#I miss giffing and writing and hopefully one day I will come back to it

[housewifebuck]

I really haven’t been finding much joy in tumblr lately but I miss my tumblr friends and mutuals…if any of y’all wanna exchange other socials plssss lmk <3

[rageserenity]

It's 2024. Are you still thinking about movieverse!Cherik? Because I am.

For the past several months, there's only been a very slow trickle of posts/fics in the xmcu cherik tag. Let's try to breathe some life back into this incredible pairing!

With one clear winner of my poll, here's thirty prompts for the thirty days of April. (This is a super chill, laid-back event---do these in any order, interpret them as loosely as you like! Create in any medium! Fic, art, gifs, meta, incoherent screaming about the otp…all winners in my book.)

The only rule here is to cherik too close to the sun. Alright. Here are the prompts.

Mutual Pining

Doesn't really even need elaboration! Write that horrifically slow slow-burn. Gif every time McAvoy made insane fuck me eyes on screen. Make a playlist of songs about impossible love.

2. Alternate Meetings

There are endless quotes about how these two complete each other in a way no one they'd met before or after ever did. How else could they have met?

3. Erik Has A Telepathy Kink

This is basically canon. Let my boy get freaky!

4. Canon Fix-It

All the times Fox fucked it up. There are endless options.

5. Hurt/Comfort

Put them in that Situation. Put them in that Blender. Break them apart and put them back together ❤️‍🩹

6. Canon Compliant

Draw that missing scene! Gif your favourite cherik moment!

7. Beach Divorce

Make it worse. Make it better. Show it to us exactly how it was. Break it down in a 3,000 word meta. Go wild!

8. Domestics

Sometimes you just want to see them doing normal couple things. Erik put the gun down.

9. Found Family

The real heart of x-men!

10. Time Travel

There are SO many possibilities here. Stick them in a time loop. Give them a chance to change their past.

11. AU

Love a good AU!

12. There Is Only One Bed

Had to get this one in here. What better way to amp up the tension?

13. Genosha

By some miracle, cherik actually did end up together at the end of 2019s trash bag disaster Dark Phoenix. We aren’t making a big enough deal about this.

14. Declaration(s) of Love

Who says it first? How do they say it and when? Have they said it…without saying it?

15. Jealousy

Need I say more.

16. Reunion

These two have absolutely no chill.

17. Soulmates

Classic prompt, had to get this in here too.

18. The DOFP Aircraft

The TENSION here. Break it down for me. How does Charles feel about his injury? How does Erik feel about his injury?

19. Gay Mutant Road Trip

You already know.

20. Body Swap

SO fun when people have superpowers.

21. First Kiss

When? How? Who initiated it?

22. The Mansion

Mansion!content is a genre of its own.

23. Conflicting Ideology

Give me your theses. Who’s right? Can they ever reconcile completely? Write a fic where it drives them apart.

24. Sebastian Shaw

A trope unto himself.

25. Team As Matchmaker

They had to have known something was going on, didn’t they?

26. Cooking

Charles deserves a good meal. Also, imagine Erik using his powers in the kitchen. The sheer domesticity…

27. Hurt No Comfort

Plenty of scope with these two 🥲

28. Growing Old Together

Giving Sirs Ian Mckellan and Patrick Stewart their props as well!

29. Making Up

*pushes chess board across the table* sorry babe

30. Charles Xavier Did More For Mutants Than You'll Ever Know

Rising to each other’s defense. Only I can insult this man.

I will be tracking #revivecherik to reblog stuff! Here’s a fic collection for the same. Let’s get this ball rolling! Please feel free to send me an ask if you’ve got anything to say! And most importantly, let’s all have fun 😁

*I know a few of you preferred something like a gift exchange because of the commitment factor—I’m super down to organise a tiny one for the handful of us! If this promptathon doesn’t flop horribly, we can hopefully do a whole bunch of stuff :)

If you read this post all the way through, please reblog for reach! Thank you! Hoping you participate come April.

Shoutout to @inmymagnetoera for reaching out and helping with this!

[bree-cheesy]

His Favorite Girl

Eddie Munson! x fem!reader

Part 2 Part 3

A/N: I know, it’s been a minute, I’m sorry (not really). Haven’t been super motivated to write so hopefully this redeems me a little. I wanted to write something along the lines of Drug Dealer Eddie and innocent-ish reader being his favorite client. I tried to make it filthy to make up for not giving you guys any fics for a minute so please forgive me! It is a bit short, but I’m not sorry lol. I hope y’all think it’s good!!

Credit to @eddiemunsonsource​ for the gif!

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI OR I WILL MELT YOUR FACES. Sort of maybe friends to lovers. Porn with a little plot. (kissing, dirty talk, rough!eddie, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), face fucking, slight mean Eddie (calls you a slut once), cock drunk reader, choking, rough p in v, bruises formed, (but good ones if you know what I mean) some aftercare), cuddling at the end, language, drug dealing. No use of Y/N. I think that’s it, let me know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 1668

______________________________________________________________

“That’s it, baby…. Just like that, fuck!” Eddie groaned and moaned as your mouth wrapped tight around his cock, sucking him for all he was worth. Lip gloss sliding up and down his shaft. His hand gripping your hair in a tight fist, his head thrown back with his jaw hung open and slack.

---2 hours earlier---

You were Eddie’s favorite buyer. He always gave you a discount and even sometimes gave you it for free. You noticed he’d always give it to you for free if you wore that skirt that made him need to jerk off every time you left his trailer. Tonight was no different at the start. Wearing that little skirt, prancing up to his doorstep, sliding on some more “Bomb Cherry” lip gloss you bought at the mall a few days ago. Knocking you heard a few curses muffled behind the door before it swung open and Eddie was in front of you, holding onto the door frame with a white knuckle grip. He looked sweaty and tense. “Hey, sweetheart. Y-You’re early!”

You smiled up at him, eyes beaming. “Yup! I have a date with Jason tonight and he wants to smoke with me, so I wanted it early.” Eddie couldn’t stop that sinking feeling, but kept a smile on his face.

“Of course,” He opened the door for you to come in. “Come on in.”

He shut the door when you got inside and disappeared down the main hallway. “Should’ve given me some notice, sweetheart. Probably would’ve been a bit more prepared.” He came back into sight with a small plastic baggie.

Eyeing the bag you noticed it was more than usual. “Eddie, that’s too much.” You scrambled for your money in your small coin purse. “I-I only brought a 20… That’s not enough for that.” You looked up at the pretty boy standing tall over you, teeth pressed into your lip.

“Babe, you know you don’t need to pay. Don’t even worry.” He winked at you. “Think of it as a gift for being such a loyal customer.”

You shook your head and dug around for more money. “N-No, I can’t… You’d be losing out on money…” Managing to find another 20, you grabbed his hand and thrusted the two bills into his palm. He rolled his eyes and stuffed the bills in the collar of your tank top.

“Sweetheart, I have half the high school buying from me. I raise prices for them because they’re desperate.” He ran his fingers up the side of your neck, causing chills to go up your body, his thumb lightly rubbing against your jaw. “I promise, giving you free weed is not hurting my business.”

You pouted, opening your mouth to argue, but you gasped softly when he pushed his thumb past your lips, making you shut up. He looked down at you with a hunger you hadn’t seen from him before. It made your knees weak and you almost had to grab onto him for balance.

“But, if you’re so desperate to pay for it, you can do something for me…. Only if you want to of course.” He leaned close to you, pressing you up against him. “Ditch Carver and stay here.” You whimpered and he smiled at you as he felt your tongue press up against his thumb. “Ditch the Jock and stay here so I can show you how you deserve to be treated. You come here in this tight little skirt and it takes so much in me to not bend you over the table and fuck you stupid.” He takes his thumb out of your mouth and drops that hand to the back of your thigh.

“Eddie… please…” You whined softly and pressed more against him.

“Please what, baby?” He leaned in and ran his nose up your neck, starting to guide you to the wall.

“Touch me…” Your voice was a whisper and the words barely came out before he shoved his hand up your skirt and dragged your now soaked panties down your legs just enough to slip his fingers between your folds.

“Fuck, baby… So goddamn wet for me.” His middle finger was at your clit in seconds and you whimpered, falling into his chest as he rubbed it gently. You kissed his neck, sucking softly, wanting to mark him up.

He picked you up and carried you down the hallway towards his room, throwing you on the bed and stripping you of your clothes before he swiped his band t-shirt off. You bit your lip and looked at his inked up chest as he admired your body. Soft skin under his fingers. His thumb running over the small heart stick and poke tattoo on your hip. He grabbed your ankles, roughly pulling you towards him and he dropped to his knees between your legs. Gasping, you instantly grab onto his shoulder, feeling slightly dizzy with pleasure. He kissed softly up your thigh and suddenly bit down, making you squeal and tighten your grip on his shoulders.

“God, you smell so fucking good. Wanna bottle it up and wear it as cologne.” You didn’t get a chance to think before his mouth was fastened to your clit. You cried out and grabbed onto his hair, moaning and bucking into his mouth. He grunted and held onto your thighs with an iron grip that will no doubt leave some bruises. Bruises you’d wear proudly. “So fucking good, baby… So much better than I imagined…”

You looked down at him with a grin, a sudden ego boost flooding your brain. “Y-You’ve imagined this?” Still a little breathless from the nonstop abuse to your pussy by his mouth. He nodded and swirled his tongue around your clit.

“Of course, sweetheart. How could I not. S’fucking pretty everytime you come here. Wanna make you mine, baby…” You moaned at his words and licked your lips. He slipped a finger inside you and curled it just enough to hit that spot that made you melt under his hands. Those big hands you’d imagined wrapped around your throat every night.

“I-I’m yours, Eddie… Promise.” You gasped and felt another finger go inside you. He grinded against his face, the feeling of your orgasm getting so close. Just as you were about to, he stopped and kissed up your body. You whined and he kissed your neck. “Eddie…. Come on, I was so close…”

“I know, baby, but when you cum, it’s gonna be on my cock.” He kissed you hungrily, commanding your lips. You kissed him back and wrapped your legs around his waist. He pulled back and wrapped his hand around your throat before pulling his pants and boxers off. You whined and reached out for his cock, your mouth watering with a sudden need for it. He chuckled and let you up. Your lips instantly attached to it and he groaned, fisting his hand tight in your hair.

“S’it, baby… Just like that, fuck!” He threw his head back as you took him in all the way and gagged on him. He thrusted his hips against your mouth and you moaned around him. Tears filled your eyes from his tip poking the back of your throat and they streamed down your face. He lightly slapped your face and held onto your head with both hands before roughly fucking your face. God, you were in heaven. The need to please Eddie filled your every thought. “Such a good little slut for me. Yeah? You like my cock deep in your throat? F-Fuck…!” He pulled out, letting you get a gasp of air before going right back in. You tapped his thigh a few times, signaling him to stop. He pulled out. “Are you okay?” Sudden worry filled his eyes.

You nodded and laid back on the bed, sniffling softly. “Yeah. I just need you inside me, now…” Whining softly you spread your legs wide for him.

He bit his lip and looked around for a condom before pulling it on. “Fuck, my favorite girl ruined under me… Never thought I’d see this outside my dreams.” He grabbed your neck again and you smiled, loving the feeling of his rings digging into the sensitive skin on your neck. Another bruise you’d wear with pride. “Gonna go in sweetheart, M’kay?” You nodded and he slowly slid inside you, groaning at how tight you were wrapped around him. You moaned and squeezed your eyes shut, getting used to how big he was inside you. He started to thrust in and out, slowly at first, letting you get used to him. After a minute or two, he went fast and rough, wanting to ruin your pussy for every other man. He grunted and groaned, still holding onto your neck. You reached up and dug your nails into his back, no doubt scratching it up. “Mine. You’re mine, now, baby. All mine…! Fuck!” He let go of your neck and leaned his head down, sucking hard on your nipples while fucking you harder.

“Eddie! M’gonna c-cum!” You cried out and came hard around his cock, squirting out as he kept rubbing your clit. You sobbed in pleasure and buried your face in his neck. He groaned and came inside you after a few quick thrusts. You both breathed heavily and he gently pulled out of you, making you hiss at the empty feeling. He threw the condom away and came back to your limp figure on the bed with a wet washcloth to clean you up. He rubbed at your hips.

“Sorry baby, got a little carried away.” He eyed your neck, the red spot forming a bruise matching the ones on your hips. You shook your head and sipped the cold water he gave you.

“S’okay, I like them…” Your voice was scratchy and he smiled at you, kissing you once on the lips before getting in bed with you. You snuggled up to him and shortly fell asleep before he could say anything else.

[scxrlett-wid0w]

Hiya I have read you Natasha and Wanda fics and I would like to say that they are so good and if it’s possibly u you could do a age regression with either Natasha or Wanda or both and reader set up a whole date night scenario with the help of maybe Yelena or carol and they get annoyed and just become really possessive over reader and they end up fighting and reader has just woke up from her nap and comes downstairs and they all stop arguing and they make up as reader told them to. Hopefully you understand that 😂🥰. How u have a good day also if u don’t want to do it that’s fine

Stop Fighting! | WandaNat X Fem!R

Gif not mine, credits to creator

Pairing: WandaNat x Fem!Reader

Word count: tbd

Warnings: Slight Arguing, Age Regression, Fluff, Little One (R), Mama (N), Mommy (W),

A/N: I'm So Sorry This Is Like A Year Late! Hopefully It's What You Wanted/Expected <3

Summary: The Ask

Stop fighting!

"It has to be perfect!!" You squealed whilst Carol was laying the plates on the dining table

"I know munchkin," She chuckled "why don't you draw your mommies a nice picture, yeah?" She finished setting the table and picked you up.

She rests you on her hip and carries you to your playroom

"Bu' I wanna help youuu!" A loud whine left your mouth when Carol puts you down.

"Don't be like that little one, I'm sure your mommies would appreciate a little picture to go with their meal and dessert, which you can help me make, eh?"

"Okay Aun'ie Carol!" You run over to your little table and grab a pack of crayons

Carol walks back to the kitchen and stirs the sauce that's currently cooking in the pan

Half of an hour later you hear a car pull up the drive and your chair falls over from how fast you stand up

You run to the front door and practically vibrate from excitement when you see the handle pull down

"MOMMY! MAMA! YOU HOME! YOU HOME!!"

Wanda drops her bags and picks you up

"Hi baby we missed you so so much" she rubs her nose against yours and chuckles

Nat comes around your other side and kisses your cheek

"Привет моя любовь" (hi my love) Nat takes Wanda's and her bags upstairs whilst Wanda carries you to the kitchen where she sees Carol

"Oh... Carol, I didn't realise you were here"

Wanda places you in your highchair so she can take over cooking from Carol

"Yeah I'm still here, this cutie must've used the emergency list to call me," She strokes your chin "Said she needed help so I came 'round straight away"

Wanda glares at her "What kind of help did she need that required....You?"

Carol gulps and takes a step back "I can't tell you, it's her surprise for you"

"Mommyyyyy! Be nice! We jus makin dinner for 'oo! Wanted make dinner for us thwree an Aun'ie Cawol jus helpin'."

You huff and pout as Wanda's eyes softened towards Carol

"Oh Carol I'm so sorry, I just assumed the worst and I shouldn't have I'm truly sorry" She hugs Carol and they make up just as the Oven dings to signal the meal was ready

In the end, You and your mommies enjoy a fancy meal (with Auntie Carol to make up for the misunderstanding) and finish the day off with watching your favourite movie: Frozen

"Bye bye Aun'ie Carol, fank yoo fo' helping make dinner!" You squeeze her goodbye before having to go to bed as it was your bedtime

"Did you brush your little teethies малышка?" Nat asks, as she climbs into bed behind you, as Wanda snuggles into you into her front

"Mhm, sleepy time now?" You hold onto Wanda and use her chest to rub your itchy face

"Yes sweetheart, sleepy time now goodnight darling" Your mommies hold onto you as your soft snores fill the quiet room

"We love you" They say before drifting off to sleep too.

------------------------------------------------

Thanks For Reading <3

My requests are now open again because I'm ready to get back into writing

[deadsetromance]

IN THE WEE SMALL HOURS OF THE MORNING

(not my gif!)

gerard way x gn!reader

summary: he's your roommate...but maybe he's more than that.

warnings: unedited writing, fluff, no use of [y/n]

note: so sorry i haven't posted in forever! i have a few requests and a few more half-complete drafts, so hopefully those should be up soon &lt;3

you supposed there were worse roommates out there. actually, thinking about it, you realized how lucky you were.

you got along really well with your roommate, gerard. he’d been sharing an apartment for nearly two years now, and you were sure you knew him better than you knew yourself.

you know he forgets to take the coffee pods out of the keurig, and sometimes he leaves the heater running for too long.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen him sleep. sometimes you wonder if he’s a vampire or something, what with the scribbling coming from his room at all hours of the night.

to be fair… you’re hardly any better. you sleep little more than he does, when you do fall asleep it’s usually on the couch, and you leave the television on all the time.

you’re incredibly lucky, you realize. lucky that he’s as sweet as he is, bringing you coffee in the mornings, and stopping by your job on his commute. he’s even slipped a few drawings your way. some are drawings of you, others are silly little doodles he gives you when you’re having a bad day. sometimes, he’ll show you characters for the comics he’s working on, asking for your input.

you realize that you’re lucky that he’s so helpful, that he’s not a creep, that you both get along so well. you’re lucky that you’ve found a friend who will sit and watch television reruns with you when neither of you can fall asleep.

that’s why you slip a record under his door one night. you don’t know if he even likes sinatra, but you give it to him anyway. there’s no special occasion really, you just thought of him when you found in the wee small hours in the record store you visited. you don’t sign your name on the post it you stuck to it. all you write is “from one insomniac to another”. you feel embarrassed for some reason you can’t place, and something slithers in your stomach. maybe you shouldn’t have given it to him…maybe he doesn’t like sinatra. it’s too late now though, it’s already done.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

it’s late one night…or early, depending on how you look at it. you’re tired, whatever movie you were watching forgotten and on mute. you can hear gerard milling around in the kitchen, you can smell the coffee he’s brewing. you’re tired, but you can’t fall asleep.

“thanks for the record” gerard called from the kitchen. “i really liked it”

you smile, one of those hazy tired smiles, the kind you do when you’re between being awake and asleep. “i didn’t know if you liked sinatra, i hope it’s ok”

you miss the way he grins at you, too busy yawning.

“it’s great i actually…” he walked off in the middle of his sentence, a habit you’d noticed he had, only to come back with the disk in his hands. “do you mind?”

it didn’t matter if you said no, he already turned to put it on, smiling back at you as he dropped the needle to the record.

“what are we watching?” he asked, sitting next to you on the couch. close enough to be touching you, but still far enough to give you space. it’s like a paradox, you think, but then you tell yourself to shut up. you’re too tired to know what you’re talking about.

“i dunno, i stopped paying attention.” your eyes flit to the movie playing on the television, watching the car chase for a moment before turning your attention back to him. “you’re going to keep yourself up all night drinking coffee this late.” you might have frowned at him if you weren’t too busy beaming.

he knew you were teasing, you could tell by the glint in his eye. “i just need a few finishing touches on my project and then i’m done.”

you didn’t say anything more for a while, taking a moment to take everything in. the record playing softly in the background as you curled closer to gerard. his head resting on yours as you listened to his breathing, memorizing the pace of his heart.

it’s quiet…intimate, and you’re tired. tired and happy.

“you tired?” he questions softly.

“a little,” you don’t know why you’re whispering.

“do you work tomorrow?”

“yeah, i open,” you groan, rubbing your eyes. you think you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head, but you don’t want to get your hopes up.

it’s quiet again, though this time it’s too quiet. you’re left with thoughts of gerard running through your head, and you wish that one of you would say something. you should be ashamed, you scold yourself, thinking of him the way you do when he’s sitting right next to you.

“what are you thinking about?” he prods gently. he’s soft with you, the way he always is, careful not to overstep with his questions.

“nothing really,” you lie, because you’d rather not risk what comfort you have now. “what are you thinking about?”

it seems like he didn’t expect the question to be turned back on him. he hesitates, and the silence is thick…too thick. his face is illuminated by the light from the tv, and he looks nervous. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look quite as terrified as he does now. the lighting shifts, and he’s blanketed in darkness again, but you notice something change in his eyes.

“i think i love you” he whispers against your ear.

you feel like you can’t breathe. you think you heard him wrong. you’re worried this is all a dream, a good dream, the kind that would leave you reeling when you wake up.

you want to hear him say it again.

you lean your head back against his shoulder, and he breathes out with a shudder. you watch the explosions on tv as your hand finds his. “i love you too.”

that’s it then, everything is out in the open. maybe you’re tired, but you sigh gently as he cups your face in his hands. thinking back, you can’t exactly pinpoint when your feelings for him changed, but you suppose it doesn’t matter now. he loves you and you love him. it’s surprisingly simple.

“can i…?” he doesn’t need to finish his question as you lean in closer to him. his breath is warm, and he smells like coffee and sleepless nights, and you’re waiting for him. your eyes are closed as you breathe him in, and they stay that way as he kisses you softly.

he’s…soft, softer than you imagine, and you can’t help but smile.

in the wee small hours of the morning, he is yours, and you are his.

[bowieandqueen11]

Seductress / Izzy Hands Imagine

Request: Hi i was wondering if you could do an izzy x reader where lucius purposely tries to make izzy jealous (it works btw) the rest is up to you also could the reader have gender neutral pronouns so everyone can share the fun! Thank you for fueling the hyperfixation fire! Lots of love 💕

Aww lovely that's so kind of you, thank you!! I love writing Lucius being a little shit (affectionate) towards Izzy lmao we love a flirty bestie!

Warning: Nothing too graphic but NSFW, some sexual innuendos and some strong language!

(I do not own OFMD or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @dizzy-izzy-hands.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

You should have known rightly from that tell-tale smirk that Lucius had nothing good planned.

The man had barely been able to sit still all day. He seemed to have taken it upon himself to be as much of a nuisance as possible: must have unwrapped himself from Black Pete's arms that morning, sat up with wide stretching arms and a smile as ferocious as the jaded depths of Davy Jones' locker itself as he decided, with an assertive nod to the rest of the crew, to cause as much mischief as he could that day.

After all, Lucius, the king of pickpocketing, was more than acute at spotting stolen glances from miles away. Of noting darting looks; that morning, as he had sipped his orange juice and observed Izzy over the rim of his glass, it hadn't escaped his notice how he had almost- god, so he had been so close to not losing his nerve. He had warbled, almost swaying from side to side as Izzy plundered the depths of his mind to try and find the courage to sit and have breakfast on your other side, but as soon as you had raised your eyes curiously to see what he had been doing, he jolted back as if electrocuted and scurried off back to the deck. Lucius' sigh had been frustrated enough to blow bubbles of juice out and splatter them onto your already scowling face.

Nor had he missed the lingering wistfulness shrouding Izzy's eyes that same afternoon: the way he had watched you from the rigging of the Revenge, clinging onto the rope as if for dear life any time you passed him by. From helping Roach roll more barrels of dried meat down into the kitchen, or nearly keeling yourself over the edge of the ship to avoid Edward and Stede's impromptu sword fighting lesson, Izzy had been almost... calm. Placated? Silent? Bashful, Lucius thought, as he had watched the man's fist squeeze so tightly into a ball he thought the leather might tear down the seams right there and then. With a hand on his hip and a huff in your direction, Lucius was getting incredibly fed up of being the only one to notice how bashfully Izzy tried to look anywhere else when your eyes met. How your voice cracked when he had come sliding up to you, hammer looking quite menacing as he thumped it against his palm and asked you why you had made it your life's work to cross Izzy's line of vision any time you could.

'This has been going on for weeeeeks, when are you two just going to stop pretending you don't want to slam each other into the wall until you're gasping for air every time you see each other', he had groaned, throwing his head back and trying to beckon Wee John over to give his concerns some backing. The man, too busy sewing a hole in his trousers back together, and having enough sense to fear for his life with the way Izzy was glaring daggers his way, quickly shook his head and buried it back down in the mottled fabric.

'I have no idea what you're talking about', you had replied curtly, effectively ending the conversation. Even if he had flared his nostrils and thwacked you teasingly over the head with the long edge of his sleeve, a blind man would have been able to see the glimmer in your eye as you looked hopefully in Izzy's direction.

No, this man really did not miss a thing. And it was beginning to drive you insane.

Thankfully, he had been gracious enough to already warn you ahead of time about his brand new spanking plan to get this idiot of a first mate to admit his feelings for you. About how, once Stede had informed the crew that they would be stopping off on a little island called 'Tangerine Grove' during the sunset, so he and Ed could have their daily constitutional through the silver gleams cast by pale tree light only the rock hidden away behind the tip of Blindman's Cove could bring, a lightbulb had gone off in Lucius' head.

Which is how you had ended up here: shivering under the growing violet wisps of dusk that splattered the spring sky, sitting alone along an unfamiliar stretch of beach, wishing you could rescind your acceptance of Lucius' excited plan and instead go join your friends as they ran, barefoot, through the wet grains and wrestled each other into the waves. Only Izzy was still standing apart, looking entirely uncomfortable as he rubbed his jaw against his shoulder. Without even realising, he found his heel to be tapping a thousand miles per minute upon the ground: a horrid itching sensation spiking its way up his legs as he tried his best to look nonchalantly towards the dipping curve of the sun. To look anywhere else apart from at you. God, he fucking hated the way you made him feel so... fragile. So stunted. Even Edward had encouraged him that morning to try and express his lingering feelings to you, but a harrowing hatred had pierced his heart and caged the words from escaping their writhing chambers.

Hatred at how foolish he felt running away. Hatred at how Edward teased him, despite seeming like a lovesick idiot for a stupid twat that would be seem like shit scraped off the bottom of his boot compared to you. Hatred at how vulnerable he felt. Hatred for himself. For how he had been the harbinger of his own ruination. How, in the end, his misery was no one's fault but his own.

'Well now', Lucius enunciates in a sing song voice, clucking his tongue at the end. You almost jump out of your skin as he appears before you, drawn away from watching Izzy's face contort in flashes of fury as Lucius' torso replaces your view. His furrowed brow and pursed lips almost endue him with a sage like intensity, as he dips his head and shoots you an almost sympathetic frown.

He waggles his eyebrows as he perches down on the cragged rocks lining the shoreline next to you. 'What do we have here, then? Little Y/n, sitting here on this god forsaken rock with stupid arse over there too emotionally gagged to come keep you company. How tragic. Do you think the stick up his bum stops him from walking over here? Or maybe it's-'

'Lucius, you really don't have to do this.' You grab onto his arm, almost pleading with him through the frantic batting of your eyelashes, but Lucius just pats your fingers and intertwines them within his own. Laying your hands on his lap, he cocks his head and carefully strokes a path down your knuckles.

'Anything for my bestie', he winks, before glancing rather conspicuously behind his shoulder to trace Izzy's path. 'Besides, if that man doesn't just admit his feelings, one of us is going to end up kicking him up the arse. And as much as I would love that to be me, I want one of my favourite people in the whole world to be happy more. Trust me, I’m fantastic at forcing two knobheaded people to admit their true feelings for each other.'

’Oi, I'm not a kno-’, you try to retort with a roll of your eyes, but are stopped short by Lucius grabbing the bottom of your chin like crab pincers digging into your skin, and has already turned your face so your nose is lined up directly with his mouth.

'You know, it's been a long time since I sketched you.' His fingers dart up your face, walking their way up your cheek until Lucius brushed his knuckles back down to your jawline. 'If you like', he leans closer to you and purses his lips, 'we could fill the rest of Stede's journal right up.' He makes sure his voice is loud enough - sultry enough, that even Roach perks his head up from where he's laying starfish on the shoreline.

There we go.

Bingo.

A muscle in Izzy's tense jaw jumps: a minute twitch, but enough to let a far too smug looking Lucius know that he's on the right track.

'Or if that's not your jam, I know something else we can do', he leans in closer so his lips move against the shell of your ear with each word, and despite yourself your back rolls with shivers at the warm blows against your inner ear. 'Roach clued me in to some hidden compartments Stede had built into the ship. No more audience - just us, if you catch my drift', he finishes with an accentuating wink and kiss to the back of your hand.

The sound of a high pitched whistling even made Frenchie and the Swede pause their scuttling in the dirt for starfish, whipping their heads under their arms and burying themselves in the sand as they waited for the cannon fire to land. Nothing came, though. Instead, the sound only grew louder... and louder... until everyone was glancing uneasily up at the puffy clouds, waiting for a cleft to appear through the weaving pink breeze.

Only you and Lucius knew to look inland, rather than up at the heavens.

And there he stood: the incoming hit. The seething tempest. The washed up wreck.

The poor man was already fuming. If he bit his tongue an inch harder, the blood would begin to pour out of the corners of the man's mouth as if he had willingly swallowed arsenic, and was allowing it to fester in the recesses of his heart. Anything, anything would be better than letting it tremble. So blood it is. Down the poison willingly goes.

You would have been able to hear the sigh that blew out from Izzy’s flaring nostrils from the crow’s nest. Forget that: you’d be able to feel the burning steam radiating off his near vibrating body from the next continent. With each passing second Izzy could feel his heart decaying in pulsing oozes through his chest cavity. And with every smile, every lingering brush of someone else's fingers on your skin, the rot residing in his soul became that little bit more mutilating. The touch of Lucius' pointer finger against your cupid's bow finally goaded his insides to slither out in a body wracking convulsion: his heart finally mouldering out through the corner of his eyes in snaking tendrils.

He finds his feet pounding across the horizon before the rational part of his brain could try to keep up. Lucius barely has time to register the swarm of black buzzing in front of his face before claws have dug into his striped shirt and have hoisted him up like a ragdoll. The feel of Izzy's teeth baring against his nose is enough even to make Lucius' head recoil.

'Get your fucking little, dirty, clawed rat hands the fuck away from them.' Izzy spits at Lucius' boots, content only when the man grimaced and took a hop backwards and away from his lacerating fingers.

'What's your problem, Dizzy Izzy', Lucius hisses back, hunching down onto his haunches and resting his hands treacherously on your shoulders: far too close, as he squeezes you reassuringly. Too damn fucking close, for Izzy's taste. 'Just because it's not your fingers, doesn't mean you have to be so jealous. We don't own each other on this ship. If you're interested, all you have to do is say.'

'Who says I'm fucking jealous', he tries to shrug, but his voice is strained. Wracked. He's obviously trying to stop himself melting to your feet and placating himself at your shrine right there and then, ready to die under your heel.

Izzy glances uncertainly along the ground, doing his best to seem as straight laced as usual, but growing more and more discourteous in his manner at the way Lucius grins at his growing discomfort. 'Oh come on, you wouldn't mind if Y/n and I headed back to the ship right now, right? After all, Dizzy Izzy doesn't get jealous. He wouldn't care if he could hear screaming coming from-'

'You shut your fucking mouth.' He shoves a thick finger into Lucius' chest, nearly toppling over himself trying to get his arm in to separate the man from your back.

'Or what?', Lucius replies, trying to keep his grip by your neck while also trying to bat off Izzy's slicing hands. He manages to pull back and wring his hand out right before Izzy bared his teeth and took a chunk out of it. 'What are you going to do, Izzy? Give me a lashing? I'm sure you'd love to do that to Y/n. Or maybe for them to do that to you - I've always known you were a mas-'

'You little. Fucking. Tease.' Despite the ferocity of his words as he spits them out from his serpent tongue, the tenderness of his fingers as he reaches down to grip your wrist surprises you. He tugs you up, taking a step around your body as if to shield you from the gratified smirk Lucius is radiating.

'I could destroy you, you know, and everyone would thank me for it. Because that's what you do, isn't it?' He was trying his best to sound as bratty as possible, but there was an almost imperceptible shake in his fingers as he tightened his grip on your wrist. 'A proper little seductress. Using and destroying perfect things.'

'Perfect?', you whisper out from behind his back, your hand coming up to touch your lips as if you could taste the sweetness dripping off the word. Izzy's brows furrow as he curses himself. Fuck. He's fucking done it now. What kind of sap will you think he is? Standing there with knees nearly knocking before you, some kind of fucking pirate with his squeaky voice and thumb circling delicate paths along your wrist.

'Do you really mean that?', you ask, the eagerness in your tone enough to make Izzy's breath falter in the back of his throat. He nearly chokes on it, but finds just enough to pant out the truest words left in his rotten body.

'I... meant, what I said.'

You flash your eyes toward him in surprise, but the man is already staring directly at you. What you were surprised about though, were the tears that were shrouding the usual piercing glare of his irises. He looked almost… childlike. Mythical. Almost pitiable, standing on the long stretch of mist, feet crushing into the grains of sand as if he were willing himself to stay anchored, to not fade away with his tears into the spray of mist.

A man strung up by the tendrils of heart, doomed to stay wanting, waiting, fading into the rays of light.

It was almost phantasmal. And as you used your free hand to cup Izzy's cheek, it was almost enough for him to trick him into believing that he was alive again.

Even Lucius’ mouth drops down into a surprised ‘oh’ as a lone tear manages to tear a ragged path down the first mate’s sullen cheek.

He snorts, raising his eyes to the piercing blue skyline and trying to blink the tears back past his eyelashes. It's when the whining starts: the soft, pitiable howls of a kicked man being held for the first time of his life, that the patchwork mould surrounding what's left of Israel Hands' inner sanctum begins to crack away. He burrows himself into the warm, welcoming palm of your hand, allowing the water to flow over the bud of his nose.

Before your feet could even register that they were moving, Izzy has dragged you away from Lucius and into the shade of a nearby orange tree. A few fireflies began to peek their heads out from between the stout leaves at the disturbance: like honey dripping down from bowed boughs, brushing kindly against Izzy's glowing cheeks and making him seem almost saint-like as they gathered around his head. The sound of your shipmates begins to blur into the distance as the singing is replaced by the wretched pants of Izzy's breath.

He slams your back against the curved bark of the tree, sliding his boots in front of yours and leaning his body over you, effectively trapping you between the scratchy bark and the heaving muscle of his abdomen. You shiver, unsure if it's due to the champagne bubbles lapping their way towards your bare feet, or the feel of Izzy raising the wrist he's almost bruising above your head, no longer trying to hide the fact he's holding you in place against his body.

'Why do you stay around such unsavoury characters.' The bastard bares his teeth at you. God, he was enjoying this far too much. Enjoying raising his knee until the bone nearly kneaded against your groin. Enjoying using his free hand to grip onto your jaw just as Lucius had done, but far needier. He digs into your skin as he tilts your head back, and you can feel his smirk branding it’s way into the bare strip of skin between the nape or your neck and the hollow of your earlobe as he leans down to whisper: 'A fine creature such as yourself should be careful of deranged creatures like that. They slink out of the depths like demons. So perverse.'

Fucker makes sure to run his lips from your shoulder blade right up to your pulse point first, though.

'You should thank me for saving you from his depravity.'

'Oh of course', you begin to smile, playing along with his little fable. His little knight in shining armour tale, so he didn't break apart so easily. 'I have to thank you. You've been watching me for a while, haven't you? Taking care of me from afar...', you take a chance while he's distracted breathing in your scent to dip down and nip at his earlobe.

His legs start to waver then, and with a quick reflex that had got you onto Stede’s crew in the first place, you manage to steady him with a hand placed around the firm muscle of his waist.

'I did my best to save you from that seductress.' His teeth clash against your bottom lip in an almost wantonly manner, hovering his mouth over yours. It takes almost all of his self control to seem like he’s seething as his nose pokes against yours; it takes every piercing shred of self restraint he has to not wet your bottom lip with his tongue.

As tough as he thinks he's being, he’s not incredibly subtle in his thoughts and temptations, if the way he can’t stop staring at your mouth is anything to go by. Something wild makes his eyes gloss over: a tightly leashed repression, a long tempered heartache burrowing their way out of his eyes until he can barely hold back the parasitic tears.

His mouth trembles as it falls open, 'you deserve someone proper. Someone better-', he swallows thickly, eyes darting quickly between your own and back down to your widening lips. 'Someone better than them. Someone better than me-'

He looks wonderstruck, and you can't bear just to see its ferity anymore. You have to taste it. And if the manic glint in his eye is anything to go by, Izzy is in exactly the same boat.

His words are quickly enveloped by your mouth. He gasps against your tongue, his own quivering as an overwhelming rush of pure love gushed through him like the rips of a storm. He wastes no time: afraid this was a trick, a prank, a cruel mirage, his mind still trapped in one of his restless, far too fleeting dreams. He lips frantically latch, smother, tug, overwhelm you until you can barely breathe. Can barely feel. Your eyes flicker close in bliss as he allows you a moment of respite from all his pent-up want, his all consuming need, planting a trail of open mouth kisses followed by wide planted licks down your throat.

The slide of your feet against the trim of his steadying boot is a welcome relief from the burn of Izzy's hand as he grips onto your waist like a man possessed. His fingers clench, nearly lifting your lower half up to grind against his abdomen, stopping himself only at the last second and lowering you back down into his unforgiving grip.

You almost gasp when you feel your name roll of his tongue and reverberate through your neck in a hoarse moan. He tries to subdue his embarrassment by finally... finally reaching up and lacing the fingers clawing at your wrist within your own. If he wasn't too busy devouring the bare stretch of skin between your neck and your breast, Izzy perhaps might have felt embarrassed by the way his pelvis was bucking up wildly, leather slapping lewdly up against your inner thigh.

But he isn't embarrassed. He doesn't feel anything at all, except for a coursing rush of life flow through his veins for the first time in years.

He crumbles against you, surprisingly gentle as he claws and kneads and mewls into you, his lips dragging down and over to the side of your jaw now with quick, tempered nicks. His hand lets go of yours to trail down your inner palm, a shit eating grin branding its way into your chest as it traces down your arm, and then quickly falls so both hands are squeezing tightly into the meat of your waist. He bites down at your skin, incisors almost drawing blood against your pec. He swipes his tongue against the cut in apology, sucking against the skin as his trousers bounce up and tighten at the sound of you mewling. You scramble your free hand onto his shoulder to try and keep yourself in place, the man ravishing you so forcefully the tips of your toes could barely touch the ground.

Your full weight is resting on his torso, happy to let yourself flop over his shoulders and allow easier access for him to litter hickeys along the sinews of your throat. He does so gladly, making sure on his way to lift his hands and move them to slap down on your buttocks with a squeeze that leaves you reeling.

You're too busy whimpering at the feel of Izzy's inner thigh beginning to bulge against your crotch to feel the sting, his leather trousers beginning to tent in an uncomfortable way that made his biceps squirm as he wrapped them around your back. To mask the sharp barks that he begins to whine, he bites onto your bottom lip and pulls it down with his teeth, until he's satisfied that his tongue has full access to delve down your throat.

You quickly pull back and glance behind Izzy's head when you hear a sing-song 'you're welcome!' and vindicated hum of Lucius receding into the distance.

For someone who saw Lucius as such a threat, Izzy Hands could be quite the little seductress himself.

[undeadcannibal]

I would (and will) fight a small child if it means I can get Gaz fics!!!! Nsfw or sfw (nsfw preferably bc this man does NOT get enough attention)

If you have any ideas you've been wanting to write but don't have a character feel free idc JUST WANT GAZ

But if you need ideas, literally anything with voyeurism and/or exhibitionism. ←Literally my weakness. Sharing, sharing is always fun. Uhhhhm God I swear I come up with shit all the time. Oh! Maybe sharing with Price? I don't ship the two at all they both just happen to be my favorites. Or sharing with Soap! Maybe

I'm trying to help I swear I'm just so tired💀

I'll leave you alone now, thank you!! I love your writing and your page sm! Can't wait to see more from you!!!💕

-🌻🐾

Summary: One-shot with Gaz about him going wild eating out an AFAB Reader~

Genre: One-shot, ficlet, request(s)

Word count: 805 Characters featured: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Warnings: AFAB reader, no pronouns used (I hope, but I’ll change this if someone finds something that I missed!), explicit details about oral sex/cunnilingus, nsf/t!

A/N: Okay look, I know this isn’t what was asked for, but damn it, I know Gaz needs more material for him. And I’m more than happy to provide. Idk. I apologize, but I NEED this man’s mouth on me ASAP! Hopefully you enjoy regardless though ToT and thank you for enjoying my works! ( Gif credit: xxx )

He doesn't like to admit it aloud but he knows he turns feral when eating pussy. Or ass. Really, he's a huge oral fan in general.

There's times where he's content with just going down on you whilst you're preoccupied with another task. He loves the thought of you trying your best to focus while he's got his mouth on you.

So, when you confess you're in the mood to have him eat you out, he's all smiles because he knows it's going to be a good time for both of you.

Doesn't give a damn what you weigh, he'll ask if he can pick you up and sit you on his shoulders so he can eat your pussy while he's standing. When he has permission, it doesn't even matter if you have work that day, he'll convince you to call out. Says he has to "do it properly" or something of the like.

He'll allow the two of you to go about your day together as the two of you normally would. It's not till the two of you have some downtime around noon when he finally makes his move. He asks you to undress and you oblige, getting fully nude for him before he beckons you over.

The moment you're close enough to grab, his hands are on you. Pulling you closer so he could then slide his hands down to the back of your thighs, just below the curvature of your ass. With a cheeky grin on his face, Gaz was then making you squeal in surprise as he suddenly hoisted you up into his arms. Lifting you up until you had no choice but to sling your legs over his shoulders for just the slightest sense of stability. Even more so as he lead you towards the wall for your back to rest against.

"Doin' alright, love?" 

You'd nod down at him in acknowledgement, reassuring him right as you saw his head disappear between your spread legs. Immediately feeling the sensation of his tongue swiping along the length of your opening, you released a keening moan. Your hips working back and forth against his face as you tried to chase that pleasurable sensation. Thankfully, Kyle didn't seem to mind one bit, grinning for a second before returning to the task at hand. 

His hands splayed across the globes of your ass cheeks as he literally dug in, wiggling his face as he worked his mouth deeper into you. His wet and warm tongue wiggling forth till he was teasing your entrance for a few moments - causing you to huff and breathe harder than before - before pulling back. Placing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your puffy cunt till he reached your clitoris. 

Gazing up at you with warm brown eyes, he made sure you were looking at him the moment he sealed his lips around your swelling bug. Sucking the hypersensitive bundle of nerves into his mouth as spikes of pleasure rolled up from your groin to deep within your belly. Twisting that familiar knot within you tighter as your head fell back against the wall. Your eyes drifting shut and mouth falling open in a silent cry as Kyle worked you over with his far-too-talented mouth. 

His name along with a few cries and pants fell out of your mouth over and over till your mouth felt dry. Beads of sweat matting your hair to your forehead and the rest rolling along to soak into the roots at your scalp. 

The ecstasy he was causing you to feel had you literally hot and bothered as you squirmed and ground your pussy against his face. Your thighs threatened to clamp down on both sides of his head as he ate you out vigorously. Moaning and grunting against your flesh as his mouth drifted away, giving your clit a break so he could leisurely work his tongue in and out of your fluttering core. Pulling his dripping tongue away just to introduce his fingers to your opening.

You'd been far too gone to really feel his hand leaving your ass so he could push his index and middle finger into you. 

Kyle's calloused fingertips wriggled forth till he was sinking into the second knuckle of both digits. Taking personal delight in the way you writhed and cried out for more from him. Watching you lose yourself in your own pleasure just before he moved his soaked mouth back down to your clit, laving his tongue back and forth quickly and repeatedly till you were gasping and crying out that you could barely take it anymore. Grunting and practically growling against you as he works you over till you’re squirting against his face. 

He gladly goes down on you till he knows you’ll struggle walking correctly the next day with how spent your muscles are. 

[dance-with-me-tonight21]

Thoughts on Rykter:

I binged the 1st and 2nd season because I started watching when they were both already out. I was sooooo excited for season 3. For days I went to sleep creating scenearios for what we might get. How they will write the story forward. And I was expecting some drama, exploration of sexuality and how the society reacts.

But come on. I watched enough teen shows to know it's too much and too chaotic what they did to Erik's character. I understand a character can be confused, make mistakes and not know what do to or how to respond in a new situation. Especially considering their age.

But you don't suddenly change the chore of who the character is. A sweet guy who stands up to what's right even if others don't like it turns into a guy that supports bullying and starts adding his share to it? It doesn't make sense however you look at it. And I'm all for justifying character's actions because I always try to think about the motives from different angles. But Erik is starting to make less and less sense and at this point it's just messy writing. One that wants to give us drama with disregard to continuity. This could have been handled differently and still have given us the confusion and miscommunication between Erik and Mathias because of the kiss.

I care a lot about continuity and sadly there is some missing here. Hopefully as season 3 creates chaos the next ones will bring us some peace.

I always try to watch the show when it's finished precisely because of what we were given here. We can't sleep waiting for another episode, then get dissapointed and have nothing to look forward to because it seems like it just keeps getting worse.

I think I'm gonna put a stop to watching the show and come back when season 3 is fully out. Or maybe even until they release the 4th one. I will keep looking at gifs here though so keep posting them.

Sorry for the lenghtly post but I had to.

Take care everyone, I hope we all get through it! ❤️

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Stream-Mas - E.Munson

Summary - Eddie gets his stream crashed once again but this time comes a different surprise to his viewers. Kinda a part 2 to Stream Crasher but can be read as a stand-alone.

Word Count - 834

Warnings - Use of Y/N, female reader, mentions of food, mentions of stretch marks

Author’s Note - Welcome to day 13 of 25! We’re getting there, slowly but surely. I have been busy writing so hopefully everything will be written in advance but we’ll see. I hope you enjoy!

my masterlist

25 days of fics masterlist

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged

Enjoy!

not my gif

not my gif

It had been a good amount of time since Eddie had streamed with his wife crashing. However, he had decided that for the month of December, he’d stream everyday until Christmas Eve. So because of this, he was more likely to get his stream crashed once again. He had been almost all the way through, day 23 to be exact without a crash. As he was streaming a replay of Hogwarts Legacy, he heard his wife’s usual gentle knock before the door slowly swung open, the hinges creaking gently.

“Sorry to interrupt honey, I’m just bringing you some food before I go lay down,” She apologized as she approached her husband who was sporting his usual t-shirt and sweats combo, his large headphones draped over his ears.

“Don’t apologize baby. Why are you going to lay down? You feel okay?” He asked his wife, gently taking the plate from her hands. It was some cut fruit and a steaming hot omelette. 

“Just tired, this pregnancy is kicking my ass.” Eddie took off his headphones and made his way to his pregnant and tired wife.

“You didn’t have to make me anything, baby. You go rest with the little one. I’m gonna wrap up my stream so I can spend some time with you.” Before she could protest, Eddie planted a kiss to her lips before giving her a stern look. She nodded at him, kissing his cheek before heading off to their bedroom. As he sat back down and put his headphones back on, he looked at his chat.

It had completely blown up with comments about the interaction he had just had with his wife. Everyone was surprised that they were expecting a baby. As he began to read the questions, he started to eat the food his wife had made him. “I see you guys have a lot of questions so I’ll answer some before ending the stream. As for how far along she is, she’s 7 months in so not long now. We are very excited to meet our little girl and spoil her rotten. So when the baby is born, I will very likely take a bit of a break from streaming until we get a feel for being parents and getting a routine down. We do have a name but we decided not to share her identity on the internet, I’ll probably refer to her as the baby or my little girl or princess but I’m gonna try to avoid using her name,” Eddie rambled to his stream, reading over the comments of constant ‘congratulations’ coming through, some questions thrown in but the comments were flying by too quick to really read them.

“So I’m cutting the stream shorter than usual but I will be back tomorrow for the last day. Thank you all for the well wishes and congratulations, I love you guys. See you tomorrow.” Eddie ended the stream, shutting down his equipment and lights, going to the kitchen to clean up whatever was including his dirty plate before heading to his wife who was asleep on the bed with the TV playing Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince. He walked in quietly, shutting off the lamp on her bedside table, leaving the TV on as he climbed into the bed. 

“How long was I asleep?” Y/N asked, her voice muddled with sleep.

“Not long baby, go back to sleep. You’re tired, you and princess need the rest,” Eddie assured her.

“Cuddle with me, I missed you.” Eddie wasn’t complaining, quickly respecting his wife’s wishes and pulling her body as close to his as possible. Her head falling onto his chest, her arm plopped over her abdomen without care. His arms were wrapped around her, one arm around her back and the other over her arm with that hand gently tracing up and down her arm, his other hand resting on the side of her belly where he felt the baby’s little feet pushing on.

“She’s gonna be an mma fighter. She’s always kicking the crap outta you,” Eddie joked as his hand aimlessly traced over her belly and the stretch marks that littered her skin.

“You’re telling me. She kicked my ribs this morning, damn near knocked the wind outta me.” The two shared a sleepy laugh before the room fell into a comfortable silence.

“I love you,” Eddie broke the silence after a couple minutes.

“Love you more, Eds.”

If you had told Eddie from his freshman year that this is where he’d be years in the future, he wouldn’t believe you. His dreams had absolutely come true, he had his dream girl, a career he never expected on top of the one he had planned and a baby on the way. He had slept more soundly than usual, his wife in his arms, feeling his baby kick his hand from where it was resting and the sounds of his wife’s favorite movie from her favorite franchise. He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[theforgottenmcrmy]

Solace (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader)

᯽ Please note that this is an overall part 12 of the series “Growing Strong”. The masterlist, and part 1, can be found HERE . ᯽

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, mentions of previous death of characters, and near tooth-rotting fluff

Summary: Following the tragic fire at Harrenhal, you retreated back to the safety of Highgarden, where you, Harwin, and your family have lived for the past several years. But there are loyalties owed to those outside the walls of your family’s ancestral home, and a letter from an old friend coaxes you all to rejoin the wider realm once more.

A/N: *me, looking at pictures and GIFS for Highgarden inspo for this part*: “I want to go to there”

Welcome to time line of episode 8, everyone. I don’t plan on mentioning this super specifically in the story or anything, but I am tweaking the kids’ ages a bit from the books (and show(?) honestly, the show is harder to track this) before the actual start of the Dance. I pictured Jacaerys/Derrik as being around 16-17 years old, and Lucerys/Selwin around 14-15 years old by this point.

Thank you the support🖤 I hope you enjoy this longer chapter that contains what I would argue a lot of fluffy moments. Hopefully this can start make up for the week break and the angsty chapter that was the last one.🥲 I’m also going to be posting a family tree shortly, which will hopefully clear up any confusion about all these whacky relations.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!🖤

To Lady Y/N Tyrell of Highgarden,

My dearest friend, I hope you have been well since you last wrote. I sense a change in the seasons is upon us once more, and I urge you and the rest of your family to take good care of your health. I fear the accrual of more reasons to dread this time of year… As you know, it is nearing the anniversary of the passing of two individuals who were close to my heart.

My Good Sister, Lady Laena Velaryon, is still sorely missed by all who knew her. Although, I must admit that I am most fortunate to see her vibrant spirit live on in her daughters, the Ladies Baela and Rhaena, whom I have come to view as my own.

And then there is my late Lord Husband, Ser Laenor Velaryon. For all our differences, he was still my husband, and the man whose name my eldest sons bear. He had a good heart, and, at the end of it all, we had a true understanding of one another. I cared for him deeply, and I find myself still mourning the loss of him to this day.

With the memories of their passing beginning to occupy my mind once more, I am constantly reminded of the loss that you and your own Lord Husband endured around this same time of the year. As always, I continue to extend my sympathies to you and your family at this time.

Lord Lyonel Strong was a good man, and perhaps an even better Hand to our King. I am certain my father still feels his absence at Court, despite the speed at which his Lady Wife, Her Grace the Queen, filled the vacant position on the small council.

In remembering each and every one of these losses, I am also reminded of just how long it has been since I have had the pleasure of sharing your company. Make no mistake, writing letters by raven has proven more favorable than years of silence, I assure you. But, and perhaps selfishly so, I often find myself recalling the light that you and your family’s presence provided to me and my own.

I am no stranger to dark times, and I fear neither the old or new gods are yet through with me. If I am presented with an opportunity for happiness, I will happily jump at the chance to secure it. Vipers will be vipers, and whether the words they speak are true or not, they will always speak them through forked tongues. The years have made me far less agreeable to bend to their will.

It has been too long, my friend. I would like to invite you, Lord Harwin, and your children to come visit in Dragonstone. Prince Daemon and I would be happy to host your family for as long as you desire. Our boys are almost men now, but I think they would all greatly benefit from rekindling the friendship from their youth. One day, you and I will be gone from this world, and they will rule in our stead. If the gods are kind, that will be many years from now… But, as a cost of my position, I am aware that I have gained many enemies. I shall be more at ease when the Stranger comes to claim me if I know our sons will never find anything less than faithful allies in one another.

I eagerly await your response, and hope to see you soon.

 Sincerely,

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen

There were few places in the entire world that were able to bring you more comfort than the familiar gardens of your home.

As alluded to by the name, Highgarden boasted many. Different areas of the expansive grounds housed different types of plants, each needing various degrees of care that only the most dedicated and well compensated gardeners held the entire knowledge of. The magnificent castle that was your ancestral home had been built in the center of them all.

The roses live among roses.

When an immediate member of the ruling family passed, it was tradition for a plant or flower that they favored, or which otherwise symbolized them, to be planted in their memory. Your mother, the only daughter of the Lord Meadows of Grassfield Keep, had a particular fondness for daisies. When she passed, your father planted many of those flowers across the gardens, and all by his own two hands. In turn, your father had long since decided that, in true Tyrell fashion, a new golden rose bush should be planted after his passing. You and Derron had seen to it that his wish was carried out. However, gods bless him, Derron had not lived long enough to convey to you what he wished to be planted after his own passing, so you had to make that decision on your own.

Derron’s passing marked a significant change for House Tyrell, and had changed the outcome of your own life forever. After some consideration, you opted with something a bit more imposing than daisies or roses to honor his memory: a birch tree.

The lure of the birch tree was that it was constantly changing in appearance with the seasons. You loved watching the visual transformations every few months. The gardeners had complimented your choice, noting that the birch tree was believed to symbolize new beginnings and growth. It had been fitting. Perfect, even. It grew at a decent rate as well- after approaching nearly two decades after Derron’s passing, the tree absolutely towered above you, and had come a long way from the tiny sapling you had once planted.

Derron’s tree was planted among others in a certain section of the gardens you had always tended to favor. The shade provided by it and surrounding trees was a welcome escape from the warm sun, particularly in the summer months. And, as the location was tucked away from the main garden path, it also allowed you ample privacy. You loved your home and those who resided within it with all of your heart, but you also had come to appreciate whatever small moments of peace that you were able to find for yourself. Doing so did wonders to clear your mind.

And it was clarity that you desired above all else at that moment as you idly ran your thumb across the letter that you’d received. Correspondence from Princess Rhaenyra was not an uncommon occurrence by any means; you wrote to another frequently. But the contents of this particular letter, which had been delivered by raven that same morning, had your mind bogged down with many thoughts.

There was excitement at the prospect of reuniting with your old friend after so many years. There was elation at the thought of the joy it would bring to your sons to see the Princes Jacaerys and Lucerys once again. But there was also concern… Worry about the potential threats to the solace you and Harwin had worked so painstakingly hard to craft for your family in Highgarden following the horrific tragedy that was the fire at Harrenhal.

You sighed tiredly, and leaned your head against the back of the tree.

…

The sound light giggles drifting over from the main garden path yanked you from your contemplation. But you recognized the sound immediately, and happily welcomed the interruption.

You rose to your feet, pocketed the parchment into your skirts, and made your way out into the open with a noticeable spring in your step.

Standing on the main cobblestone path was a young girl, still a tiny bit of a thing, clutching the hand of her nanny. When she saw you, her comfortingly familiar eyes lit up, and she reached out her small hands in your direction.

“Mama!”

“Mother,” Nanny Bryna corrected her, though you could tell she restrained herself from using the full extent of her sternness.

You beamed, and swiftly pulled your daughter up into your arms. The young girl threw her own arms around your neck in a near vice-like grip as she settled in your hold, but you didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Forgive me, My Lady,” Bryna apologized sincerely. “We did not mean to interrupt you. Lady Luciya was a bit finicky this morning, and I thought a small walk through the gardens might soothe her.”

You looked to Luciya expectantly, awaiting her response to her nanny’s words. The girl was young, with only her third name day occurring in a few months time. But despite her youth, Luciya was already as quick as a whip, and you had no doubt she knew exactly what it was that Bryna was referring to.

However, all your daughter could give you was an entirely pitiful look.

… As if such a sweet face could possibly be “finicky”.

You laughed at Lucyia’s front of innocence briefly, before turning your attention back to her nanny. “There is nothing to forgive, Bryna. I will take her for now.”

Bryna nodded, before giving you a small curtsy.

As her nanny walked away, you turned your attention to your daughter once more, and lightly tapped her on the nose with a single finger. “Now, Sweetling, what is all this business about you being unpleasant this morning?”

Luciya gave you a sheepish smile, before turning and hiding her face in your hair.

With Harwin’s curls, your eyes, and a combination of the pair of your remaining facial features, Luciya was the perfect balance of you and your husband. She reminded you each so very much of the mothers that you and Harwin had both lost at a young age. Luciya was small, but lively. She was quick to learn, just like Derrik had been; Bryna had already begun to work with her on reading and writing. And her sweetness rivaled Selwin’s at that age; though she was not immune to foul moods, her disposition was almost always more pleasant than not.

Luciya had been… unexpected, in a sense. After all, more than a decade after Selwin’s first name day had passed by the time she was born. But she had been no less welcomed for it. It was immediately clear that the young girl was the perfect final addition to your small family. Luciya had stolen the hearts of everyone she met, yours and Harwin’s included chief among them. Even your eldest children were taken with her; Derrik enjoyed reading to her whenever his studies and training allowed it, and Selwin had been taking her on short horseback rides around the castle grounds before she was even able to walk.

You ran a light hand over her curls absentmindedly for a moment, when all of the sudden, a brilliant idea struck you. You leaned in close, and gave her a conspiring smile. “Shall we see what your father and brothers are up to?”

Luciya withdrew her face from your hair, and with a bright smile of her own, nodded enthusiastically.

Given the hour, and the fact that it was such fair weather, there was only one place Harwin and your sons were likely to be. The clanging of clashing steel confirmed your suspicions the closer you drew to the training yard.

The yard was filled with various men, almost all donned in training armor or yielding blunted weapons of some sort. A large portion of them were gathered in the middle, watching with intrigue as two individuals who you couldn’t see just yet sparred with one another.

Much closer to you and Luciya, you spotted Derrik.

If Derrik looked like Harwin as a boy, it was even more apparent now that he was a young man. His curls had become less wild with age, but they were still present. He was broad shouldered, and though he was still young, you knew he could make a formidable opponent, if he ever needed to be. He was well trained with a sword, as Harwin and Highgarden’s master at arms had seen to that. When Derrik was not training with weaponry, Derrik and his tutors had exercised his mind with just as much fervor. He studied a great many subjects- history, philosophy, languages- and he enjoyed them all.

In another life, perhaps Derrik might have sought to become a maester. In your opinion, he had demonstrated the patience, wit, and motivation that would suggest success in such an endeavor. His grandsire, Lord Lyonel, had once chosen that path. As Harwin once told you, your Good Father had managed to forge six links on his chain before the death of his older brother forced him to abandon the pursuit for the sake of the Strong family. Similarly, as Derrik stood to inherit a great holding of his own one day, that fate of a maester was not his to claim.

Derrik was perfectly well rounded, as a wise young lord ought to be, and, though he was occasionally stubborn, he was wise beyond his years. You and Harwin couldn’t have been any prouder of him.

Your eldest son was tight lipped as he nocked an arrow and pulled back the string of a bow. Ser Corbus Crane, Highgarden’s master at arms, watched him diligently.

The arrow soared through the air and struck the target…. But a fair way down from the center. In fact, it was nothing short of a miracle the arrow had managed to strike the target at all.

With Harwin and Ser Corbus’ oversight, Derrik had become a decent swordsman for his age. But as of late, Derrik had developed a more serious interest in cultivating skill with a bow as well. This pleased you; not only had you been taught to shoot from a young age, but your father and brother had been as well. Seeing your eldest son take an interest in upholding the Tyrell family tradition gave you joy.

“Straighten your bow arm,” you instructed him, giving Derrik a small start as he had yet to realize your presence. “And hold firm. You are losing some of the tension halfway through your draw.”

“I advised him of the same, My Lady,” Ser Corbus chimed in.

You gave the man an apologetic look.

Derrik gave you an understanding nod. With a small sigh, he nocked a second arrow and drew back the string. This time, he adhered to the advice of both you and his tutor.

The arrow struck the target just shy of the center. Luciya clapped enthusiastically, causing her older brother to shoot her a grin.

“Perhaps you should listen to the advice of Ser Corbus more often,” you suggested purposefully to Derrik, though you were unable to completely conceal the pleased smile on your lips.

Derrik bowed his head in mild embarrassment. “Yes, Mother. My apologies, Ser Corbus.”

“There is nothing to forgive, My Lord. But, My Lady- I think the young lord could benefit from some additional motivation,” Ser Corbus proposed, looking at you knowingly. “Mayhaps you join us sometime, My Lady? Shooting round for round with Lord Derrik here may do wonders to encourage the lad to sharpen his aim.”

Embarrassment fled Derrik’s face, and instead, he looked downright amused at the proposal. In truth, the idea appealed to you as well.

“I suppose I can spare some time in the name of improving my son’s learning, though it may be a few days before I am able to accommodate that request,” you agreed heartily. You glanced about the training yard, before turning to Derrik and inquiring, “Where are your father and brother?”

“Yield! I yield!”

Your attention was drawn back to the middle of the training yard as the exasperated exclamation rang out. The men who had gathered there muttered amongst themselves, while several others clapped at the display. Eventually, they dispersed one by one, revealing none other than Harwin and Selwin as those who had been sparring in the middle of them all.

Selwin was on his knees, his training sword having been knocked aside. Harwin tossed down his own blunted sword to the dirt before extending his youngest son a helping hand.

Once Selwin was on his feet, Harwin patted him on the back reassuringly. “You held your own for longer than I thought you would, lad.”

Selwin allowed a small smile to slip at his father’s praise, though he looked a bit hesitant to immediately accept it. “Truly?”

Selwin looked every bit like the men of House Tyrell, save Harwin’s hazel eyes. He was tall, just as tall as Derrik actually, and lithe. Despite lacking the same broadness as his father and older brother, Selwin was still dangerous with a sword in his own right, and even at his young age. He had never come to share the same love of learning as Derrik, not by any means. That was a bit unfortunate… You and Harwin would have loved for your son to squire with another lord or knight of high regard, but as Selwin was to inherit either Harrenhal or Highgarden one day, such a luxury could not be afforded. Thankfully, Selwin was understanding of this, and he had continued with his lessons dutifully, despite his lack of enthusiasm for them. However, true light only ever seemed to shine in Selwin’s eyes when training in the yard, riding throughout the grounds on horseback, or exploring along the riverbanks of the Mander.

Selwin was charming too, at festivals and parties alike. He could make conversation just as easily with those many years his senior as he could with the youngest of children. His sweetness from his childhood had carried over to his teenage years, something you were grateful for, and he seldom had an unkind word to offer to or about anyone… unless someone ignited that infamous temper he had inherited from Harwin, that was. 

Though he still got along with his older brother, Selwin was not very much like Derrik at all. But you and Harwin were still just as proud of him too.

“Now, Dearest, is it wise to ‘rough up’ our youngest son in such a manner?” you called over to them teasingly.

At the sound of your voice, both Harwin and Selwin looked over as you approached them. The pure love and warmth in Harwin’s eyes as they fell on you never failed to make your heart skip a beat, even after all these years.

“I am afraid you are mistaken, My Love,” Harwin disclaimed politely, taking a step towards you to meet you half-way. “It was our son who was giving me the go of it… for a little while there, at least.”

You pursed your lips and fought off the urge to continue the playful bickering. Upon seeing her father, Luciya reached out to Harwin with grabbing hands. He smiled and immediately lifted her from your arms. You let him do so willingly.

“Selwin, we should be on our way soon,” Derrik called over from across the yard as he handed his bow over to Ser Corbus. “Maester Thomos will be cross with us if we are late for our accounting lessons again.”

“Now, we wouldn’t want that,” you commented, looking back at Selwin.

Your youngest son looked about as excited at the idea of an hour of accounting lessons as you would have expected him to be. However, you all knew that if Selwin was to be a lord with a keep of his own one day, an understanding of finances could only be beneficial.

You tilted your head along encouragingly to him. “Go on, now.”

Selwin still looked less than thrilled, but with a nod to you and Harwin, set out across the courtyard to join his elder brother. You watched the pair of them meet up and head out of the training yard altogether before you finally turned back to Harwin.

“Now, Sweet Girl,” Harwin said, readjusting his hold on Luciya and lifting her so that their matching eyes were level. “Not that I am upset by it, but what might you and your mother be doing out here?”

“As I believe Bryna put it, our daughter was acting ‘finicky’ this morning,” you relayed, taking a step closer to them. You ran a light hand over Luciya’s back soothingly.

Harwin frowned at you, feigning shock. He demanded, “Who? This Sweet Girl?”

Luciya smiled at him; the sight was a perfect mirror of Harwin’s own.

Harwin declared firmly, “Another mistake must have been made, Lady Wife. For it could not have been this little lass.” While Luciya was mesmerized by her father’s animated speech, she had failed to notice his spare hand mischievously reaching up. She was sent into a brief fit of giggles as Harwin’s fingers danced across her ribs. “Our daughter is not even capable of being anything less than content, I can assure you.”

You hummed in slight protest, but played along anyway. “But of course not, my Lord Husband. Our daughter is perfectly well behaved, always.”

“Good,” Harwin huffed half-seriously, dropping his hand and allowing Luciya a moment to catch her breath. Then, he placed a quick kiss on her cheek, earning yet another giggle from her. “I am glad we are of the same mind on this matter, My Lady.”

You rolled your eyes good naturedly.

Harwin made a show of surveying the training yard, before looking back at your daughter. “Now that your brothers are gone,” he began, speaking so softly that only you and Luciya were likely to hear him, “Shall we venture down to the kitchens? I heard they brought in several baskets of fresh fireplums this morning…”

Luciya’s eyes lit up at the mere mention of her favorite sweet.

“Harwin!” you scolded him half-heartedly. “‘Tis not yet midday. That would hardly be appropriate.”

“Fireplums?” Lucyia echoed, glancing between you and Harwin with a questioning look and a small, but undeniable, pout forming on her lips.

“It would be a shame to break her heart, My Love,” Harwin acknowledged pointedly, giving you a similar pouting look. You wanted to curse; your husband knew exactly what he was doing.

You tried to hold steadfast, you really did, but between the pleading look from your daughter and Harwin, the battle was a lost cause. Sighing defeatedly, you agreed, “Let us go find some fireplums, Sweetling.”

Luciya clapped gleefully. Smirking victoriously, Harwin put his free hand on the small of your back to guide you as the three of you left the training yard in search of a tasty late morning snack.

After a particularly tasty and fulfilling dinner, the soft crackling of the fire was nearly enough to lull Harwin to sleep.

Still, he trudged on.

As Harwin sat at his designated desk in your joint study, his hands began to ache with each letter penned upon the parchment before him, and his fingers began to tremble on the quill in his grip from sheer fatigue. Seeking a quick distraction, his eyes rose and flitted across the room, over towards the fireplace.

It took you and Harwin a significant amount of time to be comfortable with the ideas of open fires following the fire at Harrenhal years ago. Even now, neither you nor Harwin were comfortable with fires being fueled or stroked any further than what was necessary to keep the flames alive. But the season was beginning to change once more; the pleasant heat of the day had begun to give way to the chilly air at night, which left neither of you with much of a choice in the matter.

Fire was a necessary evil, Harwin thought to himself bitterly.

The firefly pin still rested on the upper left corner of his desk, where it had sat for the last several years.

You had presented it to him the morning after the fire at Harrenhal. A suspicious man, who had been apprehended sometime in the night, and dead by his own hand come the morning, had had it pinned to his cloak. You had sworn to the gods that the firefly pin looked familiar, and Harwin was inclined to agree. He had seen something extremely similar to it as well… somewhere. Harwin knew that to be as true as he knew his own name. But, for the life of him, Harwin couldn’t place where he had seen it before.

It was extremely suspicious, and Harwin was left with more questions than answers.

How had the fire started? Was it truly an accident, or was there a darker reason behind it? There were only so many things one could attribute to being a part of some dreaded curse… But if the fire had been intentional, who would have had the motive to orchestrate such a terrible act?

Lord Lyonel was a man who did not have a single enemy, at least not any that Harwin knew of. His father was a good natured, if plainly honest, man. And while you and Harwin had inadvertently made yourselves targets within the Red Keep due to your relations with Princess Rhaenyra, Harwin doubted that the reach of the vipers within would be able extend to that of his home, Harrenhal. And he doubted even more the capability of a mother, though a Queen she may be, to knowingly conspire to murder your children.

For a time, the unwavering need Harwin felt to deliver justice on behalf of his father had all but consumed him. A man driven nearly mad, he ceaselessly sought explanation to questions that may never be answered, due to the sheer nature of the event. He had questioned countless people, and had probably dolled out a few too many undeserved threats.

His sisters were quick to dismiss the entire thing as an unfortunate, though coincidental tragedy. Even Larys, through the letters by raven, suggested it was an accident. With the various new construction projects, as well as the simple fact that Harrenhal had burned once before, he argued it was not too difficult to imagine that someone mishandling a torch, or some fallen spark from a bedroom flame, could have quickly set the tower ablaze.

Harwin had even asked your opinion on the matter. He could tell you had been reluctant to say anything that might encourage his incessant inquisition, but still, you conceded that, despite the many reasons one could argue the fire truly was an accident, you were more hesitant than his siblings to declare it as such.

It was only the love he bore for you and your sons that had pulled Harwin back from the brink of instability. And Harwin did not care to know the version of himself he’d been during the weeks following the passing of his father ever again.

Finally tearing his eyes away, Harwin looked over to the side of the room next, and immediately noticed that you too had taken a break from your own writing to stare into the flickering flames. As you sat at your own desk, which was positioned adjacent to his own, Harwin watched you contentedly, and he bit the inside of his cheek to contain his smile.

You looked just as tired as he felt, but there was an overwhelming warmth that flooded his heart every time he laid eyes upon you, no matter what state you were in. The feeling had not given way to time, despite over fifteen years of marriage. Harwin hoped it never would.

But, as if you felt his eyes on you, you suddenly regained focus, and slowly swiveled your head to glance over at him. Unrelenting, Harwin offered you a small, coy smile. He was not embarrassed to have been caught staring at you, not at all. Why be embarrassed that he was married to the most gorgeous, intelligent, brave, and enchanting woman in the whole realm? Rather, Harwin couldn’t help but feel humbled, and, truthfully, a little bit satisfied with himself that you had attempted to steal a glance at him.

You returned his smile easily, the gesture looking completely love-stricken. Harwin did not know if it was even possible for the love you felt for him to run deeper than the love he felt for you, but he did not doubt your intentions, nor your willingness to try.

After a moment, your focus returned to your own letter that you were in the midst of writing.

Not a day went by that Harwin didn’t find himself thanking the gods for your shining presence in his life. As far as he was concerned, every moment spent with you was time well spent. However, quiet evenings like this had come to be some of Harwin’s favorite opportunities, and he looked forward to and relished every moment he could.

Thankfully, most evenings seemed to progress the same as of late. After dinner, it was typical that Derrik and Selwin would excuse themselves to partake in whatever hobbies pleased them before retiring for the evening, whilst Nanny Bryna would offer to put Luciya to bed. It created a perfect opportunity for the two of you to relax and unwind from the day together, and catch up on any correspondence or other business that needed tending to.

It was no secret, nor did Harwin try to disguise it as such, that hours of writing business correspondence, drafting agreements, and maintaining general communication with his steward in Harrenhal, Lord Dannis of House Chambers, was one of Harwin’s least favorite aspects about having inherited his family lordship. In fact, it was probably the second worst aspect about the whole inheritance, with the first having been the loss of his father.

Harwin supposed he could have let Lord Dannis carry out his duties for him... Dannis, the uncle of the current Lord of House Chambers, Everan, was experienced, and had served Lord Lyonel faithfully for many years. But Harwin could not bring himself to sully the memory of his father by letting the knowledge he had been able to impart on him before his ultimately passing go to waste. And, given that Harwin and your family had not had even a semi-permanent residence at Harrenhal since that dreadful fire, maintaining his lordship through communication with Lord Dannis was his only option. The memory of the fire was still so haunting for each of you… no one was likely to return to Harrenhal for some time yet.

…

All personal qualms about the tedious writing aside, Harwin would never vocalize discontent with spending your evenings in the shared study. You would have confined yourself to the room for several hours anyways, as was what you deemed necessary to keep up with your own family duties… But it was clear to each of you that the evenings were far more tolerable when you shared them with each other.

Harwin’s eyes continued to linger over you as a look of concentration crept over your face. The feather of the quill in your hand flickered with your sharp and precise movements. He felt his chest warm with pride. For someone who had not been raised to inherit Highgarden, or taught how to properly manage the responsibilities that came along with such a claim, you certainly did not show it. You had taken nearly every letter, audience, charitable work, and all other duties in stride. Harwin was almost, almost, envious of how natural it all came to you… But he always felt more pride than anything else.

… And, Harwin had to admit that seeing you, his beloved wife, hold such a commanding position of power was very entrancing.

Harwin was pulled from his thoughts by the sounds of rustling fabric coming from the sofa on the other side of the room. His eyes followed his ears, and the smile on his face shifted from one of flirtatious amusement to one of great fondness.

Of course, there were some nights when you and Harwin were not truly alone in your study.

Luciya was snuggled into the plush cushions of the sofa quite happily, her curls splayed about the pillow beneath her head without care. As soft snores slipped from her mouth, it was evident that she was blissfully unaware of anything else going on in the room. As far as you and Harwin were concerned, you were content to keep it that way. The gods had gifted you both with Derrik and Selwin, who brought honor upon your houses in their own ways. But Harwin was inclined to believe that the pair of you had been truly blessed with the addition of your daughter.

Abrupt, though gentle, knocks sounded on the door.

You bid the individual on the other side to enter in a soft tone, so as to not disturb Luciya.

The door opened slowly, and in strolled Lord Elwood Meadows.

The brother of your late mother had served your father and brother dutifully as Steward of Highgarden. Whilst serving you, his performance had been no less exemplary. In fact, the more the Lord Elwood aged, the more dedicated he became to his duties as Steward. Lord Elwood was practically the Lord of House Meadows in name only; his eldest son, and your cousin, Lord Theo, had been ruling over the family seat of Grassfield Keep in his father’s absence for quite some time.

As Lord Elwood came to a stop, his attention naturally shot over towards the sofa first. He visibly fought the urge to smile upon the sight of his sleeping grand niece. Then, he looked between the pair of you with purpose. “It would seem as though Lady Luciya has exhausted herself for the day… Mayhaps it has something to do with the fireplums that have reportedly disappeared from the kitchens?”

You and Harwin gleaned at each other knowingly at your uncle’s suggestion. Amusement was written over both of your faces.

Then, Lord Elwood offered, “Shall I call for Bryna, My Lady?”

“Thank you, Uncle, but that will not be necessary,” you assured him, resting your quill in the nearby ink pot. “We are to retire soon.”

“Very well, My Lady… Well, my apologies for the lateness of the hour, but Maester Thomos informed me that two ravens have arrived since dinner. And, since you have yet to retire, I thought you might care to receive the messages.”

“You thought correctly, Uncle. Thank you for bringing them to us at once.”

Lord Elwood crossed the room and deposited the small scrolls in your hand. With one more charmed glance at Luciya, he nodded to the both of you staunchly and exited the study. The door shut softly behind him.

Harwin watched you with interest as you glanced at the seals of each of the scrolls in your hand. You rose from your seat and strolled over to him, handing him one of the scrolls wordlessly.

The seal on the scroll was one Harwin recognized well.

Malvales.

The sigil that Harwin’s brother, Larys, had taken for his own since having been appointed as Master of Whisperers was an easily identifiable one. Harwin broke the seal without a thought and opened the scroll, reading the words upon the parchment promptly.

As Harwin read line by line, you gently sat on his lap. Undeterred by your actions, Harwin’s focus continued to be on the letter in his hand, but his spare arm came up to wrap around your waist, steadying and holding you close. You made yourself comfortable, and then broke open the seal of the second letter to begin reading as well. For a few quiet moments, nothing but the crackling fire and the snores from Luciya could be heard in the room.

But then, you sighed.

Harwin had just finished reading. He looked up at you worriedly, noting the seal still clinging to the one edge of the parchment. It was another one that he also recognized well.

Grapes.

There were very few individuals who used that seal that would have written to you with kind intentions.

He inquired, “From the Arbor?... Is all well?”

You nodded in response to his query, though your eyes never drifted from the letter in your hand. “Yes, it is only from my aunt… She has written to inform me that her granddaughter, Celesse, is traveling to King’s Landing. It seems that she, along with her cousin, Joanna Lannister, are to be taken in by the royal household as ladies in waiting for Princess Helaena.”

Harwin watched you carefully for a moment, waiting to see if you would say anything further that would indicate your opinion of the news. When you said nothing, he noted offhandedly in a light tone, “Dangerous place, is it not? For two unescorted ladies to roam about, all while serving a princess of the realm?”

Harwin’s teasing to what was once your own circumstance did not go over your head, and you looked at him with mock offense. “It is truly a preposterous notion, isn’t it? Young ladies and a Princess, eating, singing, dancing, and otherwise passing the time until they catch the attention of a suitor? The horror.”

“There are some strange men among the Red Keep, My Lady.”

You hummed. “I’ve met a few of them… In fact, there was this one-” 

Harwin rolled his eyes and mumbled under his breath, “Oh no-”

“I heard that he could pull a fully occupied carriage all by himself,” you recounted dramatically. “I also heard that he once single-handedly closed the courtyard doors of the Red Keep when the chains had broken-”

“Now those are truly ‘preposterous’ notions, My Love. Complete fabrications of-”

“And, do you know what they called him? This infamous man?”

Harwin pursed his lips. You merely smiled at him, clearly amused by your own theatrics.

“... Breakbones?”

“No,” You scoffed, and reached for him, lightly cupping the side of his face closest to you. Softly, you corrected, “They called him my husband.”

Harwin bit the inside of his cheek once more. Even as a young man, when pretty women of all sorts started to pay him mind, he had never, ever considered himself one who was capable of blushing. Or one to be unnerved by the presence and words of any woman.

But you were not just any woman. You held his heart, confidence, and happiness all in the palms of your hands.

You placed a brief, though undeniably sweet, kiss upon his lips. When you withdrew from him a few seconds later, Harwin immediately found himself wishing you had not.

“But do not fret, Dearest,” you assured him, swiftly returning to the original topic as you lowered your hand from his face. “If Lady Celesse is even half as conniving as her father, I am sure she will fare in the capital just fine.”

Your cousin, Garrett Redwyne, once a second son, was now Lord of the Arbor. A few years past, the Stranger visited your family again. In one swoop, fever had claimed your uncle by marriage, Lord Gilbar, and your other cousin, Jeran, Garrett’s older brother. Jeran, foolishly, had never married, nor sired any legitimate heirs of his own by the time of his death. Unfortunately, that meant that the family seat passed on to his younger brother.

Harwin knew that the turn of events did not sit right with you. And frankly, things did not sit well with him either. It did not seem fair for someone who had so cruelly tried to prey upon a young woman in grief and steal her family’s birthright to then be rewarded with a title and holding of his own. Like you, Garrett had not been born to inherit the family lordship… But the gods had deemed it so, just the same.

And yet… Harwin dared to venture that there was another matter about your cousin that upset you even more. Not even a year after your brother’s passing, Garrett had taken a woman to wife- one Cerelle Lannister. Harwin could tell from the short time you had spent with the young woman in King’s Landing, you had enjoyed her presence. At the time of Derron’s death, his betrothal to Lady Cerelle had been imminent.

Not only did Lord Garrett become Lord of the Arbor, but he had also wed the woman who, in another life, might have been your Good Sister.

“What does your brother say?” you asked him then, discarding your scroll upon his desk.

“The usual,” Harwin answered at once, happy to see you had opted not to dwell on the thought of your cousin. “He has inquired about the state of the family, and as to how the children are.”

“That is kind of him,” you acknowledged sincerely. “I would suggest you write back to him and extend an invitation for him to visit and see the children for himself… But I believe we both know what his response would be.”

A regretful declination.

Not but a week after the fire at Harrenhal, Larys had been appointed to King Viserys’ small council as Master of Whisperers. It was an honorable appointment, but the position occupied so much of Larys’ time that, while Harwin, you, your sons, Lilyan, Eyla, and their families gathered at Harrenhal to lay Lord Lyonel to rest, Larys had been bound to King’s Landing by his duties… At least, that was the reason he cited in a letter to Harwin. Harwin suspected Larys’ failure to attend might have also had something to do with his brother’s feelings about the passing of their father. Different sorts of people grieved in different ways, and Larys had always been a bit of an outlier. But Harwin loved his brother, and did not beseech him for his decision. Even if his absence was greatly felt at the funeral.

“My brother’s duties keep him confined to the Red Keep, My Love,” Harwin reminded you. His arm around your waist tightened, holding you closer to him. Harwin pressed a light, nearly teasing kiss on the back of your neck. He smirked to himself as you shook off a small shiver in response. “Just as our duties keep us bound to Highgarden.”

At this, you stiffened in Harwin’s hold. “That reminds me,” you began, rising from his lap, though not without Harwin making a half-hearted attempt to keep you restrained as you were. “There is something else I wished to speak with you about.”

At the seriousness of your tone, the playful smirk fell from Harwin’s lips. “What is it?”

You hesitated. “These were not the only ravens we received today… There was a third. I received the letter this morning.”

Harwin picked up on your hesitation immediately. He coaxed encouragingly, “Whatever the burden is, share it with me. Who sent it?”

You said nothing, and instead reached into the pocket of your skirt. The third scroll was withdrawn from the fabric with a natural flourish. Harwin took it from your extended hand curiously, and opened it at once.

As he began to read the letter- one that he quickly realized was from Princess Rhaenyra, no less- he glanced over at you out of the corner of his eyes on the occasion. As he devoured line by line, you began to pace nearby.

Once Harwin was done reading, he understood why you appeared so visibly nervous.

“Well?”

Harwin contemplated his next words with significant caution. “‘Tis an… interesting offer, I suppose. What do you make of it?”

“It would not be King’s Landing, but it would be close.”

Dragonstone was a lot closer to the capital than Highgarden was. Too close for Harwin’s liking. 

“We left King’s Landing for a reason, My Love,” he reminded you patiently. “The gossip, the rumors? Our- my- presence threatened Princess Rhaenyra’s credibility, and it put all of us in danger.”

“I recall all of that, as you know.”

You spoke the truth, Harwin had no doubt of that. But the thought of what might have happened to you, or your children, had your family stayed in the capital, still troubled him deeply. His father had alluded to you, Derrick, and Selwin being taken away by the headsman. Harwin would rather fall upon his own sword than risk that nightmare becoming a reality.

“I cannot put you, or the children, in danger,” Harwin told you firmly. “I would never dream of commanding you, or declaring what you may or may not do. But I must protest at the idea of endangering you all for the mere sake of a social visit.”

“I know, Dearest,” you promised, your tone lightening at the growing traces of distress you detected within his words. “I know you would not have us put ourselves in danger. And I would not have you put yourself in danger, either… Neither would Princess Rhaenyra.”

Harwin got the funny sense that you were not finished with your thoughts. “... But?”

“But,” you continued, confirming his suspicions, “if the Princess knows of the… delicacy, of our situation, it makes me question why she has extended the invitation at this particular time. After all, though we frequently exchanged letters, it has been years since we have all seen one another.”

None of you had seen the Princess, or her sons, since you fled King’s Landing prior to your return to Harrenhal. And Harwin had to admit, the timing of the invitation was a bit peculiar. Why now?

“I have my suspicions as to why Princess Rhaenyra decided that now is an appropriate time,” you confessed then. “I still have some connections to those who frequent the Red Keep. The rumors report that the King is weak, Harwin. Very weak. They say he could pass any day now… And I suspect Princess Rhaenyra has heard the same.”

…

Damn.

Harwin could think of many, many reasons as to why accepting Princess Rhaenyra’s invitation would not be wise. Reasons that he was certain you could easily deduce as well. However, he would have had to be cruel to outright reject the offer, when he knew that accepting it may mean bringing some comfort to an old friend. You still considered Princess Rhaenyra as your oldest and most trusted companion. Besides the fact that she was to be Queen one day, Harwin held her in very high regard as well, and was also fortunate enough to call her a friend. Gods, years ago, he had loved Princess Rhaenyra’s sons as though they were his own… And perhaps part of him still did.

Both you and Harwin had lost your own fathers, whom you loved greatly. How could Harwin make any serious arguments for declining Princess Rhaenyra’s invitation, when accepting it would allow the both of you to offer her comfort in this trying time?

…

But King Viserys, gods be good, was not gone from this world yet. And the Hightowers still had sizable control over the Red Keep and its inhabitants. The thought of being so near King’s Landing still made Harwin wary.

And the thought of leaving Highgarden at all made him greatly uneasy.

As if you could read Harwin’s rapidly racing thoughts, you ran a light hand through his curls. Despite his worry, Harwin leaned into the familiar and comforting touch.

“I understand your fears, Dearest,” you assured him softly, but sincerely. “And I share them as well. But we cannot stay here for the rest of our days. Highgarden may be a refuge, yes… But it was never meant to be a place of solitude. There is an entire realm outside of these walls, and many others whom we have loyalties to.”

Harwin, who had closed his eyes at your gentle ministrations, opened them once more. There was no need for him to verbally admit your assumption was correct. You had seen right through him, as you almost always did.

Since the fire at Harrenhal, the pair of you had created a peaceful life for yourselves in Highgarden. Within the castle walls, you, Harwin, Derrik, Selwin, and now Luciya, were safe. For years, it had seemed as though no evil could touch you here.

Highgarden was a solace.

… And while Harwin wanted so desperately to keep that solace, and protect you all, he was not a fool. He knew that such a blissful dream, no matter how wonderful it was, could not be sustained indefinitely. You were right- the two of you owed allegiance to others who did not reside in your ancestral home. Besides King Viserys, the most important of these allegiances was the one to Princess Rhaenyra.

Harwin sighed, and rose to his feet. He felt your eyes on him with every step as he walked across the room and over towards the sofa. When he reached it, he leaned down, gently took Luciya into his arms, and sat upon the cushions where she had been snoozing away a moment before. Not deterred in the slightest, Luciya continued to sleep while she subconsciously shifted around to make herself comfortable in her father’s arms.

You were quick to follow, and took a seat beside him. You tucked yourself into his side calmly. When you were settled, Harwin tilted his head to rest upon yours.

For a few moments, the two of you silently watched your daughter, with Luciya resting her head on Harwin’s one shoulder, and you resting your head on the other.

He remembered how scared he was when Luciya was born. With Derrik and Selwin, he’d been nervous with the idea of parenthood… But they were his sons. Harwin had been able to take some comfort in the knowledge that he could raise them with a similar loving upbringing that he had experienced as a child. Studying with maesters, training in the yard with the master at arms… He had an understanding of what Derrik and Selwin would face.

But a daughter? That was a completely different and uncharted territory. Harwin had sisters, and nieces now as well, but nothing compared to this. Harwin had not been prepared to have his heart shared by two women, but that is what had come to transpire. Thankfully, Luicya had been merciful to him in this regard- she had only ever asked for attention, and love. Things Harwin was more than willing to give her, and in plentiful amounts at that.

Harwin wanted to give your daughter the world.

… Which, in a queer way, may have meant that she ought to actually see some of it.

A hazy vision of Luciya on a sandy shore flashed across his mind. The sound of her laughter ringing out amongst the crowing of seagulls rang faintly in his ears.

Harwin pressed a kiss to the top of Luciya’s head. “... She will enjoy the sea, I think.”

You lifted your head off his shoulder slowly, and looked at him with wide and slightly watery eyes as you realized the deeper implication behind his simple words.

To Dragonstone.

After a swift kiss to Harwin’s cheek, you placed your hand on Luciya’s back, your fingers brushed against Harwin’s as you did so. “She will. And Derrik and Selwin will enjoy seeing the Princes again.”

“The Princes,” Harwin echoed blankly. “Gods, it has been so long… They must be nearly men by now.”

You smirked. “As are our sons, Harwin.”

Would Jacaerys and Lucerys even recall him? Harwin hoped so. Despite the passage of time, he still harbored a fondness for them. And he would have been lying if he denied worrying about them over the years. Despite his faults, losing Ser Laenor in such a tragic way, only to have the role of a father filled promptly- almost too promptly- by the likes of Prince Daemon Targaryen?

That would have been a rotten lot for anyone, let alone young boys whose fates were already precariously hanging on with little more than the unyielding love from their royal grandsire.

… But the more Harwin thought about that, the more quickly he was coming around to the idea of visiting Dragonstone. Having spent a decent amount of time in one another’s presence during their time serving the City Watch, Harwin had seen sides of the Rogue Prince he could only hope that the young Princes Jacaerys and Lucerys had not yet heard of. While Harwin may have had his own opinions about how he approached fatherhood, he would never deny that Ser Laenor Velaryon was an honorable man, even if it was in his own way. On the other hand, Harwin was not sure Prince Daemon even knew the meaning of the word.

The idea of the young Princes following after the likes of their now stepfather bothered Harwin. They were older now, and though not yet fully grown men, they were indisputably no longer children… But perhaps it was not so late that Harwin could offer himself as an alternative fatherly figure?

If the Princes even still wanted to view him as such, that was.

But, once again, you soothed his worries with your calming words.

“I am certain that the Princes will be pleased to see you too, Dearest.”

Luciya yawned in her sleep, breaking the tension of your conversation. A light laugh escaped both of you.

Then, Harwin reaffirmed, “If the Princess requests our family’s presence on Dragonstone, she shall have it.”

There was a strange feeling in the air… a sense that the lives of your family were about to change in a dramatic fashion.

If only the two of you had known then just how drastic the changes were going to be.

“I will write back to Princess Rhaenyra with our answer,” you informed Harwin. “But I daresay that can wait ‘til the morrow.”

Harwin rose to his feet, and you followed suit. However, he must not have done as well of a job concealing any lingering concern as he had hoped to. As he took a step towards the door to leave, you reached out, and placed a hand on his arm, halting him.

“Everything will be alright, Dearest.”

Harwin gave you a small smile, feeling peculiarly bittersweet. “I know, My Love. Highgarden has been a refuge… But I know I will find solace wherever I am, so long as I am with you.”

A/N: Poor, naive Harwin. Bless him.🖤 He just wants to see the good in his brother, y’all. I’m sure that definitely won’t come back to bite him in the future or anything-

Thank you for reading!🖤 Next part will probably be at least a 2 parter again, but it may even be a 3 parter, depending on how long it ends up being and what plot points I choose to include in it.

But before then, I’m going to try and see if I can put together a couple little headcanons/blurbs later this week, so if that’s something you’re interested in, keep an eye out for those😊 I definitely want to take a crack at more headcanons of Harwin with the kiddos, but also running the Reach and just general married life with Harwin, so we’ll see what happens.

[scarletwinterxx]

that time you made him a sweater - chenle oneshot

hello! i'm back😊 before this year ends hopefully i can put a couple more stories out, for this holiday season i already have a few in line. this would be the first one of my mini dream fluff series, idk i just miss them nowadays and a bunch of cute scenarios keep popping in my head😂 hope you like it!

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2022 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to owner)

"Absolutely not"

"Even for me?"

On any other occasion, Chenle would've easily succumbed to his girlfriend's cuteness. Not today though, he's had enough embarrassing moments in the airport to last him several lifetimes (e.g. when the dream members dressed up in matching neon green outfits). So just this once he's trying his best not to yet again fold under your request

"Baby, do you want me to perish?" he asks back

"You're being dramatic, and this isn't even that embarrassing. Do you think it is? I made it myself" well now he feels like an a-grade asshole, you were so excited to come over and show him your finished project.

While he was gone overseas you can't stop talking about this gift you made for him, a knitted sweater. It's a thing you do whenever he goes oversea and can't be with you, to distract yourself from missing him too much you find a hobby to do. Something to occupy your time.

What he didn't expect was for it to be so... bright. He's sure if he wore it outside it would cause some traffic accident. It's even brighter than the matching neon green hoodie him and the other dream members wore before.

He doesn't really have a problem wearing it, but nowadays his closet is composed of that one jogger pants he love, a black shirt, and his favorite jacket. The color palette you chose would stand out too much, he's just worried someone might notice and asks question where it came from. It's not like he's trying to hide you, that's the farthest from the truth. If he could he would show you off and all your silly gifts he cherishes so much to the world but your safety comes first, and in order to that he has to keep things private.

"I love it, who said I didn't" he says, taking it from your grasp before pulling you in for tight hug. Immediately the frown turned to a big smile, returning the hug and tangling your arms around him.

There's really no other comfort you need, his hugs were all you wanted day and night.

"I'll wear it loud and proud the next time I go out. I promise" he tells you, kissing you on the cheeks in between every word

"Really?"

"Yes" all thoughts of holding his ground is gone, already succumbing to your cuteness. And the truth is any gift from you is precious to him. "I'll tell stylist noona to make my next outfit with this" he promises, this time earning a kiss from you.

"Even if you feel embarrassed?"

"Doesn't matter, you made it for me. I'll wear it either way"

"Good, I already started on another one so give me a couple days to finish..."

[ageless-aislynn]

Okay, I realized today that the fluffy Vannak fic I started had gotten REALLY lost somewhere in my Tumblr drafts. 😬

You have to understand, my drafts are like a giant dumping ground of posts I want to come back and look at later, posts I intend to reblog but don't have time to tag at the moment and, since getting Georgette (my computer for anybody who doesn't know) last December and her "issues" with blue screening and crashing multiple times a day, every day, a bunch of my in-progress fics.

I have a problem and I can admit it. 🤷‍♀️😂

Anyway, I decided that since Georgette has gotten more predictable in her crashing (still not stoppable but she generally now gives me a warning noise that, in about 30 seconds, she's going to freeze and blue screen), I decided to try installing Word 2003, my beloved, once more.

I found the fic in my drafts (from February 🤷‍♀️😉) and now we're hopefully back in business with Word, my beloved, once again! 🤞😣🤞

This will also hopefully benefit speeding me up on my other WIPs, such as "15 Minutes" and "Recreation" (chapter 4 is currently about half done). I'm going to give Georgette a little while to make sure that Word doesn't destabilize her further or in some way make her issues worse, then I'm hoping she'll tolerate my Vegas again. I'm MISSING my ability to vid and make GIFs so much, I can't even!

And on that note, I think I need to play some Reach. Wait, I mean, I need to do some writing! Yeah, writing. With Word, my beloved. 😉

Ooo, and this also gives me back my Choose Your Own Spartan Adventure Reach WIP (temporary title "Choices")!

Yeah, it's been since the end of 2022 that I started that one but at least it, by its nature, won't post anything until it's all ready to go, so I'm not leaving anybody hanging, lol. 😇😉

Love you, frens, hope you're having a good day! 🤗💖

[ravenofthefandoms]

The Lucky Stag: Part 3

Word Count: 4621 (oopsies)

Pairing: Sandor Clegane x reader

Characters: Sandor Clegane, original character (Marlys), original character (mentioned) (Jeremiah Bryne), Morgan (mentioned), Lem (mentioned), Gatins (mentioned), Brotherhood without Banners, Thoros of Myr, Beric Dondarrion

Warnings: some gore (it’s Game of Thrones), some mild angst, some mild fluff

A/N: Hi :) sorry for disappearing but life has been hectic. I’ve been wanting to write again, especially after House of the Dragon. Hopefully, people still wanna see more of this. Hopefully, for a time, I’ll have more regular updates and posts. As I said a while back, there are some Podrick x reader posts I have brewing plus some ideas for House of the Dragon. This one isn’t super exciting but I’ve got some plans for the next few chapters that should get the blood pumping if you will

Tags (let me know if you would like to be removed since it’s been so long): @anita-e-taylor, @my-bitch-loki @orange-sherbxrt

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters outside of my own original characters. The others belong to George R.R. Martin. I do not own any of the gifs used. They belong to the original creators.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

You had been walking for ages, or what felt like it at least. Walking where, you did not know. Sandor had muttered to himself while he held you outside of the burning tavern, something about finding the men so he could tear them to bloody fucking pieces. Unfortunately, you had nothing but the singed, smoky clothes on your back and the aching hole in your chest left to your name. You knew, in reality, that it had only been a day and a half since your life had turned to ash but time no longer felt as it did before. Your eyes always felt dry, and your voice caught in your throat more often than not. Sandor could count the words you’ve spoken on his two hands.

On the first night, your friend, Marlys, was gracious enough to let you stay with her and her husband. She insisted that it was her duty as your friend, however. Another thing she tried to insist on was you sleeping in her and her husband’s bed, which he had heartily agreed to. You refused, though. Instead, you curled on the hay floor near the fireplace, Sandor sitting against the wall near your feet. 

Marlys was truly a kind woman, and you felt badly now for the way you were when you stayed there that night. You supposed that you shouldn’t, considering your grief was fresh and intense. The next morning, you and Sandor broke your fast with Marlys and her husband before they gave you enough food for a day of travel and a skin of water. Their kindness made tears well in your eyes. As you said your goodbyes, Sandor waited outside for you. 

Your childhood friend pulled you into a tight embrace. Tears spilled onto each others’ shoulders as she whispered her condolences. After a night of rest, you realized that you weren’t the only one who grieved your brother’s death, and held onto Marlys as tightly as she held onto you. “I’ll miss you, (Y/N). Promise you’ll come back someday.” You nodded in response, not trusting your voice to be steady. 

Letting go, you walked out to a patiently waiting Sandor. “Ready?” He knew what your real answer was, the same as anyone else’s would be. Your nod was good enough for him though. With one last tearful look towards probably the one place you wish you could stay, you began walking.

The first day of walking had been largely uneventful. Sandor led you with, surprisingly, gentle hands. Whether on your elbow, on the small of your back, or even holding your own in his, he never let go of you until you needed a break or it was time to set up camp. He found a clearing off the side of the path you had been traveling. With no ax, he was unable to cut any logs to build a proper fire, and instead gathered twigs and sticks from the surrounding copse of trees. As he gathered the firewood, you sat and prepared the area where the fire would blaze. Stones from a nearby stream were set in a circle to keep the flames contained. You handed it over to Sandor when he returned. He began to stack the wood, stuffing fallen leaves and tall grass into the center.

By the time you sat and made yourself as comfortable as you could on the hard ground, Sandor had the tinder smoking, then smoldering, and finally beginning to burn. As the fire slowly grew, Sandor moved to sit next to you. His eyes watched you carefully, unsure what to do or say. He had never been good with words, most of them crass and rude. He didn’t want to be crass or rude with you though. When it came to you, Sandor wanted to make you smile and laugh, to see the glimmer in your eye when you spoked animatedly, to keep you warm during the chilly nights, to-... He shook his head slightly, needing to derail this trail of thinking. As odd yet enjoyable this sensation was, there were priorities to be dealt with first. He needed to track down those sons of bitches that hurt you so and make them regret ever being born. 

“Sandor,” you murmured. He looked down and grunted. “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me.” He suddenly found his hands, fiddling with a small twig, to be much more interesting. 

“Don’ thank me. I’ve been more trouble than not,” he muttered. A soft chuckle, more of a sigh than anything, fell from your lips and you shook your head, almost as if he had made some silly joke. Pride swelled in his heart for a moment – hearing any sort of sweet sound from you was a blessing. You didn’t respond to his words, only scooted closer to him as a chill began to creep into the air. Your shoulders grazed his, body heat warming you as much as the fire in front of you. “You should get some rest.” His eyes flicked down to you, the smallest of bitter smiles gracing your lips. 

“Aye, I should.” You looked up at him; the lack of, well, everything in your eyes made him uneasy. He knew as well as you that rest would not come easy, if at all. Your eyes returned to the flames, your gaze becoming unfocused in them. A long moment lasted before you spoke again. “I don’t know what to do anymore.” Your voice was soft, barely more than a whisper. Sandor kept his gaze fixated on your face, waiting for you to continue. “I’ve always known what needed to be done. Cook the venison, bake the bread, serve the ale, keep the tavern running, watch over my-... watch over my brother.” The last few words came out slightly strangled, as though you choked on them. “I am lost now.” 

Another long silence fell between you before Sandor reached over and took one of your hands in his own. “You’re not lost. You’re not broken neither.” Your gaze lifted to meet his own. “You’re strong. And I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll protect you, if you let me.” You were able to offer him a small, watery smile along with a quick nod.

“Thank you, Sandor.” Your eyes returned to the flames for a moment longer before you closed them. “I want nothing more,” you said softly. Again, silence fell over the two of you, nothing to hear aside from the crackling of the fire. Sandor was unsure how long he stared into the dancing flames before your head nodded onto his shoulder and soft snores filled the air. 

The next morning, you awoke with a start, images from the past few days haunting your dreams. The sun was just beginning to climb over the horizon, though the chill of night still hung in the air. A shiver ran down your spine as your body began to wake from its slumber. Your tailbone and legs ached as you stood and made your way to the stream. The water was cold and brisk. Dipping your hands in the babbling brook made your arms break out into gooseflesh. You cupped the water in your hands, gently bringing it to your face. The freezing shock was necessary, you felt, before you began on your journey again. When you returned to the fire, Sandor’s eyes were open and sought out your approaching figure. 

He said nothing, something you were accustomed to after a few months of knowing him. Sandor would never be considered a particularly chatty man. However, sitting in silence with the large man brought you a sense of peace and calm. 

You nodded once at the question in his eyes, and he rose to his feet. There was nothing for you to gather or put away, only the still-smoldering embers of the night’s fire. Sandor kicked dirt over it, if only to ensure that the flames would stay smothered rather than springing back to life. Once again, he guided you to the path with sure steps. There was a bloodlust in his eyes as he tracked the men that he was intent on killing. It didn’t scare you, strangely enough. For once, it made you feel… protected. You couldn’t say that you remember a time when you felt protected. Your brother, gods rest his soul, was strong and protected you from men who were too handsy or too violent. There was always the silent agreement, however, that you were the one that protected your brother. You raised him, cared for him, and made sure he grew to be the man that he was beginning to be. This sensation from Sandor, it lifted a weight off of your shoulders that you had not realized was there. A shadow that had hung from you for as long as you could remember.

Gently, you shook these thoughts from your head. You instead focused on the path ahead, watching and wary of your surroundings. Many hours passed, early morning turning into early afternoon. As though he was indeed a hound picking up a scent, Sandor stopped suddenly. He turned to your left. You turned as well, trying to see or hear or smell whatever it was that he was sensing. After a few moments, you could hear the sound of raucous laughing, as well as cursing. It was enough for Sandor to tug you along gently, despite his long, angry strides.

You walked just behind Sandor, the sound of laughter growing as you continued to walk closer. An ax laid next to a stump and a pile of chopped logs. From where you stood, you could see four men, all somewhat familiar, sitting around a fire. Sandor stopped, looking back at you slightly with a warning in your eyes. It was something you understood quickly. You nodded and took a step back.

That bloodlust was back in his eyes, if it ever left. He grabbed that ax and began stalking towards the group of men. By the time they realized what was happening, it was too late. Sandor swung his ax with a yell at the first man, lopping off his head with ease. It was at this moment that you turned around, hand pressed to your mouth to keep the bile down. It wasn’t that you had a sudden guilt about the silent agreement between you and Sandor to avenge your brother. In fact, you quite enjoyed the ferocity with which he swung his weapon. What made your stomach churn was the memory that it returned to you: your brother’s corpse. The grisly nature of the scene unfolding was something that you found you just could not watch. Squelching flesh as it was maimed by steel still reached your ears. Your eyes closed quickly, taking deep breaths to keep your stomach calm. As the final man whimpered in pain, you could hear Sandor speaking to him. You weren’t sure what Sandor said, his voice too soft to be carried over the wind. You did, however, hear the dying man scream at the giant before him.

All you could hear was further grumbling from Sandor. You did not open your eyes nor did you remove your hand from your mouth. The crunch of leaves and sticks stopped behind you. “It’s over now, little flower.” His hand gently came up to grab your wrist, pulling it away from your face. Your eyes opened slowly, looking up to meet Sandor’s own gaze.

“Did I scare ya?” There was something in his voice that had you shaking your head quickly.

“No, Sandor. I just… I couldn’t watch.” He nodded softly. Your hand drifted up slowly to rest on his scarred cheek. “Thank you.” Your voice was more frail than you expected or wanted it to be. “They met the ends they deserved.” 

He nodded his agreement. 

“Aye, they did. There are still more. The one who led them, with the yellow cloak. We find him, and your brother will have been avenged.” You nodded, looking up at him with a fierceness in your eyes that made his heart stutter a moment. With no more need to stay, the two of you continued back on your journey. 

Surprisingly, you did not walk as far as you thought you would have to before the sounds of men reached your ears again. It was distinctive this time, and much closer than the last group of men had been. Sandor looked down at you, nodded, and then headed towards the noise, ax ready to attack.

To both your own and Sandor’s surprise, the men you sought were standing on barrels with nooses around their necks. A handful of men, no more than ten, stood around them, and one sat above on the tree branch. Swords were partially drawn in caution, until one of the men spoke.

“Clegane.” He was a handsome man, the one who spoke. An eye patch covered his right eye, a crop of sandy hair cropped close to his head. If it weren’t for the setting you found yourself in, you would think him to be some dashing knight that you, as did many of the other girls in your village, dreamt of being swept away by. You stayed close to Sandor, however, almost hiding behind him as a child does behind their mother’s skirts.

“The fuck you doing here?” Another man asked. This one had long hair gathered into a knot atop his head and a deep red cloak hanging around his shoulders. His gaze flicked to you, seemingly amused.

Sandor pointed at the soon-to-be hanged men. “Chasing them.” His hand, still gripping yours, tensed slightly. “You?”

The second man to speak looked back at the men before responding. “Hanging them.” He seemed almost bemused in the way he spoke, as though it were just another sunny afternoon. 

“Any particular reason?” Was Sandor’s somewhat irritated response. The clipped conversation had your eyes darting between the men as they spoke. 

The first man spoke again. “They’re our men, or they were. They attacked a nearby sept and murdered the villagers. Burnt down a tavern in the next village too. Why do you want them?” His eye flicked to you, as though just realizing that the Hound was not alone. Curiosity made his head quirk to the side, his lone eye seeming to look you up and down. Not in the way you were used to men doing, but in a way that made your skin crawl. Like he was reading your body, your mind, and your soul. There was a part of you that felt sure he could hear every thought in your head.

“Same reason.” Sandor jerked his head to you. “It was her tavern they burnt. Her brother they murdered.” Your hand tensed in his, and he squeezed it gently. “She saved me.”

“Saved you? A surprise anyone would think to do that.” The second man seemed to be quite witty, or at least thought he was. There was a twinkle of mirth in his eyes that you could see, even from your distance. 

Sandor looked down at you once again before returning his gaze to the men in front of him. “Aye, it is.” A pause and he started walking towards them intently, you following behind him. “They’re ours.” Sandor said, a statement of fact rather than a request.

The first man moved forward. “It is the Brotherhood’s good name they’ve dragged through the dirt.

“Fuck your name.” Sandor’s response was instant. The two of you came to a stop in front of the men. “They’re ours. I’ve killed ya once before, Dondarrion, happy to do it again.” In response, a man in the small crowd drew an arrow, pointing it at Sandor. You frowned and moved to the side between the archer and Sandor, releasing his hand in the process. “Drop that arrow, you bloody girl.” His eyes remained focused on the man he addressed as Dondarrion. “Tougher girls than you tried to kill me.” Sandor raised his ax, pointing it at the archer but careful of where he knew you stood next to him. A beat of silence and Sandor turned to start stalking towards the archer.

“You can have one of them.” Sandor turned back.

“Two.” It was almost incredulous how they seemed to barter over the lives of these men, who got to kill them. The two men who spoke with Sandor looked at each other. The second one nodded to the first, Dondarrion, who in turn nodded to Sandor.

They turned to the three men whose fates they so casually debated. Sandor went to the one on the farthest left, looked him up and down, and swung his ax back. It was grabbed, however, by the second man before he could bring it down. “No, no, no. We’re not butchers. We hang them.”

“Hanging? “ Sandor’s voice was annoyed. “All over in an instant. Where’s the punishment in that? Not enough after what they did to her brother. What they did to her ho-” Your hand on his arm stopped Sandor in his rant. He looked down to you, where you shook your head. There was no point in arguing. The other four you found died in pain and suffering. It was enough for you. Sandor pursed his lips and shook his head slightly. 

“They’ll die.” Was the simple answer from the red-cloaked man, whose hands rested so casually upon the pommel of his sword.

“We all bloody die, except for this one here.” Sandor looked back to Dondarrion, making your brow furrow in confusion. You turned to look at the man as well, still standing a bit behind Sandor. The man looked at you, a small, almost knowing smile upon his lips as he held your gaze. It unsettled you a bit, so you looked back and up at the men facing their deaths. “I’ll only gut one of them.” The bartering nearly made you snort with laughter, but you held it in.

“No.” Dondarrion switched his gaze from you to Sandor as he spoke. The giant man next to you turned and glared at the man.

“Chop off one hand.” This time you couldn’t help the snort of laughter, the gazes of the men around you turning upon you suddenly.

“We gave you two out of the three, out of respect of the lady’s loss. That’s generous.” His eye held a bit of warning for Sandor, telling him not to push his luck. Sandor sighed and looked down at you. You nodded and he turned back to Dondarrion. 

“Bunch of nances,” he grumbled. Sandor threw his ax to the ground in annoyance before looking up at the men. “There was a time I would’ve killed all seven of you just to gut these three.” Your brow quirked at his statement but you paid it no further mind.

“You’re getting old, Clegane. Or maybe your lady love has just made you soft.” Again with the mirthful look from the red-cloaked man, whose eyes roamed you freely. His gaze, though holding no malice, roamed over you with far less intensity and far more interest in the decolletage visible from the top of your gown. This was the gaze you were used to from men, and did not unsettle you like the other man’s did.

Sandor’s eyes turned to a deadly glare at the man before turning back to the men soon to be killed. “Well, he’s not.” His foot moved to the barrel that the first man stood on and kicked it from underneath his feet. He dropped suddenly and a sickening crunch was heard as he struggled against the noose. Sandor moved to the next one, turning back to you first with a question in his eyes. Your eyes leveled with his before flitting to the man in the middle.

“Did you kill my brother? With your own sword? The man you hung from a tree with the deer he had killed.” Your steely gaze leveled on the man, a pathetic whimper leaving his mouth. Violently, he shook his head, muttering what you believed to be lies. You had no proof save the the cloak around his neck. The cloak was not something you recognized, but the pins holding it together were. Those were the pins you had bought your brother for his sixteenth nameday. Your hand reached up, grasping the pins gently as you looked at them before you ripped them off. You put your bootclad foot on the edge of the barrel, leveling to meet his eyes once again.

“Mistress, please, I’ll give you anything.” The final words barely escaped his lips before you pushed the barrel over and the air was stolen from his lungs. With this man, there was no snap, only the strained gasp as his throat quickly began to become crushed against the rope. You kept your gaze upon the thrashing man’s face, watching with a deepset frown as his eyes seemed to bulge from his face and the color drained from his face to only be replaced by a blue hue. Dondarrion, who had sidled up next to you, quickly kicked over the barrel of the last man, who also choked. As soon as the third man began his suffering, you stepped back. The two men who Sandor seemed to know watched with varying expressions as Sandor looked at the middle man’s feet. The red-cloaked one seem bemused as Sandor removed the man’s boots and compared them to his own feet, while the other seemed intrigued.

“Got anything to eat?” Sandor finally asked once he pulled the new boots onto his feet. The men nodded and began walking to where they had set up camp. It wasn’t far, but far enough from the road where the deadmen hanged that you could no longer hear the creaking of the rope as their limp bodies swayed in the breeze.

A few men had stayed behind, assumingly to cook the game they had hunted and keep the fires stoked. You sat next to Sandor on a log, your knees drawn close to your chest. A leg of rabbit was in your hand but your gaze stayed on the lapping waves of the lake next to you. Two men sat on the log to your right and the man called Dondarrion on the left. The red-cloaked man soon joined you, a skin of something in his hands. “Enjoying yourself?” 

Sandor examined the rabbit bone, cleaning it of its meat. “I prefer chicken.” A small smile graced your lips before you took another bite from the leg.

“Would you like to introduce us to your friend, Clegane? It is the proper thing to do.” The red-cloaked man passed the skin to Sandor, who took a swig of it before handing it to you. You took it, the burn of alcohol bringing a slight relief to you.

“Not really,” he replied. You nudged him with your elbow, though this was only met with a grumble from the man. “(Y/N), that is Beric Dondarrion, leader of this… whatever it is. And that bald cunt with the topknot is Thoros of Myr. This is (Y/N).”

They both nodded to you, which you returned. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady.” 

You snorted and shook your head. “I’m no lady, Ser. But I thank ye, for the food. And the justice.” Though you spoke of it, it didn’t really feel as though justice had been served. Those men were dead, but so was your brother. You wondered if the dull ache in your heart would ever leave, or even lessen at all. The men seemed to be able to see the dull look in your eyes. Sandor’s hand gripped your knee gently, tossing the rabbit bone into the flames. Your eyes met his, and a small smile lifted the corners of your lips. He nodded and turned back to Thoros and Beric, though his hand didn’t leave you. The aforementioned men shared a look, noticing this surprisingly sweet gesture of comfort from the Hound. 

Beric nodded at your words before returning his attention to Sandor once again. “You ought to join us.” You listened as Sandor snorted, responding to Beric. At this point, you tuned yourself out of the conversation, the only thing anchoring you to reality was Sandor’s hand on your leg. You finished the rest of the rabbit leg that had been given to you earlier, tossing the bone into the fire. 

Your eyes lingered over the water, lapping at the muddy shores. The image of the strangled man kept flashing in your mind, but you steeled yourself against it. He suffered, hopefully more than your brother did. This was not enough, but it had to be. You would make it so. 

The men continued to speak, Sandor’s thumb rubbing soft and slow circles against your knee. He stood, giving one reassuring pat to your leg before he walked to the edge of the lake and began to fiddle with his pants. You averted your eyes quickly, attempting to keep a soft blush from your cheeks as your eyes found the first thing that wasn’t Sandor. Unfortunately, that thing was the amused gaze of Thoros of Myr. Suddenly, something he said registered in your brain. “You’ve brought him back? Not healed him, but… how?” The man who called himself a priest chuckled into his drink. 

“I prayed.” Beric pulled up his shirt to show you many scars, many of which should have killed him. “Six times, isn’t it?” Beric nodded to Thoros’ question. “I just got lucky. Or he did, I suppose.” Beric dropped his shirt as Sandor returned from relieving himself.

They continued their conversation, though you only payed half a mind to it. The fact that Beric had died six times but was still standing before you, very much alive, was incredible. They continued to talk about fighting, cold winds, and mysterious creatures that sounded like tales that the old women in the village would tell you as a child. “It’s not too late, Clegane.” This was the last thing Beric said to Sandor, silently awaiting an answer to his proposition. Sandor gave a soft sigh, staring at Beric before looking down at you.

His gaze held yours for a long moment, longer than you’ve had before. A soft emotion that you couldn’t quite place entranced you. “Well, what do ya say, lass? Ever been to the North?” You shook your head slightly. “Would ya like to?” A brief moment of clarity washed over you. You accepted Sandor’s offer of protection. You thought that, once your brother’s killers were caught, he would see it as a job done. Or maybe he would simply refuse to bring you, a woman, on what was doubtlessly a dangerous adventure. It seemed that this was not the case. How it seemed, at least to you, was that Sandor was intent on staying with you. And this thought made your heart feel a little brighter than it had before, and a smile painted your mouth. A real smile, one that reminded Sandor of the smiles you would offer him back in the tavern. The smile that always made his heart skip a beat, despite that particular sensation frightening him.

“Aye, I think I would like to see the North. It’s not like there’s much left for me in the Riverlands.” Beric nodded his head to you while Thoros raised his skin and took another drink. Sandor offered you a small, secret smile before taking your fingers in his hand as discreetly as he could. It wasn’t discreet at all, but thankfully, neither Thoros nor Beric felt the need to say anything.

[noodyl-blasstal]

TAZ Bingo time!!! From @taznovembercelebration Prompt: Joking or Serious  _________________________

Kravitz had lived with Taako for three years. He had been in lust with Taako for two years and three hundred and sixty five days. He had been in love with Taako for one year and forty seven days.

Taako, thankfully, didn’t seem to have noticed.

The lust part was easy to explain. Kravitz isn’t dead, he has eyes. The love bit was more of a surprise. It crept up on him until, deep in the throes of music practice, Taako dancing along wildly inappropriately for Britten’s First Suite for Cello, he thought ‘I love this idiot.’ After that, it was obvious.

Kravitz and Barry’s “I’m In Love With a Tacco Twin and All I Got Was This Lousy Whatsapp Chat” provided some comfort. It turns out there was, in fact, a gif for most situations. At least now if he screamed into the void when Taako made him eggy bread because he knew he missed home, or walked around the flat in nothing but a towel, the void yelled back about how it loved Lup.

Tonight, Taako had decided to 'borrow' one of Kravitz's t-shirts and was wearing a particularly tiny pair of shorts. The chat was busy. Barry was suffering a similar fate apparently. It was getting harder to reply though, Taako seemed intent on taking over the entire sofa whether Kravitz was on it or not. Usually Taako would kick his feet into Kravitz's lap, or even snuggle up beside him… but now the man was lying across his lap and Kravitz was panicking. Surely he couldn't see the screen from there?

His phone vibrated on the arm of the sofa, the name of the chat appearing on the lock screen. Kravitz angled it away and tried to remember exactly how to breathe. It was fine, that was only visible for a split second, Taako couldn’t have read it in that time, he definitely didn't see.

Taako moved fast. “You have to tell me right now, is this serious?” He demanded, grabbing Kravitz’s phone.

Every ounce of moisture left Kravitz’s mouth. Was there an opposite to flash flooding? Flash drying. Why did they not see this coming? Barry had so many PhDs, Kravitz was generally pretty smart… He could just have set his messages not to preview, he could have stopped messaging Barry and focused on the hot boy in his lap wearing his shirt, he could have named the chat literally anything else.

“Krav? Kraverino? Kravatappi? You have to do words now, my guy.” Taako was looking up at him, barely containing a grin.

"It's… I." Kravitz said with grace and decorum. Great start. Nailed it. Master of love confessions! At least Taako hadn’t run away and locked himself in his room.

Taako snorted. "Okay Stud, that one's on Taako. You have to do words relating to the question." Taako raised his eyebrows and waited.

"It's not a joke." There, an answer without any direct admission. That didn't actually count as telling him!

"You're in love with Lup????" Taako gasped, horrified.

"No, I'm in love with you, you idiot." Kravitz rolled his eyes and shoved Taako's shoulder, grinning at how ridiculous the accusation was. Then the realisation of what he’d just said hit. That fact was supposed to go to his grave. That was not supposed to be actual words he said at Taako. At least not without flowers and macarons, maybe some sky writing? Okay, back on task, he could fix this. He could make this okay. "Like, in a… a friends way?" He added, convincing no one.

"Oh, okay, a friends way, so you wouldn't be interested in, say, smooching this beautiful face?" Taako asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"No?" Kravitz said, staring very intently at Taako’s lips. Fuck. He buried his head in his hands. If Taako couldn't see him then this couldn't be embarrassing. That was science. Immutable fact.

"Oh, okay, so you also wouldn't be interested in a WhatsApp chat I may or may not have named "I'm in Love with my Oblivious Roommate and Therefore I Live in Hell"?" Taako asked, mildly.

"I might, maybe, be interested in that." Kravitz said hopefully, peeking past his fingers to be sure Taako wasn't joking. He winked at Kravitz. Smug bastard.

"Interested in that in a friends way?" Taako asked. Kravitz was going to expire. Taako was never going to let him forget this.

"Could we forget this happened and I'll surprise you with flowers tomorrow?" It was worth a shot. Taako liked flowers!

"Nope" Taako popped the p viciously. "You can still buy me flowers though." He added. Kravitz pretended to roll his eyes. "Now, about that smooching, handsome?"

"Hold on, just got message Barry first." Kravitz grabbed his phone and just about managed to send 'torture=flirting' before a throw pillow thudded into the side of his head. “Right, where were we?”

[sheerfreesia007]

Fluffmas #8

Title: Fluffmas #8

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OFC!

Author: @sheerfreesia007​

Prompt: Writing letters to Santa

Words: 1,584

Warnings: Fluff, teasing, sarcasm

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711, @fioccodineveautunnale, @phoenixhalliwell, @linkpk88, @weirdowithnobeardo, @athalien

Gif Credit: @nerdypinupcrystal

The orphanage was hosting a Letter to Santa event to help raise funds for the holidays and all the children in the orphanage were excited. You were in charge of advertisement and had been visiting all the local businesses near the orphanage to possibly work with them to gather some traction with spreading the word about the event. Trudging up the multileveled building you looked to the side to see the placard that showed what businesses were on the floor. Thankfully you had managed to get most of the buildings done on this street and were on the last floor for the day of the last building. Tomorrow you’d be able to get through two more streets of buildings hopefully but for now you were thankfully on the last floor.

Thayer’s Travel Agency suite 510; Nelson and Murdock Law Firm Suite 511, you read on the placard and sighed loudly as you saw only two businesses on this floor. You were exhausted from walking the streets of Hell’s Kitchen and were ready for your day to be over. Adjusting your messenger bag on your shoulder you took in a deep breath and confidently opened the stairwell door. On one side of the hallway was the door labeled Thayer’s Travel Agency and by the looks of it the business was closed for the evening. You sighed softly knowing that you would have one less spiel to spout out to hopefully get some publicity for the event. Bending down you slipped a few fliers under their door and stood back up to turn to the other door in the hallway. 

The words Nelson and Murdock Law Firm adorn the frosted glass of the door in pretty gold lettering while a dim light shines from within the office. You knock on the door and wait before hearing a low voice respond back telling you to come in. Opening the door you’re greeted to a simple office with three rooms, the main room seems to be a lobby of some sort with a simple desk and computer sitting in the middle of the bare open room. On either side are two offices that you can look into through the glass windows in the walls, one office is dark with the lights shut off while the office on the right has the lights still on and a man sitting at his desk. You’re surprised to see the man looking over at you with red tinted glasses over his eyes causing you to tilt your head to the side and furrow your brows slightly, you wondered if the lenses corrected a color disability in his eyes. Stepping to his office door you smile warmly at him and open your mouth to speak.

“Sorry, for showing up so late. I work for Saint Peter’s Home for Children, it’s the orphanage down on-” you begin to tell him.

“Fifth and Rancor.” he cuts in and you jolt at the fact that he knows where the orphanage is. Usually no one seems to know or care that there’s an orphanage so close to their business. You nod your head as you try to recapture your momentum as the man smiles kindly at you.

“Usually no one knows about the orphanage.” you say softly and he nods his head at your words as if he had heard from across the room.

“Well it’s easy to miss, the orphanage tends to look like a church.” he says goodnaturedly and you chuckle softly at that. “We here at Nelson and Murdock like to know about any businesses around us. We like to know who we could possibly represent in court.” he says in a confident firm tone that has the hair on your arms standing at attention as you gaze at him with awe in your eyes. The man exudes a sense of friendliness but the tone of his voice held something harder underneath it.

“I see, well I’d just like to let you know that the orphanage is hosting a Letters to Santa event in three weeks for the holiday season. You’re more than welcome to come, the children would love it and we advertise the event on the news with mentions of anyone who comes or donates from their businesses.” you explain and he grins at you cheekily as you walk further into his office to stand in front of his desk.

“I’ll be able to come with my partner but I won’t be able to write any letter to Santa.” he said with a teasing lilt to his voice. You furrow your eyebrows at him in confusion as your eyes dart around his form.

“Why not?” you ask curiously not understanding why he wouldn’t be able to write a letter to Santa with the children. You watch as he silently takes his red tinted glasses off his face and you suck in a sharp breath at the sight of his eyes. You can see the scarring around them and the cloudiness of his pupils causing you to feel your stomach drop to your feet. “I am so sorry. I didn’t realize you were blind. I thought that the lenses corrected a color disability in your vision.” you apologized softly and he tilted his head to the side curiously.

“You know, that’s the first time anyone has come to that conclusion.” he said as he stood from his desk and slipped the glasses back onto his face. You walked over to you while tapping his cane along the floor and you felt yourself flush with embarrassment at the faux pas you had made. When he was standing in front of you he grinned in your direction and you got the feeling he was going to start teasing you, he had the air of cheekiness about him. “Well since I’m so offended by your assumption I’ll let you make it up to me.” he teased as he leaned towards you until his face was only a few inches away from your own. You grinned at him as you rolled your eyes at his teasing words, his teasing was infectious and you found yourself quickly falling into it.

“And how can I make it up to your delicate sensibilities?” you asked sarcastically and he jolted back with a faux shocked face as his hand came up to his chest causing you to chuckle softly at his dramatics. When he leaned in close once more you felt the tension in the air grow thick and you stopped breathing.

“Be my pen, while I dictate the best letter to Santa at your event.” he husked out to you and you had to catch yourself from taking a step closer to him already under his spell. You blinked at him for a moment before feeling the blush race across your skin.

“I’d be honored to be your pen. It’ll be the best written letter Santa will ever get.” you teased him back and he chuckled happily at you as he nodded his head. 

“Do you have fliers for the event? We have some clients who have small children, they’d probably love the event.” he asked and you nodded your head quickly before going into your messenger bag and pulling out a handful of fliers for him. He held his hand out and you easily set the fliers in his hand, you jerked with surprise as you felt an electric shock course through your body as your fingers gently grazed along his palm. He turned to his desk and placed the fliers there at the corner of his desk so that anyone who came in would be able to see them. “Are you heading home now?” he asked as he turned back to you with a soft smile on his face.

“Yes, I’m done advertising the event today. Thankfully I only have two more blocks tomorrow to get done and then I think we should be good for the event.” you tell him as he nods his head.

“Can I walk you home or wherever you need to get to?” he asked softly and you tilted your head at him with a warm smile on your face. “Hell’s Kitchen could be a dangerous place especially at this time of night.” he cautioned and your smile widened at his words.

“I’d love that-” you begin to say before you realize that you never got the man’s name and here you were accepting his escort home.

“Matt Murdock.” he supplied easily with that cheeky grin on his face again. “I promise I’m not a serial killer, kinda goes against my job.” he jokes and you chuckle softly.

“Never really held anyone back though did it?” you asked sarcastically and he laughed at your words.

“Very true, but I promise I won’t harm or hurt you.” he says seriously and you meekly nod your head at him before scoffing at your actions. “You just nodded your head, didn't you?” he asked teasingly with a grin on his face.

“Your looks and mannerisms are very deceiving Mr. Murdock.” you quip at him and he chuckles as he grabs his bag from his desk and begins to walk back towards you while holding out his arm for you to take.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” he says, sounding self-important and you roll your eyes once again as you grin at him. “I felt that eye roll.” he says close to your ear and you gasp softly at his closeness as he laughs once more.

[she-who-the-river-could-not-hold]

Rambling March Updates

A little bit of a fun update for this month and moving forward, since I’ve been feeling a shift in how I approach my creative work (and well, everything else too) and I feel like organizing my thoughts somewhere. It’s technically the 2nd of March, but after a mini vacation post half-marathon, I definitely feel like it’s a valid bookend to semi start at. I’m in my usual “time to overhaul my life and plans” mood so it’s fitting for that as well, like a spring cleaning for the mind!

Writing Updates:

I’m about halfway through my celebration oneshot, which is a Bellarke AU based on the winning tropes from my survey that I ran during my follower celebration. So in a sense it’s a collaborative fic which is pretty fun! I’m liking it so far, though I do feel a bit rusty writing the Bellarke again after taking a bit of a break.

If you somehow missed my excessive reblogs, I finished my longest fic ever last month (hence another writing break)! It was for Stranger Things/Hellcheer (Eddie x Chrissy) and ended up clocking in at just under 80k words. Pretty astounding and I haven’t really processed how long it is. I feel like I need to reread it just to bask in the accomplishment and to also remember what I wrote lol.

Organizing the new month means updating my word count calendar, and with it I’ll probably spend some time reworking some outlining and WIP plans. I still like most of my WIPs that are unfinished, though one or two might get axed and abandoned. But the ones I want to finish deserve a polishing up and fixed outlines so I feel more confident getting back into them! And of course, organizing some new fic ideas I have and seeing if I can prep myself into making them shorter, easier projects for the main reason I’m about to share!

The biggest reason I want to spend time narrowing down my approach and what I want to write in terms of fanfic is that I’ve finally confirmed to myself that I want to write my own original novel. The idea started bouncing around in my head and I tried to ignore. Thought about it a little longer, told my husband about it, and he enthusiastically insisted that I legitimately consider writing it. And now I can’t stop thinking about it, so I’m going to give it a go! I can’t let myself think about any goals beyond writing it, but I am excited to see how that goal can fit and how I can push myself with it and hopefully actually write it. 

Design/Visual Creative Updates:

I do want to eventually finish my Stranger Things episode gif sets. I find them incredibly relaxing to make and a nice little visual stimulation break! 

More episode posters such as this one are also something on the back burner. Mainly because I’m also considering expanding my efforts in an online shop and I think it would be cool to include them! A part of that is organizing the categories of work I want to do, as well as the very tedious element of figuring out a name for the shop so that I feel comfortable sharing it across platforms. Hopefully updates on that will come down the line by the summer!

In non-fandom thoughts, I desperately need to update my graphic design portfolio and take new headshots. It’s driving me bananas at how much I’ve stalled on that so that needs to be a priority 

I’m determined to learn how to book bind this year and turn my own fics into physical copies (also a nice tie in for my own potential novel). We’ll see how that goes––it’ll be added to my long list of physical creative projects I want to get into this year!

I’ve negotiated my current contract to being a four day work week, so I’m excited to see my schedule start to form in a way that I can maximize my time and work on more personal projects!

However all of this comes on the back of that my husband and I are officially looking to move to a new state and city! Which means there’s a buzzing amount of stress just consistently in my mind right now, which will most definitely multiple over time as we actually have to complete the process. That means I’ll probably put a lot of this all on pause later this month and into April, but I also think that moving to a bit of a slower paced lifestyle is also going to be really good for both of our goals moving forward. Very exciting and very scary at the same time as we look to start a new chapter in our lives!

Onward to updating Notion and hopefully getting some good work in today! Happy almost spring!