingdoms." Alliandra says looking at Maegor with a smile on her lips, fake obviously, as she raises her wine cup.

The Prince raises an eyebrow and only nods, feigning interest. He's certain delusion runs deep through house Martell but he needs to play along for now.

"I propose we marry each other, that way we can strengthen our houses and forget about our clashes."

Aemond's slams his empty wine cup loudly against the table, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword at the audacity. All attention falls to him now.

However, before Aemond can utter a word, Maegor lets out a harsh, mocking laugh that reverberates through the grand hall.

"Marry you? Have you forgotten your place, Princess? Shall I remind you that I've brought Dorne to its knees along with you? You must confuse the term prisoner with betrothed." Maegor lets out another chuckle, staring at the Martell from his chair.

"I haven't, but I believe this marriage would be beneficial to the realm and our houses." Alliandra's expression falters but she tries to keep her composure and deceitful smile.

The Prince scoffs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He stands up from his chair, towering over the Martell Princess as he looks down on her.

"Half of Sunspear is in ruins, your army is charred and you've lost your kingdom. This isn't an alliance proposal, it's an act of pathetic desperation. And even if the circumstances were different, I already belong to someone Princess, someone who will have my heart until the end of time." Maegor eyes search for his uncle's for a moment then they return to lock with Alliandra's.

With her plan crumbling before her, Princess Alliandra's expression turns dark with anger and her facade of hospitality is shattered as she returns to her true self from the beginning.

"You dare to mock and reject me?" she hisses, her hand reaching into a hidden pocket of her dress from behind, from an angle where Maegor can't see.

But Aemond can. And his sharp eye is following her closely as all of his senses are on high alert.

"Have I not been clear enough, Princess? Stop embarrassing yourself any further in front of your whole court while I'm still asking nicely." Maegor scowls at her, clenching his jaw and fists and doing his best to control the anger that was boiling under his skin.

"Prince Maegor, Prince Aemond, I wish to make a toast." The old steward suddenly calls to the Targaryens as he stands up from his chair next to the older Prince, wine cup in hand.

This brief distraction is all that Alliandra needs. In a fit of rage and swift motions, she pulls out a small vial from the hidden pocket and quickly brings it to her lips.

By the time Aemond snaps back his attention towards his nephew it's too late.

With a sinister smirk, she forcefully presses her lips against Maegor's, forcing him to swallow down the liquid.

Gasps echoes through the hall as the horrifying scene unfolds before the courtier's eyes.

Maegor grabs her by the throat and she laughs in his face. He tries to choke her out but almost instantly he feels all the strength draining from his body. His knees buckle under his weight and he falls against the table, his vision clouding. A surge of immense pain follows and he grits his teeth trying to cling to consciousness.

"You treacherous harlot!" Letting out a snarl of desperation Aemond jumps over the table, drawing out his sword in the process and slicing through the steward who, no doubt had a big part to play in this sick plan. Only two foolish guards try to stop him from reaching the Princess, the same two from earlier.

"I'll send your father my deepest condolences." Princess Alliandra leans over Maegor, whispering in his ear.

"A shame though, you were such a looker." She traces a nail over a thin scar across his left cheek.

Adrenaline courses through his veins. Acting on instinct, Maegor musters all remaining strength left and, with a fierce determination, he hurls himself from Alliandra's embrace against the floor. He shoves his fingers down his throat, retching until he manages to vomit all of the contents of his stomach in an attempt to rid his body from the poison before it's too late.

Aemond mercilessly cuts through the guards, blinded by sheer fury before he rushes to his nephew's side.

"Seize her!" Aemond shouts but no one dares to move yet, too frozen with shock or fear or perhaps they are all part of her plan.

The loud growls and restless rumbling of the two dragons right outside the castle walls reminds them of their presence and they quickly make up their minds. By now both beasts sensed something was wrong, especially the Cannibal through his strong bond with Maegor. Eventually house Martell's own guards finally seize their former ruler, awaiting further orders from the older Targaryen.

Princess Alliandra simply stares at Aemond with a satisfied smile on her lips. She knows the outcome of this, but if she can take at least one Targaryen with her, it's a victory in her book.

"Qibor.." Maegor coughs and lets out raspy breaths.

"Shh Maegor. Ȳdra daor ȳdragon, vīlībagon. Nyke kostagon daor ojughagon ao." Aemond's hands tremble as they cup his nephew's face. Suddenly panic settles in, the thought of losing Maegor like this before they even got the chance to spend their days together is unbearable.

Whatever the poison, it is a very potent one and Maegor would surely be dead by now if it wasn't for his quick thinking. Judging by his state, there are still some traces of it left in his system.

Rushing to the table, Aemond grabs a bowl of salt and pours it into a water pitcher before running back to his nephew. He forces Maegor to drink large gulps of salt water and waits until his nephew starts retching and vomiting again until there's nothing left to come out from his body.

"You fool, he already swallowed some of it. Your nephew will die and you will make sure to watch." A sudden laugh makes Aemond see red.

The urge to cut Alliandra's head off her shoulders gnaws at him, but he can't allow her such a sweet, painless death. No. She needs to suffer the same way she made Maegor suffer.

"I'll make you pay. You and all of your treacherous leeches that aided you. Take her outside." The tone of Aemond's voice drops to a dangerously calm.

Throwing his nephew's arm over his shoulder and wrapping an arm around his waist, Aemond heaves him up. Maegor feels like he was threading the thin line between consciousness and total darkness while the sharp pain still tears through him, from head to toe. His legs feel boneless as he is suddenly raised up, but he struggles to stand despite the pain and helplesness and stumbles along, supported by his uncle. The guards follow, Alliandra now silent behind them.

Even in this state, Maegor is raging in his head, angry that he ended up being defeated so easily.

Angry that he cannot rip the Martell bitch limb by limb with his bare hands.

At the entrance of the Old Palace, the dragons are restless and distraught under the night sky. At the sight of his rider's weak body getting dragged by Aemond, the Cannibal lets out a roar, seething with fury. The beast lowers his head bearing his teeth and growling dangerously at Aemond. Vhagar rumbles and snaps her jaws in the air, close to Saagael's head as a warning.

"Daor! Lykirī!" The older Prince shouts at the two beasts. The last thing he needs is for them to start ripping each other apart.

Maegor groans painfully trying extend a hand to his dragon. The moment he lets go of his uncle however, he almost crumbles to the ground if not for Aemond to pull him back against his body.

The Cannibal lowers his head further, bringing it closer to his rider. He inhales and exhales deeply, taking in the scent of the young Prince before he lets out a low, silent cry.

"Ziry gōntan bisa." Aemond tells the beast and there's no doubt that he immediately understands by the way he reacts.

Slitted sapphire eyes like Aemond's gem get locked on Alliandra's form. Her face suddenly drains of color when she meets the Cannibal's cold glare.

"Bring her over."

The guards reluctantly obey and approach the Princes, all while both Vhagar and Saagael watch, sizing them up with a predatory glare as the men cower in fear before them.

There's no trace of pride or ambition left on the Martell's face. All of her previous confidence and foolish bravery is now replaced by dread and fear.

"Mazverdagon zirȳ hīghagon."

A final command is given.

Make them scream

Before the guards or the Princess can react, both dragons lower their head in synch, opening their massive jaws and closing them around the three at the same time, with Alliandra being in the middle. Despite their sheer size, both Vhagar and the Cannibal act with precision, careful to keep their main target alive long enough to be able to feel the pain. The two guards are ripped apart swiftly and almost too painlessly, they aren't the main course however. Alliandra has the privilege of getting torn apart methodically, limb to limb like Maegor wished until her agonizing screams turn into a gurgles and eventually die out completely just as quick as they started.

If they had any time to spare Aemond would have personally dealt with her, but Maegor is the priority now and he can feel him get weaker by the minute. There's no time to waste. He needs to take him to be tended by maesters as fast as possible.

Staying in Sunspear is not an option. After the scheme that Alliandra pulled on them, there's no one trustworthy in Dorne and he's not stupid to risk getting Maegor poisoned again and killed under the pretext of receiving medicine and care.

The Stepstones are the closest, but even if the Seasnake's maesters are skilled, there's isn't a lot they can do with the few rations left and even less medicine.

The second closest option is King's Landing. That plan too falls through as Aemond can't risk suddenly bringing Maegor in such a vulnerable state. He barely got away with flying to the Stepstones in the first place, after much nagging from his mother and grandfather. It will raise up too much suspicion if he suddenly shows up with his nephew like this and it will surely cause an even bigger rift between their families as he's certain both Daemon and Rhaenyra would misinterpret and accuse him of poisoning the younger Prince instead.

So Aemond chooses the third option, the safest bet. For Maegor at least.

Dragonstone.

────────────────────────

Translations:

Ñuha jorrāelagon, dombo ēdrugon = My love, wake up

Qybor = Uncle

Ao gīmigon kesan, ñuha dārilaros = You know I will, my Prince

Ȳdra daor ȳdragon, vīlībagon. Nyke kostagon daor ojughagon ao = Don't speak, fight. I can't lose you

Ziry gōntan bisa = She did this

Mazverdagon zirȳ hīghagon = Make them scream

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himbobathwater · 4 months

Text

VERY VERY VERY IMPORTANT POST!!! DO NOT SKIP OVER THIS

it has come to my attention that ao3 is unfortunately modded by zionists. as an anti zionist jew this is not only disheartening but appalling. i've been using the site for years both to read and publish fanfic, and seeing this news is very disturbing to me.

HOWEVER. ao3 is a nonprofit website. by simply using it, you aren't giving them any money. so what do we do from here?

well it's simple. just don't give them money. don't donate to them. use an adblocker or vpn if you really want to be sure. just visiting and using the site as normal does not benefit them monetarily at all. all of my fics are accessible regardless of if you have an account, and many writers are the same. so if you haven't already, don't make an account.

in the near future, i will be looking for alternative websites to post my work. i will not be using wattpad, as i have my own issues with it. all of my work on ao3 will remain up, and i will continue to post my work there for the time being, however once i find an alternative place to post my work i will be posting it there alongside posting on ao3 (in that case, please hit me up with any recommendations).

remember-- protesting works. boycotting works. but when the thing you're boycotting doesn't make any money in the first place, it's all performance. this is an issue that is very personal to me, and i've been doing a lot of work behind the scenes to make my voice heard. i encourage all of you to do the same. go to a protest. call your representatives. boycott where it matters.

the most important thing to remember is that zionism hurts everyone, even jews. i'll keep doing what i can on my end. i'll see you all later.

#text post #toastposting #palestine #free gaza #free palestine

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tamelee · 9 days

Note

i gotta say that wattpad sns fics kinda hit different

i might be biased because i read my first sns fics on wattpad but they lowkey kinda just capture my attention plus the reader comments on random sentences lmao

where do you think is the best place to read sns ff?

Hi @mxhirus ! Oh I have a confession to make... I've never read SNS fics outside of ao3. It's definitely ao3 for me, but that may be biased from me as well>< I got scolded by my friend because my opinion on y/n fics isn't great, so she sent me a few from Tokyorev to read on Wattpad. Well, my opinion didn't change after reading them. I have thoughts on this... But I'll digress... Reading on Wattpad is annoying, I don't like it. Do you pay for it? These advertisements in between are obnoxious. If you don't 'save' the story then forget finding it again because it's literally gone when the stupid app logs you out every time for no reason. Sometimes it doesn't swipe correctly and it sends you a chapter back, but before you can correct that mistake, you first have to sit through a bunch of advertisements again omg. (Unless you of course pay which is a question that pops up every chapter too -.-) And they're loooooong as well D: Or ugh, those banners that literally cover the text, hello??? None of this is an issue on ao3. The little side-comments... I guess it's nice to read in between? I'm not sure if I'd feel the same as a writer though. There was one fic where the writer made a decision and there were a bunch of comments saying how they were going to quit reading and bashing them. It's a bit of a double-edged sword I think.

#asktamelee #mxhirus #oh and ff is a bit hard to navigate #you can't narrow down the results for a specific ship?#If you look for Naruto and Sasuke #most of the time there's some other random character in between #like hello no pls #why aren't ships categorized??? xD #Or am I missing something

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randomshyperson · 2 years

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Mystery Club - Chapter Ten - Wanda Maximoff x Reader Series

Summary: Returning to your hometown five years after leaving everything behind, including your best friend, is no easy feat. Getting involved in a secret club wasn't in the plans either. Or the one based on Life is Strange.

Warnings: (+18) high school au, best friends to lovers, mild/heavy angst mentions with happy happing, use of legal substances (alcohol, marijuana), violence, verbal aggression, explicit language, smut, triggers regarding sexual assault, mentions of death, grieving, hints of depression and anxiety, panic attacks, a lot of domesticity.

A/N-> So, the last chapter is here people! I made an extra chapter with some deleted scenes that I'll publish after this one. All of your reviews were read and truly appreciated, every compliment even the smallest one has a special place in my heart. Thank you all

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad || Series Masterlist

--//--

Chapter Ten - The End of a Mystery

A little breathlessly, you reached the last step.

The door to the lighthouse was open, and once you stepped through, the sun's rays hit your face causing you to narrow your eyes and bow your head.

Wanda turned her face as she heard you coming. "You took your time, malysh. I thought I was going to have to pick you up." She teases making you smile.

Loosening the tie around your neck, you approach her, taking the empty seat next to her. Wanda looks away, to the sunset, and so do you.

"Sorry, my father got a little carried away at the end." You explain with a tired sigh. "But the place is sold at last."

Wanda looks at you again, and nods in understanding, moving her free hand to your thigh. "How are you feeling?"

You shrug. "Well, I guess. It's not like I didn't already think the house was sold. It was like saying goodbye to the same thing twice." You try to explain, and Wanda nods, moving closer to kiss your cheek. You smile and move your hand to hers on top of your thigh. With a soft sigh, you complete, "He took some of the money, too. Jen guided the whole thing, and Dad wanted to make sure Clint gets some help with the treatment."

Wanda sees the way your shoulders are tense and settles a little closer against you. "What about his hearing? Will it come back?"

You swallow dryly and deny it with your head. "We're going to pay for everything, though. I wanted it that way. Even if he... you know."

"I know." Wanda interrupts with a sad smile. "I told Dad and Charles about that by the way." You are surprised, and Wanda sighs. "I was hoping they would come here, and participate, but Dad said he didn't want to. And Charles doesn't think it's his place. The two of them have moved on, you see. I guess it's my turn now."

You squeezed her hand and moved your head to kiss her forehead. "We will be doing it together, Wands, that's all that matters."

That makes her smile. Wanda rests her head against your shoulder and waits for the sunset to be almost over before making any mention of getting up.

Releasing her hand to hold the urn of ashes more firmly, she stands. You follow her to the edge of the lighthouse.

Down below, on the beach, a small crowd is forming, and you point for Wanda to look at. She gives a confused laugh when she does so.

"What...?"

"The original mystery club." You say giving a corner smile. "Well, the second original, of course." You joke, waving to all your - and Wanda's - friends below. "They wanted to say goodbye to Pietro too."

She smiles half tearfully, and you slip an arm around her shoulders.

Taking a deep breath, Wanda opens the urn. "That's him. What's left at least." She murmurs. "This lighthouse was his favorite place."

You move your hand to her back, and stroke it to reassure her. Wanda swallows dryly, looking on the verge of tears. She moves one hand to take yours and places both on the urn.

"Teper' ty mozhesh' pokoit'sya s mirom, starshiy brat. YA budu v bezopasnosti i bol'she ne budu odna." She whispers before tilting the urn, causing Pietro's ashes to fly in the wind.

You just hold Wanda for a moment, the sunset gives way to night, and the club folks set up a bonfire. There is a small space for Pietro's urn in a compartment of the lighthouse now, and Wanda stows the item there before sitting back down.

"Are you going to stay up here? I can grab us something to eat..."

She denies it with her head, extending her hand for you to take. When you do, she gives a gentle tug for you to sit beside her.

"Just stay here with me for a while." She asks, leaning her head on your shoulder when you are comfortable in your seat. "I don't want to...talk to anyone but you yet."

"Okay." You murmur sympathetically, one of your hands landing on her thigh.

There is a long pause between you, where you are more than content to just listen to Wanda breathe and watch the starry night ahead of you. But she moves your hands together to play with your fingers, which she only does when she is anxious.

"Can you tell me about the trial?" She asks in a small voice, and you blink a little in surprise at the topic. Wanda swallows dryly. "I just didn't have the courage to ask Yelena, or anyone else..."

You sigh. "I can, but I need to tell you something first." Turning your face toward her, you wait for her to look at you again. Once she does, you offer a small smile before saying, "No one holds any grudges against you, Wanda. Not Yelena, least of all me, nobody. You understand that, don't you?"

She sniffles a little, looking down. "I'm trying to believe that..."

You move your free hand to her face to bring her gaze back to yours. "I promise you it's true." You say gently. "What happened was... sick. Traumatic. Even if the act didn't in fact happen, you were drugged and almost..." You cut yourself off, swallowing dryly to push the anger down. "It's the kind of thing that scares, Wands. And it hurts. And no one held it against you for giving up your statement."

She breaks into a sob, however, looking away again. "I'm so ashamed!" She confesses between sobs. "I'm just so sorry. I should...I should want him locked up, but I just don't want to think about it, just remembering I just-"

"Hey, it's okay, come here." You interrupt her sobs, pulling her into your lap. She hugs you tightly, smothering her sobs into you.

This is not the first time this has happened. Ever since she found out about the party weeks ago, Wanda has been having small panic episodes. You know she thinks about him, dreams of hazy images from that night, and can't taste alcohol without remembering the glass Doom handed her. The therapist at the hospital said that the healing would take time and that even then, nothing could erase this from her life. All you could do was be there for her.

Wanda chose not to testify against Doom in court because she couldn't talk about that night without having a panic attack. Everyone understood, but she carried a great deal of guilt about it. You supported her and told her how since he was arrested, many other girls from the university and even older victims had come forward and testified against him, and he was convicted anyway, and this seemed to take some of the weight off her shoulders.

Her breathing softened as she stopped crying, and you continued your caresses on her back.

"[...] Mr.Shostakov was convicted too." You continue the story, feeling Wanda settling down. "Yelena didn't even show up. I don't think I've ever seen her so angry since she heard that the drugs were sold by him."

Wanda sniffles softly, bringing a hand to her face to wipe it away. "What's going to happen to them?"

"I heard that Melina is going to sell the house." You retort. "Since Natasha has also been kicked out of the Institute with Barton, and is moving in with Maria, she wants a smaller place. Just for her and Yelena, who soon will be off to college."

Wanda slips an arm behind your back, sinking deeper into you. "Barton apologized to me." She counters, and you let out a surprised exclamation. "He didn't have the guts to look me in the face though. He sent an email, a huge one. I couldn't finish it, I thought I was going to throw up."

"Sorry, babe." You murmur, kissing the top of her head. She sighs.

"It's okay, they were words of guilt, but it's better than nothing." She comments. "I'll never be able to forgive him, but I guess karma's done its job."

You give a short laugh, hugging tighter, and Wanda sighs contentedly at your warmth. "I hope you don't hate me for keeping him out of jail."

Wanda frowns, and her indignation at the phrase is such that she pulls her face away from your chest to look away. "Hate you? I would never hate you!"

You chuckle clumsily, putting your hands on her thighs on each side of your body. "I'm just talking about my deal with the Bartons..."

Wanda rolls her eyes, moving her hands to your cheeks. "I know, and that's ridiculous. I love you, end of the story. Clint was an asshole and caused an accident, and you made him deaf. I'd say we're even."

You grunt lightly. "Wands..."

She laughs. "Hey, I know. Not pressing charges against him, letting the adults of the day take all the blame so he doesn't press charges against you for the assault. I get it all. I would never hate you for staying out of jail so you can be here with me." She comments with a chuckle, moving her hands to your shoulders to kiss you softly.

Wanda chuckles faintly against your lips as you kiss her hard. "Don't kiss me like that..." She whispers, closing her eyes as your lips rub against her jaw, moving down her neck.

You laugh confused, "And why is that?"

"We can't have sex right next to Pietro's urn..."

You let out a laugh against her collarbone, before pulling away. "You're absolutely right." You say, stealing a long kiss before saying. "How about we go get that food now?"

"Lovely idea." She kisses you before getting up, her hand entwining in yours on the way to the beach.

The club staff was all around when you came down at the bonfire, and many of them - especially Wanda's old friends, like Carol Danvers and Maria Rambeau - quickly hugged her.

You went after food as she greeted the girls.

"What's with the fancy suit, Stark?" Jean asked curiously as you reached the snack table. You gave a weak laugh.

"It was a request from my father, that I dress formally for the sale of the house. And well, I didn't have any dress..."

Jean laughed lightly, but your gaze became curious. "Sale of the house? I didn't know your father lived here."

You deny it with your head. "He doesn't. But apparently, no one has sold the abandoned properties in the plant area. And well, my other father died, so everything that was his became mine..."

"Got it." Jean gave a wink. "I heard that the city government sold that area to the Mill."

You nodded, pouring some juice for you and Wanda. "Yes, it was the Osborn people who bought it from me. And they're calling all the former owners to get the land."

"Full value?"

"Yep."

"Cool." Jean comments. "So you're super rich again?"

You chuckle awkwardly. "I guess so."

"Great, you can help fix the plumbing in the lighthouse house." Jean jokingly retorts, making you laugh as well. She gives you a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Relax, I'm teasing you! But hey, this is an amazing thing, isn't it? Now you can do whatever you want. Even travel the world with your girl. I'd do something like that."

You smile, holding up both glasses. "Well, Jean, in this case, I'll be sure to buy you something travel related for your birthday." You tell her gently, and she looks very happy at the possibility.

Wanda has found a seat near the sand as you join her again. She picks up the plate of snacks that you have propped up on your elbow so that you sit next to her.

You eat in comfortable silence for a moment, just watching the tide rise and fall.

Wanda hugs her knees after a while and looks at the distant campfire before looking back at you.

"Do you think they will last?" she asks, and you frown in confusion before understanding the question.

She is talking about the club. "You don't think so?"

Wanda laughs lightly, shaking her head. "I have no idea really." She confesses truthfully. "When I have a real job, and I'm too grown up to care about these things, and you're being something amazing somewhere, and everyone else is graduated. Will the club last, or will the whole thing turn to dust?"

You have a frown and your fingers in the sand. "What do you mean I'll be something amazing somewhere?" You retort with a question, and Wanda pushes her shoulders gently against yours.

"I just mean you're brilliant." She explains. "And that no matter what you choose to do, I know you're going to be exceptional. And soon you'll be graduating, and going to an expensive college, and well...I'm going to stay here, I suppose."

You push your hair back, turning your body toward her.

"You've said a lot of things in a short time, so let's take it slow." You comment with a smile playing on your lips. Raising your hand in the air, you list with your fingers, "First of all, I don't think the mystery club will end after the veterans graduate. Recruitment is still happening, and it's the younger ones who make up most of us. And new members always come. And second, even if you get a job and as you said, become too grown up for mystery missions, you can always come here. It will always be our place."

Wanda smiles warmly, and you move your hands to hers before continuing.

"And third, most important of all, I go where you go."

Wanda chuckles sadly. "Detka..."

"What's that, you don't believe me?" You cut her off with false indignation. "Are you doubting my love, Maximoff? How can you!" Wanda grunts at your theatrics, but it becomes a loud exclamation when you advance on her, and your hands tickle all over her body. She falls back in the sand, laughing with you on top, and trying to pull away, but you only stop when there are tears of laughter in her eyes.

She breathes hard under you, and your hands go to her face. "We're eighteen, Wanda. You need to take a break and not imagine what our whole lives are going to be like all at once."

She swallows dryly, looking away from you. "I don't know how to do that." She murmurs. "Besides, it is always better to be prepared. Just in case...we ever break up."

You tug her face gently, staring her in the eyes. "That will never happen because if I have to imagine my life, we are together forever." You retort to her, smiling as she does. "Whether it's five, or fifteen, twenty, or eighty years from now. For me to propose to you; Buy an apartment, a house with a yard, or a trailer. We'll stay together. Always."

Wanda sniffles lightly, looking at you with sparkling eyes. "That's a very sweet dream, detka." She murmurs. "But in reality, you graduate. What happens when-"

"I don't know." You interrupt her gently. "And it's okay, Wanda. Do you know why? Because this here is forever. I'll think about college when the time comes. And we have a faculty here, after all, I don't have to leave Westview. It's not like-"

"I'm going back to Sokovia." She suddenly declares, and you cut yourself off in the middle of the explanation.

To your surprise, Wanda slips away, and sits down, a move you imitate. She swallows dryly and holds your hand.

"With everything that's happened, my uncles have repeated the invitation. Dad thinks it's a good idea. It would be a fresh start." She says, sighing at your shocked face. "I-I didn't say anything before because you were so busy with the trial and the house..."

"I'm not mad, just surprised." You assure her with a brief laugh, moving your other hand to hers. Swallowing dryly, you ask, "When are you going?"

She shakes her head. "Any time I want." She replies. "Dad hasn't bought the tickets yet. I told him I needed to talk to you first."

You give a sad smile. "And when do you want to go?"

She gives a sad smile, "Moya Lyubov, I don't like this place at all." She confesses truthfully, which doesn't surprise you much after all that has happened. "I have too many bad memories here. And the good ones half belonged to Pietro, and the rest are ours. I would leave right now, but I would stay for another hundred years if you asked me to."

"I can't be the person to decide for you." That's what you handle saying, conflicting emotions in your chest. Wanda sighs, nodding. "Wanda, I love you. Very much. But I would never ask you to do something that is not good for you."

"I like being around you." She assures, holding your face. "Staying here, in Westview, is not a burden around you. Ever. If anything, it's almost perfect. You make me forget all the bad shit when you're with me, and I could live here beside you if you wanted me."

You sigh, resting your forehead against hers. "It can't just be for me, baby." You murmur. "It has to be something we both want. And for me, I just want you."

Wanda frowns in confusion, but you are pulling her onto your lap and kissing her hard. She melts, but before it gets any deeper, you break off, staring at her with passionate eyes and off-pace breathing.

"There are many other schools in Sokovia, and I'll follow you anywhere." You declare, and Wanda lets out an exclamation.

"Dorogoya, your life is here..."

"You are my life." You interrupt seriously, staring her in the eye. "I was on autopilot for five years while I was away from you. I was a ghost, and until I came back here, it felt like I died with my father. Wanda, you make me feel alive. You make me happy. I made you a promise, I won't leave you alone again."

Tears stream down her face, and she shakes her head. "I can't ask you to drop everything and move to another country with me."

"Don't then." You retort with a tearful laugh. "I've just decided I'm going to drop out of high school and go backpacking in Europe, very common for young heirs." You joke, and she giggles emotionally, and you kiss her again, and again, until Wanda hugs you, hiding her face in your neck.

"I love you." She whispers against your skin. You hug her tighter.

"I love you too, baby."

You would have stayed in the sand, but the people at the campfire started singing a romantic song obviously directed at you two, and you and Wanda parted with embarrassed laughter before exchanging glances to join the others.

–//–

Wanda decided to stay until you graduate. You were a little unsure about her feeling pressured to do so, but she assured you that it was no problem, especially since you would be going to Sokovia with her.

In the meantime, you met her aunt and uncle Oleg and Iryna Maximoff via skype and were impressed by the physical resemblance Iryna had to Wanda's mother Natalya.

"They liked you." Wanda commented from the sink, a few minutes after you guys turned off the laptop and went to get something to eat. She was washing a pan while you were chopping vegetables.

The house was empty; Wanda agreed to go back to her old room while she waited for your graduation. Charles and Erik were no longer living together, not after the professor discovered that Lorna existed. And since Erik spent most of his time at the company, Wanda's house was almost always empty. Which meant that when you weren't at the Institute, you were there.

"Do you really think so? Maybe they were just being polite." You mutter. "Do you know if there's a hostel near their house..."

Wanda cuts off your anxious burbling with a laugh, wiping her hands to move closer to you. "Stop it, they loved you. You're cute and smart, it's impossible not to like you."

"Your opinion is partial because you have the hots for me." You declare, making Wanda burst out laughing. She stops at the counter beside you, her hands resting on the marble as she stares at you.

"Honestly, you're absolutely right." She retorts. "I can barely contain myself with you half-naked in my kitchen..."

Despite blushing softly at the joke, you laugh, rolling your eyes. Holding the vegetable knife, you point down - at Wanda's exposed legs - and comment:

"I can say the same thing, hot stuff." You tease. "Get out of here, you're distracting me."

Wanda bites back a smile and raises an eyebrow. "Am I?"

As soon as you notice her look, you shake your head slightly. "Don't make that face, Maximoff, we need to eat. It's not healthy to go back to bed after all those hours we stayed there..."

But Wanda is already running her hands around your waist. "Oh but I know something I wanna eat."

A deep sigh escapes your lips as Wanda's hands reach up into your T-shirt, and you drop the knife before you lose a finger.

Spinning around in her embrace, you surprise her by kissing her hard, and pushing her until her back hits the refrigerator. Your tongue slipped into her mouth, and Wanda gasped, trying to kiss you just as hard and failing when your hand went down into her panties.

She broke the kiss with a whimper, her hands gripping your sides to keep herself from falling to the ground with the trembling of her knees.

You chuckled breathlessly against her lips, your fingers sliding in with ease. "I told you you had the hots for me. I didn't do anything, and you are all wet." You teased, and though you were absolutely right, Wanda gave you a warning bite on the lip that made you grunt affectedly. Your free hand went to her thigh, squeezing the skin exposed by the lack of pants, and encouraged her to entwine at your waist. Two fingers sank deeper into her tight hole, and Wanda threw her head back, a moan ripping through her throat. You marked her collarbone with firm kisses as you established a rhythm inside her.

You have done this countless times now, and yet it seems to get better with each one.

Wanda closes her eyes tightly as she feels close, but then you remove your fingers all at once and hold her still so she doesn't cum. A loud unsatisfied grunt is her reaction, but you chuckle, moving a hand to grab her face.

"We've been in the room all day, since last night. You are going to be a good girl and have a decent meal and hydrate, and only then you will be allowed to come again, got it?" You demanded looking at her, and Wanda bit her tongue to keep from cursing. At her lack of response, you pressed your knee between her legs and she gasped, twitching. "I can keep stealing them, Wands..."

"F-fuck, no, I got it." She stutters affectedly, discreetly trying to rub against your knee, but you are quicker and move away, ignoring the other's soft protest.

"Turn on the stove for me please, princess." You ordered, returning to cooking as if Wanda wasn't throbbing in between her legs.

She realized that the attitude sent another hot wave through her body, and grudgingly obeyed you. Mentally cursing that you were so unfairly irresistible and that she was completely in love with you and every one of your infuriating antics.

–//–

"Sorry for taking so long, baby, they brought the calculus test forward. I'll bring some food."

You adjusted your backpack on your shoulder, holding it tighter to move through the crowd of students leaving with the ringing of the signal toward the classrooms.

Wanda answered your message ten minutes later.

"I have a surprise for when you arrive." She wrote, triggering your curiosity ultimately. Before you could type to her that you couldn't wait, someone called your name.

"Miss Rogers?" It was Agatha Harkness, from the doorway of her room you had just passed. She wore a very elegant purple suit, and the half-stern expression made you swallow dryly. But her gaze softened afterwards. "I mean, Miss Stark. Forgive me."

You smiled awkwardly. "It's okay. What is it?"

"Can we talk? For a moment."

You hesitated, glancing at the clock in the hallway. "I have a calculus test now, Miss Harkness..."

"It will only take a minute." She says, closing the door to approach you. She holds two folders against her chest, and from one of them, she takes out a paper that she extends to you. "I know we all just want to forget about that whole mess, but some things stay with us. Anger is one of them." She tells you, and you frown, accepting the paper. It is a group therapy pamphlet, with a drawing of an angry puppet. You swallow dryly again, for the caption of anger management. Agatha looks at you intently. "It's important to find healthy ways to deal with things."

You sigh lightly, putting the pamphlet away in your jacket pocket. "Thank you, Miss Harkness."

"And dear?" She calls out before you can leave. "Miss Maximoff has been through a lot. I know we didn't end very well, but psychological counseling for her would be of great use. She should-"

"What happened with you two, anyway?" You cut her off half-suspiciously. "She never mentioned it."

Agatha sighs. "Counseling is confidential between me and patients, except in cases where safety is compromised. And Wanda, well, she was putting herself in danger with her rebellious behavior. It was my professional obligation to warn a guardian, and that didn't sit well with her."

"So you snitched on her? Messed up, Agatha. She trusted you."

The woman clears her throat uncomfortably. "Miss Stark, the situation is more complicated..."

The signal rings again, and you offer her a short smile. "Thank you for the flyer and the suggestion. I'll think about it, really. Bye." You leave to avoid missing your exam.

You think you did well in the exam, and buy Mexican food - Wanda's favorite - before taking the bus to her house.

It's empty, as usual, and now you have the key too. You go in, calling out to her, and leave the food in the kitchen before going upstairs to the room where you heard her.

Wanda asks you to close your eyes before the last step of the stairs.

You laugh but obey. "If I fall down the stairs, I will sue you." You joke with one hand covering your eyes and the other groping the wall to keep from falling.

She giggles and reaches up to guide you into her room by the wrist. She sits you down on the bed, and places her hands on your shoulders, smoothing your shirt gently.

"I did something." She sighs. You chuckle confusedly.

"Okay?"

"And you will tell me if you don't like it, or it looks ugly, right?"

"I will."

She sighs again, and you hear her take a step back.

"You can open your eyes."

You slowly take your hand away to make her laugh, but you get no more than a nervous laugh. Worried, you open your eyes, and soon, a loud exclamation escapes your lips.

"WHAT? YOUR HAIR!"

"I KNOW!" Wanda retorts in the same tone, and you are getting up excited and surprised.

"You're a redhead! Wanda?"

"I know." She retorts with a nervous laugh, and you run your hand through her slightly damp hair, impressed. The girl covers her face with her hands. "I was left unsupervised. When I realized, I had already done it."

You laugh, twirling one end around on your fingers. "You look beautiful, my love."

She raises her eyes to you. "Really?" She asks unsurely, and you smile warmly, holding her by the waist and managing to make her laugh as you lift her in the air.

"Absolutely gorgeous, Maximoff," you assure her, smiling into the kiss she initiates next.

The food will eventually get cold because Wanda was missing you as much as you were missing her.

–//–

Red hair cascades down in front of you. Wanda turns her head, and emerald eyes shining mischievously stared at you.

"Need any help there? Maybe a CPR?" She teased, and you gave a breathless chuckle, taking another careful step toward her. She giggles softly when you took a deep breath and almost stumbled, for the tenth time. "To think I'm the former smoker in this relationship..."

"Shut up." You retorted good-naturedly, finally crossing that stretch of half-stable ground, and climbing up the small column of rocks where Wanda was standing. "Stop bragging, you're all flushed and breathless too."

She raises her eyebrow. "That's totally turning you on, huh?"

You roll your eyes, your cheeks flush. "You're the worst, Maximoff. Come on, before we miss it."

One last trail before traveling to Sokovia the next weekend, and the suggestion was not yours but Wanda's. You walked a little further and the lighthouse was already visible among the trees. One of your hands went to your pants pocket, the crumpled paper of the successful results of the end-of-the-year exams rubbed against your fingers. But you pulled out a coin.

You were playing with it between your fingers when you and Wanda arrived at the edge of the lighthouse.

"We did it, baby!" She celebrates beside you, throwing her shoulders against yours. You chuckle lightly, putting the coin away in your pocket and staring at the sun almost setting completely.

"We narrowly missed it, though." You tease, and Wanda rolls her eyes in amusement.

"But we made it, that's what matters." She says, sliding a hand through yours. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

The sun kisses the sea in front of you, and you smile, nodding in agreement. You look at her, and Wanda outshines any landscape. " Yeah."

She looks at you and moves closer to kiss you softly before warning against your lips. "I can't take another step." She confesses, making you laugh hard, throwing your head back. Wanda laughs too, resting more weight on you. "Hey, don't laugh! I can't feel my feet!

"I told you not to come in all-stars, Maximoff!"

"But they're so pretty..."

You chuckle, shaking your head in disbelief before gently pushing her away by the waist. "Get on my back, I'll carry you to the club and put some ice on those feet, cinderella."

Wanda celebrates excitedly, obeying bluntly. "You're a real gentleman, honey." She teases, and you move your hands to her thighs around her so she doesn't slip, laughing a little at the joke.

She hugs you a little tighter around the neck, and the sunset gradually fades into the night behind you.

Two figures, on top of the lighthouse, are unnoticed. Both are wearing dark uniforms, with orange details on their arms.

"All clear on this one, Sergeant." Announces the one on the right, looking down. Without a response, the guard turns their face to their partner. "Sergeant!"

They startle and jump, and the little blue butterfly that had landed on the railing flies away from their hands. The guard grunts in irritation. "Come on!"

The other one rolls their eyes and ignores their colleague's protest. "I said this universe is clear, sergeant. Cross it off the list, and let's get on our way. I want to finish all the realities in section A before the first recess."

"Yes, captain." Grumbles the other half begrudgingly, and from their pocket take out a small electronic device, where they cross out from a chart a name number. "Are you sure there's nothing strange about this one? I didn't see some variants around-"

"Without magic, they wouldn't have stayed. None of them, really. And the signal is weak, we came here more out of precaution than anything. Now come on, the TVA is having enough trouble with two gods to lose sight of another one."

The guard sighs but does not retort. They put away the electronic device and follows their colleague into the orange portal that appeared next to them.

--//--

Deleted Scenes

#wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x reader #Mystery Club

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hello-nichya-here · 5 months

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hey you expressed support for Palestine before, i was wondering what ur thoughts were on a volunteer for AO3 being warned and canned for supporting palestine? i don't see a lot of big fanfiction writers on ao3 talking abt this, and you aren't obligated to, but i feel like you would have a unique perspective (in a good way)

Okay, I've tried looking into it but everytime I just get linked back to the same post that talks about what alledgedly happened, but no links or screenshots to the actual thing, so if anyone can help me out with that so I can check how true it is, I'd appreciate it a lot.

Now, if it turns to be true... man, what a fucking disappointment. Not just because, obviously, supporting literal genocide is attrocious, but also because for years ao3 has been the anti-censorship website, so it suddenly deciding "Actually, we ARE going to ban you if you say stuff we don't like/agree with" is a terrible sign.

Again, if this is true, hit them (and especially OTW, who own them) where it hurts: no donations, and make sure to send emails contacting them to demand explanation/make it clear that the reason for lack of donations is them supporting genocide going back on their word and censoring people despite their main thing being "We're a goddamn archieve". It's an organisation that functions through volunteer work after all. After all the years of always surpassing their goal and getting extra donations all the time, that should scare them enough to bitchslap some sense into them.

As for the possibility of changing to a different site, I'm sorry to be the one to tell you guys that, but nobody who got used to ao3 is changing to fucking Wattpad and the likes because these sites are unusable, and Fanfic.Net is basically dead and glitching all the time AND a large portion of ao3's userbase jumped ship from Fanfic.Net and they're not coming back. There's a reason ao3 grew so fast it's because it was literally the only site that wasn't broken, unusable or heavily censored - and again, even if this fuckery is true and that last part seems to be at risk of going out the window, that still makes it the only fic site that is in any way functional.

Even if a perfect alternative were to magically appear today, it'd still take time for people to try it out, get used to it, like it, post stuff both there AND ao3 on the regular to build a community, and then finally move to the new alternative exclusively. It won't be an overnight thing.

As for the inevitable "but how can you continue using ao3 knowing what it supports" I'm gonna get even if this turns out to be a lie or misunderstanding: there's a big difference between a major company or super relevant government supporting something attrocious and a fanfic site supporting something attrocious.

Ao3/OTW doesn't have the money to buy Israel more guns and bombs. It isn't funding illegal mining in Congo that is killing toddlers like Tesla is, or making a bunch of chinese children work as slaves like Apple, and it is OBVIOUSLY not the same as Biden not only continuing to fund Israel's war effort but also randomly attacking Iraq and Iran just because americans always look for any excuse to bomb the middle east.

Ao3/OTW supporting Israel would be the popular kid in school or the neighbour everyone likes supporting Israel - disappointing, and at worst makes you worry about them influencing some morons to go "Well, BOTH sides have done bad things" or "It's just different opinions", but it won't actually kill anyone.

For now, I'm still on ao3, and on Belletristica despite their search function sucking, and I'm one of the five people that is still on Fanfic.net and will likely stay there until the site implodes for good. Worst comes to worst, you guys just have to google "Zucest" over and over until you inevitably find me somewhere.

#asks #free palestine #ao3 #ao3 fuckery

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strawberryfairi · 1 month

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“I loved you then…back when I knew you”

Synopsis: 💎 When your old high school best friend, and admittedly, first love randomly shows up at your door one morning after a bit over ten years apart, your memories of him that you once locked away comes flooding back. Are you open to hearing him out after all this time? (In other words…will you take your man back or nah?)

♕Pairings: Kazutora X Black Fem Reader 🤎 (ANYONE CAN READ)🛑Content: 18+ Eventual smut, Some grief, Some angst ~Crossposted On: Wattpad & Ao3

w.c. 3.6k💠 Released April 14, 2024

NOTE🧚🏾‍♀️: Things are getting spicy!!! Love this fr

C.W.: Semi-naked, nipple play, mostly foreplay action

Previous | Next Chapter: Pending…. Chapters Masterlist

CHAPTER 12; GOOD ENOUGH

Kazutora was bewildered. The question of how did he get here rang in his mind for a while as he laid naked next to you in the soft, plush bed. Well, he knew how he got here, it's just...the fact that he actually managed to get this far, initiating it and pulling it off by himself, he was just...bewildered. If he were being completely honest with himself, he never imagined he'd ever get this far with you just after the first date. Originally all he was hoping for was a simple kiss, but he ended up scoring way more points than he anticipated. Maybe he really should give himself more credit?

Flashback Maybe two hours ago? Tora really doesn't know...

You could tell there was something wrong with him, with the way he's been so quiet and still held on to such a disappointed expression since the ride back to your apartment. The two of you stood out front of your door, a heavy silence hovering over the both of you.

"K, what's goin' on?" You ask softly, brows slightly furrowed in concern. He sighs, not really meeting your gaze.

"I just..wanted today to be perfect-good enough for you, but it ended up being the worst date you've probably ever been on." His tone sounds so defeated and sad, it really pulled on your heart strings.

"No, that's not true! I loved it! All I wanted was to just spend time with you, there's no need for anything to be perfect. Honestly, all the effort you put in to plan this entire day out for me is as perfect as it gets." You smile warmly.

The really was nothing wrong with the how the day went overall, he just seems to be overthinking. It was truly a sweet and well thought-out date. A few hours train ride to walk around this pretty botanical garden you've never been to, topped off with a picnic at the beach just twenty minutes away from the garden. It was all great...though he forgot to factor in just one thing. The weather. It rained as soon as the afternoon hit, and well, as soon as you both left from the inside part of the garden.

His eyes go wide in complete shock. "Really?"

"Yes, I'm dead serious. It's not often guys put this much genuine thought and creativity into a date; especially not the first one." You assure.

"Well then...would you wanna do another one? Maybe not as hectic next time?" Kazutora asks with a little nervous chuckle.

"Absolutely." You nod, leaning up to give him a kiss on his cheek. "Would you wanna come inside for a while, I mean, since it's still raining pretty bad?" You suggest a bit uncharacteristically shyly, motioning towards the front door of your apartment.

"I-..are you sure? I wouldn't wanna be a bother-

"No, I want you to stay with me."

Something about the way you said that, with your eyes all sparkling up at him like a treasure chest full of shimmering diamonds, made him fold instantly. His thoughts echoed in his mind for a moment, repeating the same phrase.

She wants me to stay with her...

All he could do was just nod as he let you lead him inside your apartment. It was such a different experience from last weekend, when his heart was pounding in fear of how you'd respond to seeing him after such a long time away from you. Now his heart was racing for another reason, one that honestly excited him to the bone.

It's already pretty late, and now the two of you were here alone once again at your place. He hoped and prayed on the inside that he'd be able to build up the guts to finally make a move and kiss you, the same way you smoothly transitioned into that heated make out session with him the last time he was here. Admittedly, you'd somehow became much bolder than him over the years. He remembers way back when the smallest little things would have you blushing and looking off to the side in embarrassment. Ah, how the tables have surely turned.

Kazutora's just standing there in the center of your living room watching as you take off your coat, exposing that pretty floral dress he's been staring at nearly all day.

"You alright?" You snap him out of his daze with your innocent question.

"Y-yeah, sorry." He stammers, shrugging off his own coat and going to hang it up next to you by the little closest he didn't realize was even there until this moment.

"Let's hang out on the couch." You suggest with a lazy shrug, walking over to the cream colored couch, taking off your heels and leaving them by the side of it. Kazutora trails after you, trying yet failing miserably at calming his rapidly beating heart. When he sits down, his heart nearly stops as he looks down at you with wide eyes. You were leaning in so close, reaching a hand over near his waist. Were you already making a move?! He barely sat down for even a second!

But no, no you were not making a move. You were merely reaching for the remote that happened to be on the right of him.

You could have just asked him to grab it...Were you trynna be slick?

If so it was absolutely working to get him flustered like a little school girl. He watches from the corner of his eye as you sigh deeply, waiting for the TV to boot up so you could turn on Netflix.

Every time he's close to you it's like he finds something new to be mesmerized by. Your pretty brown eyes and long curly lashes, the way your hair is always just so big with those cute little coily curls, the way you smile- even how you're sitting so comfortably next to him in that little dress. The warm lights of the living room bounce off of your soft, smooth looking skin-gosh! It's just too much for him all at once. You're too much for him.

"I say we watch something sci-fi like. Whatever Netflix suggests I'll just turn on at random."

Kazutora just nods, not really caring about whatever movie you decide to turn on. His mind was too busy being occupied by you. 💎

Minutes turned into a half an hour turned into a full hour, and still no moves were made. In all this time his heart continues racing, his mind rapidly surging through his pitifully vacant inventory of ideas of how he could smoothly initiate a kiss.

What should he do? Should he hold your hand? Nah nah, that seems so cheesy, and he's not really sure how that would turn into a kiss.

Damn his lack of experience...

There was a sense of urgency that settled into him, time doing nothing but breezing by as the night continues on. At some point he'd have to leave, and he refused to end the night without a kiss.

His eyes shift over towards you for the millionth time. You look so relaxed compared to him, sitting there next to him with your eyes fixed on the screen, fully invested in whatever was going on in the movie. Kazutora frowns, and the insecurity he's been feeling all day seeps its way back to the forefront of his mind.

I don't even deserve her...

The thought is so quiet yet it sets off the loudest alarms in his mind. You're so beautiful, and smart, and sweet. Basically everything he's not. All these years you've thought of him, and you cared about him even after the way he treated you that night he broke off your friendship. You even went and blessed him with a kiss the very same day he came back to explain himself to you!

On top of that, Kazutora's done some treacherous things-everyone knows that-but you, you're like an angel compared to him. You don't ruin every good thing you get your hands on like he does. Who's to say he won't turn around and hurt you all over again?

Then there's his complete and utter lack of romantic experience. Someone like you deserves a guy that can do all those romantic things for you well, satisfying you, and always being there for you. You should have-

"You ok? Why d'you look so sad?"

The sound of your pretty voice and little hand resting on his breaks his train of depressing thoughts.

"No, no I-..I'm fine." He shrugs nonchalantly.

"You lyin' to me?" You furrow your brows, voice sounding a bit shocked. Kazutora's heart sinks. You're way too observant.

"I'm sorry. It's really nothing." He asures, trying to put on his best pleasant tone. You look at him with a raised brow, clearly not buying it.

"You know, if you're gonna get into the whole lying gig, at least try not to wear your emotions all over your face." You advise softly, looking him right in the eyes. "You're obviously upset, so what's wrong?" You add, grabbing the remote and turning the TV volume down a little.

Kazutora bites his tongue. Sometimes your ability to read people comes along at the worst times. "I just..." He trails off, not wanting to lie but also feeling embarrassed about what was on his mind. "'S it about me? Did I do something?" You ask, eyes glossy with concern.

"No!" He responds faster than he intended. "No, you're...perfect." He sighs.

"It's really about me. Sometimes I...feel like I don't deserve to be around you." He admits somberly, not even bothering to look up at you. "What do you mean?! You can be around me! It's been so long!" You furrow your brows, placing your hand on his arm. "I know but, I mean, look at me. I'm nothing like you, you're so-

"So happy that you're in my life again. I understand after what went down between us years ago that you probably feel guilty still, but I already told you I forgave you for that. I like being around you; I love it even. All day I was just happy to do things with you like back then."

Kazutora's heart clenched tightly in his chest. Your words ring out in his mind like pretty wedding bells. For a while he was completely speechless.

She loves being around me...

He figured after such an endearing little speech like that, and with the way his heart felt so light and warm, this had to be his chance. Without another thought, Kazutora hesitantly leans in, placing his lips onto yours in a gentle kiss,..and you respond so fast. Your hand on his arm slides upwards until it rests on his shoulder, pulling him in a bit closer.

A heavy sense of triumph rests on Kazutora's shoulders, like a prince being crowned king, adorned with an opulent, long red and gold cape. Finally he made a move, and now he wants more. Your lips, your touch, your voice-just everything. Damn, you have so much power over him. You make him feel so weak yet so strong all at once, it's overwhelming.

Boldly, Kazutora takes the kiss a step further, placing his hands on your waist as his tongue eases its way passed the gateway of your lips. His cheeks turn deep pink as a little, airy moan from you vibrates against his lips. His thumbs gently caress your sides over the fabric of your pretty floral dress, the bottom now scrunched around your knees. You start to come closer, allowing Kazutora's hands to guide you further onto his lap. Using your hand on his shoulder to keep yourself stable, the other reaches for the hem of your dainty dress, hiking it up to your thighs as you sit down, your legs straddling either side of him.

Slowly you pull away, both of you breathing heavily as you look him in the eyes. "Still think you don't deserve me?" You ask in amusement. Your soft voice sounds like a song to him. "It's hard to think at all when you're on top of me like this." He admits with a bashful chuckle. Your light laughter joins in with his, making his cheeks darken even further.

"Do you like me on top of you like this?" You ask him playfully, enjoying the adorable look on his face. "Yeah." He says with a slight strained rasp. It was a miracle his voice didn't crack. His short lived moment of boldness was quickly disappearing on him. "I like it too. A lot." You whisper, sending an electric shock wave all throughout his body. The two of you lean in at nearly the same time, lips meeting each other half way for another passionate kiss.

This time your hands can't help but start to wander, slowly trailing downwards from his shoulders to his chest. A light giggle comes from you, hearing him let out a little gasp and tighten his grip around your waist. With a small grin you pull away from his rosy lips, plastering sweet kisses along his chiseled jawline then down to his neck, right on top of his tiger tattoo.

"I've always wanted to do this." You hum, the warmth of your breath tickling his neck. Kazutora feels himself visibly shudder, his heart beating so vehemently he was sure it was trying to force its way out of his chest. He didn't know kisses on his neck would feel so good. Instantly his breathing becomes heavier- breathier, subconsciously turning his head to give you more access. You react to him so quickly, spurred on by the low, sensual sounds he was making- alternating between kissing and sucking gently.

Kazutora feels hot all over, so damn hot, and what you're doing to him is even hotter. His eyes are closed, brows furrowed as he tries with everything in him to keep his moans more on the quiet side. He feels your soft moan and sigh against his skin as you plant another wet kiss on his tattoo, and then, your lips drag upwards until you reach his ear and whisper so seductively "I want you."

He nearly winces at the way his heart aggressively skips a beat in his chest. There's no way he heard you right. You want him? For real?!

"M-me?" He stammers dumbly, embarrassing himself.

"Mhm." You giggle lightly, pulling back so you could look at him. His light brown eyes are wide open, lips parted in shock.

"You mean like...?" He asks hesitantly. He had a pretty good feeling what you meant, it's just he couldn't believe it was true.

"You know what I mean." You answer softly, fiddling around with the hem of his shirt. Kazutora's gaze shifts down at your fingers messing with his top then back up to your pretty eyes.

"Do you want me?"

Your words unlock something deep inside him. For years he's never had anything close to a moment like this with you; or any girl for that matter. He's never had the chance to know what it feels like to be touched by someone else, only ever accustomed to the pleasures he'd give to himself. He realizes there's a whole world he's never had a chance to explore, of lust and sensuality and desire with another person- the world that you were more than willing to show him, right here-right now. The feelings he'd been so nervous and self-conscious to show had risen to the surface. He wants you bad, so bad he doesn't even bother to respond with words.

Without even a second of hesitation, Kazutora's hand slips behind your neck, locking you in place as he pulls you into a kiss that sets your whole body ablaze. This was different from before, he was less timid this time, less reluctant. It didn't take words to understand that his response was clearly and undoubtedly yes. He puts his all behind this kiss, leaving behind any lingering shreds of apprehensiveness.

Both of you moved with a particular desperation, like an itch you just couldn't reach. Your movements are impulsive, hands swiftly making their way underneath his cotton fabric shirt, and roaming around his muscular torso wherever your fingertips pleased. Kazutora follows your lead, his hands trailing down your back and resting on your plush thighs, barely covered by your lifted dress. Your skin is so smooth, so soft against his calloused hands. In perfect harmony you moan together, the mellow hums reverberating against each others lips.

You were becoming impatient, you needed more. Swiftly you take his hands from your thighs, dragging them over your body as you pull away from the kiss. He locks eyes with you, watching intently like a dedicated student as you bring his hands to the straps of your dress, eyes going wide in a conjunction of nervous excitement. Your heart is racing, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as the shyness kicks in.

He notices you hesitate, your gaze shifting downwards at the little flower designs on your dress, hands still resting atop his. It seems at the same time the awareness that there'd truly be no going back from this point hovered between the two of you. You both realize that, this entire time, you two were never really friends. It was always something more, but back then the both of you were too shy-too innocent to act on it. And now, a bit more than a decade later, there's nothing to hold either of you back; not anymore.

The sudden sensation of his fingers lightly dragging the left spaghetti strap of your dress off of your shoulder makes your heart jump. You raise your head, looking up into his eyes shyly. He continues, taking your other strap and shifting it off your right shoulder, looking up at you with his eyes ablaze with desire. Though his movements are slow, he seems braver than you in this moment. His pointer finger dips between the valley of your breasts, pulling down on the heart shaped neckline of your dress, exposing the upper half of you.

Kazutora sucks in a breath, his face piping hot as he takes in the sight of you. It was nearly killing him looking at you like this, sitting on top of him, half naked and shy. You're too damn cute, and beautiful, and sexy all at the same time. He wonders for a moment how that's even possible.

"Your staring is making me nervous..." You admit softly, turning your head to the side as you cross your arms over your exposed chest. "Sorry. I-I just-...you look beautiful." He fumbles for the right words, taking your arms and removing them from your torso. His mind was racing with all kinds of thoughts that he can barely keep up with, he could hardly manage to speak. He wanted to grab your pretty breasts, squeeze them, lick them- suck on those pretty, pebbled nipples.

So he does just that. Shakily his hands cup your breasts, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. Damn, they're even softer than he imagined. Instinctually his thumbs raise to your nipples, lightly brushing over them and watching attentively for your reaction. An airy moan like a soft whisper reaches his ears, echoing through his mind like a song on repeat. He needs to hear it again.

He runs his thumbs back and forth against your nipples, basking in the way your brows slightly crease together, and the way your chest rises and falls with every labored breath you take. You seem sensitive here, every little movement gives him the prettiest reactions. He takes things a bit further, leaning forward and giving your left nipple a gentle kitten lick. That makes you gasp, and moan even louder than before, and he loves it. He licks another time, and once more, swirls his tongue around your bud like a lollipop, then takes your soft nipple between his lips. At this moment Kazutora swears he could die like this, it's just so perfect.

No, you're so perfect.

The way your hands run through his long hair, resting there and slightly pulling him closer-ughh, it's turning him on such an indecent amount. His free hand snakes across your waist, shifting you towards him as much as possible. Then your hips move on their own, steadily grinding into his ever growing erection. He sucks in a breath, hands quickly grabbing your hips in a tight grasp as he sets his attention on your other breast. Unconsciously, your hips are guided back and forth by his hands, the friction utterly dizzying.

Kazutora trails his tongue hungrily from the valley of your breasts up to your neck, scattering light kisses and gently sucking all along the way. Softly you pull away from him, tugging on his shirt to signal you want it off. He obliges, leaning up from the couch so you could lift his shirt over his head. Seconds after you throw his shirt to the side your lips are crashing together in a needy kiss. The feeling of your bare chest against his has him damn near seeing stars. And then, you pull away, whispering breathlessly into his ear "Wanna go to my room?"

A/N🧚🏾‍♀️: Stoooop Ik y'all are mad at me, the cliffhanger is HEINOUS😭 But don't worry I'm cooking up the next chapter right neeooooow👩🏾‍🍳

#strawberryfairi🧚🏾‍♀️#back when i knew you #kazutora x black fem reader #fem reader #kazutora x reader smut #kazutora x fem reader smut #kazutora hanemiya #tokyo rev #black female writer #let me cook y'all #cliffhanger

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olderthannetfic · 1 year

Note

I'm not sure if anyone has said this before, but I always thought the reason why m/m dominates in fandom (generally speaking) is because a lot of fandom writers are women who grew up suffering under the patriarchy, and they want to see romances where they can project themselves onto either lead character without having to experience misogynistic attitudes, negative female stereotypes, and subconscious biases directed at either character.

I know that's why *I* personally started reading m/m, and over the years I've wondered if this is the reason why m/m has surged in popuarity with cis and het women.

Certainly, I read m/f and f/f too, but it just doesn't feel the same. Most writers grow up shaped by societies that favor men, and many stories will feature societies that favor men, and having this be a world-building *factor* is almost inescapable. Every female character I read is either consciously or subconsciously fighting against/fulfilling society's expectations of her, and it's exhausting after awhile because it hits too close to home.

Of course, there's great value in showing women tackling these systemic prejudices. We absolutely need these stories too. But when it comes to romance, I just want to be swept away to a place where I don't have to think about any of that for awhile, and one of the easiest ways to do that is to project myself onto a male character, who is romancing another male character.

Because while these characters might face prejudice of a different sort, any kind of homophobia aimed at them usually targets both simultaneously, making it a shared burden. Whereas in m/f, misogyny will single out the woman. (And f/f will sometimes have the characters face homophobia + misogyny, a depressing double whammy.) But M/m has a way of equalizing the two parties in a way that frees them up to deal with romantic obstacles unrelated to patriarchal bullshit, and personally I find that extremely comforting and inspiring to read. Yes, it's wish-fulfillment. But isn't that why we read romance in the first place?

M/M does not dominate in fandom.

It dominates on AO3, a site set up by m/m shippers to protect m/m fic from being deleted.

There's plenty else we can discuss here, but it's pointless to even start if people don't have the basic starting knowledge that FFN and Wattpad are full of het.

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oceangirl24 · 3 months

Text

Flashbacks: Glory Days 1

It was incredibly frustrating to hit more than one perfect shot yet having each one end up nowhere near the hole. He took that frustration out on the ball with a wonky, thoughtless whack that sent it straight through the pipe and into the hole.

Shawn stared at the course questioning his life choices before Jon pulled him on to the next hole.

The Windmill, which was his best hole on the Jersey Shore, was abysmal in Lancaster. He could not get the shot he wanted, which was the windmill itself. Jon got aggravated and told him to just play around. Shawn had not "played around" since he was eleven. He wasn't about to start again at fifteen.

However, the course insisted that he did.

The Windmill mocked him as it lazily turned in the breeze. He was way over par and holding up play for everyone else. Jon, apologizing to the families behind them for his son's silent temper tantrum, confiscated Shawn's putter and all but carried him to the next hole.

As Jon and Audrey took their turns, Shawn watched the family behind them.

The seven-year-old got a hole in one.

"She cheated!" he squawked indignantly, shoving his putter in the girl's direction. "Look! She picked the ball up and set it right in front of the windmill. That's illegal."

Distractedly, Jon looked away from Audrey who was lining up her shot. "She's a little kid, Shawn."

"So?" He stared in horror at the same hole. "Ah! What's that!?"

The youngest child in the family, five at the most, kept hitting his ball before it came to a stop, counting one every time the putter touched the ball. He made the hole with "one" shot.

Shawn was infuriated by the unfairness of it all.

"Lemme ask you somethin'," Jon said, amused by Shawn's dramatics. He put his hands on top of the putter's shaft and leaned on it.

"What?" he snapped, still glaring at the little kids.

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen,' he snapped sullenly. He caught Jon's look and explained, "Mr. Matthews wouldn't let Cory and me do stuff like that when we were little kids. He made us play like adults."

"So?"

"So why don't they have to play like adults?"

Jon gave the little kids a puzzled look then nudged Shawn to take his turn on the current hole. "I don't know, they aren't my kids."

"I'm your kid," he said, stubbornly refusing to move on. "Do I have to play like an adult?"

"Are you kiddin' me?"

"Dead serious, man." Shawn glared at the windmill.

"You really wanna do-over on the windmill, don't you?"

"That kid got one!" He shrugged his shoulders trying to line up his shot, but he couldn't focus. "That stupid thing killed my score."

"Yeah" Jon sighed, rubbing his thumb across his forehead. "And Audrey is killin' us both. It really doesn't matter anymore."

Read the Rest:

AO3 FFN Wattpad

#boy meets world #shawn hunter #jonathan turner #boy meets world fanfiction #boy meets world fic #bmw #boymeetsworld #found family

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bardicbeetle · 2 months

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hey. Hey. You got any analysis of the Lost Boys or thoughts on the movie to share? who's your favorite character in it and why??

@abalonetea

Analysis on the movie I've been many levels of obsessed with since age 14 you ask?

...this is going to end up undercut for length I can already feel it.

The Lost Boys is my comfort movie, my I-feel-like-shit-nothing-is-fixing-it movie, my I-can't-write-please-help movie and my go-to for when I am inflicting media upon a new friend. I know it backwards forwards, upside down and inside out, I own the out of print novelization written by Craig Shaw Gardener, I posted the original prequel script to fanfiction.net in the early 2010s because I found it buried in a forum post and wanted it to be easier to find, I have listened to every version of cry little sister that G Tom Mac has ever put out in addition to the entire stage musical he produced. The fic I wrote for it in 2011 is still on Wattpad and to this day for some fuck ass reason gets 1000s of hits per year. I have another fic for it on ao3 that still takes up brainspace for me on a minimum weekly basis.

Honestly do not know who I am as a writer if not for this film.

It is such a huge part of who I am as both a fan of media and a vampire writer and as a horror enjoyer in general.

And it is undeniably, baked into its bones, queer as fuck.

Not just from the overt point of here is a film in the 1980s about men sharing blood, directed by an openly gay man, hands us platonic and familial and romantic interactions between male characters, who are allowed to hold one another, allowed to express emotion, allowed to exist freely and without shame I am--so very abnormal about this movie.

I'll be the first to admit it's not perfect by any means, it very much exists a time capsule of its era, but also, to momentarily put the bar on the floor, it isn't slur laden and full of take-backs for any of the emotional vulnerability like other things around then were (see: Once Bitten, which while unarguably very much more on the comedy side of horror-comedy, i'm going to put into the same category by virtue of Camp Vampire Movies of the 80s).

It hands us one of my favorite mothers of all time. Lucy Emerson is a treasure, she spends the whole movie trying her goddamn best to remember that she is stronger than anyone gives her credit for. That she chose to divorce an abusive man, pick up her two sons, and leave without more than signing the papers and getting out. She doesn't care if they're poor, she doesn't care if she could have gotten something from her ex-husband, she wants her boys safe and there is a very large implication that sticking around to do the whole song and dance would have ended badly. Lucy lives for her sons, she wants so badly to make the world easier for them than it was for her, she wants to be part of their lives and part of their interests even if she does not understand them, and I maintain that Had Max Actually Succeeded, it would not have been long before the Lost Boys themselves were Lucy's as much as her own two sons, and that would not have ended well for Max. Protecting mother, lioness, made to be underestimated so you are always caught off guard.

Edgar and Alan Frog are near and dear to my heart, these idiot vampire hunter children were just so very much what my brother and I were in terms of Making Up Games To Play--ignoring the fact that for these two it's real, not that it ever had been before the Emerson family rolled into town and Sam's brother got mixed into the Lost Boys group. Edgar wanting to be in charge of things and wanting to protect the people he cares about and the town he is too stubborn to admit he loves despite being what, 12? 14? Alan being quieter but just as absolutely ready to go "yeah we are totally experts at this" as his twin, the fact that neither of them have any idea what they are getting into. Dipping barely into the sequels territory (which...they aren't good. by any definition. but Edgar and Alan are the best part of them both) we get Edgar dealing not only with his perceived loss of Alan to half-vampirism, but his whole loss of Sam after having to kill him and I just.

Ugh.

NOW, dipping into the main event there is Michael, who spends this whole movie just trying to figure out where the hell he's supposed to belong at this point. He doesn't see any point in starting a new high school in his senior year, he doesn't want to upset his mother by just absolutely dropping off the planet, he cares deeply about his family and wants to help however he can because they are struggling for money. So what does this seventeen year old kid do? He starts picking trash up off the beach for eight hours a day. He gives that money to his mother under the guise of it being "leftover from christmas" because he doesn't want her to worry about him working. He feels so fucking lonely without the friends he left behind in Phoenix and he feels like he's too old to supplant himself into a new friend group in Santa Carla before everyone goes their separate ways after high school anyways.

Enter Star and the Lost Boys.

Yes, Michael is taken in by Star because she's beautiful and mysterious and he's a teenage boy seeing nipples through a tank top, but beyond that he sees in her, in David and the others, how self sure they all are of the decisions they've made. This group is all within his age, they're all living in a goddamn sunken hotel half claimed by the ocean, they have motorcycles like him, they smoke weed and eat chinese food and Marko keeps pigeons and Dwayne can skateboard and Paul is a music nerd and what the fuck how do they manage to seem like they have their lives more together as a group of teenage runaways than he does?

He's enamored with it, obsessed with it, the movie speeds up a timeline of something that does in fact happen over the course of a couple weeks, of him hanging out with them, slowly experiencing more and more symptoms of vampirism from the blood he drank the first night, unable to stop coming back, unable to really figure out what it is they have figured out that he doesn't, and hoping that maybe if he stays with them he will eventually feel the same confidence in his own existence that they do.

But couple that with the horrifying reality that he is becoming a monster. His younger brother is terrified of him, the family dog bites him, the horses won't go near him, he pulls a mouse out of a trap freshly dead and squeezes it like a spent juice box into his mouth, he is falling apart at the seams by the time David decides it's time to finish things. And that's what David wants, he wants Michael in a position where he is no longer lucid enough to resist once there's blood in the air.

And it almost fucking works.

I stand by my belief that the entire movie hinges on the beach party where the Lost Boys kill a whole bunch of Surf Nazis. The whole thing, the outcome of the final fight, the failure of Max's plan, all of it hangs on that one night, and whether or not Michael can actually manage not to give into the bloodlust. He does manage, obviously, he leans into the shock and fear and near throws himself out of that tree because he knows that if he doesn't, he will join the blood bath happening not ten feet away. He is starving and exhausted and everything in him is screaming that if he just gave in, it would all feel so much better.

But he doesn't.

He lays in the sand until he cannot hear any heartbeats left.

Lays there clawing his hands into the ground like if he can hold himself still enough then maybe this will stop being real.

Three of the four boys don't pay much mind to this, Dwayne Paul and Marko have slipped back into regular antics despite being coated red. Their faces have returned to normal, their eyes no longer brilliant gold rimmed red, they are laughing and shoving and having a good time.

But David is furious. He's quiet about it, he isn't loudly angry, something I think he probably absorbed from Max over the years, he tells Michael what needs to be done if he wants to stay with them, and then he and the other Lost Boys leave him there in the sand, burnt flesh and ashes drifting down to him on the breeze.

The thing about David is that he realized the night on the train bridge that he didn't care about Max's bullshit plan. He didn't care that he was originally going to feed Michael to Star. He is fixated on getting Michael to join them, not just for himself, not just to keep Star around, but also because there's a refusal to give up in this kid that has him excited, a stubbornness that he wants to break. It's the thing that eventually leads to his death.

ANYWAYS.

I think, perhaps, I have yelled enough.

Oh, shit, favorite character.

I think without any doubt it has to be David. Especially after reading the novelization, the comics, the original prequel script, he's just, he is such an interesting character and his motivations are so obvious despite how much he would appear to hold them close to his chest. He's a root character I can trace a lot of the tropes that carry over in my own antagonists to, and some of my protagonists as well.

double anyways, camp vampires from 1987 my beloved.

Thank you Katie <3

#the magician cries #questions concerns and or rotten tomatoes #piles of vampire bs #tlb #the lost boys

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